#Data Rescue Project | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaslayer · 2 months ago

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wildfire (cs) | fifteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, changes are happening??, namjoon again to the rescue, a bit of distant san 😔, a bit of yearning san ❤️‍🩹, alcohol consumption & intoxication, a very small kiss that was accidental and meant absolutely nothing, these two just 😞 over each other, some crying

—on rotation: next to you - bryson tiller | i'll be alright (tonight) - mura masa

Two months have passed, closer to 3, and you've been busy working your ass off in Namjoon's lab. You've brainstormed and came up with a project that Namjoon approved, giving you all the resources and space you needed to get started. You've also been working alongside a few people in the lab since their project was relatable to yours, finding guidance and a little bit of training and support to carry your project forward. It's been busy, and it's been a good busy.

It's been good enough to keep your mind off of San.

For the most part.

You could only avoid him so many times, and it's not like the ache you felt deep in your chest, your stomach, went away. It still lingers, and it still hits you from time to time.

And it doesn't make it any easier when you get reminders.

Like meeting San's eyes across campus— only for him to break loose and shift his attention elsewhere.

The shift is a harsh, cold reminder that this may actually be over for good.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey." Sunwoo says, gently nudging you. "You okay? Haven't seen you in awhile?" You nod, half smiling before looking down at your laptop.

"Was busy." You chuckle a bit. "Was working on the fine details of my rotation presentation, along with all the data analysis we worked on." You give him a small smile. "I came to clean out the last bits of my stuff."

"It'll all blow over." He says with a reassuring smile. "For the record, I don't think it really matters but I know Professor Kim is just trying to keep everything together before it all blows up again."

"Guessing the whole world knows now?" He shrugs.

"Maybe, maybe not. I haven't heard much lately, but you know me, I don't like to meddle in things like that in general. I keep outta that shit."

"People must think greatly of me." He chuckles.

"It doesn't matter what they think. In any case, you are a good person, you're super sweet and super smart. If they choose to fix on that, that's their issue."

"Thanks, Sunwoo." You look at him. "I'm sorry I won't be able to help you after this."

"That's okay. We'll still hang out and I'm sure we'll cross paths more before I finish up here. Plus, I love Professor Choi but having Professor Kim take you under his wing is fucking sick." You laugh, playfully shoving him.

"I don't know where this will take me, but I hope it works out."

"Are you two.. still a thing? Secret's safe with me. For real."

"I know. But, no."

"I don't know the ins and outs of what happened between you and Professor Choi, but I'm sure he did it for good reason. To also protect you."

"Yeah, maybe. Who knows anymore." You sigh. "Anyway. Gotta head out to do my rotation presentation."

"Goodluck. It'll be all good." Sunwoo gives you a small smile. "Text or call me? Let's get lunch on a weekly basis or something to catch up."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks for everything, Sunwoo."

"Nah, thank you. You really helped my ass out." You laugh and playfully ruffle his hair.

"I'll see you around." You gather your things and let out a shaky sigh as you head out. You're hauling your main bag, and another tote bag that has the rest of your things from your desk. You head over to the small auditorium that Namjoon booked for your rotation presentation, giving yourself some wiggle room to set up and get situated before the three would arrive.

Too bad someone else also had the same plan.

You waltz into the room and head straight for the podium, setting your things down onto a chair in the front row. You grab your laptop and settle at the front, eyes shooting up at the door when you hear footsteps approach the entrance.

And of course it would be San.

He slowly trails in with Namjoon next to him; except, Namjoon turns to speak with a student that stopped him right by the entrance. San is in his black dress pants, white shirt and a black leather jacket. His boots are leaving sounds with every step he takes, watch gleaming on his wrist. He meets your eyes and you instantly freeze— shifting your attention back to your laptop because you don't know what the hell else to do. He doesn't say anything as he heads down the aisle and to the front row, his greeting almost sounding dull.

Forced, even.

"Y/N."

"Professor Choi." The awkwardness and the tension fills the room, and you can't help but notice how awfully clammy your hands are getting. How nervous you feel yourself getting. "How are you?"

"Good." Is all he says before plopping into seat in front while you continue to work with the AV system to get your presentation up on the screen.

"That's good." You reply without looking at him. He feels cold and so standoff-ish— it's hard to tell if he's doing this because he has to or because he actually means it. Was he really done with you? "Hope the presentation's okay." You mumble lightly. San catches on, but he continues to scroll through his phone to distract himself until Namjoon finally walks in.

"Sure you'll be fine." And it sucks. Maybe he does mean it. He doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't reassure you the way he usually does. For San, it's a front. He has to distance himself or else he'll cave. For you, it hurts nonetheless.

"Sorry! Got caught up. The dean's on his way." Namjoon pops in and sits next to San in the front row. "All good, Y/N? Do you need help with setting anything else up?"

"No, I think I got it. Thank you." You smile at him and he nods.

"Course."

"Alright, let's get this going. Sorry for the small wait." The dean comes in last, taking a seat by the two. "Hi Y/N, hope you're doing okay."

"Think so." You chuckle a bit. "Well, I'll get started if there aren't any objections?" They shake their heads. "Great." You nervously respond while Namjoon and the dean give you a small smile.

San doesn't even maintain eye contact with you.

But, it's only because it's the hardest thing to suppress his feelings for you whenever you're in front of him and he can't exactly have you like he used to.

—END

"Yo!" Jiung waves, shifting your attention towards him across the lawn. You give him a small smile, stopping in your motions to wait for him to cross over. To your left is San, patiently waiting for Zara to walk over to him. You can't help but watch; the two only a couple of feet away, their voices slightly echoing around the courtyard.

His hand hovering the small of her back as they enter the Harvey Building together.

To this day, you can still feel your heart physically drop to your gut. You're not sure when it'll pass, but you hope it's soon. You're so tired of feeling this way.

So, so tired.

"Hey." You give Jiung a tiny smile as you hug your books against your chest.

"Whattup?" It took awhile for you and Jiung to get back to normal. You always knew you would, but you needed a little more time to understand his side of things. For awhile, you were angry and hurt. All you could see was red. All you could see was Jiung openly going behind your back to talk to Professor Kim about something he didn't know anything about.

You saw the surface level.

But, as time went on, and as your hurt continued to settle into something you just needed to accept, you understood Jiung a little more. You knew he had always cared about you and you knew he was always protective of you. You knew there wasn't any ill intention behind his actions. And when you two finally came together to talk about it more maturely, you've seen that Jiung had been more understanding of your side, too. He apologized for having gotten in the middle, but he did everything out of care for you and protection. It's clearer now that the relationship you had with San wasn't just any relationship— he saw you cry, and cry, and cry. Wondering where you went wrong or what you could've done to be more careful, to prevent this from happening. He saw the look in your eyes, the way your body physically called and yearned for San's touch and love; he knew this wasn't any of those cases of power imbalance or a one-sided relationship. He felt stupid having needed time to marinate on the whole thing when he should've known you better. But, he could truly say he acted in fear and felt better to err on the side of caution.

He just wished it didn't have to end like this; with you, sad and alone. Feeling like all of it was just too good to be true, a fleeting moment.

A quick chapter in your book.

He gets that now.

When he sees San walking around, he almost feels the same energy, aura, that he feels when he sees you. It's just too bad he can't help. Even if he did, he finds it better to no longer meddle.

Maybe it'll bring you two back together again. When the time is right.

"Nothing. I just need to get some stuff together before I meet with Professor Kim in a bit."

"Nervous?"

"No, not really." You shake your head. "Things have been going well for the most part, minus little hiccups. He wanted to talk about other programs and opportunities he found fitting for me."

"Huh." Jiung cocks a brow up. "More collaborations he wants you involved in, I'm assuming." You shrug.

"If it is, I'm for it. Just hope it doesn't take up my entire schedule completely." You chuckle.

"It'll be good either way!"

"Yeah, I know. It's been good. I have no complaints." You shiver from the breeze that's picking up, digging your face deeper into the scarf you have on.

"Did you hear? There's supposed to be a random storm coming soon. Spring weather, amirite?"

"I heard."

"Are you gonna head home? You should try and head home if you can. Who knows what it'll bring here."

"I don't know. I do need to catch up on some data analysis or else I'll be behind." You pause. "Dunno if I trust myself to work productively at home. We have backup generators, right?"

"I mean, yeah. But, what if it goes out? Then, what?"

