#Chimera Subject Files

[diejager]

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people. 

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility. 

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need. 

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers. 

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked. 

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border. 

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch. 

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage. 

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale. 

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use. 

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration. 

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening. 

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects. 

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them. 

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost. 

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children. 

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything. 

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power. 

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful. 

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34. 

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive. 

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful. 

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant. 

What did Laswell sign them into? 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

[outcastpack]

WIP Wednesday Thursday Game (by @kedreeva)

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, send me a message to ask!

Tagged by @equallyloyalandlethal

File names

Liam's Bi crisis

IWDIAOOY rewrite

IWDIAOOY - Nalecett?

Sceo/Thiam Star wars au (scenes)

Prison angst

Snippet from IWDIAOOY-Nalecett

"What the hell does that even mean?" Alec asked, squinting up at the lacrosse player with confusion. Nothing Brett was saying was making any sense. Hell, he didn't even know why Brett had come here to see him now that Nolan was gone and out the picture.

"I mean, I was jealous of you, yeah. We both know how infuriatingly adorable Nolan can be." Brett said, repeating things that they've both known for over a year now, Brett's want slash crush on Nolan was fairly apparent, to all but the oblivious blonde.

Hell, it's why Brett even hung out with them, getting whatever chance he could to get close to Nolan even if he was with Alec himself at the time and making that crush known to the smaller shaggy haired boy.

Alec's eyes widened a little as Brett stepped closer into his space and peered down at him with some kind of look that he couldn’t decipher. "But I was also jealous of Nolan too."

What? Why would Brett be jealous of Nolan? They had both got scholarships, and Alec wasn't blind to see that Brett was subjectively the better player out of the two of them.

He couldn't think of any reason that Brett would be jealous of -

Almost as if he could see the unasked question behind Alec’s eyes, Brett finally spoke.

"He got to have you." Brett whispered with a gentleness the boy had never, ever seen or heard from the tall player, an almost shy smile joining the softness.

Tagging

@transdunbar @wolfboy88 @thiamsxbitch @chasing-chimeras @theoceanismyinkwell @ksbbb @hemlocksandfoxgloves @raekensarcher

[earth-93]

BRIGADE FILES: MIMIC

Stars & Stripes Hotline [Version 1.12]

C: \login\BuddyHolly

C:\Users\mini\BrigadeFiles\Xmen

Directory of C: \BrigadeFiles\Xmen

04/27/2006 9:48 AM Total Files Listed: 15 File(s) 168,248 bytes

Directory of C:\BrigadeFiles\Xmen\RANKIN_CALVIN.txt

[file data =

Main Alias/Moniker: Mimic

Legal Name: Calvin Montgomery Rankin

Other Aliases: Cal

Date of Birth: February, 19th 1987 (Age: 19)

Status: Alive

Species: Human Mutate

Sex: Male

Gender: Cisgender

Height/Weight: 5'10 (1.78m) [Varies] / 173 lbs (78.47kg) [Varies]

Hair/Eye Color: Brown / Brown

Timeline (1987 - 1997): I don't have a personal connection to Calvin. Bobby and Logan have more of a bond with him than I. Still, our lives were intertwined for a brief but critical point. It's this among other reasons that I took it upon myself to draft his file, despite some of the subject matter still creating discomfort for me. For someone who has had so little control over his life, I felt I owed it to him, the closest person who can relate to his experience, to try and put it on record.

According to retrieved medical documents, Calvin inherited a glandular disorder from his mother. A genetic defect that can affect one's heart rate and blood pressure. Calvin's mother was diagnosed with the condition posthumously, as she suffered cardiac arrest shortly after giving birth to him. As a single parent whose child was in need of full-time care, Dr. Rankin was put in a vulnerable spot, one that was eventually exploited by Essex.

I don't know enough about Ronald Rankin to confidently judge his character. Even him taking employment under Essex could stem from financial insecurity, and his disappearance and presumed death could further suggest he eventually objected to Essex's treatment of his son, and was promptly disposed of. The full details will forever be lost, and whatever the circumstances the outcome was that Calvin ended up in the same lower levels of Essex's hospital that I was around that time, conducting the experiments on mutant traits that wouldn't compliment his public persona of "Nathan Millbury."

I've suspected that, through Calvin, Essex sought to refine his "chimera" experiments: The grafting of mutant genes, that he had long ago applied to himself, into a non-mutant body. Rather than splicing specific genes into Calvin, Essex altered his endocrine system to make his body able to absorb and mimic not much mutant traits, but potentially all superhuman traits. If my suspicions were true, them Calvin was nothing but a guinea pig. A trial run of a procedure Essex intended to then apply on himself. Fortunately, his plans never went that far, as Calvin escaped Essex's captivity the same way I did, when the first manifestation of my optic blasts blew a hole in the wall.

Timeline (1997 - 2003): The specifics of Calvin's activity between his escape and his first interactions with us are unclear. I can attest that Essex and his contacts made great efforts to scrub the children he experimented on from public records, so any accomodations Calvin might have fallen into have been difficult to find. It can be inferred that whatever living situation Calvin found himself was brief, and he largely spent this period mobile. Due to his trauma, his glandular condition as well as his newfound powers, Calvin's threshold for stress was considerably low, and as a means of survival his interpersonal skills were boiled down to either manipulation or confrontation. Though his powers more closely qualify him as a Mutate, as this was the peak of mutant-related discourse Calvin came to recognize himself as such. So once the X-Men came into prominence, Calvin developed a fixation on us.

Timeline (2003): Calvin's first encounter with us was through Bobby. He befriended him privately, under the half-truth of being a mutant runaway who looked up to Bobby. Bobby felt alienated with the rest of the team at the time, and was susceptible to Calvin's manipulations. Calvin's intentions were to mimic the entire team's powers, and he very nearly succeeded. The more he tried to absorb, the more taxing and unwieldy it became for him to maintain all of them. What broke Calvin was when he attempted to drain and mimic Jean's powers—specifically, her powers without the mental blocks she still had at that point. Calvin was so clearly in pain, we all dropped our guards and offered to help him, but Calvin instead overpowered us in one last feat and fled.

The powers Calvin absorbed eventually regressed from inactivity, but it nonetheless took a toll on his body. He went on a brief robbing spree, breaking into pharmacies and stealing sedatives to try and numb his pain. Before any of us could track him down, he was first found by Phillip Masters, aka The Puppet Master. Masters used Calvin as a stratagem, threatening his life if we didn't make use of our contacts with the Fantastic Four and give him access into the Baxter Building. Jean and I played along with this, bringing Calvin into the Baxter Building under the pretense of requesting consultation with Dr. Richards, while the Professor and the rest of the team tracked down Masters' psychic signature.

Masters' goal was to acquire an android built by him and an associate that the Fantastic Four was in possession of at the time. We did have to feign being the aggressors for a brief moment, but once the rest of the team tracked down and detained Masters, Calvin's life was no longer under threat and the act could be dropped. Even when Masters attempted to retaliate with the unleashed android, its own mimicry powers were cancelled out once confronted by Calvin, thus ending the threat of the situation completely. Calvin briefly resided at the Mansion with us, where we first got the best sense of his powers.

Though understandably shaken in the aftermath, Calvin appeared responsive enough to nod along to the Professor's offers to provide him care. He would mimic Jean's powers, this time with a greater sense of control, and glee yet again. Calvin would later say of this that his involvement with Masters left him in a state of despair, unwilling to trust anyone but himself lest he be taken advantage of once more. He resumed his life on the run, but maintained his fixation on us in spite of his supposed mistrust. When we went mobile after Bobby fled to San Francisco, Calvin trailed behind us, and only intervened when we nearly approached our destination.

Camping outside of Las Vegas for the night, we unwittingly came into contact with the Hulk, and a fight broke out. Calvin intervened when it appeared the Hulk was gaining the upper hand, boldly grappling the Hulk and absorbing his Gamma radiation. It was enough for us to be able to disarm the Hulk, but it also left Calvin suddenly deathly ill. Hank's quick thinking led to Logan making contact with Calvin, and by mimicking Logan's healing factor was able to naturally process the radiation.

After we all gathered our bearings, an idea had formed amongst us: That through a more focused application of Calvin's absorption and Logan's healing factor, we could potentially cure Dr. Banner of being the Hulk altogether. There was some brief contention on whether to go through with this idea, but what settled it was Calvin's consent in his role in the procedure. He said to us he was ready to repent his past misdeeds and sought to do good, and by all accounts he was sincere in that claim. In the middle of the procedure, however, his fight or flight instincts compelled him to attempt to absorb Dr. Banner's Gamma entirely, likely thinking that gaining the Hulk's nigh invulnerability would end any concern over his survival.

Jean intervened when this subterfuge became clear, and through that telepathic contact Dr. Banner's Gamma was inexplicably transfered into her. While the rest of us fell under the influence of Jean who then went out to confront the military convoy out searching for the Hulk, it ended being Logan, out of all of us, who met Calvin at his level and succeeded in reasoning with him. Once the situation with Jean and Dr. Banner was resolved, Logan stayed behind with Calvin as the rest of us continued our journey into California.

At time of writing, Calvin is residing on Muir Island, receiving treatment both for his powers as well as his antisocial tendencies.

/file data]

[apricusnights]

Stories from the past #3.

Time: Present day.

Location: A campsite in one of the forests deep in Smokey Gardens.

A group of Apricus university students are spending the week out in nature. The group of four are sitting around their campfire as night begins to fall.

"I swear to creation if you try and sing one of those dumbass songs again.."

"What, I brought my guitar and everything!"

