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wolven91 · 1 year ago

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Drifting - Part 3

The Nerve Suit was skintight and left nothing to the imagination.

Casper had already tried plucking the thin layer of jet black second skin away from himself, but hadn’t been able to get any purchase on it with his covered fingertips. Looking back to the mirror, the only thing exposed was his face and shaved head. The young man grimaced, he’d never been one for hair styles, but cutting off his messy brown curls had been an unpleasent twist that he hadn’t expected when agreeing to this experiment. Glancing down in the mirror, he instinctively covered himself, the suit rendered him genderless at a glance, but it was still rather obvious after more than a passing glance.

“Casper?” Came a voice and the now telltale sound of robotic legs whirring and walking towards the room the human was stood in. He glanced back at his normal clothes, then at the mirror again.

“In here.” The young man called out. The sounds of the robotic legs go louder until he saw Wren appear in the mirror in the doorway to the room. She was atop her bipedal robotic platform that most geckins used around anyone larger than their single foot in height.

“They’re all ready for you. Last chance to run without anyone seeing.” The foot tall green geckin offered without emotion in her voice. Neither judging, nor leading him in a certain way. Casper suspected that she had her own horse in this race, but out of everyone who the young man had spoken to; she’d been the most warm.

“This is going to be fun.” Casper began, convincing himself as much as her as he turned and, whilst trying to ignore that he was very much on display to her, she matched his pace as he marched toward the hanger. Speed and stride wasn’t a problem for the geckin, at least not for their platforms. They could outrun Casper at the push of a button, completely ignoring they’d outlast him with the fusion cores that powered them.

“It’s certainly going to be interesting, but why would you use the word ‘fun’?” Wren asked calmly, keeping the conversation light, but still obviously monitoring the man. The small green geckin had become his doctor and psychologist of sorts. Carefully watching him and seemingly keeping the more extreme ‘Zeet’, the head engineer, in check.

“Well, we have media and fantasy stories about piloting mechs. Whole franchises that are built around the concept of bipedal or multi-legged technicals. Apparently, I’m living the dream, and I didn’t even need to train for it.” Casper shrugged, feeling oddly disconnected from the current events.

“You understand this is unlikely to be easy right?” The small green alien gently pointed out. A glance down at her and Casper noted how her neck ruffle was pulled tight against her. He gave her a wane smile and nodded.

“Oh yes, Zeet has explained at length that it’ll be like learning to walk again. Moving an arm or leg on its own, is its own thing. Even all four limbs is another level, but I’m going to be controlling a thirty-foot mech, dealing with its balance, its systems, everything.” Casper grinned and chuckled as they entered the hanger proper, and the noise went up significantly. Casper had to raise his voice somewhat to ensure Wren could hear him, she had to practically shout back at him.

“He made a big deal that I would struggle to balance it without a tail.” The human said with a smirk.

Wren grinned a sharp grin.

Taking a moment to look up at the giant machine, Casper could only be impressed.

The mech itself was a rough translation of a human body. Two legs, two arms, a torso and a head on top. They had toyed with the idea of a more mobile machine, with digitigrade legs or even giving him equipment for his first outing, but Wren had been present and argued them all down. In the end, it was her pointing out, not for Casper’s safety, but the cost of breaking or damaging complicated equipment if the first piloting effort failed.

No point in having a fancy jetpack if a panicked human trigged the jets and crashed into the ceiling, rending the bay unusable for the foreseeable future.

So as Casper gave the giant bipedal vehicle a critical eye, he noted that it was surprisingly thin. The legs were slim, several meters wide to a normal human, but compared to the rest of the mech it felt like they were too small to lift such bulk. Likewise, the arms were malnourished, obviously barebones. He could see pistons and wires. They were all strapped down and had metal plates protecting them in places, but this mech was not designed for anything other than an experiment.

A prototype. Saying their true mechs often looked like geckins; digitigrade legs for explosive speed and massive mechanical tails for balance. Casper had to guess that this was the first, truly humanoid machine they’d made… and only in the short space of time too.

Their industry capability was frightening.

“He was quite upset that he had to remove the tail section of the mech. No point in adding parts and complexity for the first step.” She pointed out, that wasn’t something Casper had heard yet. Interesting. The next time Casper spoke, it was to Zeet in the form of a short, sharp ‘good luck’ and nod.

“You look ready, like a real geckin pilot.” The blue geckin pointed out, gesturing to the skintight Nerve Suit from his position on his own mobile platform.

“Just a bit taller.” Casper grinned, but realised he made a faux par with the immediate frown form Zeet. “Sorry. Nerves. The suits pretty tight, I didn’t realise it would be like this.” The young quickly said, running a gloved hand over his stomach. Thankfully, this change in topic was enough to remove the dark look on the blue geckin’s face as they rejoined the conversation again. He had to remember that geckins were touchy about their height…

“Yes, well the Nerve Suit is needed to ensure the body has as little feedback from your true body as possible. It should be plenty light as it’s only a pawful of atoms thick.” Casper pulled a face and rubbed his fingertips together. He felt pressure, but not sensation other than how slick his grip was.

“You ready to climb in? Remember, we’re just calibrating. Remember; don’t be disappointed if you can’t run yet, all we’re looking for is movement. Wiggle the feet, twitch the fingers. Look up and down.” Zeet rambled, nervous all of a sudden at the prospect of the human experiment. He continued to run through a check list of basic movements.

“I understand Zeet, I’ll do my best for you.” Casper promised, unsure if he could reach out and touch the shoulder of the geckin, or if that would be too far. Was he supposed to be the nervous one? With everything going on with humanity, it seemed impossible that they would allow anything to happen to the young man. Like walking along a tourist bridge and it has a glass floor; this was all simulated danger, not real danger. Right? Casper turned to the mech itself and headed towards the team of technicians who were waiting for him. They were crowded around the open hatch where Casper would climb in like a pack of scavengers waiting for their prey to fall over.

The clamber into the pilot chamber wasn’t the issue, nor was the coffin-like pod that required Casper to lay down with his arms crossed over his chest, it was the needles. The pod pressed in on his legs, hips and shoulders, his arms were still free for the moment, but would be locked into place when the sarcophagus’s lid came down into place. The inside of the casket was filled with a gel that had given way by several inches as he sat down, then shuffled himself in. If he was struck by anything, or more likely; fell over, the gel would absorb the impact to his physical body. It would also swell, once he was sealed, securing him in place.

“Legs in place!” Called one of the techs as they fit a breather over Casper’s nose and mouth.

Then, after a moment, Casper was stabbed.

Along the various rivers and paths that followed his nervous system, hundreds of hair thin needles all stabbed into him like a wave of bee stings, causing the human to grunt and flinch. The shoulder locks stopped him from moving too much as the techs gave curt nods that all was well. Then a series of five needles thrust into and along the young man’s spine and he lost all feeling of his body.

His eyes snapping open and gasping at the sudden pain and of a fear that something had gone wrong! He couldn’t move!

Zeet appeared in his vision, next to two of the techs that were disconnecting tubes from the mech itself.

“You’re good. First disconnect from your nervous system is always the worst they say. We’re about to give up control on the mech, you’ll be in the dark for a few minutes, but that’s it. Blink twice if you understand.” Asked the blue geckin, staring down at the human. Without a voice, the young man, blinked twice.

“Outstanding, good human. Lets get this closed and submerge him. Casper? You’ll hear me over the radio. Follow my instructions. You’re going to be seeing the world from a whole new perspective.”

Casper tried to nod but was reminded again that he couldn’t move at all. He just laid there.

Flat on his back, from the perspective of a corpse in a grave, looking up at the techs and Zeet, as if they were mourners about to throw the first handfuls of dirt upon him.

Then the lid of his casket slid closed and sealed against him. He felt pressure on his body as the gel filled casket embraced him and then all was still. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see or hear. He couldn’t smell anything. His body wanted to twitch, to move and kick. But even when he tried to test the limits of the pod, of the gel, he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even tell if he was moving!

Panic was rather rapidly growing within his chest as he lay there, alone in a sensationless void.

Was this what death felt like?

“-asper? Casper can you hear me?” Zeet’s voice appeared in his head.

He tried to instinctively respond, to say ‘[Yes]’, but immediately felt and knew it was pointless, his [paralyzed throat and mouth meant talking was out].

“Excellent! We’ve got your feed here. You don’t need your throat anymore.” Came the excited reply.

[What?]

“You’re connected to the machine’s transponder. You talk, or try to talk like normal, and we will read you.” Zeet explained, Casper could hear the excitement in his voice.

[Is everything okay?]

“It’s going fantastic! We literally just turned this system on and you’re already communicating with us. You’re a natural, human! You ready for more systems?”

With nothing better to do, Casper thought of his reply.

[Sure, let’s do it.]

“Alright, give me a minute.”

It was a strange method to talk. Casper could… feel? The correct way to communicate. It wasn’t his unprocessed thoughts being transmitted. He could feel what he was sending to Zeet, like he was approving every syllable. What information the human wanted to send, was sent, and nothing more. There was no tone, no emotion. His words, thoughts, sentences, were words on a screen.

Light appeared, briefly blinding Casper, who squinted, and the hangar immediately came into focus. His head was drooped forward and for the most part he could only see the floor that had been directly in front of the mech itself. There were geckins down there all running to and fro. Focusing on one, Casper’s vision rapidly zoomed in and he could see each and every individual scale on the yellow geckin tech’s face, before Casper relaxed his eyes a fraction and his vision pulled out slightly. The geckin tech monitored a console that sat beneath the tower where Casper had entered, seemingly unaware he was being watched.

“Okay, we’ve turned on your external cameras. Do you feel any new sensations? Any sort of… connections that you can access?” Zeet asked carefully.

[I can see.]

“Yes, we want you to access those so you can see out of the cameras attached to the recon unit.”

[No Zeet, I can see. There’s a yellow geckin at my feet.]

“You can- Hoy! Who’s below us?” Zeet shouted, Casper could tell it was loud, but the radio wasn’t being ‘heard’ in the sense that the human wasn’t using his ‘ears’ to hear the radio. He was… understanding it without the need for such things.

As Casper watched, the yellow geckin reacted, looking up and waving his arms up at someone before shrugging.

“You’re right! You’ve already… Hah! Okay then. This is beyond what I was hoping for. I think we can jump a few steps.”

“Sir, this is ill-advised.” Wren voice said, coming over the radio loud and clear.

“You’re here as a courtesy doctor, you’re welcome, but now as a courtesy, you will not interfere with my work.”

[What’s happening?]

“We’re going to disconnect you from our power and control. You will have full control of the mech and its systems.”

[You said that was dangerous?]

“For a normal pilot yet. But your aptitude for this was off the charts. I think it’s time to jump a few levels.”

There was a flurry of activity as the geckins who were milling about at Casper’s feet suddenly began disconnecting from the various consoles and began disappearing from the edge of the human’s vision. He could see the metal platforms that counted as the mech’s feet, but aside from that and the bottom of the tower, there was just the hanger floor.

“Alright, we’ve got everyone to a safe distance. In a few seconds, we’re passing control of the whole mech to yourself. We won’t be in control of anything. You ready?”

[As I’ll ever be.]

“Good. Hand off in 3… 2… 1…”

The change was sudden and startling. Immediately, Casper’s legs buckled as his knees weren’t prepared to take the sudden weight of his body once more. His arms flung forward as the ground rushed up to greet him, but he stopped himself from bouncing his head off the concrete by completing a half press-up.

There was too much, too fast. His body felt, stiff; tight. Like he’d been in a cramped position for so long that his whole body was sluggish.

It was too much. Casper felt lightheaded, as if he was suffocating! His heart was pounding in his chest so fast that it was humming! A giant metal hand reached up and clutched at his metal torso, sparks flying as the two metals clashed against each other.

[Something’s wrong!]

“It’s fine, just activate your intakes.” Zeet ordered calmly, despite the panic rising.

“He’s panicking, eject him.”

“No, he just needs to start up the intakes. Casper? Your reactor needs air flow, active the intakes.”

“Power it down Zeet! His vitals are spiking.”

[I don’t. I can’t. My chest feels tight!]

The human was panicking, he could feel something was wrong, like he was running on empty, like he needed to close his eyes and lay down. It felt like he was dying.

“Casper! Batteries are running low, active the intakes!”