"Yeah, I don't know. Let's hope that's not one of these cases." You stop in front of the Panama Building and turn to Jiung.

"Lunch later?" You nod.

"Might be a little late. I'll text you when I'm wrapping up?"

"Sounds good. We'll wait for you."

"See you later." You wave before heading inside the building, shimmying off the cold once you step inside and try to warm yourself up. You head down to the lab, setting your things down on your desk before immediately getting started on your work for the day. You try to pace yourself and plan out your tasks well so that you're able to step out for your meeting with Professor Kim and grab lunch with your friends in a few hours.

It's busy, and time flies. Busy is good. At least your mind is occupied with other pressing matters.

Time slips by so quickly you're almost running late to your meeting with Professor Kim. You put a pause in your current run for behavior, grabbing your laptop and a notebook before darting up to Professor Kim's office. You power-walk down the familiar hallway before finally reaching his open door, finding him occupied at his desk.

"Hey!" Namjoon smiles when you walk into his office and plop down in the chair. "Give me a second, just finishing up this email."

"All good." You chuckle. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late. Was running behavior."

"No worries, I figured. Get comfortable." You plop onto the seat in front of his desk, watching as his fingers move swiftly on the keyboard before he navigates to the mouse and clears his throat. "Okay! All good." He laughs a bit. "How's it going?"

"Good! Pretty busy per usual."

"Good busy, I suppose?"

"Yes, good busy. It's been productive. Days are going by quick. I've got some really promising data for this cohort and I think you might be happy with it."

"I'm happy with any progress." You laugh. "That sounds great! Any other ideas? Any other plans at the moment?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet. As long as I'm on the right path, I think there are other avenues I can explore if the results continue to trend upwards."

"Then, let's explore when we get there. I know you'll continue to do great work, and the results look promising. It all looks promising."

"Thank you, Professor Kim."

"There is something else I wanted to talk to you about." You cock a brow up and tilt your head to the side.

"Sure. I'm all ears."

"Professor Qi from the Mirae Biomedical Institute contacted me the other day. She was really impressed by your symposium presentation and the work you've done in Professor Choi's lab and mine. She thinks you'd be a great asset in their program, especially since she's starting a new clinical research study that I also agree you'd contribute well to. It's a study examining neural activity and behavioral patterns in individuals with conditions like bipolar disorder, anxiety, and OCD, etc. You get the gist. A lot of your work is relatable and can be used to push this study forward."

"Oh my god, wow." You respond in disbelief, shock, even. You didn't think anyone was really paying attention to your work like that, especially with what has happened. You kinda felt like a lost cause even though nothing entirely catastrophic has happened. "I was not expecting that."

"Why not?" Namjoon laughs. "You deserve the credit. What do you think about it?"

"I'm really honored, truly. I think it's a great opportunity."

"It is. Not a lot of people get recruited this way, especially with a research assistant position included in the package." You nod silently, still trying to take it in. "Now, if you do want to move forward, it does mean we'll have to get your transfer application in ASAP. They do offer housing assistance should you need it, and they're willing to help cover any other expenses until you settle."

"Right, transferring." You look down at your palms. Truthfully, Mirae wasn't that far from here; it'd be about 2 hours out, but you could easily get there by a drive down the less busier highway or the bullet train.

You'd have to make that effort to see your friends, meet halfway.

San comes into your head.

"I know it's a bit scary, you've already gotten accustomed to things here even if it's just been your first year. But, luckily, it's not that far away and you can always meet your friends halfway. The train can connect you to campus and back." He tries to reassure you because he really wants you to take this. Of course, he can't force you, but he knows this would be beneficial to your growth.

"Yeah, I know. It's not that bad."

"It's not. Plus, you guys all drive, right?" You nod.

"When do I have to get my transfer application in?" Namjoon pulls up the information on his desktop and lets out a small sigh.

"In two weeks. We can get that done. I can write up a letter of recommendation for you and have Professors Choi and Bahng do one each." He looks at you. "Do you feel comfortable asking Professor Jeong for one since you TA'd for him? It's not entirely necessary, but wanted to see how you felt."

"Um, to be honest, not really." He nods.

"That's fine. We don't need it. Us three should be more than enough." He gives you a tiny smile. "Think you can get a personal statement and everything else together by then?"

"Yeah, I think so. Shouldn't be too much of a hassle."

"I can help with official transcripts, too."

"That sounds great." Your expression is blank and Namjoon tilts his head to try and get a read from you.

"Why the face?"

"I truthfully didn't think I was qualified or that anyone was really paying attention." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"Listen, your grades are fantastic. The work you do is incredible. I fully think you are capable of handling all the ins and outs of this transfer and transitioning over." Namjoon smiles. "The program isn't too different from ours, but it will definitely offer you a lot of different options and pathways with the clinical study picking up."

"It's alot, and I'm grateful you believe in me. I just don't know if I can handle it. The changes."

"Don't second-guess yourself, okay? You are more than capable. It won't be much different from what you're already doing. Just a 'lil more umph. More seasoning, if you will."

"You think so?" He nods.

"You'll still focus on research, but you'll be split between classes and eventually, the hospital. Unfortunately, that does probably mean there is some weekend work in store for you." You let out a breath, eyes still on Professor Kim. He lets out another laugh [of endearment] and nods, clasping his hands together. "I know that look. I've been there before, but trust me. You'll do amazing, and you'll excel, no doubt. You shouldn't restrict yourself just because you assume you won't do well. Your work and ethic has proved otherwise."

"Thank you, Professor Kim. I think I do wanna move forward with this."

"Cool, then we can work together and get you set up. I'll loop you into an email with her so we can all chat and finalize this. Hopefully before the week ends." You nod.

"And I mean it, by the way." You pause. "Thank you for everything. For supporting me and pushing me forward regardless of everything that's happened."

"You're welcome. I would never let that define you." You give him a small smile, fiddling with your laptop sleeve— dying to ask him about the one person that has been occupying your mind the most. "You okay otherwise?"

"Yeah, I think so. Just thought about some things, but nothing important."

"He's doing okay." Namjoon gives you a tiny smile.

"I— huh? How'd you know I was—"

"Because I just do. He asks about you, too."

"Oh." Is all you say, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat. "Well, I'm glad he's okay."

"Him and Professor Choi #2 received approval for their joint program, so they'll be getting the real estate they wanted in the new building."

"That's amazing. I'm glad it all worked out." Namjoon nods.

"Anything else I can do for you in the meantime?"

"No, that's it. For now. I'm sure more things will come up when we meet next."

"Sounds good. Well, you let me know if anything comes up or if I can do anything else for you."

"Thanks, Professor Kim." You give him one last smile before grabbing your things and heading out the door.

And the rest of your day is pretty eventful, but not as eventful as San's turns out to be.

While you busy yourself with your new classes, lab work and hanging out with your friends, San is having to force himself to go out with his own group. For awhile, he kinda sulked. Stayed home, did his own thing. Kept quiet. But, it got old to Jongho [and the rest of them] quick— hence, now he's being forced to leave the comfort of his home.

He guesses he could use the fresh air, the night out. It is Mingi's birthday, so he doesn't think he could've said no otherwise.

"Ayo!" Jongho calls out as he enters San's house, twirling the key around his finger as he waits for San's response.

"I told you I'd be fine driving." San slowly comes down his steps, dressed in a simple tee, jeans and a bomber jacket.

"Okay, miss attitude." Jongho laughs. "I'm trying to make it easier so you don't have to worry about parking and what not." San sighs.

"Thanks." He shrugs. "Do I look okay? Not that it matters."

"Can you at least try to be somewhat happy? Especially when we see Mingi later?"

"I'm sorry, I really am trying. Just kinda hard to."

"I know, and I truly think you could use this night to get your mind off of things. It's been some time, give yourself a little break." Jongho nudges him.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right." San gives him a small smile.

"Things will get better, but you gotta stop sulking about it or else you'll just keep enforcing this negativity to come for you."

"Wow, that's the deepest shit I've ever heard from you."

"And it won't come again, so fucking take it or leave it." San laughs a bit and shakes his head.

"Can we go? Before I change my mind and tell Mingi I'm sick or something."

"Hell no." Jongho starts power-walking to his car, making San take his time as he checks around the living room and kitchen once more before locking up and slipping into the passenger's seat. San slouches in his seat while Jongho drives off towards the busy downtown area, scrolling through the new group chat created for Mingi's birthday to catch up.

