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starconstruction · 14 days ago

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Hypothermia and The Cosmos

Yena x Male Reader

Wc:4248

Tags: blowjob, pussy eating, face riding creampie, masturbation,

not proof read.

2072.

Everyone could have predicted the planet being uninhabitable, the rate industrial production sped up exponentially. Nobody wanted to slow down their ventures for more and more money, it wasn't until 2068 where every carbon sink had completely fallen through. Nowhere in the worlds air supply was safe to breathe. The stench of methane as the sky was blocked out. The sun couldn't pierce the thick fog of disease that hung itself across the earth's surface, leaving an eternal dusk that never ceased for brighter times for humanity.

Now humanity's survival was dependant on a mere couple thousand people, those who signed up for the planetary expeditions. A subsect of the divisions designed to protect humanity for years to come, the goal was simple. Find a planet that was habitable and scalable. Today was the day where everyone was heading out, arming yourself in the mandatory assigned space gear, the unpleasant stench of new plastic and nylon mixed with the environmental methane to make something apphrensibly disgusting to breathe into.

You grabbed onto the rails of the staircase, pulling upwards as your gear lulled behind. A crew of 32 including you were grouped together, this was the first time any of you had met. Their presence was both comforting and uncomforting, a pendulum of emotions as everyone loaded the ship full of their stuff.

Your crew gathered into your living quarters, it was a simple design. Two large components connected by a singular hallway, the company thought it'd be cheaper to make them two full inclusive units as opposed to relying on each other. The ship was fully equipped with a kitchen area, containing a brand new kettle, oven, microwave, toaster and tap. The tap didn't have any water properties in itself. But thanks to the companies glorious technology, it can siphon planetary liquid with ease! The scent of coffee pierced the usually pungent atmosphere, being handed a cup by someone completely unknown. The coffee tasted like dirt as it slid down your throat, coffee apparently used to taste better than this. Before the soil got completely filled with disgusting plastics and gases.

The ship has two dynamic captains operating the helm of your operation, one of them was a small man, 5'6? He had brown hair that was being constrained by the tight helmet he was obliged to wear. And his body was slightly out of shape, you didn't know him very well but he seemed average personality wise. He was sat on his pilot chair, legs kicked up against the centre console waiting for liftoff. The other pilot juxtaposed his entire existence. She was anything but average, her hair a dual toned masterpiece, pink and black converged upon each other. She wasn't wearing her helmet yet, allowing you to bask in her entire glory. Her hair ran straight down to her back, you couldn't see her face while she faced the smog filled atmosphere from outside, sipping on the nasty complementary coffee. She was really pretty, but you knew nothing about her personality. Not uttering a word to anyone on this ship since she arrived.

The company provided sirens rung out through the air, firing a blaring warning that take off had to be imminent. The elusive girl put her helmet on and sat up properly, running her nails across the controls as she set up. For some reason the majority of the crew was in the left wing. Chatting it up about nothing in particular as the ship whirred to life. You and the strange pilot was all who was on this side.

Checking the gear stores for your side, the company provided tools for every scenario, ice picks, new motors, batteries, the budget for these missions were unfathomable. Humanity fell on all of you, it's a thought that weighed on your very soul. Weeks of preparation lead up to this mission, it can not fail.

The two space pilots pressed a few tiny buttons, engaging the core engines on the side of the craft, bright LEDs shot out to brightened the fog on the surface as the dirt whipped up by the ships motions. Their movement was synchronised to an art, engaging their ignition as the fuel burned violently. The ship slowly heading into orbit, escaping the disgusting fog in a brief respite. Atmosphere parting away for a clean celestial view, it was going to be a long long flight as you laid on down on the floor.

Space was serene, no noises of coughing through the diseased land of earth, only murmurs of chatter could be heard from the other dock, it was a nice contrast from what you had to deal with back on earth. You could get used to this, the strange pilot had long since put the ship on autopilot, letting it drift itself across space. She approached the kitchen, making herself another cup of coffee. Two cups? The mysterious woman brought the two cups towards where you were sitting. Placing them gently on the ground next to the both of you. Crouching down as her suit crunched, lifting the visor up in order to more effectively communicate with you.

"So, what's your name?" Her words were blunt which contrasted with her sweet sugary voice, she gave out a breathy laugh to break the tension between the two of you.

"Y/N. What about you mysterious pilot?" her face visibly cringed at your attempt at a joking nickname, her eyes rolling as she contemplating just walking away. "It's, Yena. Nice to meet you Y/N" she kept sipping on her coffee as her bluntness sapped on your confidence. You two kept exchanging words, none of them were super important or significant as you focused on her beauty, her face was utterly divine, her eyes were enchanting, large bountiful pupils. Her lips were a soft pink, smooth and full of character. Yena tolerated your dry humour and missed punchlines, giving you fake laughter as she jokingly slapped you.

Yena said her goodbyes and got up, her hips swaying as she slowly walked back to her chair. You had to get your hormones under control, she was a crew member and deserved respect.

A few hours had passed as you checked inventory to take your mind off Yena, months of food for everyone. Crates of personalised clothes, you brought a mix of clothes for every possible situation. Warm clothes designed for the frozen wastelands, fur coats and gloves. Minimal clothes for scorching climates, a strange mix of shorts, t-shirts and a mix of nic-nacs.

"Fuck!" It was Yena, desperately trying to regain control of the ship as a swarm of asteroids appeared in front of the ship. Various shapes and sizes threatening to crush your entire project.

"Why the FUCK is he not turning!" Yena frantically turned to the right, but the ship wasn't moving fully. The once synchronised pact now disjointed as you panicked. Dropping what you were doing, scraping your feet against the metal as you urgently tried to get to the other side. The pilot was going to get you all killed, the airlock door launched open.

A massive explosion burst out in front of you, sparks flying overhead as metal launched out into orbit. The two halves of the ship now divided.

The sudden loss of pressure nearly throws you out of the ship, boxes of supplies getting thrown out into the vast abyss of space.

Fuck.

Engine batteries, fuel, clothes and more was being thrown out of orbit. Sharp jolts of pain firing through your body as you got hit again and again. Struggling to reach the airlock door button as Yena frantically ran over to you, taking your hand in hers as you got thrown onto the ground. The airlock door closing as the room went silent.

"Shit." One shared word was all that was said as you looked at your inventory, food sprawled over your food. Frozen products shattered, clothes strung over various objects. Atleast those materials survived, all your vital ship pieces thrown overboard.

"We just lost so much Yena." You said briskly, the alarm from earlier didn't stop. Yena panicked and ran back to the helm, dragging you in tow.

"Y/N! Our engine is broken!! I will route us to the only livable planet nearby but it's not pleasant" you nodded as she set your route in motion.

The ship landed with a violent thud, crippling further components as they bended under the rock you smashed into. It was cold, really really fucking cold. You could feel it piercing your suit as your skin started to burn up with frostbite.

You looked at Yena and your jaw dropped as the colour was draining from her face, her eyes looked soulless. A loud bang rolled out as she hit the ground. Her body now rendering unconscious, you had to find heat before it was too late for both of you. An axe adorned in pink was lodged into the metal next to the airlock button, it had to be Yena's. You pryed it from the rubble and rushed outside. The cold dug knives into your back as you frantically scanned for trees. Shivers ran down your spine as ice crystallised on the corner of your eyes where the tears formed. A cluster of trees were completely obfuscated by blankets of snow, raining down on your skin as every part of you wanted to shut down.

Smashing Yena's axe into the side of the tree took considerable effort, barely piercing through the thick bark as the cold raged on. The sound of the snowstorm buzzed in your ears as snow landed on every section of your body. You two couldn't die now.

The wood eventually relented, splitting into a small enough log you could throw on your back. The snow made movement slow and sluggish as you desperately fought back to get across. Wood fell at your knees as you finally got back into the ship, slapping the airlock button as the room went quiet. You needed to light this wood urgently, thankfully Yena mentioned wanting to smoke in your earlier conversations. Rushing over to her desk you snagged her shining lighter. You were so close.

*click*

Come on

*click*

Not the time!

*click*

A flame erupted from the small lighter, pressing it deep into the small twigs as it caught fire, slowly spreading to the thicker wood. It wasn't warm, but it was warm enough. Your hands hooked around Yena's body as you pulled her frigid body close to yours. Holding her close to desperately share body heat as you sat by the fire. Eventually succumbing to the tiredness.

The world came back into focus as your body felt overly warm, nearly swelteringly hot. Yena was still resting in your arms, her skin returned back to its previous self. You slithered out, the room was so fucking hot. Unnaturally so, looking outside confirmed your lingering suspicions. The sky was red and the heat was leeching through, a stark contrast from the frigid temperatures a few hours prior. What the fuck was with this planet? You needed to change before you passed out from heat exhaustion, sweat trickling down the temple of your head as you put out the campfire.

Your space suit was thrown off as you swapped into the shortest clothes you owned. Yena was still asleep to the world, her breaths being long and patient while her body recovered.

You took the company provided axe, significantly less interesting than Yena's axe. The pink being replaced by a standard wood finish. You had to get enough wood incase that temperature was normal.

You got back to the ship as the temperature started to decline back into the arctic nightmare, Yena was laying down on the pull out bed. Wearing clothes that left little to the imagination, crimson booty shorts emphasised her delectable curves. Her legs ran down seemingly endlessly, a sheen of sweat from the abhorrent temperature made her skin glow radiantly. Snapping back to reality as you prepped the firewood for the night.

"Our fucking shower doesn't work and the world is a scorching sweaty shithole!" Yena yelled in your general direction. Frustratedly shaking the pillow locked in her embrace. You could understand her complaints, after all. You could smell both of you and it wasn't pleasant.

" Don't worry! It gets even worse Yena! At night it becomes a frozen wasteland! So you might want to change, and even worse! Our temperature regulator is broken!" You exclaimed, running out of breath as the gravity of the situation came to life. Yena stormed off to change as the night plummeted. You guys didn't have a place to securely change so you turned around. Then you changed.

You two sat by the campfire, appreciating the shelter from the cold closing in all around you.

"Yena, we need a plan. We aren't going to survive in these conditions and I'm not going to die yet." Yena's face was unreadable, the first time you couldn't tell what she was feeling. Her legs tightened as she set and reflected on the situation.

"I've got a plan. We can fix all 3 of the components with some wood and flint, thankfully the technology is designed to work with every fuel source! We just need to get them, as for fixing the engine... That might be a longer plan" Yena spoke with a child like wonder as she gesticulated all her plans, telling you components and how to fix those things you needed so desperately.

A week passed as you guys prepared food and general survival before moving onto what you desired.

You two first wanted to fix the temperature regulator, the whiplash every 12 hours was intolerable as you had to burn through so many outfits you couldn't wash with the current supplies. Creating a mess, you two threw all your clothes in one pile.

This was the easiest goal of yours. The two of you went out with your axe and Yena's modified axe. Dicing through enough wood creating a nice collection of scraps usable to repair the first part of your ship.

You and Yena worked together to fix it, jabbing fragments of flint and wood into various documented nodes as you felt it keep a consistent flow of temperature. Helping to reduce the rapid flow of clothes accumulating in the ship.

The next was the shower. You and Yena smelt awful and it was seriously starting to bug you, it required near perfect precision and grinding down the materials to a perfect size. You and Yena made a fantastic team.

