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narrans · 5 months ago

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Stellar Allies | Part Two

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part Two

Words: Grit, Warmth, Foggy, Experiment, Honey, Lost, Doubt

It was mind boggling. Was this actually happening? There was something that looked like a weird spaceship in the form of a cylindrical tube the color of liquid mercury with a tiny figure inside – an alien.

Jax and Cliff both simultaneously reached up and pinched their forearms, mirroring the motion as if it were planned.

Swallowing the nerves that was making him tremble, Jax carefully secured the tongs onto the edge of the silver cylinder and began pulling it away from its original crash site. Cliff said nothing and instinctually maneuvered out of the way so that Jax could pull the ship in between the two of them safely away from the flames.

The looked down, gawking at what was inside. There, inside of the silver cylinder, was a six inch tall figure. Their limbs were limp, and they were wearing what looked like some kind of black mesh and leather flight suit. Cliff counted two arms, two legs, one head, and most interestingly another limb that made him think it might be some kind of tail. There was a dark helmet secured to their head, but it was obvious there was a crack along the surface.

Is that what was causing some of the hissing sound? Or was it just the ship? Cliff wondered as he crouched a little lower to examine the ship.

Tiny lights flashed and blinked all around the padded interior. Symbols on a screen flashed intermittently, but neither boy had any indication of what that could mean.

“Is it… dead?” asked Jax as he began reaching the tongs forward. Cliff was about to scold him for using the tongs on the figure, but was relieved when his friend merely grabbed the edge of the cylinder and gave it a little shake.

Both boys nearly leapt out of their skin when they saw the most minute movement from the figure’s chest and the head twitch subtly. They knew it wasn’t because of the movement of the cylinder that caused the movement, meaning this alien was alive. Cliff’s fascination was making him tingly all over, and the shaking in his friend’s shoulders told him Jax was feeling the same way.

“Dude!” hissed Jax. “There’s an alien. A freakin’ alien! Do you know how dope this is!? We might be the first to make contact with an alien species.”

“Allegedly,” grinned Cliff. Both boys exchanged an amused look, having read up on dozens of conspiracies and “abduction accounts” during their research, before turning their attention back to the figure.

“Do you think it’s hurt? Can it even breathe oxygen? All of these things are leaking and stuff, and we do not have the equipment to make an environmental chamber suited for it if it doesn’t breathe oxygen at our atmospheric levels,” fretted Cliff. Jax noticed the crack in the alien’s helmet and his brow furrowed. He was obviously trying to think of a good solution, as was Cliff.

“Okay, let’s assume for a second that it can breathe oxygen. I’m basing this off of the fact that it took us thirty minutes or so to get here and this ship-pod thing has probably been open this whole time. Unless this thing doesn’t abide by the rule of threes, it can probably breathe in our atmosphere,” stated Jax.

His friend was right. Cliff remembered the rule of threes being three weeks without food, three days without water or sleep, three hours in a harsh environment, and, the most important for this argument, three minutes unconscious without breathable air while unconscious.

“Okay, assuming these things are true,” added Cliff. “Then we can assume that this ship-pod thing wouldn’t open if the environment wasn’t ideal. I’m basing this off the fact that a species capable of interstellar travel would have the tech and wherewithal to make sure a survival pod wouldn’t open in harmful conditions.”

“So, at the moment, we’re assuming the alien is stable,” concluded Jax. Cliff nodded affirmatively. “Okay, then the next big question is what do we do next? Assuming the online conspiracy theories are right and everything, the government might want to experiment on the little guy. On the other hand, this might be part of a scouting mission or invasion force. This is just starting to get complicated, and I don’t want this thing face hugging me in the middle of the night and implanting little chest bursting aliens in my throat.”

This was ultimately the biggest question they had to contend with. Was there a “right” choice? They were far out of their depth when it came to preparedness and knowledge. It was a judgment call which had countless unforeseen repercussions.

What was the right thing to do?

Cliff chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought, a nervous habit that often left him tasting iron by the time he came up with a solution. Both points Jax made were valid, but it was clear to him which one felt like the right thing to do; and he had the argument to back it up.

“I think… we take our chances and bring him with us back home.” Jax’s eyes widened as he listened to his friend’s words. It was obvious, even beneath the mask, that he was about to interject, so Cliff continued. “Hear me out. Just look at this tube for a second. Do you see any weapons? Do you see anything on here that might indicate anything other than life support? And what about our little alien companion? Any weapons? Side arms?

“I think this whole thing is supposed to be an escape pod and that our little alien was either in danger from his crew mates and had to evacuate using this escape pod or something happened to the original ship, which is probably the bigger chunk of burning mass that was falling from the sky that we thought was a meteor, like a technical malfunction. Either way, I think at least this little guy here is safe. This is just a theory though. I could be horribly wrong, but that’s what my gut is telling me.”

Jax listened patiently to his friend’s logic and, after a few minutes, nodded.

“Your argument is sound enough, but on the off chance this guy has acid blood or some kind of weapon, is there something we can… I don’t know… put him in for the time being?” asked Jax. Then, his eyes brightened. “Wait, our experiments from last year. We’ve got those plastic containers.”

“My thoughts exactly,” concurred Cliff. “We’ve got those ULINE poly tubs and, worst case scenario, mom has some catering equipment in the shed that is probably acid resistant. Until then, we’ll just have to take our chances.”

Their nerves set back in as they suddenly realized what it was they needed to do next – transport the alien. Both of them with their backpacks were prepared to move rocks, not miniscule alien beings. Still, they had few options available at the moment.

“Okay,” said Jax finally. “I’ll do the transportation and we’ll keep him at your place. Mom is inspecting my room tomorrow to see if I’ve cleaned so now is a bad time for me. If something bad happens, we tell parents and everyone who’ll listen. Yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” breathed Cliff. Jax, obviously shaking, removed his backpack and shifted some of his things to Cliff’s bag to give the most space possible for the space pod. The boys worked together to tape part of the pod open so it wouldn’t close on the figure or accidentally seal shut during transportation.

They also tried to secure the figure by gently laying some of their emergency duct tape along the opening across the figure’s legs and chest and securing it to either side of the opened pod. The moment of truth came and Jax’s brave face was threatening to crack. It was Cliff’s reassuring bump on his shoulder that really pushed Jax over the edge and away from his uncertainty.

Using his heat resistant gloves, Jax lifted the pod off of the ground and slid it into his backpack, using what little padding he had as well as his jacket to make sure the pod didn’t jostle around too much.

The entire time, the figure only stirred twice, but made no additional movements even as Jax zippered his pack shut. Before leaving, Cliff made sure to tamp out all of the smoldering brush to prevent potential environmental hazards.

And with that, they were off. Neither of them knew what was going to happen or how they were going to navigate the countless decisions before them. One thing they did know was that this decision felt right, and they had their logic to back it up.

They could only hope they were right.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Warmth.

Foggy.

Groggy.

Pain.

Cold.

Confusion.

Ol’oih wasn’t sure which thing he felt more. The confusion of everything leading up to him blacking out felt like a bad dream, and the pain in his body made the experience real. It was a souvenir of recent events, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

He could’ve sworn he heard voices at some point, but he couldn’t be sure. They were loud and booming, but also muffled. Was that because his hearing was damaged? Was it his life support helmet? Or was this actually how the voices were supposed to sound?

There was a fair amount of jostling all around him and, at some point, he was once again stationary. Every element of training told him he needed to be awake and aware, but his body was absolutely no help in this endeavor. He just needed to rest to heal and, ultimately, that was the logical choice too.

Ol’oih knew that he would be no use to himself or any one of his crew mates if he was incapacitated and hurting. So, he relented and let himself sleep.

When he returned to consciousness, however, he wasn’t sure if he had made the correct decision to rest. For a moment, he thought he was still beneath the night sky until he realized that the “stars” above him weren’t stars but merely beams of light. He was surrounded by darkness all around except for the little dots of light above him.

Another thing he noticed was that his helmet had a massive crack along the screen, breaking the airtight seal and exposing him to the atmosphere. He thanked Ove silently that this atmosphere was a friendly one and not something that was toxic. He’d be out of luck if that were the case. The rest of his limbs felt intact, albeit stiff, and he was laying on something that was soft that wasn’t the safety of his escape pod.

A thousand questions came to mind.

What happened when he blacked out? Where was his crew? Were they alright? Were they the ones who found him? Or did something – someone – else find him and bring him here? Had he been captured? Was he now someone’s experiment? Or had he been rescued from the crash? Where even was he? Had they even managed to crash near the rendezvous point?

His body thrummed nervously as he allowed his feelings of doubt to overwhelm him before taking two deep breaths, as he had learned in his training, before collecting his thoughts and worrying about one problem at a time. It was all he could do. Getting through this was going to take grit and determination, and laying there being afraid was not a luxury he could afford at the moment.

First problem was his ability to see. His vision was still a bit foggy, but that probably had something to do with his helmet and the lack of light around him. He had something for that, but he’d need to remove part of his suit. It was a risk he needed to take.

Ol’oih extended his arm forward, feeling it twinge slightly, to make sure he wasn’t going to sit up into a wall or ceiling. Confirming his surroundings, Ol’oih cautiously sat up and detached the clasps keeping his helmet affixed to his suit and pulled his helmet off of his head.

Now free, he realized he was feeing a bit woozy. He hadn’t had anything to eat in who knew how long and would need to consume something soon if he was going to survive. Everything cost precious energy, even what he was about to do to see his surroundings, and he needed to ration correctly if he was going to get out of this ordeal alive.

His body thrummed again, but he shut down his feelings of nervousness as he focused on the task at hand. Ol’oih reached up and removed one of his protective gloves and concentrated on the ciferi in his hand. Like he’d done so many times in his youth, the ridges leading from his core to the tips of his four fingers began to glow a soft green, illuminating the space around him.

What he saw made a pit form in his core.

All around him were portless, doorless walls with odd ridges along the top which undoubtedly latched the roof to the rest of the structure. Nothing else was in the containment unit other than what Ol’oih was sitting on, which resembled a type of white growth similar to this planet’s moss. The item didn’t seem alike like the white growths from his home, so he elected to stay sitting.

Being close enough to touch the walls, Ol’oih hesitantly gave the wall a push. Though it didn’t give easily, there was an element to it that was extremely synthetic as well as flexible. With the right nudge, Ol’oih thought he might be able to use it to his advantage.

I need to measure the space and estimate how tall this thing is. If whatever put me in here is hostile, I need to be able to jump out if I can. It’ll take energy, so I need to use my opportunities wisely.

So, with that in mind, Ol’oih stood and walked to the far wall. He pressed his back against it before walking at a steady pace from one side to the next, using his gate as a measurement. He repeated this for the width and then reached as high as he could to guestimate the height of the container he was in.

Okay, twelve ambas wide, thirty-seven long, and probably twenty or so wide? 8880 sambas. Great. I won’t run out of air, plus the holes in the top should allow air inside. No suffocation. My standing jump is twelve. Running might be fifteen? Using my addon, I could probably hook it along the top and swing to get out if I really needed to.

Last resort though. Lots of energy to do something like that. Plus, that’s if I need to escape. If I can, I will communicate my intentions. About time I’m able to practice my practical language skills. Years of study and simulations finally paying off.

Looks like being a communication ensign actually is coming in handy.

This thought made Ol’oih tremor nervously. Though everyone had basic language in the program, he was the only one of their crew who was fluent. If the others were in trouble, they’d have no true way to communicate.

In the middle of his swirling thoughts and feelings of being completely and utterly lost, Ol’oih was suddenly interrupted as the entire container around him shifted. The sudden jostle threw him to the side and then to all fours as there was a cacophonous cracking sound.

Juthez! Out of time to make a plan. Can’t pretend to go back to sleep. No sense in that. I need answers and assistance. Looks like communication is my only option. Juthez! Please be friendly.

