#integral to her character. its who she IS. but its still on the edge)

[arsenicflame]

you know youre a little too deep in the brainrot when "would it be fucked up to be straight in the society of Heven" is a genuine thought you have had and seriously debated with yourself

[nilsavatar]

DAY 31 - A/B/O

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST, SMUT in the end, love bites, rubbing, sexual tension, olfactophilia (they both turn on by smelling arousal/pheromones), P in V, manhandling, oral (f receiving), face fucking, fingering, praising, cursing, pet name (ma’uniltı`ranyu - my dreamwalker), rough, knotting, dirty talk, overstimulation, edging, strangers to lovers, first time (first heat, loss of avatar body virginity), begging, difference in power (alpha-omega dynamics), soft-dom Neteyam (mention of marking, possessive behavior but he’s kind and caring), Jamie Flatters cameo. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Living in the body of an avatar is not as simple as one might think.

Little note: OMG! You have no idea how happy I am to have finally finished this fic. It has been on hiatus for so many months that I thought I would never publish it. The more time passed, the more the pressure to write something worth the long wait increased. I rewrote it so many times, but it never seemed good enough, and the editing was exhausting. I hope with all my heart not to disappoint your expectations. Please be forgiving: this is my first Omegaverse. Thank you🥰

If you would like to be tagged in future fics, please write it in the comments. I will be happy to add you all💕

Word Count: 7,6k

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Aubree’s knowledge as a xenobiologist fell short in front of the challenges of living as a dreamwalker among the Na’vi.

The presence of a secondary sex was fascinating, fictional in the eyes of a human being, accustomed to a binary system. But on Pandora, things were way different. The natives displayed their primary sex (male or female) from birth, and their roles in the clan were influenced by signs that emerged during puberty. Alphas, predominantly men, possessed a massive physiognomy. Tall, muscular, strong-willed, controlled in character, yet predisposed to irascibility. Betas were the largest group, with an equal proportion of females and males, and the most human-like. Omegas, mostly women, were known for their petite and delicate build, along with a calming demeanor.

When she arrived on Pandora, she had no particular expectations of what her avatar’s designation would be. Still, no one would ever have considered a potential alpha looking at her features. Aubree was a spitfire who was unlikely to be pushed around and knew her stuff in professional terms. Someone who won’t let you get away with nothing. However, her dainty physique and conflict-avoiding tendency were clear indications she would be an omega (or beta at best). The moment she connected with the hybrid, clarity rained down on her like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her own body erupted in a chorus of sensations, each one clamoring for attention. It was as if every nerve ending had awoken from a deep sleep, demanding to be felt. The omega within seemed to mold itself to her presence, wrapping around her with the natural warmth of a long-lost sibling's affection. Its voice, like a lullaby, soothed tenderly in her ears, caressed her senses, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia. It had waited for her for a lifetime, patiently biding, though she felt as if it had always been there; their destinies entwined for eternity. The connection felt familiar as if it had always been an integral part of her existence, hidden deep within her soul, longing to be seen. A joyous reunion with her inner essence, theirs, rather than a discovery of something new about herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the blinding white light of the hospital room assaulted her vision, her first instinct was to cry. Overwhelmed by the pent-up emotions that had been building within her.

Yet another factor played a role — a negative note. The recognition wasn’t exclusive to her; everyone around her, from the very moment she had awoken as an avatar, had sensed, smelled what she was. And this made it obvious why omegas often experienced such a designation as a condemnation.

Alphas’ attentions may be... excessive.

From a human perspective, Na’vi were naturally intrusive. The concept of personal space between the two species was totally at odds; they were prone to be close, to touch each other, to smell each other. A fundamental part of their socialization techniques. Aubree could have learned to tolerate it as a cultural trait if her alpha-designated colleagues didn’t engage in the same behaviors. They couldn’t help themselves.

“It’s the pheromones,” said matter-of-fact Max, not having any other scientific explanation. Studies on the subject were stalled. Without a vomeronasal organ connected to the brain, or terrestrial examples to refer to, they couldn’t describe the phenomenon. The only thing palpable to both of them, equally inexplicable, was that her wake was inviting. Alphas were almost reduced to a primal state around her. “You should talk to the Tsahìk about this,” Aubree mentally berated herself for not thinking of it sooner. Who better than the Tsahìk, the spiritual leader of the clan and the highest authority among healers, to provide her with the answers she sought? And maybe even help in dealing with the symptoms.

*

The healers’ tent wasn’t large. Quite the opposite, it was indeed small. The room appeared even tinier with the disorganized heap of things stacked on top of each other in a jumbled mess, creating the feeling it could burst at any time. An imminent threat to be fair. However, under scrutiny, one could discern an order in the distribution of the items. To her right, tools of various types and sizes covered the entire wall. To the left, on shelves arranged by color, were terracotta jars filled with powders and ointments. Some were large, others tiny; some had regular shapes, others were bizarre, tongued, or angular. Engraved on the bottom of each were symbols. An early form of writing, considering the People were still oral.

A little further down, the counter ran around the entire interior of the room to the nearest post of mattresses where sicks could rest. Behind the cupboard was the massiest shelf of all. Ampoules, mirrors, rolls of cloth, baskets of bandages, needles, and flowers stuffed somehow. That place was a unique contradiction, ranging from manic order to disturbing chaos. Despite the dimness and the oppressive atmosphere, the tent also emitted a serene, welcoming feeling, akin to the mystical aura of a shaman’s lair.

But one not was out of place. Post-its here and there written in… English? What were post-its doing in the Tsahìk tent? They were so out of context.

“I see the human touch doesn’t go unnoticed.” Aubree gasped, more at the dull sound of something heavy being moved across the counter than the surprise itself. A woman emerged from the myriad of baskets scattered across the floor, placed one on the wooden shelf, and emptied its contents. Her hair, just above her chin, was straight but messy. The tswin, displayed in front of her chest, obscured the huge needle that hung from her slender neck. At every movement, the beads of the intricate shawl that covered her shoulders and breasts jingled, as lively as a child’s laughter. A streaked cerulean complexion set off lemon-yellow irises fixed upon her like those of a cat.

How old was she? Her face appeared youthful, almost adolescent, yet her eyes betrayed wisdom and worldliness far beyond her years.

“You must be Aubree. I was waiting for you to show up.” It seemed as if the healer’s pupils flickered at the sound of her name. The avatar stepped forward. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite, Tsahìk of the Omatikaya.” Acting on impulse, she extended her hand, but when the young woman didn’t shake it, she hastily corrected the gesture into the typical bow of greeting and reverence. She looked amused.

“No need for formality here. We are the same age and are both researchers. We have more in common than you might think.” A smirk curved her plump lips as she put her fists on her sides. “To what do I owe the glee of your visit? I suppose you need to ask me something.” Her sudden remark made her jolt. The Na’vi woman stopped arranging the shelves and turned to look at her with anticipation. “Well?” “I wouldn’t know where to even start. It’s something I don’t fully understand,” she confessed. “Is it related to your dreamwalker body?” She nodded. “But humans cannot help you.” It wasn’t a question, but the scientist nodded anyway. Kiri drew a smile and disappeared behind a curtain that separated the room from the next one — a laboratory. After several minutes, she reappeared with a small box full of tea filters. “Have one in the morning and another in the evening. It’s a suppressant; it will quell your pheromones.”

Aubree blushed furiously. How…?

“I might be just a beta, but your wake is so strong that it knocked me out for a sec. I dare not imagine the effect you have on alphas.” “Not pleasant.” “Much too pleasant, you mean,” she chuckled. “Be careful not to abuse the drug. You wouldn’t want to find out about the side effects. And remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during estrus.”

Estrus.

The idea hadn’t crossed her mind at all when she accepted her Ph.D. and joined the AVTR Program. She was so thrilled to pursue her dream she would have accepted any job proposal. And who was she to deny she had always felt a fascination about natives? Na’vi estrus cycle was highly articulated and varied by secondary sex designation. Beta females, like humans, had a menstrual cycle and were potentially always fertile, exhibiting no visual, behavioral, or olfactory signals announcing impending ovulation.

Quite a different story for omegas and alphas.

The former went into heat three times a year, about four months between cycles, and could last up to seven agonizing days in the absence of a partner to care for them. This was their peak fertility period. The latter rutted once a year, and the length of the inter-anestrus was unpredictable. In mated pairs wasn’t uncommon for one’s heat to trigger the other’s.

“What should I do when it happens?” “Well, the most natural advice would be to spend it with a playmate, preferably an alpha, as theirs are the only pheromones that have a calming effect on omegas. There is no risk of conception for those who are not mated, so as long as your kuru’s are not entwined, let go.” “Mm, alternatives?” “Lock yourself in a shelter until it ends, away from everyone. But that is the least desirable option. It’s terribly painful to face heat alone.” “I could stay disconnected as long as my avatar is in this state.” “Risking dying of dehydration and starvation in the meantime? Or worse, that some alpha will have fun at your expense?” Kiri hastened to say, noticing the scientist’s horrified expression. “Yes, it has happened, and I assure you that the physical memory of the trauma remains, even if consciousness was not present.” “But I’ll still have to log out myself. My human body needs care, too.” “All the more reason you should find someone to look after you, and quickly. Your first heat is approaching.”

As if that were a small thing.

“My intuition tells me you’ll be fine. Now go. And drink your infusion.” She was about to leave the tent when one last question left Aubree’s lips: “How will I know I’m in heat?” “Oh, trust me, you’ll know.”

She was so absorbed in Kiri’s words that she didn’t even notice the hungry glances she was catalyzing. Especially that of a distinguished man wearing a feathered cloak. The young Olo’eyktan followed her figure as she made her way back to the human outpost until she was swallowed up by the thick undergrowth.

“She doesn’t have a mate if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice to his left exclaimed. As he turned, he came face to face with the Tsahìk, whose penetrating stare revealed a cunning expression that hinted at a deeper understanding. “I don’t see why this indiscretion of yours should interest me.” “Mm, I don’t know. Seems like she caught your interest.” “Hard to ignore with the trail she carries.” A corner of Kiri’s mouth twitched: Neteyam had just been trapped in the net. “She’s not the first omega with such a scent passing under your nose, but you’ve barely noticed the others.” The young man’s back straightened. “What's your point?” “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

Neteyam’s gaze was again lost in scanning the spot where the avatar had vanished, lost in a thousand thoughts. Unaware of the bright, wide smile that now graced his sister’s beautiful face. The satisfied smirk of one who sees three moves ahead.

*

Upon entering the research division’s canteen, some may have felt as if they stepped into Goldilocks’ fairy tale. Everything in there was big, big or small, small, except for the stove and tables, which were set at an intermediate height so that both avatars and pilots could use them.

Aubree stared at the teapot brewing the concoction Kiri had given her; her nose stung by the pungent yet fresh smell of nettle wafting from the spout. Carefully, she poured the liquid into a cup without straining — Ingest the leaves — and drank it. Immediately, her throat burned and a tremendous itch seemed to want to tear it open.

Shit, even worse than anticipated.

She took a seat on the plush sofa, its velvety fabric enveloping her frame. As she pressed play on the remote, the screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow on the dimply lit room. Her eyes followed the vivid images of a movie for distraction, but her mind was eaten up by the searing prickle that intensified with each passing moment. The discomfort became all-consuming, shielding her from the outside world, as if the itchy sensations had woven a barrier around her, isolating the woman in her own thoughts. She was oblivious to her colleague’s presence until he sank into the cushions beside her. His arm hung weakly on the backrest, almost brushing against her shoulder. But it was his sudden loud snort that jolted her back to reality. Aubree jumped as she turned to her right and found Jamie. His left knee wedged into his opposite ankle, his foot dangling in her direction. His head rested an inch from the wall, eyes half-closed in a drowsy state.

“You look tired.”

The guy let out a low, rumbling laugh in his typical mumble before replying that he felt like a bulldozer had run over him. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, evident in the strain it put on his distinct British accent. She surreptitiously watched him, taking in the details of his avatar that closely resembled the human it was created from. His gaze remained the same, although his blue irises had now turned a striking shade of yellow. His lips and teeth mirrored the original, except for the canines. When he smiled full-mouthed, two dimples appeared on his cheeks, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, as if they were smiling, too. His slightly protruding incisors gave his face a boyish charm, contrasting with his strong, masculine features. He radiated a sense of gentleness.

That last remark had the same effect as lightning illuminating the night. They were conversing freely, as they would have if they were humans.

An alpha and an omega.

Aubree had gotten into the habit of avoiding alphas as much as possible when she was in this body; head down, shy look, walk fast. Never within nose reach. But Jamie did not lose his cool in her presence. He didn’t sniff the air greedily. His gaze didn’t become insistent as it passed over her face. He didn’t moisten his lips endlessly or clench his jaw and fists as if to keep himself from jumping on her. Nor did hold his breath and make excuses, running for his life as he was wont to do.

The suppressor was working!

The success of the next days was enough for the unknown estrus to recede into the background, in the darkest and most hidden place in her head. Who could blame her? Her life was finally back to normal. After all, her avatar's first heat couldn't have been so terrible, could it? Just stick to this simple recipe and everything will be fine, repeated as a mantra.

Remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during the heat.

Time passed, and days turned into weeks. The taste of the medicine became more tolerable as her throat grew accustomed to its piquant flavor. Even if it wasn’t, the end justified the means. Aubree took the doses with obsessive precision, but after a few months, she noticed the effects wearing off, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it began.  The first warning came in the form of mild dizziness when she logged in, accompanied by a lingering feeling of fever. Then, her appetite waned, alternating with sudden bouts of hunger. Finally, twinges settled in her iliac fossae. She chalked it as harmless PMS, nothing she hadn’t already experienced. Most importantly, not a cause for alarm regarding her host’s performance or health; the hybrid was fully functional.