"They're all there already."

"Yeah, well. They wanted a head start."

"I thought Zara wasn't coming."

"She wasn't, but I think her initial plans ended up getting canceled."

"I see." San sighs and rests his head back against the head rest. The bar is ways away from campus, thankfully. It's a new bar that just opened a month ago, and Mingi's birthday was the perfect excuse for everyone to get together for a night and relieve some stress. When Jongho arrives at their destination, he's having to park down the block due to how crazy busy the area is tonight. It's a chilly night, and San has to tuck his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket to try and keep himself warm on the walk. When they enter, they see familiar faces near the back wall of the bar, Mingi's loud voice radiating towards the entrance.

"My fucking boys!" He says, already intoxicated. He pulls San and Jongho into a hug before the two start greeting the group properly.

"Hey. I didn't think you were coming." San says, pulling Zara into a hug. She's got on a jeans, high heeled boots and an off-the shoulder sweater on. She's got a bit more makeup on tonight— she's gone for the natural blush kinda look. San is not gonna lie, she looks good.

But, she will never be you.

"Yeah, plans got canceled and I was already dressed so, figured I'd make use of the outfit somehow." San chuckles a bit.

"Glad you were able to." He gives her a small smile before greeting the rest of the crew that was there, including Namjoon.

The night starts off pretty chill for San. He's taken a few shots to try and keep up with Mingi, no longer wanting to hear him complain about how no one wanted to take shots for his birthday. After the third, he tries to slow it down and cashes in for a small can of beer while Mingi continues on with spreading the love throughout the group by passing out more shots. The music is right up everyone's ally, making most of their group bounce along to the beats and sing along loudly. San's got himself next to Zara at the booth— both of them sipping on their poison for the rest of the night.

"So, San." She turns to him, her chin resting on the palm of her hand. "How's everything going?" San looks at her and despite the blush she's wearing, he can tell her cheeks are naturally flushing red at the question, at being tipsy. At the fact that she has him alone.

Because you aren't around.

"Good. Super busy, but good." San is pretty drunk, not gonna lie. He doesn't normally drink like this, but he figured he'd just enjoy himself while around his bestfriends. The beer obviously isn't helping his case, but he believes he'll be fine. He doesn't think anything will come out of this anyway. "Heard you've secured some new funding and you've got three more grad students."

"I did, yeah."

"Congrats." San smiles at her before gently tapping his beer can against her cocktail glass.

"What's new with you? We haven't been able to catch up for a bit."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just— it's been a rollercoaster."

"I bet." Zara sips on her drink. There's a slight pause before she's tracing the rim of her glass, then speaking up again. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened." San looks at her. They're sitting in close proximity; enough for San to feel her arm rub against him whenever she moves, her body heat.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything." He gives her a small smile. "It is what it is. Things are pretty stable now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"So, are you not seeing her anymore?" San takes a big gulp of his beer while keeping his eyes trained on the crowd in front of him. Her.

You always come back in the picture.

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"All good. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be." Zara looks up at him and they meet eyes for a moment. To her, the tension feels thick. But to San, he's just going with the motions. He's drunk, she's pretty, he's chillin'. Nothing more to it. But, she looks at him in a certain way and it has him slightly furrowing his brows when he tilts his head to look at her a little more, a little deeper.

"I'm sure it hasn't been easy." Her eyes are moving down to his nose, to his lips. San is following her gaze and he knows all too well where this could lead. He should've known to break contact, but before he could even think about it, Zara is the first to lean in and make her move— lips pressing against San's that he's instantly in shock and can't process right away.

But, what he does know is that this doesn't feel right, and his body is already rejecting the action because it isn't you.

"Zara—" San gently pushes Zara back with a frown on his face. "Zara, I can't. I— this can't happen. I'm sorry if I ever misled you, but—"

"Oh." She almost looks confused. "No, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, how embarrassing." She shies away. "I should've known."

"I'm sorry—" He tries to repeat again, but she's shaking her head and walking off towards the bathroom. "Fuck." He runs his hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. He feels terrible that it happened. One, it shouldn't have happened. Two, he didn't mean to hurt his friend.

Three, it wasn't you.

It sounds so fucked up, but even after all of that, his mind still takes him to you and he can't help but drunkly panic as if you were around to see it. It should've never happened, it should've never happened.

He didn't want that to happen.

They had been hanging out for awhile, but the last thing he wanted was to lead her on unintentionally. And he doesn't think he did, knowing she had feelings for him from the get-go. He was there for her and enjoyed her company, but kept enough distance to make sure it didn't cross any boundaries.

He didn't want that to happen.

He pushes his way through the crowd and finds his way outside, letting the cool air hit his skin. If he hadn't made his way out of the bar, he might've [quite frankly] yacked from the slight nausea and anxiety he's feeling. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, quickly scrolling through his call log to find your name.

You don't answer when he calls.

So, he texts.

san: i'm sorry

san: i miss you so badly

san: i miss us

san: zara kissed me and you're probably gonna hate me for it

san: i'm so sorry baby, pls come back to me i miss you. i don't fucking care anymore, i just need you.

you: san stop

you: get home safely okay?

san: no i want you with me though

you: san, please stop making this harder than it already is.

And then he calls again. Because for some reason, he feels like you already hate him and want nothing to do with him over a dumb 'lil mistake that he had no intention of making.

He calls again.

And again. Even when he's got his back pressed against the wall, crouching near the ground until he can hear your voice clearly on the other line. Zara steps out to get a breather, but she sees that he's already on the phone and it must be with you. She doesn't know why she expected anything out of that stupid, silly little kiss.

He was always gonna run back to you.

It was always gonna be you.

You finally answer, but it's because you think something's wrong and you don't want anything to happen to San.

You don't even know if you can stomach hearing him right now.

"Baby." He drunkly murmurs on the phone and it causes you to swallow the lump forming in your throat— shut your eyes to prevent any more tears from falling. "Sweetheart, you there?"

"San, stop this. That's all I'm asking from you." You shakily respond.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? You shouldn't be calling ne as if things are okay."

"But, they can be, angel. We can make it okay again."

"Please don't call me that." You barely say above a whisper, tears sting your eyes, throat aching. "If you need a ride, I can call you a cab."

"No. Mm'fine. I just wanted to hear your voice because I miss you so damn much."

"You're making this way too hard. Please just go home and get sleep, okay?"

"You're gonna hate me more than you already do."

"I don't hate you. But, whatever your business is with her, is your business with her. None of this pertains to me."

"I don't have business with her. I want you. I just want you. It's always you." You purse your lips tightly when you remember his text— of course Zara would take the opportunity, and now he's confessing his love to you.

All of this was so fucked up.

"I love you."

"San."

"You don't feel the same anymore?" You feel the burn in your throat when you take a moment to pause.

"Can you just put Jongho on the phone, please?"

"Why?" He whines.

"Because I need to make sure you get home safely." He clicks his teeth.

"Fine." He whines some more before he's calling out to Jongho and telling him his girl would like to have a word. "Think my girl is mad. C-can you tell her we can work this out? I-I don't want her mad anymore." In which Jongho follows with a quick 'yeah, ok' before snatching up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm sorry to trouble you with this, but can you please make sure he gets home in one piece? I think it's best he stops calling me, too."

"Of course. I'll stay with him."

"Thank you, Professor—"

"Jongho."

"Thank you, Jongho." You hang up the call and instantly toss your phone to the side before your tears start overflowing. You let the sheets swallow you whole before you cry.

And you just.. cry.

Until you tire yourself and fall asleep, even though you tried to stay up to make sure nothing else came in from San.

Nothing does, anyway.

Jongho throws San into the car and tells him to chill while he says his final goodbyes to everyone. Mingi, Yeosang and the rest of the group are laughing it off, assuming San is just drunk and slumped for the night. And he kinda is, but he's sad. He's completely heartbroken. He doesn't wanna be alone for the night, and Jongho says he'll take the guest room so he doesn't have to wallow in his drunkenness alone.

Yet, he still feels like he is.

When he gets home, he lazily kicks off his shoes and runs a quick shower. The world is still spinning more than he'd like, so he downs a whole water bottle before finishing up his routine and slipping under the sheets. Jongho has left him to his peace, also getting ready for bed in the guest bathroom and bedroom.