It was now night, with the shower and temperature regulators restored you two freshened up thanks to the company's "Infi-Soap" one of the few inventions they managed to muster with the trillions invested into their company.

Yena let you go first, the water spraying down your body for the first time, it was lukewarm as you rubbed the soap all over your body, feeling the dirt and grime wash away as the lather formed all over you. It felt fantastic to not feel completely disgusting.

The shower wasnt exactly the bastion of privacy, it had a small curtain to prevent prying eyes but not much else. Getting out of the shower you quickly ran to change.

You weren't aware of it, but Yena was absently staring at the shower. You pulled the curtain back and your cock was showing for a second while you got out. Yena realised she was staring and turned around. Those lewd thoughts entered her mind for the first time in forever, she rarely ever thought about sex. But it'd been awhile, she wasn't ready for the real thing just yet. But she wanted to get over a big fear of hers.

Yena hopped in the shower, desperate to get away from the grime that encapsulated her body, rubbing the soap into every crevice of her body. Those earlier thoughts entering her body yet again, her lower body heating up as she felt her liquid pool on her lower lips. Yena felt guilt as she licked her fingers, knowing it was wrong to do it so close to someone. Regardless she descended her hand lower, leaning against the wall as she slowly inserted one finger, letting out a needy gasp. Messily rubbing her clit as she put a second finger in. Reaching her knuckles as she went in and out. The pleasure overwhelming her as she thought of your cock. It'd been so long it didn't take her long to cum. Sliding down the shower wall as her head went numb from the mind blowing orgasm. She cleared her thoughts and went outside.

Later you two sat by the campfire, no longer a necessity but a luxury as it created a cozy atmosphere for you two to indulge in. She was sucking on a lollipop that she brought with her, the way that her tongue danced around it filled your mind with lewd thoughts again. She was effortlessly sexy. You had to distract yourself.

"So, Yena. Your parents ever tell you much about old earth?" your voice was stuttering as her lollipop released her from her mouth with a pop.

"Yeah, she always talked about a fogless earth, one filled with real butterflies! Not just artificial ones! God if I was there I would have taken so many pictures" she said, her voice trailing off as she thought of her personal utopia.

"Was never a huge fan of butterflies, moths though. I would have loved to see some moths."

"Moths?? What are you an emo boy?" She laughed slightly.

The night flowed on as you talked about the old world that neither of you ever got to experience, Yena finishing her lollipop as she threw it into the cold outside that suffocated your ship.

You approached the campfire getting ready to put it out as a firm grasp on your arm prevented you, Yena. Her gaze was telling you to wait up.

"Hey, Y/N. Its been a long day. You trust me right?" she pleaded with you as she spoke softly.

You nodded and Yena laid you down as she got on her knees. You were shocked as she got closer between your legs.

"I, don't want you to laugh at me. I want to suck your dick. Please please please!" she was rambling slightly as she fidgeted.

You nodded yet again as her hands pulled down your pants and your boxers in one fell swoop. Pooling into your legs, revealing your hardening shaft.

Yena gulped as she stared at it, her fingers tried to touch your cock but reeled back, her face painted a look of panic. Breathing deeply as she closed her eyes.

"Yena are you alrig-" you started, but she quickly interjected "Yes! I can do this... I can do this.." she murmured to herself.

Her fingers gently touched your shaft, the touch was light and shaky. She held there as she smiled, breaking past one of her boundaries. She stroked slowly, getting used to the feeling of your cock pressing against her fingers, the lack of lubricant made every motion come with a slight twinge of difficulty for Yena.

Yena drooled over your cock from a distance, coating her fingers as she rubbed it into your shaft, driving you mad with her intense strokes.

Yena's tongue made contact with the base of your shaft, pulling away as your musk caught her off guard. Spluttering spit as she coughed aggressively. Her eyes locked up into you with sheer determination as she went in for another attempt. Running it up from the base to the tip. Warm breath tickling your shaft as she got more brazen with her licks. You groaned as Yena made out with your cock, pressing kisses into the tip as she coaxed the precum out. Gagging slightly as bitter liquid made contact with her tongue.

Yena ceased her movements as she pulled away, generating a thick glob of her spit which she spat on the tip of your shaft. Her determination was admirable.

Yena spoke, "I can do it, I can do it. If I reach the bottom you can throat fuck me. When your about to cum, pull me off." before you could react Yena's lips were parting as the tip of your dick entered her warm mouth. You moaned as your hips bucked involuntarily. Causing Yena to panic and withdraw.

" I'm sorry Ye-" she cut you off again with a gentle suck on your tip. Her plush lips were pillows for your dick as she tried again. Her sticky saliva coating your dick as she pressed lower. Hands pressing into your thighs for reassurance as she got used to your length. Heat radiated as she took you to heaven. Reaching the base as her nose pressed into your pubes as harsh gags leaked out from her stuffed mouth.

Yena took her hands off your legs, wrapping her dual toned hair around her slender fingers, gifting you makeshift ponytails. She couldn't talk with her mouth so she talked with her eyes pleading with you to use her mouth. Fully into the role of a needy cocksleave. Her tongue swirled around your tip. Hollowed cheeks providing a suction as you penetrated her mouth, lifting her violently up and down as she sputtered even more saliva, coughing as it ended all over your legs. Yena couldn't keep her eyes open as you got rougher and rougher. Pressing against her throat, vibrations amplifying the sensations of her acts.

The feeling of your orgasm was imminent, tensing up as you threw Yena off your cock, her breathing heavy and laboured. Stroking your Yena drenched cock rapidly with her hand, seeing stars as she raised from knees. You were seconds from erupting as Yena's shirt came up. Exposing a tasty midriff as your cock was pressed into her toned stomach, shooting ropes of thick semen as she kept jerking.

The canvas of her chest was now painted with your semen, Yena smiled as she admired her work. Dried spit coating the corners of her lips, her hair frazzled and screwed after you manhandled her.

"Y-Yena, you did it! Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, let's go clean up."

Since that day, you two slept in the same bed, not that there was ever enough space. The ship only providing small pull out beds meaning Yena and you had to create a tangle of bodies to accommodate each other. Her chest heaving as she gingerly breathed, encapsulated in her dream world, she was so cute like this.

You two set your sights to the moon, literally. You and Yena prepared to find a way out off this hellhole, it wasn't going to be easy. The batteries were completely drained and repairing them would require a miracle.

You and Yena were scouting the planet one day, attempting to make a hastefully drawn map of resources. It was like two different universes, at night everything was covered in snow and sleet. Ice spikes form in ravines. At day, the snow swapped out for surges of heat.

You two walked in the blanketed forest, taking notes on the surrounding paths, snow crunched under the two of you. Your jaw dropped, a strange grey ghoulish figure stood in front of you. Bones pressing out of the flesh, nails being bent upwards 90*, organs visibly exposed.

"What the fuck is that thing?" You and Yena spoke in unison, surprised as it runs towards you. Panicking as it tackles Yena to the ground, attempting to bite into her flesh as a struggle ensued. You grabbed Yena's knife from the ground. A swift jab coated your hand in a strange green liquid as it went limp, shoving it to the ground, Yena looked up in fear. Neither of you two felt as confident anymore.

It was 3:32am. You and Yena were particularly frustrated as you two found nothing for the third expedition in a row. So frustrated in fact you had Yena on your face. Pussy grinding against your tongue as her hips moved desperately chasing her high, her moans filled the spacecraft as you drowned in her. Her taste was so distinctly Yena, begging for more. Hands grabbing her ass as you pressed her further in. Rhythmic licks went from top to bottom, bumping against her clit as your saliva became an equal with her juices. Yena put your hair in a choke hold, pulling it roughly as you coaxed her to her orgasm. A shrill screech as she came undone on top of you. Falling into the bed.

Yena wasn't one for words when her actions could speak louder, ripping off your clothes as she grinded against you, gasps filling the room as she lubed you up with slick. Putting it in with reckless abandonment, the sounds of skin clapping relentless on the ears as her tightness gripped you. Neither of you were going to last particularly long as she bounced incessantly. Her hair sticking to her head and creating a beautiful frame of her beauty.

The well detonated inside both of you on the final thrust, painting Yenas walls white with your sticky seed, breathing a sigh of contempt as the anger of you two disappeared.

Yena kept it brief "Your my boyfriend now. And we are finding the engine parts tomorrow"

A/N wow I lost steam so rapidly towards the end. Still proud of the rest of the work.

part 2

#kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #Kpop x yn #Smut #Romance #Fanfiction #Fan fic #Imagines #soloist fic #yena smut #izone smut #izone yena smut

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morbidology · 8 months ago

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In the early morning hours of May 26, 2013, Nigerian cook Harrison Okene found himself in a nightmare scenario aboard the tugboat Jascon-4 off the coast of Nigeria. The vessel capsized due to heavy ocean swells, trapping Okene in a small air pocket within the ship's wreckage as it sank to the seafloor, nearly 100 feet below the surface.

Despite the odds stacked against him, Okene managed to stay in that pocket of air in the ship's overturned hull, where he awaited rescue. Over the next three days, he battled hypothermia, dehydration, and complete darkness.

Okene's miraculous survival came on the third day when divers from DCN Global, a Dutch company engaged in the recovery operation, stumbled upon him during their search for what they presumed were bodies. Equipped with video cameras, one diver was astonished to see a hand reaching out from the darkness. Okene, against all expectations, was alive.

The rescue operation, captured on the diver's helmet camera, showed the meticulous process of bringing Okene to safety. Fitted with an oxygen mask, he was carefully guided out of the air pocket and transferred to a diving bell, then to a decompression chamber for another 60 hours to prevent decompression sickness.

#harrison okene #world #survival

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Writing Notes: Hypothermia

Hypothermia - A potentially fatal condition; occurs when body temperature falls below 95°F (35°C).

The danger signs include:

intense shivering;

stiffness and numbness in the arms and legs;

stumbling and clumsiness;

sleepiness, confusion, disorientation, amnesia, and irrational behavior; and

difficulty speaking.

The signs and symptoms of hypothermia follow a typical course, though the body temperatures at which they occur vary from person to person depending on age, health, and other factors.

The impact of hypothermia on the nervous system often becomes apparent quite early. Coordination, for instance, may begin to suffer as soon as body temperature reaches 95°F (35°C).

The early signs of hypothermia also include cold and pale skin and intense shivering; the latter stops between 90°F (32.2°C) and 86°F (30°C).

As body temperature continues to fall:

speech becomes slurred,

the muscles go rigid, and

the victim becomes disoriented and experiences eyesight problems.

Other harmful consequences include:

Dehydration

Liver and kidney failure

Heart rate, respiratory rate, and blood pressure rise during the first stages of hypothermia, but fall once the 90°F (32.2°C) mark is passed.

Below 86°F (30°C) most victims are comatose, and

below 82°F (27.8°C) the heart’s rhythm becomes dangerously disordered.

However, even at very low body temperatures, people can survive for several hours and be successfully revived, though they may appear to be dead.

TREATMENT

Until emergency help arrives, a victim of outdoor hypothermia should be brought to shelter and warmed by:

removing wet clothing and footwear,

drying the skin, and

wrapping him or her in warm blankets or a sleeping bag.

Gentle handling is necessary when moving the victim to avoid disturbing the heart.

Rubbing the skin or giving the victim alcohol can be harmful.

Warm drinks such as clear soup and tea are recommended for those who can swallow.

