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ampleappleamble · 3 years ago

Text

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And Caed Nua received her gladly.

As the weary little group of adventurers had made their way back east, Axa's condition had slowly but certainly improved– although she'd been understandably quiet and sullen when they'd stopped to stay the night in Dyrford again ("It's funny– just after y'all left, who'd we find but Lord Harond, dead in his room," the innkeeper had stated, a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. "Terrible loss. Tragic, really. More ale? On the house.") But by the time they'd set foot on the road leading up to Caed Nua, the little Watcher had been smiling again, cracking jokes with her companions, even singing a bit here and there, and the Steward had been quite happy to welcome her Lady back home in such high spirits.

In Axa's absence, the Steward had continued commissioning work on the keep, bankrolling the construction mostly with favors owed by allies and credit backed by Axa's good reputation– and aided, as ever, by Engrim's audacious, stubborn wheedling. First, in the main keep: a barracks to house guards that could keep the castle safe from invaders (from within as much as from without) and to patrol the surrounding roads, thus preventing the new thaynu from losing all of her subjects' taxes to bandits. And once that steady source of revenue had been secured, the stone matron had turned her attentions toward restoring a few core locations scattered across the premises: the western barbican, the training grounds, the towers, the chapel. And, of course, Brighthollow.

The last time they'd been inside the once stately manor, Axa and her crew had found it so vermin-infested and dilapidated that they'd been forced to set up camp on the floor in the keep's main hall instead. The pool in the courtyard had been a dried-up, crumbling mess of ruined marble and corroded metal; the stench of mold and rot from the kitchen hearth had repelled them so fiercely as to make it nearly impossible to cross the threshold. The upper floor had not even been accessible back then much less livable, the stairs having been splintered to uselessness and the stairwell clogged with debris. But now Brighthollow truly lived up to its name again, a shining beacon of class and comfort nestled in the very heart of Caed Nua: the fountain in the courtyard pool burbled melodiously, arcane torchlight glinting off the polished marble as the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted out from the kitchen and drifted up the pristine stairwell to the comfortable, fully furnished bedchambers above.

Edér had whistled in awe upon first seeing the renovations. "Careful now. You start gettin' too fancy, throwin' dinner parties and whatnot, I don't know if we can be friends anymore," he'd quipped, throwing a wry grin Axa's way.

"My, what a terrible shame that would be," Aloth had retorted, rolling his eyes even as they twinkled with awe at the manor's fresh splendor. "Rest assured, Edér: should Axa's couth rise to unacceptable levels, your esteemed company will be sorely missed."

But Axa hadn't returned to Caed Nua to host any swanky soirées, nor to referee slapfights between her friends over the Steward's choice of decor. She'd come back home to rest, to rejuvenate her badly frayed nerves, to compose her thoughts and gather the courage to do what work still remained ahead of her. And rest she did– as best she could, anyway. For although her masterfully refurbished chambers kept the Dyrwood's weather and wildlife out, they did very little to protect her from herself, and the nightmares were getting worse. She awoke on the floor more often than in her bed, and according to her companions, the moaning and whimpering she'd exhibited before had graduated to screaming as of late. On one occasion, to her great embarrassment, she'd apparently been loud enough to not only wake some of her companions in the middle of the night, but also to compel them to rush to her side.

And as Kana had helped her back into bed that night, his hand warm on her shoulder as Aloth fidgeted in the doorway, that was when she'd announced her decision to return to the Endless Paths. Taking a little time to oneself to rest and recuperate was all well and good, but Axa knew herself to be the type of person who'd be driven to madness by simply sitting around doing nothing, not acting on her feelings, struggling against her oppressors. And fulfilling her promise to Kana while also hopefully shedding some light on the strange and dangerous state of affairs in her basement had seemed as good an opportunity to get back into her boots as any.

Kana had been thrilled, of course. Aloth had knitted his brow in concern. "You're... quite certain that's what you want to do? Our last foray into the Paths almost ended very badly, and you're– forgive me for saying so, but you're not exactly at your best right now. Perhaps we could escort Kana down, and you could remain up here, where it's–"

"I don't need to be coddled, Aloth," she'd interrupted. "What I need is to quit moping and get off my ass so I can actually do something that at least makes me feel like I still have a little control over my life." She'd smiled up at Kana, then, had gently laid her hand atop his, still loosely gripping her shoulder. "Besides, Kana's been a great help to me– to all of us. And I gave him my word that I'd help him find what he's looking for. Plus, we're all much more capable now than we were the last time we went down there, and with a better idea of what we'll be up against, too. We can finish the job this time, I'm sure of it."

Kana had enthusiastically agreed, prattling away about camaraderie and determination as his grin had grown ever wider. Aloth had said nothing, but he'd gritted his teeth so hard Axa could hear it from across the room.

She thought back on that moment now as she sat beneath the adra pillars encircling Caed Nua's newly restored chapel, staring up into the clear night sky. It was hard to believe that conversation had taken place only just last night– the twenty-some-odd hours following it had seemed to fly by, and so much had happened. The tablet had been there, just as Kana had predicted, but of course it hadn't been as simple a task as just strolling down and claiming it. They'd first had to fight through the hoards of darguls and giant beetles that infested the ancient halls, and the deadly blights produced by the bizarre machines that dominated the ancient Engwithan laboratory. And after they'd gotten the door to Gabrannos' personal study open, they'd had the author of the tablet himself to deal with, his own arcane depravities having transformed the once revered scholar into a crazed, decrepit skeleton that had attacked Axa and her crew on sight.

And after all that, it turned out that dispatching Gabrannos and his abominations had been the easy part. What came after, discovering the fate of the tablet itself and the aftermath, that had been difficult. Kana had been devastated to find what had become of his long-sought prize, and understandably so. He'd struggled through years of intensive research and months of wearisome travel, pitted his life against beasts and spirits and Leaden Key assassins, only to have it all lead up to this– some useless, scattered chunks of rock, worn smooth by time and smashed to illegibility by the madman who'd authored them. Axa had tried her best to cheer him, reminding him of the unprecedented anthropological, historical, and archeological discoveries they'd made possible by even progessing this far into the Endless Paths, and his response had made it seem to her that she'd helped ease his disappointment, at least a little bit. She hoped she'd helped. Kana was a good man, intelligent and passionate and loyal, and he deserved some sort small consolation from all this.

Getting rather fond of him, aren't we?

The thought took her by surprise, and she felt a smirk tug at her quickly warming cheeks even as her brow furrowed. No, no, we're... it's not like that.

Why not? He's fond of you.

The image of the aumaua's smiling face sprung up suddenly in her mind's eye, followed closely by some other, more specific memories: Kana's voice ringing out as he sang a song he knew to be a favorite of hers, Axa passing him her pipe for a toke and getting it back warm and damp from his mouth, the bead of water that had rolled slowly across his collarbone and down his chest as he'd strolled about shirtless in his room at the Goose and Fox. Her smirk broadened into a goofy grin. It all made her feel... not exactly aroused, but something adjacent to it. Giddy, perhaps, or eager.

Well, alright, fine. Maybe it is like that. A bit. And so what if it is?

Aloth's face popped into her mind, his long, slender ears and his high cheekbones. What about him?

She blinked, frowned, her face growing uncomfortably hot. What about him? She thought of him on their first night together in Gilded Vale, just standing there wringing his hands while she wept on the floor, and then last night, clinging to the doorjamb and looking at his feet while Kana sat with her on her bed. He's not interested. Or if he is, he certainly hasn't tried to make it known.

But other memories drifted back to her– Aloth holding the door for her at the Black Hound Inn; his hand gripping hers, warm and trembling, as she guided him through his memories in the animancer's office; that shy little smile he only ever seemed to show to her. She glared at her knees, flustered and conflicted.

Just because I happen to find him attractive– just because I'm helping him through a personal problem, that doesn't mean– and after what Vaargys put me through, don't I–

"So here you are!"

The sudden bellowing of Kana's voice nearly made the little woman jump out of her fur, although she still couldn't help but smile up at him as he approached, even as her heart hammered in her throat. He smiled back. "I thought you'd gone to bed already. I was about to settle down for the night myself, but..."

"Too wound up to sleep?" She scooted to one side, inviting him to sit next to her. "I've been there. Many times."

He chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling in the light of the waxing moon as he lowered himself to the ground. "I'll bet you have," he replied, making himself comfortable as he leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Even before you became a Watcher, I imagine. Truly, the life of a scholar is one rife with hardship and adversity, much more so than the average layman would ever expect of us soft-fingered page-flippers."

Axa laughed, an uncharacteristically coquettish giggle that actually shocked her a bit to hear coming from herself. "True enough! Although with this adventuring lifestyle I've adopted as of late, I expect my fingers will have calluses to rival Edér's before too long." She brushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear, glanced down at his hand lying flat against the ground between them. "Um. How are you holding up? You seem to be taking all this rather well, I have to say. Not that it's surprising– nothing seems to dampen your spirits for very long."

Kana's smile broadened even as he winced. "Oh, I'm... I'm coming to terms with it, I think. Slowly. Don't get me wrong, your encouragement has helped a great deal, and I certainly have some ideas about what to tell the lore college when I return to Tâkowa, but... to think that the true, original message of the Tanvii ora Toha must forever remain a mystery..." He shook his head slowly, the thick, dark coils of his hair bouncing gently against his jaw.

She looked again at his hand on the ground, a hair's breadth from her hip, and before she could talk herself out of it, she laid her own hand atop his, squeezing gently. "The true message of the Tanvii ora Toha is what the people of Rauatai have made of it, the lessons they've taken from it and applied to their lives and the lives of those around them every day. Whatever that old tablet actually happened to say, it could never change the impact it's already made." Her voice was warm and steady and reassuring, even as her stomach fluttered and flipped inside her. She squeezed his hand again. "You could offer it up to Wael, if you think it'd help. It can be Their mystery, Their secret to keep."

He laughed, soft and warm and sweet, and Axa's heart skipped a beat as the huge hand turned over in her grip and squeezed back. "Oh, Axa," he murmured, fixing his eyes on the little woman. "You always know just what to say. It helps that you're always right, too, of course."

"Yes, well..." She tried to meet his gaze but found it impossible, so she stared at her knees instead. "It probably also helps that I've a good deal of personal experience with losing years' worth of hard work to what was essentially nothing more than–"

–his hands were much smaller, delicate despite the scars, always cool to the touch–

"–than a bout of extraordinarily bad luck." It left a bad taste in her mouth to reduce her former fiancé to that, even after all the trouble he'd caused her, but she said it all the same.

"Vaargys, you mean?" Kana's ever-present smile drooped, his demeanor turning solemn. "I'm sorry. It must have been so much more difficult for you, losing so much in one fell swoop like that. Your research, your career, your lover... And now, when you should be healing from all that and focusing on your new life here in the Dyrwood, instead you have the Leaden Key and your Awakening to contend with." He turned his whole body toward her, then, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering as his gaze flitted from her hair to her face to her eyes to her lips. "And you've still found the time to lend me your aid, too, just out of the kindness of your heart! If... if there's ever anything I can do to help you..."

"I think–" Her breath quickened suddenly as something wild and reckless rose up inside her, seized her, made her look hard into his eyes, her gaze bold and hungry. "I think there may be something you can do for me, yes. If you're willing."

"I am." He was already leaning toward her, his eyes drifting shut. "You need only ask–"

"Alright then," she purred, reaching up and pulling him closer. "Come here."

Axa had never considered herself to be particularly well versed in the ways of love. She'd learned from a young age to guard her heart closely, and so far only two men had ever managed to earn a place in it– Rhys, a farm boy from Readceras who she'd met near the start of her college career, and of course, later on, Vaargys. The first time Rhys had kissed her, they had just spent the whole afternoon playing hooky by the riverbank on the outskirts of town, talking and laughing and flirting, and as he'd brushed his lips shyly against hers, she'd felt a great surge of pleasure and warmth that had seemed to expand and burst inside of her, scattering throughout her mind and body like the rays of the setting sun on the river's choppy surface. The first time she'd kissed Vaargys, she had just finished bandaging an old scar on his brow that had reopened, and as she'd gently swept a curl of blue-white hair from his temple, he'd looked up at her with such reverence and adoration and longing that when she'd inevitably pressed her mouth into his, she'd felt almost heroic, as though she were fulfilling some grand and holy destiny.

But when her lips met Kana's, all she felt was a jolt of confusion followed by profound disappointment– as though she'd popped a piece of her favorite honeycake into her mouth only to find that the baker had forgotten to put any honey in it.

What frustrated her most was that she didn't have any particular reason for feeling the way she did. It had all felt so right at first, she and Kana pairing up like this. It wasn't as though he'd done or said something to repel her, and she certainly didn't dislike him all of a sudden. But all the same, as soon as their lips had touched, any amorous inclinations she'd built up in her mind toward him were dashed asunder in an instant, gone, like a puff of smoke in a gust of wind. And now here she was, still locked into this ridiculous farce of a kiss with him. Only now did she really notice how awkwardly she'd had to position herself in order for her face to reach all the way up to his, and her body was starting to protest. The breath from his nose tickled her cheek. His hand was clammy against her jaw. She wondered how long this would have to go on before she could pull away while still sparing his feelings, wondered if sparing his feelings would even still be possible after this. Eventually, mercifully, the moment passed, and the two of them eased back, eyes still half-lidded, cheeks flushed, regarding one another for a very long, very uncomfortable moment.

She spoke first, quietly, carefully. "I... Kana, I'm– that was–"

"Horrible," he blurted.

Axa blinked at him in shock, and then they both burst out laughing.

"Yes!" she cried finally, struggling to catch her breath. "Yes! Oh, thank the gods you thought so too!"

He rubbed at his mouth, still giggling madly. "Ondra's teeth, how could I not? We were– that was–"

"Awful!" Her hands flailed, gesticulating wildly. "There was nothing there, no fire, no spark, just–"

"I know!" he whooped. "Like kissing my pillow! Like kissing one of my sisters!"

She cackled. "Like kissing a good book!"

That did it. The two of them practically collapsed with laughter, doubling over and clutching at their bellies, rolling about on the cool, wet grass. It had been a long time since Axa had laughed like this, and although her midsection quickly grew sore, she was so relieved to be done with the whole mess that she hardly even noticed.

"Oh, Kana, I'm– I'm sorry," she sighed at last, still hitching and snorting here and there, wiping tears from her cheeks. "This can't be how you thought this was going to go."

"Well, no, but–" He sat back up quickly, eyes wide. "No, no! None of that! You've nothing to apologize for! If anything, I ought to be apologizing to you!"

"You didn't do anything I didn't invite you to do," she replied, patting his arm reassuringly. "And honestly, I should have known better than to try something like this here, now. I'm in absolutely no state of mind to be pursuing any kind of romantic relationship at the moment, what with all the going mad and chasing down a cult..."

"All the more reason, really, to try and find some small avenue of escape for yourself, some pleasurable distraction. No shame in that. I, on the other hand..." He heaved a heavy sigh, turned to look up at the sky again. "I think, perhaps, I was still hoping for some sort of fantastic storybook ending to the Tale of Kana Rua and his Search for the Lost Tablet." He chuckled ruefully. "If our hero can't get the treasure, he should at least get the girl, right? But..."

"But life doesn't always go the way the old tales would have us believe it should," Axa finished for him. She remembered Rhys, staring at the ground with his fists clenched as he told her he had to drop out and return to Readceras, to assist his ailing uncles on his family's meager farm. She remembered Vaargys, his back slowly retreating from her as her books burned behind her.

She remembered Aloth standing in the doorway, grinding his teeth.

"Exactly. And anyway, I don't think this is my story anymore, if it ever even truly was." Kana smiled down at her thoughtfully, gently placing a hand between her shoulder blades. "I think it's your story. And it's nowhere near finished yet."

She grimaced. "If that's the case, I've a Hel of a bone to pick with the author."

"It's a thorny plot they've saddled you with, you'll get no argument from me there." Sympathy shone in his obsidian eyes even as his smile grew huge again. "But I'm right here alongside you, your loyal supporting character! And I intend on seeing you through to the very last chapter."

Axa chuckled wryly, a much more familiar sound to her ears than the ditzy giggle that had burbled out of her earlier. "I appreciate it, Kana, truly. I can always count on your undying optimism, can't I? Even after relegating you from love interest to deuteragonist."

"Oh, that's not such a bad role to play. Less dangerous than protagonist, at any rate." He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, his grin turning sly. "Besides, Aloth makes a much better love interest than I. Don't you agree?"