The words were less clear now, like his mind was swimming. The young man felt for the first time since getting into the machine his vision failed, like he was blinking despite not needing to before now.

Wren’s voice broke through the roaring and nonsense that Casper was being bombarded by.

“Breathe Casper! Take a breath!”

The human sucked in air as deeply as he could shocked that he had forgotten such a normal thing.

From outside, the vents that lined the pectoral area of the mech slammed open with great turbines that sucked in the vital oxygen needed for the reactor that sat in the centre of the mech’s chest. It burped to life and the exhausts along the back of the machine began to spew heat and a cough of black smoke. To the geckin engineers, the ever-pleasant noise of a system booting up to full power whined to life as the human mech heaved in an oddly biological movement.

There were no ‘lungs’ built into the machine, only vents, fans, and a reactor to power it all, but the way it was gyrating, put only the image of someone who had been suffocating gulping in air into their minds. The mech was currently on one knee, the other leg folded to support its weight. One arm was placed on the ground and the second was still touching the chest plate, scratching the bare, unpainted metal.

[I’m okay.]

“’Breathe’ doctor?” Snapped Zeet, not addressing or not seeing the text on his console that Casper had sent.

“He’s not trained on the technical specifications of a machine. His point of reference is what he can feel. What he knows.” Replied Wren, defensively, but not backing down.

“He said they had media of mechs, that it was a common fantasy. What popular media doesn’t have common sense specs?!” Barked Zeet’s voice.

“He’s not a geckin, he’s human. The importance of certain subject will be different.” She replied, still sturdy in her observation.

The voices in Casper’s head continued to bicker as the world stopped swimming and he slowly raised his head to look around. He felt less sluggish now, like he had started to shake the cobwebs from his bones and movement was easier, as if he was awake again. He felt strong. Fast. As if his body not just wouldn’t fail him; but couldn’t.

== 0 ==

To the outside, whilst Zeet and Wren continued to argue the toss, the techs watched as the giant mech’s recon unit raised up and scanned the hanger. With a great heave, one of the legs raised the body up in a single smooth movement before the second leg straightened and held the giant mech upright and proud.

The mechanical hands, simple things, were raised as the cameras of the recon unit that sat atop the mech inspected them, as if seeing them for the first time. This was more than any of the techs had expected. New pilots barely got their radios working after the first hour, let alone movement. Why was it so… biological in its movements?

“Sir?” Called the head technician, up at the two geckins that were still arguing over utilizing the correct terminology in a professional setting and pointedly ignoring the several hundred-ton mech that was now moving around in a manner that was thought impossible for the timeline.

The mech took a single step forward, then a second.

“Sir?!” Shouted the head tech again, more urgently now.

Thankfully, Zeet and the good doctor paused their debate to look round, only to realize the mech was no longer where they left it.

It was currently headed towards the great metal shutter that blocked the outside world from the hanger. Beyond the shutter was the proving grounds, where pilots that had finally fully integrated with their mechs would prove that they were ready for furthering the geckin interests.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lizard #mecha

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nils-gold-34 · 21 days ago

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Golden Rhythm – A Day in Flow

The dorm was quiet when Nils opened his eyes. No alarm. No command. Just instinct.

His body knew the rhythm by now: wake before the gold, move before the noise, serve before being seen.

He slid out of bed, toes meeting cool tile. The light overhead was still soft—amber, dim.

His kit was folded at the edge of his bunk: shimmering compression shorts, a sleeveless gold shirt, hydration band coiled neatly beside his towel. Everything in order. Everything in place.

Franco was already waiting on the field.

Golden jersey gleaming in the morning sun, brown hair damp from a warm-up jog, he grinned as Nils approached.

“You made it, waterboy.”

“You’re early,” Nils said flatly.

They started without another word—jogging the outer pitch, breath syncing.

The sky lit slowly above them, gold seeping into cloud. Franco’s strides were explosive, wide. Nils ran tighter, coiled, precise. They circled twice, then three times. Sprint sets. Stretch drills. Core circuits to finish. Their sweat hit the turf in rhythm. A match with no scoreboard—just motion, just effort.

At 07:00 sharp, they bumped fists and split.

Franco peeled off toward the weight room.

Nils returned to his real zone of play—the undercurrent that kept the team alive.

He rolled the laundry cart into the locker room like a silent sentry.

The scent hit first—sweat, turf, adrenaline steeped into golden fabric.

Every shirt held a memory. Every sock, a trace of yesterday’s glory.

Nils handled them like relics, sorting by squad, by use, by position. Starters first. Then subs. Then bench.

The machines were already humming. He prepped each load by hand: detergent measured, golden-tinted. Steam hissed as the first drum sealed.

There was something sacred in the rhythm. No cheering. No lights. Just precision. Just discipline.

Franco’s cleats sat in the corner—mud-streaked, worn raw from last night’s finish.

“Third time this week,” Nils murmured.

Still, he bent down, cloth in hand.

He scrubbed them clean.

The shine mattered.

At noon, he found Franco in the strategy room.

The midfielder sprawled across two chairs, scrolling drill footage on the big screen.

“You ready to write a masterpiece?” Franco asked.

“You mean clean up your chaos,” Nils replied.

Franco tossed him a protein bar. Nils caught it without looking.

Together, they built the next training cycle.

Franco spoke in bursts—movement patterns, wing play, pressure breaks.

Nils translated chaos into control: hydration intervals, timing windows, energy spikes, fallback markers.

Every suggestion tested in the sim.

Together, they carved order from momentum.

Two hours passed like water.

“You ever miss playing?” Franco asked suddenly, between drills.

Nils didn’t blink. “No. I never stopped serving.”

Franco didn’t push.

By evening, the locker room pulsed with music and laughter.

The field was still hot from the day’s drills, but the fire pit by the gym burned brighter.

Golden flames licked the sky.

The grill sizzled under Franco’s hands. Shirtless, still buzzing with energy, he flipped burgers with absurd flair.

Nils stood nearby, quietly restocking the cooler—drinks arranged by electrolyte density, protein levels, carbonation tolerance.

It was loud. Messy. Alive.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” Franco called.

“I manage inventory,” Nils replied.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Nils passed him a wrap—golden foil, seared chicken, perfect balance.

Franco took a bite, then smirked.

“Y’know… you make this whole machine run, bro.”

“Not alone.”

“Still. Team needs you.” Franco paused. His voice dropped. “I need you.”

Nils didn’t answer.

He turned, eyes scanning the field—chalk lines still crisp. Laundry hung on racks, drying under the stars.

Drones in formation began cool-down laps. Bros laughing around the fire, cleats off, feet in the grass.

He took a breath.

The night hummed with gold.

Another day complete.

Another step in the rhythm.

He didn’t need to shine.

He just needed to keep it flowing.

Gold runs deeper than the pitch.

You feel it in your hands, in your breath, in your work.

The Army needs flow.

Be part of it cotact our recruiters:

@brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 @polo-drone-125

To read Francos POV make sure to follow him @franco-gold94

#Golden Army #GoldenArmy #Golden Team #theGoldenteam #AI generated #jockification #male TF #male transformation #hypnotized #hypnotised #soccer tf #Gold #Join the golden team #Golden Opportunities #Golden Brotherhood #GoldDay

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akane171 · 1 year ago

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I've searched for Easy Company in Hell's Highway - so you don't have too.

Hell's Highway: A Chronicle of the 101st Airborne in the Holland Campaign, September-November 1944 by George Koskimaki

Just before the jump: “Colonel Sink, who was in plane#1, had been looking out of the door when something shook the plane and he saw a part of the wing whip loose and dangle in the breeze. He turned and said: ‘Well, there goes the wing.’ But nobody seemed to think much about it as they figured by now they were practically ‘in’ it”.

The Son bridge. Oh, look who is here: “A few minutes after the first groups headed on their missions, a Dutchman approached 1Lt. NORMAN DIKE, the assistant S-2 for the regiment and informed him that the two auxiliary bridges had been blown by the Germans several days earlier”.

Eindhoven. T/4 Donald G. Malarkey’s recollection of the advance by the 2nd Battalion is as follows: “We came into the city from the northeast with scattered resistance but rounded up a lot of prisoners on tips from the Dutch people. In fact, at one time, we had so many men going after holed-up Germans that we had to stop following their leads.”

Easy’s 1Lt. Robert Brewer being wounded. Hewas ordered by Capt. Clarence Hester (S-3 for the 2nd Battalion) to flank some Germans. He questioned with his poor French the school kids who asked their parents in Dutch and then translate it to French again about German positions (what a comedy, lol). He’s learnt Germans were sitting in some orchard. As he said, he had a little time to study the route, so he had map and bincons out as they were approaching.

“At the moment I was hit. A round entered my right jaw and exited my left neck. Both holes, just below the third molar from the back, spouted blood immediately and blood flowed from my mouth like a fountain. I knew I was going into shock. (…) I heard one of my men yell ‘Lieutenant Brewer’s dead! Get going to those trees ahead!’ and I remembered feeling good about that order. Someone was taking over.”

Sgt. Al Mampre (surgeon from 2nd Battalion) was the one who patched him along with Pvt. Holland (from E). “I was in the process of administering plasma to Brewer, which was very difficult because his veins had collapsed, when we were fired. Holland shouted that he was hit in the heel and scooted back to E Company in the ditch. Dirt was kicking up around and I heard the sharp crack and thought the plasma bottle was shattered. I looked up and found it intact in my hand, so I lay down beside Brewer. He was yellow in colour and not moving at all. In my best bedside manner, I said to Brewer ‘Are you dead? If so, I’m getting out of here!’ He croaked back , barely audible and just understandable ‘No, but I don’t know why not.’ I said ‘Good, I’ll stay with you”.

Right after he was wounded too. Three Easy men came to help them but they were shot. In the end they were saved and taken to safety by some Dutchmen.

The 2nd battalion was sent to Helmond. Lipton: “When we got there it was seen that we were over-extended and outgunned, so after a forced march of several hours, we were immediately marched back toward Eindhoven.”

Generally speaking, there were a LOT of enemy tanks and they were fucked.

Don Malarkey: “We joined British tanks to attack toward Helmond where major German forces were reported. The German panzers and infantry had set up a semi-circle defence ,well concealed, on the west fringe of the city. The British tanks on the flanks and the 101st infantry were allowed to penetrate deep into the throat of the positions before the Germans opened up. We were well in front when all hell broke loose. We had several people hit – our platoon leader, Lt. “Buck” Compton, the worst. He took machine gun blast through the butt as we were told to pull back to Eindhoven. Compton, who had been a guard on the UCLA football team, was too big for a couple of people to move. He wanted to be left for the Germans and told us to get the hell out of there. However, we tore a door off a Dutch farmhouse, rolled him on it, and four of us dragged him up to the ditch along the road until we got him back to where he could get him on a British vehicle.”

Highway between Veghel and Uden

When the Germans cut the highway between Veghel and Uden, part of E Company was in Uden with Colonel Chase and Regimental HQ. Captain Winters and 1/Sgt. CLIFFORD Lipton (I always forget this was his first name XD) were part of the advanced element. Sgt. Don Malarkey, a member of S/Sg. Bill Guarnere’s platoon, was caught in Veghel during the heavy shelling.

He said “The E Company members wondered about Winters and the rest of Company. The size and depth of the attack was so heavy we thought the rest of the company on the Uden side of the block would be wiped out as we assumed the enemy force had also sent a column to the north. Captain Winters, in Uden, thought a similar fate had befallen us. He had positioned the rest of the company near a street intersection in shop buildings on the south side of the town waiting for the German tanks turn to the north. They had been able to view the assault on Veghel from a towering church steeple located near their position. Winters thought Veghel might be overrun so he discussed the possibility with the remaining elements of the company. Winters then decided they would make their stand, even if it was their last. Although the next 24 hours were tense, the Germans forces were routed and a last ditch defence of Uden did not have to be made”

Lipton recollected: “We set up a defensive plan and set booby traps and kept up fire from different positions so the Krauts would think we were a large force. Some British were there, too. Captain Winters told me to organize as many men I could find into one defensive position. I tried to manhandle one Britisher into the defence when he seemed to be reluctant and he stopped me short by pointing out that he was a major and not accustomed of being ordered by a first sergeant – even American.” – that’s our mama Lipton, people xD

St. Oedenrode

Lipton remembered how they were sent to find main Germans body. They were in a spread formation and were fired on in the middle of large open field. “We hit the ground, which was slightly rolling, and gave some cover to the men. I heard Bill Guarnere yelling and setting ip the 2nd Platoon machineguns and mortar in the middle of the area to fire on the woods. The tank fire was skipping right over me so I crawled for the woods we had just left when suddenly I saw someone standing right by me. I looked up and It was captain Winters, trying to pinpoint where the Kraut fire was coming from. Feeling somewhat foolish, I stood up and together we tried to evaluate the situation.”