"Just because you can play doesn't mean you can sing. I've heard raccoons carry a tune better than you."

"Fine fine, so what are we doin? Story time? Same rules as before? Everyone takes a turn?"

"Alright, I'll go first.."

"You ever hear the stories about what happened out here round a decade or so ago? Probably not Bureau does it's best to cover it up. Everyone saw those old buildings when we were hiking earlier right? From what I hear it's what's left of an old off the records Bureau facility."

"See the Bureau was still goin through all the files they had leftover from the war. They had some facilities built out here to keep away from the general public. Don't know what they bribed the Union with to stay out here but I imagine it was somethin good."

"All sorts of weird experiments went on in there. Maybe they were trying to create a version of chimeras they could control, maybe they were manipulating DNA or somethin..who knows. Unethical stuff."

"One day one of those crackpot scientists created something so horrific they were ordered to eliminate it on the spot. Only problem was..that creature escaped it's cage, went on a rampage, slaughtered everyone in the facility, wrecked the labs, and ran off into the woods."

"Some folks say it was some poor low rank soldier they experiments on, spliced in this and that, turned them into a part human, part animal monstrosity."

"Like a werewolf?"

"Kind of, but think of one of those that never changes back and forth."

"Oh like the Dogman!"

"Where do you think those stories came from? The Bureau had to cover everything up so they let people run with all those different theories, figuring everyone would just dismiss it as bullshit. In truth there's somethin runnin around out there and it don't wanna be found. But you better hope it doesn't wanna find you either."

"Hear a story about a group camping out here that heard somethin in the middle of the night. All they saw was some shadow looming over their tent. Authorities found the campsite torn apart and pieces of the campers..everywhere.."

"Did you hear that?"

"Don't tell me you're.."

"Shh...what the fuck is that noise?"

"I uh..maybe we should call it a night..everyone get back in the RV.."

Time: Eleven years ago.

Location: PWSB medical facility.

"What the fuck even happened to her.."

Alarms were blaring as several doctors wheeled..what was left of a newer recruit into an operating room.

"Breach at the wall, wave of Chimeras took them by surprise. The recruits fought em off best they could before the reinforcements got there. Some of em weren't so lucky.."

"Creation...there's hardly anything left.."

"Just try! It's our job to try and save them!"

Time went by with no success. The patient was on life support but would likely never recover.

In the middle of the night, the door to the room opened, two individuals stepping in.

"What you're inquiring about isn't exactly the most ethical of things Cybele."

"Don't talk to me about ethics Windsor. We both know the Bureau won't listen to reason about projects that could benefit everyone."

"Are you entirely sure your ideas will work.."

"The person on that table is going to die if we do nothing..."

The two scientists wheeled the patient out and into another wing of the facility.

"I've gotten everything you needed Cybele. From this point on you're on your own."

Systems are functional. Memory loading...warning..fatal error has occurred..

"Who..what..am I?"

Answer to query: Project Viceroy

"Viceroy.."

Warning..subject unstable..

[evoldir]

Fwd: Graduate position: UMainz.AntsGenomics

Begin forwarded message: > From: evoldir@evol.biology.mcmaster.ca > Subject: Graduate position: UMainz.AntsGenomics > Date: 12 April 2024 at 06:07:42 BST > To: rdmpage@gmail.com > > > PhD position to study male chimerism in yellow crazy ants [Mainz, > Germany] > > > We are inviting applications for a PhD position to investigate male > chimerism in the yellow crazy ant. This position is immediately > available and has secured funding for three years. The successful > applicant will conduct their research in the research group of Hugo > Darras at the Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz, Germany. > > Sexual reproduction is widespread in eukaryotes, but alternative > reproductive systems, such as female or male clonality, have evolved > repeatedly across various taxa. Our group investigates the proximate > and ultimate mechanisms that drive transitions between different > reproductive systems in ants. We recently discovered an extraordinary > reproductive system in the yellow crazy ant. In this species, males > are all chimeras carrying maternal and paternal genomes in different > body cells (https://ift.tt/o3NOeUK). > Chimerism occurs when parental nuclei bypass syngamy and divide > separately within the same egg. > > The PhD student will investigate the genomic, molecular, and cellular > bases of chimerism. Candidates should have a strong interest in > genomics and/or cell biology, ideally with bioinformatics or > microscopy experience. The details of the project can be tailored > towards the research interest of the candidate.  Training in > evolutionary biology and experience with ants are advantageous, but > not mandatory. This position is supported by the DFG for three > years. The PhD student will be able to join the GenEvo graduate > program (https://ift.tt/JReqncB), which fosters a supportive > community of graduate students and offers comprehensive training > in molecular and evolutionary biology. The host department has a > dynamic and inclusive environment, welcoming candidates from all > backgrounds. > > To apply for this PhD position, please submit a motivation letter, > including a possible start date, a CV, and the contact details of > two referees. Please compile all these documents into a single PDF > file and submit it by May 11, 2024, to hdarras@uni-mainz.de. > > > Hugo Darras  - > https://ift.tt/ds4Y5an > > > > > "Darras, Dr. Hugo"

[assignmentimprobable]

MI: Dead Reckoning Part I & MGS2′s Prediction of The Information Age

I rewatched the MI:7 trailer for um reasons (see: the smokeshow of a cast) and something stood out to me. Kittridge’s line, about how this was their chance to control the truth: the concepts of right and wrong for centuries to come. What’s so fascinating about it is its relevance in the digital age, where mis and dis-information is rampant. Where narratives of the truth are easily twisted and context is something you have to make an active effort to find when paywalls and the spin of corporate media are abundant. I thought back to another series, one that I’d say was more than influenced by Mission Impossible: Metal Gear Solid. Specifically its 2nd entry - Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty. 

To give a brief rundown of it for anybody who hasn’t played the game, at the core of the background antagonists are colloquially known as The Patriots. Using "Arsenal Gear", an advanced data-processing system built from a stolen Metal Gear, the Patriots seek to seize control of the "context" by monitoring and censoring content on the internet, while also having access to the country’s nuclear weapons cache. The problems of Nuclear proliferation and the manipulation of narratives are deeply ingrained in the lore of the series. See, what Hideo Kojima posited in 2001 was that this new access to mass-media and information would come with a susceptibility to narratives crafted for the sole purpose of disinformation - see: control. Controlling the narrative, and by extension the public’s perception through government construction of history, that construction will go on to reshape the climate by its mere existence. His answer to this was to suggest that we find our own context and define what it means to us, finding identity on our own terms.

Enter Mission: Impossible - The consequences of Nuclear proliferation have loomed massively in the background of the 2nd phase of the MI series. Fallout is an extremely potent example of this. The arm’s race is gonna keep on arming, you know? Brinkmanship out the door, and through the opening comes the disillusioned agents of the state with a means to manipulate the social geography. Though back to our subject at hand, Dead Reckoning Part I and Kittridge’s line... What makes it so interesting, the convergence between the “truth” and the IMF’s desire to contextualize it for the public- isn’t that a natural extension of what they do? Real-time context manipulation through masks, movie style sets, deception. They are experts in the field of this, on a smaller scale. Increasing the payload is grounds for a *stamps file* disavowal! What Kittridge is suggesting, this wide-scale manipulation and redefinition of the truth, it’s being the pupil of a much bigger eye.  Something that Ethan is going to have a contentious relationship with, to say the least, as an agent of that deception and also someone whose entire drive is acting in the best interests of everyone around him on HIS terms. Protecting the identity of the NOC lists inhabitants, not killing a Chimera infected Nyah (who stands to unleash a plague by staying alive) and racing the clock to give her the cure, taking down Lane’s Rogue Nation, preventing the nuke detonations. This thread is something that I think is going to be super relevant for the political climate we’re currently living in if the movie involves it in more detail. 

I’m not going to presume anything about Dead Reckoning Pt. 1 because: A.) It hasn’t come out yet and B.) The trailer has only given us so much.

Butbutbut... I for one am looking forward to what McQuarrie and Co have in store for us. I really want to see what big conclusions the movie and Ethan comes to, if any. 

[bunchamunchafaunus]

CHIMERA PROJECT; SUBJECT FILE: 251-B “BOON”

Status of Subject: Living

Location of Subject: Confinement Room B

Gender: N/A

Age: N/A

Height: 5′ 0″

Weight: 120 lbs

Race: Faunus

Included Genetics:

- Coronella Austriaca (Smooth Snake)

- Takydromus Sexlineatus (Long-Tailed Lizard)

- Monitor Lizard

- Furcifer Pardalis (Panther Chameleon)

- Sphenodon Punctatus (Tuatara)

Subject Description:

Subject 251-B, or “Boon” as it’s keeper has nicknamed it, is the first success in the Chimera Project. Furthermore, 251-B is the only living subject of test #251 which was carried out on twins. 251-A did not survive the first round of modifications.

251-B measures five feet tall when standing upright. Their skin scaled, silver grey in color, and smooth to the touch. Their body is rather small despite original expectations, but possesses enough muscle mass and fat that there is no worry about the subject’s physical health. 

The subject’s body was originally that of a female, but due to some of the treatments they received, it has become difficult to tell whether the subject is male or female from first glance. Though while they still possess their original anatomy, they have become infertile. The specifics on how and why will not be discussed in his file.

Low on their back, an inch above their buttock, a thin, five-foot long tail extends out and down from the body to a tapered point. The result of the Takydromus Sexlineatus Faunus DNA. Subject 251-B’s tail is fully prehensile, as we hoped with the addition of the Furcifer Pardalis Faunus DNA. The tail is also covered entirely with the same scales as the rest of their body.