Anyone who aids a victim of hypothermia should also look for signs of frostbite and be aware that attempting to rewarm a frostbitten area of the body before emergency help arrives can be extremely dangerous. For this reason, frostbitten areas must be kept away from heat sources such as campfires and car heaters.

Rewarming is the essence of hospital treatment for hypothermia.

How rewarming proceeds depends on the body temperature.

Other considerations, such as the patient’s age or the condition of the heart, can influence treatment choices.

Different approaches are used for patients who are:

mildly hypothermic (the patient’s body temperature is 90–95°F [32.2–35°C]),

moderately hypothermic (86–90°F [30–32.2°C]), or

severely hypothermic (less than 86°F [30°C]).

Mild Hypothermia

Reversed with passive rewarming.

This technique relies on the patient’s own metabolism to rewarm the body.

Once wet clothing is removed and the skin is dried, the patient is covered with blankets and placed in a warmroom.

The goal is to raise the patient’s temperature by 0.9–3.6°F (0.5–2°C) an hour.

Moderate Hypothermia

Often treated first with active external rewarming and then with passive rewarming.

Active external rewarming - applying heat to the skin (e.g., by placing the patient in a warm bath or wrapping the patient in electric heating blankets).

Severe Hypothermia

Requires active internal rewarming, which is recommended for some cases of moderate hypothermia as well.

There are several types of active internal rewarming:

Cardiopulmonary bypass - the patient’s blood is circulated through a rewarming device and then returned to the body, is considered the best, and can raise body temperature by 1.8–3.6°F (1–2°C) every 3–5 minutes. However, many hospitals are not equipped to offer this treatment. The alternative is to:

Introduce warm oxygen or fluids into the body.

Hypothermia treatment can also include, among other things:

insulin,

antibiotics, and

fluid replacement therapy.

When the heart has stopped, both cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) and rewarming are necessary. Once a patient’s condition has stabilized, he or she may need treatment for an underlying problem such as alcoholism or thyroid disease.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Realistic Injuries

#writing reference #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #literature #writing inspiration #writing notes #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #writing ideas #creative writing #fiction #hypothermia #medicine #writing resources

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pokemonshelterstories · 2 months ago

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Apparently, Spinda can contract cerebellar hypoplasia. My girl is extra wobbly. The vet only caught it because he works with Spinda regularly, and was able to notice something off.

The clinic I used to go to for her checkups never noticed, and I doubt anyone who isn't deeply familiar with Spinda ever would.

It's got me wondering, though; what are some diseases that are extremely difficult to notice in a pokemon unless you specialize in their care?

oh, that's fascinating...i wonder how much of an impact that has on her balance and motor function! this is why specialty vets are so important for non-exotic pokemon. the range of information about pokemon biology is so wide that no vet could ever learn it all!

there are tons of potential health issues that are harder to spot depending on the pokemon- heart disease in spoink, muscular degeneration in abra, metabolic disorders in komala and slakoth...but in my opinion the most nefarious issue is any disease where a primary symptom is disregulation of temperature in fire types. fever can be a silent killer in fire type pokemon, because trainers often don't think the check their temperature (or might not even be able to without specialized veterinary equipment!). it's rare that they get to a temperature where it would be lethal, but i have read several case studies of fire types who unfortunately passed away because their fever wasn't noticed until further symptoms developed and their illness worsened. hypothermia is less common, but it's been documented in fire type pokemon belonging to traveling trainers when they stop for a checkup at a pokemon center, all without the trainer noticing.

your spinda's case is obviously very different, because only a specialist would notice that, but this is why it's important to be familiar with the signs of common diseases in any pokemon you own- especially if the pokemon's normal behaviors or morphology may mask signs of illness!

#charlietalks #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokemon health

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losersimonriley · 2 months ago

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A New Fan of Winter

Happy ghoapmas, @baklavasudarajako <3 I loved your request, a pile of fluff is exactly what I’ve been needing to write

Thank you @forsaire for hosting the ghoap holiday exchange!

ao3 link

Ghost, Soap, and a pile of blankets, 1347 words, fluff, pre-relationship

He's firmly decided this is the softest blanket he's ever touched in his life. Probably the softest he'll ever touch.

Last night was the best sleep he's ever had.

For once, they lucked out with a safe house. Full pantry, an actual bed, warm blankets—and he gets to share it with Soap.

What more could he possibly want?

A fire, probably. That's not any fault of the safe house, though. It's perfectly equipped with a wood stove and a whole shed full of kindling. Whoever keeps this place supplied deserves a raise. It's just that the smoke would put them at risk, being that they are on an op and safety is rather the whole point of the safe house.

There's a chill in the air for certain, but it's not terrible. No hypothermia risk, just the risk of being uncomfortable. But that's where these godly blankets have come in.

Dawn is breaking. One curtain is open, letting in the dull pink light of an overcast sky at sunrise. The other is shut, throwing the bottom halves of their bodies in shadow.

Soap snores next to him. Looks like Ghost wasn't the only one getting a good night's sleep. There's a drool stain on the pillow beneath his slightly open mouth. Disgusting. It's so endearing his heart might burst.

Thankfully, they've each got their own blankets. Ghost is no stranger to sharing a bed with Soap on missions, and he knows exactly how the single sheet equation pans out every time. Soap steals all the blankets in his sleep, even though he runs hot, only to end up throwing them on the floor before the night's over. It never fails. Simon wakes up shivering every fucking time.

But not this time. He burrows deeper into his four layer burrito. Johnny only has two, and true to form, they are dangling off his ankle into the floor below.

How does that bastard not have icicles growing out of his nose? Ghost is warm, all things considered, but his hands and feet are always icy, no matter place or time, and right now is no exception.

He wants those blankets that Soap is wasting, but grabbing them would require him to break free of his warm cocoon. And his freshly woken brain just can't comprehend why he'd ever want to move.

As if psychically linked, Johnny's blue eyes blink open.

"Cold?" Soap's voice cracks with disuse from sleep. Funny how he knows exactly what's on his mind right upon waking. Nobody knows him like Soap. Nobody has, or ever will, know him like Soap.

"Just the extremities."

"Shite. Here."

Soap raises the corner of Simon's blanket nest, effectively letting cold air stream in.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? Warmin' ye up."

Soap scoots underneath the layers and pulls his own two covers off the floor, throwing them on top of the pile. Instant body heat soaks into his skin. Like being on a beach in summer instead of a cabin in the middle of freezing winter.

His feet immediately tuck themselves under Johnny's legs, seeking warmth from the human furnace.

"Bleedin' frostbitten Jesus, Ghost," Soap hisses, leg jerking in surprise, but not pulling away.

"Bad circulation Jesus, actually."

Soap takes that as an invitation to wrap his arms around him, pulling him close and rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Simon doesn't ask what he's doing again, because he'd say the same thing. Warmin' ye up. That's all it is.

He wouldn't let just any brazen sergeant manhandle him.

Simon's eyes start to grow heavy again. This is—he could get used to this.

"Look," Johnny says. Of course there won't be any going back to sleep now that Johnny is awake. Simon peeks his eyes open to see Soap nodding at the window with a soft grin plastered to his lips.

Turning over in Soap's arms takes far more effort than it should, but seeing the fat snowflakes falling in the morning light makes overcoming orneriness worth it. Especially when he turns back to face Johnny again and his face looks like that. Absolute wonder. Like a child on Christmas.

"Maybe it'll stick and we can go out later," Soap says, eyes still stuck on the window.

Soap wants to go play in the snow just outside enemy territory, in the frigid temperature—when there is a perfectly warm bed right here. Because Soap is classically and certifiably insane.

And Ghost already knows he'll be obliging him later.

"If it accumulates, we can kiss tomorrow's exfil goodbye."

"Well. Least it's not a bad place we got here."

"Be better with a fire."

"Were ye cold all night?"

Would that have made you do this quicker?

"Nah. Blankets are good."

"They're too hot."

"You're too hot."

He didn't—

He didn't actually mean for it to come out that way. He meant it literally, as in Soap's body temperature is literally too hot. All the time.

Christ.

An utterly devilish look crosses the other's face. Simon is in for it. There's no use in even trying to backpedal. He's just going to have to let the demon run his course.

"How hot is too hot, LT? Would ye say I'm pure smokin'?"

"It's not too late to learn how to sleep with one eye open, you know."

Soap barks out a laugh, and the morning breath hits Simon square in the face. He doesn't mind at all.

It grows quiet between them once more, and if he didn't know any better, he might think Soap had fallen back asleep with a pleased smile still on his face. But he does know better. Soap doesn't go back to sleep. Once he wakes up, that's it.

Just playing possum, he is. Just relaxing in this rare, comfortable moment. So he stares. At long black lashes that hide the colour of the snow clouds outside. At the curve of his nose. At overgrown stubble and a faded chin scar. At the warmth.

He could stay right here forever. Cold be damned. All the warmth he's ever needed is tucked in beside him.

"Was that an instant coffee pack I saw in the cupboard last night?" He eventually breaks the peace.

"Aye," Johnny says, eyes still closed.

"Could you make some?"

"I could. Will I?"

"Soap," he grouses. "I'm your lieutenant."

Johnny opens his crinkling, amused eyes, and removes his hands from Ghost to prop his head up on his elbow and look down at him. It makes him feel like he's under a microscope. He swears he can almost see snowflakes reflecting in his eyes.

"Gonna order me into the kitchen, sir?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Maybe I'll do it for a wee price."

"And what's that?"

Johnny just keeps looking at him, face going softer by the second. Simon's stomach does a little tumble, because he thinks, maybe, for some reason…Johnny is about to kiss him.

And he'd let him. Of course he would. All the flirting, the jokes, the touches—maybe they're past due for a kiss.

"If it snows enough, we at least have to go for a walk out there. And if I smack you with a snowball, it cannae be helped."

The butterflies in his stomach are promptly replaced with disappointment. He really thought—

"And maybe…," Johnny starts, but doesn't finish the thought, eyes dropping down to his lips for just a split second. Ghost catches it, and the butterflies are suddenly swarming again.

"Maybe what?"

Johnny gives a small shake to his head, grinning down at him.

"Nothin'. You'll have to go out in the snow with me for that one."

Hm. Good thing he was already planning on it.

Soap leaves the protection of their blankets—he bets he was close to coming out anyway, regardless of his coffee request, due to overheating. Insane.

There is something cosy about the sparkling flakes falling outside as Soap rattles around the kitchen. He's never been much of a winter fan, but for Johnny? He could be.

Maybe he already is.

#I hope you enjoy these pinning losers #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #mine.fic #ghoap holiday exchange 2024

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mercury-healthcare · 2 years ago

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lookingfts · 1 month ago

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Dialogue Game - Prompts #13 and #14

#13 - “Why won’t you let me kiss you?” (fitrahgolden) and “Get stuffed.”/”You first.” (Mimix007)

“Why won’t you let me kiss you?”

Kate hates herself for the little shiver that traverses her spine, the way her blood warms in her veins at his teasing smile. She hates Anthony Bridgerton and everything he stands for - the philandering, the privilege, the cockiness. Kate would like to think she’s above it all. But clearly, her lizard brain is operating on its own wavelength. “I would, quite seriously, rather make out with a thornbush.”

That only makes him grin wider, leaning his elbows on the textbook he’s been pretending to read for the past thirty minutes. He’d simply walked up and sat down at her table like he owned it - well, she wouldn’t be altogether shocked if his family had made some eye-watering donation to the campus library - and Kate thought that ignoring him would be the best defense. She should have known better.