"I– wh–" Axa would have been less shocked if he'd kissed her again. "Gods, Kana! What are you– D-did he say...?"

Kana threw his head back and laughed, a hearty, throaty bark of pure delight. "Oh-ho! Oh, Axa, your face! You poor woman!" He chuckled a fair bit longer, even as she squirmed with embarrassment beside him, her face burning. "Forgive me, but– did you really not know? Our little rivalry over you? He's not exactly subtle about it! He thinks he is, mind you–"

"Kana–" Her voice came out a bit sharper than she'd really intended it to, but he fell silent all the same. "...Please. I meant what I said earlier, about not being in a good place to try and start a romance right now. And frankly, I don't think he is, either. We both have too much work to do on ourselves to be good partners to anyone right now, let alone to one another." She sighed wistfully, surprised at how depressing it felt to actually admit it, before cocking an eyebrow at the other Chanter. "I'm trusting you to keep this to yourself, you understand."

Kana held his huge hands up in front of himself, presenting his palms in a clear show of surrender. "Of course, of course. You have my word." He gave her a cheeky wink before hoisting himself to his feet with a soft grunt. "Well! I'm certainly ready for a good night's sleep now. And maybe a cold bath as well. Shall I help you up? It's a long day ahead of us tomorrow, trekking back to Defiance Bay, and it'd be in your best interest to get in as much sleep as you can."

Axa shook her head, her thick burgundy curls falling in front of her face. "Don't worry about me," she murmured. "I'll be in soon. For now, I think I'd just like a moment to myself."

She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her tightly folded legs, and she waited until Kana's footsteps faded into the distance, until she heard Brighthollow's front door open and close again, waited until she knew she was truly alone. Then, only then, did she let herself have it.

Fool.

You fool. You fool. You stupid, foolish, fucking idiot girl. You knew something like this was going to happen. It happened before, too, when you ran off to the Land. You ran away from your home, from your family, from everything you'd ever known, and what did it get you? Vaargys, that's what. And as soon as that blew up in your face– despite a robust campaign of denial and willful ignorance on your part– you ran away again, here, to the Dyrwood, trying to escape the consequences of your own stupid mistakes. And for what? So you can do it all over again somewhere new? Fall in love with an emotionally unstable liar again, get your heart broken again, fuck up your whole life and then run away from it again? Well, there's nowhere left to run now, girl. If you don't start taking this seriously and stop wasting what precious little time and energy you have left getting yourself tangled up in the lives of others, you'll lose your mind, or you'll fuck up on one of your ridiculous little people-pleasing side jobs, or one of your many new enemies will find you while you're weak and vulnerable, and you'll end up dead.

What's it going to take, Axa? What's it going to take for you to learn your fucking lesson?

And finally, the tears came. And she buried her face in her knees, powerless to stop them.

—

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #fic wip #this scene has been knocking around in my head since before i started writing anthem infinitum at all #glad to finally get it all out #some favorite turns of phrase from this passage:#soft-fingered page-flippers #axa saying she has a Hel of a bone to pick with the author of her story *cough*#relegated from love interest to deuteragonist #anyway #thanks for reading ♡

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alphynix · 4 years ago

Photo

Transcript for the text on the image under the cut:

PAGE 1

Spectember 2020 #10 | nixillustration.com | alphynix.tumblr.com Concept suggested by: anonymous

Marine Temnospondyls

(Ghotiidae)

Descended from the archegosauroids, a fully aquatic group of Permian temnospondyl amphibians, the GHOTI was the closest that tetrapods ever came to actually turning back into fish.

Already retaining a rather fish-like physiology from early tetrapods, with tiny bony scales within their skin and internal gills as adults, these temnospondyls had a metabolism more like air-breathing fish than modern amphibians. While they were still facultative air-breathers using lungs to get the majority of their oxygen, their gills allowed them to stay submerged for much longer between breaths, sometimes for as much as several hours at lower levels of activity.

Like the later trematosaurids, basal ghotiids developed tolerance to saltwater and adapted to a marine predator lifestyle. But their lineage took it much further, modifying the somewhat crocodile-like body plan of their ancestors into a highly streamlined convergently ichthyosaur-like form – an ecological niche largely unexploited by tetrapods during the Permian.

Ghoti reventum, a highly derived ghotiid, reached lengths of about 4m (13'). A row of large keeled osteoderms along its spine formed a low ridge-like dorsal fin, and unlike most other temnospondyls it had polydactylous limbs with six digits each. The forelimbs formed large flippers used for steering and stabilization, and the almost vestigial paddle-like hindlimbs were kept held flush against the body, used only as "claspers" to hold onto each other during mating.

After internal fertilization and several months of development, gravid females gave live birth to litters of small larvae in shallow "nursery" waters. Just 15cm long (6"), bearing external gills and not particularly resembling their parents, these larvae didn't undergo as drastic a metamorphosis as modern amphibians do, instead only gradually changing as they grew into juveniles and then adults over the course of around 20 years.

[Image: a small axolotl-like larval amphibian with a blunt snout, large eyes, and external gills.] Larval form (not to scale)

[Image: a juvenile with a more fish-like body shape, smaller external gills, a longer snout, and its front flippers larger than its hind flippers.] Juvenile (not to scale)

[Image: an adult ghoti, a streamlined ichthyosaur-like amphibian with a long crocodile-like snout, large front flippers, a dorsal ridge, tiny hind flippers, and a shark-like vertical tail fluke. Below it a tiny larva is shown to scale, just 3% the length of the adult.] Adult ← Larva to scale

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[Image: a view of the ghoti's head with its jaws open. There are rows of extra teeth along its palate, some of which are large and fang-like.] The inside of a ghoti's mouth was lined with rows of extra teeth on the palate and thousands of tiny hook-like denticles, helping it grip onto slippery marine prey like fish and soft-bodied cephalopods.

[Image: a swimming ghoti, with close-up details of some tiny parasites on its skin and an x-ray view of the bone structure of its front flipper, showing six "fingers".] Temnospondyls usually had four digits in their forelimbs – but the ghoti’s flippers were polydactylous, with a total of six. Ghoti were often infested with “fish lice”, a type of small parasitic crustacean.

#spectember 2020 #spectember #speculative evolution #specevo #marine temnospondyls #ghoti #science illustration #art #not paleoart

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voidendron · 5 years ago

Text

Deep Blue Sea: Ch. 16

Chapter 16: Abandoned Subnautica/JSE Egos Crossover

(( note: I haven’t played/watched gameplay for Below Zero yet, so please don’t spoil anything for me! Things from this fic might retcon stuff that happens in it, and I apologize if they do, but I don’t want to spoil any more of the game for myself than what already has been ‘til I can play the whole thing through myself ))

Warnings: Swearing Characters: Marvin the Magnificent, Jameson Jackson, Dr. Schneeplestein, Chase Brody, Jackieboy Man POV: Marvin the Magnificent

Silence.

Pale Faces.

Keen’s words hung in the air between them.

“…We need to help him.” Jackie’s voice startled the rest of them from their shocked trance.

Marvin swallowed. Shook his head. Oh, hell no. “Are you insane?!” He ran his hands through his hair with a shaky breath. “There’s somethin’ here! We need to get off this island!”

“I am not putting my life on the line for someone else,” the doctor growled.

Jameson signed something—Marvin had no idea what it was, but his frantic nodding had him figuring that the chef agreed with them.

“He’s in danger!” the security guard insisted. “The recording was recent—he could still be alive!”

“Jackie’s right.”

Marvin’s head whipped toward Chase when he agreed. “No. No, no, no. He’d been so damn calm in his other messages, and how he’s panicking! You really want to run into whatever made Keen panic?!”

Chase frowned. “It’s a small island. How bad could it be?”

Their three-against-two changed when Jameson ducked his head, then offered an agreeing nod. He was signing again—Marvin would really need to learn those, wouldn’t he?—and the other two so…hellbent on saving Keen sagged with relief.

“Really no other way to change your minds?” the entertainer asked.

“We’ve gotta find Keen,” Jackie repeated, “and hopefully Yu, too. There were only two of ‘em, there’s five of us.”

“Yeah!” Chase was tucking his flippers and Seaglide near some…ferns? was that what they were?

“And if something does come after us?” Marvin challenged, gesturing harshly first at the doctor, then Jameson. “Doc’s ankle is fuckin’ shredded and James’s got broken ribs. They’d be picked off easy.”

“Anything attacks either of them—any of us—” Jackie hoisted up his broken flare in threat; he didn’t have to say any more than that.

Marvin and Henrik glanced at each other. For once, it seemed like they were both on the same page: They did not want to meet whatever had gone after Keen. Did the other three just not understand self-preservation? God…

He tossed his flippers near where the others were putting theirs. His air tank and Seaglide followed, but he was far more careful not to throw those down.

Seeing Henrik’s flippers actually laying with everyone else’s made him double-take. Marvin had always thought he had big feet. Definitely made sense why both of them had needed more materials than the original dive suit blueprint had called for.

Deep breath. The others were leaving the beach, leaving the two of them behind. Well, Marvin would much rather stick with the group than be left alone on the island.

“Come on,” he grumbled. He really wished they’d brought survival knives. He’d feel a little better if he could at least defend himself. “So!” he called ahead—both Chase and Jackie glanced back at him. “Any plan for what we’re gonna do if we find whatever went after them?”

“Depends on what it is, I guess.” Chase shrugged; he was walking backwards now.

Marvin just frowned and shook his head, watched the path ahead of them.

Wait.

…Path?

Henrik was eyeing it, too.

“Please tell me you’re thinking the same thing.”

“Something has traveled this same route for a long while, yes.”

They were following the path, and Marvin couldn’t help the unease settling into his gut. The feeling only amplified when they came across an old habitat and its overgrown garden.

Glances cast around, and Jackie was the first to approach the settlement.

It looked abandoned. Falling apart. Broken windows.

It had been there a long time.

“…I don’t think we’re the first to get stranded here,” Jackie said, voice soft.

Then, he was suddenly yelping; Marvin and the others jumped and scrambled away. From the way Marvin saw it, he was acting solely on instinct when he swung his flare and the little ankle-biter of a creature went flying.

When he blinked at it, Marvin actually found it in himself to snort. Was that thing some kind of…crab?

“Scared the hell outta me,” Jackie muttered, “but there’s no way that’s what had Keen panicked.”

“Unless he got swarmed?” Marvin suggested.

“Maybe..? I’m don’t know…”

Chase cleared his throat, pointing to the habitat. “They had to have made it off the planet, right?” Chase was inching forward, toward the multipurpose room’s shattered window. It looked like a mudslide had caused it. “I mean, it’s clearly been abandoned a long time.”

Marvin’s eyes were scanning the old habitat. He didn’t like this.

“Yo, check this thing out!”

When Chase tried bolting in through the broken window, Marvin grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. “That window’s broken. You really want to step on glass with bare feet?”

“But look!”

Marvin’s gaze followed his pointing finger. There was…something, in the room. Glowing. It didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before. “What is that thing..?”

“I mean. It looks like the mud’s covered all the glass?”

When Marvin’s grip slackened, he must have taken that as a go-ahead and ran into the room. He was careful while climbing through the window not to cut himself on any of the glass that still remained, and when he came back he had something in each hand.

“There was a data log, too. Also, this thing’s surprisingly light? Like…what is it?”

He gave the data log to Jackie to put in his PDA, then set the glowing whatever-it-was on the ground between all of them.

“Is like a tablet,” Henrik said.

“Yeah,” Chase agreed, “but it doesn’t look human.”

It seemed Marvin and Henrik had the same idea when they both reached for their scanners. Marvin’s scan finished first, and everyone’s PDAs chirped as the data was transmitted to all of them. When he read the information, he only shook his head.

“I really doubt it’s human. Estimated to being abandoned here hundreds-to-thousands of years ago? Yeah, definitely not ours.”

“Alien technology?” Henrik winced as he knelt down to pick it up, ran his fingers over the glowing purple symbol. “What were these people doing with it?”

“Well, from the sounds of it,” Jackie said—another chirp as the data log transferred from his device to the rest of theirs, “—they found it, and also had no idea what it was.”

“They? How many?”

“I count four people in the recording. Three men and a woman, but I’m relying on the PDA translating for me ‘cause they’re definitely not speaking English.”

Marvin opened the new file on his own device, listened for a moment, then shut it off to read over the translation instead. “Sounds like they were from a Mongolian settlement. I don’t speak it, but I’ve performed for one a few times.”

Four people had lived in this now-abandoned habitat: Two Torgals (probably related, he figured), Sepse, Maida. Where had they gone..?

When Chase and Jackie explored the rest of the habitat and came back with a few more data logs, it looked like where they’d gone was deeper. Much, much, deeper.

Apparently they were part of Torgal Corporation—no wonder the names were familiar. Paul was the head of the company and had gone missing about ten years ago. It hadn’t been the same since.

…Ten years ago. God. They’d never made it off the planet, had they? Would that be their fate, too? He could feel his stomach twisting.

Bart was Paul’s son and heir to the company, Marguerit Maid a hired mercenary, and Antony Sepse a microbiologist.

He could see it in the pale faces of his comrades they all feared the same fate, and it was Chase to break their silence.

“I…I kinda doubt we’re in the mood now, but I see two more habitats.” He outstretched an arm, pointing. “There, and there.” Perched oh so precariously at the tops of two mountain peaks were, sure enough, two more habitats clear even through the fog that seemed to have lifted some. “C’mon. We can still try findin’ Keen and Yu. Who knows. Maybe we’ll have better luck than that group did.”

Marvin closed his eyes and took a slow, steadying breath. They’d find a way off the planet. They had to. But…did that really mean rescue never came for that group..? No, don’t think about it, he scolded himself. Instead, he offered a hand to help Henrik back to his feet, and the five of them started for one of the habitats.

What they found didn’t lift their spirits any. A PDA, not a data log, met them. Bart and Antony—the other two were dead?—regretting going down so far. Bart was ill in the recording. With the scientist’s help, they were trying to find a cure, but failing. One of them mentioned that Antony was wearing a special suit—some sort of hazmat diving suit—that had kept him from catching the same illness, and now left him needing to be extremely careful not to touch Bart with his bare hands.

Then it was over. Nothing more to the recording; just a dying man and one of his crew members trying to save him.

“I’m really startin’ to hate this planet,” Chase growled. “What do you think he had?”

Instead of an answer, Henrik pulled his scanner from his hip and ran a scan on himself. The answer had Marvin furrowing his brow.

“Performing self-scan. Vital signs normal. Detecting trace amounts of foreign bacteria. Continuing to monitor.”

He aimed it at Jameson. Same answer. Jackie: Same. Every one of them ended up with the same results. “Trace amounts of foreign bacteria” just kept looping in Marvin’s head. That couldn’t be good. Right? How the hell would they even have it? They didn’t even know that it was the same thing Bart had, but a part of Marvin very much was suspecting that it was.

“Could just be…I dunno, some sorta alien flu?” Chase shook his head and stood a little straighter. “We’ll keep an eye on it, okay? Don’t let it get to you, though. We’ll worry about it if we need to.”

If we need to, Marvin’s thoughts parroted. As if they hadn’t just listened to a man dying in a recording.

“…Do we really want to check that last habitat?” Marvin leaned out the door to peer across at it. “Things are just getting fuckin’ worse and worse on this island.”

Keen and Yu attacked by something. Survivors from ten years before who’d probably died long before rescue could even hope to find them. Some weird alien artifact that Henrik and Jameson were taking turns carrying. An alien sickness.

“Whatever is there can only be the cherry on top, yes?” Henrik grumbled. He was leaning against the wall, foot held off the ground. Jameson was sitting on the floor near him, eyes squeezed shut and hand pressed to his chest.

“Besides,” Marvin added, “those two clearly need a rest, and I am not resting on this island. Far as we know, whatever went after Keen and Yu could be, oh I don’t know, watching us?!”

Chase grimaced and gave Jackie a look.

“We, ah…” He ran a hand through his bleached hair, fingers catching the tangled curls. “What if we have them head back to the habitat? And…you can join ‘em?”

Jackie started nodding. “We can’t just abandon those two if they’re still alive. I’m not doin’ it.”

“And splitting up is probably the worst thing we can do,” Marvin muttered.

“We either split up, or all go to the next habitat together. I’m not leavin’ this damn island until we at least know what happened to them.” Chase crossed his arms, closing himself off for further debate. He’d made up his mind and there was no way Marvin was going to change it.