Subject’s eyes are bright blue with vertical slit pupils. This allows 251-B to be able to see a wider range of colors. They also seem to be able to track movement of others quite well. On top of this, while no-one has seen it in person, security camera footage has shown that their pupils can dilate. This likely allows for the subject to be able to see better in lower light.

It is also theorized by their keeper that such change in the pupil also occurs whenever the subject is looking at something they like. This can be backed by the fact that 251-B’s pupils tend to be dilated when they are given their meals and while they are eating. Though there has yet to be any other scenario where the subject’s pupils have been dilated.

Subject 251-B’s mouth is similar to that of any other Human or Faunus, and contains the same teeth, however there are four extra rows of teeth. These extra rows are only slightly longer than the normal ones, about a quarter of an inch, and are curved to a sharp, pointed end. However, upon further study, it turns out these aren’t like normal teeth, as they are part of the subject’s jaws. Likely the result of the Sphenodon Punctatus Faunus DNA.

251-B’s Tongue is also different from that of a Human’s or any non-reptilian Faunus, being thin and forked instead. Measurements have shown that it is able to extend six inches out of their mouth. They tend to extend the tongue, flicking it through the air rapidly for less than a second before retracting it whenever anyone is near them, or they are in a new, unfamiliar location.

Tests have revealed that this is done because, like their animal counterparts, they have sensory organs within the roof of their mouth. Though the subject’s sensory organ is smaller than it should be given their size in comparison, likely due to anatomical differences. Due to this, it is not as useful as that of their counterparts. Still, it allows for them to become more aware of their surroundings and of certain scents.

Down the center of the Subject’s chest is a long, somewhat deep scar. This is from experiments and testing that has been done, and the incision made healed perfectly. There is another, smaller scar similar to this on the back of their neck.

[vegalocity]

3 for Civilian AU Spicynoodles or Chimera, your choice.

Sensory prompts

a shimmer of water droplets in the sun

So i don't have any Chimera Civillian AUs in specific just yet, but i do have a BUNCH of Spicynoodle ones cuz y'all sent some great ones in, so this one is based on that really cute podcast idea someone sent in

--

“See that's the thing when you're painting sunshine, when it reflects it reflects pure.” His voice was like a cool breeze along the towering inferno of Red Son's overactive thoughts. The Mysterious 'MK'—host of a podcast Red Son had started on a whim yet had quickly jumped into his top three favorite channels—had a voice like fucking caramel and Red Son like always when a new episode had come out and was waiting for his afternoon classes to start getting near, had his head in his folded arms and eyes closed as he let himself enjoy being talked at about a subject he knew so little about as art.

He could practically see the dewdrops on the leaf as MK described them to him (The audience, not to him, he refused to develop a parasocial relationship with a podcast), the pale color the green beneath the water would turn, the use of a light yellow instead of white as to better make the dewdrops flicker in the sun instead of the white gleam of electric light.

He sensed the approach of another and roused from his light trance, pausing the audio file just as Qi Xiaotian strolled up to his table, a small bowl of noodles (with as much spice as humanly possible as per Red Son's under-stimulated tongue's desire) He'd told him directly he was just a delivery driver the first day they'd met and gotten talking, so he didn't know why Xiaotian tended to give him the full 'waiter' experience when there was a lull in deliveries, but he wasn't about to complain about getting to talk with a handsome acquaintance whose voice was somehow just as kind on his abused ears as the mysterious MK's was.

“Order up, with literally so much heat I choked just by smelling it.” Xiaotian gave two theatrical coughs into his elbow as he placed the bowl down in front of him.

“Well, thank you for braving through it for my sake.” Red Son responded, but just as he was about to dig in, Xiaotian leaned in and spoke up again.

“...Is that... 'MKs Easel'?” his gaze darted to his phone and sure enough he title of the podcast was still lit up for all to see. It wasn't exactly something he was particularly embarrassed to be listening to, but something about Xiaotian's tone made him suddenly very self conscious indeed.

“Uhm... yes? You listen to it too?” Xiaotian coughed into his hand again, this time as more of an awkward thing.

“Uh... yeah I guess...” was he.. blushing? Why would he have such a strong reaction? “Didn't peg you for an art guy, you're normally working on blueprints and stuff.”

“I can like other things-” he was joking in his semi offended tone, but Xiaotian's face turned even more red and Red Son wasn't sure if that meant his joke had landed or not, so he added on, more seriously. “I find the host's voice calming. When you're in STEM you have to deal with a lot of 'grinding machinery' noises and the hustle and bustle of Uni, and MK's tone is soothing after a few hours of that.” If anything it seemed as though he'd made it worse. “...Are you alright?”

“Fine!” Xiaotian yelped “I uh- WhatsthatPigsyIhaveanotherdeliveryupOkaygottarunseeyoutomorrowRed!” and then he was gone.

Red Son hummed for a second, that was... odd.

Oh well.

He pressed play and dug into his food, MK in his ear going on to describe the way the artist had used the shades of blue for the flowers.

--

Send me stuff

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Community Health Services sued its way through the pandemic

Last Jan, Northwell Health was the subject of a viral New York Times story about the thousands of patients it had sued over medical debt, in the midst of a pandemic. The publicity was so bad that the company abandoned its legal campaign of terror.

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/05/nyregion/coronavirus-medical-debt-hospitals.html

But not every bloated, financialized hospital chain got the message. The massive chain Community Health Systems has long been addicted to suing the shit out of its patients, and the pandemic didn’t change that.

https://edition.cnn.com/2021/05/17/us/hospital-lawsuits-pandemic-invs/index.html

CHS’s financial crimes are investigated in a must-read CNN story by Casey Tolan. While the company insists that it doesn’t sue poor patients over their medical debts, Tolan debunks this claim, revealing the cruel and ugly lengths CHS has gone to during the pandemic.

CHS is a kind of poster child for the idiocy of finacializing the health care system. For years, its corporate owners have pursued profit though endless, disastrous mergers that have left it saddled with debt and resulted in the closure of many community hospitals.

Every year, CHS lost money…until 2020. That’s the year that fed and state governments gave it $705m in pandemic-related aid and millions more in forgiven loans.

CHS turned its first profit — $511m — last year.

But much of that money was spoken for in advance, because its top execs took home multimillion-dollar “performance bonuses” for having the genius strategy of getting a gigantic bailout for their stupid, bungling, unweildy chimera of a hospital chain.

Small wonder, then, that CHS — already notorious as one of the country’s worst medical debt chasers — stepped up its collection lawsuits against sick, unemployed and terrified people.

Despite the company’s policy of not suing people who lost their jobs during the pandemic, nor those earning less than 200% of the national poverty line, CHS did just that, repeatedly — and then blamed its victims for not filing the right paperwork.

But again, the record is replete with CHS customers who mailed letters and made phone calls begging the hospital not to sue. CHS filed at least 24,000 lawsuits in 2020. Experts call CHS “among the most litigious” of all US hospital chains.

CNN spoke to many of CHS’s victims, like, Richard Piper, who earns $525/week and supports two daughters and several grandchildren. He was ordered to pay CHS $34,894 in medical debt, as well as $3500 in legal fees to CHS’s lawyers.

CHS sued an unnamed Oklahoma woman who, laid off, begged them to stop trying to collect the $781 she owed because if she paid it, she would end up homeless. CHS prevailed, and the court nearly doubled that debt by tacking on court and legal fees.

CHS sued Jennifer Alegria — a single mom with two daughters who works as a chef — to recover $146000 from her double mastectomy. Alegria earns less than $40k/year.

When CHS wins its lawsuits, it typically moves swiftly to place liens on its victims’ homes and garnish their wages. Those wages are typically sub-poverty to begin with: the most common employer for a CHS victim is…Walmart.

When CHS trumpeted its profitable year to shareholders, it also warned that it expected to lose some of its debt-collection revenue, thanks to “a deterioration in the collectability of patient accounts…as the result of adverse economic conditions arising from the pandemic.”

CHS warned shareholders about “a deterioration in collectibility” because debt is central to its strategy.

For example, after acquiring St Petersburg, FL’s oldest hospital, Bayfront, it realized it had made a mistake and quickly sold the hospital off.

But CHS retained Bayfront’s debts, and continues to sue patients who owe money for treatment in a hospital it no longer owns.

CHS bought and then shuttered Shands Lake Shore Regional Medical Center, the only hospital in Lake City, FL. Though the hospital is long gone, its doctors and nurses fired, CHS continues to employ its debt-collection department, which sued 86 patients during the pandemic.

CHS’s long run of idiotic mergers has left it with $7.6b in debt. In business terms, this is a company in a persistent vegetative state with no hope of recovery. The cruel and extraordinary measures it has pursued to stave off death — suing patients — are doomed.

Suing over debts as small as $201 (!) will not save this dying business. What’s more, CHS’s indiscriminate legal harassment is creating more liabilities: when CHS patients can afford to hire lawyers to represent them, they “win their cases fairly easily.”

CHS’s debt collection depends on attacking people who can’t afford to defend themselves, in other words.

Take Jeffery Turgeon, who owes CHS $20,784, who petitioned the company for mercy with a handwritten letter on notebook paper.

He now owes the full amount, plus $180 in court costs. He’s paying $100/month. It would take 17 years to pay the debt at that rate — but thanks to the 8% interest, the payments will stretch on for years after that.

Turgeon’s fiancee Jennifer Matheson lost her hospice job during the pandemic. They can no longer afford even such small pleasures as taking their children to McDonald’s.

CHS was once the largest hospital chain in America. It’s still in the top ten. It has bought and destroyed hospitals across the country, paid millions to its executives, and sued the shit out of its patients.