“As much as I think you and a thornbush are equally matched,” he muses, and she scowls at him in response. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks. You know I would make you feel good.”

“Get stuffed.”

“You first.”

The knowledge that Anthony has the equipment to back up such a taunt - so says half the students in their English lit class - infuriates her. She could stand to be properly filled up, relieve the stress that’s building in her shoulders, and he knows it.

But she’s not interested in being anyone’s second, or tenth or forty-fifth choice.

So she grabs her laptop and shoves it into her bag, and as casually suggestive as she can manage, says, “Oh, don’t worry about me. I will.”

And walks away, with Anthony gaping at her back.

#14 - “I think I’m obsessed with you.” “I know. You keep smelling me.” and “Okay that’s it I am going to sleep in the bathtub.”/“You're the only source of warmth in this stupid hotel, come back to bed before I get hypothermia." and “Stop looking at me like that.” (Anonymous)

She knows better than to believe anything he says.

Anthony has been her cameraman for six years, and her best friend for nearly as long. There’s no one else she could imagine working with. If he ever left, she’d probably never make a documentary again for the rest of her life.

But as much as she trusts him, he’s also an incorrigible flirt. Kate sees the women (and men) he picks up, sees them disappear into the hotel and emerge in the morning all rumpled and smiling. She’s tried it a few times - picking someone up in a bar in some foreign country, chasing the same pleasure and trying to forget about whoever Anthony is touching only a few doors down.

It doesn’t work for her like it works for him, so she throws herself into work instead. Types up scripts and returns emails until she’s nodding off, touches herself quickly and then falls into a dead sleep.

Kate doesn’t know if that’s pitiful. She thinks she has a life that most people would envy. And when they’re in some incredible remote location, and she gets to experience it with her best friend in the world, and they tell a story that matters - she doesn’t feel pitiful.

Sometimes they don’t get the luxury of separate rooms. It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed - Anthony, mercifully, refrains from finding a partner on those nights - and Kate feels simultaneously wired and exhausted as she climbs under the thin covers.

“It’s going to be cold tonight,” Anthony says. He’s a bit drunk from dinner, their host serving up a generous amount of vodka. She can smell the bite of it on his breath. “C’mere.”

She doesn’t fight as he gathers her in his arms, pressing his solid chest against her back. It is freezing, and even with her jumper and fleece leggings, Kate feels it down to her bones. Anthony is always warm, somehow, and made even more so by the alcohol. “Thanks.”

He exhales, hot on her neck, and she shivers a little at the sensation. It’s almost painful when his nose nudges against the skin there, and he breathes her in. “You looked so beautiful today,” Anthony says, his hand sliding up her stomach. Kate reminds herself to take his words for what they are: the ramblings of an intoxicated slut who feels entirely too comfortable with her. He won’t take it too far; he never does, always backing away when things get too serious. Even when she wishes he wouldn’t stop, wants to see what might happen if they actually crossed that line they’re always skirting. “I think I’m obsessed with you.”

“I know. You keep smelling me,” Kate says lightly, making it a joke. She could ask him to back off, and he would in a second. But she doesn’t. Because just this little taste of him feels so good, too good to give up, even if it always leaves her starving.

Anthony chuckles and feigns pulling away. “Okay, that’s it. I’m going to sleep in the bathtub.”

Kate grabs his arm and tugs him toward her. “You’re the only source of warmth in this stupid hotel,” she grumbles benignly. “Come back to bed before I get hypothermia.”

She tugs him too hard, or he goes with too little resistance, and he ends up half on top of her. They share a delirious laugh, and Kate feels drunk too, even though she can handle her liquor far better than he can.

“I should have cut you off,” Kate says, running an affectionate hand through his hair. “We’re never going to get to sleep at this point.”

He lifts his head, looking at her directly, and it’s not hard to feel the shift. Anthony’s eyes are slightly glazed, but no longer mischievous. He looks oddly serious, and Kate realizes a little belatedly that her hand is still tangled in his curls.

She goes to move it away, but Anthony grabs her halfway, his thumb smoothing over her fingers. Kate bites her lip, feeling like the ground is crumbling beneath her feet. They’ve never stepped this close to the line. It’s too close.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Kate says softly. He tells her she’s beautiful all the time, and she believes that he believes it in an objective sort of way. But the way he’s looking at her - like she is one of the wonders of the world they’ve been privileged to see together - she can’t handle that. She can’t trust that.

“I always look at you like this.”

“No, you don’t.”

Anthony smiles, and it’s slightly sad. “Yes, I do.”

She can’t believe anything he says. Even if she desperately wants to. “Let’s just go to bed,” Kate says tersely. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m tipsy. There’s a difference,” he rebuts, sounding more sober, all earlier teasing gone. She’s done so many terrifying things in her life - visited conflict zones, stood on the tops of mountains, played with wild animals - but this is the thing that scares her the most. Having an honest conversation with the other half of her soul, a conversation that could shatter everything good in her life. “Maybe I’m just drunk enough to ask you the thing I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

He lets go of her hand only to drift his fingertips along her jaw, tender and reverential. Kate can’t look away from him, can’t stop him. Anthony owns too much of her. She didn’t realize how much, until this moment.

“Do you ever think about it?” he murmurs. “Did you ever want to be the person I took back to my room?”

Kate knows she should say no, but the idea of lying to Anthony makes something heavy and ugly sit in her stomach. She can’t tell him the truth, either, not until she knows it’s safe. “Do you think about it?”

Anthony’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Always,” he confesses, his thumb pressing into her jaw. “You’re always there with me.”

He tips his head, his lips meeting hers, and Kate gives in to it. Lets his hands explore her body, his tongue explore her mouth, lets him consume her. She feels like a glutton after surviving for so long on so little.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispers, curling into him, exhilarated and floating and scared all at once. “I can’t.”

He shushes her, soothes her, kisses her gently. “You won’t,” Anthony promises, imprinting the words on her skin, on her heart. “I’m never going to let you go.”

#prompt game #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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nesaluvstherecoms · 7 months ago

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𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Feelings of grief, mentions of injuries.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

The only sound that echoes through the medical wing room is the continuous buzz of the white lights above. It goes on and on and on, nonstop. And the more it continues, the louder it rings in Miles’ ears, piercing painfully through his brain. He hates it.

The stitches on his face burn, the wounds still swollen even with the fluid draining that the medics did on them. The gauze pads that cover them are uncomfortable and dry against the raw skin, secured awfully tightly by bandages and adhesive tape, adding to the burning sensation on his face. Miles’ heavy eyes remain unfocused, staring blankly at some random corner of the room. If only Prager was there. He would’ve stitched his cuts so carefully and soak the gauze pads in cold povidone-iodine to keep the cuts disinfected and cool his burning skin. He would’ve carefully placed freezing cold gel pads against his now dark purple almost black bruises, relieving some of his pain. But Prager is not here anymore is he? His body is probably rotting somewhere, decomposing in the cursed icy waters of Pandora. He’s now just another name, fallen in battle, soon to be forgotten. Miles hates it.

His swollen eyes try to move somewhere else around the room. That horribly bright white light blinds his vision, hurting the sensitive retina of his sharp, golden eyes. The buzzing gets louder.

Everything hurts. His skin, his flesh, his muscles, his nerves, his bones. Everything hurts. His heart. Everything hurts.

Was this all for nothing?

No, he doesn’t think so.

Why is he even doing this?

It’s his purpose.

He is a living tool.

He is the Colonel.

He’s living another man’s life.

No, it’s his life.

He’s suffering the consequences of another man’s actions.

No, those are the consequences of his own actions.

He has opened his heart for another man’s child.

No, that’s his own child.

He’s not that man.

Right?

The buzzing of the lights above him gets louder. His breathing is slow, shallow, too exhausted to even inhale long enough. His heavy eyelids hood over, blurring half his vision. The sheets and blankets placed over him yesterday to counter the hypothermia he was suffering, now feel awfully hot against his exhausted body. He wants to remove some of them, to relieve himself from this heat that has enveloped his form, causing him to sweat profusely. He tries to raise his bruised hand to pull them off, but he can’t move his arm. It remains still on the bed, taking IV fluid from multiple needles sticking into his veins.

He is completely naked underneath. The medics stripped him bare from his wet uniform before treating his wounds and stuffing him in the covers he’s currently in. He was shivering uncontrollably, the hypothermia getting to him as soon as he stepped down from his mountain banshee. The animal kept screeching as people rushed him towards the medical wing, trying desperately to follow but the soldiers sedated it before it could harm anyone. The rest is a blur to him. He doesn’t remember much. Just fragments of doctors erratically moving around him. It might’ve been the painkillers. He’s not sure.

The heat gets worse. He starts sweating harder. His body feels sticky underneath the covers. The buzzing continues.

His eyes feel so heavy. Maybe he should go to sleep again. He’s still absolutely exhausted. The medics said he might be suffering internal bleeding from all the equipment on the Sea Dragon crashing into his body as it was tipping over. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of his pathetic condition. Colonel Miles Quaritch reduced to a bloodied and weak mess. But no expression takes form on his face. It’s just blank. He closes his eyes. He wants to sleep. The heat doesn’t let him.

The card scanner on the other side of the door beeps, and soon enough a gentle hiss is heard from the doorway. Slowly, Miles opens his exhausted eyes again. A human doctor and two human medical assistants step in, making their way towards the large Recom sized bed he is laying on.

“Colonel Quaritch.” The doctor greets, a polite smile on his lips. “How are you feeling, sir?”

The assistants quickly move over to check his condition, observing how much IV fluid he has absorbed and the information on the monitors he is strapped to. Miles doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have the energy. Instead, his heavy eyelids slowly shut close again. Being met with silence, the doctor nods slowly, looking away and pulling out his datapad. One of the medical assistants leans over, finally pulling away one of the blankets covering him, relieving some of the heat from his body. The doctor begins checking over the data on the screen. As he is scrolling through the numbers, with his eyes remaining on the device at hand, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“We weren’t able to tell you yesterday, since you fell asleep shortly after being treated, but we have good news for you to make you feel better, sir. Your Lieutenant survived. The teams that were sent over to the scene were able to pull his unconscious body out of the water during the CASEVAC. He is currently being treated in another room. His condition is stable.”

Miles opens his eyes. He looks upwards, tracing the patterns on the ceiling above him. CASEVAC? Teams? But as the last sentence leaves the human doctor’s mouth, a gentle wave of relief washes over Miles, lifting some of the suffocating, heavy weight on his chest. Lyle is alive. He’s alive. The buzzing of the lights stops.

Y/N’s right leg bounces rapidly up and down beneath the conference table.

“The numbers are still going. We haven’t recovered everyone from the water and wreckage yet. But one thing is for sure, most of the fleet have been killed.”

“And the natives?”

“Very aggravated.”

“How much equipment have we lost?”

“Until now we have estimated to about five billion dollars worth.”

“Bloody hell.” Riley huffs out.

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, disappointment weighing in her chest like a brick. They have been in this conference room for about two hours now and each detail mentioned gets worse and worse. She sits back and listens as Ardmore, ALPHA, operators from other departments and scouts continue on discussing. The tip of her tail moves slowly below her, adding to the rapid movement of her foot while she leans back on the cushioned chair with her right elbow on the armrest and her balled up fist against her right cheek. All this, just because of one man’s incompetence.