The thrumming wracking Ol’oih’s body was making him feel completely sick and cold, but he knew this was necessary. The doubt in his mind would have to be pushed to the side for the time being. Skill alone was what he had to rely on, and he could only hope it would be enough.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Both boys had managed to make it to Cliff’s home without disturbing his parents. Jax was the one brave enough to lift the six inch tall figure of the alien out of the pod and into the plastic storage container while Cliff arranged a towel for a bed, arguing that it would be cruel for the alien to just be on the hard ground when he could be injured.

Jax went home and immediately cleaned his room while Cliff kept the storage container under his desk with the lid fastened securely. He tried going back to sleep, but knowing there was an alien mere feet from his bed was enough to keep the teen away from sleep for the next week.

It would be hours before Jax reached out saying his room had passed inspection and another twenty minutes before Cliff’s parents were awake and preparing to go to work. He’d asked if it was okay if Jax came over, to which his parents agreed as long as they didn’t perform any science experiments.

Cliff felt like he was lying by omission by saying he and Jax wouldn’t be doing any science experiments since they would be investigating the alien, but he deemed that as a scientific investigation and not an experiment and agreed. With his assurance, his parents left for work and Jax was over within minutes.

He had barely crossed the threshold before the questions started coming out.

“Has the alien woken up? Have you checked on him? Do we know if it’s a him? What if he doesn’t wake up? Are you as stoked as I am because I’m literally vibrating all over!” Jax’s inability to contain his excitement was hilarious and he quickly pulled his friend inside his house.

“Dude, just take a breath. Yeah, I’m stoked too, but we need to chill. If the alien reads emotions and stuff like that, he might get spooked. This is a friendly check-up and possible exchange of information, possibly with the first alien in history. Oh, who am I kidding, I’m shaking all over. I couldn’t even go back to sleep,” grinned Cliff.

“Me too!” Jax’s grin was stretching from ear to ear. Cliff knew his expression had to be the same to the point his cheeks were starting to hurt. “So, do we check on him now? Or what?”

“Only logical,” agreed Cliff. “If he’s still passed out, then we can investigate the ship, which is still safely under the bed. If he’s awake, we can commence Operation: First Contact.”

“Nerd,” teased Jax, getting the reference immediately, as both teens made their way to Cliff’s room. What started as a confident stride immediately shifted to cautiously optimistic steps as they shuffled into Cliff’s room and crouched by the hard plastic crate. As carefully as they could, they pulled the crate out from under the desk.

As they did, both boys felt the crate jostle subtly, as if something fell over, and let their excitement override caution as they cracked open the top of the crate. Light flooded into the crate, and, for the first time, they saw someone looking back at them.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

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gxodnightkiss · 10 months ago

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i was wondering if you have any ocs of just like make up a character for a story. if you do then maybe can you write please a submissive yandere boy who's your classmate that would do anything for you and is shy x dominant female/ gn reader ? t

You don't have to ofc i was just wondering sorry if this is super weird😂

pairing ; (yandere!) (submissive!) striker x (dominant!) (fem!) reader

warnings ; sexually suggestive content, profanity, slight gun play

note ; TYSM FOR MY FIRST ASK !!! i srsly appreciate it so much !! and your ask isn't weird at all ! unfortunately, i don't have any ocs rn but your ask inspired me to write a short helluva boss thing lol ! i rlly hope you like it–i notice you interacted with my last helluva boss work, and it made my week ! :']

also... the lyrics from this piece are from "blue" by leann rimes, and it is such an amazing song asdfghjkl,, i recommend listening to it while you read!

.⋆｡⋆｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blue.

blue, / oh, so lonesome for you, / why can't you be blue over me?

you turn your head away, refusing him the satisfaction of looking directly into your eyes. he raises one of his hands, his fingers carefully ghosting across your jawline, stuttering as they do–like he knows it's wrong for his skin to meet yours. they begin inching toward your lips, prompting you to pull away from him as much as your restraints allow. the coarseness of the rope digs into your wrists. you gasp, partly from pain but mainly from the discomfort of his touch against your skin: "don't touch me."

"play nice," striker lazily drawls. dropping his hand to his holster, he chuckles, leaning forward until you can feel his breath fanning across your face. hoarsely, he mumbles about how pretty and soft you smell; he relents, his posture straightening as he nods toward his hip.

"i can be mean when i want to be, honey," he says, emphasizing his words by tapping against his holster. dragging his fingertips over the bulge of his weapon, he continues, "don't make me be mean."

you clear your throat. "maybe i like mean."

three o'clock in the morning, / here am i, / sitting here so lonely, / so lonesome i could cry

narrowing his eyes, he watches your face, tail whipping behind him with a sharp crack. it continues to fidget as he unsheathes his gun, the glint of his gold tooth competing with how his revolver's silver barrel gleams underneath the dim light.

"admit you need me," he says, the severity of his voice getting caught in his throat; instead, a low, garbled whine falls from him, his words lilted with mean desperation. the barrel of his revolver grazes along your face, dragging it upward until he finally settles on your cheek, pressing it into the fleshiest part before spinning the gun's cylinder. as the cylinder moves, soft, muted clicks sound out, revealing all six chambers are full. the bullets peek at you from the corner of your eye–a moment disrupted as striker snaps the cylinder back into place with a single, well-practiced motion, the fluidity of which makes you shiver.

with a steady, unwavering stare, his gaze meets yours. "i can do this all night," he chuckles. "now, say it."

now that it's over, / i realize, / those weak words you whispered, / were nothing but lies

"no."

he stalls. striker's mouth twitches upward into a smirk, his shoulders relaxing as he lowers the gun slightly. holding it against your bottom lip, he lingers, hungrily watching as the plushness of your skin cushions the barrel. a low, pitchy noise rumbles in his chest at the sight; then, his pupils tremble, focus flitting between your mouth and his gun. he shakes his head.

"i'm sick and goddamn tired of you bein' in my head," he snarls through gritted teeth. to punctuate his sentence, he twists the opening of the revolver into the underside of your chin, the motion similar to how someone grinds a cigarette into an ashtray. "the way you sit there, lookin' at me the way you do–you need me."

"do i?"

blue, / oh, so lonesome for you, / why can't you be blue over me?

"i know you love me, darlin'," he quickly says, a thin trail of drool dribbling from his jaw onto his shirt, "yer just playin' hard to get." you snort.

"look at yourself," you say, disgusted. "you're pathetic."

arching your back against the tightness of the rope ("can't have you gettin' away, girlie," he'd said earlier), you huff, the chair you're tied to gently wobbling from side to side. still, as you're struggling, you don't allow him the opportunity to speak. "i-i bet you'd do anything to touch me," you muse, condescension honeying your voice.

"yes." the word comes out a quiet hiss. you can see how taut striker's muscles are underneath his jacket, how his fingers loosen and tighten around the revolver's handle. his claws are scraping against the metal like he needs proof that it's there–like the gun's weight alone isn't enough to tether him anymore.

you peer up at him as you wet your lips, a faint metallic taste lingering from where his gun rested. striker's fangs gnash against the quiet that follows as if he's desperate to taste you. "yes, what?"

"yes, ma'am."

why can't you be blue over me?

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x y/n #striker #striker helluva boss #striker x reader #helluva #helluvaboss #self insert #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #fem reader #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss fandom

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

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Saving fuel is really important. They’re not making any more dead dinosaurs (because of a lack of alive ones,) and burning that fuel is going to eventually kill all of us. Those are pretty good reasons not to waste fuel unnecessarily. Oh, also, it costs money, and I hate spending money on things that aren’t high-performance race tires and AliExpress gadgets that I don’t need.

Automakers have taken up the torch, making incredible new engines that can turn entire cylinders off, run partially in Atkinson cycle, and travel back in time to burn the same gasoline twice. Unfortunately, these wonder engines are attached to modern cars, which are disappointing, sodden lumps with no personality that are, for some reason, obsessed with promoting the survival of the human race. How can someone like me, with an ordinary everyday shitbox made by strung-out half-blind factory workers over half a century ago, also save fuel?

The obvious answer is to walk more, which is exactly what I end up doing a lot, when the car breaks down. One litre of gasoline contains about a jillion billion times more calories than I have to eat in a day in order to push my car back home. It would be difficult for me to walk any more, especially since my suburban neighbourhood has no sidewalks and I’ll get arrested if I get too close to the Richie Rich gated community again. That’s the rich for you, always getting in the way of environmentalism for their own selfish desire to hold onto their batteries and lawn flamingos.

Another answer is alternative fuels. Porsche and Mazda, among others, are working on some fancy science bullshit which will take carbon dioxide out of the air and turn it into rip-roaring race fuel. All it requires is an absolute shitload of electricity. I tried to design my own alternative fuel last year, using potatoes and a recipe from my friend who had been to prison a few times, but all I ended up with was some incredibly potent moonshine that my slant six could barely crank on. We’ll mark this down as “kind of a success,” because selling it off to some local mobsters let me get some gas money, and they were too blind once they drank it to come after me.

Ultimately, the best solution for me is one I discovered fairly late. Because I live on the bottom of a hill, I can just let my car coast downward, like an enormous Hot Wheels. As long as I don’t ever touch the brakes, even for red lights, my fuel cost will be zero until the rotten wheel bearings heat up and start really dragging the speed down. Going back up the hill is difficult, sure, but I found out that I can just sleep in the back until the parking patrol tows it. The best way to save on gas is to make some other sucker pay for it.

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meli-writes · 3 months ago

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Prescription

/// CW: peril (gunpoint), dubious consent, impact play, partial nudity, whorephobia, and mention of transphobia. ///

The handle came away with an unsettling clatter but, greatly relieving for Lili, could tumble safely away to the carpet. Every other mansion she’d seen was floored-to-ceiling’d with rich, deepening hardwoods as percussive as they were unethically imported.

Someone at last had the unwise taste to make things a bit softer, and no one would hear Lili’s heels clacking away then back to the evening’s do.

She pressed the door openly, slipping through the gap into a gently-lit abyss. No one would notice. Lili turned to peer behind the door and felt a warm, metal cylinder press itself against her cheek. At least that’s what she thought.

The fireplace twinkled and crackled slowly in the shadow’s eyes, Lili looked away burning with terror while her body froze in place. “Gotcha.”

“Goodness me, awfully sorry Mam. Just— getting myself lost is all now.” Perhaps the definitely mob-affiliated lady, tucked away in a dead-quiet study, hadn't just heard several minutes of failed lockpicking, followed by some furious few minutes of unscrewing.

“Hmm. I don’t think I’m as sure, my eyes have followed you all evening, darling. Has something been making you nervous?”

“No no, Mam. Quite ordinary for my face, always greeting with anxiety. And come to mention it, I’m here with—” Smack.

Before she could dare wonder where the barrel was the shadow had circled round and spanked her, then pressed the pistol harshly into the curve of her back, forcing her forward into the room’s centre, away from escape.

“What is it you're looking for?”

“Oh nothing important— please— just, the bathroom?”

Lili hadn’t hydrated for hours beforehand, spiro would get in her way, so even a few sips of dinner’s rosy pairing had left her lightheaded. The shadow’s disbelief smouldered in the pause, before it slammed the door shut and sent Lili’s nails digging into her palms.

“You’ll have your knees on my rug now, darling. Any other move and pop.”

She would have stayed frozen without the fire, it wasn’t the worst to sink down next to it, and most of her was pretty bare at the moment.

Lili held herself close, and still, but her eyes searched till she spied the iron poker just outwith her reach. It was a bit of hope.

“Now, I’m going to need you to answer at least one of my questions properly, or your evening will be much less pleasant than the rest of my guests.”

My rug. My guests. Oh no. “Who do you work for?”

“I was oh—” The shadow uncast itself and she was— incredible. High-heeled boots fell away to a dark and silken affair that made sure to demonstrate every muscle on her.

Lili shuddered, and not only from base intimidation, as a clutch bag was plucked from her fingers. “—accompanying a gentleman, Mam. I work a shop, but… sometimes find myself needing the help.”