“Fine.” Marvin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I want them alive just as much as you do, but I’m not risking my life for them.”

Chase shouldered past him. “Then let’s get back to the damn beach so you can leave. Fuckin’ hell.”

Did Marvin feel guilty for it? Sure. Did he feel awful leaving just the two of them on the island while he took their injured comrades back to their habitat? Sure.

Was he going to risk his life for someone who sounded like they probably dead anyway? Hell no. Marvin knew his priorities, and that definitely wasn’t one of them. He felt bad for Keen and Yu, holped that whatever killed them hadn’t let them suffer, or that they had, by some miracle, survived—but he wasn’t going to stick his neck out for them.

He’d had enough near-death experiences these last few days to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

Flippers back on, air tanks attached to their masks, Jameson helped into the Seamoth, and they were off.

His only thoughts were “good luck” when he glanced over his shoulder, saw Chase and Jackie at the edge of the island now, watching for them to make sure they made it a safe distance away. Then the two of them disappeared into the brush.

Good luck, he thought. You’re gonna need it.

#fanfic #jacksepticeye #subnautica crossover #the septics #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr. schneeplestein #jameson jackson #blitz indites #deep blue sea #dbs ch16 #swearing /

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anuschkalova · 6 years ago

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The Backup Plan (Chapter 1: The Approaching) Elliot x Reader

Summary: Elliot who suffers from weekly crying attacks finds comfort by chatting with a girl called Y/N that he met online. They have a real mutual understanding and grow close. Elliot enjoys the virtual connection, but is soon forced to step out of his comfort zone. Pairing: Elliot Alderson x Reader Word count: 2.795 Part 2 HERE

If Elliot had to name one thing that he hated the most, it would be his loneliness.

He hated it whenever the silence overfilled his apartment, making him aware of the missing. He hated the overwhelming sadness that attacked his body, forcing him to curl up into a weeping ball and let it all out. He hated his own fucking blubbering; it was pathetic. And he hated the fact that his morphine was out.

Elliot squeezed the empty plastic can in his hand and threw it against the wall. „Fuck!“, he spat and pulled at his hair in frustration, walking in circles. Tonight was far worse than usual - his whole mind was intoxicated by the mixture of every single negative thought he had collected over the years, and this damn mental cocktail was hard to swallow.

He needed something else to numb the pain, to turn his overheated system into sleep mode. What Elliot needed was a backup plan, a good one and preferentially in the next few seconds.

Flipper’s sudden barking made him slightly jump and Elliot stared at the little dog. She always did this during his crying sessions, probably because she sensed his anxiety. But the longer Elliot stared at the big round black eyes it seemed they fixed something behind him, so he turned and sighed. The computer.

„Of course…“ Elliot sat down and furiously tipped on the keyboard, bringing the monitor to life. Its harsh light illuminated his puffy face and the rest of the dimmed room.

One klick and the browser opened, Elliot typed swiftly and the white page turned into his surrender: the blue version of his morphine - the most popular social media platform. He created an account, logged in and began searching. Looking for someone to write to, getting off his mind for the moment, exchanging nonsense and feeling normal for once. He went to ‚public groups‘ and thought about a topic, something that his future dialog partner would share with him; a common interest was essential for a fluent conversation. Elliot knew that, but only theoretical. It was a group called Best movies of all time where he read Y/N’s comment about The Nightcrawler, discussing the two faces of society with three other members and without thinking twice his hands had already started a private conversation.

Elliot A., 12:43 What are your favorite movies?

He brought one hand to his mouth and bit at his knuckles impatiently. Shit, he was so desperate that he forgot a ‚Hey‘ or ‚How are you‘. She probably won’t answer him. One minute had passed and the loneliness was still there. Elliot moved the cursor to close the conversation, eager to find someone else, when a noise accompanied the new message he got.

Y/N, 12:45 I will tell you after a proper greeting.

Elliot A., 12:45 Hey.

He hesitated and typed more.

Elliot A., 12:45 Hey. I’m sorry.

God, why did he have to be that awkward? But nevertheless, he got an answer again.

Y/N, 12:46 Hey, don’t be. I was just messing with you ;-) I do like thriller movies like Shutter Island, Split and Hick. What about you?

Elliot felt his tensed shoulders relax as his eyes roamed over the letters.

Elliot A., 12:46 Sounds interesting. I like any kind of movie as long as it’s good.

Y/N, 12:46 Haha, and what is ‚good‘?

Elliot A., 12:46 Back to the future is pretty good.

Y/N, 12:47 Yeah, I’ve seen it. So you like the sci-fi genre or just the imagination of traveling through time?

Elliot A., 12:47 Don’t we all wish to do that somehow?

Y/N, 12:47 In order to escape reality, yes.

Elliot leaned closer to the monitor. He felt a weird sensation, as if somebody had put a cozy blanket over his back and rubbed the soft fabric on his skin while whispering I understand you. Did Y/N understand him?

Elliot A., 12:47 Do you wish to escape reality sometimes?

His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he awaited her answer. Elliot was so nervous that he didn’t register his burning eyes due to not blinking. His body however forced him to do so and after his eyes were set back to the monitor he had a new message.

Y/N, 12:48 Yes.

Her answer was short, but it revealed so much more. Elliot, intrigued by Y/N, clicked on her picture to visit her profile. It was set private, so he just stared at her smiling face. She looked so happy and open-minded, her messy bun had lost some strains of hair that framed her blushed cheeks. What story hid beneath those sparkling eyes? What made her wish to escape reality? Elliot’s fingers began to tingle, they always did before he hacked a person. He felt the urge to open her sealed book, reading the missing lines that would complete her story, the beginning and the ripped out pages - he wanted to know everything - every misery and every secret.

The familiar annoying noise of another message interrupted his thoughts.

Y/N, 12:49 I don’t want to seem weird or anything, considering we chatted for only 5 minutes, but I’m glad you texted me, Elliot.

Every word became more blurry as Elliot’s eyes teared up. He ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath. Her honesty unwrapped his true intention, so gently and careful not to rip the thin paper that covers his vulnerability.

Elliot A., 12:49 I am the weird one. I know it must sound pathetic, but I needed someone to talk to.

Y/N, 12:49 Then you’re not alone. I need someone to talk as well. Idk why, but it’s so much easier with a stranger than a friend.

There it was. He read the sentence over and over like a mantra. You’re not alone. You’re not alone. You’re not alone. And then, the loneliness was gone. Elliot, who went to therapy for over two years now, started to understand Krista’s words. His therapist always urged him to tell his thoughts instead of bottling it all up inside. Now, the relief was overwhelming as the lid was removed, the inner pressure left his body in pleasant small waves.

Elliot A., 12:49 I understand you.

Y/N, 12:50 :-) Btw, I guess you’re a man? You have a unisex name, my sister’s name is Elliot as well.

Elliot A., 12:50 You’re right. How do you know?

He had no profile picture and no information given to the site besides his name. Of course Elliot had used a fake e-mail account during the registration process. The internet was not trustworthy.

Y/N, 12:50 The way you write gives it away. Or maybe I just traveled through time and got a glimpse of you.

She tried to lighten up the mood and Elliot appreciated it. His lips twitched into a quick smile before he typed his answer.

Elliot A., 12:51 I take option two. So how do I look?

It took a while for Y/N to answer, so he went over to Flipper’s bowl to fill it with fresh water. The little dog wagged its tail happily while drinking. The roll chair creaked when Elliot sat back to read her text.

Y/N, 12:55 You have bright eyes, blue or green, I couldn’t tell in the short time and you have natural curly hair, brunette and not too short. You wear glasses and a knitted oversized sweater with cats on it.

Elliot A., 12:56 I almost believed you.

Y/N, 12:56 Was worth the try and hey, I don’t judge.

Elliot A., 12:56 I’m more a dog person.

Y/N, 12:56 Cool. What’s his/her name?

Elliot A., 12:56 Flipper.

And so Elliot told Y/N the story of how he got Flipper, of course leaving out the hacking part, and they continued writing about this and that. He learned that she was addicted to coffee and long hot baths; that she enjoyed going to the cinema and secretly danced at home to 80’s music. Y/N on the other hand found out that Elliot worked for a cybersecurity company and that he had a sister as well. When Y/N excused herself for a moment, Elliot checked the time. It was 2:28 am and for the first time during this day he was calm. The anxiety had crawled back into the back door of his mind and Elliot won’t open it for the rest of the night. He decided to end the chat and go to sleep, work awaited him in 4.5 hours.

Elliot A., 02:28 I’ll go to bed now. It was nice talking to you, Y/N.

Y/N, 02:29 Alright. Good night, Elliot. Keep the systems clean :-)

Elliot A., 02:29 I will.

Y/N, 02:29 See you soon.

___

That conversation took place on a Sunday night, and since then the two of them would chat every time Elliot suffered from his loneliness. He could go for a week, completely fine by himself, enduring the lack of human interactions in his life, just to break down within the safety of his apartment. But Elliot had his personal backup plan - Y/N. They wrote about nonsense and meaningful things, about deep emotions and opinions. She was the anchor when his anxiety washed over him like a giant wave, she would keep him on the surface and Elliot stopped panicking.

The routine was set like a clock: Crying and writing to Y/N. One week past. Crying and writing to Y/N. One week past. Crying again and writing to Y/N.

It worked. She became an important part in Elliot’s life and so it was only natural for him to hack her. He had lasted two days before he gave in and followed his nature. Private messages with friends and family, bank and e-mail accounts, online-shopping activities and social media profiles were not safe from Elliot’s endless thirst for knowledge. He was more than glad to find out that she told him the truth. Then, something caught his attention in her browser’s history, a specific search.

>>Cybersecurity company New York Elliot<<

Y/N had tried to find him. Elliot leaned back in his chair and kept his eyes locked to his name. It was understandable, her wish to put a face to the person she spend hours and hours writing to. Elliot got it, but he still felt uneasy about the imagination showing her his face. Their relationship would reach a new level of intimacy. He wouldn’t be a screen to her anymore, but a real human. A human she could meet in real life.

„Elliot?“ Krista’s soft voice addressed him, causing him to snap out of his thoughts. Today was Thursday and Elliot sat on the large couch of his therapist’s office. She titled her head a little. „You are quieter than usual. What are you thinking about?“ Elliot refused to meet her eyes and instead looked down at his fumbling hands. He hadn’t told Krista about Y/N until now.

„I’ve met someone…“ Elliot could see from the corner of his eyes how the woman’s head lifted up, eyebrows raised. He got her full attention. „That’s great, Elliot. Tell me about him, her.“ „Her name is Y/N… We are writing a lot“, he said slowly and his face softened. It was the first time he said her name out loud and he liked the way it left his lips. Krista noticed the change of Elliot’s mimic and smiled in satisfaction. Seeing her patient like that really warmed her heart.

„So you haven’t met Y/N so far?“ Elliot’s head twitched slightly and he turned towards the window. „Elliot?“ „I’m afraid of showing her my face. What if she’ll be disappointed?“, he spoke quietly and Krista watched him swallowing hard, fighting against the upcoming tears.

„What if I won’t match her expectations? We live in a world where looks and status rule. Swiping left because the nose is too big or the eyes are too narrowed, the first impression is always crucial for a relationship.“ Elliot began to shake as the anger built up, his eyes darting across the room before he finally locked gazes with his therapist. Krista raised her hand and motioned him to calm down. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands.

„You are talking about relationships. Do you feel something for Y/N and are afraid of her possible rejection?“ Elliot shrugged his shoulder and kept his eyes down. „But Elliot, she must be special if you write so much with her. Do you really believe that she’s superficial and will abandon you?“ Krista was right. Y/N wasn’t like the others, she was willing to write to a complete stranger who’s face she hadn’t seen. She had trusted him and what did Elliot do? Hacking and accusing her for being a hypocrite.

„No…“, he mumbled and Krista nodded. „I know I tell you this every time, but real human interactions are important for you, Elliot.“

___

Y/N, 10:13 Hey, how are you?

Elliot frowned at Y/N’s message. It had been three days since his last crying session and she was never the one who approached him first. Y/N always waited for him to start the conversation, because she probably knew not to push him.

Elliot A., 10:14 Hey, is everything okay?

She didn’t answer right away and it fed Elliot’s worry. He tipped his fingers against the wooden desk and his nervous tick made Flipper bark in response. „Sorry“, he said to the dog and finally he heard the noise of a new message.

Y/N, 10:17 I’m sorry it’s just… I feel so alone right now. My shithead of boyfriend broke up with me and I’m not sad about it, just really mad. I knew that he cheated on me and I planed on breaking up, it’s just that he accused me of destroying the relationship… He blamed me for everything and it’s just so frustrating.

Guilt laid heavily on Elliot’s shoulder as he recalled today’s therapy session. He also had blamed his anxiety on her and Elliot regretted it. He also regretted hacking her and therefore feeling the lack of surprise. He had read the chats of Y/N and her boyfriend, hacked his profiles and found out about his dirty secret named Samantha. Judging by the texts, he had cheated on Y/N for 1.5 years and Elliot was often tempted to blow his cover.

But he didn’t, because Y/N knew it. She wrote with her sister about his cheating and how she was going to break up with him. Or using her words ‚beating his ass up‘.

Elliot A., 10:18 Don’t be sorry. I would feel the same. He is more than a shithead if he gives up on such a smart and funny woman.

He hoped that his words eased her pain a little. God, he was so bad at this. How did Y/N just managed to safe him every time he was close to falling apart? He saw her typing, but then she paused a moment before she continued.

Y/N, 10:20 Thank you, Elliot.

She was holding back something, he felt it.

Elliot A., 10:20 You can tell me anything, Y/N. Don’t hide.

Elliot scoffed at his own text. Don’t hide. He should be the last person telling her to not hide. But his words actually reached her and Elliot’s heart stopped beating when he saw her plead.

Y/N, 10:22 I just wish you could hold me in your arms. I’m sorry if it’s weird, but I trust you so much and I know you probably want to keep it this way and maybe it’s just because of my emotions, but I want to know you more.

Elliot could visualize her crying face - eyes red and cheeks glistening from her salty tears. She must be so desperate if she asked him for the one thing she knew he avoided all the time. Elliot’s backup plan was a real human with real emotions and a beating heart. Y/N had saved him so many times, so wasn’t it his turn to return the favor? His hands ghosted over the keyboards, waiting for his brain’s order. He wet his dry lips as he tipped his message to her.

Elliot A., 10:24 We can meet tomorrow if that’s okay.

To be continued… Part 2 HERE

#mr robot #mr robot imagine #Elliot Alderson #elliot x reader #elliot x you #rami malek #rami malek x reader

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years ago

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Equinox: Summer [4]

"You’re suuuuper-tan, Sakura,” Temari pointed out. She lounged on the sofa, gesturing to Sakura with the soda in her hand.

“That’s what happens when you go out in the sun, Tem. You should try it some time,” quipped Sakura as she placed a bowl of chips on the coffee table. Temari grimaced at the thought.

“Careful. You’re gonna end up looking like one of those rotisserie chickens soon,” teased Hidan.

Sakura’s eyes popped open. A startled laugh spilled out of her. And out of everyone else too. They threw their heads back, collapsing in their seats. Cackling and slapping the arms of the sofa until their stomachs hurt. In the middle of it all, Sakura opened her eyes. Through the glass door, she glimpsed Tobirama walking down the hall, away from them. His hands in his pockets, some kind of folder tucked under his left arm.

Despite the fact that she was no longer working under this company, she still dropped in to see her friends. Tobirama hadn’t asked for her key card back and he hadn’t revoked her access to the building. They hadn’t really spoken since returning from their trip. Part of her was grateful that he was giving her the space she had asked for. But another part of her...

“I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back,” she announced, getting to her feet.

“Kay,” replied Temari. She hit the spacebar to replay the track she was currently working on.

“Aye. This is sick, Tem,” Hidan commented as she walked out of the room. Kakuzu began bobbing his head beside him.

As the glass doors swung shut behind her, Tobirama turned. The sounds of music and people’s voices must have drawn his attention. And as if on reflex, he smiled at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied, walking down the hall to catch up to him.

“I’m just heading to my office,” he told her, waving with his folder. He lowered it when she didn’t say anything in response.

The only reason she didn’t speak was because she couldn’t stop staring at him. He had done something with his hair. His bangs didn’t part in the middle of his face. It was off more to one side. And his hair curled cutely against his forehead, almost like a comma. She always forgot how broad his shoulders were and how good they looked- even under a regular t-shirt.