“How about amrita sourcing?”

“We have halted it momentarily as we rack up the numbers. We have to redistribute quotas to the remaining Sea Dragons to make up for the amrita sourcing we are losing with Captain Scoresby’s fleet.”

John who is sitting next to Y/N, slowly turns his eyes to take a look at her through the corner of his vision, taking in her reactions. But Y/N’s face remains stoic, just listening carefully to every detail being said like she has been doing for the past two hours. He wonders what is going through her mind. But before he can ponder on it more, Y/N shifts in place and opens her mouth. As soon as her voice gets to the ears of the people in the room, it falls dead silent and all attention turns to her.

“How about Colonel Quaritch? What was his testimony?”

Her question hangs in the air for some seconds. The operators who were investigating the scene and its circumstances exchange panicked eye contact with each other before one of them clears his throat and replies.

“Colonel Quaritch’s condition is pretty serious. He remains under intense supervision in the medical wing so therefore we have not had a chance to speak with him yet.”

The rest of the people in the room turn towards Y/N for her reaction. Her eyes narrow down at the man, clearly displeased by his answer. An uncomfortable feeling pits at the bottom of his stomach as the Recom’s alien eyes pin him in place.

“I see.” Is all she says before gesturing with her gloved hand for them to continue. The others exchange brief glances before the meeting then proceeds again as before. As people go back to discussing, Ardmore’s eyes land on Y/N, giving her a look of curiosity to see what she’s thinking. The Recom’s eyes turn back at her, with almost slitted pupils and a spark that has started to brew over until it is time for it to snap. Ardmore holds eye contact with her second in command for a few seconds before she turns her eyes forward again and sighs. Quaritch has a storm coming his way.

To say that Y/N was incredibly disappointed and angry, would be the understatement of the century. But to still be entirely fair, Y/N understood Quaritch’s side to some extent. He had been given only one Sea Dragon for only a week to get this mission accomplished. He had no exact idea of his target’s location, and his knowledge of the sea environment was limited. Even from her judgement, this could lead anyone to desperation. However, an officer with the rank and experience Quaritch has, would be wise enough to not rule out the possibility of letting this mission go, for the sake of preventing collateral damage and losing human lives in the massive amount that his actions caused. An officer with his expertise, would also know that chasing one target is not worth sabotaging said mission, after finally managing to get the upper hand. Not only that, but still managing to get your target to fight you one on one to death, and not only still failing to kill said target, but almost dying yourself, that’s just purely appalling. His squadron are all dead except for one operator, an entire Sea Dragon is completely destroyed along with billions of dollars of all the equipment and amrita vials that were in it, the entire fleet of said Sea Dragon are almost all dead, the sea natives are now incredibly hostile and aggravated and that’s hundreds maybe even thousands of them, a prisoner who spent months in base learning everything from the inside is now on the loose, apparently those whale things have now learned to fight back, and amidst all of this; Jake Sully is still alive and in a safe place along with his savage bitch and his demon spawns. Well fucking done Miles Quaritch. Well fucking done.

Y/N strolls irritated through the halls of the Ops Center, with John, Riley, Fernando and Oscar following behind. People open the way immediately without even blinking twice, not wanting to get in the way of the Recom General who has just stopped fuming after reading the newest report on her desk that morning. And who could blame her? Only the loss of that Sea Dragon and its entire equipment catalogue is catastrophic, let alone the amount of human and Recom lives lost. This is the biggest tragedy that the RDA has suffered since boarding, and bodies are still being pulled out of the water and wreckage.

John keeps an eye on Y/N as they walk, studying her expression. With the years the team has had with her as their commanding officer, they know what’s about to go down. Quaritch and Ardmore both better start appreciating the final moments of peace they are getting right now because they will be their last.

。。。

Quaritch’s tail can’t stop moving behind him. His body is tense, shoulders flexed and ears folded back. He takes a deep sip of carbon dioxide from his Recom Breather, trying to ground himself by filling his lungs with the much needed gas. The atmosphere in the two story hall is calm for the moment, humans pass below him, paying him no mind as they prepare and calibrate the Holofloor for the upcoming meeting that he has been dreading for the past week. Quaritch is about to face General Ardmore and the Major General for the first time. Since the battle at the Three Brothers, he has yet to give his side of the story and explain his actions. But having read the final report on the aftermath of said battle, even Miles Quaritch knows that he is in deep shit. As he was reading through every line on the document, it dawned heavily upon him how carried away he had gotten during that battle. The desire to kill Jake Sully had completely blinded him and all thought processes were thrown out the window. Though, he doesn’t fully understand why himself. Now he is left with no team, no equipment, no mission and worst of all; he has to cover for his ass in front of the two officers that command the entirety of Bridgehead and the RDA.

For the past week he has been pondering on what to say and the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he has no valid excuses. Facing Ardmore alone will prove to be challenging, however he has been able to persuade her before so chances are he can do it again. On the other hand, the Major General is still an unknown mystery to him. From what he has gathered from the people on Bridgehead, General F/N L/N is also a Recom, who commands her own squadron of highly decorated and skilled Recom officers. She is always busy, doesn’t smile much, talks only to people she deems worthy of her attention, and spends her time in strictly two locations; either the battlefield or her office. From the troopers who accompany her and her team in missions, he has heard that she has no remorse when it comes to killing Na’vi and will turn the barrel of her gun on anyone who stands in her way, even her own soldiers. So for her to take time out of her day and come and interrogate him about his failed mission, it means that he really fucked up. But if his logic is correct, if he manages to convince Ardmore that it was all just a big accident and get her to give him another chance in pursuing Sully, then General L/N won’t really have a say in it. Right? She’s second in command after all.

As he continues thinking to himself, the sound of footsteps heavier than a human’s behind him catches his attention. He turns around, eyes slightly wide as the large and buff frame of the other male Recom gets closer to him with a warm smile.

“Colonel.” Wainfleet greets softly, nodding his head once in respect. At the sight of his right hand man, alive and well in front of him, a gentle warmth fills Miles’ chest. He smiles, opening his arms.

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” He asks softly as he hugs him, both men wrapping their buff arms around each other’s shoulders in a tight and comforting embrace. Lyle’s own soft smile doesn’t leave his face, patting Miles’ shoulder firmly as they part, giving it a gentle squeeze, and careful not to hurt any of his bruises. Their arms remain holding each other, large and bruised hands grasping each other’s veiny forearms. The Corporal’s face is also bruised, with a stitch on the upper left of his forehead. But it’s much less wounded than Miles’ and it looks like it’s healing well.

“I heard you were gonna report to the Generals today. I came to back you up, Colonel. I am the only other Recom who was there and survived after all. It’s only a matter of time before they called me in too.” He replies, squeezing Miles’ shoulder again as he speaks before they both release the grip they have on each other. Quaritch’s eyes look down, his head nodding once.

“So it’s really true then. They’re all dead.” He says in a low tone, confirming the worst case scenario that he had been afraid of for the past week. Wainfleet lowers his head, his ears pressing back against his head before he nods sadly.

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.”

Miles nods one last time in understanding, deciding to push the feelings of mourning away for the time being, before he looks up at the Recom in front of him with a sad but proud smile.

“Well, all that matters now is that we’re alive and well. Welcome back, soldier.” He says, grabbing the back of Lyle’s neck playfully and squeezing it as the other man chuckles, the deep and raspy sound resonating from the base of his throat.

“Thank you, Colonel.” Lyle replies softly, eyes staring into Miles’ with ambition and the confident glint of determination. “We won’t let the deaths of our brothers and sisters go in vain.”

The Colonel nods in return.

“Yer damn right.”

The doors of the Holofloor hall slide open with a loud hiss. Quaritch and Wainfleet part, turning towards the sound as the people in the room immediately start scrambling, setting up the giant device below their feet. Ardmore’s boots thud loudly on the ground as she enters the room, followed by her assistant, her right hand man, and six Recombinants that Quaritch has never seen before, while the large doors slide closed behind them. The Colonel and his Lieutenant straighten their postures as the RDA’s Expeditionary Force Commander approaches, face stoic and withered lips already pressed tightly into a thin line. The Recoms that follow her are large, with a strong, buff build and all dressed in a black Special Ops uniform, wearing full gear and all armed to their teeth. Quaritch and Wainfleet eye the way every inch of their skin is covered in thick layers of protection, black carrier plates with various equipment strapped firmly on their chests, boots laced tightly on their feet and tails wrapped in a semi-thick layer of military-grade black adhesive camo tape. At the sight alone, Quaritch and Wainfleet realize how little uniform they themselves are wearing compared to these Recoms. Their feet and shins are still exposed the same way they have been for months, their tank tops leave their arms bare and a good portion of their necks and collarbones exposed, and the sight of the other squad’s tails wrapped tightly in that camo tape sends an uncomfortable chill down their own tails. Large Recoms, armed to their teeth, with deadly faces and a proud glint in their eyes; these must be General L/N’s men.

Ardmore finally walks up to what’s left of the Deja Blu Recoms, taking her time to take a deep breath and ground herself before she has to deal with Quaritch yet again.

“General.” Quaritch greets firmly, saluting her and giving her a nod of respect as Wainfleet follows suit.

“Save your breath. You’ll need it.” Is all Ardmore replies with, making her way over to the people controlling the Holofloor to check if they have all the material ready. Quaritch and Wainfleet exchange a baffled stare, as Ardmore doesn’t even spare them a single glance. The other Recoms follow suit, dispersing through the Holofloor and doing their own thing. The atmosphere in the hall soon turns anxious. People start fidgeting as they wait for Y/N’s and the rest of the Recoms’ arrival. The technicians commanding the Holofloor are ready and are checking the material and footage of the battle with Ardmore next to them. Quaritch takes a look at the analogue watch on his left wrist. It’s almost time for the meeting to start, but General L/N doesn’t seem to have arrived yet. He lowers his wrist and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, praying silently that she will not show up and he will have to deal with just Ardmore today. However, the loud hiss of the large doors sliding open a few feet away, throws all of his hope out the window.

“Oh my, am I the last one to arrive? How embarrassing.”

Y/N’s smooth voice is teasing and filled with hints of sarcasm as she leisurely enters the hall with a smirk, scanning it with her amber eyes behind the round mirrored shades sitting on the bridge of her feline nose, the last four Recoms of her team following behind her. Quaritch and Wainfleet, along with everyone else turn towards her and her men, watching as they make their way to the Holofloor while the doors slide closed behind them.

“You’re just in time, L/N.” Ardmore speaks up, raising her eyes briefly to give her a glance, before turning her attention back to the screen playing the footage she was going over with the technicians.

Miles’ breath catches in his throat as soon as his eyes land on the woman approaching. From all the Recom and native women he has seen throughout his life and the memories from his predecessor, none seem to compare to the Major General. Her form is mind blowing beautiful, lean and toned with the perfect amount of plump that fills her in the right places. Her hips sway almost hypnotically as she walks towards them, with a long and elegant tail, wrapped in the same black camo tape, that sways behind her figure like she’s teasing. She is also dressed the same as her men, black uniform hugging her body and gear strapped tightly on her chest, hips and thighs, digging into the plump flesh. Her lean waist contrasts the curves that the gear accentuates, emerging between her carrier plate and modular shooter’s belt that’s loaded with pouches and different pocket storage bags. A rigid holster is strapped to her right thigh, holding a .40 caliber United Ballistics Zarkov-33, as the adjustable straps of the holster dig tightly into the mouth watering plump of her inner thigh, making the flesh swell between the openings.