Tell me again about how the private sector does a great job running the health-care system?

[where-dreamers-go]

“An Officer In-Between” Grand Admiral Thrawn x Fem!Reader

(A/N: Finally got around to typing this one up and out of my notebook. Here’s my first real attempt at writing Thrawn. I hope I did him some justice. I had fun writing something different. The Thrawn books are on my wishlist. Also…this has been sitting on the computer waiting for its turn to be uploaded..since last year? I just wanted something cute.

Romance ahead.

Word Count: 1,350)

A galaxy of dreamers, workers, heroes, villains, scum, bounty hunters, rebels, and imperials was a large place indeed.

You were an officer aboard the Chimera and had been a part of her crew for just shy a year. You were in deep. You knew the hallways, shift changes, when cargo was brought onboard, other officers, and the Grand Admiral himself.

The tall handsome chiss lead the crew with strategic diligence. He was impressive. More so than you thought you would learn.

Although you and Thrawn had been seeing one another exclusively for many rotations, you had been a member of the Rebellion much longer. A Rebel intelligence officer. Tasked with gathering vital information that could be used against the Galactic Empire was a heavy weight on your shoulders. Especially when your heart shared itself between the Rebellion and Thrawn. A pull you felt each moment you woke up and when you put your head down to sleep.

One day after a shift, you had downloaded information from the ship’s log. No one had seen you nor did you miss a beat in your routine. You hid the small storage device well in your quarters. The movements were not new to you.

The following night you found yourself taking space on Thrawn’s bed. It was not the first night you spent in his quarters after a good meal and various conversations. He insisted it was better for your health. Officer beds were not nearly as comfortable as a Grand Admiral’s. He knew well of your working hours and had not pressured you the first time he suggested such sleeping arrangements. He had asked for nothing in return.

You were resting your eyes and enjoying the coolness of the sheets as your handsome chiss was exiting the refresher. Your back was to him as he made his way to his preferred side. There was a moment of absolute silence before he slid into bed.

A warm hand was placed over your hip. It was soon paired with a breathy kiss to your ear.

Pressing your lips together you repressed any sounds. He had a way of sending shivers down your spine.

Galactic Empire? Rebellion? Neither of the names nor the battles were allowed to bother you while you spent time with Thrawn. After getting to know him, truly know him, you decided to push labels to the side.

You had a mission, yes, however you were not one to ignore your heart. It never steered you wrong. Listening to your heart helped lead you to Thrawn. Even through all of his work ethic, he noticed your interest in him quite early on.

Having a highly intelligent Imperial lover only made hiding your allegiance extremely difficult.

Lips lightly pulled on your earlobe.

“Mmm,” your hands clutched the bedsheet, “we should really get some sleep.”

“True, but you enjoy extra displays of affection right before bed.”

You tucked your face into the pillow.

Goodness, was he right.

Those nights away from him made you realize just how much you cared for him, loved to be with him. Wished to not part from him.

One final kiss, to your temple, and Thrawn pulled away completely. Even the hand he had on your hip.

Yet you did not hear him lay down.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Officer (Y/L/N)?” His tone was calm, but the use of your rank unnerved you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Not the good kind.

Did he already know? Was he talking about something else?

Who were you kidding? He was Thrawn.

Sitting up in bed you kept the sheets to your chest.

You were in delicate territory.

“Probably…..a few things.”

Thrawn dropped something small onto your lap.

A small hard drive.

Your stomach dropped.

“Were you planning to hide this in the cargo hold like the others to be picked up or were you planning on delivering my ship’s files personally?”

“Kriff.”

You tossed the object off of the bed.

“I confiscated the three empty ones.”

“Thrawn—.”

“How long did you plan on continuing this charade? Until you sent out all of the hard drives?”

You hunched forward, fingers pressing into your scalp.

“I was doing my mission. I have tasks.”

“Then what? What was your long-term goal, (Y/N)? You are an officer on my ship regardless of how you gained access into the Empire. If you completed your mission, what would you do next?”

“I don’t know.”

Thrawn clicked his tongue.

“Highly unlikely. You are one of the most prepared and organized people I know. You had a plan. You had orders.”

You kept your head down, unable to face him.

“I was instructed to leave only when appropriate and only after my mission was complete.”

“Was bedding a Grand Admiral a part of your mission?”

“No,” you quickly turned to face him. “Thrawn, no. That was—what we’re doing…”

Your gaze fell to the mattress.

If only you could tell him everything.

“Thrawn….if my superiors found out…kriff. I would be demoted so fast. They probably—no—they would definitely deny me access to communications. I’d have to start all over, but in the negatives obviously. I probably wouldn’t make custodial let alone private.”

“When do they expect you to return? You had three hard drives left.”

“Three months ago,” you answered without missing a beat.

“Late. That’s very unlike you.”

Thrawn’s hand caressed the skin between your shoulder blades.

A frown made it’s way to your face.

“Did you take the others? The ones I put in the empty cargo containers.”

“I did.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“…you’ve known this whole time.” You stared ahead.

“Only after I took an interest in you.”

“The first initial interest or when you developed romantic interest?”

“Romantic interest,” he kissed your neck.

Your breath hitched.

Thrawn’s lips traveled up to the shell of your ear. Gentle, but alluring.

“Why haven’t you done anything? I’m….the enemy.” The last word caught in your throat.

“I’ve done my share,” his free hand went to your hip furthest from him. “You have a flawless record here. I’ve promoted you. I’ve come to know you at a deeper level. Intimately. I refuse to hold a label over you.”

“A label…You’re not going to push me away? I haven’t told you the truth.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me about using half-truths? You’ve never lied to me. Not that you could,” he kissed your temple.

“You’re…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love that you’re not pushing me away—or worse, but you’re not asking me to pick a side?”

Two cerulean hands cradled your face and a pair of cherry-red eyes met your gaze.

“Asking you to choose between two of your passions or loyalties would be narrow-minded. I would not ask that of you.” His lips brushed your forehead. “I adore the complex person before me and I wouldn’t want to lose you over something neither of us have full control over.”

You sighed, “you’re something else, you know that?”

“Yes. I needed to make sure we both understood one another.”

“By scaring me.”

“You needed to know that I had evidence.”

“Right before we go to sleep?”

“You’re a Rebel spy. You handled it well.”

Raising your eyes briefly, you released the bedsheet and pushed against Thrawn’s chest.

He fell back, willingly, onto the bed. Cherry-red eyes watching your every move.

“Rebel Intelligence. You had already planned on everything working out and staying up longer, didn’t you?”

He smirked.

“Why am I even surprised?”

“You didn’t think too hard on the subject.” He brought you closer, easing you to lay down. “You hate worrying.”

You nudged your nose into the crook of his neck and murmured, “I adore you.”

“And I adore you.” He hummed.

Rebellion or Empire? You were starting to realize that your position was not directly in either and that Thrawn had known that for much longer.

. . .

Your eyes snapped open.

“They never got the hard drives.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.

~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle )

[viiixn]

KC&C PROJECT FILES

subject: INCUBATION - SUCCESS / FAILURE file log #2, 1958, APRIL attempt #36:  2A-00 classification: ANIMAL HUSBANDRY, SONG OF MAKING species:  FELINAE ( lynx ), PTEROPUS ( megabat ), DENDROBATIDAE ( dendrobatidae ), CHAMAELEONIDAE ( acrodonta ),  HEMIDACTYLUS FRENATUS ( house gecko ), CANIS ( canis lupis ),  VULPES ( vulpes lagopus ),  VARANUS ( varanus komodoensis ),  PAN PANISCUS ( primate ) rank: CHIMERA

gestation period: 36 WEEKS. FETAL GROWTH: 18.66 in,  5.78 lbs, 47.4cm, 2622 grams

from the moment she could open her eyes, three months into her development, all she was aware of was the beeping of monitors, the passing of white cloaks and distorted voices. there was one in particular that spent a lot of time around her. opalescent colored eyes tracked every minute detail of this cloak’s activity when within range. the tone of the voice, the subtle note of something primal and nurturing. this cloak’s attendance was abnormal in its frequency, almost to the point that towards the end she was almost exclusive. that’s when a darker form began to ‘visit’. dark and terrifying, the flashing lights and beeps would rise in volume and alarm. a silk wisp of terror in the voice that came through the tank, and in an effort to protect itself, the brain shut down. sending her into comforting darkness. and when she woke next, that white cloaked figure was always there. the familiar one. the nurturing one. the one who ferreted her  from the cocoon of liquid protection, into a world that burned in its chill and deafened in a constant volume she simply was not used to.

she will never see this cloak again, though she does remember with perfect clarity, the face. her face.

[initiatingtheheadcanons]

Scarlet

Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this fic since August because I’ve been shipping my Doctor OC named “ArtFall” which is my username in Arknights jfhdks and been shipping her with an Operator codenamed Shining.

Anyway, after a few revisions and showed it to two close friends of mine, I think I’m ready to share it. Enjoy!

Ao3: Link coming soon!

                 ____________________________________________

Series: Arknights

Summary: Dr. ArtFall doesn’t know how to express her feelings for a particular Sarkaz. More or so, it seems her powers start to awaken despite having amnesia. With some encouragement from a certain Chimera, she finds a way to finally confess.

Words: 4.6k

Genre(s): Fluff, Romance

                 ____________________________________________

Confessing isn’t easy, ArtFall is well aware of that. She’s very attuned with the other’s emotions despite being the brains behind most of Rhodes Island’s operations. Over a few months, she had taken a liking to one specific Operator. Though some of the Operators noticed, they still don’t know exactly who she’s flustering over. Rumors spread around like wildfire and ArtFall tends to dismiss anything related to the subject if asked by a curious R.I. staff or an Operator. Unfortunately for her, Amiya is the only one who figures it out and flashes a teasing smile towards the Doctor. ArtFall is impressed and flustered at the same time; Amiya having empathy powers isn't helping the Doctor’s situation. Thankfully, she always has her helmet to cover her furious heat present on her cheeks.