With all these thoughts running through her head, Sakura bit her lower lip. Felt her hands close on the front of his shirt. Soft, black cotton against her fingertips. She saw him drop his folder. Papers scattering across the floor.

She kissed him. And he kissed her back just as eagerly. In the sort of way that made her knees go weak. Breaths coming in short, hot huffs as they tilted their heads for the perfect angle. Him dipping his head to make up for his height. Then, Tobirama did one of her favorite things in the world. Lips following hers when she tried to pull away, fingers curling around her jaw and chin to try to coax her back.

A distant clatter from down the hall finally pulled them apart. Their heads jerked toward the sound. But it was just the noise of one of the doors to the stairs opening on one of the upper floors. Whoever it was, headed down the stairs without pausing on this level.

“Whoa,” Sakura breathed.

They both looked down and found his hand under her shirt, palm pressed to her spine. Both of her hands were under his shirt too. They took a step apart. Hands returning to the right bodies, straightening clothes and fixing hair. Sakura was glad that she wasn’t wearing lipstick. That would be harder to clean up.

“Sorry,” Tobirama mumbled, back of his hand pressing to his mouth. Color crept into his cheeks as he looked anywhere but at her. Which didn’t offend Sakura because she was having trouble looking at him too.

Her face burned as she wondered what had come over her. The lapis lazuli hung from her neck. And she knew that nothing he had said had made her brain go foggy. She would have felt it. But her body have moved on its own, before she even had a chance to think the impulse through.

“Tell Tem and the others I’m sorry. I’ll.... I’ll call you,” she said before she hurried past him, down the hall, toward the elevators.

“You will?” she heard Tobirama ask after her. Voice bewildered. Filled with hope.

The new arrival in Old Pines received a warm welcome. Above all, Old Pines considered itself a haven for the supernatural. Everyone was welcome. And, according to the mayor, he was the first merman they'd seen in a while.

"How long?" Tenten asked.

"Before my time. You'd have to ask the Sheriff about that," replied Tsunade.

He came into town every few days to buy groceries or supplies. Smelling of seawater, damp hair pushed up into spikes. And if he ran into Sakura at the grocery store, he certainly wasn’t above following her through the aisles. Commenting on the brand of pasta she got and irritating her until, laughing, she turned around to slap him on the arm.

At first, Sakura had a hard time reconciling him with the man she'd seen in Ibiza. She looked up the distance between her home and the island. It was over 3000 miles. While she wasn't sure how far a merman could swim in a day, she was fairly certain that it wasn't enough.

Kisame roared with laughter when she asked him.

Running both his hands through his wet hair, he stood on the stern of his boat. Sakura's eyes drifted down. She couldn't help but appreciate his body. Blue skin or not, he something to behold. It was a physique that had been born from necessity. Powerful back and shoulder muscles. Strong legs to propel him through the water.

“There’s something called an airplane, you know,” he told her, looking over his shoulder at her. But when she frowned, Kisame flashed a smile at her.

"Although I'm flattered that you overestimate my abilities so much. I am pretty hot," he added. And then gave her a wink. He had obviously caught her enjoying the view.

Mashing her lips together, Sakura looked out at the water instead.

It was true that Sakura’s golden tan was partly from Ibiza. At least, it had developed there. But what stopped it from fading was the amount of time she had started to spend down at the beach.

"So.... are you just... a beach bum?" she asked one day. Because every time she wandered down here, there he was. Feet up as he scribbled in a journal or listening to bad, compressed music on his shitty speakers. A few times, she found an empty boat. She had waited around for a bit until she got bored enough to dip her feet in the water. Not long after, his dorsal fin sliced through the surface of the water as he swam up to the surface. Webbed fingers tickling against the bottom of her foot.

Kisame smirked, gliding past her in an easy backstroke.

“Says the person also at the beach every day,” he retorted.

"I'm serious," Sakura insisted. Eyebrows rising, Kisame stopped swimming. His silvery tail moved him closer to her with a few lazy movements. He pointed toward his boat.

"You have a boat. Great," she remarked in a flat voice. He chuckled. His webbed hand was cool as he rested it on her calf. And it wasn't slimy like she had expected.

"No, go look inside," he told her. Sakura eyed him, but he looked completely serious. Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet, wet footprints painting the pier as she walked. And Kisame lowered most of his face into the water as he followed after her.

The inside of Kisame's boat was sparse. Just the bare necessities. A cup of coffee still sat on the narrow table bolted into the wall. There was a frying pan in the sink, along with what looked like last night's dishes.

"What am I looking for?" Sakura yelled. There was no response. She stood in the middle of the cabin, looking over his unmade bed and the bag of laundry overflowing next to it.

Something caught her eye.

At the front of the boat was some kind of console with a big steering wheel. She didn't touch any of the buttons or levers. But on the wall right beside the wheel were some black frames along with some photos stuck up with tape.

The first was a picture of Kisame standing on a boat. He held up a fish, showing off a missing tooth as he smiled. That was very cute. But not very informative. The second was one of him in the water. Flippers sticking out as he held onto a life preserver ring. His stripes were much darker here- almost black.

Sakura's eyes popped open as she moved on to the frames.

"You have a Ph.D?" she exclaimed.

There was a splash. And then Kisame laughed.

The next frame was a page torn from a magazine. At the top was a photo of Kisame crouching next to a battered chest. He gave a cheesy thumbs up. When she squinted she could make out something about him recovering-

"1 million dollars in sunken treasure?" she shouted. This time, she ran out of the boat.

Kisame rested his elbows on the pier, his sleek lower body stretched out behind him. He smiled.

“You’re a treasure hunter?” Sakura demanded.

“I prefer.... anthropologist with dope-ass diving skills,” corrected Kisame.

Sakura frowned as she considered that. Lower lip sticking out. Kisame watched her expression. Carefully.

“Where’d you find treasure like that?” she questioned.

Kisame wagged his finger at her. “I’ll only tell you if you stay for dinner.”

What started as hour-long visits began to stretch out longer and longer.

Sakura found that spending a few hours in the sun still helped keep her mind fresh when it was time to work. But she was also inspired by Kisame's stories of diving into deep caves. Sifting through old bones and wreckages to recover shining treasure. Venturing into the darkness with just a headlamp to pull old swords and cups from the sand.

"How long can you stay out of the water for?" she asked. Because she was curious. She had never had a chance to ask these sorts of things before. And maybe it was the anthropologist side of Kisame coming through. But he never seemed annoyed by her questions.

"If I drink lots of water, a couple days? I get headaches and I feel sick if I start drying out," replied Kisame. A glint appeared in his eyes as he considered her.

"Actually, I wanna show you something. Didn't you say you would come swimming with me someday?" he reminded her.

Head disappearing beneath the waves, he swam past her. The surface of his tail felt surprisingly rough. Almost like sandpaper.

She had learned that there were different species of merpeople. There were some who stuck together in schools. But sharks, like him, were solitary monsters. He had been all around the world- as long as the waters were warm enough for him.

Kisame circled around her one more time, his hands skimming against her calves. “Can’t swim?” he guessed.

She started when he slapped a hand down on either side of her thighs. He hoisted himself out of the water, grinning at her. Water dripped onto her legs as she stared down at him.

“I can,” she insisted. And then she eyed him. Especially his pointed teeth. “I’ve heard all the stories. I’m not stupid enough to let a merman pull me into open water,” she scoffed.

Kisame laughed. “Those stories are super-exaggerated. We don’t eat people unless we have to.”

And his eyes glittered as he added, “Besides, you’re not human.”

And Sakura was reminded that he wasn't either a few days later.

She kicked a little wave of water in his direction. The droplets sprayed his face. And he dropped the crab he'd been examining. The sharp little claws waved helplessly in the air until it hit the water. Where it sank down. Deeper and deeper until it fell out of sight.

"How'd you even find me?" she asked.

Kisame swam a few strokes toward her. Stopped to tap his nose.

"I smelled you. In the water," he replied. As if it was normal to be able to smell other people. And then he added, "You don't smell bad", as if to assure her.

Scowling, Sakura aimed another kick of water at him.

If she came early enough in the morning, Kisame would let her get onto the boat with him. The engine thrumming under her feet as he steered her away from the pier, out into the bay. And then she sat at the stern, staring after him when he dove in. His rippling tail and sharp fins disappearing into the darkness as he went deeper and deeper. Sometimes he snuck back up to nip at her toes, just to laugh at her angry expression.

Most of the things he found were junk. Old bottles. Bits of glass rubbed smooth by the sand and waves. Occasionally, he found the odd watch that had been lost in the water. The hands frozen how they'd been pointing when the batteries finally died.

On one of the excursions, Sakura looked up when she heard a splash. His fin stuck out of the water as he swam up to her. Even that had stopped startling her as much. But that didn't seem to be his goal this time. He dropped black lumps onto the boat. They were hard- clattering and bouncing against each other.

"What are-" Before Sakura could finish her question, he dove back down. Sakura pinched one between her fingers to examine it. It looked like an oyster.

The second time he surfaced, Kisame dropped off more of his loot. And then he leaned his elbow on the boat, panting a little.

"I didn't know we even had oysters out here," Sakura commented. And then she let him catch his breath. The folds of his gills flattened shut on the sides of his neck.

"Yeah. Me neither," replied Kisame.

Sakura averted her eyes as Kisame hauled himself onto the boat. When she heard the wet slap of his feet against the floor, she covered her eyes with her hands. She had made the mistake of looking once and had received... an eyeful.

"You know, it doesn't bother me," he laughed at her. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, Sakura blindly slapped at him with her hand.

"It bothers me! Cover your junk!" Sakura insisted. She heard him laughing harder as he headed inside the cabin to slip on a pair of swim trunks.

As July faded into August, Sakura found her tan darkening and her collection of misshapen pearls growing. Sometimes she brought her laptop with her and worked on Kisame's boat. She released a few summer-themed tracks that made Madara shower her with praise.

"Hey there, beach babe," Ino greeted her when she walked into the cafe.

Sakura had always dressed light in the summer. Shorts and a crop top. Maybe a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Not like she was trying to hide her tan. Her hair had also lightened a little from all the time in the sun.

Ino whistled. "You look like you're having fun. I hear you've been buddy-buddy with Jaws," she then commented, sly smile on her face. Sakura rolled her eyes at her.

"What? Are you jealous?" retorted Sakura.

"Of him, yeah. When do I get to catch up with you and Tenten? Maybe we can get someone to babysit the kids and Hana can come too. You think Kiba’s free?" Ino suggested.

Later that afternoon, Sakura ran into Kiba. Not on purpose, though. Kakashi had an important meeting with a police commissioner. Or was it a commander? Either way, he would be busy at dinner and had asked her to feed and walk his dogs during his short absence.

"I can't ask anyone else because they're..." Kakashi trailed off.

"Little monsters. I know," Sakura finished the thought for him. And then, rubbing Bull under the ears, Sakura kissed the big dog on the forehead. "It's okay. I still love you, Bully-wully," she added.

So as she exited Kakashi's house, she turned to wave. All the dogs stood at the windowsill to watch her leave. Pakkun yapped, probably asking for her to return. Biscuit gave her the saddest, most betrayed look in the world. But she knew that Kakashi would be home soon, so she tried not to feel guilty.

“Hey there. The Sheriff home?"

Sakura turned, already beaming at Kiba. His tool belt was still slung around his hips. There was some kind of powder smudged on his arm.

"Nah. I'm just making sure the dogs got dinner," Sakura told him as she brushed his arm off.

"Oh, thanks. But also, crap. Guess I'll ask him tomorrow," muttered Kiba.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, taking a few steps toward him.

Kiba nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Just one of my buddies is arguing with his neighbor about a fence. Thought I'd have him come mediate before it gets ugly." He glanced down at his watch and huffed.

"Shit," he muttered.

“If you’re busy, you should head back. Maybe you can text Kakashi and have him meet you later,” Sakura urged him. She wasn't even surprised when Kiba hugged her. Nuzzling against her top of her head, her cheek. Scratching her with his facial hair despite her complaints. And then he was sniffing at her neck. The breath from his nostrils tickling against her skin.

"Kiba, quit it," Sakura scolded when she felt him nudging more and more insistently. Breaths touching her ear, tickling at the nape of her neck.

"You smell really good," he murmured. Voice thrumming out of him way deeper than she expected.

Sakura tapped his cheek a few times. Kiba lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were a little hazy, like they'd been when they'd first met. But when he blinked a few times, they cleared. He smiled like he always did.

"Sorry. Wolf-brain, I guess," he apologized.

"....Yeah... I guess," she replied.

After nagging, and promising that she would be completely safe, Kisame persuaded Sakura to visit his secret location. He didn't reveal much about specifics.

"It's not like I can't swim. I just can't swim like you," Sakura reminded him on the big day. He had taken his boat out into the water and dropped anchor. He dove in first, feet growing and morphing into big fins. Webbing between his fingers growing and fusing together.

Kisame's eyes trailed over her bikini in a way that she didn't exactly hate. But when he met her gaze again, she knew that he had been listening. Because he held both his hands out to her.

"I got you," he promised.

He warned her to take a deep breath before he pulled her under the surface. At first, she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Her arms wrapped around his middle as he dragged them deeper and deeper. And even though his body always felt cool to her, he was warm in comparison to the water all around them. Sakura opened her eyes when she felt a tap on her arm.

It was darker than she had expected. When she looked up, she could see the surface. Light blue and wavering. Sunlight cutting through the waves at an angle. When she looked back to Kisame, she saw him pointing ahead. At something she couldn’t quite make out in the darkness.

This time, Sakura kept her eyes open as Kisame continued swimming. She realized that he didn't even need to use his arms to swim. He kept both of them wrapped around her as his tail propelled them in powerful movements. And the speed at which he moved reminded her of why shark movies had always terrified her as a kid.

She hadn't realized that there was so much life in the seemingly still waters. There were tangled plants growing from the sand. Discarded tires and crates served as homes for the little fish that darted all around. Every once in a while, Sakura glimpsed a bigger fish that flashed by. Silver scales gleaming as they dodged Kisame.

It took her a little while to realize that the big walls of rock ahead were likely what lay under the beach. She could imagine them sloping up and up to form the cliffs. And on top of those cliffs would be the town. She hadn't realize how high up her home really sat. Not until she could see this.

After another minute, it was her turn to tap Kisame on the arm. Cheeks puffing out, she pointed at herself. Then at his gills. Kisame's eyes widened as she repeated the gestures. She tilted her head to look up at the surface. She hadn't realized that this would require holding her breath for so long. Her chest was beginning to feel really tight and uncomfortable.

Sakura felt Kisame grasp her chin. His mouth covered hers. But before she could get angry, she felt him take her hand and bring it to his gills. She almost flinched away when she felt them suck in the water. And then she felt Kisame exhale against her mouth, the bubbles spilling past her lips, up to the surface in a rush.

She parted her lips. When Kisame exhaled, oxygen rushed into her mouth, down into her lungs. As he removed his mouth, Sakura scowled. She hit him on the arm. He mouthed 'sorry' before he continued on.

Soon, they reached an opening in the wall of stone. It was large- big enough for several people to swim in at once. As they entered the gap, it was even darker than the water around them. Sakura grimaced, hoping that she wouldn't knock into anything. But Kisame guided them well. Until, without warning, Sakura's head broke the surface of the water. She gulped down the sudden air, wiping the water out of her eyes.

She spat the saltwater out of her mouth, blinking hard.

"Sorry. I forgot that people can't hold their breath for shit. Man, you guys are worse than walruses," Kisame said right away.

"You ass!" Sakura coughed, hitting him again. She connected with what felt like his shoulder.

Still, she didn't struggle as she felt his arms around her waist. He lifted her out of the water and onto a solid surface. Wet rock, a little rough, but more comfortable than treading nonstop.

"I thought you wanted to show me something. Is what you were trying to show me darkness?" Sakura asked. Pushing her hair out of her face.

"Look more to your right," replied Kisame.

She followed the sound of his voice. And to her surprise, there was a blue glow. Like a pattern of constellations on the cave wall. Followed by a faint pattern of lines, almost like...

The light moved.

"Oh my god. You glow in the dark," Sakura realized. She held her hands out. He lowered his arm into her grasp. She traced her pointer finger along the patterns in his skin.

Kisame cleared his throat. "Anyway, this is real nice, but the main attraction is actually up there," he told her.