The first thing Quaritch does is immediately remove his eyes from her form, disciplining himself internally to stop ogling at his higher up and show her some respect. Has he really gone so long without interacting with an attractive woman that he’s almost losing it? However, as he turns his eyes away and moves them to look at Wainfleet instead, his face almost loses color. Lyle is staring. Hard. His eyelids are frozen in place and his mouth is slightly agape as he shamelessly stares at Y/N without even realizing it himself. Quaritch clears his throat in his direction, and that seems to snap Lyle out of it as he straightens his posture and forcefully removes his eyes from the General, turning them to look back at Quaritch. The expression of “Fuck, she’s hot.” is plastered all over his face, and Quaritch squeezes his eyes shut in disappointment. He can’t believe this is really happening right now. Sometimes he forgets that when outside of the battlefield, Lyle does most of the thinking with his dick.

Y/N finally gets on the Holofloor, leisurely and slowly walking up the steps as if to test Quaritch’s reactions. The four Recoms that walked in with her stand behind her, lining up next to each other and taking ready formation, at attention for anything she might need. The Major General is now standing a few feet away in front of Quaritch and Wainfleet, moving one gloved hand up to remove the mirrored shades from her face. The sharp V1R receptors in the nasal cavity of Miles’ sensitive feline nose immediately capture the sweet scent emitting from her smooth striped skin as soon as she’s within range. His mouth waters, saliva pooling at the top of his tongue and he doesn’t know why. This has never happened before. Her scent holds something familiar but he can’t put his finger on it. Quaritch swallows thickly, before raising a toned arm and saluting her firmly.

“General L/N!”

Wainfleet follows suit, saluting her right after his Colonel. He is in no better shape. His sensitive nose has also captured her sweet scent and it brings back memories of his predecessor, listening in on the male Avatars he would escort into the forest, as they talked about the scents of the women and how much it affected them. He remembers huffing in amusement, mocking them internally for acting like dogs in heat, like savages. But as he stands there, nasal cavity slowly filling with the scent of this woman, who is his superior no less, making his tongue overflow in saliva, he understands. Quaritch reaches forward in Y/N’s direction for a handshake, his ears folding back in respect.

“Good evening ma’am-“

But as soon as he moves even an inch near her, all of ALPHA have drawn their weapons in a flash. John, Fernando, Riley and Oscar, being the ones nearest Y/N, have taken out their combat knives and have put their arms in front of her protectively, clutching their knives in a reverse knife grip with the cutting edges of the blades facing Quaritch. The rest of the team have all drawn their guns and are now aiming at his head threateningly, their stares hard and piercing. Ardmore who is watching behind the controlling panels of the Holofloor, tries to hide her grin by pressing her lips in a brief pucker, while Quaritch stands in front of Y/N and her men, baffled, with his open palm in front of him and ears pressed against his head as ten large Recombinants threaten to take his life right on the spot. Wainfleet stares shocked at them as well, one hand having instinctively moved on the gun strapped to the back of his left hip, to protect his Colonel.

“DO NOT APPROACH THE GENERAL WITHOUT PERMISSION! STEP AWAY, NOW!!” Riley yells in a threatening, loud and harsh tone, staring daggers at him. The people in the hall stare with wide eyes, the atmosphere having quickly turned tense. Quaritch raises his calloused hands up to the sides of his head to show them that he means no harm and takes a step back, looking at them with a still puzzled face. What the fuck just happened? Y/N chuckles, now having removed the shades from her beautiful face as the sound resonates from the base of her throat. She carefully clasps them on a small pocket on her left upper arm, and raises a hand to signal her team to stand at ease. The men and women exchange a few glances between each other before lowering their weapons, but maintain their threatening stares on the pair of Deja Blu Recoms. Miles swallows thickly again. Her eyes are so fucking beautiful.

Y/N’s pupils trail up and down Miles’ form, taking her time to take in every detail on him. His form is large, with muscular broad shoulders, as expected of a Marine. His biceps and triceps bulge out under the bruised skin of his buff arms, with long, thick veins that decorate his large hands and bulky forearms. A tattoo of an eagle is placed over his left lateral triceps, the black ink contrasting against the blue of his striped skin. His body comes down into a trim and lean waistline, as expected of a Na’vi but the sheer exercise that he seems to have put it under has made it a bit thicker, abs almost visible under the thin RDA standard issue military tank top. Her gaze moves lower, to his legs. His thighs are thick and muscular, tight against the fabric of his cut out camo pants and the leather of the holster strapped to the left one. Speaking of the cut out, his lower legs are still exposed like the last time she saw him, the soles of his feet planted on the cold glass of the Holofloor. His calves are thick, muscles strong and bulging out from all the running and movement he has been doing through the forest these past months.

Y/N’s eyes then travel up, raking over his collarbone and neck, to his face. Even though it’s still bruised, stitched and swollen, a small feeling arises in the depths of her chest as she stares at his features, just like when she saw his hologram on her first day on Pandora. He’s really fucking handsome. But even with these thoughts in her head, Y/N’s face shows nothing but stoicism. Under her gaze, Quaritch suddenly feels exposed, his mind racing at 100 mph to figure out what she’s judging on him.

“United States Marine Corps; General Orders and Knowledge for Tests and Inspections; Leadership Traits of a Military Officer. Number nine: Bearing: “You earned your uniform and everything on it; wear it with pride. Carry yourself with dignity and correctness. Master yourself before you try to master others.”” Y/N states, giving his form one last up and down look before her amber eyes trail up towards his own, looking through long lashes straight at him for the first time ever. “And yet here you are, a high ranking officer wearing a uniform with cut out pants, a tank top thinner than paper that leaves the entirety of you arms, neck and collarbone exposed, and walking on my floors with bare feet. Why are your toes out in my base? Where is your decency? Don’t you know any better?”

Quaritch’s eyes are so wide that his eyeballs look like they’re about to pop out of his skull at any second now. This woman might as well have just called him a whore for the lack of uniform on his body. Wainfleet’s mouth hangs open briefly before he composes himself and turns to stare at Quaritch, baffled. The rest of the Recoms in the room grin at each other, watching as the so called Colonel stands there, caught off guard. Quaritch clears his throat.

“I… uh- It was part of a strategy-“

Y/N raises a gloved hand to shut him up, turning her eyes away from him, unamused.

“I’ve heard enough.” She comments, walking towards the center of the Holofloor and saluting Ardmore, before turning towards the rest of the room. She opens her arms wide and brings her palms together into a powerful clap that echoes throughout the space, bringing all attention and heads towards her direction.

“Okay, anyone who is not part of this meeting; scram. The rest prepare your material and let’s begin.” She announces loudly. The people follow suit immediately, some leaving and some scrambling to get the footage and reports ready. Quaritch squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath to ground himself. This meeting hasn’t even started yet and it already went downhill. Ardmore was right, he really is going to need his breath for this. As the place empties out somewhat, and the ALPHA Recoms take seats, Y/N turns her head towards Quaritch and Wainfleet, her hair and neural whip braid moving with it as a sickly sweet smile plasters on her soft lips, promising the duo nothing but hell for the next few hours.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

Quaritch takes a deep sip of carbon dioxide from his Recom Breather.

“Disaster. Absolute disaster. Hundreds of people dead, an entire team of Recoms gone, billions of dollars of ships and equipment wrecked to the point of no return, extremely aggravated natives, a prisoner who knows almost everything on the loose, and your target is still free. What the hell do you have to say for yourself?” Y/N presses, walking through horrific holografic images of the wreckage and bodies being pulled out of the water, being projected from the Holofloor all around them. Ardmore watches with her lips pressed tightly, arms crossed over her chest as she observes the briefing going on in front of her. Lyle’s ears press low against his head, looking over at his Colonel with a worried expression on his bruised face. Quaritch swallows a thick glob of spit that has pooled in his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. His brain races to find an answer to dilute the situation and defend himself, but all odds are currently stacked against him. His actions caused this and he must face the consequences.

“I…” He trails off, pondering carefully on his next words. “I lost control of the situation-”

“Really?” Y/N frowns, cutting him off and crossing her arms under her chest. “You lost control of the situation? Well no shit, but that’s your best excuse?”

Quaritch clenches his jaw. His eyes remain down, refusing to look at either of the Generals. The tip of his large tongue pokes out briefly to wet his dry lips, but he immediately regrets it as the bottom left corner starts stinging painfully, reminding him of the busted bottom lip. He clears his throat and his eyes look up at the Major General.

“I had everything under control. But somethin’ went wrong and I lost the grip I had on the situation. I swear everything was going according to plan but they had advantages on water that I didn’t think were possible.”

“I am not asking you what they did, I am asking you why you failed so horribly.” Y/N replies, staring him down harshly. “I don’t want to hear bullshit of them having weird connections with nature, I want to hear why you, as a high ranking officer on this base, with the appropriate expertise and thinking skills, could not deescalate the situation, retake control of the circumstances and put the lives of the people under your command over your target.”

Ardmore remains silent as things unfold, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Quaritch has embarrassed her to an extent she did not think was possible for someone his rank, and Y/N’s condescending stares of “I told you so” made it even worse. Not only is she embarrassed but she is fuming as much as Y/N about the losses they took, so for now, she has decided to remain silent and let Y/N rip him a new one.

Quaritch swallows down again, clenching his jaw tighter. Before answering, he inhales more CO2 from his mask.

“I did as much as I could. My team did as well. They saved as many human lives as they could. But some things were just out of our control. They had the upper hand and we realized that too late.” He explains firmly as he puts the mask down, trying to get Y/N to understand his perspective as well.

“No. You had the chance to retreat. And you didn’t. You reeled Jake Sully back in and forced his hand into killing what was left of your team and the remaining people on deck. You could’ve retreated with the two daughters you had hostage and we would still be having some of our people, Deja Blu Recoms and two high value prisoners. But you didn’t. And I want to know why.” Y/N replies, not buying into what he’s saying for even a split second. Quaritch grinds his teeth slightly, his tail swinging once behind him. This is the first time he has met this woman and she is already at his throat like no one else ever has been. But he doesn’t really blame her. He would have reacted the same if he was in her position. Wainfleet’s anxious eyes remain on his Colonel.

“I… I thought I could accomplish the mission, finish what I went there for.”

“And why didn’t you?”

That catches Quaritch off guard. He thinks for a moment, brain working to figure out the answer to her question. Why didn’t he? Then he remembers. He doesn’t want to tell her about how Sully’s batshit crazy wife almost killed Spider, and how Miles Quaritch at that moment realized that that boy is his deepest weakness. But how is he supposed to come up with a believable lie and tell it to this woman’s face? Even Wainfleet doesn’t know what happened, no one does really. It was just him, Sully, his woman and spawns, and Spider.

Now everyone is looking at him for an answer. Wainfleet senses that something is wrong so he jumps in.

“The odds were really stacked against u-“

“Did I say you could speak?” Y/N cuts him off, her voice raising in tone as she holds up a pointer finger in his direction before snapping her head to glare at him. Wainfleet’s ears press harder against his head.

“No ma’am-“

“Then why are you still speaking?” She continues, her own ears folding back in irritation. Wainfleet shuts his mouth at that, lowering his head down.