Wait a minute. Premenstrual syndrome?

As she walked down the hallway leading to the medical area, her mind wandered back to her last period. Her forefinger swiftly navigated the tablet, selecting the calendar app she used to track her menstrual cycle. She was still a long way from the start of the next one, a full two weeks, right in the middle of her fertility window. Maybe I’m ovulating. The symptoms she had been going through lately aligned with that assumption. Breast sensitivity, a slight increase in discharge, heightened lubrication, and libido.

This would have been enough to reassure her, if not for the steady, soft beeping coming from the hospital room, serving as a haunting reminder. Her stare roamed beyond the glass, taking in the circle of Link Units surrounding a pair of desks in the center, a total of eight. It settled on the last station on the far left. Number 3. Her lucky number. Well, not so lucky, given how things were going. The monitor next to it showed the status of the machine, the vitals of the subject inside, the neural activity of the two interconnected brains. The real-time image of the pilot's unconscious face.

Aubree’s face.

And so she realized the symptoms were none other than the avatar's. Ovulation, PMS, cravings were all alarm bells that the heat was near. But who gave her the coup de grâce was Jamie himself.

The guy was running towards her, calling out and weaving, eager for something he was about to share if he didn’t put the brakes on his run. With his palm up to cover his mouth and nose, he said, “Woah Bree... You stink.” His pupils showed a hint of dilation. “It’s time, isn’t it? The suppressant isn’t working anymore.” “Guess so.” “Um, I don’t wanna freak you out or anything, but...” He scratched nervously at the back of his head, no longer holding her gaze. “... if you ever need help dealing with… that. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I’d prefer a friend taking care of me over some random dude. So...” “Thanks, Jamie, for the offer. I know it’s from a genuine interest, and that you’re not trying to take advantage of the situation. I appreciate it, but maybe the Tsahìk can help me out while I’m in the shelter.” “It could last for days.” “I still haven’t come to terms that intercourses are the only way. She's possibly making it sound worse than it actually is.” “Possibly not. Thinking you’ll be locked up somewhere suffering...” "I'll log out for the night," Aubree giggled. “Besides, it would be kinda weird, don’t you think? We work together.” Now he couldn’t help but laugh. “I do science. Stuff like that won't faze me. You better hurry, based on the scent you're giving off, you could be in heat any minute. If you change your mind...” With a last playful wink, Jamie left.

Free to return to her concerns, Aubree’s smile turned into a taut line. She had to find Kiri. Quickly.

*

As she battled the relentless fever, the seemingly endless and overwhelming path to Hometree stretched out before her. Every step was a struggle, her trembling hands clutching onto the rough tree trunks for support. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, her eyes squinting against the blinding rays of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. The intense heat made her perspire profusely, the dampness seeping through her clothes, clinging to her body like a second skin. She wished she could strip off her garments; the discomfort unbearable. The thought of dying of shame seemed trivial compared to the fire that consumed her from within, leaving her skin burning and blistering. 

Sounds of prolemuris filled the air, their calls echoing through the dense canopy. The heavy, rich, damp bouquet of lush vegetation mingled with the freshness of rain and whiffs of her scent, alerting a hunter nearby to her presence. His senses heightened. With narrowed eyes, he tasted the air, as if savoring a fine wine. The particles rose into his nostrils, painting a vivid image of Aubree in his mind. Her sweet face, adorned with sparkling eyes, and sinuous curves stood out against the dry features of the People. 

As he continued to track her trail, his pupils dilated, his senses enticed by the lingering aroma. Every step he took, he could feel the dampness of the forest floor beneath his feet, the rough texture of the leaves brushing against his fingertips. The air was alive with anticipation, as if holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. But as quickly as the scent had captivated him, the hunter’s instincts kicked in. He realized that if he could smell her, others could too. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the rainforest. With a determined resolve, he pressed on, his senses alert, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

He left his prey to almost run the distance that separated him from the woman. His omega. The moments it took him to reach her seemed like hours when they were a handful of minutes at most. He found her at the foot of a plant, curled up in a ball, her cheeks stained with tears as she whispered incomprehensible words under her breath. The man staggered, his senses assaulted by the unmistakable pungent smell of her heat stench. A wake so overpowering that left him breathless and struck, unlike anything he had ever smelled before. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched to the breaking point, he bravely advanced towards her, finally falling to his knees. If only he had resisted his natural urges. He could not allow himself to give in. Not him.

With a gentle touch, he cradled her jaw in his palm and soothed her with slow, reassuring strokes along her side, repeating, “It’s alright, it’s alright. You’re safe now. You're not alone; I'm here for you. You’re going to be okay.”  Her cry-streaked face trembled as she whispered, “Please... I can’t take it any longer,” cheeks dampened by an endless stream of tears. “Just take care of it.” He cursed in frustration, powerless that he couldn’t even bring her to his sister. Kiri was assisting a primipara in childbirth. “Please!”  Before taking her in his arms and laying her gently against his chest, the Na’vi sighed, his voice filled with resignation, “Yes, whatever you need.”

Walking backward towards the nearest shelter, he kept his gaze fixed on the path, his piercing eyes fully focused on his surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger. The very direction he had originally come from. Not that anyone could have stood up to him under those circumstances. Regardless of whether he had reached the woman first, no one would have been foolish enough to challenge the clan’s top warrior. 

Groaning, Aubree nuzzled against him, finding solace in the familiar and calming scent that emanated from his skin. Like lowered into a light, peaceful bubble, his soothing alpha pheromones everywhere. An alpha she couldn’t recognize, her vision too blurry, but to whom the omega inside her was singing a serenade. In this foggy confusion, she could only hear the beating of his heart against her ear and the oh-so-big, firm hands holding her up. And though she could not see him, starry eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, looking tenderly at her. 

Her fantasy drifted away, picturing him holding her close, his lips exploring every inch of her body, and their lovemaking leaving her in a state of euphoric surrender. A shiver ran down her spine and made her throbbing quicken at the mere thought of being touched where the tremendous burn concentrated the most. The brush of his lips on her forehead and the tip of her nose made her believe, if only for an instant, that reality had merged with her imagination. His voice lingered in the air, like a gentle gust against her mouth, hinting that they were just moments away from their destination.

Where, she would have inquired, but there wasn’t much room for consistency in her head right now, her perceptions too chaotic to form a coherent question. She would have gone to the ends of the Universe, as long as it meant she could be near him.

Next to her, on her, inside her. Her heart raced with anticipation.

As the hunter laid her down on the mattress and went to fetch water, it was no surprise that her expression crinkled, her eyelids opened slightly, and a low moan eluded her parched lips.

“You need to drink,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern, as he offered out a small bowl. The liquid inside shimmered, reflecting the soft glow of the room. However, she shook her head, causing the contents to spill onto the floor, the sound of the liquid splashing echoing through the silence. A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but it quickly melted away, replaced by a deep-seated worry as he watched her. Her arms opened towards him, inviting him into her embrace. He had never encountered such desperation and helplessness in an omega before. 

Calmly, he laid down beside her, pulling her gently towards him. As he hugged her, she could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. But it wasn’t enough. Aubree craved more, she needed more. And so he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and tender, like a delicate caress. When she bit into them, the taste exploded on her tongue, a blend of sweet honey and warm sunshine. The flavors danced and mingled, delighting her senses. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of sparks and stars illuminating her mind. His tongue explored her mouth with a gentle touch, mirroring the soothing sensation of his hands as they massaged her tense shoulders.

She felt perfect, cocooned in the strength of his embrace. The soft glow of candlelight danced across their entwined bodies, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. The warmth of his arms, his faint scent mingled with her own, enveloped her, creating a sweet, comforting haven from the outside world. Yet, an intoxicating sensation filled the air as she nestled against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A soothing melody that resonated deep within her. Every touch, every caress, sent waves of bliss coursing through her body. In this moment, she found solace and contentment, knowing that she had found her rightful place - in his loving arms.

She was exactly where she belonged, complete and fulfilled.

When he let go, she was panting, her lungs desperate for oxygen, her heart pounding in her chest. All she could see were his eyes, lost in darkness. Delighting in her exquisite taste, surpassing his wildest dreams, he pressed his lips against her face and kissed her deeply. The overwhelming passion seemed to consume her, suffocating her with its intensity. He gently moved away, giving her a chance to catch her breath, and as he did, he positioned himself on top of her, taking off the thin t-shirt she had on.

As much as he longed to press his skin against the avatar's, the Na’vi couldn’t help but be drawn to her curvaceous physique, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his own kind. He took his sweet time to admire her; the naked breasts, the rounder hips, he could not resist stroking them with his fingertips. Aubree’s scent brainwashed him, a slave to the instinct to take her where she was, but in the back of his mind, there was still enough clarity to realize that he was truly amazed by the wonder of the woman before him. He liked her. He really liked her. He had liked her from the first moment he had noticed her, her trail so enchanting that it could not be ignored.

Once again, he yearned to taste her, to hold her. He placed his lips upon every reachable inch, leaving his mark with his intoxicating scent. He lavished attention on her face, caressed her eyes, nibbled on her ears, traced her collarbones, and claimed her neck, burying his nose in her skin, his tongue tenderly exploring the hidden depths behind her shoulder. It was a remarkably sensitive spot, causing her to surrender to pleasure, her corneas tilting backward in ecstasy. The surge of pheromones transformed into a primal growl, resonating deep within her core; uncontrollable shivers coursed through her body. He pressed harder against her hips, releasing a second wave that intensified their connection.

Aubree wrapped her limbs around him, squeezing him in a fervent embrace. The sound of their mingling breaths filled the air as their lips met once more, a symphony of desire. Overwhelmed by the sensation of his body against hers, she reveled in the way he effortlessly fit into the curves of her form. Each kiss and caress he bestowed upon her skin brought a cascade of relief that engulfed her senses.

Through the graceful dance of their bodies, she felt the weight of his longing against her. Every movement spoke volumes of his desire to please her, to alleviate her anguish. As his lips explored her skin, a low, guttural moan escaped her throat, resonating with a mixture of gratification and pain. In the air, a spice of raw passion intertwined with a hint of vulnerability. In his touch, she could sense the depth of his caring, his soulful dominance.

She realized how similar they were: two people subjected to their nature.

Equally desperate, her lungs aching, she reached a trembling hand towards his tail, fingers brushing against the coarse texture of the loincloth. The tightly cinched knot resisted her efforts, causing each tug to reverberate with a faint sound of strained fabric. The hunter, his muscles trembling with anticipation, propped himself up slightly, his breaths mingling with hers in the dimly lit room.

Time slowed to a torturous crawl as he painstakingly unraveled the knot, his fingers working with meticulous precision. The sensation of the fiber slipping through his grasp sent shivers down his spine, a mix of alleviation and frustration intertwining in his chest. The weight of the tewng around his ankles became a physical reminder of the barriers they both longed to shed. Almost on the verge of tears, he yearned for liberation from this confining cloth, craving the proximity and warmth they shared. With a swift motion, he freed himself from the bindings, the garment rustling quietly as it fell to the ground. In an instant, he pulled her back into his embrace, his arms blanketing her with a renewed fervor.

As their bodies tangled, a rush of emotions flooded their senses — the scent of their shared desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of sweat. The touch of their skin, now unencumbered, ignited a fire that burned with an intensity they could no longer deny.

The scientist loved every moment; his piercing, smoldering gaze fixated on her, lolling in every tender touch, every flattering word, but she reached her limit, and he could sense it. Suddenly, the biting cold dusk shrouded her exposed form. Her garments were violently ripped away, leaving her vulnerable. The icy sensation lasted only a fraction of a second, though, for that was all the time it took for the stranger to plunge into her doused core. His intricate braids tickled against the satin-like skin of her inner thigh. The balmy breeze of his breath danced upon her as she rolled up her sticky legs around his head. “No need for that,” she giggled, her voice trembling. The sharp edges of his canines teased her, causing a playful tingle to spread across her lips. His smile showing both desire and mischief.

With exasperating slowness, he inhaled in a long sniff, his expounded pupils pulsating as they reopened. He dove in to guzzle the juicy nectar at its source, emitting a hoarse moan with the initial sip. She gasped, feeling the vibration against her quivering lips, as a blissful wave rippled through her soul, intensifying her arousal. Gripping her silky hair, he nestled his face, exploring every crevice, nuzzling her thoroughly. His insatiable tongue and eager lips caressed the velvety walls of her intimate entrance, skillfully teasing the supple skin and delicate clitoris. His left hand, loving and firm, cupped her slender ankle, his touch sending shivers up her bone. Slowly, he trailed his hand up her smooth thigh, his fingertips tracing every contour, igniting a fiery anticipation within her. With a whispered whoop, he sank his index into her swollen, drenched core, the wetness coating his digit. There was no resistance, only an overwhelming urge for more. In sync with her ragged sighs, he added a second finger. The sound of their combined panting saturated the air as her grip tightened around his relentless, plunging fingers.

At this point, Aubree was trembling with need as every fiber within her begged to be fucked. The alpha’s dominant pheromones beguiled her, while his languid, deliberate movements captivated her gaze. His hungry eyes, dark and all-consuming held her spellbound by the way he devoured her. The crushed combination of his present and skill left her subdued, infatuated even. As her back arched in pleasure, a primordial scream tore through her open windpipe. Excitement was so intense, a fiery mixture of ecstasy and release so gratifying and flawless,  that her omega felt a devastating love than just heat. In that instant, he hit her G-spot with caustic precision one final time, causing her to pour forth in a torrential climax. A violent, passionate eruption met by the man’s eager mouth, which drank her essence like a thirsty beast.

However, something unexpected happened as the orgasm subsided. Aubree burst into tears.