Behind Americans, were Sherman tanks manned by British troops.

Lip continued: “The tanks could see the German positions and three of their tanks on the far side of the field, we yelled to our tanks to come up to fire on them. The British lead tank left the road and came forward through the trees.”

They yelled to the British tanks the Germans were right across the field, but for some reason the Shermans continued to move forward to open field.

Lip: “Within 15 seconds, a 76 mm shell from one of the German Panther tanks slammed into the British tank, hitting the shield around its 75mm gun and deflected up without penetrating it. When it hit, I was standing right by the tank and I must have jumped six feet and dove for cover in a ditch. I knew there would be more shells right away. They weren’t long in coming. The second shell came about 15 to 20 seconds later. The Sherman was open throttle in reverse to back into the woods again but it was too late. That second shell hit below the 75mm gun shield and penetrated the armour. The tank’s commander hands were blown off and he was trying to get out of the hatch using his arms when the third shell hit the tank, blowing him out and killing him and setting the tank on fire. It burned all night with its ammo exploding intervals.”

The same situation from Don’s perspective: “We had five tanks attached to us. We got the tank commander and took him to a sandy knoll where the Tiger could be seen clearly through a small opening in the trees. He brought a tank up, spun the tracks into the knoll so they could lower the 75mm cannon enough to get on the turret of the Tiger."

"When that was accomplished he suddenly decided he didn’t want to fire from that position because he would only get one shot and, if he missed, the Tiger would take him. About a hundred yards to the south there was a finger-sized trip of 25-foot tall pine trees. The strip was about 40 yards wide and ran for a distance of 200 yards. The tank commander decided to line his five tanks behind the trees and move through them together with all the Shermans opening fire from the edge of the pine trees prior to breaking out into the sandy field.”

“The 2nd Platoon spaced themselves between the tanks moving through them assaulting across the field to the Veghel road. (…) The Tiger, in rapid succession, poured 88mm shells into the woods, knocking all five tanks out in a minute or so. We were able to pull some of the crew members out of the tanks. Several were on fire and we threw sand and blankets in them to douse the flames. When the first machine gun fire rattled, our new platoon leader stuck his head in the sand and so ended his career with the 101st.”

“Platoon sergeant Bill Guarnere and squad leader Joe Toye controlled the men and completed the crossing. I had the mortar squad and was busy getting fire on a German machine gun position. Once the Shermans were knocked out, the Tiger jauntily pulled out. Its machine guns were of no use as they were below the crown of the road, which was fortunate for 2nd Platoon.”

Lipton concluded: “We set up a defensive position for the night and Captain Winters told us that he would personally see that anyone who knocked out one of the German tanks that night would get a silver star. We couldn’t find them, however, and the next morning when we attacked the German positions, we found they had all withdrawn.”

Meanwhile:

When General Tylor was wounded, after picking himself from the ground he said: “The sonsabitches got me in the ass!”

It was also mentioned when Major Oliver Horton was killed by a shrapnel as he approached the railroad station near Opheusden in the midst of the heavy fighting in the morning of October 5th. I got an impression from the book that he was really liked among the soldiers.

Operation Pegasus

Screaming Eagles were aided by British airborne engineers and Dutch underground members – jfyi.

E Company men were in the most suitable position on the line, that’s why they got the job.

David ‘Mad Colonel of Arnhem’ Dobey was absolutely fucking mad: wounded, taken a prisoner, escaped from hospital, contacted the Dutch underground, crawled the German lines at night and swam across the Neder Rijn to reach allies.

Malarkey: “In mid-October I was taken to Division HQ by my company commander, 1Lt. Fred Heyliger, for a meeting with G-2, the purpose unknown. We were escorted into a room that contained large wall maps and aerial photos. There were several British officers, together with our G-2 personnel, Lt. Heyliger and myself.”

“At the time of the meeting, I was the sergeant of 2nd platoon, having succeeded Bill Guarnere, who had been injured. Part of our platoon responsibility during the period included the night-time out-posting of an orchard and complex of farm buildings on the bank of Rhine, due north of the island village of Randwijk. It was one of the few areas the Division occupied that had Rhine River concealment. I was asked if mall British assault boats could be concealed in the orchard, so as not to be visible by the Germans across the Rhine of from the air. Also needed information on whether these boats could be brought in one night and used the following night. I responded to both questions in the affirmative and explained that there was a deep, high water overflown ditch that circled the south edge of the orchard. It was 6 to 7 feet deep and 8 to 10 feet across. The bordering fruit trees spanned the ditch with their limbs, blocking visibility from the air.”

“Following the preliminary discussion, a somewhat dishevelled red-bearder British colonel was brought into the room and introduced. It was explained that he had worked his way through German lines and swam the Rhine the night before into the Division sector. He related that he had been working with and aided by the Dutch underground. They had a plan to effect the escape of as many as 140 allied soldiers, mostly British paratroopers, from German territory west of Arnhem. He laid out a detailed and elaborate plan that was to culminate in a river crossing through the 2nd Platoon sector a week later.”

“Dobey stated that all the troops were secreted in various Dutch homes, barns and buildings, some as far as fifteen miles from the projected crossing point. They would move each night toward the Rhine, led primarily by Dutch women. The line of direction was to be identified by firing each night, at midnight, of ten rounds from British 40mm gun from atop the dike, across the orchard, into the high ground west of Arnhem. The British assault boats would be placed in the orchard ditch the night before the crossing, which would occur at 0100 hours, the following night signalled by a flashing red light. Two men from 2nd Platoon, with rifles and tommy guns, would ride in each boat in the event German opposition was encountered.”

The following Monday night was set as the rescue attempt. Further precautions called for a machine gunners and riflemen from the 3rd Platoon to be positioned both east and west of the orchard on the banks of the Rhine for additional supporting fire. Two machine gun teams would accompany the rescue craft and set up position on both flanks on the enemy side of the river, to ward off any German troops who might rush forward to interfere with the landing operation.

Don: “All personnel were to be positioned in the orchard before midnight, at which time the Bofors gun would be fired for the final time. Following this, a corps of British artillery would blast the high ground west of Arnhem with incendiaries which would provide background light for the boast making the crossing. Then they were to be abandoned on the bank of the Rhine.”

“Colonel Dobey was asked how many soldiers could be oved in weeks’ period, to a specific assembly point. He stated it would be done by Dutch women travelling at night by bicycle. German forces were apparently not very suspicious of the Dutch women. Driving to our company area, I remarked to Lt. Heyliger that the plan seemed almost too perfect to have a chance. He said the British were exceptionally resourceful when they were concerned.”

Cpl. Walter S. Gordon was one of the machine gunners involved in the flank operation: “One day while positioned on the bank, 1Lt. Fred Heyliger called a company formation and asked, or rather stated, he needed men to accompany him on some sort of mission. I don’t recall him asking for my volunteers but rather pointed to a number of us and that was that. He required two machine guns and a number of riflemen. PFC Francis J. Mellet was designated as one of the gunners and I was selected as the other. I recall we were later transported to a rear area and introduced to the canvas boats which were part of the British equipment. They were fragile and had plywood-like bottoms. We were asked to familiarize ourselves with the operation of the boats by paddling about on a small pond.”

48 hours before the operation the Dutch informed Dobey that Germans had ordered all able-bodied men in the village to report Monday morning to dig defences. For the British and Americans to appear for this detail would mean almost certain discovery and capture. Dobey decided to set the rescue ahead 24 hours.

Malarkey: “So far, all the pieces of the British colonel’s puzzle had fallen into place. ”

“At about 0100, Ed Joint who was with me on the boats, and I were sitting with our backs against a tree on the edge of the orchard, looking intently across the Rhine. Ed remarked that he did not see how everything could work without a hitch. I said he might be right. About two minutes later, Joint said ‘Look Sarge, a light!’ The red light was flashing as planned. I yelled at the crew and we shoved the boat into water. We were the first boat to cross.”

“I was in the bow with my tommy gun, fully expecting that some kind of opposition would be encountered. I was crouched down, so that my eyes could see over the bow. The fires in the distance provided a good background for any silhouette that appeared. About ten yards from the north bank of the rhine, I saw figures milling in the water and above them, a huddled group. I jumped in the river and met a British sergeant. I told him we would take ten men in each boat that was to be in the crossing.”

Sink: “Heyliger was in charge of fanning out his troops after he reached the other side, gathering in the fold, or inside the box, these people that were over there, corralling them toward the boats, putting them abroad, getting them back across the water, then gathering his men and getting them back, also.”

Cpl. Walter Gordon: “The idea was to establish two lateral outposts flanking the route which was to be used by the men rescued. The machine gun I manned was set up and rifle-men were stationed nearby. We lay there quietly and guarded the front which had been assigned to us. I do not recall how long we were posted but eventually we were summoned back to the boats which had transported us over the river.”

Malarkey: “I brought ten paratroopers in my boat. The most interesting one was a sergeant from the British 7th Armoured Division, who had escaped from German prison camp. He said, ‘Sarge, I’m all through. My wife has been a widow five times now, and she is not going to be again. He was from the famed ‘Rats of Tobruk’ and had been reported MIA several times in Africa and for the last time on the continent”

Cpl. Walter Gordon: “In spite of the fact we had been admonished to be quiet, we did a bit zealous on our return and paddled like demons. Each time a paddle made contact with the wood frame of the boat, it had the sound of a kettle drum. I was astonished that we were not heard in Berlin. Not a shot was fired.”

Malarkey: “The next morning all hell broke loose at the orchard and the bank of the Rhine as heavy German artillery devastated much of the orchard, buildings and all of the boats.”

And there is a nice memory of Sergeant Taylor from F Company about Strayer.

Taylor and a few other soldiers were on a patrol that went bad, they ended in the water on cold day and when they rerurned to the S-2 Battalion: “Gosh, it was cold riding back in the jeep as we were soaking wet. Colonel Strayer was back there. He gave us a cup of coffee and I think it was the best cup of coffee I ever had in my life. We were told to take off our wet clothes. Strayer threw a blanket around us.”

And that’s all about Easy and other familiar faces but there are some memories of other paratroopers that caught my attention:

Before jumping. “Pvt. C.D. Kreider had a feeling of impending doom. Sgt. C.D. Edgar related: Kreider gave me his watch and wedding band and told me to send them home to his wife as he was not going to make it. I told him: If you don’t make it, I’ll be with you and I won’t make it either. Kreider responded: Sarge – you are too mean to die!” It seems he was indeed too mean to die, because he survived the war xD

It was never mentioned in BOB, but a lot paratroopers came by gliders. Cpl. Michael J. Friel, medic for the 327th Glider Infantry Regiment, was in the co-pilot’s seat of Hillyard’s glider. He wrote: The pilot gave me instructions on how to land a glider in case he, the pilot, was disabled. This lesson occurred while the fight to Holland…

In Eindhoven, memories of Bert Pulles, a young Dutchman. He noticed soldiers passing by and asked ‘Are you English?’ Someone said: ‘No, we are Americans!’ My answers was ‘Even better!’. “I was so excited that I did not notice anything – just so happy to see American paratroopers that I could talk to. I am sure that I never noticed their ranks, if they had any, I just saw 12 or 15 young ‘gods’ who came to liberate us. The only thing I noticed was the proudly-worn Screaming Eagle patch on their left shoulder – a badge I will never forget”.

Cpl. Pete Santini: “Pvt. Floyd Ankeny, a man who has been in the company almost since its beginning, gave his foxhole to one of the new men who had never been under fire before and calmly began to dig himself another hole. I questioned him later and asked him why he did it. His answer was: I thought the new man was a little frightened.” Who wasn’t?!”

Veghel

Cpl. Chester E. Otsby: “I felt a tug on my leg and there was a little boy with a red wagon. He was trying to tell me to put my radio in the wagon and he’d pull it alongside. I was trying to tell him as the best I could that I had to carry the radio. All of sudden it dawned on me that since the radio was broken what the heck,, it wasn’t doing an good on my back so I obliged him by putting it in his little agon and we marched along. He was about the happiest little Dutch boy in entire country”.