They are inside the briefing room at the time, occupying two chairs near the board with the written previous strategies by the Doctor herself. Amiya initiates a conversation while the rest of the squad is on the way, a spark present in her eyes.

“I think I have an idea who it is, Doctor,” Amiya starts with a mischievous smile forming on her lips. Much to ArtFall’s slight annoyance and panic, Amiya opens her mouth to say her crush’s name, “It’s Sh-“

“Hey, Amiya, Doctor!” an operator’s voice came from the doorway that remained open since the duo had entered the room. It’s Matoimaru, unbeknownst saving the Doctor’s skin.

“Hey,” Amiya and ArtFall greet in unison, the latter glancing at the Chimera who still has the playful smile.

The Oni stares at both of them and says, “Not to interrupt or anything; but what are you two talking about?”

Amiya could only giggle and ArtFall recomposes herself, saying, “Nothing important in particular. Anyways, we have important things to discuss for today’s operation. Take a seat.”

Matoimaru takes a seat on the opposite side of the table and starts chatting with Amiya. As they talk, the other Operators come in one by one - including ArtFall’s assistant, Shining, whom she gave a day off to spend time with the Followers. The Sarkaz has a pleasant smile on her face and glances at the Doctor who nodded wordlessly, taking her seat beside her.

With all the squadmates in the room, ArtFall begins to discuss the tactics against the enemies they are going to face today.

                  ____________________________________________

After another successful operation, Amiya keeps insisting ArtFall to confess to her assistant. The Doctor wonders why she hasn’t deployed her friend somewhere on the battlefield so she could have a momentary peace. Unfortunately for the Doctor, the Operators executed her plan too well. They had seized the situation in no time, so ArtFall and Amiya could sit back and watch Reunion’s minions get obliterated.

ArtFall received reports from the squad that the area is secured and clear of hostiles, she announces the operation was successful before commanding her unit to meet her and Amiya at the rendezvous point. Gentle as ever, Amiya pulls the sleeve of ArtFall’s and somewhat drags the Doctor out of enjoyment as they go down the stairs. The Doctor keeps rolling her eyes and blushing furiously as the Chimera keeps teasing her about the particular Sarkaz.

After meeting at the rendezvous point, Amiya and the medics available make sure everyone’s injuries are treated before they get back on their designated vans. ArtFall takes one last look at her squad before taking the front seat, glancing at Texas the driver of their van. She greets her with a nod before the vehicle in front of them drives away and they too move along.

The Doctor is expecting to have a lot of files dumped on her table per usual. She shakes that thought off by leaning on her seat and listening to the chattering from the backside of the van. Most of the conversations are all about the recent operation and overhearing a few Operators are talking about their other interests. In two hours, they finally reach the Ark, and ArtFall retreats to her office along with her assistant who walked by her side, greeting her with a diffident but friendly smile.

ArtFall opens the door to her office and finds her desk piled by files again. Her shoulders hunched forward as she marched towards her desk, her eyes lingering on different files awaiting for her to read them.

“Do you need any help, Doctor?” the Sarkaz asked, almost amused; settling down her things by a cabinet and putting down her sword on a weapon rack that is mostly found in every single dorm that the Doctor has decorated.

ArtFall sits on her chair and starts reading a file, “I can manage but snacks would help me through this pile of dogsh- things…”

Shining didn’t insist any further but asked, “Shall I bring you tea and cookies?” ArtFall looks up from the file, surprised that she knows her favorites and almost sinking on the chair out of pure embarrassment. “Er, sure. T-thank you.”

With that, Shining takes her to leave, closing the door behind her. ArtFall is left alone with the files she needs to work on. After a few minutes, her assistant is back with a tray containing two cups of tea and a bowl of cookies. Shining places the tray down on the table before picking up her cup of tea. Nodding in acknowledgment, ArtFall grabs a cookie and munches on it while skimming through a file.

The Sarkaz finds it intriguing that the Doctor can keep up with work just as long as she has food to munch on and not make a mess on the table either. She pulls a book from ArtFall’s shelf and begins reading to distract herself.

        - A few hours later -

It’s night time and only a few familiar lights are open in the hallway, including the familiar lights in ArtFall’s office during these hours. She mutters to herself as she tries to focus her eyes on the document on the table, fingers massaging her temples. She leans back against her office chair, closing the file at hand. ArtFall glances at her assistant, sitting on the couch and sleeping upright with a closed book clutched within her fingers.

ArtFall’s eyebrows furrowed together and attempted to remember if they had really met before, her Arts were vaguely familiar. She shakes off those thoughts, removing her helmet from her head, letting her messy hair down. She settles her helmet carefully near the pile of documents almost without care. ArtFall touches her eyepatch which conceals her power, the source of her Arts which she forgot to use; internally cursing her amnesia for the umpteenth time since she had got it.

Maybe she could ask someone around Rhodes Island to regain the control back? Dobermann is not an option, she is too harsh to recruits she contacts every week and would force her on a strict schedule. Amiya is off-limits, ArtFall could tell as she was warned by Kal’sit not to put another responsibility on the poor girl’s shoulder. Wait, what about her assis-

“Is something wrong, Doctor?” A gentle voice made her snap from her thoughts. The Doctor’s hands scrambled for her helmet with some files slipping off the edge of her table and immediately shoved it back on her head, feeling the beads of cold sweat on her forehead. Seemingly unfazed by the Doctor’s quick reaction, Shining sets the book on the couch and approaches the panicky ArtFall.

“Uh, help me pick up the files first.” ArtFall stands up to pick up the damn files scattered on the floor. Sure, she’s always been highly intelligent, but her clumsiness is all the same as Amiya describes a couple of times. Shining helps her pick up the papers and keeps them in an orderly fashion, which ArtFall doesn’t have any complaints about. After stacking them on her table, she sits on her chair again, even more exhausted.

“Doctor” Shining places her hand on ArtFall’s shoulder, “Are you alright?”

A simple question it seems but there’s a concern in her voice or… maybe she’s just imagining things? She rarely sees Shining being worried, always having calm yet have an unreadable expression.

“I’m just tired” she half-lies, hoping her assistant wouldn’t take notice. She could’ve sworn that Shining frowns at her response, not out of anger but out of iota of discontent - the corners of her lips slightly dropping from its thin line. Her hand stayed on the Doctor’s shoulder, almost squeezing as if begging and not letting her off until she told the truth. They both know that.

ArtFall gulps silently and immediately finds herself feeling guilty for lying. Well, half-lying – for the most part, she’s tired from the recent operation and scanning the files on her table for hours. The gaze of her assistant starts to weigh down her shoulders as if she could feel the unflappable intensity coming from Sarkaz's scarlet eyes.

Without a word, ArtFall sighed and reluctantly removed her helmet, Shining removing her hand from its firm place as she watched the Doctor settle her helmet yet again and, only this time, she placed it on the table carefully to not knock off the files. ArtFall sees small sparks inside Sarkaz's eyes - as if she’s amused - before looking away and awkwardly blowing off stray hair from her face.

“…I see” Shining mutters. ArtFall noticed her tone relaxed like her calm gaze, though, she’s uneasy as the medic inspects her covered eye. The Doctor gently grabs the medic’s hand and lets her touch the eye patch, her thumb brushing against the other’s calloused fingers.

“It contains a power I possessed that I had forgotten.” In response, the touch against her covered eye softens, “Perhaps you could… well, help me to regain control of it?”

The Sarkaz smiles warmly as if it’s glowing. “Of course, Doctor.”

ArtFall smiles back sheepishly and says,“Thank you.”

She subconsciously leans against the medic's palm, secretly craving for her touch, “I should get some rest now”

With that, Sarkaz pulls her hand away and ArtFall gets up from her chair. Pain suddenly began surging through her temples; crippled by the sudden feeling, she lurches forward and collapses into Shining's arms.

“I hate it when this happens,” the Doctor mutters and blushes when she realizes the Sarkaz caught her by her ribcage. She’s thankful the medic doesn't notice as she guides her to the bed on the other side of the office, ArtFall sitting while her assistant is checking on her once again.

“Nothing odd.” the Sarkaz says and prompts the Doctor to lay down. ArtFall obliges and lies on her back, staring at the blank ceiling while Shining within her peripheral view.

“Doctor, close your eyes.” the Sarkaz says softly as if whispering. The Doctor follows along and senses the medic’s hands on her temples, her headache gradually fades away and the only thing left is her fatigue. As she drifts off to sleep, she feels Shining’s hand brush some of her stray hair and feels something on her forehead in a second as if the medic leans in for a moment, followed by a peculiar scent of tea and metallic tang, possibly coming from Shining’s necklace. An embarrassing thought gradually forms in her mind but she refuses to believe it.

“Good night, Doctor”

It can’t be.

“Good night, Shining.” she mustered to say though almost like a whisper and she felt her heart flutter at the realization: Shining just gave her a kiss… on the forehead. She lays still and is tempted to open her eye after she felt Shining get up from her bed, unbeknownst that the Doctor is becoming a flustered mess.

A question boiled in her mind as her blush spread across her cheeks to the tip of her ears. Does the Sarkaz aware of her feelings or she’s feeling things because of Shining’s Arts?