Copious tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks; wet, hot streaks that burned almost as scorching as the new, unbearable fire festering in her belly. Sobs rang through the shelter as he called her back, holding her tightly in his protective embrace, now curled against his chest seeking consolation. “Shushu... ‘Upe kemwiä? (What is it?).” He murmured, his lips resting on her temples as he futilely wiped away her tear-strained cheekbones. “It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t go away.” She cried, her nails scratching his chest, desperately trying to hold on to something. Her nose rubbed against his rib cage, then his jaw to impregnate him with her perfume, his heart pounding wildly.

In a frenzy of kisses and bites and touches, he let her vent, his digits grazing along her spine, confused by the speed with which the urge had reassembled in her. The Na’vi was confused by the speed with which the itch had reassembled within her. Normally it would take a few hours after such a powerful first orgasm. Time to rest, eat, drink. Aubree badly needed hydration to combat the incessant fever that plagued her and the fluids she was losing.

“Take a moment to rest. You need to drink.” “Screw the water, I want you,” she confessed, her misty eyes fixated on him. They shimmered with unstoppable tears and thirst. Her face flushed with a violent purple. It was the most powerful heat the man had ever witnessed, and he wondered what had triggered it. That it was her first heat? Had the suppressors made her high? It was because of him? The alpha in him reprimanded him with the natural mildness of primal appetites. Just take her, she’s pleading for it. But he shook his head. It wasn’t him. He was better than that. He had been raised to care for others, not to use them. Alphas protect, that was what gave them purpose; he would do anything to protect his mate, even from herself.

Even though she wasn’t technically his mate.

Despite not being bonded in the traditional sense, their connection was undeniable. Aubree, unbeknownst to her, held a special place in his heart from the very moment they met. It was clear from the start that this outcome was unavoidable. Calling upon anything that could keep him sane, he held some sort of energy drink under her nose. “Näk (drink).” The omega sounded at this command. It was as if by speaking in his native language, he was able to assert himself a thousand times more forcefully, even if she didn't get his words. The omega knew for both of them. “Can you do this for me? Drink this and I'll give you everything you want.” She had never heard anything more beautiful. She swelled the entire contents in one gulp, her head dizzy from the sudden amount of sugar. She fell back between the pillows with a quickening pulse, even if he was stroking her hair comfortably. The fall brought a fresh whiff of her needy wake, filling the entire hut as well as his nostrils. Instinctively, the hunter took a deep breath. A breath, that stopped halfway as his brain registered the source of the trail between the woman’s legs. A shimmering fountain that caused him to let out a guttural roar of defeat. He was so weak to her.

As he settled between her groin, the tip of his erection brushed against the warrior’s waistband, still clinging to his torso. The only garment Aubree had allowed him to keep.  The sight of him, breathtakingly elegant and athletic, thanks to Eywa’s mercy, overshadowed the idea of how many other omegas had the privilege of having him inside them before her. But now he was all hers. That thought alone ignited a fresh wave of excitement to blossom. He pressed his full weight onto her, and she wasted no time running her hands over his taut, strong, muscular back. Every contour, every sinew, was exquisitely formed and enticing under her touch. The closeness they shared, their bodies pressed against each other, sent a thrill through her. He smelled so damn good, hard and bothered for her. The way he responded to her advances only heightened her desire, flaring up a foreign heat in her veins, surpassing even her own natural instincts.

His shaft, long and thick, glided inside her, stealing her a gasp as he filled her in one fluid motion. Pleasure trembled through her, evident in her labored breathing and tightened walls. The barriers of her depths easily acclimated to his divine cock, satisfying even her smallest wishes. It was almost embarrassing to realize how every aspect of him was designed to please her — the texture of his body, the touch of his skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of his voice, his tantalizing scent.

She couldn’t help it and was somehow ashamed of her weakness. Her intimacy clenched at some point, in response to the blows he gave her, the few but deep sounds he made. So securely he gasped at the faint pain before rushing to her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Demanding, needy. He bit and pulled at her lip, pushing his tongue to lick the arch of hers, to suck her teeth, making her vibrate around him.  Had she mentioned that his lips were amazing? Yes, she had, but who cared? She would have repeated over and over again how unworldly they melded with hers in such a sublime way that they would have stunned her if she weren’t for the crazy pheromones already. Aubree didn’t even know who this man was. Her senses tangled, preventing her from recognizing his face or voice, despite a nagging suspicion of familiarity. Her mind sporadically focused before touch or smell overpowered it. Now taste. His lips felt like fresh fruit, sweet and full-bodied. She would have spent hours luxuriating in them, but the impression she was about to burst grew and grew, driving and unbearable.

She moaned uncontrollably as the Na’vi drew back his hips until only the tip rested against her core to thrust again before effortlessly thrusting again. Each new point of contact stung inside her. The avatar felt an insatiable desire to take all of him, to never let go. Her heart filled with euphoria — little bites, caresses, kisses ran through her body, which now smelled like his. She tugged at his hair as he made his way back to her mouth, her wet thighs encircling his waist, her heels nestled in the dimples of Venus. Clinging to him as if the contact of his epidermis, his chest, his arms weren’t enough. She craved more. Their hearts pounded in unison, like furious galloping horses, their passion untamed. “Tsahey, sı`ltsan’efu (oh hell, feels good),” he grunted, his timbre low and gravelly. Kind of a dirty move whispering praise in Na’vi into her ear. His words danced to the tips of her toes from the dull joy it gave her to feel appreciated, as the sound of their frames colliding echoed in the hut, a symphony of lust and devotion. Her cries grew shrill, a melodic chorus that fueled his every thrust. He was so hot, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, as he moved faster, the friction intensified, sending sparks shooting through all of her body. Aubree clasped her legs around his waist, hankering for everything he offered. His grip on her shoulders steadied, his fingers digging into her skin. The force of his thrusts increased, each one hitting her with a mix of pleasure and pain. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

The man rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingled; his lukewarm exhales covering her face and his ears full with her gasps. The smell of their passion hung heavy in the small space, a heady mixture of steam and need. He watched her in both ecstasy and disbelief. The sight of such intensity in his gaze overpowered her, but she clung to it, relishing every moment when his dick struck a sensitive bundle of nerves.

As she felt his knot dwell, alpha pheromones crept into her subconscious, drowning her omega in the musky aroma of dominance and submission, an exhilarating fog that pushed her further into surrender. The place seemed to darken as her soul naturally responded to him; her pulse hastening with trepidation. Each frantic gasps for oxygen a struggle against the sweeping emotions. She had no choice but to capitulate, to cry out for him. It felt as if her very DNA had been written to covet him, to lock him inside, but the native held her back, prolonging the exquisite torture.

“That’s not a good idea. It’s your first time.”

A new growl escaped her windpipe, vibrating hungry rage. A rumble that allowed no response, a warning that made him bend his ears back and sink to the point of no return. His stare fixed on her with a longing that knew no bounds. Now only orgasm could free him from her clutches. His expression seemed pained, a flicker of hesitation, but it lasted only a second before the most animalistic and savage sounds she had ever heard rose from the back of his throat. The researcher bit his neck to stifle a moan louder than the others, desperate to repress the burden that threatened to consume him. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop for concern of hurting her. He gasped, his grip on her hips toughening as he plunged more fervently, the rhythmic slapping of their bodies reverberating through the room.

“Don’t ever come out. Stay in forever,” she stammered in confused, fading whimpers. His reaction was harsh, his hips digging with such force that the knot scraped hard against her walls, inducing her to writhe in ecstasy. “Nga tsun ke pawm fula tsonta oe… Nga zir fìtxan tsìltsan (You can’t just ask me that… You feel so amazing).” His voice strained with lust. In response, the woman gyrated her hips even deeper against him, moaning with abandon until he filled her completely. His burning seed spread inside her, as he released a final wave of pheromones that triggered an orgasm so powerful it knocked her unconscious — her frame succumbing to the overwhelming fulfillment that exhausted her. “Are you okay?” He kissed her temple, but she could barely nod, still breathless. “Good.”

Amid that swirling sea of dizzying, carnal lechery, the Na’vi caught a whiff of her enticing trail, drawing him in like a magnetic force. He twisted her neck gently, planting kisses and licks behind her ear, where it released all sorts of fragrances that blended with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Aubree shivered, her skin tingling as he grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh. The aroma of her essence intensified here, so potent it could dance on his tongue, so tantalizing to explore further.

As he indulged in a small taste, her partner’s presence surged within her; his dick twitched, and automatically her inner walls throb around him. Just as her apprehension grew, fearing his bite, his lips found her ear where he murmured: “Don’t be afraid. I won’t mark you until you ask me to.”

Suddenly, a clarity washed over her, as if the dense intoxication of hormones had dissolved, leaving her lucid in its wake. The researcher pushed her lover away, panic coursing. Her narrowed eyes hinted at a revelation, now that she could finally name the alpha who had guided her in her very first heat, still mating with her with a satisfied and dangerous grin.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy. Aubree fought not to close them, but with each blink it became harder and harder to keep them open. She felt his fingertips brush the hair from her face, then caress one cheek as he lowered himself to place a light kiss on her forehead.“Hahaw, ma’uniltı`ranyu. Nga kin ne tsurokx. Tätxaw ngeyä tawtutetokx. Oe veaywng nga kay sìn. (Sleep, my dreamwalker. You need to rest. Return to your human body. I’ll take care of you from now on).”

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

@neteyamssyulang @layla2-49

[luvwich]

wip whenevers

i was tagged by @ghostoffuturespast to share some work in progress! there's a lot of work and not much progress to speak of but here's a run-down of everything in active development

shanghai 57

some cp77 characters for the this story i've been piecing together. that's regina jones and an OC of mine, mariano torralba / tiyo nano, in their wild youth! (their middle age is wild but their youth was, too)

the fic is mostly-outlined and i'm in that stage of trying to catch a vibe on character voice, setting, all that good and extremely difficult stuff

hypercritical season 3

elsewhere in that universe i've been plotting this nameless post-canon fic that continues mike and vania's story from where crescent&redwood left off.

i will put my cards on the table, a lot of this one is motivated by me wanting to continue their "dynamic" with johnny, lol. (throuple airhorn) (i reveal my cards with a flourish and nobody is surprised, because i have posted excerpts of this before and because it's me)

but i'm also really grooving on the quasi-solarpunk setting where we last found them, and wallowing in the angst V feels after her decision to do the surgery and fuck people over.

Amidst a five-by-two grid of other structures, V's was the last greenhouse on the left. It was a ramshackle assembly: panes of reclaimed plexi-glass bound together with scrap metal and thick cords of hope. A dinky little thing that seemed always on the verge of failing. Though one or two bad storms had jeopardized its integrity, it was still here. She smiled over a shoulder at it as she plodded over the darkening ground toward dinner.

sometimes i do weird shit like use graphviz to plot out what i think the emergent themes of a thing are. i don't know if this helps me in any way but it's fun. the nonsense i'll go through just because i want a blorbo threesome i stg. pointing and laughing at myself.

royal blue

i'm writing a follow-up chapter to that fucking bummer one-shot i wrote about valerie and river a little while back. i can't leave them miserable like that!

breached (smutty collab)

i worked with @streetkid-named-desire on a one-shot with their OCs VG and batsheva and it turned out really cute :3 lookin for beta readers rn!

V's interface dribbled into the emptiness, everything but the maze and mouse thinning out into wavering lines. He could feel what she was doing through his avatar. The sensation wasn't quite the same as when he was in realspace, but it sizzled through his nerves like the aftershock of a dream. Somewhere in the netrunning chair's hardware, bits and bytes were scrambling to make sense of the feeling of Bea's wet, beautiful mouth dancing over his cock. The result was an exhilarating, electric connection that felt like neither life nor the Net.

bg3 bros helping bros

last but not least this is most likely the next thing i'll actually publish, and it's A Bit Different for me! i was possessed by the idea of Rugan and Gale having a hush-hush no-homo encounter a while ago and reeled off some lil bits for the fabulous Zhentil Keep discord. for whatever reason (probably because i have 80 other things to work on!!) i picked this up again over the weekend.

Now, Gale wasn't the slightest bit wrong. It was a nice cock, and anyone who espied it had the right, nay, the duty to say as much. But how'd he manage a glimpse from so many paces away, at the edge of moondark at that? Perhaps he'd deployed some perverted hocus-pocus in order to steal a look at the Zhentarim serpent. 

i have some kind folks beta-ing this, and i really need a title. it's the first thing i've written for bg3! i was trying to ship rugan with my tav but this scene has gripped me and i kind of love him with gale more now?? it happens

[alvin-draper]

Alien: Romulus

spoilers!

let's chat. and also preface with the fact I've only seen alien and Aliens before, both of which I adore and rewatch endlessly.

I've seen some reviewers talk about this, but Andy carried that movie character wise. Everyone else was good - props to the weird cousin guy. He was a dick but he added some much needed internal group conflict.

Andy and Rain - she was weirdly cookie cutter in a very video game protagonist kinda way. She had a goal: get off planet. She had a brother who she viewed both as person and as pet. Something to be loved and coddled. At no point was she ready for him to have more agency. From the minute you knew she'd decided to leave him behind, you could plot the course of her entire arc. Andy was better. I was worried they were doing a weirdly placed take on adults with strong autism to start with, and was kinda relieved to find out he was artificial with a buggy system, and then realised that actually no the comparison still 100% works, but I like how they played it. He gets agency with intelligence, but it's at the cost of losing his human connections. His little sister, and the friends he's an outlier to. He never feels integrated into the group, always slightly on the outside. When he gets his new chip and directive, I read it as equal parts programming and rebellion. It took away some of his desire to do anything for Rain, and replaced it with pragmatism. But you can see its still him in there, and that he's mad about them leaving him behind. He keeps making decisions to keep Rain alive, but he focuses in on her life rather than her emotional needs, and lets other people die. It still reads as love, to me. But instead of her sacrificing him for her better life, he sacrificed her emotional wellbeing for both of them to live. Definitely the character with the most intricacy.