Eerde

Pvt. Jesse Garcia, form G Company: “We were dug around a perimeter and I was short distance from the captain Kraeger. Evidently I was dug in too deep. I didn’t hear him calling me. He crawled out of his foxhole and looked down in my position. I remember looking up and seeing the captain. He said: Garcia, if you dig that foxhole deeper, I’ll consider you AWOL!”

Another memory of that Captain. Pvt. Garcia accompanied him to the HQ, where the Captain talk to Colonel Ewell and Colonel Griswold. They came under a fire. Garcia wrote: “I don’t know if we were spotted by a few Krauts or not but they opened small arms fire. I hit the ground immediately. Neither Captain Kraeger or the Colonels ever flinched or jumped. I remember Colonel Ewell saying in his southern twang ‘Well, I guess we better take cover.’ They were real men in combat.”

PFC Monaghan: “Warren Reudy and I were down in a very small ditch when a shell exploded so close it covered us with dirt. After seeing that neither of us was hurt, I looked up and there on the road, just as calm as could be with not care in the world, was Captain Kraeger. I said ‘Hey, Captain, when are we going to get out of this mess?’ He replied very calmly ‘Don’t worry Monoghan, I got you in and I will get you out’. Well, that was all I needed, and he did get us out. He was one of the greatest leaders I ever met.”

And now, my fave story form the entire book:

Sergeant James E. Breier and the most hilarious action during whole Market Garden. He and a few other soldiers were on a patrol and noticed Germans waving a white flag, like they wanted to surrender. The Americans approached them to realize that the flag only appeared in the sun as white, but was orange in reality. They were taken prisoners but… they started to argue that the Germans were the prisoners not them xD Breier even argued with a German lieutenant xD He was even warned they were going to shoot him, if he would not shut up. The best thing? He bitched so hard, the Germans finally decided he came to them voluntarily and was not really a POW. So the next day, they took him to American lines and let him free xD

Conclusion of the whole Market Garden operation:

„The cost had been high again, just as in Normandy where 1,098 had been listed as killed. The KIA’s numbered more than 858 in Holland, 2,151 were listed as wounded and 398 were counted as missing or captured during the campaign.”

It's a very good book and if you are a fan of military non-fiction and memories of soldiers - highly recommended.

I've also read book 1 -> here.

#band of brothers #Easy company #screaming eagles #101st #my shit #bob #market garden #WWII

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eruhamster · 11 days ago

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Did you read the revised edition of tgcf? If so, what did you think of the changes? I like your analysis posts a lot, so I feel like your perspective on this would be interesting to know.

I still need to get around to reading the fan translation I saw someone finally doing. I only speak English and wasn't interested in machine translation so I don't really have an official one to go by.

I will say, though, my thoughts and memory of TGCF are fairly warped because I read the original in tandem with the snippets of the revised edition that someone did. So I really missed out on a lot of stuff regarding Little Pei and Pei Ming's sword because the way I was jumping between the official version and the revised version ended up with me not seeing very much of them.

What I have read of the revision, I like it.

I do really want to read the full thing because XL's relationship with LQQ REALLY needed to be explored more and I really enjoy the idea that rather than always being such a perfect boy, he was originally sickly and plagued with nightmares because of QR. It gives the story more flow instead of QR just coming out of nowhere and creating this murder plot with LQQ's friend. I saw people thinking that the change from XL killing LQQ's dad on purpose to just chopping all the bodies to bits (iirc that's the change that happened) made XL soft, but I don't think so. Number one, mutilating bodies isn't a soft thing, number two, deciding to kill one guy for the betterment of his people I feel sort of muddies the water about the greater plot. XL doesn't kill anymore, full stop - why would that be the last man he decides to end? It doesn't really feel like a satisfying change of behavior.

But having the entire plot be about the ghosts of people who've been wronged and how he tries to take on their grief and handle them similar to Jun Wu attempting to handle the never-ending grief of the ghosts that circulate the Kiln - I think that serves a greater purpose and fits with the larger story.

Additionally, with the realization I had that Jun Wu may be able to actually control the kiln and purposefully creates the supremes he does for specific reasons - using Hua Cheng as a scapegoat for ghostly issues and to indirectly assist in helping all these vengeful ghosts move on, using He Xuan as a tool if Shi Wudu or Qingxuan were to ever get too big (which they did, and which he does with other ghosts for just about every other god, and is implied to have been doing it for a long time ala his giant spiritual weapon collection), and trying to force Xie Lian to be exactly like him... It makes narrative sense then why Qi Rong would be considered "almost-supreme" over and over. It would then be implied that JW may have intended for him to become a supreme to use as leverage if LQQ were to ever become too powerful as a god, but then decided against it when XL showed up and stepped in to be the bad guy instead(I'm aware MXTX said something like how JW lost contact with XL and wasn't aware of the state preceptor stuff until reveal but tbh.. death of the author in this case). I think that nicely fits into the narrative too. And in turn XL is MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH more vicious toward QR to make up for this supposed 'softness' people criticized. He beat the shit out of QR first chance he got in the scene in the crypt and didn't even try to be nice to him. Plus that crypt scene also served to show that even now, the Xianle ghosts are still unappeased and pissed at XL, which again narratively ties him closer to JW who still grapples with the vengeful ghosts of his own people.

THOUGH it's sort of sad that we miss out on QR desecrating XL's mama's corpse. Because I felt the reason why he did that was because he was mixing his ashes in with hers so he could be a cockroach that would never ever ever go away unless XL decided to scatter his mom's ashes. I'm not sure how many other people picked up on that but I'm 98% sure that's why he was fucking around with her corpse, especially since everyone laments that no one knows where tf his ashes are.

I also like the idea of Ling Wen actually being responsible for the creation of the Broccade Immortal. Iirc that was one of the other changes; that in the original, she didn't actually kill him, but in the revision, she did. I think it's a more satisfying parallel. We have many, many parallels to Hualian in the story. Beefleaf are a complete inversion ala stealing each others' luck and being doomed, but we also get a resentful nonromantic obsession of QR to LQQ(esp in the revision), the warped obsession of XJ to PM who has full indifference and is instead obsessed with someone who is both a god and a ghost ala YH, Little Pei as a god being so devoted to the ghost Banyue, the undevoted immortal MN and his regrets toward how he abandoned the ghost-god JW, the god QYZ who is obsessed with the uninterested YY, the god FX and the ghost JL who do love each other unconditionally 800 years later but who both lack hualian's complete lack of hesitation about acceptance and being accepted and thus can't work out, etc etc etc etc etc - A god who willingly tossed her devoted loved one away like trash for her own gains only for him to continue to devote himself to her fits in very well with the rest of the foils. All sorts of situations so similar to hualian that go wrong because at least one character does not have the same devotion to climb all the mountains. And yet it says something that Bai Jing(cant shorten this one LOL) still loves her unconditionally for being the one person to ever show him any sort of kindness. A very similar love to HC's, which is why he lets HC wear him; they respect each other. And it puts him at odds with He Xuan, where the love is there but the ability to forgive is not, even though SQX was far more deserving of forgiveness than LW.

What else... I really like the pleasure boat. I forget that it's not in the original a lot LOL. It further pushes HC's connections to prostitution (as do the dancing pink skeletons) so I wonder if his mama may have been a prostitute. I go back and forth about her origins a lot. He's supposedly got two older brothers (thus the name San Lang, third son) who were likely sons of the woman that abused him that wasn't his mom, so either his dad had two wives (a main wife and the secondary wife ala the dishu system), or he impregnated a prostitute and took in her kid, or he had her as a concubine. If the intention is that he was from a different culture sort of like Banyue, and that's where all the silver and the imagery attached to him comes from, I could imagine that the intention is that his mom ended up like JL; where she was someone from a different culture that was conquered and she then fell into prostitution, and HC lets her culture live on in himself. If that's the case I think that adds an extra layer to his implied respectful relationship with JL (and other ghost prostitutes). Maybe it wasn't just about her being XL's other final follower. Maybe he saw his mom in her, and Cuocuo in himself. :( After all, Cuocuo is so ugly and malformed and evil, and yet she still loves and looks for her child, even 800 years postmortem.

OH, and I really, really liked the inclusion of all temples having a Xie Lian-shaped threshold. He was never truly a forgotten god! He was in every single temple! To worship any god, you must go through him! Even if you're stepping on him and washing your sins on him, the fact that he's there every time is just so *chef's kiss*.

I also really don't mind the kid being tossed out. He was a nothingburger character, disappears offscreen to be eaten by JW for no real reason. He didn't serve any real purpose and didn't really add anything to the narrative that wasn't best served elsewhere so he was better off gone. He doesn't even really make sense. No mention of him at all in the backstory of Yong'an. The king of Yong'an has a nephew that is literally so close to him to be named after him, and yet he makes no mention at all of him and fucks off to Xianle without him? Where are the kid's parents? Why did he get the face disease if it's a matter of Yong'an spirits taking out vengeance on the Xianle? Or was the idea that somehow some of the Xianle spirits got free and infested him when XL nearly caused that 2nd plague?? It doesn't make any sense, it works best to completely cut him out.

I can't think of anything else off the top of my head. I do really really really need to read the full revision though. I just keep putting it off and forgetting about it.

EDIT: Going on with the LQQ thing, I think you can also extrapolate from it the crucial difference between JW and XL. JW sees himself in XL and sees potential in him to help JW's vengeful spirits move on, and instead just drags him down to his level and puts him in the same situation he's in. XL sees himself in LQQ but does NOT want him to be like him. He shows him how to help his people's vengeful spirits move on. He helps him be better than him and does everything he possibly can to ensure LQQ does not fall into his bad traits, like refusing to teach LQQ that self-sacrificial move that he wants to know so badly. He wants LQQ to be BETTER and to forget about him. He laughs and says 'very good!' when LQQ declares he'll never be like XL, and takes pride in just how much a 'good boy' LQQ is, even if its naivety - XL wishes he could be naive again, too. A truly good master. I think him allowing himself to be LQQ's fallguy and letting LQQ do all that to him means more about who he is in comparison to JW than it being about killing LQQ's father to save his people.

#tgcf #tgcf spoilers #tgcf revision

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firewolf-pyro · 1 year ago

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4. ICE PLANET

Miles away from the twin peaks lies a half buried science building with a large futuristic plow pushing snow off of a runway to the left of the entrance. The front of the building is short, shaped like a half oval with big black windows on either side of the double doors. People are walking around the front of the building in full winter gear going too and from carrying boxes and crates with sample markers on them. This was the local science facility.

Anis, a tall spindly woman dressed from head to toe in a bright orange snow suit, strode towards the facility clutching a briefcase to her side. The wind was blowing snow around her and threatened to rip the briefcase away from her side even as the Siamese cat-faced lady made her way into the temperature controlled entryway of the facility. Once she was inside she stripped down to her suit and trousers, a brilliant red dress shirt paired perfectly with some slim black leggings. A bit chilly for where she worked but it was a statement she desired to make.

“Ood, come here and take this to my office, the file on the top there, take that down to the head of bioengineering. Thank you~” Anis hands the folder off to an ood dressed in the usual clothing, a dark navy blue jumpsuit. She gives a catty smirk before turning away from them. Her confidence in her research, her work environment was intense.

Anis turns away to follow the ood down the crowded main hallway down a flight of stairs. They are passed by my people in red and orange body suits. The ood heads down a few levels and crosses the white empty hallways to a steel door. They bring their translator to the keycard reader to get it open. Behind the doors stood Lesly, a short middle aged man with short brown hair and stubble. He has pudgy features and is dressed in blue and white plaid button up and jeans.

“Man. That is some serious mutation.” Lesly grumbles as he stairs into a powerful looking microscope. The lab around him is a large circular room with a desk at the center, shelves and counters around the walls and bright orange tubs with sample labels on them sat around in the walkways. There are papers and scientific journals set around the room with fridges sat on the counter. The area seems to be set up to look over liquid samples of microbiology. The ood sets the bright red folder down beside the microscope Lesly was looking through.