San can barely get comfortable because he can't even close his eyes and feel still for a second. He lies on his tummy, sprawled out across his bed since there's no use in leaving space for two.

He wishes he could.

Your side remains empty.

"You good?" Jongho pokes his head in to see a shirtless San facing the opposite way.

"Mhm." He mumbles. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Well, you know where to find me if you need anything." San stays silent, making Jongho shut his door gently before retreating to the bedroom.

San does know what he needs, though.

It's unfortunate your side remains empty.

Monday comes, and San is hoping he doesn't run into you.

He's hoping he doesn't run into you because he's not sure how to explain himself, and it's not like he can, anyway. But, it'll also make everything real for him— too real for his liking.

It'll be too real that he drunk texted you and called you, confessing his love after an incident that should've never happened in the first place.

It'll be too real that you aren't his.

It'll be too real that you never came to be by his side and that your side of the bed remains empty.

San sighs to himself as he quickly rushes into the Harvey Building, hurrying down to the basement and unlocking his office door. He sets his bags down and plops onto his chair, getting settled for the day. He couldn't sleep last night, so he decided to get up before the sun rose to workout in the faculty gym. He might've pushed himself a little harder than usual, his arms already feeling the soreness from the upper body workout he did. He'll be extra tired today, but at least his day will fly by with the shit he has to do.

He just hopes he doesn't run into you.

Because somehow, when he sees you, time stops and he feels frozen.

He lets out a sigh and starts working on a few progress reports that are literally due tomorrow. He's gotten through most of it and thankfully, just needs to add a few more details before sending it off. He also just got word that he won an award, and the foundation has been asking for a bunch of material to get ready for the award ceremony in a few months.

He hopes he can still share that news with you at some point.

Until then, he'll gather some childhood and school photos, candids he has from being in the classroom and doing lectures, other award photos; you know the deal. He's gotta write an acceptance speech that's 500-600 words and lasts about 2-3 minutes, plus answer a bunch of questions on a sheet they sent him.

It takes up a good chunk of his early morning that he's grabbing coffee right before his meeting with Namjoon and Jongho about the new program and real estate. He mutters a quick 'oh shit' to himself when he looks down at his watch, wrapping up his last thoughts before switching his desktop computer to sleep mode and gathering his phone and badge. When he slips out of his office, he finds the basement office more packed than usual. Lots of his lab members are meeting with people from other labs to collaborate or get guidance on a project. Sunwoo is busying himself with the data on his computer, working on his next data presentation for the lab meeting next week. He's noticed that him and Belle don't talk anymore, and he wonders why; he has an inkling it has to do with you, but he won't pry unless he hears about it somehow.

They all toss their 'hello's' his way while he rushes out to grab his coffee before making his way to the electrical engineering building.

Luckily, the walk is quiet.

San sips on his coffee and makes his way into a room that Jongho booked for their meeting. He's not here yet, but Namjoon isn't either, so San sits at the table by himself— mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He hasn't deleted your text thread [call him crazy], and he still has all your photos in his album. He hasn't changed the 'Baby 💕' listed as your contact name, he hasn't changed his home wallpaper that consists of a shot from behind you looking out at the beach view.

It's all equally tearing him apart and getting him by at the same time.

He can't seem to get his mind off of you and it makes him think that the universe is playing some kind of sick, twisted game with him.

Or, maybe it's a sign that he just has to accept his feelings for you. That you were always gonna be the one for him no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it couldn't work—

"Ayo." Namjoon pulls him out of his thoughts when he walks in and plops down on a seat next to him.

"Sup."

"I see Jongho's running a bit late." San checks his texts to see the unread 'running a few mins late - be there soon' text from the man himself.

"Yeah. I almost forgot myself. Was too busy getting the award materials together." Namjoon smiles.

"That's a big one. Definitely deserved."

"Thanks, boss."

"How's everything else?"

"Good, I guess." But Namjoon can see it's deeper than that, and San isn't all that great at hiding his true feelings.

"You guess?"

"Yeah, why?" He looks at Namjoon.

"She's doing great."

"Is she?"

"Yeah, really."

"That's good to hear."

"Qi Jaemi from Mirae reached out and is recruiting Y/N into their program. She started a clinical study not too long ago that's moving fast, and the work that Y/N has done in our labs is incredibly beneficial and relates well to what she's focused on. She offered to support her and give her a research assistant position while she's studying for extra financial support." Namjoon meets San's eyes. "I think she'd flourish and do amazing in it. Can't let her talents go to waste."

"I agree." San shifts in his seat. "So, she'll be transferring?"

"Yeah, sounds like. It's promising and I told her she has my support. I think she's gonna take it and not backtrack."

"T-that's great. I hope she does." San says.

"I'll need your help with writing a rec letter for her transfer application. If that's okay."

"Yeah, of course. Anything." He is truly happy for you and thinks it's the best move, especially for a very well known professor like Professor Qi. After everything, he's glad your work is still being recognized and that you're opening new doors to different opportunities.

He hopes you do move forward with it.

Selfishly enough, he hopes you take it and this will eventually lead you two back together. To a time where you don't have to hide your relationship and be loved undercover.

To a time where you two could just be happy without any outside noise.

"You miss her?"

"I do." San barely responds. "I really do, and I don't know how I'm supposed to get past this. I tried, Joon. I can't let her go." He sighs.

"Listen, I can't tell you what to do anymore. My job doesn't include policing you down to the T. Things have settled and brushed over, but it doesn't mean the dean isn't watching you or her. Luckily, if she takes this, it won't be as big of a deal as it is now while she's a student here. He'd still wanna make sure you aren't getting distracted, though."

"Okay.. but that's great, right? Things have settled for the both of us." Namjoon sighs. "If she takes the opportunity, it changes everything."

"Yes, which is why.. whatever you do, please just remember not to mess this up for her or you. The both of you are on great paths right now."

"It was never my intention to do so in the first place. I wanna add value to her life, not take away from it."

"So, what are you trying to say?"

"I love her."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated @randajjjad

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year ago

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The Best News of Last Week - November 28, 2023

🐑 - Why did Fiona the sheep become a mountaineer? She was tired of the "baa-d" jokes at sea level!

1. Pope Francis dines with transgender women for Vatican luncheon

Pope Francis hosted a group of transgender women — many of whom are sex workers or migrants from Latin America — to a Vatican luncheon for the Catholic Church's "World Day of the Poor" last week.

The pontiff and the transgender women have formed a close relationship since the pope came to their aid during the COVID-19 pandemic, when they were unable to work. Now, they meet monthly for VIP visits with the pope and receive medicine, money and shampoo any day, according to The Associated Press.

2. New York just installed its first offshore wind turbine

The first wind turbine installation at South Fork Wind, New York State’s first offshore wind farm, is complete.

The 130-megawatt (MW) South Fork Wind will be the US’s first completed utility-scale wind farm in federal waters.

3. Anonymous businessman donates $800k to struggling food bank

But this Thanksgiving, a longtime prayer of food bank leaders was finally answered: an anonymous benefactor donated the full $800,000 they needed to move out of a facility they've long outgrown. That benefactor, however, preferred to stay anonymous.

"Very private company, really don't want attention," said Debbie Christian, executive director of the Auburn Food Bank. "It's a goodhearted person that just wants to see the work here continue, wants to see it expand."

4. Empowering woman saving hopes and mental health of suffering Ukrainian kids

Kenza Hadij-Brahim is at the forefront of promoting Circle of Toys

Hadj-Brahim is helping to launch the Circle of Toys initiative. A project that provides Ukrainian children in need of some normality with preloved toys. This new initiative connects people with old toys they might otherwise throw away, with Ukrainian families in need who want to provide some comfort to their children in this distressing time.

Find Refuge said : “The endeavour is driven by a sincere purpose: spark joy, foster play, and bring a hint of normalcy back to the young lives in Ukraine.”

5. TWO LOST CITIES HIDDEN FOR CENTURIES WERE JUST DISCOVERED IN BOLIVIA

Researchers have found these areas not only housed structures and pyramids but it has been uncovered that there were advanced irrigation systems, earthworks, large towns, causeways, and canals that cover miles.

Dr. Heiko Prümers from the German Archaeological Institute, who was also involved in the study comments that “this indicated a relatively dense settlement in pre-Hispanic times. Our goal was to conduct basic research and trace the settlements and life there. The research sheds light on the sheer magnitude and magnificence of the civic-ceremonial centers found buried in the forest”.