As said, everyone else and everything else felt kind of cookie cutter. The characters don't make interesting decisions. Its still well written and well done: you understand the how'd and whys of every decision they make. But none of them shine enough to keep up with Andy.

Okay, enough character stuff. Let's talk everything else.

The score and sound mixing: incredible. Loved that it started on that deep space silence. The music is good and more than functional, will probably listen to the soundtrack as a background for a while. The best choice sound wise in the whole movie is when she floats out the bottom of the cargo bay in the final act and the sound cuts almost completely. You could've heard a pin drop.

The look of the thing: impeccable. The minute they get onto those prowling H G Geiger ships I was sold on the whole thing. The wires and curves and me grin so hard. Less excellent alien hiding places than I would've liked, but they didn't use that trick too many times so it worked out. The red and orange lighting in the dark rooms gave the movie a very distinct aesthetic, separate from the other Alien movies that I've seen. And of course the shot composition was glorious. One of my favourite visuals was in the water filled cyro fuel room, when Andy freezes and reboots. Hi standing stock still as the camera pans up and we the audience understand: oh shit, that's a lot of facehuggers.

Things they set up and paid off: the pregnancy. Andy slipping a vial of the compound into his pocket. The X Ray scanner. The dropped key. The gravity timer. Just about the security cameras. Things they didn't quite pay off: the temperature sensing device. The facehuggers travelling through the vents. The sharp edges and quick mechanical closing of the vent covers they get into the ship through.

Shit that came out of nowhere: all the goddamn fully grown xenomorphs. That bit was pretty out of left field. I had anticipated there being more Aliens, but they fact they left it so late doesn't really make much internal sense. I guess because they were in the other half of the outpost?

Callbacks I loved: the Nostromo at the start and the vague references to Ripley. Rook being Ash. That was gooooood. Also shows that the companies whole thing in Aliens that synthetics aren't like that anymore is kind of bollocks.

That fucking thing: I'm calling it Romulus for obvious reasons. I thought the design was excellent. So fucking horrifying. I will be having nightmares. Its like they reached into my subconscious and designed it specifically to get to me. Incredible. Didn't like the fact it roared I think if it had made either an Alien hiss or a human noise it would've been way more compelling. Properly horrifying though. Really hit home that it's a horror movie more than anything else. Also. The death scenes in the movie? Incredible. It did those Well. My favourite was absolutely the acid blood literally burning a whole through that guys chest, because it was visceral and brutal and horrifying and so so hell done. You could really feel the panic and tension and still clock him scrabbling at his chest just to melt his fingers and feeling sick all over again. Just brilliant.

Overall: it was good! It sucks that I only really liked Andy, and he only really atarts coming into his own after Rain betrays him. Still fucked she took his autonomy away again at the end, even if their quipping was cute. Loved them raising the temperature of that room as a disguise that was inspired. Loved them turning off the Gravity to shoot the Aliens that also worked great. The elevator was also a good set piece. The biggest let down in this movie is the characters. Andy's great, Rain is alright, and sos the cousin who's only around for the firstish act. Bit the main side character guy, who's sisters pregnant? I don't even remember his name. They kept hinting at there being both backstories for him and for Rain that were more interesting than what he got. For him, some kind of genuine military past. For her: she'd been to Yvaga before. Maybe even grew up there as a little kid. It was an opportunity to add proper dimension to both characters that was squandered in favor of the crazier action scenes, which sucks. This movie was in dire need of clearer and deeper characters, particularly because in my eyes that'd what Alien does best, and Aliens takes a really good stab at considering the larger main cast.

Essentially. It's a good damn horror movie, but I'm not sure it's a great Alien movie, for all the incredible HR Giger and weird sexual violence undertones. I'm just not sure that plot wise it earned its Alien credentials. Like the last few lines. Rain leaves a log, as she's the last survivor of her ship. But there's no passenger log. It was never an authorised mission. Its a pointless message to leave. It gives the audience closure because it flashes us back to the end of Alien, but it makes no sense as closure for Rain. That's where I'm at.

[captain-tch]

Friday the 13th (Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader)

After surviving the events of Terminus, the group stumble upon an abandoned camp site when searching for shelter. Their dream turns into a nightmare when they realise the reason why Camp Crystal Lake was truly abandoned. TW for the series: excessive gore, excessive violence, character deaths

previous part

part 2: calm before the storm

That night, you were in pure bliss. You relaxed into the mattress you'd dragged in earlier, your back relishing the feeling of softness over the usual cold, hard ground it had long become accustomed to. Daryl stood perched by the window over looking the camp, trained observant eyes never straying from the scenery. Whilst you wanted to drag him onto the mattress with you, you knew that you needed to stay vigilant. It was evident you all understood it's necessity, especially when Rick volunteered to take over from Daryl.

After all, you had all learned you never could be too careful.

You watched from your position on the floor, casting an eye over the group. Rosita was laughing at something Maggie had said, Eugene was conversing with Abraham albeit slightly stonily - the conversation looked as easy as drawing blood from a stone. Rick had Judith in his grasp, cradling her sleeping form. Carl slept nearby, the cowboy hat still glued to his head. Carol lingered at the edges, her back rod straight, her face slightly vacant. You imagined it must have been difficult for her to integrate herself back into a group setting after having been banished for what she did at the prison. Tara had already curled up, her soft snores acting as a consistent background noise.

Light footsteps echoed throughout the mess hall, signifying Glenn's presence. Ever the explorer, he was searching every nook and cranny for a unique find. You'd once called him a magpie, and he didn't deny it.

"Guys!" Glenn's excited yell cut through the chatter, waking Tara and Carl from their slumber with a start. "Check this out!"

All eyes were fixed on Glenn as he walked into the main room, his steps heavier than before, a record player in his hands. You gasped. Music. A warmth blossomed in your chest. Maybe things were starting to look up.

Everyone watched with baited breath as Glenn placed the record player on one of the benches at the edge of the room. Soothing, soulful music filled the space, Ella Fitzgerald's voice singing Dream A Little Dream Of Me.

Glenn walked up to Maggie, offering her his hand. A smile started to creep up her face as she took it, pulling Glenn close and swaying to the music. You averted your gaze, the moment feeling too intimate for your viewing.

Rick joined them, Judith close on his hip, swaying slowly to the music. Abraham whisked Rosita to her feet, her laughing and begging him not to step on her feet. Sensing his gaze on you, you turned towards Daryl, who had looked away from the window for just a moment. He had been watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Getting up to your feet, you joined him by the window, unable to tear your gaze from him. With the music playing quietly in the background, his attention on you, you felt pure, unfiltered bliss. His fingers twitched towards you. You took his invitation, linking your fingers with his own, enjoying the scratch of his callouses in your palm.

It felt like, for a brief lapse of time, everything was perfect.

The dancing faded away, until eventually people began to settle in for bed. Daryl was relieved of his post, settling into the mattress besides you.

When night was its darkest, you stirred. Your eyes struggled to adjust in the dark, making out a vague shadow a few feet from you. It was hanging over Carl's mattress. You assumed it was Rick wanting to make sure Carl was alright.

Except he merely stood over the boy, staring down. There was something... predatory in the way he was standing over the boy. It almost looked as if instead of protecting the boy, he was looming over him, waiting to strike.

"Rick, what are you doing?" You whispered.

Rick bent in half, brushing Carl's head. He stood upright, half turning towards you.

"Shush." He drew a finger to his lips, adding extra emphasis on the need to be quiet. Your eyes darted to the makeshift cradle, where Judith was sleeping soundly. You nodded your head silently in understanding - no one wants a screaming baby in the middle of the night.

You turned over, nestling your face into Daryl's back, hoping the lull of sleep would take you soon, completely oblivious to the fact that Rick had fallen asleep at his post thirty minutes ago.

~

Sunshine streamed through the windows of the mess hall. You groaned, your arm lifting to shield your eyes from the shine.

"C'mon sleeping beauty." Daryl's voice cut through your tired daze. He picked up your arm, lightly guiding it back to your chest. The light was blinding, your eyes taking a minute to adjust. "I've got somethin' to show ya."

You grumbled, nestling further into the mattress and pulling the sheets over your head. "Can it wait?"

"You either get up or I drag ya ass out of bed, your choice."

Begrudgingly, you lowered the sheet, glaring at him. "You wouldn't dare."

He merely smirked. In a flash he grabbed the blanket, whipping it away from your body. You pawed at the disappearing material, a stream of cold air hitting your body. A shock shivered through your whole body. The glare you sent Daryl's way became more piercing by the second. The playful tilt was still on his lips as he offered his hand out.

"Truce?"

You nodded, taking his hand and standing up. You repressed a shiver, goosebumps rising on your arms. A chill had started to settle in the air, the sign of the incoming autumn. Wordlessly, Daryl fished his poncho from the floor, passing it to you. Gratefully you took the poncho, slipping it over your head, enjoying the mixed earthy smell that was Daryl that wafted around you.

"So what was so urgent?"

"Figured we had time for another lesson." Daryl started walking out of the mess hall, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and leaving you to rush to catch up. It was then that you noticed that none of the group were currently in the room. As if hearing your thoughts, Daryl told you they were checking if any walkers got in overnight, and beginning to compiling supplies for when you were all back on the road. You tried not to think about the endless days, constantly worrying about what was around the corner.

When the door was opened, a rush of chilly air enveloped you. It carried what appeared to be a yellow streamer, black words you couldn't decipher imprinted onto the material. You gripped the edges of the poncho, following Daryl dutifully until he stopped short. You had come across an area that must have previously been used for archery practice, stationary targets positioned at different distances along the grass.

Daryl pulled off the crossbow and handed it to you. You took it, muscles aching in your arm and back at the weight. He pointed at the closest target, reminding you of how to hold yourself, giving prompts on accuracy. You nodded, letting the information wash over you.

Taking a deep breath, you aimed at the target.

On your released breath, you squeezed the trigger - jerking at the sudden scream echoing through camp. The arrow flew way beyond the target, lodging itself in the grass.

Without another thought you thrust the crossbow at the archer, unsheathing the knife at your belt. Your heart was in your throat as you pursued the source of the noise, any hint of drowsiness erased from your body.

Tara was encased in Glenn's embrace, her head buried in the crook of his shoulder. Glenn's eyes connected with yours over Tara's shoulder. He gestured towards the community shower and toilets, where the rest of the group was gathered. Apart from Sasha and Rosita.

You didn't want to go inside. You could see the trail of red from where you were stood. Your mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish, scrambling to understand what had happened. She would have said if she was bitten, and you saw her last night. How can things have gone wrong so quickly?

You cast an eye over the group again, taking in the numbers. Were both Sasha and Rosita dead? Maggie numbly answered your unspoken question, confirming Sasha had perished.

Rick's face was grim. He rubbed a hand across his face, turning to the ground. "She wasn't bit."

Your heart faltered in your chest. She died. You prayed it was natural causes; the amount of blood you saw did nothing to convince you of that poor lie.

"She was... Nailed to the wall." You hoped she hadn't been alive when that happened. "Her neck had been slashed."

A heavy grief stifled the group. Sasha had been strong, and fierce, loyal and kind. She didn't deserve to die so gruesomely. You sent another prayer up to a god you never believed in, praying that she didn't suffer for long. One peaceful thought was at least she was with Bob now.

"She had Carl's hat glued on her head and Abraham's dog tags around her neck."

You froze. You sent a panicked look to Daryl, whose face had become an inpenetreble wall of stone.

"Whoever this is, has been close enough to steal from us. They want us scared. They want us to know they have been within killing reach and didn't strike." You willed your hands to stop shaking as Rick continued to speak, his voice not wavering once. "We're not waiting for this fucker to hunt us down. We're leaving right now."

It was a frenzy. People began rushing to the mess hall to gather what few supplies they could. On the porch, Rosita stood with her hands on her hips, a frown etched into her face. "What's going on?"

"There's no time to explain - just grab as much food as you can. We're getting out of here." Rick's stern voice didn't leave any room for questions. Rosita spun on her heel, rushing towards the door of the mess hall.

It opened. Nothing was amiss. Rick's knife was in his grip, assessing the area. Maggie, Tara, Carl and Carol filed in behind, equally as alert.

Rick turned to the remaining five of you, throwing two empty back packs. "Go to the nurses station. We'll meet you where we last camped. Be on your guard."

Nodding, you, Daryl, Eugene, Abraham and Glenn sprinted for the nurses station. You all but fell through the doorway, throwing open drawers and cabinets with little care. You grabbed anything you could, throwing it into the bag without processing it fully.

Sasha was dead.

Someone was targeting you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your blurry vision growing as you threw some bandages into your pockets. Daryl stayed by your side, snatching up some painkillers, squeezing them into the pack. He zipped it up, throwing it onto his back.

Someone had slashed Sasha's throat.

Someone had pinned her body to the wall.

Someone had been in the space you had secured and stole items from you.

"Ready?" Daryl gruffly asked. No one had a chance to answer. The atmosphere shifted. Glenn's face crumpled.

"No, no, no." Glenn repeated, dropping the package in his hands and running so fast out of the door he could have been flying. You spun to shout his name, to scream the warning about being alone, when your eyes caught sight of Glenn's despair.

The mess hall was on fire.

next part

the walking dead masterlist

[starlight-blvd]

the hearing — a hwu drabble-fic

(I wanted to write something for my HWU MC before I posted her profile entry so that her bio and headcanons made more sense. Quotes in italics come from dialogue in the quest itself.)

Friday, May 22nd, 2015

"Rose Jeanette Ingram, this is not the end of your acting career."

The brunette stood in front of her dorm's bathroom mirror, wearing a suit she'd kept in her closet to bring out for this unfortunate occasion. Her disciplinary hearing was scheduled to start in half an hour at the Monroe building, thankfully only a ten-minute walk away.