“Doctor Anis asked me to bring this to you.” The Ood keeps a hand on the folder until Lesly sits up to look at the folder then up at the Ood. He assumed this would have been about what she had found in the ice layers a few miles beyond their last sample’s location.

“Thanks, I’ll take a look through this in a second.”

Lesly flinches when a slight popping noise comes from one of the machines with tubes of liquid media in it. He stands and waves the Ood off, intent on fixing the pressurized device that had just become disconnected.

“On second thought, could you bring that to Bastion? I have to deal with whatever is going wrong there.” Lesly walks past the Ood to deal with the rattling popping box. The folder full of information would have to be peeled over the next available time.

“Of course, Lesly.” The Ood takes the folder and leaves the room with the folder clutched to their chest. Just down the hall was another lab Bastion would have been working in. That was where the Ood was headed. They were met with a pair of secured double doors. Stepping through them they would have to wait in a decontamination station for the misting system to finish. Once sprayed down they were allowed into the lab.

The second pair of doors opens letting them into the small square lab. The walls here are mostly barren besides some lock out shelves with vents that go up to the surface. The middle of the room has two counters in which are different pieces of technology used in studying and isolating bacterias. Bastion was busy at one of the counters carefully moving one strain into another container.

“Bastion, Doctor Lesly has told me to bring you down a folder from Doctor Anis.” The Ood steps into the room and sets the folder down on the black topped counter beside Bastion. Bastion, a blue humanoid dressed in a white full body clean gown turned to glance at the Ood. Their facial tendrils coiled up a bit to express their distaste in the Ood’s presence.

“Oh- must be about the new samples they recovered from the glades a few days ago.” Bastion sets the petri dish on the counter before tossing their rubber gloves into a biohazard waste bin. After washing their hands they take the folder from the counter. Flipping through the contents of the folder their expression deepens into one of displeasure.

“Is there anything else you would like me to deliver?” The Ood holds its translator device up a bit as Bastion picks over the folder. They slow their flipping through the pages for a moment to consider the question.

“Not currently. I will be up to meet with the two once I’ve filed these bad boy’s away.” Bastion gestures behind themself with a thumb at the Petri dishes waiting for them on the counter top. The Ood bows in understanding before turning away. With their dismissal they would return to the main floor back through the decontamination station.

On a level far above the Ood, Anis sat in her office. A small office with warm colored walls surrounded her. A large dark window to the left of her desk looks out into the snowy abyss. Her desk is a solid black wood with no real decorations on the press board. The wall to her right had a black wooden shelf with crates of folders and tube samples. The wall behind her is plain with a doctorate of hers tying her to the cat nuns. She smiles quietly to herself recollecting pictures of New, New York sent to her from her family back home.

“If we tell them now…” Anis whispers softly as her hand plays with a pen. She was rolling it over the surface of some paper in front of her. She is leaning over her desk lazily as she watches the world outside of her office. Her eyes flick up towards a ball of silver trailing orange behind it. A look of concern crosses her face as she squints at the glistening ball streaking across the sky above the twin peaks outside her window. She flinched as a sonic boom rips through the air shaking the windows - the strange silver item became clearer now as it hurtled closer and closer to the ground. It was some kind of spacecraft. Her look of concern turned to one of horror- that was a spacecraft! She ducked down as the ship vanished behind the two mountains- just in time it seemed as the crash from it shook the building hard enough to topple samples from her shelves.

“What in the Milky Way???” Anis dusts herself off as she sits up and watches the sky around the entrance point of the anomaly begin turning and swirling. She leans back as she hears the wind picking up outside as it howls against the window. The atmospheric disturbance had prompted the planet to start another snowy storm.

“Oh - oh no-“ She stands and bolts to her office exit. Out her window the smoke from the crashed ship trails up from between the two mountains. The black bleary smoke gets quickly swept away by a growing, powerful storm. It doesn’t take long for the storm to darken so much that the sky seems to go black.

#dalek #doctor who #Torchwood #Torchwood’s Dalek #the doctor’s Dalek #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction

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genxaisoftrgrid · 5 days ago

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Google’s AI Mode Now in India: What It Means for Businesses and Users

Google has officially rolled out its AI Mode in India, marking a significant step toward integrating intelligent features into everyday digital experiences. This development is not just a technical upgrade; it’s a strategic move aimed at empowering users and businesses with smarter, faster, and more context-aware capabilities across Google’s ecosystem. From voice search to personalized recommendations and real-time assistance, AI Mode brings the future of automation directly into users’ hands.

But what exactly is Google’s AI Mode, and why should Indian users and business owners care? Let’s break it down.

What Is Google’s AI Mode?

Google’s AI Mode is an advanced feature set powered by generative AI and machine learning, integrated into core Google products like Search, Maps, Gmail, Android, and more. Designed to improve user experience, this mode can summarise emails, generate smart replies, offer real-time translations, tailor search results based on behaviour, and even help businesses craft better content or ads using AI-driven insights.

Google has already launched AI Mode in the U.S. and select global markets, but its arrival in India is particularly impactful given the country’s rapidly growing digital population and mobile-first economy.

How It Benefits Indian Users

For everyday users, AI Mode enhances usability and access:

Smarter Search: Get context-based answers, summaries, and recommendations faster.

Multilingual Support: AI Mode now understands regional Indian languages more efficiently.

Accessibility Boost: Features like real-time captioning and voice typing are more accurate and inclusive.

Productivity Tools: Gmail and Docs can now help generate text, summarise long emails, and schedule meetings seamlessly.

These features aim to make digital interaction easier, more intuitive, and deeply personalized.

Why Indian Businesses Should Pay Attention

AI Mode isn’t just for consumers—it has big implications for businesses too:

Enhanced Ad Targeting: Google Ads can now suggest better-performing headlines and descriptions based on AI predictions.

Smarter Insights: Businesses can access AI-generated reports and market trends in real time.

Customer Engagement: Improved support tools (like AI chat integration via Google Workspace) mean faster and better customer service.

Local SEO Advantage: AI Mode in Search can prioritize hyperlocal results, giving small businesses more visibility in their area.

For startups, SMEs, and enterprise companies, leveraging these AI-powered capabilities can mean greater efficiency, better decision-making, and improved marketing ROI.

Partnering with the Right AI-Based Development & Digital Marketing Agency: GenXAI SoftGrid

To fully leverage the potential of Google’s AI Mode, businesses need more than just tools—they need a technology partner with vision. That’s where GenXAI SoftGrid comes in. As a leading web & app development and digital marketing agency in India, GenXAI SoftGrid blends innovative development capabilities with AI-powered marketing strategies to deliver end-to-end digital transformation.

From building intelligent, scalable web and mobile applications to executing high-performing SEO, Google Ads, and content strategies, GenXAI SoftGrid helps businesses harness the full spectrum of AI-driven opportunities. With a deep understanding of Google’s evolving AI ecosystem, the team ensures your brand is not only AI-ready but positioned for long-term success in a rapidly evolving digital landscape.

Final Thoughts

The arrival of Google’s AI Mode in India is more than just a feature release—it’s a shift in how we experience digital platforms. From smarter communication to intelligent automation, both users and businesses now have tools that can make every interaction more effective and personalized. For businesses ready to leap, partnering with a forward-thinking agency like GenXAI SoftGrid can make all the difference in turning AI potential into real-world growth.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. Why should I hire Angular developers from India instead of locally in the U.S.?

India offers a vast pool of experienced Angular developers at significantly lower costs. Indian developers are known for their strong technical expertise, agile project management, and ability to deliver scalable solutions tailored for startups, making them a smart choice for early-stage businesses.

2. Are Indian Angular developers familiar with modern tech stacks and agile workflows?

Yes, most Indian Angular development agencies work with global clients and are well-versed in the latest frontend and backend stacks. They follow agile methodologies, version control, CI/CD practices, and industry-standard project management tools like Jira, Trello, and Slack.

3. How do I ensure quality when working with Angular development services in India?

To ensure quality, choose a reputable company with a strong portfolio, client testimonials, and a transparent development process. Opt for developers who offer code reviews, testing, and regular updates throughout the project lifecycle.

4. Can I hire dedicated AngularJS developers in India on a full-time or hourly basis?

Absolutely. Most Angular development companies in India offer flexible hiring models—whether you need a full-time dedicated developer, a project-based team, or hourly support for smaller tasks.

5. Is Angular a good choice for building e-commerce or SaaS applications?

Yes. Angular is an excellent choice for both e-commerce and SaaS applications due to its speed, modular architecture, scalability, and component-based structure. Indian Angular e-commerce development companies can help you create high-performance, conversion-focused platforms.

#web & app development #digital marketing agency in India #digital marketing agency

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learnmorewithus · 1 month ago

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Achieve Data Science Mastery Without Leaving Your Job

In today’s data-driven world, companies across industries are racing to harness the power of data. From finance and healthcare to retail and logistics, data science has become the engine behind strategic decision-making, innovation, and automation. But here’s the challenge: most professionals don’t have the time to pause their careers to gain these advanced skills.

That’s where the Level 7 Diploma in Data Science from Edubex steps in—a career-transforming program designed with flexibility, relevance, and working professionals in mind.

Upskill Without Career Disruption

The biggest concern for many aspiring learners is time. With a full-time job, personal commitments, and tight schedules, pursuing further education might seem out of reach.

But with Edubex’s 100% online, self-paced diploma, you can learn whenever and wherever it suits you. There are no rigid class schedules or need to attend physical lectures. Instead, the program is built to fit into your life—not take over it.

Whether you prefer early morning sessions or late-night learning, this diploma offers the flexibility to grow your expertise without quitting your job or compromising on work performance.

Master Core Data Science Skills

This isn’t just theory. The Level 7 Diploma in Data Science equips you with practical, job-ready knowledge in:

Python for data analysis

Machine Learning and AI applications

Big Data frameworks like Hadoop and Spark

Data Visualization tools like Tableau

Predictive Analytics & Deep Learning

Ethics and governance in data use

You’ll work on real-world case studies and projects, gaining experience that translates directly into the workplace.

Globally Recognized Qualification

The diploma is awarded by a globally respected awarding body, ensuring that your qualification carries international credibility. Whether you aim to grow in your current company or explore opportunities abroad, this diploma strengthens your profile on a global scale.

It’s also a stepping stone to further studies—many graduates use this qualification to move toward Master’s programs or top-up MBA degrees.

Career Opportunities Await

Completing this program opens doors to some of the most in-demand and well-paid roles in the modern workforce, such as:

Data Scientist

Machine Learning Engineer

AI Analyst

Business Intelligence Specialist

Data Consultant

Analytics Manager

With companies actively seeking professionals who can turn data into actionable insights, your new skills can position you as a valuable asset in virtually any industry.

Why Choose Edubex?

100% Online & Flexible Learning

Affordable International Education

Expert Faculty & Support

Career-Focused Curriculum

Recognized and Transferable Credits

Final Thought: Your Future in Data Science Starts Here

If you’ve been waiting for the right time to shift into a high-growth, high-reward field, the time is now—and you don’t have to leave your job to do it.

The Level 7 Diploma in Data Science by Edubex empowers you to build deep technical knowledge, sharpen your analytical thinking, and step into a future where your career moves with the speed of data.

#diploma courses #pg courses #careercourses #datascience

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callalillywrites · 2 months ago

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I Smell Snow

Written for @stuckybingo. A2 - Snow.

Stucky Masterlist | Stucky Bingo | Main Masterlist

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 1208

Summary: You've always had a special ability to sniff out snow. It's what drags you out of bed between your best friends at an early hour. You really do love the first snow of the season as it's the most magical of times.

Warnings: pre-relationship; established best friends; fluff; Bucky and Steve always need more sleep

A/N: This was purely inspired by Lorelei Gilmore in the first season of Gilmore Girls, episode 8. Just one of my favorite scenes from the series.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

"Mm, I smell snow," you whispered in the quiet of your shared bedroom. The scent in the air had been the very thing to coax you from sleep, too. It'd been the reason you quickly but carefully crawled out from between your two best friends and tiptoed over to the large windows. A glance beyond the tinted glass had your smile growing. In the same soft voice, you added, "Tonight. It's going to snow tonight."

Another deep inhale further confirmed your suspicions.

You really couldn't help the soft squeal that slipped past your lips.

Afraid you might've disturbed your sleeping friends, you dared a glance over your shoulder. To your surprise and relief, they remained sleeping. With their enhanced hearing, you'd always been careful with how loud you got around them. At least, you tried to anyway. It wasn't something you could always control, but you definitely tried.