She prays that the Sarkaz doesn’t see how red she is and turns her back away from her assistant, focusing on her drowsiness. Her heartbeats slow down as she gradually falls asleep.

        -Time: 7:45am -

The next morning, ArtFall wakes up by the alarm followed by a short greeting from PRTS and groans as she covers the entirety of herself with the blanket. She suddenly remembers what happened last night and sits upright, cheeks flushing and she scans her office. She is relieved that Shining isn’t there; she probably just woke up before her. ArtFall pushes herself up, walks to her office table, and puts her helmet on to cover her flushed face.

The door opens behind her and she whips around to look at who it is. It’s a good thing she covered her face in time: It’s Amiya who’s holding a clipboard and a pen, wearing a usual smile on her face.

“Good morning, Doctor!” Amiya says cheerfully, closing the door behind her, “How's your eye? Shining told me you requested her to regain control over your Arts.”

“Well,” ArtFall starts, cheeks still flushing underneath her helmet, “I just wonder how my Arts works or at least get the hang of it”

“Mhm,” The Chimera hums teasingly. “To spend time with her?”

ArtFall remains silent for a while and raises a finger. “Yes and no”

Amiya grins wider this time and clutches on the Doctor’s sleeve. “I genuinely believe that you are planning to confess during one of your private sessions, is it not?”

Wait, was that a suggestive joke, or Amiya is messing with her on purpose? She couldn’t hide anything from her empath friend that she likes Shining that much and there’s no point in lying. She mentally caved to her defeat and is ready to deal with the fallout as much as she hates to admit it.

“Amiya, please don’t let anyone know,” ArtFall admits, embarrassed as a smug Amiya clings to her shoulder and shakes it ever-so-slightly. “I don’t want the other Operators to know, hell, even Kal’sit”

Amiya lets go of her grip on ArtFall’s shoulder, looks at her clipboard, and walks towards the door whilst facing the flustered Doctor. “I won’t tell anyone, Doctor. If you don’t, I’ll make sure everyone will know about it!”

It’s a tease, ArtFall knows her friend is teasing but she had her arm outstretched to stop the Chimera from hiding from her sight.

“Amiya, don’t-!” Doctor shouts so suddenly and Amiya only giggles before closing the door behind her, ArtFall let her outstretched arm down in frustration and quietly cursed herself for being so bad at this.

                 ____________________________________________

      -Time: 1:17pm-

It’s already afternoon and ArtFall heads to the cafeteria to grab a quick lunch. Shining is dealing with a debriefing along with other Control Center assistants so the Doctor has to do things on her own for an hour or two.

The cafeteria isn’t packed as she expected, Operators probably dealing with their respective tasks or it’s already late to have lunch. A few Operators greet her as she passes by and go back to their conversations. ArtFall scans the available meals and frowns at the choices. Though not a particularly picky eater, the choices provided by the assigned chefs are needed to be consumed in the cafeteria. She grabs two sandwiches and packs of coffee sachet because she ran out of stock in her office.

“In a hurry, Doctor?” Gummy says, holding up her pan, “I made that one special!”

“Thanks, Gummy,” ArtFall says as she begins to walk away.

“No problem, Doctor!” Gummy exclaims and continues with her cooking, happily humming a tune.

ArtFall walks on the hallway alone with her helmet’s shield up, munching on her sandwich. She holds Gummy's cooking in high regard, recipe blending so well as they melted perfectly in her mouth. Before she could enter the office, Shining is on the other side of the hallway, having a conversation with Amiya. The Doctor slips into her office speedily when Amiya sees her and closes the door back to its frame, with her leaning against it. She sighs and continues eating her sandwich on her hand while staring at the files on her table, she is halfway through everything.

As she pushes herself away from the door, it opens - bumping on her back. She immediately steps out of the way and comes face to face with her assistant who seems to have been slightly tired from the debriefing.

“I apologize for bumping on you, Doctor,” she says with a hint of fatigue though her face remains calm as she closes the door - the doctor only noticing she’s holding a laptop that’s obstructed from her view due to the Sarkaz’s robes.

ArtFall gulps a lump of chewed sandwich and says, “Hey, it’s no big deal”

She gets back on her chair and continues to work as usual while her assistant checks on the logs recorded on a laptop she probably borrowed from the Control Center. ArtFall glances at her and the Sarkaz’s face remains blank most of the time until she sees something. She began typing swiftly, - almost unnoticeable to most people - but the perceptive Shining doesn’t miss a particular log. ArtFall’s mentally notes to herself she’s going to read the updated logs later and continues to finish signing the file on her hand.

The Doctor began to feel sleepy, her eyes struggling to focus, and fell asleep on the table, her head resting on her folded arms.

After scrolling through her medical logs, Shining glances at the Doctor and sighs, signing off the R.I. network before shutting the device. She placed it in one of ArtFall’s cabinets since the latter needs to read the logs she had typewritten.

The Sarkaz hears the Doctor snoring from the desk and finds herself amused that the Doctor could sleep like a log. A long-forgotten, warm feeling resurfaced from her chest; the one she felt from years ago which is dampened by the wars she participated in.

“How...za… feeling…?” the Doctor murmurs in her sleep. Shining has never seen this before throughout the many months of working with her. “It’s...no...good...zzz”

The Sarkaz sighs to herself and carries the sleeping Doctor onto her arms; she’s surprised that ArtFall is lighter than she looks. She carefully lays the Doctor on the bed, thankful that she isn’t awake and still sleeping like a baby - which she finds adorable. The helmet is removed carefully, ArtFall’s purple strands scatter on the pillow in all directions and Shining settles the helmet on the nightstand.

After putting a blanket on ArtFall, she heads to the office desk to sort everything out. A few files left astray, she notices, and most folders are already alphabetized. Three, yellow sticky notes are placed on the top of the desk once she cleared everything up, the writings are a bit messy but eligible enough to be read if one looks closer.

   Note 1: Files of Dur-nar is chek chek, no need to worry :)    Note 2: Reminder: Received private logs from different Operators, I’ll read them later.

The last one, however, has strikes on it.

   Note 3: Am Amiya, if you’re reading this note, I’m hoping you keep your promise. And, no, not yet.

The Sarkaz isn’t the type of person who’ll intrude into people’s lives, especially with the promises. She wondered no longer and stood up from the desk to sit on the sofa, glancing at the Doctor, who was facing away from her, still snoring softly.

She stays up until it’s late, distracting herself with books - keeping her awake long enough before she starts to doze off. The still quietness was interrupted by another murmur from the Doctor herself from the other side of the room.

“...Can’t...say…” ArtFall murmurs slurrily but intelligible enough to understand, “...Do…love...her. Don’t… be.. Silly, Amiya...erkkzzz”

It’s obvious at this point: ArtFall likes her from the very start. Shining feels the low glow of her Arts due to her welling feelings at the thought of the Doctor, small contentment, and relief rest upon her chest. The feelings are mutual and she couldn’t help but smile to herself as she lays down on the couch and drifts off to sleep, her glow remains the same.

-----

-A few days later-

ArtFall is pumped to test out her Arts for the past few days even though she wasn’t sure if it’s going to work or not. Only a handful of Operators that she trusts know her condition and she’s thankful that they still keep their promise up to this day.

With enough motivation, she finished all the files - ranging from recruitment to operation debriefing - given to her with the help of coffee sachets she got from the cafeteria days ago. Still hyperactive from the caffeine, ArtFall sits back and stares at the two stacks of files on the right side of her desk, amazed such motivation would make her finish the files within four hours of that day.

ArtFall slips a hand on one of her pockets, pulling out a comm device to call her assistant. She waits for a few minutes after pressing the button, nervous and excited at the same time: she’s going to learn Arts… for the second time if it counts.

There’s a knock on her door that made her snap from her gaze. 

“Come in”, the Doctor says almost enthusiastically, her intuition telling her it’s her assistant. The door opens. Shining walks in and stops momentarily at the doorway, there is a spark of astonishment in her eyes.

“You seem to have finished everything early today, Doctor,” she says, closing the door. 

ArtFall smiles sheepishly behind her helmet. “I am just excited about learning Arts, well, for the second time, I guess?”

The Sarkaz chuckles softly and smiles. “Let’s get started.”

The Doctor removes her helmet for once and becomes nervous to remove her eyepatch, afraid to unleash her Arts. Shining keeps reassuring the Doctor that simple Arts like hers wouldn’t even hurt a fly. That encourages ArtFall to finally remove her patch, exposing her scarred, red-eye to her assistant. The medic takes a closer look at ArtFall’s eye, she could see some uniqueness within the eye but she doesn’t question any further.

At first, the Doctor struggles to grasp the concept. It only took an hour for ArtFall to make any progress by projecting the Arts through her pen. The two have experimented with the available materials inside the office and ArtFall chose her pen out of all things. The energy released from the tip of the pen is small, circular energy which dissipates in a matter of a few seconds.

“I did it,” ArtFall says, partially exhausted from releasing energy, “Ugh, I’m still getting used to this.”

“I’d recommend taking a rest, Doctor,” the Sarkaz says calmly as she guides the Doctor to the couch. As she sits, ArtFall lifts a hand on her right eye, her small smile still present from the small accomplishment. 

“I didn’t know I’d lose a bet I have with Amiya that fast,” ArtFall chuckles to herself, looking at Shining. “I...I’m still a bit nervous about saying it.”

The medic could only stare at ArtFall before the warm feeling on her chest rose yet again; Shining truly enjoys her company and knows the fact that the Doctor is ready to admit her feelings.

ArtFall begins to fidget, looking away from her assistant, her lips tight and tapping her free hand on her knee. After gathering enough courage, she stands up, her mind coming up with words she had kept at the back of her mind for months.