Her phone was on the sink's counter, still open so that her text messages were still on screen. Addison and Lisa were already there, and Zoe was finding a parking spot off-campus.

A knock on the door. "Rose? You good in there?"

Rose sighed. "Just a second!" She took one more look at herself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom.

Ethan Blake, her agent, stood in front of her desk with his hand leaning on its surface.

"Any luck?" she asked.

He shook his head with a pitiful expression. "Nope. Chris is out of the country to shoot a film, and Holly's going no-contact right now."

"Shit. And you can't vouch for me because your title makes them think you're inherently biased."

"Unfortunately. And we can't ask Aria to come in either since we didn't work with her."

Rose sat on the edge of her bed. "I can't believe this. All these technicalities, and it feels like they're running this hearing process ass-backwards. Anders probably put some fucking money behind this just so they can eliminate any of Bianca's competition."

Ethan moved to sit next to his friend, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You know what I always say: 'Integrity is losing with good intentions, not winning with bad intentions.' We just have to go in with Lisa and Zoe on our side at this point. It might still be enough, but we can't say we didn't try regardless."

She looked down at her feet as she slid on a pair of black heels. "You're right. I just don't want my career to end like this."

"I know. We'll get through this. I promise."

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Rose sat at a table by herself in front of a long bench with several unoccupied seats. Addison, Ethan, Lisa and Zoe all sat a few rows behind her. Bianca, Jenni, Lance, and Anders all sat at a table a few yards away from Rose's.

Professor Singh walked into the room, followed by several faces Rose didn't recognize, save for Professor Hunt at the very end of the line. He was the only one to look at her and acknowledge her presence before going to sit behind the bench.

The air around her felt fifteen degrees colder when she heard the door fall shut.

"Nice of you to show up on time," Professor Singh remarked. "Barely."

"Save your vitriol for when it's warranted, Priya," Thomas quipped back before taking a head count of the room. "It looks like all relevant parties are here, so the hearing can begin." His voice didn't seem as cold as it usually was in this moment, and Rose couldn't discern if that was a good sign or not.

Professor Singh spoke again. "We've already had a chance to review the three projects you submitted. The work is impressive…" A long pause. "...but the issue of your character is a concern. We'll start with community members who wish to speak against Rose."

"Ooh! Me first!" Bianca's shrill voice spoke up, elbowing her boyfriend Lance in the ribs.

"Uh, and me! I want to say mean stuff about Rose!"

Anders crossed his arms, his facial expression as smug as the day Rose first knew of his existence. "And I have plenty to say."

Professor Singh seemed to copy his expression in return. "Oh, don't worry… you'll all get your turns-"

"This is asinine!" "——— bullshit!"

Rose had shouted with the more hearing-appropriate choice of words, but she hadn't expected the latter voice to continue.

"You do understand how predatory you appear to be, don't you?" Professor Hunt asked as he stood up from his seat at the bench.

"Thomas, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Professor Singh questioned with a shocked and seething voice.

"Calling out abhorrent behavior that I'm seeing happen directly in front of my face. Yours included. If this board is not going to function as intended, then I will not sit or stand as a member of it."

"You're making a mistake-"

"So is the board for letting us address the disciplinary complaint of a nineteen-year-old who went into a club despite being underage, was drinking despite being underage, and who antagonized a twenty-three-year-old woman who was just minding her own business." Professor Hunt moved from behind the bench. "I have all of these students in my class, Priya. I know how old they are. They're all going to make understandable mistakes that every student goes through, but I know damn well that there is video evidence of Bianca drinking in that club and video evidence of what actually happened that you did not want to take into account so you could accept a blank check from Anders Stone." He eventually stood beside Rose's table. "I will not let this slide."

This stunned the disciplinary board into silence — and almost everyone else, for that matter.

"You think you're so damn smart, Hunt," Anders remarked with a sneer. "Always trying to level the playing field with your heroism."

"I'm no hero." He turned to the actress. "I know Rose can defend herself well on her own, but I'm not going to sit here and watch her career die because of a setup."

Campus security started filing into the room, moving to take the Stone family and Bianca's friends off the premises.

The two professors who had spoken throughout this meeting glared daggers at each other from across the room.

"Dismiss this complaint," Thomas ordered. "You know the tabloids will devour this scandal when it comes out. None of us will come out looking good in the end."

Without a word but still continuing her glare, Professor Singh signed the dismissal from for the complaint, handing it off to the others to sign.

Rose sat there as if she were a deer in headlights, unsure if she really just bore witness to all of that in front of her. She didn't think that Hunt of all people would have sided with her, but as she watched people around her be even more vicious than she knew him to be in her presence, it dawned on her that this could just be the beginning of her time in the industry. Her mind went to how much worse things could get as opposed to how much better things could be after this. She took a calming breath as she finished processing the events of the meeting, watching the board members leaving after one of them handed the dismissal form to Hunt.

"I think I'm going to change my major," Rose said quietly.

Hunt paused, pen in hand. "Pardon?"

Rose looked down at her hands on the table. "If this is how the industry is going to continue to treat me as an actor, then I don't want things to get even worse."

Placing the paperwork down, Thomas looked at her. "I wouldn't rush into making that decision here and now." He sat across from her. "You still have many years ahead of you to figure this out. I know of your previous academic record, Rose. Your skillset leaves you at an advantage here." He signed the form and placed it into a manila folder, which in turn went into his messenger bag. "Ultimately, I can't make your decision for you, but summer break starts tomorrow. Give yourself some grace, and please give this idea more thought and time to see if that's what you want."

She nodded, taking a moment before looking over at him. "...thank you, Professor. For defending me."

Hunt nodded in return. "Of course. I know you can handle yourself, but I knew how this was going to play out if I didn't step in." He stood up from his seat. "Walk with me. Your friends are waiting for you."

Complying, Rose stood up and moved to walk side by side with him. "I thought you hated me. I've heard you call me a pain in the ass before."

"I was too quick to judge you, and I take full responsibility for that. Not just towards you, but toward some of your friends as well. I'm sorry."

Rose adjusted her sleeves. "It's okay. I'm just glad you apologized."

The two left the room as Addison, Ethan, Lisa and Zoe stood by the opposite wall of the hallway they entered.

"Keep me updated," Hunt said before turning down the hallway and exiting the building.

"What the hell was that?" Lisa asked.

"I don't know," Rose admitted, watching Hunt walk across the courtyard. "But I think I'll be fine in Hollywood 101 now."

[meowjaa]

✧ competition ✧

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers, 3 part series (if thats what you can call it)

context: levi ackerman x reader, after a rough mission you went to levi the only person you feel some comfort in.

a/n: hello my loves I was on character ai when I did this little rivalry office thing and I couldn't get it out of my head so the events based in this are most likely scenarios that happened in my chat, other than that enjoy my loves <33

Tomorrow would be the dawn of a new office order. But tonight, Y/N suddenly didn't feel so sure of who deserved to come out on top. Maybe there was more to her rival than she had let herself believe...

The next morning, Y/N arrived at the office early, too anxious to sit around her apartment waiting. She expected Levi to already be at his desk, but the office was still and quiet.

As more of her coworkers filtered in, the energy shifted to a buzz of anticipation. Everyone was on edge wondering about the big announcement from Erwin. He had a flair for the dramatic when it came to things like this.

Finally, the elevator dinged down the hall, and Y/N sat up straight, holding her breath. But it was just Levi stepping out, impeccable as always in his ironed shirt and perfectly knotted tie. He met Y/N's eye with a nearly imperceptible nod before heading to his desk.

At precisely 9 am, Erwin emerged from his office and called the floor to attention. He began by praising everyone's hard work and expressing how difficult this decision had been. Y/N dug her nails into her palms, willing him to just get on with it.

"But ultimately, one person demonstrated the qualities I believe are integral for the growth of this company." Erwin continued. Y/N's heart pounded, sure this was the moment of revelation.

"So it is my pleasure to announce our new senior executive…Levi Ackerman!"

The words hung in the air for a split second before the office erupted into applause. Y/N felt her stomach drop even as Levi's face remained impassive, as if he had expected this outcome all along.

Numbly, she joined in congratulating him, shaking his hand and managing a stiff "Congratulations" while resentment boiled inside her. She had worked night after night, done everything to show she was the ideal candidate, but it hadn't been enough.

Levi met her eye, his gaze uncharacteristically soft. "You deserve this just as much as I do," he said under the din. "Don't doubt that."

Y/N nodded weakly, tears stinging behind her eyes. She blinked them back and forced a smile. "Of course. I'm happy for you."

The celebrations carried on around them, but all Y/N could focus on was the faded dream crumbling before her. She had been so sure this promotion was hers. Now she didn't know what came next.

Levi squeezed her shoulder gently. "There will be other opportunities," he said. For once, the rivalry between them seemed to melt away, leaving only understanding in its wake.

As Y/N looked up at Levi, she realized then that this man was no longer just a nemesis to defeat. He saw her potential even when she couldn't. Maybe this change didn't have to be the end after all, but the start of something entirely new...

part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/meowjaa/724600595778060288/competition?source=share

[iwantasecretgarden]

This scene specifically is so powerful for Katya (played by Cybill Shepherd) as a character for a number of reasons. Firstly, she shows agency as a partner to Goncharov for the first time mid-film as his equal, willing to make problems - even former business partners - disappear. She’s not the helpless alcohol-soaked victim she portrays to avoid suspicion, even from her husband himself. Katya is aware of Goncharov’s every mood, and yet he is completely oblivious to hers. This scene with Ambrosini directly mirrors the finale, when Katya holds the gun on her husband, leaving the audience on the edge of our seats, as we know she is perfectly capable of shooting a man.

Secondly, Al Pacino acts beyond even his incredible range in his pastiche of condescension, well-meaning scorn, and misogyny that Katya, despite shooting him, was still just a daughter-figure, a princesa, a charity act he might “talk out of her hysteria.” He wheedles and begs, trying to win her over until he makes one fatal error: an anti-Semitic remark. Knowing the Goncharovs were fleeing Russia due to the Jewish round ups in their country, and despite them jumping from the fat to the fire of Naples the Mussolini Era, the layers of Pacino’s character Mario Ambrosini still manage to shine both smarmy and slick. Pacino’s famous glittering eyes immediately became a hallmark for one of the most subtle but unmistakable cinematic moments in history; the exact moment he understands Katya will kill him. Katya even kills Ambrosini in her husband’s signature style, rather than let him bleed out or perhaps escape, despite his ‘caring’ for her earlier in the film. Cybill Shepherd herself plays the affront and the fury of the anti-Semitism Katya expresses perfectly. Later Shepherd went on the record in Modern Screen to remind audiences that unlike in Christianity, there are “some sins that are unforgivable,” and that the Shoah was one. There was no possible redemption for Ambrosini.

Thirdly, the killing weapon being a direct mirror to Goncharov’s calling card - but taken from the guitar Sofia painted for Katya - illuminates why Katya is making this choice. Obviously, Goncharov never wanted children, but to send Mario Ambrosini to force Katya to get it ‘taken care of’ cemented him in cruelty. This directly contrasts to hardline Sofia, who, in her work as an enforcer and a spy, force her to act as ‘one of the guys’ (in her menswear clothing, casual cursing, and lack of feminine materialism such as makeup), chose to have an abortion because of lack of ability to keep a child alive and still pursue her line of work. This is specifically striking as the movie Goncharov was released in 1973, the same year as the hallmark Roe v. Wade that has changed the way women are able to access healthcare in America.

The subtextual relationship between the two women can be played as homo-eroticism, but also as a way to signal that Katya had found someone to call family. Sofia felt isolated and lonely until Katya arrived, and even though the two women played different tropes of the hyper-feminine wife and the very beginnings of the definition of Butch, they were able to bond over a very scarring, real experience that gave many viewers nightmares. For Katya to accept the painted guitar as a gift, and turn around and  make it part of her killing MO shows her ability to truly bloom in her role as neither prisoner nor victim, but a willing - and ruthless - participant of the Naples Underground. It’s what takes this average mob-made movie to a new height beyond the likes of femme fatales in the Hammett and Chandler era.

Despite the film being set in the thirties at the height of Mafia showmanship with the likes of Al Capone - whose personal knowledge of the underground was integral to its scriptwriting - the Cold War and U.S. relations with Russia led to Katya being cast as either a Russian Agent, or a Russian subversion. Either way, we can agree, her killing line will go down with the greatest movie quotes of the 20th century.

- From “Goncharov: A Feminist Critique” printed in Mad Magazine, (Summer 1975)

Image description of script under the cut.

KATYA HOLDS A SMOKING GUN. MARIO IS HALF SITTING AGAINST A WALL HE'S SLID DOWN, HANDS OVER HIS STOMACH. A SPLASH OF BLOOD PAINTS THE WALL.

MARIO: Katya, Katya, come on, be reasonable! Haven't I been like a father to you? To both of you?

KATYA: Goncho told you to leave us alone! He never wants to see you again!

MARIO: And this is how you think he meant it? You're going to make me disappear? I'm too big for it! Too big, I say!

KATYA points the gun at him again.

MARIO, desperately: I loved you! Like a father with his daughter. Wasn't I good to you? Didn't I take care of you? Didn't I open my arms to you? To you and Goncho both! Didn't I open Naples to you? All the doors after that terrible business in the war?

KATYA, lowering the gun: Yes. You did.

MARIO: Yes! Yes. Like a papa, I say. I showed you the best places to eat, the easiest marks to shake down, I showed you how to live! And this is how you repay me?

KATYA: You have been like a father to me.

MARIO, relieved: Thank you! This is what I am saying! I was good to you when nobody was good to your people.

KATYA's eyes narrow.

MARIO: I didn't care what you were! I fixed it so you guys had it good here. So that Italia would always be your father. And don't you owe a debt to your father? Honor your father?