The lady pulled a high-cheek higher — stretching lips, painted like dark chocolate, into a grimace. She was perusing through the bag, tossing out six sizes of condom, a packet of makeup wipes, a small granola bar and—

“Hmm, lying.”

—the German-made subcombat was perhaps too much of an upgrade over the typical prostitute’s derringer. It was disarmed quickly and placed on the desk, far out of reach.

“Don’t tell me it’s for self-protection.”

Technically that wasn’t a question, so Lili kept silent. She looked again at the poker — that was closer, for now — but the lady could see her twitching in place. Ca-click.

“Bend over.”

Lili’s breath roared over the flames, hot and heavy with muffled panic.

“I told you, if you won’t tell me when I ask you, then you’ll tell me when I hurt you. Now bend the fuck over.”

Her head juddered, trying to stay up as she bent herself down. Suddenly, desperately, she pulled back up. “Wait! It’s— there’s a rival. But I can’t say more—”

A boot hoisted itself over Lili’s shoulder and stomped her into the carpet, sending her dress rising over her ass. “Because they’ll kill you?”

The sharpened heel dug into her shoulder blade. A smile from above watched as Lili chafed her cheek against the floor, nodding in awkward terror.

The heel pulled free so the lady might kneel down and draw Lili’s face up to hers, the other hand finding itself wrapped around the taught hem of her dress. “Darling, if that’s all you plan to say then I’m going to be the one killing you. And there’s a lot that could happen between when I would, and when they would."

She pulled, exposing terribly insubstantial lingerie and sending the thief sprawling into her own bosom, face blooming red as the thief attempted to withdraw.

“Back down, darling.”

Lili pressed her face against the rug, felt the heat licking at her nearly bare arse, not seeing the crop now resting in the lady’s hands. “It’s, respectfully, more complicated than that, Mam. They’re holding something that I rather need— AHhh.”

The pain was quick, sharp, and heavy. The only relief a better, if bitter, understanding for her present position.

“Continue.” That was just her testing Lili, enjoying her.

“She’s got a hold on all my— Ahh.” Lighter. Lili had slipped and not noticed. “—meds, she has my medication. AHHHh.” Harder, the lady’s twisted version of a reward.

“What kind?” Crop falling before Lili could speak again.

“EEek. Hormones, they’re hormones. I’m—” Lili felt it resting on her, waiting. “Fuck, Mam. I’m a tranny, okay?” She felt the pad drawn up her back, shivering as it slowly pulled away.

“Quite the blasphemous word for yourself, darling. And who is she?”

Lili couldn’t answer that, she couldn’t. If she wasn’t screwed already this would kill her for sure. The rug was stained by a few heated tears, but she hadn’t felt it come back down—

Thwack. The lady’s sympathies had harsh, impatient limits it seemed.

“YAAAHaha. Fuckin’ hells. It’s Coloski, Reb Coloski.”

Lili tried to peek up but was quickly shoved back down, crop pressing against her temple as the lady mused. “Fucking bitch. And how’d you end up stealing for her?”

“I was—” Lili breathed in, and out. It was too late to deal out half-truths. “I ran out of my meds, and they refused me anymore and I couldn’t go back, okay? So, worked the few connections I had, Mam, and I guess it— worked its way up the chain.”

The lady eyed Reb’s thief, her thief now. Every family traded in debts but Coloski always loved to play with vulnerability.

“And now you don’t get any more — until a job is done?”

“No, I— Ahh.”

Not that she didn’t love it also, but this kind was insulting — and not for her to play with.

“Straighten up, darling. Pull those legs apart for me.” Even if the dress wasn’t hiked it wouldn’t have helped now.

Her cock pressed against the ungenerous mesh at her front, the lady brushing her crop against it, drawing it along her thigh, begging to drive out more answers. Or perhaps just a few more squeals.

“She make you do anything else?”

“I’ve had to do things for jobs, Mam, but not for her— Eeeh.” It stinged much more here. The lady need only swipe over, not under, and leave Lili with little padding to save her. “But, she promised she’d help me — Ahh — promised I’d be out of her debt for this job."

“She set you up.”

Lili shivered and blinked, looked at her with dumb shock. A quick smack was enough to squeal her back to her senses. “Eeee-ahh. W-What do you mean?”

“She’s done it before.” The lady nodded her head to the side. “How much do you know about the Victorinos?”

“Only that is their mansion. Boss went missing some years back but then in comes this woman, sister I think, and takes over in his stead. Not my place to ask why, Mam.”

She bent down, graced Lili’s lips for a terrifying moment. Her hair was composed into long, black waves, with a rather predominant nose imposing its own beauty on her face.

She looked in Lili’s eyes and purred.

“This woman.”

“M-m-m-miss Victorino?”

“Yes, darling?” This thief was all hers now. “Did you think I was another lost guest, like you?”

Lili tried, unsure of what she’d even say, to answer. “I— AHHHhh.” It was swift, and hard, and landed much closer to her centre than was bearable.

Vic — Miss Victoria Victorino — was talking now, and her thief needed to shush.

“Bitch sent you into Dante’s Inferno, where it would be quite undue on my reputation for anyone to walk out.”

She started padding the crop against Lili, who tensed at its rhythm and found herself blushing and hardening in response. “There’s a mutual agreement I think, if one meant to test me, to let me dispose of one of her more useless tools, from time to time.”

“Dispose?” THWACK. “YAAAaaah.”

“Kill.”

Vic narrowly missed the luridly pitched lace between Lili’s legs. On purpose — the threat brought her enough joy and there wasn’t quite such an evocative pain to draw from messy, jumbled parts.

Tears parted from the thief’s eyes. “Are you gonna?”

Vic sighed, giving Lili a soft, crooning show of sympathy. Laying the crop behind her and sinking down to Lili’s side, holding stiff as Vic’s arms wrapped around her.

“You’re still a thief, and a liar, and I can’t let you go— but—”

She grabbed Lili by the chin, squishing her cheeks and forcing her to look at a very, very particular cabinet, its contents exposed by crystal glass.

“—do you know what your prescription is?”

---

Lili was still scrambling herself back together as she hurried back to the lobby, pulling her dress the pitiful distance down she could. Miss Victorino was shortly behind her, and even if she tried to run first she’d have to get past—

“There you are, whore. What’re you doing?” Lili's gentleman had his fingers clutched viciously around the whole of her arm, pulling her against a dusty, velvet coat. “Waiting till I’m drunk so you can sneak off without doing what I paid you so damn much for?”

The cheapest bastards always expected the most for it. “N-no sir, but—”

“But nothing. I paid you. You fuckin’ belong to me—”

Lili could hear boots where the carpet ended. Feeling a far tighter grip work its way around her other arm, as the man began to stutter. “W-w-woah, hey! Boss Vic! Man!”

“This one’s mine now, Harv.” Lili saw his eyes widen, for a moment in annoyance, then in fear. He gave way as Vic pulled. “Tell the footman what she owes you, and the right amount. You’ll get double that for your trouble.”

“Of course, ‘course Boss. I won’t forget to—”

“Now. And don’t fucking harass the staff on the way out.” He scrambled, and at least wasn’t Lili’s problem anymore.

Vic groaned in frustration. “And, he in on it?”

Lili was too close to look up, so just shook her head. This part wasn’t a lie. Coloski gave her medication, but Lili still needed the money. And she couldn’t be blamed for a double booking when it’s what got her in here.

“Shame. He calls me man again and he’ll be wishing it was merely treachery. Now, about you– hmm.”

Vic’s closeness was having a certain effect on Lili. She belonged to Vic now, her mind familiar with an ecstatic mote of what that meant.

But whether it was better or worse than Reb, it wasn’t good — the humiliating delirium that fear held over her was clearly visible to Vic. And, to everyone else in view.

Vic pulled Lili close to her chest, running fingers through her hair, bestowing a dignity though only so she could make her lose it again later.

“I think I've entertained enough guests for tonight, you however have scarcely begun.”

---

(Masterpost)

originally written on cohost 10/12/2023, in response to Make Up A Criminal's prompt:

Mob Boss who looks a lot different than they used to

#8 Minute Read #Melinoë Writes #f/f #make up a criminal #mob boss who #thief who

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 1 year ago

Text

In celebration of me just picking up a Toyota Altezza Gita/Lexus IS300 Sportcross what are some of your favourite wagons or shooting brakes

yOOOOOO!!!!

Okay now I have to ask, is it actually an imported Toyota or did you add that just for potential clarification?

I should give context for folx out there (apparently folx is a 'more friendly' spelling to some? oh the wild wonders of language): y'all know how Lexus is a brand Toyota founded to move upmarket? Yeah, they didn't need to do that at home because Japan is much better protected from too-good-for-Toyotas-itis: I mean, if the emperor can drive (well, be driven in) Toyotas I am pretty sure you can afford to be seen in one. As a result, until 2005 Japan got Lexus models but not the Lexus brand, receiving them with Toyota branding instead (and different model names too, since the two letter acronyms were a Lexus thing).

To get to your question, though:

SEDANS I LIKE THE WAGON VERSION OF TOO

Toyota Altezza Gita/Lexus IS300 Sportcross (:D)

Indeed, I love your car! The JZ (for the folx: a six cylinder inline engine series widely regarded to be Toyota's best, capable of truly monstrous power with the right hands fiddling under the hood), the sporty, timeless styling, Toyota reliability and Lexus build quality, how no matter the market they refused to use a normal word for wagon, the chrome taillights so iconic they spawned an entire trend in 2000s car styling (especially aftermarket - hell, they still call them Altezza taillights!)... and that gauge cluster oh my GAWD

Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VIII Wagon

I don't think the street equivalent of one of the most legendary rally cars (and certainly, with the Subaru Impreza WRX STI, part of the most legendary rally war) needs any introduction. I just wanted to make sure you knew that between '05 and '07 the closest thing to a rally car a dealer would sell you also came in wagon form. In Japan only, of course. Because if Japan can't keep a cool thing to themselves, they'll make a cooler version to keep to themselves. Always.

Morris Mini Traveller/Austin Mini Countryman/Mini Clubman Estate

How do Mini fans do it, man

Who doesn't love the Mini? Who doesn't love the wagon's funky rear doors?

And who doesn't hate the time they tried to modernize its front end for the 70s? Me.

Like come on guys. You need to find within yourselves the intellectual honesty to admit that this fucks.

I rest my case. Let's move on.

Citroën DS Break/Familiale/Safari/Estate/Station Wagon

How do Citroën fans do it, man

Yes, the steering wheel had a single spoke - and by the way, that's it straight. It was angled like that so that, in a crash, it would guide your your body to the right - because there weren't seatbelts yet in 1955. Yeah. This is a 1955 design. The French are always been and likely always will be hellbent on being weird - and the Citroën DS is a distillation of the good that can come from that. It had pillarless windows! variable height suspension so effective you could only tell you had a flat by sound - and could change that flat by just having the suspension lift it for you! It had rear fenders held on by one bolt! Hell, in 1967, it got directional lights that turned with the wheels!!!!

IN 1967!!!! Few cars have them right now today!!!

Oh, and also, most interesting to us right now, it has the greatest vibe gap between sedan and wagon I have ever seen. Allow me to illustrate (and slightly exacerbate by cherry picking examples).

You get out of this with suit and tie and a watch you change the time of with felt tweezers.

You get out of this with a lab coat, plane goggles, a propeller tophat and a concoction that violates a semester's worth of laws of physics. And, potentially, seven of the biggest freaks the planet could muster, because yes, this could seat up to eight, thanks to a front bench, a middle bench, and trunk seats. "You mean a third row?" HAHA. NO.