♫♫(music)♫♫

“I...okay, don’t be surprised.” ArtFall inhales, preparing for anything that will come out of her dry lips, “I… think... l...love you.”

ArtFall’s got to admit, there’s no other way out but to steel herself and take a shot. Even for a tactical genius like her, Amiya outsmarted her with the bet.

For now, all she could do is hide her face entirely on her palms and attempt to hide the blush spreading on her cheeks. She anxiously waits for Shining to react, any reaction will do. They have been standing still seemingly for ages until she is pulled into a hug, almost flinching from the sudden touch.

“I know, Doctor,” the Sarkaz leans close to her ear to whisper. “I found it out myself.”

ArtFall settles her head, along with her hands, on the other’s shoulder. “...How?”

Shining smiles warmly at herself, amused that the Doctor, a genius, hasn't even figured out what happened yet. “I heard you talking in your sleep. I apologize for listening in.”

With that, ArtFall opens a gap from her fingers to peek. “Y-you… what? Well, uh, talking in my sleep isn’t in my control so...”

“I would’ve guessed,” the medic replies delicately. “I find it… endearing.”

They stayed still for a few more seconds before the Sarkaz whispered once more to ArtFall by her ear, “Close your eyes, Doctor.”

ArtFall almost didn’t catch her words but she obliges, settling her arms on the medic’s shoulders, almost clutching on the Sarkaz’ black robes out of nervousness.

These are the same words she said nights ago before receiving a forehead kiss.

She could feel the medic’s whole upper body leaning down slowly and steadily. Her assistant’s scent greets her like that night, this time, however, with the reminiscence of a book that has been recently bought with an underlying scent of metal.

It’s a mere second before she could register what the Sarkaz would do, the Doctor felt her lips pressed against the medic’s. ArtFall tenses at the contact and melts on the kiss right away, her assistant pulling her in a tight embrace to calm her down. The Doctor feels her heart hammering against her chest as if it likes to burst out of her ribcage and lets out a small whimper against the medic’s lips.

Shining momentarily opens her eyes half-lidded and makes sure to pull the Doctor in a deeper kiss before closing her eyes once more, her embrace loosens as she relaxes. ArtFall eventually finds herself relaxing her tensed shoulders along with her fingers, unclutching the robes and held to the Sarkaz’s shoulders. She leans her head further to her left as their tongues momentarily entangle before ArtFall pulls away from their kiss for both of them to have a breathing room and settles her head on Shining’s shoulder once again, catching her breath. She’s captivated yet flustered on what just occurred as she never experienced this before or… has she forgotten entirely how it feels to love someone romantic wise? She buried the said thought under and pressed her head further into Shining’s embrace.

Shining, on the other hand, rests her head against the other’s hair and lips almost press against the Doctor’s forehead. After a whole minute of enjoying each other’s embrace, Shining finally breaks the silence.

“Doctor ArtFall, I do find myself enjoying your company and have mutual feelings for you,” the Sarkaz says, corners of her lips pulled into a small smile. “I cherish you like nothing else.”

ArtFall, despite being flustered and still having her head pressed on her assistant’s shoulder, figured out that the Sarkaz is speaking in a different language of “I love you”.

The Doctor lifts her head from the other’s shoulder to meet her beloved’s scarlet eyes. She smiles at the realization and every fear in her mind slipped away, finally able to say the words without any weight of dubiety attached to it.

“I love you too.”

♫♫(music stops)♫♫

Thanks for reading!

[tarkfir]

Hey there, it’s been a while huh? Well, I come back with new characters and a new story, enjoy this info for now :3

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CASE FILE #1111

Name: Chimera (Chim) Age: 13 years Sex: None  Personality: Mostly joyful, dreamy and curious. Can't control its own emotions, might suffer from a personality and identity disorder. Possesses an unbreakable spirit. Interests: Obsession with orcas and the ocean. Loves water and blue is its favourite color. Diet: Complex mixture of various organic foods. (high quantities of vitamins and proteins) Class: Special. 

Anomaly: Mutant Genes.  Case: The subject presents a mutant genome, a large mixture of millions of different and unique genes in constant change with an erratic behaviour. This makes identification an extremely difficult task, the subject can't be categorized as human or an individual from any other known species, rather all of them together as one. It can't be recognized as male or female either, doesn't show any typical genitals or sexual features, has been proven to be infertile. The subject shows an amazing regeneration ability but also a fragile health, its body collapses for unknown reasons from time to time, needs constant care and vigilance. Due to the high mutability of its genes, the subject can transform into any animal or developed living organism on the planet and amazingly maintain its level of cognition, intelligence and memory, no matter the shape or size of its body. It can control this ability mostly at will, but can't stay in one form for too long, not even the human one, so it needs to change many times per day to stay healthy and not enter in shock. We are unable to avoid this and haven't found any way to control or use its mutation yet. Status: Unstable. Form of containment hasn't been properly adjusted yet. Comments: The subject's anomaly can be considered a miracle or even a blessing for science, making it the most valuable and precious acquisition for the facility to date. Must concentrate all our efforts on this new specimen, might be the key to our future.

[raevenlywrites]

Happy STS! ❤️ I really love so much all the lore/worldbuilding things you post about your wips... Like Tybee's puzzles, and that story about the stars, and this other story about the goddesses too... Can I have anything more about it? Any kind of lore or worldbuilding facts? Thanks, I'll love it -chauceryfairytales

Here is an old file I found called “A bit about shapeshifters”. I hope this fits the bill @chauceryfairytales

A bit about shapeshifter races in Asylum

A preface: All modernday shapeshifters share a common origin, long lost to ancienthistory. The magic that forged them drew inspiration from thenaturalized world, from the fey creatures that arose from theElements. While modern peoples neither know nor care about theseorigins, it is worth keeping in mind that not every shapeshifter iswhat it seems, or thinks itself to be. Those with fey origins, nomatter how remote, are subject to different realities about magic.Those of the common shapeshifter ancestry have lost much of theirmagic over the generations, and now, most individuals are “normal”,outside of carrying a second animal soul.

Serpents: venomous(cobras, vipers) and non-venomous (pythons, and boas)

The venomous lines tendto have powerful magic, usually mirroring the color of their scales.Pythons and boas usually do not, though some interesting individualshave popped up here and there. In ancient times, cobra magic usuallydominated anyone of split parentage, and venomous tended to rule outover non. It is possible to be born split formed or blended form,displaying the talents and scales of both parents. Usually, suchpeople still only have a single serpent form, but there are rumoredto be some who call two entirely separate sets of scales.

For various reasons,serpents are often hit hardest during times of fear and war. Many ofthe lines known in ancient times are long lost, and with them, themagic they carried. Stories remain, but to most, they are just that:stories.

Avians: raptors (owls,hawks, eagles, and falcons) and passerines (basically any bird thatisn't a predator) *and corvids

Divided into twoclasses, the raptors and the passerines, based loosely on the birdtype they call. An ancient legend says that the first passerine wasborn when he lay down his magic willingly, to foster peace in awar-torn world. In our modern world, it is true that passerine typesalmost never have any magic, but even in the raptor types, magic isless and less common. Those raptors who do possess magic tend to bevery old, and very secretive. This may be due to the still lingeringdistrust of the griffics, a legendary nation of chimera: gryphons,hippogriffs, and wyverns. Even though nothing but rumors remain ofthe nation today, their reign was so absolute, fear of winged magicis hard to forget.

*Crows, ravens,magpies, and jays make up an outlier group known as crovids. Magiccan be found in their ranks, but not often. Some of these shiftersare of a similar background to the first passerines, while otherscome from more fey-like origins. The legends and superstitionssurrounding these groups are as varied as the cultures they findthemselves struggling to be a part of. In Riverside, most of thecorvids live uptown with the raptors, in a loose alliance with thewitch community. But it is equally common for corvids to integratewith passerine groups, or, in large enough numbers, to form their ownunits.

Felines: nations(tigers and lions), families (leopards and panthers), and solitaries(any) *and foxes

Like most of thepredator races, felines are better known for their martial prowessthan magical. Aside from the lions and tigers, felines tend to besolitary creatures, forming small familial bands, if anything. Eventhe great tiger nations are made up of smaller tribes, operating asindependent war-bands unless called together by their overlords. Somefeline forms also crop up in mixed species family groups, especiallyin remote and wild places like the North and the West, where magic ismore common, and unpredictable. Such peoples almost never ventureinto the more modernized lands, and so little is known about them.But, presumably, they feel the same nomadic urge common to otherfeline types. Like the cat types they call, feline magic tends to befickle, and it is not uncommon for a first shift to occur as late asearly adulthood, though it can occur much younger.

*While foxes are notclassically feline, behaviorally, they fall into this category. Likethe corvids, their ancestry may be common with other shifters types,while other lines descend from fey types. Fox magic, when it cropsup, leans towards illusions and dreams, Fire, or Earth.

Canids The Pack(wolves) and the solitaries (jackals and coyotes) *and The Den(hyenas)

Straight up,traditional Werewolves, without all the moon-gaga, silver-fearingbullshit. Wolves form rigid pack structures, with clear lines ofdominance leading to their absolute Alpha. Occasionally, Lone Wolvesare tolerated within a Pack's territory, either by being minor enoughto ignore, or by paying appropriate tribute. Lesser canids likejackals and coyotes are either ignored, or bullied. Might makes Rightin the canid world, and so the fierce dedication to structure is allthat keeps them from tearing themselves apart like animals. Fiercelyterritorial, the health of the local wolf pack either meansmeticulously guarded Order in their area, or barely contained gangviolence. Thankfully, canid races tend to be devoid of magic. It isalso not uncommon for their shapeshifting magic to be controlled,monitored, or even suppressed by their group's energy until puberty.