“Everyone here barks when I tell them to bark and that includes you.” She finishes with Wainfleet and turns back to Quaritch. “So, let me rephrase my question. You had two of his daughters hostage. You reeled him back in. You had the upper hand. How did you end up losing that advantage?”

Quaritch clenches his jaw. He must think his answer carefully.

“His wife was there, pointing her arrow at my head. It was either my life or the girl’s.” He lies, with a firm voice and confident eyes, hoping Y/N won’t see through it.

“And what exactly was stopping her from firing the arrow?” Y/N asks, raising a brow, unimpressed. That starts to irritate Quaritch.

“I don’t know. Probably didn’t want to kill someone in front of her youngest daughter.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. It does make sense, no one would want to let their child watch a dead body drop, especially the Na’vi who are known for their empathy. But still, there’s something that doesn’t sit right. She brings the mask of her Recom Breather up to sip some much needed CO2, before continuing to question him.

“And then you managed to get Sully to fight you one on one.” She says, letting go of the mask. Quaritch nods.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And why did you let him go? I mean all that charade couldn’t have been for nothing.”

Quaritch takes a deep breath. This is gonna hurt his pride, badly.

“I didn’t let him go. He managed to choke me unconscious.”

That sentence hangs in the air uncomfortably. Multiple pairs of eyes land upon him, staring him down judgmentally. The ALPHA Recoms are the ones with the worst stares, piercing through him like an array of needles. An uncomfortable silence fills the space. Y/N raises both her brows, blinking rapidly. The fuck did he just say?

“Say that again?”

Quaritch squeezes his eyes shut briefly. God fucking damn it.

“We were engaged in close quarters combat, underwater, as the Sea Dragon was flippin’ over. He managed to get me into a chokehold, and the lack of carbon dioxide from that, adding to the lack of air underwater for several minutes; I lost consciousness.”

Another moment of silence passes. Then, Y/N presses her palms together, and brings them up so the sides of her pointer fingers press against her soft lips. Her beautiful face looks almost flabbergasted.

“Let me get this straight. You; Miles Quaritch, Colonel of the RDA, with the mind and expertise of an excellent long-timer trooper, and the strong and trained body of a twenty year old Na’vi; engaged in close quarters combat with Jake Sully; a wounded and exhausted jarhead Avatar that went AWOL more than a decade ago, who is pushing thirty four, who has had a litter of spawns and inhabits the build of your average dad; and you still lost?”

Quaritch remains silent. His eyes are now fixated hard on Y/N as each word of that sentence leaves her mouth, almost glaring at her but holding himself back. His lips are pressed tightly into a thin line, ears folded back and displeasure plastered all over his bruised face. Does she really need to rub his face in it? In front of all of these people? What is her damn deal? He wets his lips again, tongue raking over the skin, this time avoiding the busted corner.

“Indeed, ma’am.”

Silence falls yet again. Quaritch feels the uncomfortable prickles of humiliation slowly crawl up his neck. The judgmental stares of the people in the hall still fall on him, almost burning into his striped blue skin. Ardmore hasn’t changed her expression, remaining silent with her arms folded. Y/N on the other hand still has the sides of her pointer fingers together pressed against her lips. Her head is lowered a bit, her elegant eyebrows are furrowed in sheer disappointment and her golden eyes look up at him through long lashes with an expression that nearly pities him. Wainfleet who is standing by Quaritch’s side, has his head lowered, avoiding eye contact with anyone at all costs, finding the Holofloor glass beneath his bare feet safer to look at than the people in the room.

After a few more minutes of suffocating silence, Y/N lowers her hands and plants them on her hips. She brings her Recom Breather mask up again and takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut to ground herself before she loses her fucking mind. How the fuck was a man this incompetent given the rank of Colonel? She opens her eyes again, swallowing the saliva that has pooled in her mouth, and nods slowly in disappointment, pupils glued to some random corner of the Holofloor while she lets go of the mask. At this moment, not being able to handle the pressure and embarrassment anymore, Quaritch speaks up. But this time he turns towards Ardmore.

“Ma’am, I swear on my life, this was just a huge miscalculation on my part. It will never happen again-“

“You’re damn right it won’t.” Y/N’s voice cuts him off. He turns towards her again and this time he is met with a soul piercing glare that freezes him in place. His cropped ears press against his head, eyes widening and tail stiffing. Y/N raises her head, taking a few steps back slowly. Her combat boots thud on the Holofloor, the sound echoing through the silent hall. Slowly she turns around, turning her back towards Quaritch and Wainfleet, and walking to the center of the Holofloor.

“Well, I think that by now it is clear to all of us that this situation was entirely caused by Colonel Miles Quaritch’s bad decisions and actions.” She says out loud, making sure everyone in the hall can hear her. “Just like I predicted would happen.” She adds, turning her head back to give Ardmore a cold, cocky stare as she says the sentence. Ardmore clenches her jaw, looking away, defeated. Y/N’s lips stretch into a victorious grin, before she turns her attention towards the room again. She starts walking slowly around the Holofloor.

“Now that the situation has been concluded and the culprit has been identified, then it is only fair that the appropriate measures are taken. That means, that Colonel Miles Quaritch…” She states, stopping her movement to stare long and hard into Quaritch’s eyes. “Needs to be reprimanded.”

Quaritch’s jaw clenches tightly. He holds the eye contact with his superior, his breathing pattern getting faster. Y/N smirks lightly, breaking the eye contact and slowly walking to the edge of the Holofloor, facing her own team.

“So, before I make my decision. Would anyone like to chime in?” She asks, her tail raising up in an arch behind her. Quaritch balls up his fists at his sides, the veins on his forearms popping out. Is she being fucking serious? She’s asking for people who are lower in rank than him to decide on a punishment for him? No, this isn’t about briefing anymore. She’s trying to fucking humiliate him. The ALPHA Recoms on the other hand, exchange some knowing glances between them, hiding their smirks. Oh how they love their commander.

“Based on the severity of the situation he caused, an order of censure should be the right reprimand.” John speaks first, deep voice echoing through the room.

“Adding on to that, a forfeiture of the allowances and benefits he has on this base should be ordered. We all saw what happened when a single Sea Dragon was put under his command.” Fernando continues.

“Aside that, a reduction in rank seems the most logical course of action. We cannot afford a Colonel that makes these mistakes. And adding on to my suggestion, some time in correctional custody in the brig will do him good.” Riley adds, throwing a condescending glare in Quaritch’s direction.

“I believe extra duties should be given ta hem. I’m sure ya can think of some appropriate tasks tha’ he must perform ta make up fer hes mistakes.” Scott continues, looking at Y/N as he offers his suggestion.

“I would say that an order of restriction is more appropriate in this case.” Henry speaks up, one gloved hand holding his chin as he indulges in the topic at hand after some moments of thought. The rest of the team turn towards him. “He did not cause any problems for us when he was still roaming the jungle. Well at least, minimal problems. But the second he was given access to an area where Jake Sully was present, he went off the rails and crashed. I believe that an order of restriction that excludes the areas that the fugitive Avatar is deemed to be, would be a good addition after Colonel Miles Quaritch serves his punishment. He will have a better chance to focus in his missions if he is restricted in a certain area and banned from going near Jake Sully.”

Y/N brings her Recom Breather mask up to her face again, before nodding at her team once, proudly. Just as she thought, her team are as sharp as ever. They didn’t fail to identify any of the punishments she has in mind. The Recoms exchange smiles, looking at each other just as proudly. On the other hand, an additional vein has popped on Quaritch’s neck with each suggestion from the ALPHA Recoms. Wainfleet’s cropped ears are almost flattened against his bald head, eyes wide as he stares between his Colonel and the other Recoms. These people are animals.

Y/N finally turns towards Quaritch again. She slowly walks in the duo’s direction, stopping a bit further away.

“So, thanking my team for their feedback, even though some were harsher than what’s fit for this case,” She throws a glance in Riley’s direction before turning back to Quaritch. “Here’s what my reprimands are. And these are final.”

The entire hall is now listening with open ears as the intriguing play before their eyes is finally concluding. The Recoms, Ardmore, the humans in the room, and Wainfleet and Quaritch, stare at Y/N, waiting eagerly for her to continue.

“I have three temporary punishments for you, and two reprimands that will remain in place until you cease to exist in this organization. Punishment number one is the same as what First Lieutenant Álvarez suggested; your benefits on this base will be forfeited until I decide to give them back to you. This means that your authority on this organization will be reduced. I will not take away your rank, however your control on our air, land and sea troops is no more. Every decision and every order you want to give to our soldiers, our employees, and our personnel from now on will have to be approved by me until I am satisfied with your performance. Punishment number two and three are what First Sergeant McCaskill suggested. Both of these punishments are extra duties, but they differ from each other as much as they are related. The first one is undergoing additional knowledge and specialization training. It is very clear to me that you are used to how the RDA was operating in the time of your predecessor’s death. However, today that is not the case. The RDA no longer works on private administration but on full military administration and command. That means that you will no longer break the United States Marine Corps’ rules and regulations, like you have been doing for months on end. You will undergo additional training where you will relearn every single sentence on the USMC Manual and the USMC Handbook, because you have clearly forgotten everything. Adding on to that, you will identify and highlight every single rule and regulation from these documents that you have broken until now, and write a finalized report where you explain in detailed paragraphs how you broke them, why you broke them, what you should have done instead, and what the USMC says that the consequences for each one of them should be. This report will be handed to me when you are finished and based on my satisfaction, the second punishment will be lifted if I find that you have done a good job. The second extra duty and your third and final punishment, is that you will undergo additional physical training with Second Lieutenant Riley Jones, until I am satisfied with your performance. Lieutenant Jones is responsible for training our troops, therefore he will have no trouble refining and polishing your skills in combat. You almost lost your life engaging in close quarters combat with a middle aged Na’vi and I will not have that. So, these are your three punishments. They are temporary and can be lifted whenever I find it appropriate for them to be lifted. The better you excel in your extra duties, the sooner you will find yourself out of these punishments.”

“Now, on to your two reprimands. Unlike your punishments, these are permanent and will remain in place until you are retired or dead. The first one is what Captain Keller suggested; a formal order of censure. This will be put in your personnel file, detailing your actions and the consequences you caused at the Three Brothers, and will remain there permanently. It means that no matter if the authority on base changes, decisions regarding you will be affected by this event. Your second reprimand is what Master Gunnery Sergeant Davis suggested; an order of restriction. From now on you are restricted within areas that I approve, and if you step out of these areas it will be considered trespassing and you will be disciplined for it. You are banned from entering an area within a thirty mile radius from Jake Sully, whether that be by foot, by vehicle or by animal. To ensure that you will follow this order, I will have the science department design a tracking chip that will be implanted into your body. Your Lieutenant as well will undergo this procedure. All of my Recombinant operators have tracking chips in them, and that will include you two as well. It’s simply standard procedure that you have been excused from for way too long. With that being said, I’m sure that you have already been informed that you and your Lieutenant have been moved from General Ardmore’s primary command and have been put under mine. This means that from now on I have the same commanding authority over you as General Ardmore does, and you will be coming to me first instead of her. And with that all being concluded and hopefully understood, this meeting is now over and your punishments and reprimands take effect immediately. You start training first thing in the morning. Everyone is excused.”

The hall starts buzzing at the final sentence, personnel and people already standing up to head back to their respective tasks. The images and footage of the aftermath at the Three Brothers, projected from the Holofloor disappear as people start leaving and others entering through the large doors.