Honorable mentions:

Mazda 6, Subaru Impreza, Toyota Corolla KE70, Audi RS4, BMW E30, Fiat 500 Giardinetta, most '60s yankee landyachts that got a wagon, and all the ones that escape me at this moment

WAGONS I LIKE MORE THAN THE SEDAN VERSION

Audi RS6 (second generation)

Here's what happened (presumably): Audi had bought Lamborghini. Great! Now Lamborghinis could use Audi interior bits, a very welcome change because Lamborghini were not exactly the interior controls GOATs. (To stick to a representative example and not be here all day, when set to Fahrenheit the Diablo's digital climate controls changed the temperature by two degree increments except between 63F and 64F and 72F and 73F. And at the extremes it said LOF and HIF because the F did not go away. So yeah.) But this also gave Audi access to Lamborghini parts - and, a couple years in, one of the engineers told the others "Jo [German for "Yo"], there's gotta be something cool we can do with Lamborghini parts!" And the other was like "Maybe we can make the new RS6 [Audian for Real Sporty version of the A6 executive sedan] with a Lambo V10! That'd be a fast fucking sedan." And the first one replied "And a fast fucking wagon too!" And their eyes locked, lighting up with villainous thrill.

I mean, I could wax lyrical about the all wheel drive and super expensy carbon ceramic brakes and the flared fenders et al but if this garbage 5 second clip does not convince you that this busts ass how could I.

youtube

Toyota Corolla E110

Well that's quite the jump. How could I possibly be interested in a car like this? If cars were meals this would be a plate of warm water. There is only one way to possibly get excited about a car this boring: personal significance. And sure enough, my Yaris-pursuing father was instead upsold a Corolla exactly like this, discounted to empty the lot in preparation for its facelift - and one day he used it to drive my momma to a hospital, they got out of it in two, and some tribulations later they got back in it in three - third being a hot-off-the-press me. This, then, was the car that was in the driveway through my stumbling infancy - and never hinted at letting us down. We then traded it for an Opel that gave us loads of trouble, the recipient traded it for an Audi that gave him loads of trouble, and on the Corolla kept getting passed on right to wherever it rests today, never letting anyone down - loyalty likely rewarded by a crusher turning it to mush. And I want another shot at doing this car right.

Okay, actually, there's another way to get excited about such a car: find out about the inevitable sick-ass Japan-only version. In this case Toyota figured they'd fit the Sprinter Carib (because Corolla wasn't near a silly enough name for the Japanese market) with a 20V 4A-GE Blacktop and a 6 speed manual, or in less technical terms "one of the greatest non-turbo powertrains of its size to ever graze a production car". Presumably just for the sake of keeping it Japan-only for the sake of annoying me personally.

Well, joke's on them, because my idea goes even harder: replicating the powertrain the hatchback version competed in World Rally Championship with - 4WD and all.

This but wagon, essentially. And then bin it in a tree in 15 seconds like I always do on the rally sim.

Honorable mentions:

1970 Dodge Coronet SW, Nissan Stagea, Volvo 940/960 wagon (which I talked about in another post!), and again all the others that I forgot.

The shooting brakes are gonna need their separate post because otherwise it hits the image limit :/

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

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bestworstcase · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! You've mentioned being a NanoWrimo veteran, and I was wondering if you had any advice for planning out your writing for the month? I was going to do an outline beforehand to prepare, but I'm not sure if that's authentic to the NanoWrimo spirit.

i am i’ve been doing nano most years with wildly variable success since i was fourteen. my best advice is:

start writing now.

not your actual nanowrimo project necessarily and not the 1.6k and change daily you’d need to ‘win’ but start writing every day right now. if i’m going into november from a dry spell i like to start with a daily goal of minimum 100-200 words for a week and then at the end of the week, set a new goal of a few hundred more than daily average. rinse repeat until you’re in the habit of writing a decent chunk every day. THE POINT OF THIS is to avoid hitting the “”two week wall“” which is a thing that happens because writing 1.6k+ words in a day is pretty easy but writing 1.6k+ words per day every day for a month is really hard if you don’t, you know. train for it.

you will get the most value out of nanowrimo if you think about it as a writing marathon. it’s difficult because it takes a level of endurance and discipline that you probably do not have unless you’re already a prolific daily writer.

outlining is in the spirit of nanowrimo and has always been part of the culture; some people outline extensively (‘planners’) some don’t (‘pantsers,’ as in writing by the seat of your pants), many fall somewhere in the middle. the only hard rule if you want the, like, pure nanowrimo experience as it was originally conceived is: don’t start writing the actual story until 12:01 AM on november first. you can have anything from zero plan to minutely detailed scene-by-scene notes for the entire novel locked and loaded, but on day one you open a blank document and start writing.

another thing i’d really recommend is trying to write over that 1.6k daily baseline. an extra 340 words per day for five days will net you a free day and those are nice to have in case you hit a day where you can’t write for whatever reason. it’s a lot less stressful to bank up extra words ahead of time than to miss a day or two and have to catch up.

if you don’t already have a process for turning off your inner editor, start trying to figure one out now. the temptation to delete and rewrite a paragraph dozens of times will bite you if you indulge it. try things like hiding your text so you can’t read it (set font and page to the same color, or use wingdings), try sprinting apps like write or die, stuff like that. you are trying to complete a rough draft. it’s okay for it to be rough.

lastly, use the time between now and november to figure out warm ups that work for you. these are quick, simple writing exercises separate from your wip that you do before every writing session. here are some that i like:

set a timer for five minutes and write continuously, stream of conscious, without stopping until the time’s up.

set a timer for five minutes and write a loose synopsis or ramble about the scene you plan to write: what happens, who’s in it, what subplots is it advancing, what pieces of foreshadowing or set up do you need to work in, what’s the emotional tone, etc.

pick an object in the room. spend five minutes describing it in exhaustive but simple detail. think “this cup is a tall red cylinder. it’s made of glass. there’s about a half-inch of clear glass at the bottom. the red is bright and saturated, firetruck red. it’s sitting on my desk with sunlight falling through it, casting a red shadow. there’s water in it with three ice cubes. the cup is about six inches tall.” <- you want a stream-of-conscious list of observations, basically.

use a random [name/setting/plot] generator and write 2-4 paragraphs of something stupid based on the output. just the silliest or most overwrought or edgiest grimdark or saccharine bullshit you can spew out.

take the last five hundred or so words of your last writing session. read them over. open a blank document and transcribe them word-for-word (or nearly, if you can change a word here and there without breaking stride). the idea is not to edit, but to write out a decent chunk of words quickly, without thinking much about what those words are. (i like to do another warmup and then this one and then just keep going when i hit the end of the chunk i’m transcribing.)

the idea is to preempt writer’s block by giving yourself 10-15 minutes of no thoughts head empty rapid-fire word vomit to get your brain on track and ready to go. warming up before your writing sessions will dramatically reduce the frequency of sudden creative paralysis when you sit down to write.

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itsuki-minamy · 1 year ago

Text

"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 13: THE END OF THE DREAM

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

As he ran through the dark passage, something bright opened again.

It was similar to the space where Mishakuji was located, but it was even higher in the ceiling and with countless huge cylinders. There was even a strict air, like an ancient Greek temple.

As he ran through the pillars, Shiro thought of Kuro whom he had left just now.

(Kuro. I believe in you.)

Mishakuji Yukari is a strong enemy. Perhaps his power will even reach the king. Facing the blade, Shiro did not confirm whether Kuro could win alone.

That's why he believes in him. That's the only thing Shiro can do.

At this moment, multiple members of the "Jungle" clan appeared from the front.

"There they are! Don't let them pass!"

The muzzle turned there at once. Looking at them, Neko who was running next to him, murmured.

"They won't defeat me!"

With the spirit, Neko drew a zigzag path, lowering herself like a four-legged beast. She jumped into the air and decided to drop the heel to the main Clansman.

"This is...!"

Other Clansmen quickly take the distance and aimed at Neko. However, they couldn't catch her literally jumping like a cat, and she was just thrown away.

At this moment, Neko's eyes were shining, and the sound of the bell echoed.

"Take this!"

"Jungle Attack!"

The Clansmen held their weapons and began to hit each other. Neko's reconnaissance operation skill and ability. Neko watched the Clansmen using their weapons to hit each other, and was satisfied.

"Neko!"

Shiro ran again as he called after her. There isn't much time left. They have to get to the "Slate" as soon as possible.

And...

Shiro suddenly saw that something strange was placed between the pillars.

A tatami with six mats. Kitchen with an old refrigerator. Various plaques in the Chabudai.

The appearance of a room, as if a family lived there, was left in a solemn underground space.

"......"

Hisui Nagare also has friends. The opponent has something that can be called family.

The fact that he knew sank into his chest.

But he can't stop. Hisui Nagare has a wish, and Shiro also has his own wish. That's completely understandable too. If there was something that could not be certified, there was only one thing to do.

Shiro and Neko arrived there.

A gigantic stone disk placed carelessly on the ground, the "Dresden Slate".

A relic that brings innovation and confusion to humanity.

And, as if to protect him, a solitary bird was there.

"It's here! It's here!"

The parrot made a sound. He had seen that parrot several times. He is a messenger of the "Green King" named Kotosaka.

Then, the young man with Kotosaka on his shoulder slowly stood up.

"...Hisui Nagare."

Hearing Shiro's words, the young "Green King" Hisui Nagare smiled silently. Neko nodded and snuggled into Shiro.

Nagare looked at him and silently opened his mouth.

"First King, Adolf K. Weismann, Isana Yashiro. Welcome."

+++++++++++

Mishakuji gently narrowed his eyes as his sword flickered slowly.

Kuro's sword in front of him doesn't seem to be as shaken as before. Unfazed by Mishukaji's brilliant move, he is trying to discern the true nature of him.

Mishakuji freely admired that state.

"Good. Although it contains great power, it is as calm as the surface of a lake. I can see your growth."

In response, Kuro replied in a low voice.

"...I've finally begun to see it too. It may seem like your sword can change shape, but there is a core running through it. The core that sustains the strength."

Mishakuji chuckled and readjusted his "Ayamachi".

"It's a strange destiny. Although we grew up under the same "king", we each received different "kings" and now our paths cross this way. It's wonderful."

Once upon a time, when they were wielding swords together under the tutelage of Miwa Ichigen, did they ever think that something like this would happen?

At the very least, it is true that the current Kuro has become an attractive enemy. There aren't many people he wants to kill from the bottom of his heart.

Mishakuji was happy about that, regardless of his morals or his feelings.

"I guess it's time we found our King. Let's get started, Kuro-chan."

Mishakuji pointed the tip at Kuro, as if he was swearing.

"My sword is to fulfill the sincerest wish of the "Green King"."

Kuro also pointed the tip of "Kotowari" towards Mishakuji and muttered to himself.

"And I, to fulfill the wish of the "Silver King"."

+++++++++++

"Oraaaaaaaaah, but what?!"

Yata was running the entire time, letting out a roar.

The map that was informed to him in advance has long since been forgotten by him. That's not to say he was running blindly. Yata already knew the coordinates he had to reach. The "warmth" he feels from Anna's supernatural network is directly beneath the presence of his friends.

But before he gets there, he will have to go through a maze.

From the darkness along the corridors, behind the barricades, from the walkways, members of the "Jungle" clan began to emerge. They really were a nuisance. Yata swung his staff to deflect the bullets they fired, smashing them, jumping over their bodies and moving forward.

"Yata-chan, have you arrived yet?"

"Yata-san, hurry up...!"

Yata's frustration increased as he received communications from Kusanagi and Kamamoto. He shouted, gritting his teeth and punching the members of the "Jungle" clan.

"I'm so excited that I keep running as fast as I can! Just wait a little longer!"

Anna's supernatural network also shares his sense of sight and hearing. Yata was well aware of the burden his late arrival placed on everyone else. Yata forced himself to take a breath, which was about to run out, and accelerated even more.

"Alright."

Suddenly, he heard that voice.

"I believe in Misaki."

He felt as if Anna's direct gaze was fixed on Yata.

Hearing that, Yata laughed. He thought to himself as he emitted flames from the tip of the staff.