6. Sheep dubbed Fiona rescued from cliff in Scotland where she was stuck for more than 2 years

youtube

And at last, some positive climate news:

7. Three positive climate developments

Heating

When the Paris Agreement was adopted, the global reliance on fossil fuels placed the world on a path towards a 3.5C rise in temperature by 2100. Eight years on, country commitments to reduce their carbon footprints have pulled that down slightly, putting the world on a path for a 2.5C to 2.9C by the end of the century.

Peak emissions

Annual greenhouse gas emissions responsible for climate change have risen roughly nine percent since COP21, according to UN data. But the rate of the increase has slowed significantly. Recent estimates by the Climate Analytics institute find global emissions could peak by 2024

Rising renewables

Three technologies—solar, wind and electric vehicles—are largely behind the improved global warming estimates since 2015.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

#best news of last week #Youtube

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dawnfelagund · 5 months ago

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My Open-Source Tolkien Studies Data Sets

One of the best parts of being an independent scholar is that I get to be generous with my research. I am not counting on it for a job, and frankly, between teaching at a small rural school and running the Silmarillion Writers' Guild, I will likely never be able to do all that I want to do with the data that I collect and so love the idea that someone might do something with it.

Because I do love making sets of data. Everything from the mind-numbing copy/paste data entry to learning new spreadsheet formulas is enjoyable to me. I'm an introvert in a very extraverted profession, and after a day of being all on for my students, turning everything into numbers is like a cup of tea under a warm blanket with a Golden Retriever at my feet.

So please use these data sets if they interest you. Play with them. Write about and share what you notice. Expand and build on them. Publish using them. If you use my data or work, credit Dawn Walls-Thumma and link to my website, dawnfelagund.com, if possible. I'd also love if you'd let me know if you share anything using them.

Consolidated Timelines. I made this back in 2013. I was trying to arrange all of Tolkien's timelines side by side. I did some weird things with numbers that I'm not sure I fully understand now, but maybe you can make sense of this or maybe you just want everything Tolkien said about timelines in one handy document. (Make a copy of the Consolidated Timelines.)

Fanfiction Archive Timeline. Made for the 2023 Fan Studies Network North America conference, this timeline-on-a-spreadsheet shows archives in the Tolkien and Harry Potter fandoms, multifandom archives, and social networks and when they came online, were active, became inactive, and went offline, along with data about affiliated communities, software, and rescue efforts. I update this timeline annually with that year's data and will continue to add new archives when I have enough data to do so. (Make a copy of the Fanfiction Archive Timeline spreadsheet.)

References to Sources in the Works of J.R.R. Tolkien. In this document, I record each time a narrator's source is mentioned or alluded to. Ideally, this will one day include The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings as well! For now, it is just The Silmarillion for the selfish reason that I'm predominantly a Silmarillion researcher. (Make a copy of the References to Sources.)

Silmarillion Characters. A list of all of the characters in The Silmarillion, demographic data about them, the number of times they are mentioned, various aliases, and which "books" of The Silmarillion they appear in. The latter part is a work-in-progress. (Make a copy of Silmarillion Characters.)

Silmarillion Death Scenes (spreadsheet | document). For last year's Tolkien at UVM and Oxonmoot conferences, I collected every death scene in the Quenta Silmarillion and recorded various details about character demographics, cause of death, and grief and mourning rituals. (Make a copy of the spreadsheet. Make a copy of the document.)

The Silmarillion: Who Speaks? This is my newest project, which I hope to complete by the end of the year, documenting which characters get to speak actual words, the number of words they speak, and demographics about the speaking characters. Eventually, I would like to include as well characters who are mentioned as having spoken without being given actual dialogue, but one step at a time. Again, this is a work-in-progress. I have just started working on it. Come back in 2025 and, hopefully, there will be interesting stuff to see.

#tolkien #silmarillion #tolkien meta week

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dandelionsresilience · 4 months ago

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Dandelion News - January 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. In Chicago, all city buildings now use 100 percent clean power

“As of January 1, every single one of [Chicago’s municipal buildings] — including 98 fire stations, two international airports, and two of the largest water treatment plants on the planet — is running on renewable energy, thanks largely to Illinois’ newest and largest solar farm.”

2. California Rice Fields Offer Threatened Migratory Waterbirds a Lifeline

“Cranes need nighttime roosting sites flooded to a depth of about 3 to 9 inches, so they can easily hear or feel predators moving through the water. [... Bird Returns pays] farmers to flood their fields during critical migration periods [... and] provide foraging sites by leaving harvested rice or corn fields untilled, so cranes can access the leftover grain.”

3. New York Climate Superfund Becomes Law

“[Funds recovered “from major oil and gas companies” will be used to pay for] the restoration of stormwater drainage and sewage treatment systems, upgrades to transit systems, roads and bridges, the installation of green spaces to mitigate city heat islands and even medical coverage and preventative health programs for illnesses and injuries induced by climate change.”

4. Austin says retooled process for opening overnight cold-weather shelters is paying off

“[... T]he city's moves to lower the temperature threshold to open shelters and announce their activation at least a day in advance were the result of community feedback. [Shelter operators also passed out hot food.]”

5. Helping Communities Find Funding for Nature-Based Solutions

““From coastal oyster reefs to urban stormwater greenways, nature-based solutions are becoming the new normal.” That’s because these types of projects are often less expensive to build and have additional community benefits, such as improving water quality or creating parkland.”

6. Saving the Iberian lynx: How humans rescued this rare feline from extinction

“Back in the early 2000s, fewer than 100 individuals roamed the wild, including only 25 reproductive females. [...] Conservation staff [...] shape these cats into resourceful hunters and get them ready for life outside the center. [...] They’re fine-tuning captive-breeding routines, improving veterinary procedures, and pushing for more wildlife corridors.”

7. Biden cancels student loans for 150,000 more borrowers

“The 150,000 new beneficiaries announced Monday include more than 80,000 borrowers who were cheated or defrauded by their schools, over 60,000 borrowers with total and permanent disabilities and more than 6,000 public service workers[...] bringing the number whose student debt has been canceled during [Biden’s] administration to over 5 million[....]”

8. PosiGen wins another $200M for lower-income rooftop solar

“PosiGen offers a “no credit check” [solar panel installation to] those with a higher percentage of their income going to power and fuel bills[....] “somewhere between 25 and 75 percent” of the consumer’s monthly energy savings could come from efficiency measures such as sealing heating and cooling leaks, replacing thermostats, and installing LED lights[....]”

9. Indigenous communities come together to protect the Colombian Amazon

“At this year’s COP, Indigenous peoples celebrated the [protection of] traditional knowledge, innovations and practices[... and] the Cali Fund, which ensures that communities, including Indigenous peoples, receive benefits from the commercial use of [...] genetic data derived from the biological resources that they have long stewarded.”

10. How the heartland of Poland’s coal industry is ditching fossil fuels - without sacrificing jobs

“[Katowice, a former coal city] committed to reducing CO2 emissions by 40 per cent compared to 1990, prioritising investments in green infrastructure, and promoting renewable energy and energy efficiency. [...”]The gradual departure from heavy industry did not bring high social costs in our city,” says Marcin Krupa, Mayor of Katowice City.”

January 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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snotbuggle · 1 year ago

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Omega when she gets to jail and realizes that she now has to big sister four other children. One of which is nowhere near her age.

Going to try and condense some more serious thoughts about these episodes down below so I can avoid spoiling someone as much as possible and not post a dozen times. I don’t want to miss tag any one of those.

Jex/Jek?? I can’t completely remember his name, but the mirialan kid is for sure not going to trust her at all. Can’t say much for the pantoran kid since they haven’t shown much of them so far, but Eva is going to love her.

I think the mirialan kid is definitely going to be skeptical of Omega’s prior knowledge of the facility, Emerie, and why they’re there. Although he might overlook these things hanging on her promise that her brothers will get her, and in turn them, out of there. I can’t help but wonder what Omega and the others will think after about a week and there still not being a rescue. (These two are assuming that she will be placed with the other force sensitive children. Although she may be moved since her blood actually works for project Necromancer)

Crosshair is definitely going to hear it from Hunter. ESPECIALLY after he threw Hunter’s past failure to keep her out of Tantiss in his face. What I think will weigh on his conscience more though is the fact he thinks she’ll be alone this time. In a way she definitely will, but I have no doubt that he realizes he was probably the highlight of her day. He was probably the one thing that kept her hopeful even if he tried to talk down on her and get her to leave. Yes, she had hope that Hunter and Wrecker would find her, but she also needed someone there with her. A familiar face and not someone who just revealed they were your sister out of the blue. Her situation has changed, but Crosshair doesn’t know that. The Crosshair guilt is going to be so real in these last episodes.