Especially times like this.

They'd both been through it with their last mission.

Sleep hadn't been easy for Steve or Bucky. This was probably the first night in a week where they'd both finally found some rest.

You wouldn't jeopardize that.

Too jazzed to return to bed, you quietly slipped toward your closet and plucked your robe. Without the heat of the two super soldiers, the coolness of the room settled over you in quick fashion. Before you slid the door shut, you also picked out some fuzzy socks for your feet. All you needed was something to do while letting them continue to rest.

Checking the clock, you saw the hour wasn't so early that an early morning breakfast would be crazy.

The idea of a big buffet-style breakfast actually sounded good to you. One, it would give you the chance to use up some of your older foodstuffs. Two, it was sure to help fill up both super soldier after finally getting their much-needed rest. Three, you needed the excuse to stay up and inhale that delectable scent that promised your favorite precipitation. And last but never least, it was an excuse to pamper your best friends in a way they'd accept without protest.

Well, maybe not without protest.

You could well imagine Steve and/or Bucky saying, "You didn't need to do this for us, doll."

The smile on your lips widened even as you shook your head. It'd be so easy to brush that aside, too, and you would if they did. Because you wanted to do this for them. You wanted to take care of them as they took care of so many others. Took care of you. It was the least you could.

The answer to why was simple, too.

You loved them.

Taking care to miss the creaky board near your your bedroom door, you moved into your small but efficient kitchenette. You quickly flicked on the overhead lights but dimmed them so they wouldn't disturb Steve and Bucky. It was moments like this that you appreciated some of the upgrades you'd made to your condo with their help.

With practiced steps and movements, you grabbed everything from your cabinets and fridge that you'd need for the breakfast you planned. The soft-close cabinet doors worked again in your favor as you mentally checked everything off your list.

Softly humming, you set to work with your ingredients taking over one of your precious few counters. Chopping, beating, stirring, and heating, each of them soothing in their own ways. Warmth soon had you shedding your robe, hanging it on the peg where you also hung your apron.

You were setting out the giant plate of sausages next to the others when you realized you weren't alone.

Glancing towards your bedroom doorway, you spied Steve and Bucky, sleep-tousled but wide-eyed. Your earlier smile came back full force. You motioned them toward the two stools you had tucked under your counter overhang.

"What got you up so early, doll?" Bucky asked, accepting the cup of coffee you handed him.

Steve also accepted one. "We didn't kick you out of your bed, did we?"

You shook your head even as your smile grew. Watching them sip at their coffees, you worked not to preen when they both groaned appreciatively. It hadn't been too hard to learn how they took their coffees, insisting on giving them perfect cups each time. Only when they set their cups down and focus on you did you answer Bucky's question.

"I smelled snow."

Amusement filled their eyes and tipped their lips upward at the corners.

"Of course, you did," Steve murmured, his amusement growing. "When will we be seeing it, you think?"

Just as before, you took another inhale. It wouldn't hurt to confirm your suspicions after all, having cracked a window while cooking. You hummed your own appreciation as you noted the subtle scent lingering beneath the heavenly aromas of the food you'd prepared.

"Definitely tonight," you said after another deep inhale. Oh, you'd never get over how great the smell of the first snow of the season was. Everything's magical. Everything's so pretty.

"It's not the only thing magical or pretty," Bucky said, bringing you out of your thoughts. Heat suffused your cheeks while his eyes remained on you, his smile widening as he continued to sip at his coffee. "Isn't that right, punk?"

Steve nodded, not even trying to hide his grin behind his coffee cup. No, he kept it at his side as he studied you with a look you'd seen plenty of times but could never quite define.

"You two shouldn't tease me," you chided, your earlier smile shifting into a soft pout. "It's not nice."

"Oh, we'd never tease you, doll," Steve said, pushing to his feet and coming around the counter. His arms wrapped around your middle and tugged you back into his warm, solid chest. "We're just thankful we have you in our lives. Your love of snow and all."

He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then disengaged to return to his seat.

Before you could think to protest his absence, Bucky had taken Steve's previous position. "He's right. We'll have to make the most of this first snow tonight. Anything special you wanna do?"

You shook your head.

"Well then, you won't mind if we come up a few surprises for you."

It wasn't a question as Bucky, too, pressed a kiss to your opposite cheek. He lingered another moment before he finally let you go and returned to his seat next to Steve.

You soon handed them plates after you finished up the final bit of cooking to complete your breakfast feast. They loaded them down with a little bit of everything, then went back for seconds. Few words really passed in those early hours, but then, they didn't need to as you three ate together.

While they cleaned up your kitchenette, you settled on your sofa where you could watch the early morning rays starting to color the skyline. The window remained cracked open so you could take another inhale now and then.

Sipping on your second cup of coffee, you knew the day would be a good one.

The first snow of the season has never let you down before.

Who knows? Maybe it'll be the start of something new.

#stucky bingo #stucky #stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #x female readers #steve roges x reader #bucky barnes x reader #snow #first snow #inspired by lorelei gilmore

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tennisexpressblog · 2 months ago

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Treat Yourself with These 5 Tennis Gifts

Whether you’re a new tennis player looking to gift yourself something for reaching a milestone in your game or a regular player who just wants a pick-me-up, some tennis gifts are perfect for giving yourself. From stylish racket bags to replace ones starting to fall apart from use or better shoes to help you bounce around the court, here are some ideas for what you can give yourself.

A New Racquet

Over time, you might gravitate towards a specific play style, especially as you go from beginner to intermediate. Different racquets are meant for different play styles, from big serves to secure aces to playing closer to the net and trying to control the ball. Everything from head size to the type of string matters, and getting the perfect racquet for you is a major gift you can give yourself, especially if you’ve just finished a beginner's class or are starting an advanced one. It’s the gift of narrowing in on your play style and playing to your strengths.

A Racquet Bag to Store the Racquet

Whether you’re getting a new racquet or your old bag is simply starting to show its age, you might also need a new racquet bag. Your bag might only store your racquet, or you can choose something fancier to hold your racquet and other small items and accessories. Plenty of choices, from the highly utilitarian to multi-racquet bags, fit in with designer handbags.

Better Court Shoes

Like a new racquet, the right shoes can improve your game, but only if you know what kind of play style you use. Gifting yourself the right shoes can also make your feet more comfortable during the game, such as with specific insoles and ankle padding, depending on how you move. It also matters what type of court you typically play on. For example, suppose you’re looking at Roger Federer shoes. In that case, the Roger Advantage Pro Clay has a herringbone pattern meant for clay courts and a hidden cage that helps stabilize your forefoot, while Cloudtec foam increases your comfort.

A New Look

Getting new tennis apparel can give you a new look, and with a new look, you can feel like a new player. Good tennis apparel will move with you, giving you more freedom of movement, and that can directly translate to better swings and letting you move around the court better. Plus, you get to look good in a new outfit, and new look, new you. After all, if you’re going to hit an ace, you might as well look good while doing it.

A Ball Machine

A significant gift for yourself is the ability to play tennis by yourself. A ball machine can help you practice when no one is around, or if you just want to get some me time, but also want to hit the court. Whether you want to work on your swing or just hit a ball back to the machine, you can have fun by yourself just by gifting yourself a ball machine if you have the space for it.

About Tennis Express

From tennis racquets and balls to shoes, apparel, accessories, and more from top brands in the industry, Tennis Express is your one-stop shop for everything tennis. Whether you’re a beginner player or seasoned tennis pro, Tennis Express is where performance innovators, passionate players, and tennis enthusiasts turn to fuel their inner champions. Tennis Express serves up a broad selection of the latest tennis products and gear to enhance every swing and step you take on the court. Plus, Tennis Express offers same-day shipping and a try-before-you-buy tennis racquet program so you can serve up unparalleled game play wherever the courts take you. Made for the tennis lovers, Tennis Express is here to help you play at your best, in and out of the court.

Find these gifts for yourself, plus many other options, at https://tennisexpress.com/

Original Source: https://bit.ly/3F4a0Gh

#tennis racket bags

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art-of-manliness · 1 year ago

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The Right Way to Do Leg Extensions for Strong and Meaty Quads

Last month, I talked about how I’ve reincorporated weight machines into my strength-training workouts to good effect. This year, we’ll be doing some articles on how to use various weight machines properly. One of the benefits of using machines is that they have a much easier learning curve than lifting barbells. But there are a few things you should know about using each in order to avoid pain and injury and use them most effectively for building size and strength. First up in these tutorials is the leg extension machine, which targets your quadriceps and your quadriceps alone. There is some folklore out there that the leg machine can cause injuries and puts too much stress on the knees. But this isn’t borne out by research, which has found that leg extensions are safe, including for ACL rehabilitation. There’s also a myth that leg extensions aren’t functional. But quad strength translates to everything from walking to running, and particularly to explosive movements like jumping and cutting. Also, because people often use compensating muscles when doing other leg exercises (especially if they’re dealing with injuries), leg extensions, by isolating the quads, can help correct strength imbalances created by these compensating strategies. This is useful in preventing new injuries, as well as re-injuries, particularly a second ACL tear. Not only are leg extensions a safe strength-building exercise, they also help give you defined and meaty legs, so you can confidently wear your shorty shorts around town. And, since you’re only moving a single joint, they perform this function without requiring the kind of recovery you need after doing the squat or leg press. But since leg extensions, like all exercises, are only safe to do if you do them right, let’s get into how to perform them properly. Setting Up the Machine My home gym, plate-loaded leg machine doesn’t have as many adjustment options as one you’ll find in a commercial gym, so I couldn’t dial in my position as much as you might be able to, but this a generally good set-up position. The leg extension itself is a simple movement. The big thing you have to pay attention to is setting up the machine before you start doing them. There are several adjustments to make to the machine before you begin this exercise to ensure ergonomic comfort, maximization of strength-producing, hypertrophy-creating force, and the prevention of undue pain and strain on your joints: Weight stack/plates. There are different schools of thought on what weight you should use for leg extensions. One is that you should go with lower weight because you’re only using a single joint to move the weight, and you’re not able to exert that much force without form breaking down. To get the hypertrophic stimulus with lower weight, you’ll need to do high reps in the 15-20 range. If you’re going to go the high rep route with leg extensions, perform them at the end of your workout, so you don’t fatigue yourself for the main leg exercise like the squat. The other school of thought is that as long as you can perform the reps with good form and without pain, you can stick to the traditional 8-12 rep range prescribed for hypertrophy and go heavier. Experiment and find what works for you. Seat back distance. The seat back can be adjusted forwards or backwards. Positioning it correctly will minimize undue strain on your knees and allow you to produce maximum force. You want to move the seat back so that when you sit down, your knees are not too far in front of the edge of the seat’s base, nor too far back. Your knees should align with the leg bar’s pivot point. The creases at the backs of the knees should sit against the edge of the butt pad. Leg pad height. The pad that will sit on top of your lower legs can sometimes be adjusted up or down. The pad should rest where the ankle flexes. Not up on your shins or down towards your toes. Leg bar range of motion. The leg bar can be adjusted so that it sits more or less under the seat’s base. The further back it… http://dlvr.it/T4ywTj

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muscular-fantasies · 3 years ago

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Can you help me? Recently, My nerd roommate stole all my muscles using a weird machine! I was a football player and heavyweight bodybuilder, but he took away all my positions. And now my life is hell by him. I was nice to him, but he betrayed me! Can you please get us back to normal? I want to revenge on him!

You wanted everything back like it was. He had made your life hell, after everything you did for him. It wasn't enough that you tried to help him with training or against the bullies. He used you, as he stole everything he wanted.. that nice smile, those big arms, that hairy chest and well groomed beard.. but mostly that dominance when you walked through the hallway, seeing the crowd open as you passed... Exhilarating!

Luckily for you that also meant you got his life, including all those books about transfiguration and body snapping. It took you weeks however to translate them and figure out what to do and another month to prepare everything.

You waited at you old room, until he showed up.

"WTF! What are you doing here little shit! Gonna beg for this amazing bod again?" He snarled pushing you aside.

"I'm not begging! Not anymore." You snapped back.

You opened a bottle and a smoke formed in the room. It surrounded the two of you as it shrouded everything else. You then swallowed the liquid inside as you started stepping towards him. Each foot hitting the ground harder as you prepared to grab him.