(King believes in me. If I don't answer, it will be a lie!)

The staff slammed into the wall, leaving a trail of flames in the darkness. Even more clansmen wait beyond the toppled and exploded wall. Yata stood up and stared at them.

"I am Yata Misaki, captain of the "Homura" vanguard! Stay away unless you want to die!"

+++++++++++

The unrest on the ground was already calming down.

The defeat of the "Gray King" had a great impact on the morale of the Green Clan members, and most of them retreated to their hideouts or were unable to escape and were captured by "Scepter 4". Some began to surrender voluntarily, showing no signs of resistance. Many people on the ground have probably already made up their minds. However, Awashima's expression never cleared up.

"Captain..."

Reisi Munakata was looking towards the "hideout" when she called out to him with concern.

Blue sparks scattered intermittently on his back. An uncontrollable supernatural ability causes a short circuit, which manifests as a visible anomaly.

Without turning around, Munakata said to Awashima.

"...Awashima-kun. When the time comes, don't hesitate."

Awashima bit her lip and looked up at the sky.

A broken "Sword of Damocles" hovered directly above Munakata. Like Munakata's body, it emits numerous sparks and blue aura crystals constantly break off and disappear into thin air.

It wouldn't have been strange if it fell at any moment.

Awashima looked at him and put her hand on the hilt of her own saber. Pain, sadness, despair. He kept all those emotions inside her heart and thought.

(Just do what you have to do.)

All the other members noticed Awashima's deadly expression. Before they knew it, they were watching Awashima and their "King" from afar. No matter how fate turns out, they want to see it with their own eyes.

Then only one person noticed it.

The "Gray King", Tenkei Iwafune, who was lying on the ground, suddenly disappeared.

He maybe he used some supernatural ability, or maybe he crawled with all his might. The only person who noticed that was Gouki Zenjo, who silently closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

"...At least he has a place to die."

+++++++++++

His first impression was that he was a much younger man than he had imagined.

To awaken the "Slate" and encourage innovation in humanity. He was a delicate and gentle man who did not seem willing to commit such a scandalous act. If he had not been surrounded by a powerful aura, perhaps he would not have been able to believe in him or even now.

The "Green King", who was connected to the "Slate", silently opened his mouth.

"Honestly, I didn't expect you to go this far. As expected."

"Because I also have a will."

Hisui Nagare tilted his head slightly at Shiro's response. In a regretful tone, he said...

"I'm your fan... that is, I'm a fan of the "Silver King" that you used to be. I have great empathy with the feelings you once confided to the "Slate". Do you want to join hands with me?"

Shiro shook his head without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to reject you again."

"...Now that I think about it, you didn't answer me why last time either."

"That..."

Just as he was about to speak, Neko suddenly stepped forward and stuck out her tongue.

"Bleh, no! Shiro won't be your friend!"

Kotosaka, who remained on Nagare's shoulder, replied in a sharp voice.

"Shut up, you stupid cat!"

"Shut up, you idiot bird!"

Neko and Kotosaka looked at each other, growling and threatening each other.

"Ameno Miyabi."

Suddenly, Nagare called out to her.

Neko trembled. Hisui Nagare guards her true identity, the absolute secret that Neko tried to hide. Neko was afraid of that more than anything.

"Like me, you experienced the Kagutsu Incident. You are one of the few people who survived that tragedy."

Nagare easily revealed his true identity.

"Just as I woke up as a "King" when the "Red King" caused a burst of royal power, you also gained power and became Strain. And just as I lost my life, you manipulated your own memories and ended up living like a cat. We two are people from whom the "Slate" stole everything... and we got everything new."

Shiro looked at Neko.

Neko didn't exchange glances with Shiro, she just grabbed him tightly by the sleeve.

"In the course of life, people encounter many irrational situations. What matters is whether or not you can resist that irrational fate. Do you have that power? We encountered the Kagutsu Incident, but we overcame it with the power that gave us the "Slate". People should have the power to protect themselves and pave their way. The "Slate" will give them that."

Shiro flatly denied that theory.

"No. The power of the "Slate" is too much for humans to possess."

Nagare also immediately replied.

"Why? Don't you believe in people? If so, I'm disappointed. I'm disillusioned. You used to believe in people's potential more than anyone else."

"That's not true! I..."

"I don't understand!"

Only a little.

The discussion was interrupted by Neko's words.

Biting her lip and suppressing her fear, Neko still kept her eyes fixed on Nagare. She thought slowly and, as she did, she opened her mouth.

"I don't understand what you're saying. But Wagahai doesn't need a "Slate". Shiro, Kurosuke and everyone else can do without that!"

"...Neko."

"Whoever it is, even if I'm a monster, I'll never disappear just because of that. So, I'm fine with that. That's all I need! I don't need anything else!"

"......"

"There have been bad things in the past and I think there will be more in the future. But what I want right now is not a "Slate". It's delicious food and someone who will eat it with me. That's what Wagahai wants!"

Tears welled up in Neko's eyes.

What is her "true identity"? Shiro still doesn't know.

He probably doesn’t need to know. Unless Neko wants them to know, there's no need to pry. What Shiro and Kuro want is the "Neko" of now, who is innocent and full of emotion.

Taking Neko's hand, Shiro looked at Nagare and said...

"Hisui Nagare. What people need is not a "Slate". It's just it... that's right. A chabudai. That's enough. That's my conclusion. The choice of the "Silver King"."

After a while of silence, Nagare suddenly said...

"...What a pity."

"Nagare! Don't be disappointed! Nagare!"

Encouraged by Kotosaka, Nagare smiled a little. He looked at Shiro and said...

"So... let me ask you something. Why did you come here, "Silver King"?"

"I came to destroy the "Slate"."

A slight sneer emerged from Nagare's smile.

"How? You should be the most aware of the physical strength of the "Slate". I would like to add that I will not let you touch it again."

In an instant, a green light illuminated Nagare's chest. In the blink of an eye, it enveloped his entire body, manifesting as an aura so powerful that he could feel it on his skin.

"I guess so..."

When he replied in a low voice, the slight sneer that had been mixed into Nagare's expression disappeared. Along with his warning, the green shrine that Nagare uses became even more intense.

"Now I can connect with the "Slate" and absorb its power inexhaustibly. If I feel like it, "Silver King", I can use your "immutable" power and my "alterable" power. I can overwrite it and even kill you. I am invincible."

"......"

"Still, you are resisting, "Silver King"."

"If you were me, would you give up?"

Nagare narrowed his eyes and kicked the wheelchair back.

That was the end of the story. From now on, it was not the time for conversation, but for beliefs and fist bumps.

+++++++++++

Anna was the first to notice.

As the "Red Queen", she has a sensory capacity that far exceeds that of a Strain. Her higher perceptive powers sensed the existence of "it" before it manifested.

She turned her gaze toward the sky as if to check. In her field of vision, which only reflected red, "It" tried to take shape, not as a color, but as a figure colored by an aura.

''Silver'' and ''Green'', the two ''Swords of Damocles''.

Anna understood exactly what that meant. The two kings, Isana Yashiro and Hisui Nagare, finally met.

Slowly, impatience crept up her spine.

In a head-on confrontation, the probability of Shiro defeating Nagare is zero. In theory, no one could beat Nagare, who can draw unlimited energy from the ''Slate''.

There is no more grace left. If they don't carry out the plan immediately...

At this moment, the marble that Kamamoto was holding emitted a red glow.

"Anna! It's here, it's the signal!"

Anna gritted her teeth. Her excellent sensory ability felt that "it was not like this yet". All the marbles are not in the correct position yet.

At that moment, Yata and Kusanagi's screams echoed through the network.

"We're almost there! Just do it!"

"Anna, do it!"

She closed her eyes, she gave a sigh and when she opened her eyelids again, her doubts had already dissipated. She broadcast the proclamation of her as "King" to the supernatural network.

"From now on, we will gather all the power of the Red Clan and open the "way"...!"

A bright red aura came out from her folded arms. The aura turned into a flame, a shrine, and spread towards the clansmen like flames spreading across the plains.

Anna felt a burning sensation on her neck as the fourth "Sword of Damocles" appeared above her head.

Kamamoto, who was next to her, clenched his fist and shouted.

"No Blood!"

Kusanagi, who was deep underground, laughed in fighting spirit.

"No Bone!"

Yata, who was further down, ran with determination in his heart.

"No Ash!"

At their respective stations, the clan members (Akagi, Bando, Chitose, Dewa, Eric, and Fujishima) expressed their thoughts and threw the marbles in their hands.

Anna could see it in her eyes. Her eyes, which only recognize the color red, were able to see through "Homura's" red color through space. The red dots were connected in a straight line, forming a straight line.

She should have already abandoned her doubts. She knew she had to do it.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she could do it.

That flame. That red. The power of the King. Is it possible for her to control it?

(Will I be able to achieve things like that person?)

A few seconds of coma. The question that ran through Anna's mind, however, disappeared in the next moment. Someone was behind her.

It wasn't Kamamoto. Neither do the other members of the clan. His presence was clearly felt even from a distance.

Furthermore, the person behind Anna was much bigger than them. A bright, warm, soft and beautiful red.

Anna watched, unblinking, as his hand reached over her shoulder and took hers.

Anna's lips parted. Her voice overlapped with that of the man behind her, echoing her words.

"Burn them!"

The flames on both arms enveloped the marble in the air, as if it had a will. The exploding supernatural flame penetrated the ground and caused the marbles on the ground to explode, expanding further and swallowing the marbles below, increasing its power by doubling each time it was chained together. A huge column of fire engulfed everything from the first floor of the basement to the tenth floor of the basement, burning it to the ground.

Anna could see that enormous column of fire.

The flame of the King that she created with the power of all.

Anna looked back.

However, there was no one there. The shadow of his tall figure, the warmth she felt, the smile on his lips, nothing. There was no trace of his existence left there.

Instead, Munakata's face loomed near the exit from the ground.

Seeing a hint of pain in his eyes, Anna knew that Munakata had seen the same thing as her.

She met Munakata's eyes. Anna nodded slightly and lowered her eyes.

Then, remembering the man who was behind her at the end, Anna laughed a little.

+++++++++++

The sound of an explosion echoed in the distance, and Nagare recognized it simply as the sound of a battle.

In various parts of the "secret base", clan members "Jungle" and "Homura" fight fierce battles. Naturally, the weapons given to the clan members included bombs, so he thought that was the reason.

By the time he realized that was different, it was too late.

The sound of explosions echoed at regular intervals, getting closer and louder. When he gasped and looked up, a waterfall-like flame had already broken through the ceiling and was falling onto the "Slate".

The roaring stream of flames engulfed Nagare's body and licked the entire hall. Kotosaka jumped into the air and the others deployed a supernatural shield to block the flames.

Nagare was the only one who was directly exposed to the flames.

If he were a normal person, he wouldn't have been left with even a speck of dust. Even a normal "King" would not have been able to survive unscathed.

Of course, Nagare was none of those things.

"Is this your plan?"

Despite being exposed to the inferno that was still pouring out, Nagare did not suffer a single burn.

Nagare said with a sigh.

"I am deeply disappointed. What is the point of doing something like this?"

He thought that Isana Yashiro's intelligence was on par with his, so he didn't want to think that such a foolish plan was a trump card. If he truly believed that Nagare could be defeated with the supporting fire of the "Red Queen", then he was no longer even a person to talk to.

And Shairo did not disappoint Nagare's expectations.

"...The path is already made."

"Path?"

Nagare looked up again at the words he murmured.

He could see the blue sky.

Nagare stopped breathing. The blue sky, the white of the clouds. And floating there, swords of various colors.

He felt as if his electromagnetic heart was beating rapidly.

"Perhaps..."

"That's right."

The light of determination shone in Shiro's eyes. Determined to overcome or crush the difficulties before them by any means necessary. The formula for this already exists within Shiro.