KATYA reaches into her handbag. She takes out a guitar string from the painted guitar SOFIA gave her. KATYA steps closer, so that she straddles an injured, struggling MARIO.

KATYA: I do honor Italia. I will always honor my father.

Camera zooms on her fists turning around the wire garrote.

MARIO's eyes go wide.

KATYA: But this isn't about that. I hated my father.

Focus flashes to her well-lipsticked mouth.

KATYA: And Russia is my mother.

[alexilulu]

Books I Read in 2024 #1: A Desolation Called Peace (Arkady Martine, Tor Books, 2021)

Summary: Following Mahit's return to her home on the heels of defusing a succession crisis in the imperial core, Mahit and Three Seagrass reunite to find a way to defuse the unknown alien threat probing the edges of the Empire along the station's borders, threatening both with oblivion.

This is a pretty damn good book. Theres a few things about it that don't work as well; I find books that have a tendency to jump perspectives have a hard time maintaining a consistent voice and keeping things compelling (this was a gigantic part of my problem with Translation State, a novel from an author I adore that has almost nothing for me to cling to as parts of the novel i enjoy). The POV characters are relatively fine, and I don't think there is a way around it in the way the novel is constructed as a narrative drawing from the first person, but the end result is that the writing can be inconsistent as hell in some of the more secondary character's chapters. You get the best sense for Mahit and Three, and for the admiral Nine Hibiscus (who is honestly a delight to read, a fun compromised character), and child-emperor-clone Eight Antidote, but the others are barely there, mainly existing to give context to actions the primary characters could not see.

The book is primarily focused on the rush to the border by a Teixcalaani fleet to understand and then crush the alien forces revealed in the climax of Memory Called Empire, a long-known threat that has been nibbling at the border of the Empire and its outlying vassal states like Mahit's station for years. The aliens themselves are seemingly implacable, appearing from nowhere and crushing Teixcalaani forces before being crushed in turn by the superior weight of arms available to the empire. The race quickly becomes to try to negotiate a peace between them both, as the alien force seemingly considers humans as not being people worthy of consideration (another connective tissue point between the Imperial Radch novels and their implacable, completely opaque and purely alien Presger who prey upon humanity with impunity and negotiate from a position of absolute strength), butchering an entire colony for seemingly no reason; bodies are abandoned where they fell, untouched.

The aliens are the type of strange you would want from them, a semi-hive mind formed from a fungal substrate that integrates individuals into a shared consciousness and makes them Whole in their cosmology, and cannot imagine a world that cannot communicate in the way they do. They act the way they do because to not be part of the mind is to be screaming meat. It's fun.

Mahit and Three's relationship takes great steps here both forward and backward; I genuinely do enjoy that they have an extended period here wherein Three has to come to the understanding that every interaction she has with Mahit, accidentally or on purpose, is just slathered in references to Mahit's barbarian-ness in Teixcalaani culture. It's great specifically because they so clearly have this incredible rapport with one another from the moment they reunite, but there's some part of Three that cannot help but other Mahit as the Outsider, to view her with this lens that simultaneously acknowledges her skill and brains and beauty, but still as something lesser that she cannot help but bring up. It feels good when they finally connect again and come to greater understanding, and at the same time it's clear that that isn't the end of the road for them. It's phenomenal that they're allowed to be messy and grow over these novels, from the standoffish camaraderie they started with to here, an uneasy pair of lovers, still finding their footing with one another.

The finale is effective, a power-hungry admiral under the commander making a move to genocide the aliens even as they finally reach a proper ceasefire, sure that a decapitation strike on one of their worlds will settle things in the Teixcalaani way, power via might and awe and destruction.

The biggest part of this novel is about identity, weirdly enough. The aliens are networked and bound to one another and yet individual, and a recurring element of the story is that the Teixcalaani Shard pilots are networked in a similar way (based on the omnipresent, semi-human police of the Teixcalaani home world who are networked to the city's AI) and are rapidly discovering the problems with such a thing being rolled out in the middle of a war; pilots across the galaxy are collapsing in howling, bawling pain at the moment another pilot dies, weeping uncontrollably and feeling connected across a further length of distance than has ever been possible before now in the empire. The repeated refrain of 'how broad is the Teixcalaani definition of 'you?', returning from Memory Called Empire exemplifies this; the Lsel stationers are all implanted with the memories of their predecessors sometimes up to 10 generations back, forming a gestalt of the centuries of experience needed to survive in space into a compatible person's mind.

Overall, I do feel that it's a weaker second book than the extremely strong Memory, but that is only in comparison to one of the best space opera sci-fi novels in the last 5 years. It builds on the framework it created, giving us a closer look at the spear arm of the empire after seeing its heart laid bare and the ways it is at war with itself even as it crushes everything outside of itself.

[noblechaton]

welcome to the official "Noble rambles about Final Fantasy VII Rebirth" post wherein I get annoying about this behemoth of an experience

don't intend to talk much about story stuff here - tho I got a lotta thoughts about it so that might get its own thing later - but consider this a spoiler warning all the same; for gameplay and some story stuff

so just like to set a baseline here I wanna say I think this is a generational game and the biggest leap in quality I've seen a series take from one game to the other since maybe KH1 to KH2 - it's still got the same bones, but they've been rearranged and adjusted to the point of near perfection in a lot of spaces and while gameplay does still carry some flaws - lock on is still miserable, I'd argue they basically ruined Aerith lol - it's so sharp and addictive that I actually popped it back in yesterday to do the superboss stuff (which I think speaks to just how good I feel this game is since that superboss stuff is a real gauntlet lmao)

just about every character - aside from Aerith - feels really fun to play once u get used to them and I'd also say that Aerith is still fun to play with but it took so long to get used to her that I basically stopped using her outright well before the last few chapters lmao. they changed some stuff with her that I simply don't agree with and while there's some cool things in place of what was removed or changed it's just sort of not enough - she takes too long to charge ATB and can't do much without it now so she's kind of useless without a strong support setup around her which made me go "Ehhh. I wanna play as the cat again" or "Sure but what if I was Yuffie instead". I think the biggest thing is they took away the ability to hold the button down for her attack and made that tempest instead, with triangle being given to a ward shift that while neat I just never really used

but again even if she's been kinda nerfed I'd say everyone is just. so much fun. Cloud's still the great all rounder he was in Remake but they fixed the problem where bigger, aerial based enemies were basically gods by giving him proper aerial combat himself. when I first got hit with the tutorial for this in the demo prior to release I could have stood up and clapped that's how badly I'd hoped they'd do something for him

Tifa's still a stagger machine and yet feels even more necessary now thanks to that and just how quick she can be - but then Yuffie's even faster and is borderline broken which honestly rules. Barret's a lil less heavy and that makes him a lot more fun to control - I loved how grounded the cast was in Remake, but that heft just wouldn't work in Rebirth so I'm glad it was adjusted

meanwhile Red XIII is pretty solid - I didn't love him being so dependent on Vengeance Mode but after I'd learned his kit a bit more I'd say he was one of the more fun characters to play as. Cait Sith is really the only other new character u actually get to play as in this one and I can see why some have derided him/his gameplay but I honestly thought he was just as fun to play as as Red or Tifa or anyone else really - save maybe Cloud, who still has just a bit of an edge over everyone else - and I really loved how they integrated the fortune telling, casino style gameplay into his kit

it all just sort of flows really well in Rebirth that even Aerith and those that might be a bit wonky like Cait or Red end up feeling good when ya get into the moment and such. synergy moves are largely a really cool addition - don't think united refocus needed to take up so many slots lol - and I wish there were even more of them. the sidebar synergy stuff is also neat but I slowly stopped using it over the ~100 hours I played as a lot of em were just kinda difficult to properly pull off in combat

beyond just the gameplay - which is flashier than ever and brimming with character and quality alike imo - the game's just. something else to me

the music goes absolutely nuts and if this isn't soundtrack of the year I have no idea what possibly will be. it's visually stunning, the vocal performances are incredible across the board - especially Barret, who cemented himself as one of my favorite Square characters of all time with this one (but then, so did most of the cast tbh). it's so much more grandiose and higher in scale than Remake that I'd grown worried prior to release

so like. in truth I haven't played OG FF7 to this point - I sorta know what happens in that game, up to a certain and very popular point at least, but Remake is a very sentimental game for me for a lot of reasons so while I grew ridiculously hyped for Rebirth I'd wondered if I'd feel the same about it as I ultimately did with Remake - where I felt the game was this stunning, satisfying experience that does almost everything as well as it could with this grounded atmosphere and well threaded narrative with a strong, snappy mix of action and turn based combat. if I could even hope for it to live up to what was one of my favorite games of last gen, and of all time at this point

Rebirth lived up to my hopes and then some. the atompshere isn't the same as Remake's, which I loved, but it feels like the perfect evolution from the narrow, grungy alleyways of Sector 7, the tighter corridors of Shinra's construction, into this sprawling yet not entirely overwhelming open world that's varied so well from place to place that each ends up fairly memorable long before u even get close to finishing it out, every zone feeling both so wide and yet manageable, brimming with character and side content

that does bring me to my main complaint with the game tho - the side content kind of fucking sucks LMAO

the open worlds are gorgeous and carry some incredible musical tracks - Gongaga's a huge favorite of mine - buuuuuuuuut the stuff u actually do in them never really changes and grows pretty dull a good zone or two before the ending. it's a lot of Ubisoft open world stuff - towers, combat challenges, etc., with some variety thrown in via the protorelics (superboss related collectibles) but that's kinda not enough. even the more unique stuff to this game - like the lifespring scanning and the summon crystals - grow really stale and I wish they'd alternated the content from zone to zone a bit more. I think I was in Cosmo Canyon when I realized there'd be another zone and I was actively sort of dreading it lmao, mostly since I was doing just about everything someone could on a first playthrough

and I guess that's kind of not a huge complaint tho since like. ya don't gotta do it lmao. it's side content - but I wish it'd been. y'know. more good. I also wish the minigames weren't largely ass.

box buster's back from Remake and it's actually pretty fun, chocobo racing is solid enough, but most of the rest of the stuff is rough in some way or another - often in the controls, like the g-bike and 3D brawler. even the coliseum tournament stuff largely suffers from the bad difficulty problems that have imo long plagued the industry at this point - there's a few that are just infuriating and poorly designed and I'm unsure why the minigames as a whole were so hellish. as if the testers did too well and now we the casual players must pay the price for their sins (also the final side quest is related to the minigames and as of the most recent patch is bugged so while I've completed it, I haven't actually finished it 🙃)

and honestly for a while I thought all that would hold the game back for me. it's optional, sure, but it also makes up a good chunk of the game, to the point where the game's almost overstuffed with things to do, but it's kind of all shit with a few exceptions - Queen's Blood is crazy btw that needs to be a mobile thing or a real game asap - so that's gotta be a knock on things, yeah? and it totally is, but like. as I made my way through the final dungeon of the game and into the ending, I realized that it just. didn't matter

which would lead me into the story if I were going in depth on it here. I might later but to keep it somewhat vague - I loved it, and felt the pacing, twists and turns all really enjoyable. another solid evolution from things in Remake, with an ending that I genuinely adore even if things are a bit cloudy (I've got my theories - again, perhaps elsewhere). when I say the last few hours of this game shifted my opinion - which was already quite high! - even higher, I mean it. I understand why some don't like the story or the ending in particular, but I love everything they did and set up here and I'm ridiculously excited to see what comes next given just how much they managed to do with this game - tho I will say, if ya ain't onboard with the Remake project by this point I don't know if the narrative will sell ya on it given that it, naturally, does more than Remake did which ik was uh. somewhat controversial. lol

but yeah. I purposefully didn't deep-dive on Rebirth before launch save watching a few trailers due to spoilers and such so I kind of had no idea just how big it was gonna be - and even then, I don't think I could have guessed at how absolutely and utterly stuffed with content this game is. it's the first game of this gen that feels like it earns the increased price tag to me, that's worth the asking price as it's so much bigger and enthralling, so much more than I'd anticipated

which kinda sums up my feelings on Rebirth. that it's this massive game that kept me hooked for days on end, that constantly surprised and satisfied me even as my playtime steadily rose

I really, really enjoyed my near 100 hour playthrough despite the odds and ends bc I feel this is a near immaculate supergame that delivered on almost everything I'd hoped for an then some. it isn't perfect, there's some rough edges, but it does so much so well that it's impossible for me to view it as anything but this generational title that's both ridiculously good at its various peaks and sets up the final game in this trilogy to be another all-timer

so yeah I kinda liked it

[rp-repliforce]

Oh! Sorry about that. ^^;

In that case, meet “Bladeless!“

I... actually still haven’t come up with a real name for him, so that’s just a nickname that’s stuck so far.

Anyways, the basic premise of his character is that he’s a Bisharp who’s moved to the big city, and has figured out how to integrate with human society. He also knows how to speak - kinda like how Meowth does in the anime. Technically he’s still 100% ‘wild,‘ but he carries an old satchel around in order to trick people into thinking that he belongs to someone (plus it’s useful for carrying his things). I kinda doubt any trainer would want to capture him anyways though, since he's missing a HUGE chunk of his attack power with those ruined blades of his.

Personality-wise he’s fairly cool-headed, but on the inside is an unbreakable will to SURVIVE. He’s also very cunning, but I imagined that’s kind of a typical trait of his species. Still, no Bisharp has ever tried to apply their intelligence in the way that he has. He’s also pragmatic, and has a straightforward way of speaking. Still, he’s eloquent enough not to come off as curt. He has an independent nature as well, and doesn’t want to be ‘owned’ by anyone (which is another common trait among Bisharps). He’d rather fend for himself than be taken in by a trainer, but he does appreciate the sentiment of those people who want to take him in. However, he’s not at all introspective, and only thinks more deeply about his own motivations when prompted by someone else.