Sakura couldn't see where he was pointing, but she still looked up. And then she saw his arm begin to glow a bit brighter. Just enough to illuminate the stalactites. Like jagged, yellowish icicles dripping from above. Kisame waved his arm to show her that the whole ceiling was covered with them.

"Wow," Sakura breathed. Her hand still resting on his arm. For balance, she told herself.

"Found this place not long after I came here. Isn't it cool?" he said in her ear.

"Yeah."

"I think... probably not recently, but you might've had a pod of mers down here. Maybe nurse sharks," he added. Her head whipped around to look at him. Well, at his glowing silhouette.

"How do you know?"

"Our pups are born without gills. They need to breathe air. So you'll usually find merpeople nesting in underwater caves like this," explained Kisame.

"Which is why I did that before. Our gills grow in after a couple months. When we're learning to use them, our moms show us how they work. Like that," he added.

Sakura found herself much less annoyed. She looked back down at his arm still sitting in her lap. She could feel his other hand just beside her leg, resting on the wet stone.

She followed the pattern of blue dots. Up his bicep. His shoulder. The luminous path of speckles and lines that went up the sides of his neck. The little points of light were even on his face, she realized. Along his cheek bones and even on his forehead, almost like freckles.

"But.... I'll admit, I'm not mad that I had an excuse to kiss you," Kisame told her.

Kisame pulled his arm from her grasp. She could hear a splash as he moved. Now his elbows were on either side of her. And the sounds of his breaths came a little closer. The faint, almost-heat of his body. Moving closer and closer. Until she felt the craggy wall of the cave against her back. Damp and cool. She hadn't even realized that she had been leaning back.

His mouth found hers in the darkness so easily. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she realized that he must be able to see in the dark. Not like any of that mattered as he grasped her chin. His other hand sliding down to rest on the small of her back. The sharpness of his teeth almost-hurting her lips- but not-quite.

Water sloshed against her thighs as she shifted. His chest pressing to hers. The roughness of his tail brushing against her leg. And his hand left her face, trailing down her neck, her shoulder, wrapping around her hip.

It felt so good that when he drew back, she grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him toward her again. Tongue sliding against his, fingers sliding into his wet hair. Pulling him closer until her eyes flew open.

Sakura pushed him away.

She was soaked and cold. And all she could think of was Tobirama bathed in the balmy island heat. Smiling like a kid as he asked her to marry him. More pangs of pain and guilt as she thought of moonlit walks with Kakashi and his dogs. Making faces at Itachi as they split desserts served in mason jars. Of Kiba showing up with takeout and the smile that asked for nothing more.

The guilt had always sat there. Somewhere in the back of her head. But cuddling and holding hands felt like a line she could tread without going too far. In the end, if it went no further than that, no one could really blame her. Or point their fingers at her and say she was just like her mother. Fickle. Playing with people's hearts without a care in the world.

This was different.

Sakura shivered, rubbing her hands against the sides of her neck.

“I want to leave,” she declared, trying to keep her voice steady.

And then Kisame's voice, echoing a little in the cave, said, “...Okay.” He moved away from her. There was a big splash. Water rushed over her thighs.

When she looked up, she saw the shape of Kisame's hand, dappled with light. And she thought she might have seen his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“I’ll take you back. Promise,” he told her. When she slipped her hand into his, it still felt a little warm. He squeezed her fingers, waiting for her to take a big breath before he pulled her underwater.

This time, Kisame took her straight up to the surface. And then he began pulling her in the direction of his white boat. It bobbed on the waves. She could see the sky beginning to turn purple near the horizon. The sun would be setting soon.

When they were close enough, Kisame released her. Sakura swam a few strokes until she reached the boat. While she grasped the metal rungs and climbed aboard, Kisame hung back. Lower half of his face submerged under the waves. She turned her back to him, pretending to be busy wringing out her hair as he climbed aboard too. He returned a little while later to drape a towel over her.

"Let's get you home," he said.

He started up the motor. Sakura stayed on the back of the boat as it headed in the direction of the shore. She found her phone and bag sitting where she had left them. A couple of texts were waiting for her. She answered them with the usual array of cute emojis. Trying to ignore how her stomach was twisting and tying itself into knots.

When they returned back to the lonely pier, Kisame did his usual thing. Dropping an anchor into the water. Going through the steps that Sakura knew to expect, but couldn't put a name to. He disappeared back inside, towel still draped around his neck.

By the time Kisame came back out to the back of the boat, the sun had begun sinking. Sky bleeding red and orange. Pretty.

Kisame sighed as he sat down beside her. Not close enough that she felt uncomfortable. Neither of them said anything as the sky grew darker and darker. The waves began to change, too. Colors fading until they were almost black. The place where the sky met the ocean was dark blue, the lines smudging together.

“Did I scare you?" was the first thing Kisame managed to ask.

"Mm... not really you," Sakura said.

And she was glad she could see his face now. Because when he glanced at her, he was smiling like he usually did.

"Full disclosure, I guess," Sakura sighed, looking down at her hands. He didn't say anything.

"I've... kind of got someone. I don't know what he is to me. And... actually, he's not even the only..." she trailed off. "This is way too complicated," she added in a small voice.

She rubbed her hands over her face before she suddenly looked at him. "I mean, you're hot. So, normally I'd have no problem doing... y'know..." Sakura fumbled for words again.

"Thanks for thinking I'm hot, I guess."

Sakura laughed a little. And that made Kisame relax a little. He knocked his fist against his knee a couple times as he stared ahead. Like he was thinking.

“Y'know... I actually did bring you out there just to show you the cave. I'm realizing now that it probably felt... ulterior-motive...y,” Kisame thought out loud.

"It wasn't ulterior-motivey. It was nice until..." she trailed off. The only sound was Kisame scratching his cheek.

"This is like high school all over again," he muttered. They let out a few weak chuckles. "But, then again, that was a while ago. I shouldn't use that as an excuse," Kisame amended. He looked over at her. She could feel him study her face.

“Am I older than you? You’re, like, what, 22.... 23?”

“"Almost thirty,” she corrected him.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Now I don't feel like an old man. And also damn. Thank your mom for those good genes,” he remarked.

Sakura laughed without smiling.

Kisame rubbed the back of his neck. He sighed.

“Sorry. Kind of ruined your night, huh?” she apologized.

Kisame’s hand fell into his lap. And when he looked over at her, he was smiling. “Nah.” He crossed his ankle over his knee.

It felt like they'd run out of things to say for now. Sakura got to her feet. Retrieving her bag, she pulled her clothes over her still-wet bikini. It was a little uncomfortable, but preferable to running home in next-to-nothing. She stuck her feet into her sandals before she stepped onto the pier.

“Hey.”

Sakura turned around. She saw Kisame standing on the back of his boat now. He motioned for her to come closer. She took a couple of steps toward him. He tucked her hair behind her ear. It must have been sticking out. She smoothed over it with her own fingers, copying his movement.

“I’m glad you told me. Don’t be sorry,” he told her.

And he stood there on the back of his houseboat. Leaning against the railing as he watched her walk up the beach. Up to the wooden walkway that would take her back to town. And when she glanced back, he waved at her.

Sakura spent the next day really thinking. She pretended that she was working. She had a conference call with Madara and a few people. She sent some emails and listened to a few demos sent her way. But all the while, she knew that there was something- or rather, someone- that she had to stop avoiding.

That afternoon, she decided to text Tobirama.

Tobirama’s car purred like a small plane engine when he pulled into her driveway that evening. Right next to her little sedan. It amazed her how he just showed up. No complaints about the traffic. No excuses about how he was busy. It somehow made her guilt a million times worse as she watched him climb out of his car and walk up the gravel path.

He carried an enormous bouquet. Beautiful flowers in bright pink and creamy white. They smelled so sweet. She couldn't help but bury her nose in them, giggling when the pollen touched the tip of her nose.

“Oh. These are... wow. These are so pretty,” she breathed, rubbing the pollen off on the back of her hand. And without thinking, she rose on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck. And she saw the way that he automatically leaned down toward her. They both froze as their lips touched.

Tobirama drew back, left hand clenching at his side. “Sorry. I forgot. Shit,” he immediately said.

Sakura pressed her fingers to her lips, shaking her head. “I forgot, too. It’s not your fault,” she assured him.

He stood on her porch, one hand in his pocket. Looking anywhere but at her. And she hesitated to invite him inside. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she thought.

It wasn’t fair to him, she decided. She reached out to touch the back of his hand. He finally looked at her.

“Come inside, Tobirama. I need to tell you some things,” she told him.

#equinox #equinox: summer #multisaku #tobisaku #kisasaku #kibasaku #kakasaku

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angeleyesmalek · 6 years ago

Text

te4.pdf

A n3w-ne1ghb0r.zip story

Pairing: Elliot Alderson x Reader

Summary: Can be read individually or as part of the series. The apartment next to Elliot’s has been empty since Shayla. Someone finally moves in, and it’s worse than Elliot could have ever imagined.

Warnings: implied sexual fantasies, language

Word Count: 1,779

“I met my new neighbor,” Elliot announced, “She’s nice.”

He gazed at the bookcase to his left, skimming his gaze across the spines of all the leather-clad pages. Krysta sat opposite of him in her usual chair while she attempted to decode his expression.

“She?” she inquired.

Elliot nodded in response. “Yeah. Her name’s Y/N.”

“What made her so nice?” Krysta wondered.

Elliot subconsciously fiddled with his fingers in his lap. What was he supposed to say? That he liked the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed? That he hoped it was you whenever there was a knock at the door? That he walked Flipper at the time you usually get home in hopes that he’ll pass by you in the hallway to give you a simple nod? That he keeps as quiet as possible in his apartment, so he can hear your soft humming and singing when he’s feeling lonely?

He shrugged, meeting Krysta’s eyes for a second before his sight continued his path to the closed door to the right of him. “When I met her, she invited me over for tea.”

“How did you meet her, Elliot? I don’t think you mentioned it,” Krysta tilted her head ever so slightly in curiosity.

Elliot remembered it easily. It was 6 days ago, almost a week.

He’d been walking Flipper, and he had just entered the building. While climbing the stairs, he heard someone cursing under their breath, but dismissed it until he arrived on the fourth level. At the end of the hallway, at the door right beside his, stood a lovely figure with arms full of groceries. - “Shit!”

“Do you need some help?” Elliot didn’t know why his voice spoke, but it almost came out without his permission.

You turned around to face him while he brushed the hood of his jacket off his head, absentmindedly trying to fix his hair after the gesture. “It’s fine,” you shyly replied, “but thank you.”

Elliot nodded curtly before he continued walking towards your figure until he stood beside you to unlock his door while Flipper stiffed your legs. By the time he’d opened it, he noticed you were still struggling, so he timidly took the keys out of your hands, careful not to brush your fingers, before he unlocked the door for you and placed the keys in one of the paper bags.

“Thank you,” you murmured. He was about to disappear into his apartment with Flipper when you remembered, “You’re Elliot, right?” Big, green eyes turned to meet yours again, so you explained, “I’m Y/N. The landlord told me I’d be living next to you. I, um… Do you want to come in? I made something for you.”

Elliot didn’t respond for a second, but then he realized you were still holding your groceries. “No thanks.”

“Okay,” you understood, “Can I drop them by after I set these down?”

Elliot nodded in affirmation before you sent him a small smile and disappeared into your new apartment. He took that as a sign to also go inside, and he let Flipper off her leash. Just as he stood from kneeling beside the dog, she let out a soft bark. A knocking at the door signaled that you’d returned, and Elliot quickly opened the door, only to have Flipper quickly run up to sniff more at your feet. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth at the little black mop of fur, and had it not been for the large plate in your arms, you would’ve ruffled the little booger’s fluff.

“Sorry,” Elliot mumbled while picking Flipper up in his arms to keep her from bothering you. However, you shook your head at it.

“Don’t be sorry. I love dogs, and this one seems sweet.” You managed to shift the platter to one of your hands, so you could reach out to scratch behind those little black ears. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Flipper,” Elliot answered for her, “Her name’s Flipper.”

Flipper wagged her tail at your affection before she started squirming in Elliot’s arms in an escape attempt while she tried her hardest to lick your hand. “She’s a sweetheart… Oh! I forgot!” you withdrew your hand from Flipper to better balance the load in your arms, and you held out the wrapped dish. “These are for you. They’re cookies. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made sugar and chocolate chip. I was going to make peanut butter, snickerdoodles, and oatmeal raisin too, but I wasn’t sure if you were allergic to peanuts or cinnamon, so I stuck with the basics.”

“Thanks,” Elliot almost smiled at your nervousness. He looked from the cookies to Flipper, who still squirmed in his arms. “Could you maybe set them inside?”

You nodded before he stepped aside and silently invited you in. After you stepped inside, Elliot kicked the door closed, and you assured him, “You can set her down if you want. I really don’t mind.

He nodded at you before you strolled over to the nearby kitchen counter, where you placed the cookies. The sound of jingling mixed with the patter of little paws warned you just before you felt soft sniffing and licking at your legs again.

You turned your attention to Flipper before you crouched down next to her to pet her. “Hi, Flipper. I’m Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you. You’re awfully silly, aren’t you? You are just a little ham! What a good girl.” you giggled as Flipper tried to hop onto your thighs, so she could lick your face, but you kept her at bay, satisfying her with more scratches to her ears and back. Eventually, she calmed down some and rolled onto her back, begging for belly scratches, which you were happy to give her.

Elliot watched the interaction between you and Flipper for a bit before he realized he was smiling slightly at the sight. When he caught himself, he felt his cheeks heat up a bit. You were beautiful, but you seemed sweet too. So sweet, in fact, that Elliot felt an itch in that part of his mind, the one that doesn’t allow good to exist without condition.

He knew things like this didn’t happen. Pretty neighbors don’t move in and befriend him. Even if they did, he wouldn’t even have a chance with her. She probably wouldn’t even give him the time of day romantically.

“I should probably go,” you stated while standing up from playing with Flipper, “I’m sorry if I’m intruding at all. It was lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You aren’t intruding.” His voice is soft while he barely shook his head. You almost didn’t hear it.

You smile at him appreciatively before you reason, “Thank you. I do still have to put my groceries away, though. Thank you for inviting me in. Your apartment is nice. I don’t think most people would like it, but I do… And, if you ever need someone to watch Flipper or walk her or anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.” You turned to leave with Flipper following you to the door, but before you had the chance to turn the knob, Elliot’s voice stopped you. “I’m not allergic to peanuts.” You turned to face him again to find his fists shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie. “or cinnamon… I’m not allergic to anything, actually.”

“I’ll have to bake for you some more then,” you concluded, leaving a thoughtful pause as punctuation. “Elliot?” He looked up to meet your eyes, and his breath almost caught in his throat. “Did you maybe want to stop by for tea sometime?”

Elliot couldn’t possibly form words at your request, so he simply nodded.

“Alright. Come by when you get a chance. You can bring Flipper too.”

And just like that, you left. - “I ran into her when I was walking Flipper. She was just coming back from the grocery store,” Elliot stated.

Krysta smiled at him ever so slightly. “Do you think you’ll go to tea?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?” She deflated ever so slightly, but Elliot didn’t notice much. His brain was preoccupied with other things.

Elliot tried to appear nonchalant when he supposed, “I don’t know.”

Krysta noticed, though. She watched him think for a minute, simultaneously trying to assess the situation. “Is she pretty?”

Images flashed through Elliot’s head, some of them memories, some of them only imagined by his mind. Sunlight soaking your hair, igniting the strands from within while you listened intently to him when walking Flipper together. A smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes across your bare face as you greeted him in the hallway after a long day at work. Your hair sticking to your damp forehead and your mouth parted with a silent scream of pleasure; nails digging into his chest enough to steady yourself while your hips moved against his. The fluttering fabric of your skirt barely brushing against your legs while you spun. Flipper licking your face from your position, back on the floor with squished up features. Gloomy light from a cloudy day caressing every exposed inch of your skin through a window, your form covered only by your messy hair and a sheet to which you clung. Ice cream smeared on your nose, eyes crossed, and tongue out as you attempted to eat every last drop of your dessert. Nothing but a flour spotted apron adorning your body while you baked in the kitchen, light bruises littering your neck. Your beaming face poking out of a pile of fuzzy blankets. The hilarious look of panic across your features while you catch the phone you nearly dropped half a second prior. Handcuffs around your wrists, making sure they stay attached to the bedpost while he had his way with you.

“I guess so… I never really thought about it.”

“But haven’t you thought about her? After all, would you have mentioned her if you hadn’t?”

Elliot was silent. He knew she had him in a corner, and she knew it.