In a lower voice, Shiro spoke of the method.

"I will destroy the "Slate" with a "Damocles Down"."

+++++++++++

Mishakuji Yukari had never thought that his sword was as beautiful as it was now.

A flash of "excess" released from an impossible angle, free and flexible, is truly art. Mishakuji views his swordsmanship that way, not as a boast, but as a fair evaluation. A human-like swordsman who steps forward as if he were dancing and wields his sword as if in full bloom will not be able to take a single hit.

Yes. If you do not have the proper skill in using the sword, you will never be able to bring out the beauty of the sword.

That's why Mishakuji loudly praised his opponent.

"That's amazing, Kuro-chan! You've become so strong. You're almost on par with me now!"

Yes. Yatogami Kuro also became more beautiful than he had ever seen before.

Firm and solid as a rock, no matter how unexpected the blow, "Kotowari" will absorb it and unleash a devastating counterattack. His eyes never waver, always fixed on Mishakuji.

Ah, Mishakuji thought, with a tingle.

(I wish this moment could last forever!)

However, the reality is that that is not the case. Mishakuji knew this better than anyone.

The elevated "Ayamachi" and the lower "Kotowari" crossed each other. The surrounding auras repel each other, producing sparks and a sizzle.

Mishakuji smiled charmingly as he used one hand to relieve the pressure of his spit.

"But right now, you can't just be even. If you don't surpass me, you won't be able to go to your "King"!"

"Kuh..."

Biting his lip in frustration, Kuro shifted his grip slightly. When he released the amount of pressure that had been loosened, Kuro flexibly withdrew and readied his sword again.

Mishakuji raised his voice as he made his sword dance gracefully with just one hand.

"Come, show me!"

At that moment two lights exploded.

Silver and green. He could know it without seeing it, because it is the light of his King.

"That's from Nagare-chan."

The appearance of the "Sword of Damocles" meant that Isana Yashiro and Hisui Nagare were at war.

That in itself stirred no emotion in Mishakuji. If those two fight, Nagare will definitely win. There was no way that his "Green King", who was connected to the "Slate", would be defeated, no matter how many conditions were combined.

So what surprised Mishakuji was Kuro's reaction.

He took something out of his pocket. It is a single coin that shines silver. Gripping his tightly, Kuro muttered.

"That's right. My sword is to my King, Shiro. As long as I'm with him..."

Along with the coin, Kuro grabbed the hilt of his sword and silently looked at Mishakuji.

Mishakuji was impressed by that look. His eyes are like the surface of a calm lake, without haste or hesitation, just a determination hidden deep inside.

Kuro declared happily, mirroring Mishukaji in his incredibly deep eyes.

"Mishakuji Yukari. I will surpass you!"

Mishakuji let out a sigh and laughed.

The current Kuro is the strongest Kuro to date.

Yatogami Kuro is not Mishakuji Yukari. He operates with a completely different logic than Mishakuji, who acts freely and selfishly.

Kuro demonstrates his ultimate power for the sake of the King. For his Lord. It's for someone important.

That's why Kuro was the strongest at that time. To save the "King" who is in trouble, run to his side as soon as possible and defeat the enemy in front of him. He will expend all of his life force for that purpose.

Mishakuji couldn't help but be happy about that. He considers the last-minute exchanges of life and the brilliance of will that emerges to be the most beautiful of all.

Kuro kicked the ground.

Unconsciously, Mishakuji also started running.

Rounding to ''Kotowari''. Preventing, in return, he pushed "Ayamachi", repelling him. Sparks fly from tip to tip and the pressure on the blade emits light. A deadly dance with two swords, a thin line between life and death as if they were playing. As if he were playing in a paradise, Mishakuji was captivated by the moment.

And then, the end came without a hitch.

Kuro intervened. Two steps, three steps, the speed far exceeded Mishakuji's expectations. As he raised the spirit of division, he turned, as if half of his body was immersed in it.

Before he knew it, the "Kotowari" sword had pierced Mishakuji's chest.

''Ayamachi'' flew through the air and rolled on the concrete making a sound.

Before he could think of anything, the words came pouring out.

"That was beautiful..."

He collapsed and fell to his knees. Fever and pain from his shoulder to his chest. He could feel the blood dripping and coming out of his fingers.

His fingertips could still move, meaning he could still grasp the sword.

But he wasn't going to do that.

The decision has already been made.

This is the first time he has been defeated since he pointed his sword at Ichigen Miwa. He couldn't bear to see that great swordsman slowly lose his life to illness. He wanted to see his life burn in the midst of battle. So he doesn't regret what he did.

And now...

At this moment, his youngest disciple, who could only tremble, was about to surpass him. Mishakuji felt quiet satisfaction in the fact that no one else had cut him except the man who had inherited Miwa's technique.

His feet were shaking. Someone is fighting somewhere. Kuro looked towards the end of the hallway with an impatient expression on his face.

"Damn, it's started!"

Mishakuji muttered under his breath.

"...Kill me. And go quickly to your king."

Then, Mishakuji closed his eyes.

There was a pause.

Mishakuji opened his eyelids at the sound of the doorbell.

When he looked, he saw that Kuro had sheathed his sword.

Before Mishakuji could say anything, Kuro stared at him.

"In the fields and mountains the color may differ, but we are like noni seeds."

Yes, he recited a poem.

Mishakuji rolled his eyes. He remembers the poet Miwa's haikus without missing a single word. However, what Kuro said was...

"...I don't know that poem."

"It's my poem... Goodbye."

Without saying anything, Kuro turned his back on him and started running.

Mishakuji looked at his back in shock. The only thing he could do was record a single phrase and follow in the footsteps of his younger brother.

When he looked down silently, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Are you looking, Ichigen-sama? That child has finally become a full-fledged person."

He then he got up. Stumbling, he picked up "Ayamachi" and gently placed it in his holster. The time to exercise that will not come for some time. Now that all the battles are reaching their final stages, there probably isn't much he can do.

But that doesn't mean there's nothing.

"Now... the least I can do is get a new seed."

Mishakuji muttered that and started walking in the opposite direction of Kuro, looking for the stairs that led to the top.

+++++++++++

The great hall was engulfed in flames.

The breath of the "Red Queen" blew from above, completely burning multiple armor plates and leaving large holes. In the distance you can see a blue sky and a sparkling silver tip.

Nagare turned to Shiro and glared at him.

"Are you crazy? Damocles Down..."

Shiro accepted that look head on.

"It's the only way to destroy the "Slate". Neither me, nor the "Golden King". Another person involved in "The Beginning" told me this option."

"Are you planning to turn this into a crater?!"

No, Nagare denied his own words. If Tokyo is caught in the "burst of royal power", it will not simply become a crater. The swords of all the "kings" present there could fall together. Their power is not just a metaphor, but it would be worthy of destroying this planet.

For a moment, Nagare doubted Shiro's character, wondering if he was trying to negotiate with the world itself as a hostage. But he shook his head slowly.

"Concentrate the enormous energy of the "Damocles Down" in a single point. According to the Second Methodology of the Schwert Regulation, it will cause a Hammer Resonance Effect. After calculating the degree of resistance of the "Slate", I discovered that its limit value, was theoretically the same as "Damocles Down". When certain conditions are met, the "Slate" and the "Sword of Damocles" will only annihilate each other.''

Nagare opened his eyes.

He only had a little experience with Schwert's control methodology. Weismann's deviation, the source of supernatural powers, and his crystal, the "Sword of Damocles", are normally phenomena that not even the "King" can do anything about. Although it can be observed, it is impossible to intervene, and the only way to prevent it from happening is to end the King's life. That was the conclusion of the first methodology.

However, the second method proposes another way.

Nagare punched the air. The hologram image that appeared instantly, along with dozens of data, showed that his prediction was correct.

"Impossible! He is pushing his own Weismann level to the limit!"

What the Schwert Control/Second Methodology proposes is that the "King" can voluntarily cross the critical point of the Weismann deviation. By deliberately dropping the largest energy body, the "Sword of Damocles", the power from it becomes directional. In that case, "Damocles Down" transmits energy as "penetration", rather than "diffusion".

The "Silver" Sanctuary is expanding. No reservations, no restrictions, to the point that even Nagare, who was directly connected to the "Slate", was overwhelmed. A dazzling silver glow overflowed from the hand that Shiro had placed on his chest, and in contrast, his expression began to distort in agony.

"Shiro?!"

Neko next to him huddled worried. However, Shiro forced a smile and looked at Nagare.

"What do you think, Hisui Nagare? Don't you think this is some kind of message?"

"What...?"

"The "Slate" can only be destroyed when the "King" releases the sword of his own will. I don't know who he is, but it seems to me that someone who created the "Slate" is saying that."

He closed his eyes in silence and connected the words.

"If it is too much for you, you must destroy it with your own hands."

"I will not leave you!"

Nagare released all the power of him.

A green aura enveloped his entire body and a ferocious momentum coursed through his body. Nagare roared as he tilted his body downwards.

"Looking at Suouh Mikoto's case, it takes less than 10 seconds from the start of the fall to reach the underground! If I kill you before, the sword will disappear!"

Shiro slowly opened his eyes.

"...Try it."

The value indicating the Weismann deviation in the image exceeded the critical value.

The fall began.

Before he could confirm that, Nagare had attacked Shiro. An extremely fast, lightning-like strike aimed at the throat of the "Silver King".

A red Japanese umbrella blocked his fingers.

"Grr...!"

The two auras, silver and green, collide and annihilate each other while emitting a shockwave. Shiro who rules "immutability" is dedicating all of his power to defense. Even though Nagare was directly connected to the "Slate" and gained infinite energy, it took him three seconds to break it.

The Japanese umbrella broke into thousands of pieces and the pieces flew into the air.

Shiro's body was also swept away by the shock wave like a strong wind and fell to the ground. Now that he was helpless, Nagare pounced on him like an animal.

"This is the end!"

A fist that turned into electricity pierced Shiro's abdomen. Nagare's imagination of burning his internal organs and his spinal cord and killing him along with his life did not come true.

Shiro's appearance dispersed like mist, melting into the air and disappearing.

(Ability to recognize and manipulate!)

It took him two seconds to remember those words and find Neko trembling in his arms. 5 seconds left. It was more than enough. The "Silver King" has already exhausted his power. It takes less than a second to destroy the defenseless Strain.

Lightning claws fell on the two from above.

A single swing of the sword blocked him head-on.

Yatogami Kuro. He grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands and gritted his teeth to block Nagare's attack.

Through the space between his clenched teeth, he shouted the name of his "King" with a voice that sounded like a roar.

"Shiro...!"

Nagare frowned.

Yatogami Kuro is there. He stopped trying to think about what that meant. Now is not the time to think. That happened a long time ago. Now is the time to finish them off.

"You're in the way!"

At the same time as he shouted, the pressure of his supernatural ability increased even more. However, that prediction that only one clan member's sword would break for no reason turned out to be wrong once again.

It did not break. The sword held by Kuro, his colorless steel, still withstood the full force of the "King".

A silver aura enveloped that figure.

Taking a deep breath, Nagare looked over Kuro's shoulder.

Isana Yashiro woke up and enveloped Neko and Kuro in a silver shrine.

In that last moment of collision of destructive power, what passed through Nagare's mind was not impatience, but doubt.

"How? Why? They reject power, how can they be so strong?!"

Kuro, Neko and Shiro's eyes were staring at Nagare. The six eyes told him that if they fight, they would never lose.

At that moment, Nagare wanted to turn around.

Shiro, the reason they were there.

Why aren't the clan members who were supposed to be there to stop them?

Mishakuji Yukari, Sukuna Gojou, Kotosaka, Iwafune Tenkei.

For a moment, he could see them sitting around a tea table in their six-tatami "secret base," talking, fighting and laughing together.

At this moment, he suddenly exhaled.

A shock ran through his heart.

"......!"

He has been dreaming about that for many years. Life outside the straitjacket. Breathe freely and fly around the world.