Switching gears, CX agents are always a cool and interesting topic for me. While the identity of CX-2 isn’t usually as engaging, I have to say that I’ve drifted from the standpoint of “there’s no way that’s Tech” to “it’s a possibility” over the course of the last two episodes. I’ve seen some fun ideas for who it is otherwise. Personally, I think that they’re probably just another copy paste man with no autonomy anymore.

ANYHOW! I haven’t seen anyone talk about it much, but the scene with Hemlock reviewing the CX agent data and the capsule has me thinking a little harder on their creation/conditioning. The way Hemlock talks about the other operatives as well. “The others aren’t ready to join you” (paraphrasing) seems to show that after the mental conditioning through obviously brutal means, it takes a load of time to physically condition the agents. Seeing as CX-1 was most likely initiated around the same time as Crosshair (I choose to believe that they were near each other’s tables which is why they’re familiar), that took around five months to half a year. In that time span there had to be a lot of soldiers who Hemlock saw fit to be “reprogrammed” but we see very few operatives throughout. This means that if they make it out of mental conditioning, physical conditioning is most likely very dangerous and often times fatal. I’d like to draw attention to the capsules as a part of that physical conditioning. There were several capsules that Hemlock was observing, along with the foggy one that is most likely that new Huyang-lookin-ass operative. If these capsules are the final stage of physical conditioning, it adds meaning to CX-2’s first line, “Why have I been activated?” (Once again paraphrasing). Although the capsules could be for something else entirely.

Also a bit of a gripe, why in the world do you need a new secret-secret operative, Hemlock? You have the commandos, and then the first X troopers, now the CX’s, and what? You wanted a new one? I can’t tell if this man is an overachiever or just way too absorbed into the advanced trooper rabbit hole. Also for you Tech theorists, it’s kinda suspicious that he makes a new version of agents isn’t it? Almost like there’s something…deviant about him?

Completely side tracking here, I really like Phee’s awareness in the station. Yeah she didn’t hear the blaring alarm, but she was in a room where it’d be hard to hear anyways. However, when she got back she felt something was off about the ramp. We’ve seen how slick CX-2 is, so her noticing something is up was a nice touch imo. Also was very appreciative of her caution and readiness with her knife. I love when female characters get to be aware of their surroundings and ready to throw hands if things go south.

In conclusion, thank you for listening to my dump-rambling. I’ve been trying to keep my lips shut so I don’t miss tag anything and spoil it for someone (because I know that I’ll forget to tag everything right). I hope Wrecker is okay. And even if I’m not a Tech CX theorist, I have to admit that I’ve been seeing some fairly strong parallels.

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wolven91 · 1 year ago

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Thick as Thieves

"Have you seen this human?" Asked the canid officer to the whole crowd, the dyed red ear confirming that the canid was in it for the long haul.

A fanatic to the GC.

The small data slate the canid held in his hand that he held in the air for all to see was projecting a small picture a few inches above it. It showed a human in full detail, slowly rotating. The entire bar had gone quiet the moment the Galactic Community officer and his retinue had appeared in the doorway. All eyes on them until they had declared their business.

The canid was a zealot, which meant his team would be to. Zealots and norms don't mix. One finds the other either too much, or not enough. The ursidain all but blocked the door meaning even if a fight broke out, there would be no reinforcements from beyond the single room unless the GC team wanted them.

As it turned out, the GC team's business was bounty hunting.

"We have a substantial reward for the whereabouts, or credible information that leads to the whereabouts of the human known as 'Bruno' or any human that has interacted with him."

The hyenid on the opposite side of the bar merely took another long draught of their golden amber as the creature spoke, blinking slowly and unimpressed. It wasn't their problem, and they had no love for the GC nor the canid currently appealing to the patrons' wallets.

"He is wanted for questioning for the destruction of an entire species' development, along with assisting an armed assault and capture of a GC S-a-R vessel. The people on board were not soldiers, they were doctors. Rescue workers." The canid continued, slowly stalking deeper into the dive, seemingly not satisfied that the occupants had seen the hologram, nor heard the story.

In truth, the hyenid hadn't. They'd heard of the infamous 'Bruno', of course, but the version of the story they'd heard was not from a GC mouthpiece and was substantially different. The fiks didn't tell the story often, to the point where most almost outright claimed that 'Bruno', their prophet, didn't even exist.

"He's also wanted for a slew of other crimes including sexual interactions with a non-sentient creature. Conspiracy to distribute peanut bu-"

"Saah! Lies!" Cried a fik from a dark corner, the large creature jumping up onto its table and resting a clawed foot against the back rest of the neighbouring booth. In its hands were a chipped, but still dangerous looking sword and a curved axe, a wicked spike cut into the blade at the bottom. The sword would engage a target before the axe would be swung in a long arc until the spike was behind the target. The fik would then yank their arm back, puncturing any standard issue armour with the sharpened point.

The hyenid grinned as a point in their side twinged in memory. Fiks. Cheeky fuckers the lot of them. They took another slurp of their drink.

"Do you have something to say? Fik?" Demanded the officer, whilst the fik's tail was grabbed and pulled by its brethren who were sat at the same table.

"Saaah... Bruno has not... had interactions with animals!"

"His own admission on his rescue confirmed that he bedded several fiks before they were uplifted." The officer's snout curled back as he narrowed his eyes. "Your kind still aren't part of the GC. You're basically animals still..." Baited the officer.

"No one 'er's seen ya' stupid 'ooman. Fuck off." Called the hyenid over the rim of her drink before the fik could say or do something they'd regret. The canid's head turned their way and he lost interest in the fik now that they were less likely to give him reason to take action.

"The experiment speaks."

"Say's the paw licker."

The officer snarled again and marched up to the corner of the bar, just on the other side of the hyenid. He was mere inches away from where they sat on a stool. Wisely, he kept the bar between himself and them. For all he knew, they had a holdout weapon. Something short and stubby. Something loud. Something that could break a wrist if fired one hand, but preferable to nothing in a fight.

The canid dropped his voice into a low, gravelly rumble.

"No surprise your kind are now slumming it with these things, you fucking experiment." The canid sneered. The hyenid merely sighed into the now mostly empty stein. They hated dregs and wanted another, but the barman had disappeared and would likely remain gone until the threat of a fight was over.

"Tha's fuckin' rich." They belched loudly, directly into the face of the officer before tightening their lips and ensuring every speck of dead space was breathed out into the officer face. "Comin' from ya'. GC ain't welcom' 'er. The only thin' ya' gonna' get 'er is mocked."

The canid held her gaze, his eyes burning with barely contained rage. But he was GC. He had rules. His precious devotion to them had him follow those rules until otherwise. As a sanctioned bounty hunter, he had more freedom than most; but not enough to warranty attacking a bar full of people who hadn't actually touched him.

Crescent Station would throw the GC off of it if they got wind of a GC officer abusing his rights.

It was why the place was so popular with the folk who lived on the very edges of the GC's over extended reach.

The canid licked his chops and huffed before turning away and stalking back out, but not before he threw one last jab over his shoulder.

"Put clothes on you animal."

The hyenid glanced down at their naked torso and pulled a face, more confused than anything else. If they were a uniformed GC agent, fine, clothes come with the job, but they weren't?

Once the officer had disappeared, the hyenid waited before leaning back, away from the bar and addressed the space between their knees.

"Ya' okay?" They asked.

"Yeah thanks! That was intense!" Said the human that was the spitting image of the wanted hologram. Except he'd gained a tattoo on his neck and a ring pericing on his eyebrow.

"Nah, tha' wan' intense. Tha' were a prick." The hyenid sniffed as the fik clan broke from.the corner and went to see where the officer had gone.

"Do you want your top back?" Asked Bruno.

"Nah, he'll smell ya' before ya' get back to ya' ship. Keep it on n' keep ya' 'ead down." The hyenid explained, shuffling backward so the tiny human could get out.