If he said he didn’t think so, she would continue to press him about the matter. That could lead to her discovering more than he wanted her to know. So, he only told her part of the truth.

He nodded. “You’re right. I think I could like her.”

“Maybe you should ask her out,” Krysta suggested.

“Maybe,” Elliot agreed, “Maybe I’ll ask her when I go over for tea.”

Elliot knew he wouldn’t, but it was still a nice thought. Another image to add to the collection in his mind that he would never experience. Guys like him didn’t get girls like you.

Tagging: ask to be tagged here

#n3w-ne1ghb0r.zip #cherry fails at writing #elliot alderson x reader #elliot alderson imagine #mr. robot imagine

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vietnamtonki · 2 years ago

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Play microsoft pinball arcade on tablet

Play microsoft pinball arcade on tablet full#

When the trap lift, there can be multiple balls in play.Hit all the pieces surrounding the trap to release the ball and score extra points.Pass the ball through all three top paths and lock the ball in a trap at the top of the table. Use the plunger to launch the ball into play and try to keep the ball from disappearing off the playfield. The game follows the rules of traditional pinball.Use your finger to pull back the plunger.On touchscreen devices you use your finger like a mouse.Point bonuses can be higher during multiball play. If you hit subsequent balls they are worth more. Smashing the ball with a hammer is worth 1,000 points and you get to reshoot the ball again.The arrow moves both flippers and the other item on that side of the table.Control the flippers and, by extension, the hammer and the clever with the left and right arrow keys.

Play microsoft pinball arcade on tablet full#

You can also use the down key to pull the plunger back & release it to push the ball in play, but if you do not play the game in full screen mode this may cause the page to scroll downward.

If you use the left key on your mouse it will provide fairly granular control which allows you to make a soft and precise shot, though it will also move the right flippers.

When you are inside the active table there is also a pause button which appears below the screen size and sound control buttons.

This game is best played in full screen mode.

The game welcome screen has buttons in the upper left corner to enter full screen mode and control sounds.

Trap a ball and release to unleash the multiball game mode. Shoot the ball and use the flappers to keep it in play.

#Play microsoft pinball arcade on tablet

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omgkatsudonplease · 7 years ago

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The BtDS coffeeshop au, sing, goddess, where yuuri and yuuko do run a beachside seal cafe with views of the rookery, cafe of which viktor becomes a frequent patron! ♥

so robbie and nica and i were joking about cafes dedicated to the things we like and a concept for a seal cafe came up and…

The Katsudon Cafe is lit in shades of nautical blue, with wide bay windows stretching out towards the sea. Its deck has access to a small beach via a handsome silver-wood staircase, crusted with sand and aged with salt spray.

This beach is currently closed off for pupping season, so Viktor can only watch from a distance as the tide rolls in just short of the flippers of several large harbour seals and their pups, all of them sunning themselves in the sparse afternoon sunlight. His pen taps idly against the empty Moleskine on the table next to him; a light breeze stirs the pages as he contemplates the seals below.

Someone clears their throat next to him, and Viktor turns and looks up. Immediately his breath is stolen by the way the sunlight hits the soft features of the young man looking down at him. He smiles, and the young man returns it with a quirk of his rosebud lips as he sets a latte mug down in front of Viktor, his cheeks burning bright pink.

“Thanks,” Viktor says, noticing the way the man’s seem to warm like the coffee in the mug in front of him. There’s a little Makkachin drawn into the foam; he can’t help but take a picture. “This is so cute!”

The man flushes harder, bobbing a little in thanks. His hands work for a moment before he seems to realise that Viktor can’t understand him, and he flushes harder before beating a hasty retreat across the deck into the cafe. Viktor watches him slip through the French doors with some semblance of regret, as it was probably due to his own cluelessness that the man can’t linger a little longer.

He turns his attention back to the latte. It is warm and smooth on his tongue.

Viktor returns to the cafe several times. It’s not far from his own cottage on Dean, after all, given its proximity to the little beach. The sheltered nature of the beach naturally makes it an excellent rookery for Torvill’s seal population, and so the Katsudon Cafe has earned a reputation on TripAdvisor as ‘the seal cafe’.

All the proceeds from the cafe go to rescue and rehabilitation efforts for the Harbour Watch, so Viktor is all too glad to give them his money in return for Japanese-style pastries and coffee. The main proprietor of the shop, Yuuko Nishigori, has memorised his name by the second time he shows up, and the way he likes his coffee by the third.

“Who’s the cute guy who helps you out?” Viktor asks after his fifth visit. Yuuko looks over at the young man, who’s got earbuds in as he wipes down some empty tables, and smiles.

“Yuuri,” she says. “His family own the Yu-Topia resort. You know, he’s sort of a budding writer himself.”

“Really.” Viktor drums his fingers on the counter. Yuuko presses a button on the coffee grinder. The smell of fresh-ground beans fills the air. “What does he like to write?”

“I don’t really know. We bought some copies of the literary magazines he wrote for in uni, though? He had some short stories and poems in them.” She gestures towards the little reading corner with the soft armchairs and the book and magazine racks. “They’re in there somewhere.”

His latte comes, this time accompanied by a slice of tiramisu. Viktor takes a seat by the big bay window, looking out at the whitecaps and the wheeling gulls overhead, and thinks about the best ways to describe how the light caresses Yuuri’s back as he dances from table to table.

On Viktor’s seventh visit, there’s a seal he hasn’t seen before on the beach, sunning himself a couple meters away from all the others.

“That’s the Katsudon this cafe is named after,” one of Yuuko’s daughters tells him. Axel Nishigori is doodling with chunky crayons on the table next to his, while her sisters pore over something on a camera.

“Yeah, he’s Torvill’s resident seal!” agrees Lutz, marking something on a piece of paper. Viktor has to marvel at today’s youth – when he was six, he barely knew how to write, let alone fill out a tide chart. “Momma says he’s twenty-three years old.”

“That’s really old for a seal,” says Viktor.

“Yeah, he’s an old man.” Loop grins toothily at him. Viktor looks out over the deck railing again, at the seal who is now sprawled out supine against the sand, wriggling to try and get into a comfortable position. There’s a momentary pause as the seal seems to notice him watching, and then it turns on its side, wiggles a flipper, and flops back onto its back.

Viktor’s not sure if the seal had intended to do that, but he’s fascinated all the same.

Yuuri’s there the next time Viktor visits, dutifully working behind the counter. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he asks, for lack of a better conversation starter. Yuuri flips the switch on the espresso machine before he shakes his head.

“He’s mute,” Yuuko explains from where she’s rearranging the cute little seal-themed merchandising. A storm of tourists had come through earlier; Viktor had seen them crowding the deck to take pictures as he passed by the cafe with Makkachin. They’ve probably moved on into the town proper, and are tearing up the boardwalk now. Viktor’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with them.

“Oh,” he says. “Is it a…”

“He’s been signing since childhood,” replies Yuuko. There’s a sudden loud hissing of the steam wand as Yuuri foams up the milk; Viktor can’t blame him for not wanting to hear any more talk about himself.

He dredges up the very little knowledge he has about British Sign, and thanks Yuuri in it when the man brings it to his table. Yuuri flushes, and Viktor wishes he were an artist instead so he could capture the roses in Yuuri’s cheeks.

Viktor’s not stupid. He knows better than to flirt with someone on the job.

But he’s never seen Yuuri off the job, either. The man seems to be a ghost in this town, simultaneously everywhere, on everyone’s tongues, but not quite there.

Katsudon the seal, too, is also an engima like that.

(It takes Viktor a stupid amount of time to notice that neither Yuuri nor Katsudon have ever been seen alongside one another.)

“So, how’s Torvill treating you, Viktor?” Phichit Chulanont asks him as he comes by the cottage with boxes full of delivered groceries. Viktor helps him carry them into the kitchen, setting them on the table with a grin. Phichit snaps a picture of Makkachin lazing on the tile, and Viktor gins.

“It’s been good,” he says. “I’ve been spending most of my time at the Katsudon Cafe, though.”

“I know,” says Phichit, because of course he does; Viktor’s only been in the town for three weeks and he already knows that Phichit Chulanont knows everything about everyone. “My best friend works there, actually! Yuuri Katsuki? Dark, brooding, and handsome?”

Viktor laughs at that. “You can say that again,” he says. Phichit giggles.

“He and I both loved your book, The King and the Skater. Well, I mean, I liked it more than he did – he’s more of a fan of your poems, I think. Or was it one of the earlier novels? I don’t know, he’s bought like all of them.”

Viktor feels his ears heating up. “I heard he’s a writer?” he asks, mostly to deflect the attention. Phichit grins.

“Yeah, he’s really good! I first met him because he wrote my favourite Stuchai fanfic. But his original stuff is also amazing. He performed some sonnets of his at the arts festival last year, and everyone agreed that he was robbed when JJ Leroy won instead.”

Viktor looks out at the late afternoon sun glinting off the distant waves, at the distant shape of the cafe and its deck swarming with people clamouring for photos of Katsudon. Phichit seems to notice that too, as he clears his throat and grins at Viktor.

“Are you going to the dance on the boardwalk tonight?” Phichit asks suddenly. “I’m going to make sure Yuuri goes – he’s not a party person, but he’s also been locked in his room angsting about you for weeks, so –”

“Angsting about me?” echoes Viktor, wondering why his heart suddenly feels like it’s taken up too much room in his chest. Phichit laughs.

“Yeah he couldn’t work up the courage to ask if you’d be going, yourself. You know, because he knows you don’t know sign. So…”

“I’ll try my best,” says Viktor. “And I’ll be at the dance.”

Phichit’s grin widens. “I’ll be sure to let him know!”

When the sun begins to set, Viktor heads out for the boardwalk in a button down and light trousers, and comfortable shoes for dancing.

He passes by the cafe on his way down, though, and decides to stop in for some coffee. Yuuko’s husband Takeshi is manning the counter; neither Yuuko nor Yuuri are anywhere to be seen.

But when Viktor decides to go out to the deck, he notices a familiar mop of dark curls heading up the beach with something black clutched in their arms. Yuuri is clad in his swimming trunks with a towel draped over his shoulders, and even from here Viktor can make out the planes of his stomach and the sparkle of the sunlight against the water droplets coursing down his body.

Yuuri’s feet hit the staircase of the deck, and then he freezes almost comically at the sight of Viktor, a deep crimson blush staining his cheeks and moving downwards. The black thing drops out of his hands, slipping to the floor. It’s a seal pelt.

“Did you…?” Viktor asks. Yuuri hastily shakes his head. He bends down to pick it up; Viktor is greeted with the sight of a sinfully perky ass. “I thought the beach was closed to swimmers.”

Yuuri grimaces, makes a gesture Viktor interprets as ‘long story’, and starts to mount the staircase. Viktor’s stomach drops in anticipation, as his gloriously shirtless form draws closer and closer to him.

“Are you going to the dance tonight?” he asks, stupidly, as Yuuri reaches him. The pelt sparkles in Yuuri’s grasp; the sunlight sparkles, too, in the water glistening in his hair.

Yuuri nods. Viktor steps just a little closer.

“Could we… maybe go together?” he asks, adding the sign for dance and pointing between the two of them for good measure.

Yuuri contemplates it, and then nods enthusiastically. the sealskin nearly dropping out of his hands in his eager assent. He clutches it harder then, and darts past him into the cafe. Viktor has to follow him quickly.

“I’ll wait for you, then?”

He gets a pause, a quick nod. The door swings as Yuuri vanishes behind the counter; moments later there’s the sound of water running from the back. Takeshi Nishgori chuckles at him.

“So, has Yuuri finally made a move?” he asks. Viktor blinks at him.

“Sorry, finally?” he asks.

Takeshi laughs, shakes his head. “Well, it was about time,” he says. Viktor decides that the man’s being unhelpful, and orders a latte for the night.

Yuuri comes back down just as he’s finishing up the cup, clad in a button-down with dark trousers and a set of braces, and Viktor swallows as he watches Yuuri examine his gelled-back hair in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” he asks. Yuuri nods at him, taking his arm with a small smile. Viktor feels twenty times lighter, as he tosses a wave back at Takeshi and leads Yuuri out of the cafe, towards the boardwalk.

(It takes him a stupid amount of time to realise exactly why Yuuri would be swimming with a sealskin in his hands. But when he does, he groans in realisation, and the selkie lying next to him giggles quietly before raising himself on his elbows and kissing him.

“What the fuck,” Viktor declares. “I’m so fucking blind.”

‘I think you were distracted by other things at the time,’ Yuuri points out.

“Don’t call me out like this,” Viktor whines, putting his face in his hands.

Yuuri giggles, and kisses him again. The sealskin hangs on its hook by the kitchen door, next to Makkachin’s leash and Viktor’s mackintosh.)

#beside the dancing sea #yoi #viktuuri #victuuri #lily's dabbles #thehobbem #ask #so this viktor is apparently 100x more fucking clueless lmao good job

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academicatheism · 7 years ago

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Another Evolution Denier

godlike-and-cowering:

1) Darwin defined the mechanism of evolution as decent with modification, and what he hypothesized was a trend in the fossil record showing small changes into speciation. We don’t see that. Archeologists don’t see that. Paleontologists don’t see that. We see punctuated equilibrium. That’s the notion that species arise abruptly at sporadic points in time. Almost as if they might have been placed here? Ponder

I’ll set aside all of the Deepak Chopra-esque woo woo you talked about in our chat and focus on your egregious ignorance on evolution. Descent with modification is precisely what we see. It’s fine to be ignorant of the fossil record, but gradual changes do result in macroevolutionary speciation stemming beyond beak length and girth, fur pigmentation, neck size, and so on; I’ll go over this in detail later. I already discussed whale evolution and human evolution in a previous response. I briefly mentioned horse evolution, but that’s another marquee example of macroevolution:

This isn’t an example of punctuated equilibrium, which you misdefine as species arising abruptly because “they might have been placed there” – so I’ll return to that in a bit; this is an example of evolutionary modification over long periods of time resulting in speciation. Paleontologists have certainly seen what you said they don’t see. If not for being able to see what you’re claiming they’re blind to, we wouldn’t have such clear examples in the fossil record.

Before I go on, punctuated equilibrium is a hypothesis put forward by Stephen Jay Gould and Niles Eldridge, which states that even over a period of millions of years, species are stable. This much more gradual change is then punctuated by rapid changes resulting in new species. This change is then followed by further stability. Bryozoan have been stable for roughly 140 million years and their fossil record appears to confirm Gould and Eldridge’s hypothesis. As Berkley’s Evolution page tells us, however, punctuated equilibrium doesn’t:

- Suggest that Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection is wrong. - Mean that the central conclusion of evolutionary theory, that life is old and - organisms share a common ancestor, no longer holds. - Negate previous work on how evolution by natural selection works. - Imply that evolution only happens in rapid bursts.

Punctuated equilibrium isn’t a challenge to natural selection. It’s simply another evolutionary model and it isn’t at all clear that punctuated equilibrium occurs most frequently or that it is the dominant evolutionary model. That debate rages on, but there are of course cases that show it to be less prevalent. In fact, homologies and atavisms may show that punctuated equilibrium is uncommon. As Jerry Coyne explains:

The most striking atavism in our own species is called the “coccygeal projection,” better known as the human tail. As we’ll learn shortly, early in development human embryos have a sizable fishlike tail which begins to disappear about seven weeks into development (its bones and tissues are simply reabsorbed by the body). Rarely, however, it doesn’t regress completely, and a baby is born with a tail projecting from the base of its spine (figure 14). The tails vary tremendously: some are “soft.” without bone, while others contain vertebrae — the same vertebrae normally fused together in our tailbone. Some tails are an inch long, others nearly a foot. And they aren’t just simple flaps of skin, but can have hair, muscles, blood vessels, and nerves. Some can even wiggle! Fortunately, these awkward protrusions are easily removed by surgeons.

What can this mean, other than that we still carry a developmental program for making tails? Indeed, recent genetic work has shown that we carry exactly the same genes that make tails in animals like mice, but these genes are normally deactivated in human fetuses. Tails appear to be true atavisms.

Coyne, Jerry A. Why evolution is true. Oxford: Oxford U Press, 2010. 65-66 Print.