That was the heart. If you have the heart, you can do it. The dead can return to the living and fulfill the wishes of those who also died. Extraordinary abilities for all humans. The power to resist. Be king.

The heart that had heard his prayers was pierced by a sword.

Nagare learned that not through observation but through actual experience. A silver slash pierced Nagare's stone heart. The blood of the supernatural was spilled and the life that was supposed to have been recovered returned to nothing.

His knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

Hisui Nagare looked at the sky through his falling hair. An open well and the blue sky beyond.

The "Sword of Damocles" floating there disappeared.

Nagare murmured hoarsely.

"How unfortunate..."

Then, Nagare turned his gaze towards Shiro.

The tension and caution had not yet left them. That was annoying and Nagare smiled slightly. Nagare silently closed his eyes and said:

"But I'm satisfied..."

Those were the last words that the ''Green King'' Hisui Nagare said.

+++++++++++

It was certainly visible to others.

After the silver sword fell and a shock and tremor resounded, the “Swords of Damocles” floating in the sky vanished one after another.

The test of being king, the crystal of supernatural power. It was in the heaven that he could not reach, even if he stretched out his hand, and it was about to disappear without him reaching it.

The "Red Queen" stared at that.

The sword, a symbol of the destiny that took from her family, but that also brought her something so precious, disappeared. At the same time, something inside her slowly...

"That disappeared..."

The words that Kamamoto murmured were also Anna's voice.

Disappear. The things that had bound them until now. The things that have brought them together until now. That will disappear.

Anna suddenly felt like someone was calling her and looked around her.

But she couldn't find it anywhere. That warmth and that beautiful red are no longer anywhere.

Feeling alone, Anna looked down and closed her eyes.

The "Blue King" watched the situation unfold with his usual calm.

Therefore, even when his "Sword of Damocles", a cracked symbol of power that seemed about to crumble, disappeared, he had no particular feeling about it. However, he simply said...

"It seems my life has been spared."

That's all she said.

However, Awashima, who was behind him, looked different. She dropped the saber she was holding and ran towards Munakata's back.

"Captain!"

Awashima was crying. Relief and joy are on all their faces. Munakata saw that, smiled slightly, and said casually.

"Hehe. I was a little curious to see if you could kill me, Awashima-kun. Anyway, thanks for your hard work."

At those words, something disappeared from Awashima's expression.

Before Munakata's clear mind could formulate a response, Awashima opened her mouth to ask what that was.

"Captain. I'm sorry, but gratitude is not enough."

"Eh?"

"Excuse me!"

Awashima's fist slammed into Munakata's cheek, sending his glasses flying and sending them crashing to the ground.

+++++++++++

"Nagare! Nagare!"

Kotosaka descended and screamed in pain next to Nagare.

However, Nagare did not move. With a satisfied smile on his face, he lay on the cold ground, not moving in the slightest. The fierce energy that had overflowed a moment ago could no longer be felt anywhere.

Kuro asked, still not letting his guard down.

"Is he dead?"

Shiro looked down in pain and responded.

"He survived thanks to the power of the "Slate". That's why..."

Those words were drowned out by the sudden sound of an explosion.

All three were hit by tremors that made it difficult for them to even stand. A low, resounding explosion sound echoed and deafened their ears. Kuro and Neko shouted in unison as they helped Shiro, who has become unstable.

"What is happening?!"

"Meow! Earthquake!"

In response to the clan member's dismay, Shiro remained calm. He looked up at the shaking ceiling and muttered to himself.

"No, someone blew it up."

"Ah. I'm sorry, but I have to fix things."

"What?!"

Kuro held his "Kotowari" in the direction of the voice. It was a familiar voice, and its owner was the one to be careful of along with Nagare.

"Gray King", Tenkei Iwafune.

He slowly walked out from behind the pillar. Blood flowed under his feet. Iwafune muttered with a self-deprecating smile on his mortal face.

"I never expected that situation to change... it was a complete defeat."

"...Kuro."

Without Shiro telling him, Kuro lowered his sword. Iwafune already lost his fighting power. No, he may already be on the verge of losing his life.

However, Iwafune showed no signs of worrying about his situation and simply said:

"I have also ordered my clansmen to flee. You should leave too."

The sounds of the explosion were getting louder. Small pieces of concrete fell from the cracked ceiling. Kotosaka flew away while he avoided them and shouted alongside Iwafune.

"Iwa-san! Iwa-san! Nagare is...! Iwa-san!"

With a weak smile on his blood-stained lips, Iwafune looked at Kotosaka with a gentle gaze.

"Haha. You too, Kotosaka. Now. Go!"

Kuro had no way of knowing what Kotosaka was thinking.

He hesitated for a moment and then flew away with a sad cry. From the hole in the ceiling to the clear blue sky. As if he was chasing him, Kuro also stretched out his colorless hand and jumped, holding Neko and Shiro in his arms.

Just before reaching the top, Kuro looked back for a moment.

Iwafune held Nagare in his arms and looked at him. His lips, with a wide smile, uttered some words.

He couldn't hear him. Kuro and his friends went up. Iwafune looked at Nagare with his eyes closed as if he were sleeping.

The explosive smoke enveloped the figures of the two "Kings", and since then nothing could be seen.

That was the scene at the end of the battle between the Kings.

+++++++++++

Amidst the roar of explosions and tremors, Kusanagi stood alone, staring at his feet.

"We won?"

Through Anna's supernatural network, he had already given an evacuation order. Most of the clan members in "Homura" should have been able to escape safely. Still, his role as Senior Official of the Reds was to wait until the last minute.

He still couldn't be sure what happened to the Silver Clan or the "Green King". They must be escaping alone, he thought, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Kusanagi-san! Let's run!"

It was Yata. Sliding his skateboard from the end of the hallway, he came straight toward him.

Kusanagi nodded silently and ran off with Yata. As Kusanagi headed towards the stairs leading to the upper floor, he couldn't help but ask Yata.

"What happened to Fushimi? Is everything okay?"

"Heh," Yata laughed. He looked back for a moment and then looked forward without hesitation.

"It's okay. It's okay now."

Kusanagi also laughed at his confident words. Yata-chan, who was good at running and going wild, had grown quite a bit. They ran together toward the light, feeling out of place.

Munakata's instructions were quick as tremors resonated from underground.

"All personnel, evacuate."

"Yes!"

Awashima accepted that and gave orders one after another through the intercom. It was supposed to be a normal scene from "Scepter 4", but the only difference was that Munakata's cheeks were very swollen and his glasses had gone somewhere.

The members running back and forth are surprised every time they see Munakata's face. However, Munakata's attitude was calm. After forcing themselves to accept that it was probably his fault, the members returned to their jobs.

At that moment he felt a presence behind him.

When he turned around, a man and a woman were about to appear, trying to get out from under the solid ground.

Douhan Hirasaka's "Wall Breaking Technique". Feeling satisfied that he was able to witness the ninja's skills, Munakata looked at Fushimi, who was being helped by her.

Fushimi had the same dull expression on his face as always. As expected, he felt tired, but he was not proud of having brought that operation to success. He simply said, as if nothing had happened.

"Mission accomplished."

"Thank you for your hard work."

Munakata responded as if nothing had happened and looked forward again.

+++++++++++

By the time they reached the ground, the noise of the impact had already subsided.

Kuro was the first to emerge from the sewer and, while helping Neko and Shiro, he quickly looked around.

It was an alley in the middle of nowhere. There were no members of the "Jungle" clan. Many people have already decided. Most likely they escaped or were captured.

Kuro breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to say that they were safe, he stumbled and fell to his knees on the ground.

"Shiro?!"

"Are you okay?!"

He clutched his chest in pain and sat with his back against the wall. He looked at the worried Kuro and Neko and smiled weakly.

"It seems that I am also running out of strength..."

"What does that mean?!"

"The body I'm in is not my original body... Before the incident at Gakuenjima, the "Colorless King" changed our bodies... In other words, he was taking over the body of a strange boy."

Kuro and Neko gasped at the same time.

They knew it. Isana Yashiro is a temporary name and the current Shiro is not the original body of Adolf K. Weismann. Due to the plot of "Fox Mask", the mastermind behind the incident a year ago, he was trapped in his current body.

Shiro spoke breathlessly.

"I have been able to continue existing thanks to the immutable power of the "Silver King", but... that power has disappeared. Along with the "Slate"..."

"What? Hey!"

"What? Hey, Shiro!"

Kuro and Neko felt a horrible sense of loss at the same time.

If he was able to stay in this world thanks to the silver supernatural ability, what will happen to him now that the "Slate" is gone?

"I've been borrowing it for a long time, but I have to return it to the original owner..."

"That is...!"

"Shiro...!"

With tears streaming down her face, Neko took Shiro's hand. Shiro smiled slightly and squeezed Neko and Kuro's hands tightly.

His palm was warm.

"...It's okay. I will definitely come back. Because I am your king..."

After that, he closed his eyes as if he were sleeping.

A silver light came out of Shiro's body. He disappeared as if he melted into space, leaving nothing behind.

"Shiro!"

"Shiro, wake up! Answer me!"

As they clung to Shiro and called desperately to him, his shoulders suddenly moved.

"Ah..."

He stirred and slowly opened his eyes. Kuro opened his eyebrows and looked at Shiro's face with relief. He thought that he had regained consciousness and that he had not gone anywhere.

But it was different.

Shiro's gaze looking at Kuro was filled with fear and confusion. That is not the expression of Isana Yashiro that they know. Like a child who had never seen them before, he looked at Kuro and Neko's faces, and timidly opened his mouth.

"Who are you?"

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bagog · 1 year ago

Text

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 21: Omni-tool

Continuing Mshenko drabbles in the Shepard museum.

More people were milling about in the Shepard Exhibit. The Reaper War wing was the reason most people came to visit the Alliance Military History Museum, and the museum knew it. The architecture of the place basically bent the crowds toward the popular wing, and the exhibits themselves were designed to facilitate those crowds and still offer each visitor an experience that felt personal.

“Do you suppose when this exhibit travels, every museum it goes too is gonna be this big?” Kaidan whispered.

“…this exhibit travels?” Shepard turned his head, eyes wide but brow heavy, looking at Kaidan overtop his sunglasses.

“Yes,” Kaidan snorted. “It’s been in the Smithsonian, Pathanaxx Provincial, the British Museum…”

“I thought it lived here,” Shepard’s expression was growing stony. “It at least makes sense here. What’s my armor doing hanging in a salarian natural history museum?”

“Attracting visitors by the millions,” Kaidan hissed conspiratorially, turning Shepard by the shoulders to show him how many people were now, at this very moment, gawking at his armor.

“This couldn’t feel any stranger.”

“I’ll take that bet, look over here,” Kaidan took his hand and led him to a wall of alcoves. Before Shepard could read the plaque, his audio-tour began to speak.

“Essential to every soldier, the omni-tool has seen use on the frontier and the front-lines for almost a decade. Commander Shepard’s omni-tool would have not only have been by his side day-to-day (from sending and logging comm signals, to processing messages, to reminding the Commander his schedule), but also on the battle field modifying his arsenal.

In these alcoves, you can access a copy of Commander Shepard’s authentic omni-tool. Fee free to scroll through the battle data taken during every battle of the Reaper War in which Commander Shepard took part. Listen to the famous comms recordings that signaled the turn of the tide in real time! ‘Spectre Access Granted’ to read the messages from the Council during the Citadel Coup! See what mods Shepard used to win the war!

Due to high traffic, we ask that you please keep your experience with the Commander Shepard Omni-Tool installation to a maximum of ten minutes.”

Shepard didn’t even respond, casting a side-eye towards Kaidan, who may or may not have noticed it before dragging Shepard toward one of the alcoves. Still ahead of the morning’s traffic, it wasn’t hard for them to find an unoccupied alcove. There was a cylindrical, rigid sleeve mounted tastefully on a pedestal within the enclosure, a sign indicating you should put your arm through the sleeve.