"Was that the only reason he didn't find me?"

"Yeah, look, ya' mates are callin' ya'. See ya' later."

The human gave a soft smile and a short wave before running the length of the bar and being swept into the long coat of one of the fiks, disappearing from view.

The hyenids had found staunch allies with the fiks, and with the GC breathing down both of their collective necks, anything a hyenid could do to piss them off was a pleasure to do.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #hyenid #hyena #fik #rat

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codenamesazanka · 9 months ago

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thoughts on the chapter

“these differences, both internal and external, allow us to run towards other people and search for a point of intersection” kid out of 8 chapters you spoke like 5 sentences to Shigaraki. What intersection. (I know, I know - the crying child. the only thing Deku can care about.)

Aizawa and Mic visiting Shirakumo's grave

Compress reading Spinner's book with a sad smile...

Did villains just magically stop appearing? because AFO is gone? Because everyone is a bit nicer to each other? Because the rankings got expanded and now everyone wants to get the Eiyuu title?

Shoji says "This award goes to those who rose up 8 years ago." GEE SHOJI. I WONDER WHO IT WAS THAT GOT THEM TO SHOW UP IN THE FIRST PLACE.

I know he's thinking of the heteromorphs that stopped that day. But i just. can't get over the fact that it was Spinner's call to action that inspired them first to even come out.

"peacefully resolving prejudice-based incidents in the rural areas" Peacefully telling a man to put down the rake they're about to hit a heteromorph child with.

I know the intention is de-escalation or something. And that's a good thing! Ideally I don't want the man holding the rake to be smashed into the ground. I don't want the dumbasses spray painting slurs on a wall to be punched around. But the word peaceful here feels like it implies that... it would be victim's fault if they use force to resist violent discrimination. Equal responsibility on all parties and it's up to Shoji, it depends on Shoji to resolve it nonviolently. The originator of the violence doesn't enter the equation.

idk. rubs me the wrong way.

Did Shoji resolve the heteromorph riot peacefully? Not really. He fought Spinner (ah, you might say - well, Spinner was using violence! Shoji has to react to that with punching as well! Yeah. That's what I mean.) Koda had birds shoved someone off a building. What actually stopped everything was one rioter feeling doubts. It's credited to Shoji's words, but Shoji also admits that it's good they showed up and in the chapter here, he calls it an "uprising".

And they showed up because of Spinner.

Well. Maybe Shoji turned to "peaceful resolves" afterwards.

Just to clarify so that no one misunderstands me. Peaceful resolutions are good. I'm glad that's how Shoji is stopping anti-heteromorph incidents. What I dislike is the shallow framing.

"Quirk Counseling Expansion Project" EXPANSION???

Toga became the way she was because she didn't go to Quirk Counseling enough. Needed Expansion. The counselor saying she'll make Toga "nice and normal" didn't go far enough. Needed Expansion.

Again, I get that probably reform is implied in that, or the intent is probably expanding the concept/ideas/tools/methods/scope to include better methods. But wow.

All Might + Crowd of Supporter Statues is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.

Story literally breaking the ending fourth wall to give a happy ending to Deku.

I expect the volume extras to have Shigaraki to come and decay the ending and rescue the league.

It's amazing how the answer to "can someone quirkless be a hero" is a NO. Because Deku's feeling sad and lonely being quirkless and just a teacher and saving a kid from tripping and encouraging a future student. It's not enough. It's not Heroism. So he gets a support item and gets to be a Hero again

And then Shigaraki's Star Wars ghost is just there, not tied into the theme happening on page because Deku failed to saved the fucking guy, but he remembers Shigaraki. for one panel.

Just to repeat this because it's hysterical: This ending is "Can a quirkless person be a hero (and be happy and feel worthy?)" We get a gentle bittersweet but resounding NO. Until All Might comes again to help him out with a 'gift'.

"Remember that day when I used support items to inject acid into an immortal child demon on global TV? The day that you killed a man? Well, data from that day made you this support item. Use it to be a Hero."

Also being a quirkless Hero after all depends on knowing people and having lots of money.

All Might is now about 64 years old.

Shigaraki ghost...........

Something about shigaraki in his original outfit has me all choked up.

That's the appearance he chose to present as in the vestige realm before he disappeared.

The appearance he had in that flashback of him and Spinner bonding over games.

I like how Deku looks back, sees the ghost, but then turns forward and smile. Not even a smile as he's looking at shigaraki. I know this is nitpicky. jfc tho.

"You already destroyed it"/"That depends on what you guys do from now on." I see that there's barely any credit to Shigaraki forcing this amount of change in this chapter. As far as I can see, Deku barely thinks about Shigaraki or even Tenko this chapter. Shigaraki's just a ghost hidden vaguely in all this.

"I'll never forget" lol. The ghost is just like an afterthought from the story to make sure Deku keeps his 'promise'

I don't think a single villain's name is mentioned here. Not a single League member's. Uravity's work towards quirk counseling is not publicly or explicitly credited to her experience with Toga (the vaguest of implication). We don't know Dabi's fate and Shouto is only known as "Endeavor's son" - which might be good? because it's Endeavor's who was the main perpetrator, but still. Spinner lead the uprising but Shoji doesn't mention that. Spinner wrote his book but there's no impact, except for making Compress smile sadly and that's it. Twice has been long forgotten. Deku thinks of Shigaraki's words at the beginning of the chapter, then sees his ghost at the end, but otherwise, nothing.

Truly they've been swept under the rug. A lid put over everything.

Whatever!!!! Shigaraki and the League - the absolute best part of bnha.

#nalslastworkingbraincell #spoilers #bnha spoilers

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fireflysummers · 1 year ago

Text

Heroes, Gods, and the Invisible Narrator

Slay the Princess as a Framework for the Cyclical Reproduction of Colonialist Narratives in Data Science & Technology

An Essay by FireflySummers

All images are captioned.

Content Warnings: Body Horror, Discussion of Racism and Colonialism

Spoilers for Slay the Princess (2023) by @abby-howard and Black Tabby Games.

If you enjoy this article, consider reading my guide to arguing against the use of AI image generators or the academic article it's based on.

Introduction: The Hero and the Princess

You're on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess. You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Slay the Princess is a 2023 indie horror game by Abby Howard and published through Black Tabby Games, with voice talent by Jonathan Sims (yes, that one) and Nichole Goodnight.

The game starts with you dropped without context in the middle of the woods. But that’s alright. The Narrator is here to guide you. You are the hero, you have your weapon, and you have a monster to slay.

From there, it's the player's choice exactly how to proceed--whether that be listening to the voice of the narrator, or attempting to subvert him. You can kill her as instructed, or sit and chat, or even free her from her chains.

It doesn't matter.

Regardless of whether you are successful in your goal, you will inevitably (and often quite violently) die.

And then...

You are once again on a path in the woods.

The cycle repeats itself, the narrator seemingly none the wiser. But the woods are different, and so is the cabin. You're different, and worse... so is she.

Based on your actions in the previous loop, the princess has... changed. Distorted.

Had you attempted a daring rescue, she is now a damsel--sweet and submissive and already fallen in love with you.

Had you previously betrayed her, she has warped into something malicious and sinister, ready to repay your kindness in full.

But once again, it doesn't matter.

Because the no matter what you choose, no matter how the world around you contorts under the weight of repeated loops, it will always be you and the princess.

Why? Because that’s how the story goes.

So says the narrator.

So now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about data.

Chapter I: Echoes and Shattered Mirrors

The problem with "data" is that we don't really think too much about it anymore. Or, at least, we think about it in the same abstract way we think about "a billion people." It's gotten so big, so seemingly impersonal that it's easy to forget that contemporary concept of "data" in the west is a phenomenon only a couple centuries old [1].

This modern conception of the word describes the ways that we translate the world into words and numbers that can then be categorized and analyzed. As such, data has a lot of practical uses, whether that be putting a rover on mars or tracking the outbreak of a viral contagion. However, this functionality makes it all too easy to overlook the fact that data itself is not neutral. It is gathered by people, sorted into categories designed by people, and interpreted by people. At every step, there are people involved, such that contemporary technology is embedded with systemic injustices, and not always by accident.