"Dude! Get away, whatever you do I'll reverse it anyway and take even more!" He stammered, as he stepped back. His back hitting the wall of fog, unable to move through it.

"Haha.. I've prepared for everything, there won't be a next time!" You growl, hunger in your eyes.

You jump on him, your flesh merging where you touch. He screams, but the smoke doesn't let any sound pass. You push your face against him, embracing the growing strength.

"Ahhhh!" You scream, waking up on the floor, memories of pushing and someone... no the twig trying to take over.

You look into the mirror laughing as you see your new body, having lost a lot of the body hair you were so proud of you still smirked at the reflection. Your new boyishly good looks could make any guy fall on his knees, at just the right height to suck on that throbbing dick..

"I know your still somewhere in there, you little shit.. Thanks for bringing my intelligence back to me, I kinda missed it.. Maybe you should have used it to look for the flaws I prepared in those books. Now be a good boy and enjoy riding in our hot bod, as I'll go fuck that sexy linebacker."

#male tf #muscle transformation #muscle gay #gay transformation #body transformation #muscle theft #muscle #body theft #body control #male transformation #body possession #straigth to gay

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pearlsinmyhair · 2 years ago

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༄ breath of venus ༄

chapter four • eywa’s will

word count: 4.9k

warnings: cursing. cannon typical violence and weapon use. the recombinants make fun of venus and make some crude remarks. mansk and venus have a few moments. venus goes through a moment of slight mental distress towards the end.

a/n: a few this time! first, in this au mansk is younger. his exact age will be discussed in later chapters, but know that his mental age in this story is at twenty one. second, venus is a child. she makes some immature decisions and has a few moments of uncertainty that would happen to most young people in her situation. this is a traumatic experience, so please try to understand why she does certain things. last, rutxïryo is here! his name is pronounced “root-z-eye-row” with a rolled r. it translated to “strong wind/loyal heart”. and yes, he’s BIG. he has a wingspan of 14.5 meters, or about 47 feet.

previous | series masterlist | next

“you are so brave and quiet i forget you are suffering.” ~ Earnest Hemingway.

༄

The recombinant soldiers stood in a circle at the beginning of the tarmac, joking and rough housing just as they did when they were human. It was almost enough to forget that they were now blue and nine feet tall. But then a soldier or pilot would walk past them, casting a cautious glance that made them snap back into reality.

“They’re just jealous” Lyle was saying as he knocked his shoulder against Ja. “We can breathe, they can’t do shit. We got carbon reinforced bones that take tons to break. Who wouldn’t be glaring?”

Of course, they chose not to dwell on the truth behind said glares. The truth being that they now looked like the enemy. As well as that they were resurrected humans that had been dead for sixteen years.

Zdog was laughing at Lyle when her posture stiffened. Her eyes widened slightly at something over Quaritch’s shoulder, and he turned to look.

He internally balked at what he saw.

Mansk and Lopez escorted a muzzled Venus to where they stood. Her wrists were bound, and as they neared Quaritch could see where the skin of her cheek pushed against the metal of the mask.

It was too damn tight. It looked like it was suffocating her.

Maybe that was the intention.

The whole time her eyes were on him. They weren’t alight with rage, nor were they stubborn as they had been in her cell. While those emotions had set him off before, he would gladly trade the empty look she gave him now for them.

He glanced at Lopez and Mansk, noting the stiffness of their shoulders and the grim set of their mouths. He cracked his neck in an attempt to dismiss whatever tension had settled onto his own body.

He called out to his squad, and they began walking across the tarmac quickly to an awaiting scorpion. He placed a hand onto the back of Venus’s neck to guide her.

She flinched, hard.

When he pulled his hand away, he saw the two purple bruises from the prongs of the interrogation machine. He winced. He moved his hand lower, to the base of her neck.

She kept pace with them easily, keeping her head slightly down.

“Get on the ship, find a seat and keep out of the way.” he yelled over the sound of the choppers blades. He gave her a little push and she jogged onto the ship, seating herself right behind a mounted gun.

“Hold on there hot shot” he called, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her down into a seated position. Now, he could see a bit of humor in her eyes, and a little bit of irritation as she was tugged away from the gun.

“Listen up. The tracker in your arm has a very strong magnetic signature that can be seen and heard even through the flux vortex. You hit the ground running, I will have you back in two minutes, and I will give you an old school ass whippin’. Understood?”

She raised her eyebrow at him before she dipped her chin. He supposed that was going to be the only answer that he could get since she couldn’t exactly speak.

He and his soldiers hung out the open doors of the aircraft, watching the landscape go by with the same childlike awe that they had the first time they flew over the trees. Venus stayed planted in her seat.

He supposed that she had seen this all before, especially if she had a banshee. She would be more than familiar with trees and such.

But instead of closing her eyes or looking around the craft, she watched them, and she didn’t seem too concerned with hiding her curiosity. Her ears pricked forward, swerving as she listened in on their conversations. Her eyes had a warmer look to them, but there was still something missing.

Whenever she breathed, there was a soft wheezing sound. Quaritch glanced down to her chest, watching how her ribs expanded unsteadily, and when he glanced back up her eyes had fluttered closed. When she started to lean forward he caught her with his hand, moving her so that her weight rested back against the seat. Her eyes peaked open at him, before she closed them once more.

Wheeze went the mask as she tried to breathe. Quaritch’s ears flicked back.

He turned away from her to find the soldiers already staring at him. Their eyes held the same thoughts as his most likely did.

It seemed that Parker Selfridge’s agenda to conserve their public image was long forgotten. The RDA, or at least Ardmore, had no problem restraining a teenage girl like an animal.

༄

The chopper landed, and Quaritch gave the pilot a thumbs-up as they lifted off without them. Wainfleet had woken Venus, and she leaned against a fallen tree not to far from where the squad circled up.

The group was silent except for the sound of her ragged breath.

She watched as Quaritch nodded to Wainfleet. The man took his knife from its holder and approached her, raising the blade. She flinched away.

This is it. It’s over. I’m done.

She closed her eyes, bracing for the feeling of cold steel cutting through her body.

She was therefore unprepared when it slipped under the strap of the muzzle and sliced. She gulped fresh air down like water, coughing. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Quaritch held the muzzle.

Without once looking at her he set it down against a large boulder, picked up a rock, and smashed it.

Venus lifted her hand and traced the indents of the mask. Seeing her concern, Ja walked over and examined her for cuts. He shook his head at her expression.

“There shouldn’t be any permanent marks, it’ll just itch a bit.” he said, voice surprisingly soft.

She nodded, moving to sit on the log behind her, finding a ray of sun to absorb.

Quaritch arranged himself in the middle of the circle, turning to address his squad.

“Sully’s gone to ground, but that doesn’t matter. Well find them, and his batshit crazy wife too.” he said, self-righteous and proud.

He flinched when Venus let out a low hiss. He turned to her, making an effort to have a blank face.

“You got something to add, princess?” he asked her, and she bit her tongue at the nickname. “My mother is not ‘bat shit crazy’ , she was protecting her children. If you do not want to elicit that reaction from her, then you should call off this mission.”

Quaritch scoffed, and the other recombinants laughed at her outburst.

My mother will gut you, all of you, with no remorse. You forget I am her daughter.

Oh, how she longed for her knife and bow.

He continued, ignoring her. “To do so, we go na’vi. We eat na’vi, we ride na’vi, we think na’vi. And that starts with speaking the language.”

She couldn’t suppress the small chuckle that escaped her lips.

He turned to her with a glower. “Something funny?”

“Your na’vi is barely passable. A three year old can speak better.” she answered in na’vi. He sounded like an over-eager child, far too confident in his pronunciation.

She could tell from his face that he didn’t know most of what she said, but that he had understood it was an insult.

He rolled his shoulders and puffed his chest, turning fully to her. “Okay, smartass. You just went from being our little mascot to our official translator.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead opting for a small, albeit fake, smile. “Thank you for the promotion, Colonel. I won’t let you down.” she said sarcastically with a mock-salute.

Quaritch glared.

She tossed her head back and let out a short laugh.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

༄

Venus tried so hard to make them understand how loud they were. So hard.

Did they not understand that they were stomping? Did they not see how the bugs and birds scattered as they approached?

It was a little funny at first. Now Venus wondered if a predator would come and find them. Their thrashing and laughing served as a beacon.

She pushed her irritation aside.

They are babies. They don’t know. They are learning.

Except that they wouldn’t learn. They had chuckled at her advice on where to walk. They had glanced at each other when she tried to teach them.

It was downright demeaning. Patronizing, even.

So she took some pleasure when they couldn’t keep up with her. Or when Lopez’s boot got stuck in mud. Or when Pragar hit a stinging plant. Or when Zdog stumbled over tree roots.

She couldn’t stand how slow they were. A part of her thanked the Great Mother; any time wasted was time that kept her family safe.

But Eywa, she was going to have to drag these soldiers if they were going to get anything done.

Eclipse was already starting to set it, and she noticed how Quaritch and Wainfleet spoke in low tones.

She slowed her step, dropping from a tree limb that she had been walking on to stride alongside Lyle.

“I would not recommend traveling at night. It is very dangerous on the forest floor.” A pause as she contemplated her next statement. “There is an abandoned hunting post that only I use nearby. We could camp there for the night.”

Quaritch gave her an incredulous look. “Like hell we’re stopping. We’ll keep traveling.”

Venus raised an eyebrow.

“How intact are your old memories?” she asked simply. Quaritch looked at her quizzically.

“Intact enough.”

Venus smiled. “So then you remember what happened to your face when you were human.” The infamous three marks, the thing that stopped the old quaritch from allowing night patrols.

She watched as it slowly dawned on him. It was odd, seeing him experience past memories. There was clearly a disconnect.

Questions for a later time.

“I still don’t like the idea of you leading us somewhere.” he said, looking at her fully.

Venus shrugged. “It’s our best option. There’s strong branches to rest on, and we shouldn’t be bothered by predatory wildlife.” she took a step ahead of them. “Or we can continue and risk the nantang.”

Zdog eyed her “And those are?”

Venus took some relish with translating. “Viperwolves.” She walked through a bush, taking the lead. She didn’t need to see their faces to know that they were picturing them. It was only a matter of time when Wainfleet’s hand closed around her forearm.

She spun so fast that he had to take a step back. “Do not touch me.” she said, looking hard up into his eyes. He let go.

“Colonel has decided that your base is a good idea. But he doesn’t want you to lead.”

Venus shrugged, allowing some of the soldiers to pass her as she gave Lyle coordinates. When he nodded to her, she fell into step beside Mansk.

Mansk. She had learned his name from the conversations in the copter. She had tried the word on her tongue when she had her muzzle taken off, finding it hard to say. Only Mansk had noticed when she uttered it, and she had flushed in embarrassment.

Now, she looked up at the soldier beside her, trying to discern if it suited him. He had a first name, but she had gathered that he chose not to reveal it. She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed that his face had turned to her.

“You’re glaring” he said, voice low in the hush of the group.

Venus blinked. She hadn’t heard him speak yet, but his voice sounded pleasant to her. Not too loud, unlike most of the marines. It also confirmed her suspicions that Mansk may be younger than the others.

“I’m sorry” she said softly, tail lashing once. “It’s your glasses. I can’t see your eyes. Covering them is unusual.”

He reached up and put his glasses on top of his head, allowing her to finally see his face.

Oh.

Her father had explained to her what the term ‘baby face’ meant when he said Neteyam had one.

Mansk was baby faced.

His nose was more pointed than a typical na’vi’s, but that wasn’t unexpected. His face was slightly round, his cheekbones not too sharp.

But what stunned her were his eyes.

They were a pretty lime green, with long eyelashes framing them. She briefly noted how unfair that was, but didn’t dwell.

Because he was looking at her in a way that made her heart stutter.

It was empathetic and unyielding. Yes, he was pretty, and she couldn’t be blamed for admiring. But what startled her was he looked like he was seeing her.

And that was terrifying from a recombinant soldier who was on a mission to kill her father.

Her fingers twitched, and she had to fight the urge to reach up to bring his face down closer to study. Her mother had always warned her against her tendency to reach out, and she exercised the same restraint of her curious instincts that she had in her youth.

She realized that they had been standing there for far too long when Wainfleet cleared his throat and she noticed that it was only three of them. The others must have kept walking.