What you miss and clearly didn’t anticipate as a part of my response is the genetic component. All phenotypical traits have corresponding genotypes. A phenotypical trait is what’s observed when genes are expressed whilst the genotype is what results in such traits. Without a clear understanding of the genotype-phenotype distinction, natural selection can’t be understood. I must add that while there is a clear distinction between the two, there’s also a clear causal connection and this is precisely what Coyne points out. We have tail-making genes, but generally speaking, humans don’t develop tails. That’s because the tail-making genes do not express themselves, hence there’s no corresponding phenotypical trait. When they do happen to express themselves, there’s a corresponding phenotypical trait.

For anyone who might be confused, an atavism is not a vestigial trait. The human tail is sometimes erroneously considered a vestigial trait, but it isn’t because it’s not a non-functioning version of a tail. In other words, if all humans were born with tails that don’t wiggle, wag, and so on, then it would be a lot more like an ostrich’s wings. The ostrich has repurposed its wings to help it maintain balance and to add thrust when it runs, but an ostrich notably doesn’t and cannot fly. Their wings are vestigial structures.

Atavisms, on the other hand, are phenotypical traits that reappear in a modern individual or even within a genomic lineage but not in a population. It is entirely possible for a grandparent, parent, and child to have been born with a tail; this is an example of an atavism reappearing in a lineage. Though that’s possible, there are no observed instances of any large portion of the human population being born with tails. In any case, the tail, unlike the human appendix, is not a repurposed structure and thus, isn’t a vestigial trait.

Homologies may appear to show a so-called body plan by a designer in the minds of some, but homologies, if that view is to be taken seriously, show only a severe lack of imagination. As Francois Jacobs noted, evolution is a tinkerer. It isn’t at all like a designer and this is precisely why this apparent lack of imagination is widespread. As Prothero explains:

For example, the basic vertebrate forelimb has the same basic elements: a single large bone (the humerus), a pair of two long bones in the forearm (the radius and ulna), a number of wrist bones (carpals and metacarpals), and multiple bones (phalanges) support five digits (fingers). But look at the wide array of ways that some animals use this basic body plan! Whales have modified them into a flipper, while bats have extended the fingers out to support a wing membrane. Birds also developed a wing, but in an entirely different way, with most of the hand and wrist bones reduced or fused together, and feather shafts providing the wing support instead of fingers bones. Horses have lost their side toes and walk on one large finger, the middle finger. None of this makes any sense unless these animals inherited a standard body plan in place from their distinct ancestors and had to modify it to suit their present-day function and ecology. These common elements (bones, muscles, nerves) that serve different functions despite being built from the same basic parts are known as homologous structures. For example, the finger bones of a bat wing are homologous with our finger bones, and so on.

Prothero, Donald R., and Carl Dennis. Buell. Evolution: what the fossils say and why it matters. New York: Columbia U Press, 2007. 105-106. Print.

He goes on to explain that an “intelligent designer” wouldn’t jury-rig these structures using the bones that these individuals inherited from their ancestors. Indeed a perfect and infinitely intelligent designer would design wings in the best way possible. Whale flippers wouldn’t have differed in their bone configuration compared to the flippers of fish and marine reptiles. Though all of these structures have the same function, all of them are configured differently, and though they’re configured differently, they are inherited from the organism’s ancestors.

While you’re looking for justification in the fact that species arise rapidly “as though they were put there” or created from scratch, you’re paying attention to what’s on the surface. In other words, punctuated equilibrium cannot and doesn’t attempt to disprove the notion that structures like wings, flippers, and hands evolved, and that they evolved from ancestral bones. Speciation isn’t the only evidence we have; genotypes resulting in phenotypical traits aren’t the only evidence we have; we also have evidence of ancestral bone structures being reconfigured to suit modern purposes. If punctuated equilibrium were a challenge to natural selection, atavisms and homologies would be explained alternatively and better, or be explained away entirely; punctuated equilibrium doesn’t accomplish that.

2) two scientists tried and failed to propose a start to the central dogma of biology which is DNA -> RNA -> PROTEINS Even using ribozymes with amino acids and lighting in a shallow bed couldn’t assemble the right order or even close to a viable RNA transcript that could also self replicate. Even under water under pressures and thermal heat, still the same outcome. It’s a “what came first, the chicken or the egg?” Type of equation that still baffles EVERY BIOLOGIST TODAY. You need critical proteins to replicate or transcribe DNA or RNA, and those critical proteins are encoded in the RNA, which is encoded in the DNA. If this isn’t clear please let me know because I want to make sure you understand that this isn’t something any scientist can sidestep. Not now, so let future generations that have better answers use biology to undermine a common architect.

This is a classic example of an argument from ignorance or alternatively, an argument from personal incredulity. Falling short of saying your argument fails because it’s fallacious, which would constitute a fallacy on its own, namely fallacy fallacy, I’m going to point out that your whole argument is a fallacy. It’s as good as Hoyle’s Fallacy. You’re basically concluding that since past and modern scientists haven’t established abiogenesis, that future scientists can’t. That’s a fallacious inductive argument stemming from your desperate need to believe in a creator. There’s that and having the sequence entirely wrong. RNA World actually posits RNA (ribozymes) –> DNA –> Proteins. Ribozymes catalyzed chemical reactions in the earliest lifeforms. These reactions eventually resulted in DNA and more complex protein synthesis.

Aside from that, you act as though abiogenesis is limited to RNA World. You say nothing of panspermia or what the Uray-Miller Experiment attempted to show, namely that life started with an electric spark. You also say nothing of the prevalence of hydrothermal vents in the oceans of ancient Earth, a place where chemosynthetic organisms are known to thrive. Panspermia is especially enticing given that the building blocks of life have been found on meteorites and that, in fact, the building blocks are ubiquitous not only in our solar system, but in the universe. Life here might have been seeded from elsewhere and far from pushing the buck back, it’s a matter of probability.

What’s more probable – an invisible, incompetent designer making life from scratch or organic matter arising from inorganic matter? What’s more probable – an incompetent designer using organic matter to animate life or organic matter going through gradual chemical evolution and eventually resulting in life? The probability favors the idea that well-established inorganic to organic reactions eventually resulted in organic compounds resulting in life. RNA World is simply one way that might have happened, but certainly not the only way that’s been proposed.

In any case, god used to be the widespread explanation for everything from storms to earthquakes to volcanic eruptions. Since these have been thoroughly explained without requiring supernatural agency, what’s next is to relegate god to what remains of human ignorance. Specifically, since we don’t yet know in full detail how the universe and life came to be, god is the placeholder explanation. Given your penchant for inductive arguments (faulty ones at that), I’ll present a much more compelling and likely inductive argument.

This is where you point and laugh and say the predictable: “taking notes from a comedian…LOLz.” Well, it’s quite telling that a comedian, not a scientist, has a better grasp of reality than you do. He makes a valid point anyway and pointing out that he’s a comedian is ad hominem. Philosophy is a human endeavor and as such, everyone has the potential to do good philosophy – and here, Minchin is presenting a solid inductive argument and thus, doing good philosophy.

God or supernatural agents used to be a primary mode of explanation. That simply isn’t the case anymore. People like yourself have relegated god to the posts of our ignorance, but as history has shown time and again, the god explanation will be decisively supplanted by a better, more objective explanation. Moreover, that explanation will be replicable and falsifiable. The god explanation obviously lacks basic scientific criteria in that it isn’t replicable; it’s merely false consensus. It also isn’t falsifiable because apparently, even the notion of a multiverse doesn’t cancel out the god explanation for some believers. Believers don’t allow the god explanation to go away because they’re intransigent individuals who have a desperate, deeply rooted need to believe.

They have projected their ego and psychological fragility onto the whole of the universe in stating that the creator must look like and favor them. Aside from that, the god explanation has been regressive and stagnating rather than progressive. The god explanation leads to no proliferation of knowledge, breakthroughs, and solutions. It leaves us completely and utterly without sound explanation for our current ignorance. There once existed a woo woo believer like you that said that scientists and natural philosophers will never figure out x or y; once they did figure out x or y, the matter became a and b; then they figured out a and b, and so the matter became w and x, and so on. “God is the ever-receding pocket of scientific ignorance”, as Neil deGrasse Tyson so wonderfully put it.

3) you must be thinking of micro evolution because that is something that biologists do all agree on. This is the notion that evolutionary changes can occur selectively within a species especially over a short period of time. This is the example of Darwin’s finches, and the break of the polar bears, all these examples I’m sure you would have hoped to fuck me with. Especially changes within the gene pool. But you would see that even polar bears and grizzleys would have a viable cub. You would see that darwin’s finches would be in fact fertile and viable. They’re the same species. There’s no speciation. What defines speciation across the board is the ability for two organisms to provide a viable fertile offspring. Would you call every dog a different species? When we can cross breed every one like we have for centuries? See, evolution is one species giving rise to many. We don’t even have a clean example of a definitive species giving rise to another completely. That’s macroevolution. That’s something the scientists of tomorrow also need to investigate to substantiate your take on evolution. So until then, hold those arguments also.

My “take” on evolution has already been firmly substantiated. Apart from the two fossil records I summarized in my response to that other evolution denier, I briefly went over another one above. Aside from that, I went over evolution at the genetic and phenotypical level, something you failed to anticipate. What’s more is that we do have clean examples of one species, over a long period of time, giving rise to a completely different species. In fact, the emergence of polar bears is a macroevolutionary example! All you show here is a misapprehension of evolution.

You don’t understand macroevolution. You’re not thinking one species branching off into two or more distinct species. You’re thinking pokemon; you’re thinking Dratini becoming Dragonite with one intermediary barely explaining how the thing went from a sea dragon to a bipedal dragon with wings! That’s not macroevolution. Dogs are, first and foremost, the product of mostly artificial selection and any difference in breeds is selected, directly or indirectly, by humans.

Macroevolution, on the other hand, has been observed repeatedly. You gave an example in the emergence of polar bears. There’s also the example of homo antercessor splitting into homo neaderthalensis and homo sapien, and perhaps even Denisovans, homo floresiensis and homo naledi. Whales, dolphins, and porpoises are cetaceans with a common ancestor and apart from the many distinct whale, dolphin, and porpoise species we have today, there are many that have gone extinct. Again (!), we have plenty of fossils. So pronounced is this macroevolutionary change, that the criterion of interbreeding is no longer met. A blue whale wouldn’t even attempt to breed with a say, an hourglass dolphin or a clymene. Heck, it wouldn’t even attempt breeding with a humpback or beluga.

The issue with what you’re saying narrows down to scientific illiteracy. You limit speciation to sympatric speciation and utterly ignore allopatric speciation. What you describe, namely two species that are geographically close enough to interbreed, is sympatric speciation. What you don’t even mention is allopatric speciation, which occurs when species sharing a common ancestor are geographically isolated or vicariant and therefore, can’t breed. Vicariance prevents gene flow and therefore, interbreeding. As PBS explains:

An example of vicariance is the separation of marine creatures on either side of Central America when the Isthmus of Panama closed about 3 million years ago, creating a land bridge between North and South America. Nancy Knowlton of the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute in Panama has been studying this geological event and its effects on populations of snapping shrimp. She and her colleagues found that shrimp on one side of the isthmus appeared almost identical to those on the other side – having once been members of the same population.

But when she put males and females from different sides of the isthmus together, they snapped aggressively instead of courting. They had become separate species, just as the theory would predict.

You also didn’t mention parapatric speciation. Though it occurs a much lesser frequency, it has been observed. Parapatric speciation is being observed, in real time, in Anthoxanthum odoratum. A portion of the species lives in contaminated soil and have developed tolerance for heavy metals whilst another portion lives in the same soil and has not developed this tolerance. The tolerant plants and intolerant plants are geographically near to one another and yet, they don’t fertilize with one another because their flowering times differ. We are observing, in real time, the permanent end to gene flow within a continuous population.

I strongly suggest that you get a handle on what you’re looking to deny before speaking on the matter. I promised not only to put your ignorance on display, but also to correct it – not so much for you, but for people who share your views. It is a known fact that the person receiving correction tends to double down. It is also known that minds are changed indirectly and in private. I’m not so much concerned about you correcting your ignorance; I don’t see that happening anytime soon because it appears your need to believe is tied to psychological changes resulting from frequent narcotics (ab)use.

Exchanges like this do present good opportunity to communicate to them who are currently ignorant but have no stake in this particular game. My point isn’t to demean them, but rather to get them to understand that they don’t actually understand what they purport to understand and that, in fact, they lack even a perfunctory grasp of the topic. You don’t get evolution and that much is clear by a failure to understand the genotype-phenotype distinction and connection, the micro-macro distinction, and the types of speciation there are. Apart from that, you lack a basic comprehension of what constitutes a scientific theory, which explains why you think the god explanation holds water. You also show a lack of depth in the topic of abiogenesis, pretending to debase merely one theory (RNA World) whilst also demonstrating a poor understanding of the theory.

Read more; take some courses; use the internet; most importantly, stay far away from pseudoscientific, apologetic sites defending creationism and intelligent design. One thing is clear, if one wants to give a designer credit for the diversity of life on this planet, they credit a demonstrably incompetent designer that repurposes existing material in a haphazard way – the same process that can be achieved by blind chance. The evolution of life on this planet is a statistical process, a process of trial and error that doesn’t present to us any opportunity to give credit to or cast blame on a designer.

#science #evolution #paleontology #apologetics #creationism #intelligent design #speciation #homology #atavism #vicariance

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kuraiamore · 7 years ago

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Zura 2017 bday fic, plum rain

pairing: Gen (though can be GinZura if you feel like it)

fandom: Gintama

rating: G

summary: Happy birthday, Zura!

I know, I know, I’m late, but this ended up so much longer than I expected (I mean, all my fics end up like that, but still...), and I’m a very easily distracted creature >.< In any case, it’s done now, so I hope you enjoy!<3

AO3 or read below

Another day of nothing but dreary summer rain, the overcast skies so heavy with water Gintoki thinks he should start stepping outside for his morning showers and save on the water bill—except going outside would mean standing around in the muggy weather and having to deal with the outside humidity making the air dense and sticky against his skin.

Yeah, better to just keep lounging around on his desk chair and wait for the rainy season to pass.

After all, if snivelling kids and high school brats get a summer holiday, why can’t he? He is most definitely still a kid at heart; his hoarded pile of Shounen Jump could attest to that, which reminds him…

He swivels around on his chair and checks the calendar hanging by the window.

Yep, Monday; the latest issue of his most beloved magazine should be out by now, waiting for him on the cheap wooden shelves of convenience stores and train station kiosks.

His fingers twitch, the phantom sensation of rough paper and waxy front and back covers sliding across his pads. He glances out the window; the downpour hasn’t relented at all, torrents of rain falling lazy and fat over Edo and sending the slightly rotten petrichor of the city wafting up into the Yorozuya office.

“Ne, Kagura,” he singsongs, swinging his chair back around to look across the room at the young Yato seated on the floor between coffee table and couch, a pen in hand and doodling absentmindedly on a letter she's been composing to Umibouzu for the past hour, more paper and pens in varying colours scattered about the table.

“What is it, Gin-chan?” she asks, mild and sweet as the summer rain singing around them. The faraway quality to her voice that always appears on slow, rainy days dips her words with a soft wistfulness she’s probably not even aware of. Gintoki drums his fingers against the desk and waits for the butt of the pen to stop moving and bright blue eyes to turn in his direction.

“You hungry?” He does his best to keep his voice cool and nonchalant, but long experience living with him immediately makes Kagura narrow her eyes and cock her head to the side.

“And if I said I was?”

“What’s with that suspicious look, huh? Here I am, your gracious and generous guardian, simply wanting to offer you the chance to head down to the convenience store with money earned from my blood and sweat so that you can buy yourself a snack.”

Her eyes narrow even further, as if she’s squinting at something particularly loathsome.

“And pick up the latest copy of Jump for me while you’re there,” he finally relents.

“What a scummy adult you are, Gin-chan,” Kagura says, somehow managing to look down on him even though she’s the one sitting on the floor, “trying to trick young girls into going out into the rain for a stupid stack of papers no decent person over the age of fifteen would be caught dead with. What if I caught a cold and got sick, huh? What kind of guardian would you be then, huh? Would you feed me lots of rice and pickled seaweed and wait on me hand and foot until I got better, aa?” She pauses, her eyes widening to what would be a guileless stare if it wasn’t for the sly gleam sneaking through. “Actually, yes, give me some money, Gin-chan, I think I’ll head down to the shops after all.”

As Kagura stretches out her free hand towards him, palm up, he kicks out with his foot and spins around to face the window again.

“Ahh, look at all that rain out there!” He gesticulates wildly up at the grey-white sky. “Guess you better stay indoors after all, Kagura! Wouldn’t want you getting sick now, would we?”