“Well?” Kaidan said, smiling/

“’Well’ what?” Shepard scoffed. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here.”

“It’s gotta be you, c’mon!”

Shepard rolled his eyes, but put his arm through the cylinder. A familiar orange haptic interface of an omni-tool glittered to life around his forearm. It was tastefully dim inside the alcove, and Kaidan removed his dark glasses to huddle closer to the interface.

“Well, it looks like my old home screen…” Shepard tapped interface and called up the menu.

“Look,” Kaidan pointed gingerly. There was writing on the home screen, dimmer orange than the rest, nestled in one corner.

Commander Shepard’s omni-tool was destroyed in the Crucible explosion, this recreation is an imprint of that omni-tool from several days before the battle of London.

“How about that?” Kaidan grinned. “What imprint are they talking about, I wonder?”

“Cronos Station? EDI would have backed up all ship networks before the battle with the Cerberus Fleet.” Shepard scrolled through the data logs. There was a log of all comms he’d received in the last six months of the war, there was telemetry data on various battlefields, maps coded in from planets where Shepard’s war effort had taken him. An idea struck him, “I think I have something to show you, actually.”

“Oh?”

Shepard quickly navigated to his notes page, finding the way surprisingly familiar, given he hadn’t touched the interface in years.

His notes page was blank.

“Hmm,” Shepard frowned. “I… I guess they didn’t transfer everything.”

“You gotta figure they’d go through and at least remove all the top-secret and personal stuff, huh?”

“I guess so…”

“What is it you were hoping to find?”

“A letter I wrote to you. I could’ve sworn I typed it out on my omni-tool before Cronos Station.” He looked up at Kaidan, “I thought I lost my chance to give it to you when the Crucible went off. Was just me talking about how I feel about you.”

Kaidan smiled, a warmth in his eyes. His voice was rich and deep when he finally spoke. “That’s… that’s really sweet, Shepard.” He leaned forward and they kissed above the orange glow. “Guess they couldn’t leave a love note in a museum exhibit.”

“I didn’t ever think I’d see that letter again and now that I can’t get it back, I’m upset.” He slipped his arm out of the haptic display and it disappeared. Before he could exit the alcove, Kaidan took his elbow. Kaidan put his own arm into the sleeve and the interface reappeared.

“Here’s how I know how you feel about me,” Kaidan said softly. It took him seconds to get the hang of Shepard’s home screen and quickly find the data he was looking for. “Look,”

“What is that?” Shepard stared, numbers, names…

“Hardsuit data from your fire team, based on mission. Look:” Kaidan let the screen scroll. ‘K. Alenko’ was at the top of the hardsuit data list for every encounter of the late war. “I was with you the whole time. Look, I’m all over, here!” He used both hands to gently take Shepard’s face inside his raised hood, with the haptic interface dimmed, he stared at Shepard. “And I will always be here. With you. I knew how you felt about me then, and I know now.”

Shepard didn’t know what to say, so he let Kaidan kiss him deeply.

“ExCUSE me!” Came the trilling alto of a young salarian voice. Kaidan and Shepard leapt apart and fumbled for their dark glasses. “If you’re just going to use the kiosks to make-out, please try not to stay past the time limit, hmmmmmm?”

They made hasty apologies and slinked out of the alcove.

#n7 month #n7month #mass effect #fanfic #mshenko

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pennzance · 3 months ago

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"My cat purrs so loudly, I call him my six cylinder kitty."

"I was wondering what that noise was. Wow."

#writing prompt #dialogue prompt

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museaway · 1 year ago

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for @tomatocages, who trick or treated via DM! ty for visiting! you receive this mug cake scene from an unfinished sheith WIP

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VLD / sheith (referenced). scene from the sequel to the incomprehensible vastness of space. in it, Shiro & Hunk are talking in the ship's kitchen. it references Shiro's past trauma from the original fic involving fear of healing pods

There wasn’t much to do besides wait for the ship to arrive. His bayard and uniform were clean, and training before a mission would only mean going into the situation exhausted, which wasn’t productive from a physical or mental perspective. It was best to do what Lance said. Shiro headed to the kitchen hoping there might be something left over.

The prepared food, though technically nutritious, couldn’t provide the satisfaction of biting into char-grilled ribeye or a big damn bowl of guacamole. Hunk tried his best to recreate the flavors from back home, but apart from those first few meals after Keith had broken him out of Galra captivity, when anything would’ve tasted better than the crap they force-fed the fighters, the last meal Shiro had truly enjoyed had been a pizza Keith had brought over before Shiro left Earth.

Shiro took his time, walking through the corridors at a leisurely pace. He’d had plenty of time to explore when he’d first come on board, since he hadn’t been a member of the crew and it was often days that Keith was away. In the time between becoming team leader and Zarkon falling ill, all he’d done in these corridors was run.

The kitchen lights were spilling into the corridor. Someone was humming. Shiro knocked twice before he entered, poking his head through the open doorway.

“With you in a second,” Hunk said.

He was standing next to the ship’s equivalent of a microwave and looking at his watch. He nodded every second. After six nods, he stopped the cooking cycle and took out a container. The room filled with the scent of chocolate.

“What are you making?” Shiro said.

“Mug cake. You want one?”

“What’s a mug cake?”

“It’s a cake in a mug. For times you want cake, but not a whole cake. It’s actually more like a brownie. And these cylinders were the closest thing I could find to a mug on the ship. Want me to make you one?”

“Uh, sure.”

Hunk handed him the one he’d just taken out. “Eat that while it’s hot,” he said, turning back to the counter and beginning to prep another. “These beans taste almost like chocolate. I wonder if they could be related.”

“You should ask Matt to do a DNA test.” Shiro took his first bite, almost too hot to eat. It scalded his tongue, but the chocolate flavor was so strong and authentic, his eyes watered.

“How is it?” Hunk asked.

“Amazing.”

Hunk grinned and put the second cake in to cook, keeping his eyes on his watch. “Hey, Shiro...that stuff Allura was saying earlier. You know we all trust you, right?”

Shiro took another bite and rolled it around in his mouth to cool it before swallowing. “I didn’t know she felt that way about Keith. What was it like when they worked together?”

“They’ve never been especially close, but it got a lot worse when Keith found out he was half Galran. I would think that’s still the reason, except Lotor’s Galran too—and Zarkon’s son. I mean, of the two of them, I can tell you which one I don’t trust. And...done!”

Hunk took out the steaming cake and stood next to Shiro to eat, leaning one elbow on the counter.

“What don’t you trust about him?” Shiro said.

“I can’t put my finger on it exactly,” Hunk said through a mouthful of cake. “He’s too good of a guy, you know? Always says the right things, has connections right where we need them, plus—have you looked at him? He’s pretty handsome. If we’re being honest, he’s probably the best looking guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Are you...?” Shiro said, raising one eyebrow.

“Nah,” Hunk said, catching his meaning. “I just have eyes. Though come to think of it, Keith’s not bad looking either. Maybe I have a thing for Galra. Hey, what are you gonna do if he grows another couple feet?”

It was possible, given Krolia’s size. Keith’s dad had died years before Shiro met Keith, but he’d seen a few pictures. Tex (his firehouse nickname, according to Keith—Shiro didn’t know his real one) must’ve been around Shiro’s height. He tried to imagine what Keith would look like with a few more inches and a thicker build. Shiro had never been into guys who were bigger than he was. He’d had Adam by thirty pounds even though they were about the same height.

“I’ve never kissed anyone taller than me,” he said.

“Oh, oh...I just got a mental image of that.”

Shiro laughed. “So what are you planning to do once this is all over?”

“Over like... we’ve passed the torch?” Hunk thought about it for a moment. “I want to go see my family. After that, I don’t know. I really thought I wanted to be part of the Garrison, but now I’m wondering if that’s the right path for me. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro said.

“I guess it’ll depend on what Keith’s doing, huh.”

“I think he’s going to stay with the Blade,” Shiro said.

“Wow.” Hunk took another bite. “I couldn’t believe how different he looks. He’s really changed. The old Keith would have blown up in that meeting. You think it’s his mom’s influence?”

“Maybe.” Shiro finished the last bite of cake and put the container and spoon in the dishwasher. Since he couldn’t survive on snacks, he dispensed a cup of prepared food.

“If you’re still hungry, I can make you something else,” Hunk offered.

“This is fine. Make me that cake again sometime, will you?”

“I’ll teach you. Then you can make it for Keith.” Hunk scraped the last of his from his cylinder. “I don’t want to brag, but this was really good.”

“Have you ever thought of cooking professionally?”

“I’m worried that might take the fun out of it, you know?”

Shiro had to think about that for a moment. He’d spent his early twenties obsessed with accomplishing as much as possible before his body betrayed him. Splitting his time between physical training and logging as many flight hours as allowed by regulation, he’d put aside hobbies. The only activity he could have considered stress relief with sex, and even then it hadn’t been fun by the end.

At least that had changed with Keith, although they’d only been together a handful of times. That might explain the intensity. Shiro had yet to be in bed with Keith and want to be anywhere else. He longed for those weeks when he’d been recovering and they spent all of their time together. They’d probably never be like that again, except for long weekends if they could both manage to take one. He sighed.

“You look tired,” Hunk said.

Shiro blinked. They’d just left Olkarion. He’d caught up on a week of sleep and had plenty of fresh air and sunlight, but all the fresh air in the universe couldn’t heal his genes.

“If you need to use a healing pod...” Hunk continued. “I know Matt goes with you. Totally cool if you’re not comfortable with me, but just putting it out there. If you want me to come with you, it’s no problem.”

It had been over a week since his last cycle. Shiro ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to have to see me like that.”

Hunk laughed. “Everyone on this team has seen me puke multiple times. I think you’re the only one I haven’t thrown up on.”

“If you really wouldn’t mind, a quick cycle’s not a bad idea.”

“Sure.” Hunk grinned. “Let me just grab a snack.”

“What was the cake?”

“Appetizer.”

Hunk ate a vegetable Shiro couldn’t pronounce as they walked to the medical bay. “Do I have to do anything while you’re in there?” he said.

“It’s pretty rare that it happens, but if it looks like I’m in distress, press the red button.”

“Claustrophobia?”

“Sort of.”

“But you’re okay in the Lions?” Hunk asked.

Shiro really hadn’t spoken about his time in captivity with anyone but Keith. Even Matt only knew a few details.

“The healing pods are similar to ones they threw us into when I was still fighting,” he said. “They didn’t open from the inside and sometimes they forgot about you.”

“Sounds horrifying,” Hunk said.

“It’s in the past. I just wanted to be honest about what the problem is. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it between us. Pidge is still young, and I don’t want her knowing about that.”

“I won’t say a thing,” Hunk said, and when he smiled, it was less the smile of an admiring kid and more of a friend’s.

He settled into Matt’s pillow nest while Shiro changed. Hunk was right. In spite of the sleep and good food lately, there were shadows under his eyes when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

“Oh,” Hunk moaned from the other room. “This is so comfortable. Shiro, I’m coming with you every time.”

He said Shiro looked better after the cycle had completed. If Shiro dreamed, he didn’t remember it. There was still half a day before they reached their destination. Sleep it was. Hunk walked Shiro back to his room.

“I’m fine,” Shiro assured him. “It’s only when I’m in the pod.”

“I don’t need Keith mad at me because I didn’t take good care of you.”

Hunk clapped him on the shoulder and went into his own room.

Shiro lay in the dark for a long time, but his mind wouldn’t rest. He tapped his watch to bring up Keith’s contact information. He was out of range. Shiro opened a new message anyway, at a loss for what to say. He typed miss you but erased it. He didn’t need to make Keith feel worse than he already did being apart.

In the end, what he sent was, Hunk’s going to teach me to bake.

#inbox trick or treating #sheith #replies #my writing tag #fic: TIVOS

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