Quaritch stands there, frozen in place and unblinking. His brain is scrambling, trying to process the array of punishments that the Major General just laid upon him. Forfeited benefits, extra duties, a formal order of censure, and an order of restriction. She can’t be serious, can she? This is all just a big, bad joke, right? The color from Miles Quaritch’s face has been drained. Wainfleet stands there, eyes almost bulging out of his skull and mouth nearly agape. His ears are so far back that it’s cutting the blood flow of said cartilage, and his pupils move to stare at his Colonel. Quaritch’s jaw looks like it’s about to pop out of its sockets, his eyes glued onto Y/N as if trying to shoot lasers at her. Y/N in question stares back at him with eyebrows raised, challenging him to dare and say something against her words.

Ardmore who has now started walking towards the direction of the door to take her leave, walks past them without another word, followed by her assistant and her right hand man. As she passes, Y/N, Quaritch and Wainfleet nod at her in respect, straightening their postures. She stops briefly in her tracks, turning her head to look up at Y/N.

“You did well L/N.” Is all she says, before turning her head forward and continuing to where she was heading. Y/N nods once in respect, with a polite smile on her soft lips.

“Well, I wish you a nice evening and the next time I see you I expect better performance.” Y/N tells Quaritch after Ardmore leaves, still challenging him with her eyes to try and dare say something. Quaritch remains silent, having decided that the best course of action is to shut his mouth before he says something that he will regret deeply. He only nods once respectfully, fists clenched at his sides. Y/N grins, taking a sip of CO2 from her mask and giving him one last look from top to bottom before slowly, teasingly, turning around and starting to walk away as well, her long tail flicking slowly behind her as if to add on to his nerves.

“Ma’am.” Quaritch and Wainfleet farewell politely at the same time as she takes her leave, followed by her team who quickly are short on her tail. Quaritch’s jaw remains clenched, waiting for her to finally leave so he can get a grounding breath in.

The doors slide open for Y/N to leave, but just as she’s at the exit she stops. Turning around briefly, her amber eyes fall on Quaritch’s form yet again, looking at him over her shoulder.

“And enough with this tree-hugging savage crap. Go put on some goddamn clothes.”

With that, she’s gone. And so is her team, one by one until the only Recoms on the Holofloor are Miles and Lyle. Miles’ eyes are glued on the now closing doors, right where Y/N left from, and his lips press together. His glare is filled with anger, coursing through his veins and burning through his body.

You know what? He actually fuckin’ hates this damn woman.

Title explanation:

Fire for Effect – Military term indicating that the adjustment/ranging of indirect fire is satisfactory and the actual effecting rounds should be fired. In this case it holds its euphemism meaning for the execution of a plan. The plan in question is the punishments and reprimands that Y/N had been brewing inside of her, just waiting for the right moment to lay them down upon Quaritch, therefore “firing for effect” on him when she indeed does so.

End of chapter notes:

I hope ya’ll liked this chapter because I have read so many articles from the USMC handbook about rules and reprimands for this-

Additionally, I lied. The way Toddy got in Y/N’s office will be revealed in the next chapter lmao. ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

Also pookies, keep in mind that tiny detail of how Y/N’s scent affected both Miles and Lyle more than usual. And how Y/N lingered her stare on Miles for a bit too much. 👀

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

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khaosssss · 15 days ago

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Frostbite masterpost!!!

BTw yeah i did redesign her. bcuz i love her.

INFO:

Callsign: Frostbite

Pronouns: She/They

Role: Controller

Real Name: Sok Mean Sangha (Just for clarification Sok Mean is her full first name)

In-Game Description: Cambodian agent Frostbite brings a bright and positive attitude to the battlefield. With their ability to create blizzards and bend the cold to their will, they do their best to look out for their fellow agents and freeze enemies in place. When they fight, they do it with a smile.

Abilities:

C - Igloo

EQUIP to view the battlefield. FIRE to set the locations where Frostbite's clouds will settle. ALT FIRE to confirm, launching clouds that block vision in the chosen areas.

(Ehhh self explanatory theyre just smokes.)

Q - Permafrost

EQUIP a cryo orb. FIRE to throw the orb forward that detonates upon landing, causing it to expand into a lingering sheet of ice on the ground. When an enemy crosses, the ice will crack loudly, alerting players nearby and increasing vulnerability.

(Okay okay imagine Sage's slowing orb combined with Chamber's trademark. Its a thin, extremely fragile sheet of ice on the ground but when enemies walk on it alerts players where enemies are because of the sound.)

E - Icebreaker

Icebreaker - EQUIP a fragment of ice. FIRE to throw the fragment, which detonates upon landing and temporarily freezes all targets caught inside.

(Imagine Clove's molly but instead of decay it freezes targets, similar to Detaining a player but for a shorter period of time.)

X - Winter Wonderland

Winter Wonderland - EQUIP Frostbite's full power. FIRE to summon a blizzard. The blizzard slows and reduces the vision range of players inside of it.

(It's activated in a similar manner to Viper's ult. big ol' cloud. lotta wind and snow. it doesnt do damage but still i imagine it'd be annoying to deal with since you're constantly slowed.)

LORE:

Backstory:

Sok grew up in a poor family in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. She has a heavy interest in photography and wanted to pursue it as a professional career but couldn't. She never went to college either, working as a café barista instead until she was recruited by the Valorant Protocol. Frostbite is a very warm and kind person, super optimistic and energetic. Sometimes, she's sensitive and a little oblivious. She was born a Radiant, and her powers manifested at a young age. The reason for this is unknown, as the rest of her family aren't Radiants.

After joining the Valorant Protocol, and gaining her callsign, Frostbite took heavy pride in her new job. She feels extremely satisfied in being able to provide money for their family back home, not minding the dangers that came with being an agent.

A prominent part of Frostbite's life is, obviously, her powers. As useful as they are, they come at a price. Frostbite's body temperature is slightly lower than average, and if she's in a bad mood a lingering chill emits from her. The stronger her emotions the colder, which is a problem for someone as excitable as her. Not to mention that if she's somewhere like say.. Icebox, she's at a higher risk at getting hypothermia. (She's working on controlling it though. we love a girlie who tries)

Relationships:

Chamber: Frostbite gets along with generally everyone on account of their warm attitude. However, she is particularly close with Chamber (COUGH COUGH check out their platonic ship tag #SnowRifle) because of how openly she puts her trust in him. Chamber reciprocates this as he genuinely appreciates their friendship.

Sova: Frostbite is in a relationship with Sova (1. I can be cringe as a treat. 2. I'm gonna shamelessly plug again #SnowyOwl) She's very sweet and affectionate towards him, Sova doesn't mind this physical contact as he's used to the cold.

Trivia/Extra:

Although Frostbite is generally kind and polite, she loves to mess with Chamber and tease him. Like a lot.

(↑ he has gotten a cold from hanging out with her once.)

The camera that Frostbite owns is specifically a Nikon 1 J1.

Frostbite is not only interested in photography, but fashion and entomology. She owns a pet millipede named Critter and keeps it in a tank in her room.

Chronic pen/pencil chewer.

Biggest hobbies are journaling + scrapbooking.

Her voice claim is Yanfei from Genshin Impact

(these facts have nothing to do with her lore I just think they're neat to mention.)

#GOOD GOD this was lot #but also HOORAY LORE !!!!!!#and her abilities too!!!!!#i consulted my brother (hes been playing longer than me) on her abilities and he said they were fine 🎉🎉🎉🎉#Frostbite ❄️📸#Valorant oc #Valorant #oc masterpost #ocblr #artists on tumblr #my art #my oc

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moonlight-mornings · 17 days ago

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🚨 New Buddie fic 🚨

WORK TITLE: a graveyard in blue

IMPORTANT TAGS: Hypothermia, Hospitals, Hurt Eddie Diaz, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Flashbacks, Referenced S03E15: Eddie Begins, Referenced S04E14: Survivors

SUMMARY:

Buck watches the IV bag jiggle then sway back and forth on the hook. There's almost a calming effect to it, sickening that they're here in the first place but also grateful knowing that today could have ended a lot worse. Now that Eddie's no longer basking defenseless in choppy, freezing cold Pacific waters with a poor, violently-shaking child hanging around his neck. - After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. OR... here's 13k words of Eddie getting hypothermia and Buck (and the firefam) taking care of him.

9-1-1 / Buddie: (1)

#911 show #911 abc #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #buddie #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #hen wilson #howie han #chimney han #bobby nash #fanfic #ao3 #moonlight writes

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morbidology · 4 months ago

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The Nevado del Ruiz volcano, located in the Andes mountains of Colombia, had been dormant for over 150 years. On November 13, 1985, it erupted violently, sending a massive avalanche of mud, ash, and debris, known as a lahar, down its slopes. The lahar engulfed the town of Armero, where 14-year-old Omayra Sánchez and her family lived, burying it under several meters of debris. The eruption killed approximately 23,000 people, making it one of the deadliest volcanic disasters in history.

Omayra was trapped in the rubble of her home, pinned down by debris with her legs submerged in water and concrete. Rescuers quickly reached her but were unable to free her due to the precarious situation and lack of proper equipment. Over the course of 60 hours, Omayra remained trapped, conscious, and remarkably calm despite the severe pain and distress she was enduring. She conversed with the rescuers and journalists who surrounded her.

As the hours passed, it became evident that freeing Omayra would be nearly impossible without amputation, which was not feasible in the conditions they were facing. Tragically, as her situation worsened, she succumbed to gangrene and hypothermia. Omayra died on November 16, 1985, after an agonizing and protracted ordeal.

Omayra's harrowing final moments were captured by photographer Frank Fournier, whose haunting image of her face—eyes wide open, staring into the camera—became an iconic representation of the disaster. The photograph, which won the World Press Photo of the Year in 1986, sparked global outrage and brought attention to the disaster, highlighting the inadequacies in the Colombian government's response and the lack of preparedness for such a catastrophe.

While some criticized the decision to publish such a graphic image, arguing that it exploited Omayra's suffering, others believed it was necessary to show the true horror of the situation and to galvanize international support for disaster relief efforts.

#Omayra Sánchez #volcano #disaster #sad #photography

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hcdragonwrites · 2 years ago

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Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #I DID ANOTHER ONE #thank you little anon for mentioning a cold snuggle scenario #I love when there’s cuddles even if one party doesn’t know or remember and the other is both ecstatic and pissed the fuck off about it #I Hope i wrote them well #the formatting took me longer then I thought #for jttw monkeybuisness #Sophie #Sophie and Wukong #sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong #jttw reader #jttw fanfic #I gave Sophie an orange hoodie because she already has a ‘magical’ peach kawaii cup.#make all her things fruit related #just writing the scene where Wukong walks back into the tent and has to pause because Sophie had turned into an orange made me laugh #I Hope i got your boy down Kiri!#thank you again for letting me write for you #this was a welcome break from my 30 page spree #I listened to two songs - the first part was #with Tourner Dans Le Vide #the second part where they are in the tent was with Of Monsters and Men ‘Love’#it helps to have a song hook you into writing because then you can follow the feeling of it and stay focused #I mean- songs are like a tempo to keep pace with.#sun wukong #jttw au #I did look up all the snow born illnesses to be a bit accurate.#also that falling asleep bit in the snow ? yeah that almost happened to me as a kid. it only took ten minutes - be wary of snow and cold #hcfanfics

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