“You should go out, Gin-chan; idiots can’t catch colds, so you’ll be fine.”

Gintoki only grunts in reply, leaning back heavily in his chair and staring drearily out the window. His only solace is the thought that no one with a respectable job is likely out in the downpour, and surely no working man or woman has time for the ¥300 childish mindlessness of Shounen Jump. There’ll most definitely be a copy waiting for him tomorrow, and with the month almost at its end, the rainy season should be over any day now.

He settles more comfortably into the desk chair, content to listen to the rain wash over the city and let the day pass by in quiet banality.

He zones out to the tinkling of water droplets falling on metallic roofs, the rush of the water gurgling and trickling through the empty streets below, and almost misses the knock at the door, only just managing to discern the rhythmic tap-tap-tap pounding beneath the pitter-patter.

“Gin-chan, door,” Kagura says helpfully.

“What the hell,” he mutters to himself, peeling himself from fake leather and moving sluggishly down the hallway to the front of the apartment. “Who in their right mind would be outside in this crappy weather?”

He pulls open the sliding panel and his entire version goes white, a blast of heated air flying into his face. At first he thinks he’s gone and fainted for no apparent reason, but then he blinks several times in rapid succession and takes a step back to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway, the wide outline of his body almost blurring into the white-grey of the sky. In one flipper, the ever-creepy alien duck holds a slim but wide black case by two strappy handles; in the other, his trademark signpost, words sketched out in big, black strokes.

GOOD AFTERNOON YOROZUYA. MAY I COME IN?

A folded umbrella, leaning against the wooden rail, slowly drips a tiny lake onto their porch.

“Don’t get any water into the house,” Gintoki says, moving back to let their visitor in.

Before he can turn to lead the way back into the main room, Elizabeth holds out the case and looks at him expectantly.

Gintoki pulls a face, suspicion in every line, then sighs and takes hold of the straps, hoping that whatever Joui madness he had just resigned himself to wouldn’t take up more than a few hours, and especially wouldn’t involve any running, fighting or general physical activity to be done outside.

A squelching sound pulls him out of his thoughts; he watches in a mix of disbelief and horror as Elizabeth pulls off his duck feet, careful not to touch the wet soles, and lines them up neatly in the genkan. He suppresses the urge to shudder when he catches sight of a pair of feet and ankles peeking out from under the sheet of white, desperately not thinking about what exactly is living under the sheet.

Instead, he carries the case into the living room-cum-office and sets it down on the coffee table above Kagura’s scattered writing equipment. Face up, it takes up almost a third of the whole table.

“Ah? What’s this, Gin-chan?” Kagura stops in the middle of drawing looping curls of silver on a stick figure standing beside two other stick figures, one with two balls of orange and the other with a pair of glasses, and looks up. “Oh, Eli! What are you doing here?”

Gintoki plonks himself on the couch near Kagura as Elizabeth seats himself on the opposite side of the table. The Yorozuya-minus-one both watch curiously as Elizabeth opens up the case and pulls out a card almost as large as the case itself, turning it over for them to read the words emblazoned on the front in shining gold.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATSURA-SAN!

In the background, various shades of dark blue blur together in a watercolour sea that make the words appear to glow. More gold swirls and dustings of gold glitter artfully flow across the expanse of blue, fireworks over an ocean.

Kagura lets out a gasp, “Eli, this is so pretty! Gin-chan, why didn’t you tell me it’s Zura’s birthday?”

Gintoki opens his mouth to protest, because how is he meant to remember the wighead’s birthday, he barely even remembers his own most years, but at that moment, Elizabeth unfolds the card with a flourish and the words vanish from his tongue as his eyes roam across the page. A chaotic jumble of scribbled messages fill up the almost entire space, handwriting in every degree of elegance and messiness spilling in every direction. Blue, black, green, red, purple, and bizarrely, neon pink ink clash together, words edging against each other as their writers vied for room to compose their birthday messages. The only real spot of white left is a small, rhombic patch near the upper left corner.

Near it, Gintoki reads a long, winding message in familiar handwriting.

‘Happy Birthday, Katsura-san! I know that we haven’t know each other for that long, but I feel really happy and grateful to have met you, both as a man and as a samurai. You have taught me a lot over the years, even if it’s only what NOT to do. Thank you for supporting me, and the Yorozuya, whenever we’ve needed it; we’ll always be here to support you too! I hope you have a really great birthday, filled with lots of laughter and smiles! —Your friend, Shimura Shinpachi’

“Look, Kagura.” He points out the message. “Patsuan’s already written a message for us.”

“What are you talking about Gin-chan?” Kagura picks up an orange pen, the one she must have used to draw her hair buns. “Shin-chan wrote such a boring message; we need to write something fun! It’s Zura’s birthday!”

Nodding to herself, Kagura writes a bold ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZURA!!!!’, followed by drawings of a round cake bearing a single candle, a wonky box topped with an extravagantly big bow, and a party popper. The whole thing takes up half the remaining white space, cutting orange lines into the words of the surrounding messages. Gintoki’s eye twitches.

“Oi, leave some space for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Now shh, let an artist work.”

Resisting the urge to grumble, Gintoki sits back, catching sight of Elizabeth watching Kagura draw. If Gintoki has to guess, he would say that the alien duck is smiling, though it’s hard to tell with the duck bill.

Several minutes later, Kagura jumps up with an excited shout.

“Done!”

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZURA!!!! Let’s do K-BBQ for your birthday next year!!’

Floating all around the message are balloons and stars in every colour she owns—she had even taken the time to squeeze them into the tiny spaces between other people’s messages, filling the card up completely with colour.

Gintoki doesn’t have room to write even the tiniest ‘hapiba’ that wouldn’t be an illegible series of dots.

Ignoring the strangely hollow feeling in his stomach, he turns to Kagura’s grinning face.

“Looks good,” he admits.

Kagura beams, carefully folding up the card and putting it back in the portfolio case for Elizabeth. Over her head, the alien duck tilts his head in question towards Gintoki; Gintoki stealthily waves a hand in response, shrugging lightly. Understanding, Elizabeth accepts the proffered case from Kagura, bowing to both to them, and starts making his way towards the door.

With Kagura seeing the Joui rebel out, Gintoki wanders back to his desk chair, settling himself to face the window once more. Behind him, the sound of footsteps as Kagura comes back, then the scratching of pen against paper. If Gintoki wanted to, he could pretend that Elizabeth’s short visit had never happened.

But.

His eyes keep drifting to the calendar, circling around the date.

June 26th

Zura’s birthday...

His eyes drift shut, the sound of the rain soothing his ears—

—they had spent a night huddled in an alleyway once, their only shelter from the rain a protruding roof, because the men had found out their General Commander’s birthday and that had evidently been enough cause for the entire army to get drunk—

—Sakamoto had bought a bottle of saké for Zura’s birthday once; it was the first time Zura had ever drank a full bottle all to himself, trying to blame the beautiful red flush of his face on the summer heat—

—once, before—

—back when things had been simple, he and Takasugi had found a hidden pool at the foot of a mountain, in the forests on the far outskirts of the village, and spent the days of the long summer week leading up to Zura’s birthday stealing away to deposit bits of hard candy wrapped in pink paper, packets of nuts and red bean mochi, and the occasional bit of fruit into a box they stashed in the upper branches of a nearby tree, the lid carefully tied down against any curious beaks or paws, until the moment when they could bring Zura up to their secret spot and watch his face light up with pure delight; they had spent the whole day swimming and lounging and laughing, sugar tingling on their tongues—

—one night, the three of them huddled in their futons, Zura had confessed that his grandmother had always bought him plums as a treat for his birthday; the next morning, ignoring the dew still clinging to the grass, he and Takasugi got down onto their hands and knees and let Zura climb onto their backs to pick the ripe red fruits hanging down from lush green branches, the smell of earth and rain and plum all around them.

Gintoki opens his eyes; outside, the rain falls.

“Oi, Kagura, I’m heading out.”

“Huh? Whatcha doing out for, Gin-chan?”

“…Shounen Jump.”

“Oh, hmm. Okay then!”

“Yeah, be back in a bit.”

He slips his wallet into his pocket, pulls on his boots, grabs an umbrella, and is out the door in less than a minute, opening up the umbrella as he heads down the stairs and onto the street. It’s a quick fifteen minute walk to the nearest grocer, water splashing under his boots the whole way. The old lady watching the store gives him a kind smile as he starts picking out the juiciest-looking plums from the stand. It makes him want to protest, and tell her it’s not what it looks like, except what does that even mean, he’s just a regular guy picking out regular plums from a regular fruit store, it’s not like they’re meant for anyone, urgh, okay, he’s just going to pay for the plums and leave.

The old lady smiles at him as he walks out, plastic bag full of plums in hand.

He’s halfway down the street when he realises he doesn’t know where he’s going, that he’s never gone searching for the Joui rebel of his own accord, has no idea where he should even start looking.

(Kagura would know; in between the itinerary she keeps of her father’s travels and the timetable of Shinpachi’s kendo classes at the Koudoukan, she saves the slip of paper holding the location of the latest Joui meeting spot, slipped under their door every month.)

The longer he stands there, the worst the rain seems to feel as it slogs and hammers over his umbrella. The air is oppressive, the collar of his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his neck, his hair all frizzled and bristly in the humidity. Frustration gnaws at his chest, and he’s about ready to chuck the damn plums into the bin just to make himself feel better when a familiar low tenor calls out his name.

“Gintoki?”

Looking up, Gintoki sees the man he had been just about to give up looking for standing a few paces in front of him, a large white-and-yellow patterned umbrella shielding him from the downpour around them. He’s forgone his haori, dressed simply in only his usual blue kimono. His hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, only his fringe and a few loose strands of black framing his face.

Somehow, he looks incredibly young, even though he’s aged another year.

Gintoki licks his lips.

“Oi Zura, the hell you doing out here in this rain?” he asks, completely naturally, walking forward to close the few steps between them.

“I’m not Zura, I’m Katsura,” Zura says on autopilot, then makes a contemplative hum, the sound almost drowned out under the rain. “I tried call a Joui meeting today to discuss our future plans, but everybody said they were busy and that I should take the day off. Even Elizabeth left me this morning!” He sighs dramatically, shaking his head. Gintoki watches his tail of hair swish behind his neck with the movement, somehow still looking soft and silky even with the heat in the air. “Honestly, just how do they think we’ll bring change to the country if we’re not constantly striving towards a new dawn, a new tomorrow? Days shouldn’t be wasted so frivolously like that, it’s unbecoming of a samurai.”

“Japan will still be here in a day,” Gintoki says, his voice gentle despite himself.

Zura shoots him an odd look, eyes searching, and Gintoki glances away, his grip on both bag and umbrella tightening.

He’s relieved when Zura lets the comment go unremarked, instead asking, “so what are you doing out here?”

His whole body relaxes, and he holds up the bag and lets it swing in Zura’s face.

“Grocery shopping. Apartment’s out of food and plums are in season. You want one?”

He supposes he can’t blame Zura for the baffled expression that crosses the man’s face, though it smoothes out a second later as a soft smile lights up.

“Yes, that would be nice,” he says.

If he tries hard enough, Gintoki can pretend that the rapid beating of his heart is no more than the pounding of the water falling around them. He coughs lightly into the back of his hand, the plastic bag rustling with the movement.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he mutters, averting his eyes from Zura’s gaze and making a show of looking up at the sky, even though the only thing he can see is the red of his own umbrella.

He makes no effort to lead.

“…I have a place we can go,” Zura finally offers, turning on his heel.

Gintoki hums in acknowledgement, following after the rebel; they walk in a sort of meandering stroll, the rain and emptiness of the streets beckoning Gintoki to a dreamlike haze. When they finally reach their destination, a small traditional townhouse off a main road, the only thing Gintoki can clearly remember from their walk is the sound of the rain, the weight of the plums in his hand, and Zura.

Leaving their umbrellas and shoes at the entrance, they pad through to the main room at rear of the house, where Zura slides the shoji screen open to reveal a garden grown wild, leaves and branches tangled and groping over sand and stone. Gintoki plonks down on the tatami mats, handing over the bag when Zura gestures for them. The rebel walks off and comes back a minute later carrying a bowl filled with several pieces of the reddish fruit, water droplets glistening on their skin.

Zura sits down cross-legged and sets the bowl between them. They grab a plum each; the plum juice is cool and sweet on Gintoki’s tongue.

The rain outside eases as they eat, a soft breeze drifting through the falling droplets to cool the damp heat clinging to their skin.

Gintoki waits until he hears Zura bite into his second plum before breaking the silence.

“Hey Zura.”

“Hm?”

“Happy birthday.”

A ragged hacking noise.

“O-Oi, you okay?!”

Not knowing what else to do, Gintoki thumps frantically on Zura’s back with his clean hand, trying to catch the other samurai’s face through the fall of his fringe and the hand raised to his face, plum clutched in his fingers.

The choking sounds taper away into little hics, but Zura’s shoulders are still hunched over and shaking, still hiding his face behind hair, hand and plum. It takes Gintoki a few long seconds to realise the wighead bastard is laughing.

Immediately Gintoki’s whole face heats up, and he slaps Zura’s back again out of embarrassment and slight vindictiveness.

“Ah, sorry, Gintoki,” Zura says when the giggles finally subside completely and he can look up properly, letting his hand drop, “I wasn’t expecting that.” His eyes flash suddenly to the left, head tilting slightly with the movement. “Ah, but that could explain… Gintoki, wait here.”

Bemused, Gintoki waits as Zura stands up again, finishing his plum is quick bites and throwing the seed into the garden, and scurries off. He returns carrying a giant saké bottle as tall as his torso, and a round lacquered box painted with pink and white blossoms set against a crimson background. He sets them down next to the bowl of plums, opening the lid of the box to reveal candy wrapped in petal pink.

The scents of alcohol and mountain forest mingle in Gintoki’s memory.

“Elizabeth gave them to me, said they arrived this morning,” Zura says, a note of something bittersweet laced through his voice, “after the men told me to take the day off. I didn’t even think… Did you plan this?”

Gintoki looks at him, perplexed. “What?”

“Did you plan this?” Zura says again, as if Gintoki hadn’t heard instead being merely confused. He leans forward, earnestness taking over the timbre of his voice. “Elizabeth messaged me and told me to go to the convenience store in Kabuki District. I thought I was going to meet him, but then I ran into you.” His eyes shine.

Beyond the shoji doors, the rain recedes to a lull, the only noise vibrating through the air to their ears the slow chime of raindrops dripping off leaves and splattering to the ground.

Gintoki splutters, his brain running to make sense of Zura’s said, tripping over the words and untenably distracted by the intense way Zura is looking at him, the dark fall of his hair bringing out the gold of his eyes.

“I didn’t—it wasn’t planned—I didn’t even know—wait, that thing knows how to message? Since when did you even carry around a phone, Zura?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gintoki. Elizabeth doesn’t know how to message; he writes on his sign, takes a picture of it, and sends that to me.” He says this so matter-of-factly, the veins at Gintoki’s temples pop slightly with annoyance. “And of course I carry a phone. How else would I keep in contact with all the Joui members? Gintoki, you’re the only one who doesn’t carry a phone, you know.”

“Shut up, the Yorozuya doesn’t need a phone, we have plenty of loyal clientele. What’s the point of carrying around a phone, huh? It’s just useless weight. Besides, Kagura—”

Gintoki stops short, his brain jumping through loops as he remembers how docilely Kagura had let him go, no questions or snide remarks or demands for her favourite snacks from the convenience store. How well connected the young alien is in their rough’n’tumble town, her journal full of locations and names and numbers.

Gintoki groans, wiping a hand over his face. “Meddlesome brat.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Gintoki says loudly, making a note to buy Kagura some dango on the way home.

Zura smiles knowingly; Gintoki picks up a pink wrapper and throws it at his face. Zura laughs as it bounces off his nose, catching it in his hand before freeing the bit of crystallised sugar and popping it in his mouth. He picks up another piece and offers it to the man beside him.

Gintoki rolls the bit of candy around his tongue; as it melts into syrup in his mouth, sweet as Zura’s smile, sunlight breaks through the clouds and stretches across their laps. The whole garden gleams, light glinting silver off still-hanging raindrops.

The air, he thinks, rolling another piece of purple-red fruit to his old friend, smells of rain and earth and plum.

#katsura kotarou #sakata gintoki #gintama #hbd zura!<3 #my fic #my writing

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