She looked away as Mansk gave a small cough, and they rejoined the group. Lopez reached out and jostled Mansk by his shoulder, and the soldier pulled his sunglasses back down. Venus tried not to be too upset at that.

He’s an enemy. He cuffed you. He held you while you were muzzled. He will kill your father if given the chance.

But that was the problem with being an interpreter of Eywa. She was too empathetic to ignore any possibility of nonviolent solutions. It was something that haunted her, the possibility that these soldiers could be redeemed.

The only problem? They had to want it.

They neared the base of the tree, and Venus looked up, easily finding a path up the branches. She looked back at the recombinants expectantly.

“Let’s go.” was all she said before she leapt, grabbing a branch and climbing up expertly. The soldiers followed, this time heeding her words of guidance.

Soon, they were well into the canopy, concealed from most fauna. Branches intertwined with one another to form nest-like structures, and they were thinker than their bodies. It was a very old tree, and she chose it for that reason. Even now as she ran her fingertips over the bark, she could feel the whisper of history.

She reached into an alcove, pulling out a stowed bag of clothing and an empty water flask. This was her hunting spot, where she would stay during long trips for large game. She made sure that clean clothes stayed there just incase.

She looped the bag over her shoulder and turned to the group. “There is a spring nearby. I’m going to wash up, if anyone else is interested.”

She took one step before Quaritch stated “You’re not going anywhere.”

She turned slowly. “I’m covered in muck and blood. You all got showers, id like to atleast scrub myself.” she said, voice low and dangerous. She was tired of being a mess, tired of the way mud stuck to her skin and red gathered under her fingernails.

Quaritch looked torn. Probably because she was a teenage girl who so happened to be his daughter. It made his commitment to treating her like a prisoner much muddier.

“You can’t go alone.”

“Then send someone with me.” she gritted out, loosing her patience. “There’s a tracker in my arm. What was it you said? You’ll have me back in two minutes if I escape?”

Quaritch pointedly ignored the second half of her statement, looking at Zdog. The sole female recom nodded, rising to walk towards Venus.

They descended, and she carefully led the woman through the trees to the babbling spring nearby.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Venus mumbled. All she got was a soft chuckle in response.

When they got to the water, she suggested a spot for Z to sit before walking into the spring.

She had no qualms about stripping in front of her. They were both women, and Venus had grown used to showing skin.

She sank under the cool water, scrubbing her body with a nearby aüti. It gave off a thyme-like aroma, and she felt the urge to sink into sleep. She took her hair out of its braid, combing through it and removing mud and gunk.

When she was satisfied, she reached towards the bag and pulled out a na’vi sized towel, a gift from the avatars that she was eternally grateful for. She then slipped a woven top over her head, tying a matching tewng around her lower body. It was hunting apparel, much more appropriate for whatever long term flight they were about to embark on.

She forwent the riding chaps, electing to put them on in the morning. She stashed her other clothes in the bag. She patted her hair down with a towel and left it long to dry. Zdog looked up as she rose, clean and dressed. The woman nodded at her, and they went back to the tree.

When they reached the branches once more, she felt their eyes linger. Particularly on a certain scar on her waist.

“You have questions.” she said. The silence was enough of an answer as she turned to them.

Eclipse set in as she settled into one of the little nests, and she watched as their tanhí began to glow. She wondered if they realized the full extent of their…transformation. She laid down on her belly, resting her head on her hands as Ja spoke.

“The scar.” he said simply.

She nodded. “I got it while taming my Ikran. By all accounts it was a quick bonding, but he was able to slam me against a cliff. I was impaled by a sharp rock, and I hid it for as long as I could. Because I hid it, it made it hard for the scar to be cleanly stitched and it wouldn’t fade. But I don’t mind how it looks.”

She observed their reactions. They had come to tame an ikran, and now they were beginning to realize how hard it would be.

This time it was Lopez who asked “How long?”

She smiled. “Six seconds.”

Lopez let out a small whistle, and she realized from their faces that she had just set a record for them to beat.

Good luck. They’ll kill you in six seconds if you’re lucky.

A soft voice. “How old were you?”

She looked at Mansk. He had taken his glasses off, making direct eye contact with her.

“Eleven.” she answered, and she made an effort to keep her tail from lashing happily when he nodded and the recombinants gave her looks of shock.

She decided that now would not be a good time to explain the logistics of what would occur in less than twenty-four hours. Besides, maybe she could kill two birds with one stone: Eywa would decide their fate, removing the decision from her conscious, and the ikran would throw them from the rookery, freeing her.

The hair on her skin suddenly raised, and whispers filled her ears. Breath tickled the back of her neck.

An atokirina floated down slowly to Quaritch. The man had remained silent since she had returned, ears pricked forward as she spoke. Now, his ears pinned back, and he reeled back a hand and slapped it.

“No!” She lunged up and forward, throwing herself off balance. The exhaustion of the past twenty four hours finally caught up to her as her vision swam.

Mansk’s hand caught her upper arm, keeping her from tilting over the branch and falling to her death.

But she didn’t focus on him.

“Mawey!” she cried out of instinct, then translated “Be calm! It will not hurt you!”

Quaritch watched her with wide eyes as the wood sprite drifted down to rest on his raised fingers. She watched as he made an effort to not move. She didn’t miss a note of recognition in his eyes as he looked at it.

She reached forward, grabbing his hand and carefully flipping it so it sat in his palm. He looked down at it right as another landed on his head.

Venus looked around to find a whole swarm around her and the recoms. They lit up the darkness of the canopy, casting soft white and blue glow to their faces.

The soldiers mimicked their colonel, allowing the sprites to touch them but not engaging with them either.

Venus sat back into her spot right as an atokirina swam towards Mansk. He moved to push it away (gently, she noted). She reached out and grabbed his hand, moving it down to the space between them.

It’s alright, her eyes said as he glanced at her.

The sprite drifted to their touching hands, hovering over them. She glanced up to find Mansk already staring at her. Then, his eyes moved slightly to her shoulder.

When she turned her head, a sprite came into view. She lifted her face to it, and it landed on her nose, moving with her breath.

I am here, it whispered.

All at once, the atokirina floated up and away from them, disappearing into the night.

Wainfleet was the first to break the silence.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, pointedly glancing down at the hand that rested over Mansk’s. Venus removed it. “Wood sprites. We call them atokirina. They are the seeds of the spirit tree, and they are said to be the spirit of eywa in physical form.” She made eye contact with Quaritch. “They are very pure.”

They cast a few disbelieving looks at each other, some even smirking in amusement. She simply rolled her shoulders and curled up in her branch-nest.

“Get some rest. You will need it tomorrow.”

She listened as they all settled down, waiting as their breathes slowed into sleep.

Eywa had made her decision.

They are strong hearted, my little one. But they need guidance.

Venus knew that already. But having it be blessed made it more…tangible. She clenched her eyes closed and prayed for the exhaustion that had taken over her body only minutes ago.

It did not come.

༄

She had finally convinced the recoms to leave their boots.

After one slip on behalf of lopez when they were making their way to the ground, the group decided that maybe rubber soled combat boots weren’t the best thing for pandoran forest terrain. Venus had to fight to not say ‘I told you so’.

Now, they walked through the forest towards the step stones to the ikran rookery. It was mostly silent, but occasionally they asked her questions.

“Is it difficult?”

“Very.”

“How exactly?”

“They’ll kill you.”

Silence. She was becoming uneasy with the fact that she was leading them to such a sacred space. They didn’t deserve ikran, not yet. The forest hadn’t accepted them yet.

Venus had already denied Quaritch the right to hunt, explaining that Eywa had not given her approval for him to take a life. The group had laughed at her, and she heard their whispers from behind her as she led the way.

Hippie. Native. Savage Princess. Tree Hugger.

She could ignore it. She had been called much worse and much more barbed names in her youth. These soldiers with their fragile egos and broken minds would not disturb her.

Babies, she reminded herself. Babies.

But even infants and toddlers had manners.

“Bet you her crazy bitch of a mother taught her all her tricks. She’ll probably go ballistic the moment we’re not looking. You saw how she fought against Lopez when he dragged her back. She’s a fucking monster.” whispered Pragar.

Her gut churned and her fist tightened. Her father had always taught her to command respect with silence and maturity. But this was hopeless.

She settled on glaring over her shoulder. “If you are going to speak so candidly about me, then you could at least raise your voice. No point of hiding your words if you are confident enough to say them out loud.” She promptly strode away, faster than the others were capable of.

She didn’t care as thorns sliced her thighs, or as she stepped on rocks. Tears stung in her eyes.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

She wouldn’t break in the way they wanted her to. She wouldn’t reveal her secrets.

But she may just snap and slit someone’s throat.

She was walking fast when a hand caught her upper arm and wrenched her backwards.

She was pulled against the solid form of Quaritch, and she beat her open palms against his chest. She took a step back to glare up at him, but his hand tightened, keeping her from going any further.

“You will not antagonize my corporals, you hear? You will shut up until it is necessary for you to speak-“

“Oh, so you want me to be a fucking blank slate then? How the hell am i supposed to remain calm when they’re insulting me constantly?” She didn’t care how childish she sounded, didn’t care how her voice cracked as she forced the words out.

“If you wanted me silent why did you take the muzzle off?”

The question was like a gunshot. They both went still, at a draw in the conversation. Quaritch worked his jaw thoughtfully, and Venus waited for an answer. Why free her mouth if he did not want to hear it?

But the sympathy that he had shown her then was gone from his gaze now.

He just ‘tsk’ed and pulled her back towards the group. She dug her heels down. “No” she said, firm as she tugged against him. “Let me go.”

He, of course, did not. He yanked her arm, making her inhale in pain. “Let me go.” she said against, voice rising in slight panic.

Trapped. I’m trapped. Help me.

He ripped her arm towards him. Venus hissed in his face, reeling back to try and-

A squeal. A cry of loyalty and anger. A sound that made her heart sing in gratitude and palpitate in fear.

A massive blue ikran pinned Quaritch to the ground, using his body to separate him from her. The striking orange stripes and dots down his wings were his mark of familiarity. She almost sobbed in relief before the rest of the squad burst into the clearing, guns raised.

Rutxïryo didn’t seem to care. He simply leaned down to Quaritch’s face, opened his jaws, and roared.

Quaritch at least had the sense to lay still under the beast, allowing him to hiss and spit.

“Venus, call it off!” shouted Wainfleet, gun pointed directly at Rutxïryo’s chest. Venus hissed.

This is a warning. This is what I am capable of. This is what we’re capable of.

She chirped, and Rutxïryo peeled himself off of the Colonel, cooing at her as he approached. The ikran pushed his forehead against her chest, giving her a small shove in greeting. He slipped his face under her arm, circling her until he stood at her shoulder. He used his beak to tug her back towards his chest, safe in the blue and white of his wings.

The marines did not lower their guns. She couldn’t blame them. Rutx was much bigger than a usual ikran, his wingspan at least a meter longer on each side. It was something that her brothers were always envious of before they bonded their own.

She sighed, choosing her next words.

Rutx extended his queue to her, and she lifted her braid to connect to him. Almost instantly, he flooded her brain.

They were not speaking the same language. It was hard to explain how she could feel what he was telling her, but the emotions materialized into words easily in her head.

Of course, nearly eight years of partnership had honed their bond.

Are you alright? Do you want me to kill him? I’ll kill him. He’s your father? That one, really? He looks tasty. Is your arm ok? Are you sure? It feels hurt. You look tired. We should take a nap.

She brushed his smooth skin, looking into one of his eyes.

You will not eat him, if you try and hurt him you will die.

And his answer made her heart crack.

I do not mind.

She turned her attention back to the recombinants.

“The tracker in my arm will lead you to where you need to go. You scoff at my advice, you mock my way. Let’s see how you enjoy traveling on your own.”

She leapt up onto Rutxïryo’s back easily, settling herself into the saddle. It must have been on since she went foraging, she realized, and she reached a hand under the leather to itch his skin.

Quaritch stood. “You’re not going anywhere. Get off the ikran, now.” he commanded.

If she had been one of his soldiers, it would have worked. But she saw the bluff in his eyes.

“Then shoot me, Ranger Rick.” she said as she flipped her visor down.

Rutxïryo let out a cry of victory and glee as they took off into the sky, racing to the clouds.

༄

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