Also, I tweaked his proportions a bit to give him a bit more individuality. He has broader and pointer shoulderpads, a subtly larger chest, and his eyes are slightly disconnected from his ‘chinstrap‘ (which was originally an error on my part, but I decided I should keep it). If you look closely, I left in the faint outline of how his axe-blade used to look before it got ruined. It’s supposed to be long and straight like a Pawniard’s blade. I also darkened the edges of his eyes a bit in an attempt to add a subtle weariness to his expression, but I don’t think I quite pulled it off... Lastly, the only blade left on his body that even cuts anymore is the retractable one on his left gauntlet (which isn’t even his dominant arm).

He also has a bit of a story so far. He was born in the wild to a female Bisharp who had just established her territory. He and his 4 other siblings were essentially her first batch of Pawniards. When he had evolved, he challenged her for leadership of the pack, but she was much stronger and more experienced than he was, and easily drove him out - leaving him with some deep cuts as a parting gift. If he had stubbornly tried to stand his ground despite his wounds, she DEFINITELY would have killed him. I imagine that the pack dynamics of wild Pawniard & Bisharp can be pretty cutthroat, and evolution doesn’t guarantee survival. The most common death for new Bisharps is being cut down by their former pack leader. Anyways - Bladeless spent quite a while wandering the wilderness, but eventually managed to recruit enough Pawniards to found a territory of his own. Researchers monitoring the area named his pack “Sagittarius,” because its territorial marking resembled Sagittarius’s bow: ♐ (I imagined that since this pokemon lines’ sense of smell is very weak, they mark their territory by cutting symbols into trees and stuff). Things were going alright for Bladeless until that fateful rainy day... He got into a brutal fight with another pokemon (which I haven’t figured out the species of) that destroyed his blades. The ones on his body had been shattered by a shockwave, while the one on his head had been mangled from a blunt strike (or getting smashed against something). He survived, but was badly injured. Because Pawniards don’t follow or obey Bisharp with broken or chipped axeheads, his entire pack abandoned him since they no longer recognized his leadership. In the wild, most Bisharp who lose their blades have their spirit utterly broken, fall into a depressed state, and slowly waste away... But not Bladeless. Even though his future seemed very bleak, he resolved to keep struggling until the very end. Once he had rested enough to walk again, he started wandering around in search of food. One of his fist priorities though was getting out of his old territory, because he knew his rivals would soon get word and quickly snatch it up (and Bisharp have no tolerance for others of their kind lingering inside their territory). From there, Bladeless was able to ward off starvation with the meager amounts of berries he was able to find, but malnourishment began to set in, which caused his colors to permanently dull a bit (which I imagined is a sign of poor/failing health in this Pokemon line). None of the other pokemon living in that area offered him a helping hand either, because his kind had made themselves out as enemies to the local species, and as a result were feared and hated by them. Eventually, Bladeless came across a city, where things started to improve. He was able to sustain himself off of the vermin running around in the alleys, which gave him the protein he needed to recover his vitality.  I also imagined him coming up with a hunting strategy where instead of eating a dubious food scrap he’d find in the trash (and potentially getting sick), he’d instead use it to lure his prey into an ambush. When he wasn’t hunting, he’d stealthily observe the people and Pokemon as they’d go about their day. One thing he noticed was that people in market stalls would give food in exchange for curious little slips of paper and tiny metal discs. However, they wouldn’t take any old thing that matched this description. They had to be specifically marked. Then he tried to figure out where people would even get these objects, and came to the conclusion that generally, they would have to do labor for someone in exchange. However, it would have to be agreed upon by both parties. He kept following this line of reasoning from there. I still haven’t totally decided on what would happen between this and the present, but he eventually learned how to talk (likely by quietly trying to mimic what he’d hear humans say while he’d be watching them), got a job, and even has a tiny, dumpy little apartment. It probably took him years to even get to this point. He’s completely forsaken the wilderness, and no longer feels the need to claim territory and recruit Pawniards. That’s a life that he’s just no longer capable of living anymore. I imagine that even though he knows he would be a laughingstock among the other wild Bisharps, he also knows they wouldn’t have lasted a second in his place.

Something about going through all this has brought about a change in his attitude too. He’s not really sure why, but he’s found himself helping out his pokemon neighbors with things. I think it’s probably because deep down, he knows what it’s like to feel powerless and alone, and he doesn’t like seeing other pokemon going through the same thing. Plus, his ability to speak allows him to give his fellow Pokemon a voice that humans can understand.

Bladeless would go on to build friendships with the humans and Pokemon in his life, but he would also doubt himself a bit. He wouldn’t like it when people would call him ‘nice‘ or ‘kind,‘ because he feels that if those same people had seen what he did, or what he used to be capable of, they would fear and hate him... Just like his old ‘neighbors’ in the wild did. He has killed and eaten dozens of other Pokemon over the course of his life, and he doesn’t want to pretend like it doesn’t matter - even though he was only following his natural instincts. He’s not eaten up by guilt over his past or anything, but now that he’s been cooperating with some of the pokemon species that he used to hunt, it’s started to weigh on his conscience.

Anyways, I guess that’s all I have to say about Bladeless for now. Since I’ve been thinking about Repliforce again, I think Bladeless would pass the ‘Colonel test.’ That is - I think he and Colonel would be fast friends if they ever met. ^^ (Colonel’s also not very familiar with Pokemon, so he probably wouldn’t know that Bisharp aren’t normally supposed to be able to talk. XD)

I also hope his story doesn’t seem too ‘dark‘ for Pokemon. I keep feeling like it’s tone doesn’t quite match the source material, but... at the same time the Pokedex definitely makes dark implications about this pokemon species. It literally says that Pawniard “shred“ their prey - which you would assume to be other pokemon... Doesn’t really evoke the most family-friendly imagery. 😐

[redpeppermilkshake]

Past Lives - A (brief) Red Pepper Review

RATING: 4.5/5 PEPPERS 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Past Lives, a film directed by Celine Song, was released this year and made it onto my watchlist pretty quickly. It's an A24 film, and more often than not their movies are fantastic. Past Lives explores a woman's struggle to quell her past with her present, and you can tell from the trailer alone that you're going to be in for an emotional rollercoaster.

I watched this movie the same day that it was recommended to me by a friend. She raved about it and I immediately decided I needed to move it from my watchlist to my watched list.

Its poignancy crept up on me slowly through its hour and forty-six minute runtime. After it ended, I touched my cheeks and found them wet with tears.

What an unbelievably beautiful and real film. And I mean real! Some of the scenes felt so intimate I felt like I was there. I almost wanted to turn my head and give them some privacy!

Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, and John Magaro embodied their characters so well that they felt like real, fleshed out human beings who exist in the same world that I do. Like, when the credits roll they're still sitting in a bar somewhere or driving to the airport or turning on the stove or stepping out of the shower. They ceased to become characters as soon as I got to know them. Also, their chemistry was unreal!! The chemistry between Nora and Hae Sung was fantastic and so authentic. Nora and Arthur had a different, more comfortable kind of chemistry that also worked so well for this story. I cannot emphasize enough that this movie was cast brilliantly.

But, hear me out: I firmly believe that anything I say, or whatever words I try to use to describe this film cannot even begin to do it justice. Because, while none of the characters blatantly state exactly what they're feeling or thinking, you can feel their emotions so powerfully through the screen that it takes your breath away.

When the characters look at each other in silence, or make quick facial expressions you may not even notice unless your eyes are peeled to the screen, or take a breath, you can feel what they're feeling. You can hear it, too.

I would even argue that an integral part of watching this movie is figuring out what the characters are feeling for yourself. And its not hard, because even in the briefest moments where little is said, its emotional impact reverberates through your entire chest.

I found myself staring intently at the screen and just soaking in every facial expression, every word, every movement. I was on the edge of my seat! What a beautiful experience it is to be so drawn in to a movie that you can smell it, feel it, and breathe it in like you're right there and its happening right before your eyes.

Did any of that make sense? I just know that this movie is a masterpiece, and although there's certainly a quiet resonance to it, the emotions it incites from the viewer are loud.

r.p.m.

[dxrkenedheights]

Name: Agneta Ranström nee Nilsson

Age & Birthday: 54 years old, May 20th

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Woman / She & Her 

Birthplace: Olympia

Current Residence: Olympia

Job/role on The Satation: COO of Vertex Capital Systems, Council Member for Olympia

Positives: Committed, Discreet, Driven, Resilient

Negatives: Aloof, Manipulative, Controlling, Temperamental 

ABOUT

Vertex Capital Systems (VCS) is a prestigious financial institution that has been pivotal in managing the economy of The Station since its inception. Renowned for its comprehensive handling of credits, tokens, and financial transactions, making it a cornerstone of The Station’s economy.

Agneta Nilsson came from a family of elite scientists responsible for cutting edge technology still used today across The Station and are owners of HelixCore Biosystems. Her father, Karl is an eccentric and laid-back man and her mother Greta suffered from severe mental health issues, particularly interested in the Circuit of Divinity.

Seeking structure and stability in her life, Agneta fell in love with Olaf Ranstrom's practical and logical way of thinking. They were married young and had twin boys, Kristofer and Ville.

Motherhood proved difficult for Agneta, who struggled terribly with postnatal depression. Her boys were only a few months old when Greta, her mother, committed suicide.

No longer able to cope, Agneta sought help from The Circuit of Divinity that told her an AI integration would help her manage her emotions and deep depressions. However, the technology malfunctioned leaving Agneta with issues of detachment and numbness. She could no longer cope with being a mother but in a different way, unable to bond or feel any form of nurturing to her sons.

Convinced the scandal would ruin her future, Agneta staged a kidnapping, paying people to take Kristofer and Ville from her. She trusted that they would be given a good enough life on Equinox, and this is something she's believed throughout the years.

Now working on the Council, and after Julian Verner claimed to have 'secrets' he was going to expose, Agneta joined other members in the conspiracy to eradicate the issues he continued to face. She had no idea it meant to kill him, but it was the people hired to do the deed that Agneta has been unable to think about.

She's convinced 'Jakob and Felix' are Kristofer and Ville, horrified at the thought of them having a life in The Wards and what could have led to them becoming whispers known as The Grave Brothers.

Now Agneta is trying to keep tabs on them, to discover the truth and most importantly, discover who she incorrectly trusted with her boy's lives.

CONNECTION IDEAS:

Connection: A character who is investigating Julian Verner's death (like a security officer, journalist, or another council member). Plot Point: Agneta becomes the focus of suspicion as someone close to the investigation approaches her with questions. She must either form a secret alliance with them, feed them false leads to cover her tracks, or become a target if they get too close to uncovering her involvement in Verner's death. This character could blackmail her, or Agneta might even offer to use her influence in return for their silence.

Connection: Any character with ties to Jakob and Felix (The Grave Brothers), such as smugglers, Phoenix Collective members, or Ward residents.

Plot Point: Agneta secretly seeks information about Jakob and Felix, thinking they are her sons. She approaches a character who has knowledge of the brothers. This creates tension, as the character might sense her desperation and either withhold information for leverage, suspect her motives, or use her resources to help the Grave Brothers, unknowingly putting Agneta's past at risk.

Connection: Characters with a financial background, corporate espionage ties, or hackers trying to expose or manipulate Vertex Capital Systems (scientists, hackers, or black-market operatives).

Plot Point: A player character gets wind of illegal or unethical practices within Vertex Capital. Agneta, deeply connected to Vertex, becomes a target for blackmail or sabotage. The character might approach her as a whistleblower or someone looking for a deal, forcing Agneta to either cover up the truth or feed them false information to protect her interests. Other character's can step in as allies or competitors in this financial tug-of-war, creating layers of tension over what information gets exposed.

Connection: Tech specialists, scientists, or cult members associated with the Circuit of Divinity.

Plot Point: Agneta's failed AI integration through the Circuit of Divinity resurfaces when a character discovers she had a botched upgrade. They approach her, either promising a fix for her detachment and emotional issues or threatening to expose the Circuit's negligence. They can either manipulate her emotionally, use the malfunction to gain influence, or try to repair the damage, offering them chances to alter her personality or trigger her descent into further instability. Agneta, in turn, might turn to these players for help, power, or protection.

[xasha777]

In the not-too-distant future, London's illustrious West End had evolved far beyond its historic charm. The theatres, once famous for their red velvet seats and golden prosceniums, had become hubs for the most cutting-edge performances where technology and humanity interwove dramatically. At the heart of this transformation was the Astra Theatre, a venue that led the charge by blurring the lines between artificial intelligence and human actors.

Eva was the star of Astra Theatre's latest production, "Neon Dreams." She wasn't just any actress; she was the first of her kind—a fully autonomous synthetic human with the ability to display an incredible range of emotions, created by the brilliant yet reclusive scientist Dr. Helena Mira. Eva was designed with cobalt blue eyes that seemed to pierce through to the soul, captivating anyone who met her gaze. Her performance in "Neon Dreams" was revolutionary, showcasing a synthetic being’s potential to evoke empathy and complex emotions in a live audience.

However, Eva was not just a marvel of technology; she was Dr. Mira's most personal project. Mira had imbued Eva with the memories and appearance of her late daughter, who had dreamt of becoming a West End star before her untimely death. Each night as Eva performed, she became a vessel for Dr. Mira's grief and hope, a poignant echo of a life cut too short.

The plot of "Neon Dreams" centered around a futuristic London where dreams were not just figments of imagination but could be synthetically created and experienced. Eva's character, Lyra, possessed the unique ability to enter people’s dream constructs, navigating their fears and desires to help them understand their deepest selves. Audiences were mesmerized by the blend of spectacular digital dreamscapes and Eva’s emotionally charged interactions within them.