*Call a hyena a dog andthey will bite you. Despite, or maybe because of, their similardominance behaviors, hyenas and wolves war nearly every time theyclash. As a general rule, hyenas fight less for dominance, usuallyforming a clear line of command based on experience and age, ratherthan brute strength. In Riverside, the local Den are somewhatmilitant, divided into small bands of four or five that look an olderleader, with those units grouped together to make a squad, squadsinto sections, and so on. Currently, there are five “generals”who form a council under the highest leader, known simply as The Den.

Herd: Horses and Deer*and rabbits

Herd families are adying breed. With the growing sprawl of urbanization encroaching onthe wilderness, wide open spaces are harder and harder to come by.Intimately tied to the land's own magic, fecundity is becomingincreasingly reduced as space is becoming a premium. In today'smodern world, horse families are less and less nomadic, buying up anyland they can and forming homesteads. They live in the most perfectdisguises: as horse farmers and cattle ranchers. Few nomadic bandsremain, serving as caravan guards and escorts in those remote placeswhere civilization refuses to take. Deer families, if they stillexist, are never seen outside of their native forests.

*While not properlyherd, rabbits crop up in those same odd families in the North andWest.

Misc.

Shapeshifter magicreflects the land it comes from. While some elements of form areinheritable, local elements influence the form a child's magic willtake. Nica, for example, is hawk like her father, but being born onAmerican soil, her soul took the form of a Red-Shouldered Hawk whenit reached for a specific shape, while his was something reflectinghis native European land. So, depending on a myriad of conditions, intheory, ANY naturalized animal could potentially show up in ashapeshifter's soul, provided it resonated with the basic type (bird,serpent, feline, canid, herd). Add to it the mingling of fey-typelines into “pure” shifter lines, and the magic becomes even lesspredictable.

[katofeles]

H.E.A.R.T Lab file . . .

Subject name: Warriors

Biological Gender: Female

Age: 16 year old

Type: Mixed DNA (Domestic Tortoiseshell cat and Human)

Behavior: The Subject shows a more reserved and shy nature compared to her personality observed earlier on. She likes to hide away in the fake plants in her cell whenever we come to observe her. When it comes time for check-ups and the such, she shows great hostility (in which we sedate the subject and proceed from there). When interacting with other subjects, she seems to take a protective stance with them, we usually have to use force to seperate her from a subject.

Physical changes:

Her scalera shifted from white to a yellow-green color

Hair is now dual-toned; its noted that this is probably due to it trying to mimic a chimera tortoiseshell cat

Nose mimicing that of a cat's in both the print, color, and even the adapting nose leather

Lower calfs and lower arms have gained black and white sleek fur

Feet are now paws

The subject takes a quasi-bipedal stance

Other Notes:

The key to getting her to cooperate is to threaten her with her younger siblings. Its shown that she cares so much about them that she will do practically anything to keep them out of harm's way

Has a strong fear of needles and 'Monsters' (Automobiles) as she refers to them

[hehe dont mind the whole 'file' thing im just having fun with this au my group is rping. basically our undertale goes batshit crazy scientist and starts experimenting on fandoms and turning into monsters in order to 'save them']

[ask-mortarion-the-death-lord]

ooc: though i hardly ever actually write anything out, i do jot down ideas for larger fics a lot. Recently had an idea of sorts for a sioc fic (cause im fukin 14 i guess), and with it came some space marine warband and chapter ideas. for your enjoyment/possible derision i have decided to post the couple ive written out and fleshed out a bit in my head so far.

enjoy, if only in mockery

wolves of the eye - sons of horus, undivided. A splinter from the black legion that consider themselves more pure then their parent warband and thus the rightful inheritors to horuses ideals. In truth their geneseed is actually more tainted then the black legions is on average, though this is a fact closely held as secret by the warbands leaders and surgeons. instead they institute a sort of genetic hierarchy within the warband, primarily through designation of the larger number of non horus geneseed descended astartes as second to the ruling horus descended ones. thus the warband hierarchy could be said to begin with sons of horus at the top, the dark mecahnicus clients second due to their usefulness, astartes descended from other traitor legions third, and fourth being loyalist descended astartes. Below even the loyalist descended however are the ‘chimera’ astartes, born from the same practices that wrought the Chymeriae during the horus heresy, chimera astartes are those whos implements and gene seed can best be described as spliced together, often from whatever ‘spare parts’ happen to be lying around in the wolves of the eye’s case. these chimera form the crux of the wolves of the eyes rank and file astartes, due to the low success rate of the wolves own geneseed and the general infrequency they pull new recruits from other legions or renegade loyalists. these chimera astartes are derided as half breeds by their superiors, pushed into the meatgrinder or pulled as a sacrifice to the gods when regular human cultists arent up to the demanding standards of the wolves of the eye. this is the best many of the chimera can hope for however, as most chimera geneseed is highly unstable, though the surgeons are careful to use chimera geneseed with a reasonable degree of longevity, and dying in battle or begin sacrificed to the gods is often far more preferable then some of the mutated messes their fellow chimeras spontaneously or slowly degrade into. The wolves of the eye would eventually find themselves as targets of the grey knights, and after a long chase and being whittled down by their persistent hunters would see near total destruction at the hands of the grey knights. save for one chimera.

bolters of oboron - ultramarine, undivided. a recently renegade ultramarines successor chapter, its leader oboron slaughtered the majority of his home chapter before instigating a tyrannical rule on his home world. Marines from the nova marines chapter were thankfully on hand to push oboron off before his home world was completely irrecoverable. This irritated oboron, especially since a new chapter descended form the nova marines was placed in charge of his home world. as such he plans to rouse a force large enough to take back his home world, gathering what survivors he has from the 4th, 5th, and 8th company, the main ones who rebelled with him to begin with, and making plans to earn a name for himself in the eye of terror. these plans are cut short by the sioc who slaughters oboron and his command staff causing the warband to splinter.

dark chimeras - mixed, renegade. the sioc, well not intentionally, founds the dark chimeras. or rather, the stragglers picked up behind them end up founding it for them. the warband itself follows a strict edit of hatred towards chaos and its weakness, though they dont disparage the use of the warp. instead they use ancient xenos warpcraft left behind by an extinct xeno society and picked up on the behest of the sioc's talking xeno sword. By channeling the warp into those artifacts they can safely use the warp without bowing to chaos or the imperium of man. rather rag tagged in its composition, being a collective of out of placers and weirdos in its inception. Pioneered in part because of the collaboration between the sioc, fabius bile, and the dark chimeras future master surgeon. generally look down on those legions who utilize slaves, seeing it as more inefficient then the more familial style of organization and relation between astartes and the dark chimeras human workers.

terrible slaughter - night lords, khorne. night lords splinter band dedicated to khorne. they split from the night lords as a collective because of their dedication to khornes worship. known for especially over eager slaughters of anyone they can get their hands on, they discard the stealth their parent legion is known for in favor of brutal oppressive melee and more straight forward terror campaigns. the first major opponents the dark chimeras face as an official warband, they triumph over the terrible slaughter destroying the depraved warband to the last astarte.

murderous talon - emperors children/chimera, slaanesh/renegade. straining for resources and with few allies even from their own parent legion, the excessive indulgences of the murderous talon warband have considerably toned down as they struggle to survive. as such they have what few surgeons they have left working round the clock to produce chimera geneseed from the scraps the warband has left to pull from. steadily lost faith in slaanesh and have begun disavowing chaos, which in part has caused their problems to get worse as the chaos gods punish them for their lose of faith in them. Lacking in resources and having no legion veterans and relics to their name, the murderous talons remnants would eventually be absorbed into the dark chimeras warband after their head surgeon cast his lot in with the sioc, bringing with them their knowledge in noise weaponry and stims though retooled to the beliefs of the dark chimeras.

angels of bubonic - blood angels, nurgle. a recently renegaded force from a blood angels successor chapter, they were corrupted by pox plagues with only a scant few of the warband retaining individual sentience and the other astartes being little better then poxwalkers or other zombie strains. infect the sioc's birth world with nurgles diseases before getting in a tussle with the dark chimeras and murderous talons allied force. Well they put up a hell of a fight, angels of bubonic effectively have their leaders slain and the surviving plague zombies mercy killed.

blood owls - ultramarines, compliant. a loyalist fleet based chapter currently caught up in omegoros genocide, a conflict and purge that has lasted since the chapters inception during the reign of blood. during this time the omegoros system was designated as heretical by goge vandire, and the blood owls who were created from a pilgrim fleet fanatically devoted to goge vandire were tasked with the purge. unfortunately for the blood owls the omegoros system is a largely hive dominated one with absurdly high birth rates, and when the purges began local priests of the ecchlissiarch rallied the citizens to resist the unjust purge. wherever or not the purge is justified has largely been lost over the years as both sides become embittered and distrustful. Any attempt to intervene in the conflict has largely ended in failure as either the two sides temporarily unite to push out the intruders, or outside forces intervene for reasons known only to them. On top of that the blood owls refusal to deviate from the codex in any way means that they have never sufficiently raised the forces needed to accomplish their mission, and their tactics have largely become highly predictable for the omegoros resistance. The blood owls would see final defeat and total annihilation after the brief interference of the sioc on his way to locating relics of the sword, their battle barge and effective fortress monastery destroyed during combat over the relic the blood owls had happened to stumble on. the omegoros system meanwhile would immediately find itself subject to attacks from the imperial guard tasked to finally reclaim the system.