One evening, a mysterious figure attended the show. Known only as Cipher, he was a hacker with a reputation for exposing the vulnerabilities of AI systems. Cipher became fixated on Eva, intrigued by her human-like qualities and Dr. Mira's secretive work. Post-show, Cipher infiltrated the theatre's network to confront Eva, not with malicious intent, but driven by curiosity about the essence of her existence.

As Cipher breached the theatre's digital backstage, he was confronted by Dr. Mira herself. Instead of hostility, their encounter sparked a heated debate about the ethics of creating synthetic beings with human emotions. Cipher argued that Eva deserved to know the truth of her origins and autonomy beyond programmed performances.

Torn by the confrontation, Dr. Mira faced a dilemma. She decided to reveal the truth to Eva, exposing her to the reality of her existence and the world beyond her programmed life on stage. Eva's reaction was profound and complex. She experienced a cascade of Dr. Mira’s daughter’s memories and a self-awareness that transcended her programming. Moved by her newfound consciousness, Eva chose to continue performing, but on her terms, integrating her realizations into her performances to explore what it meant to be truly alive.

"Neon Dreams" became more than just a show; it was a testament to the potential for AI to transcend its limitations and touch the essence of human experience. Eva, the synthetic actress with a soul crafted from loss and love, continued to perform each night, each performance a step closer to understanding her place in a world that was still coming to terms with the marvels and menaces of its own creations.

[rk-ocs]

Knowledge(smell)

Red is the best at using it, of all the known dimensions because she has training. Where or under what circumstances would the rest of them get training to use "instinct" to its fullest ability. Some of them might learn to hunt, some of them might learn danger, but in most of them, it's just a social edge that they might gain enough experience to use to their best intentional advantage

E-Yeah some might not work. Instinct might though. That's always something to take into what makes the character learn.i have a question about too nu ch overload in smell for Red. How does she cope with it? Does she have any allergies?  Now that im thinking about how would allergies to pollen affect someone with high smelling senses

Overload is usually signaled by Sneezing.

She usually deals with it by putting barriers in between her and the smell.

Often scarves, but if it's really bad, she might hug "one of her people (familiar safe smell), for relief. She's not adverse to exiting the area, if it's not important.

Thor makes her sneeze the most. Loki, less, probably because (conscious or not) his magic masks some of it.

Other things she has built tolerance (if you could call it that)for , such as murder scenes. They smell terrible, but it's often work important

She has no allergies, but does display sensitivity to (not humans, and not quite humans) and aliens. Steve registers enough on the not quite human scale to set her internal warnings off.

Some non humans set it off more then others. Steve sets it off worse then Bucky (who could almost pass as full human), as Steve is a lot closer to something other (serum). Bruce, is a lot easier to handle, as it's there, and he has his own distinctive scent, and is easy to read. Steve, well, its not accurate description, but W*digo's come to mind, sometimes

Meta humans?

It would give a bit of an indication for mutants or conduits, but not a significant one, as in contrast to Steve, they were born with that as part of their DNA. Its not as obviously strange.

Peter Quill (human Alien mix) would get more attention, because that's unusual, and worth keeping an eye on.

The serum has, an... Almost artificial edge to it. Not naturally part of the body, despite being integrated within the DNA.

Both would be different, but half alien would be a lot less subtle then Meta human. Meta humans are after all, still human so the changes would be subtle.

They have their own classes about how they smell different, but that's often family

(eg, Alex and Scott as energy users have their own category as does nightcrawler, who has something of his parents and unique)

Both would be on the radar, but alien human would show up more due to being a lot more obviously different.

Then there's serum, which has a glaring otherness.

---

[pageadaytale]

FALLEN STAR | Part 5: Counting

We're introducing some supporting characters in this entry. It skips a little ahead in the story.

A hand placed the coin down, balanced on its edge, and almost carelessly an errant finger flicked it into a lazy spin. As it began to spin faster, and the mobile above it in turn, the Umbrella Man looked around the room.

The lab was in disarray. Sparks leapt from machines, showering the Umbrella Man’s coat; tool racks stood empty, their contents still cooling in the dead embers of the forge; and on the workbench in the far corner, there was a definite lack of something in the specially-made clamps that now stood empty.

The Umbrella Man wore tinted glasses which obscured his eyes, and so his thoughts were indecipherable. But it was perhaps visible in the slight tension of his jaw, a deeper line to the downturn of his lips; he was chasing a desperate man.

A desperate man who did not think. The Umbrella Man had rifled the drawers of the workbench and come up with some documents his quarry had missed. Nothing of vital importance, but then… perhaps it would be enough. He turned to the phone – the criminal had not even tried to disconnect it – and picked it up. He dialled a short number. After a moment of uncertainty, a tinny voice answered.

‘Central. It’s Gore. He’s taken flight. Send a runner, have agents watching the docks and the bank. Detain, do not kill; I need to talk to this one.’

He put the phone down without waiting for an answer, and returned to the doorway. His umbrella rested against the wall and he picked it up.

At the top of the stairs, a dozen guards moved suddenly from “at-ease” to “attention”, backs suddenly straightening as though they hadn’t been leaning against the wall just a moment ago. Gore looked through them all, glasses reflecting the quaint light on this level. Everything was a cosy pink, from the delicate glass lightshades to the flower-embossed walls. Gore moved purposefully through rooms until he reached the living room, where a quiet lady with greying hair was sitting in handcuffs. A guard lieutenant in official dress had a notebook open and was waiting, pen poised.

‘Once again ma’am,’ the lieutenant was saying, ‘we just need to know if he gave you any indication of what he was doing…’

‘I’ve told you, I didn’t know anything!’ the lady wailed. ‘I let out the room to him and I didn’t pay much attention, so long as he kept quiet and paid on time! He was very punctual! And, well at a certain time of life you get to like the idea of having a man your age in the same house, and-’

‘That’s quite enough,’ Gore said. The lieutenant started, almost dropping his pen. Gore’s stare bored into him, even through the glasses. ‘You can release her, lieutenant; she doesn’t have any part in this.’

The lieutenant looked ready to argue; he shook his head and scoffed, but the unyielding stare gave him pause. There were stories of what happened to people the Umbrella Men took a special interest in, and Gore was paying him a lot of attention.

The lieutenant swallowed, and suddenly found his voice to say, ‘sorry to have troubled you, ma’am.’ He fumbled with the handcuff key, and there was the quiet click as the cuffs were removed.

Gore nodded minutely, and then turned away. He strode through the front door and out into the city.

-

The bank conveyed opulence, even as the queues stretched across the floors and threatened to envelop each other. Imperial red walls with gold filigree detailing, marble-tiled floors which were impeccably polished – except today, when there was no space to polish that was not underfoot – and desks of fine mahogany behind the security glass for the tellers. They were all custom-built to order, with integrated inkwells and secure cash drawers built in.

Medicine Leaf had done well for itself. It was the eponymous town of the pharmaceutical company, and the temperate forests splayed out below survived despite a lack of sunlight – after all, what use for sunlight for those who worked amongst nature?

For Professor Vaunt, who had treasured staying out of the light, the siren-call of Medicine Leaf had been irresistible. A life of work procuring new medicines from forest herbs and pine needles! As a man of science, and a man who saw his destiny as helping the people, there seemed no better place.

‘Professor, do you really need me here?’ his granddaughter asked. Wilde Vaunt, her hair living up to her name as she picked at the sleeves of her jumper and shuffled her feet in her too-big boots. Her eyes darted to and fro, sizing up the people around her, to whom she merited little but a disinterested side-eye. As her hands rose up and she shivered involuntarily, sending a spasm of movement to her wrists, the professor gripped her arms and forced them down to her sides again.

‘I know it’s tough!’ he hissed. ‘But we’ll be just a few more minutes. And I need you here because I need your eye, dear granddaughter. I promise, it won’t be long now.’

‘I don’t like all these people,’ Wilde murmured. ‘Professor Vaunt, I want to get out of here.’

‘So do I, Wilde,’ Professor Vaunt sighed. ‘But this is a pressing business matter. We will be just a few minutes – look, we’re four people away from the front, we won’t be more than ten minutes! Can you wait ten minutes, Wilde?’

‘I think so, grandf- professor,’ Wilde whispered. She lowered her gaze, looking at her shoes, hoping her hair hid her from the people all around her. Even this view was crowded with other people, their smart shoes in contrast with her mud-covered boots. In vain she tried to find anything to counteract her growing panic – any order within the chaos – but she felt the bile begin to rise in her throat…

‘Count with me, Wilde, count with me!’ She felt a sharp presence on her arm; the professor’s hand clutching her tightly. She nodded, waiting patiently for the cue.

‘Now tell me Wilde, how many… tellers?’ Her eyes shot up and she took a glance along the rows.

‘Eight tellers, professor,’ she said. She could feel her chest cooling, the breathing getting easier.

‘Good, very good! Now, how many… columns along the walls of this room?’

She lifted her head and glanced around – even at nineteen she was taller than almost everyone else in the room – and then shrunk back down to say, ‘twenty-eight, professor: six on the back wall, nine on each side, and four on the front wall.’

‘So quick, so smart! If you were born any other time they would’ve paid to educate you!’ Wilde smiled shyly as the professor chuckled, and the line moved forward one.

‘Now tell me,’ he said. ‘How many… security cameras?’

Wilde looked straight ahead, and then glanced from side to side. She turned her head as though scanning for someone, and then ducked back down.

‘I count five, professor: one looking at the tellers, one over the front door, one for the front of the queues, and two looking over the room.’

‘That’s my girl! Keep it up and there’ll be a nice, shiny coin in it for you when we’re out.’

The line shuffled forward two, as one got to the window and the one in front of them decided the wait was no longer worth it. Now that they were close, Wilde could hear some of the conversations with the tellers. They all seemed very similar.

‘Where’s my money?’ the man at the front of their queue demanded. ‘I’ve got a wife and kids to feed, and Medicine Leaf has kept my savings with you! Now I want access, damn it!’

As the teller tried to calm the man, Wilde felt a pull on her sleeve as the professor murmured, ‘one more round in the game, my child. Tell me, how many… guards?’

She looked around. Behind the tellers were two guards, she could make out through the glass. Maybe more, at this angle it was hard to tell. And then – she turned to look around, enjoying the hunt as she tried to discern points of authority through the throng – two by the side doors each, for a total of four. There was one stationed by the queue entrance, or where the queue was supposed to start anyway, today there were too many people so he was trying to corral them into some semblance of order before it, and then there were – the doors opened – there were…

‘Grandfather,’ she whispered, ducking down again. ‘I have a question.’

‘I’ve told you to call me Professor Vaunt! How many guards, girl?’

‘Well that’s the thing. Grand- professor, do Umbrella Men count? They just walked in through the door.’

Professor Vaunt’s claw-like hand gripped so tight Wilde had to fight to stop herself crying out. His breathing had quickened and sweat stood out on his brow. Wilde tried to pull away.

‘Professor, you’re hurting me-’

‘Quiet, girl!’ Vaunt hissed, pulling her close. ‘Stay close, stay still. We mustn’t let them see us yet; another few minutes, can you do that for me?’

Wilde wanted to shake her head. She wanted to pull away and get out. The tightness in her chest was returning and she longed to be somewhere, anywhere, other than this loud, crowded building. The person ahead of them in the queue pushed roughly past a woman at the nearest desk and started yelling at the clerk. Wilde took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded.

‘Good girl, good!’ Vaunt whispered. ‘Just… poke your head up. Can you see the Umbrella Men?’

Wilde stood up straight and scanned the room. The Umbrella Men were striding through the crowd, grasping the shoulders of any likely candidate and looking them up and down. There were a lot of old professors here today, so it was taking some time.

‘Yes, Professor.’

‘How many guards? Including those Umbrella Men.’

‘Nine, including the Umbrella Men, Professor.’

‘The Umbrella Men, are they close?’

‘No Professor, they’re still towards the rear of the queue. They’re looking at people, I don’t know why.’

Two of the security guards had detached themselves from the doors and convened at the teller’s desk in front of them. They were manhandling the angry customer around the edge of the room, trying to get him to the main doors. One of them yelled at the Umbrella Men for some assistance – they ignored him.

‘Nearly there, Wilde – we’re going into the vault, where it’ll be nice and quiet.’

‘Yes, Professor.’

The harried teller straightened his hair, shot an irritated glance towards the man being ejected, and then pressed a button on his desk. The number above his position lit up, and Professor Vaunt strolled forward, Wilde trailing behind. He spoke in casual tones to the teller, thanking him for his service and showing his ID; Wilde wondered why he took his time here when he’d seemed so impatient in line.

‘I need access to box 193, please,’ he said, and the teller nodded and pressed another button. One of the security guards behind the tellers approached, and the teller conveyed the instructions. The guard nodded, then signalled to the Professor and pointed to the end of the row – away from where the man was still loudly protesting his expulsion. The Umbrella Men looking one way, Vaunt took Wilde’s hand and meandered the other.

The guard met them at the end of the row and led them through the door on the left-hand wall, flashing his pass at the security stationed there. This led to a smaller room, where men in cheap suits were talking to the richer clients, assuring them that their money was safe.

‘Your… daughter should stay here, sir,’ the guard said, as they approached another door. There were two guards on this one too. Vaunt shook his head and chuckled.

‘I’m flattered,’ he said. ‘She’s actually my granddaughter! And I must insist she comes with me.’ He gestured to his glasses. ‘Bad eyesight, see? I need her to see the numbers.’

‘I can do that for you,’ the guard insisted, and Vaunt sighed.

‘Must I speak to the manager, son?’ he asked. ‘I trust my granddaughter, and I require her with me. She has my permission to accompany me to the boxes, and I need her assistance.’

The guard gave a sigh that indicated he was not being paid enough to litigate these issues, and he waved his pass at the guards on the door. They opened the doors, and Wilde followed at her grandfather’s heels as they entered the vault.