The reproduction of systems of oppression are most obvious from the margins. In his 2019 article As If, Ramon Amaro describes the Aspire Mirror (2016): a speculative design project by by Joy Buolamwini that contended with the fact that the standard facial recognition algorithm library had been trained almost exclusively on white faces. The simplest solution was to artificially lighten darker skin-tones for the algorithm to recognize, which Amaro uses to illustrate the way that technology is developed with an assumption of whiteness [2].

This observation applies across other intersections as well, such as trans identity [3], which has been colloquially dubbed "The Misgendering Machine" [4] for its insistence on classifying people into a strict gender binary based only on physical appearance.

This has also popped up in my own research, brought to my attention by the artist @b4kuch1n who has spoken at length with me about the connection between their Vietnamese heritage and the clothing they design in their illustrative work [5]. They call out AI image generators for reinforcing colonialism by stripping art with significant personal and cultural meaning of their context and history, using them to produce a poor facsimile to sell to the highest bidder.

All this describes an iterative cycle which defines normalcy through a white, western lens, with a limited range of acceptable diversity. Within this cycle, AI feeds on data gathered under colonialist ideology, then producing an artifact that reinforces existing systemic bias. When this data is, in turn, once again fed to the machine, that bias becomes all the more severe, and the range of acceptability narrower [2, 6].

Luciana Parisi and Denise Ferreira da Silva touch on a similar point in their article Black Feminist Tools, Critique, and Techno-poethics but on a much broader scale. They call up the Greek myth of Prometheus, who was punished by the gods for his hubris for stealing fire to give to humanity. Parisi and Ferreira da Silva point to how this, and other parts of the “Western Cosmology” map to humanity’s relationship with technology [7].

However, while this story seems to celebrate the technological advancement of humanity, there are darker colonialist undertones. It frames the world in terms of the gods and man, the oppressor and the oppressed; but it provides no other way of being. So instead the story repeats itself, with so-called progress an inextricable part of these two classes of being. This doesn’t bode well for visions of the future, then–because surely, eventually, the oppressed will one day be the machines [7, 8].

It’s… depressing. But it’s only really true, if you assume that that’s the only way the story could go.

“Stories don't care who takes part in them. All that matters is that the story gets told, that the story repeats. Or, if you prefer to think of it like this: stories are a parasitical life form, warping lives in the service only of the story itself.” ― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Chapter II: The Invisible Narrator

So why does the narrator get to call the shots on how a story might go? Who even are they? What do they want? How much power do they actually have?

With the exception of first person writing, a lot of the time the narrator is invisible. This is different from an unreliable narrator. With an unreliable narrator, at some point the audience becomes aware of their presence in order for the story to function as intended. An invisible narrator is never meant to be seen.

In Slay the Princess, the narrator would very much like to be invisible. Instead, he has been dragged out into the light, because you (and the inner voices you pick up along the way), are starting to argue with him. And he doesn’t like it.

Despite his claims that the princess will lie and cheat in order to escape, as the game progresses it’s clear that the narrator is every bit as manipulative–if not moreso, because he actually knows what’s going on. And, if the player tries to diverge from the path that he’s set before them, the correct path, then it rapidly becomes clear that he, at least to start, has the power to force that correct path.

While this is very much a narrative device, the act of calling attention to the narrator is important beyond that context.

The Hero’s Journey is the true monomyth, something to which all stories can be reduced. It doesn’t matter that the author, Joseph Campbell, was a raging misogynist whose framework flattened cultures and stories to fit a western lens [9, 10]. It was used in Star Wars, so clearly it’s a universal framework.

The metaverse will soon replace the real world and crypto is the future of currency! Never mind that the organizations pushing it are suspiciously pyramid shaped. Get on board or be left behind.

Generative AI is pushed as the next big thing. The harms it inflicts on creatives and the harmful stereotypes it perpetuates are just bugs in the system. Never mind that the evangelists for this technology speak over the concerns of marginalized people [5]. That’s a skill issue, you gotta keep up.

Computers will eventually, likely soon, advance so far as to replace humans altogether. The robot uprising is on the horizon [8].

Who perpetuates these stories? What do they have to gain?

Why is the only story for the future replications of unjust systems of power? Why must the hero always slay the monster?

Because so says the narrator. And so long as they are invisible, it is simple to assume that this is simply the way things are.

Chapter III: The End...?

This is the part where Slay the Princess starts feeling like a stretch, but I’ve already killed the horse so I might as well beat it until the end too.

Because what is the end result here?

According to the game… collapse. A recursive story whose biases narrow the scope of each iteration ultimately collapses in on itself. The princess becomes so sharp that she is nothing but blades to eviscerate you. The princess becomes so perfect a damsel that she is a caricature of the trope. The story whittles itself away to nothing. And then the cycle begins anew.

There’s no climactic final battle with the narrator. He created this box, set things in motion, but he is beyond the player’s reach to confront directly. The only way out is to become aware of the box itself, and the agenda of the narrator. It requires acknowledgement of the artificiality of the roles thrust upon you and the Princess, the false dichotomy of hero or villain.

Slay the Princess doesn’t actually provide an answer to what lies outside of the box, merely acknowledges it as a limit that can be overcome.

With regards to the less fanciful narratives that comprise our day-to-day lives, it’s difficult to see the boxes and dichotomies we’ve been forced into, let alone what might be beyond them. But if the limit placed is that there are no stories that can exist outside of capitalism, outside of colonialism, outside of rigid hierarchies and oppressive structures, then that limit can be broken [12].

Denouement: Doomed by the Narrative

Video games are an interesting artistic medium, due to their inherent interactivity. The commonly accepted mechanics of the medium, such as flavor text that provides in-game information and commentary, are an excellent example of an invisible narrator. Branching dialogue trees and multiple endings can help obscure this further, giving the player a sense of genuine agency… which provides an interesting opportunity to drag an invisible narrator into the light.

There are a number of games that have explored the power differential between the narrator and the player (The Stanley Parable, Little Misfortune, Undertale, Buddy.io, OneShot, etc…)

However, Slay the Princess works well here because it not only emphasizes the artificial limitations that the narrator sets on a story, but the way that these stories recursively loop in on themselves, reinforcing the fears and biases of previous iterations.

Critical data theory probably had nothing to do with the game’s development (Abby Howard if you're reading this, lmk). However, it works as a surprisingly cohesive framework for illustrating the ways that we can become ensnared by a narrative, and the importance of knowing who, exactly, is narrating the story. Although it is difficult or impossible to conceptualize what might exist beyond the artificial limits placed by even a well-intentioned narrator, calling attention to them and the box they’ve constructed is the first step in breaking out of this cycle.

“You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage.” ― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Epilogue

If you've read this far, thank you for your time! This was an adaptation of my final presentation for a Critical Data Studies course. Truthfully, this course posed quite a challenge--I found the readings of philosophers such as Kant, Adorno, Foucault, etc... difficult to parse. More contemporary scholars were significantly more accessible. My only hope is that I haven't gravely misinterpreted the scholars and researchers whose work inspired this piece.

I honestly feel like this might have worked best as a video essay, but I don't know how to do those, and don't have the time to learn or the money to outsource.

Slay the Princess is available for purchase now on Steam.

Screencaps from ManBadassHero Let's Plays: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Post Dividers by @cafekitsune

Citations:

Rosenberg, D. (2018). Data as word. Historical Studies in the Natural Sciences, 48(5), 557-567.

Amaro, Ramon. (2019). As If. e-flux Architecture. Becoming Digital. https://www.e-flux.com/architecture/becoming-digital/248073/as-if/

What Ethical AI Really Means by PhilosophyTube

Keyes, O. (2018). The misgendering machines: Trans/HCI implications of automatic gender recognition. Proceedings of the ACM on human-computer interaction, 2(CSCW), 1-22.

Allred, A.M., Aragon, C. (2023). Art in the Machine: Value Misalignment and AI “Art”. In: Luo, Y. (eds) Cooperative Design, Visualization, and Engineering. CDVE 2023. Lecture Notes in Computer Science, vol 14166. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-43815-8_4

Amaro, R. (2019). Artificial Intelligence: warped, colorful forms and their unclear geometries.

Parisisi, L., Ferreira da Silva, D. Black Feminist Tools, Critique, and Techno-poethics. e-flux. Issue #123. https://www.e-flux.com/journal/123/436929/black-feminist-tools-critique-and-techno-poethics/

AI - Our Shiny New Robot King | Sophie from Mars by Sophie From Mars

Joseph Campbell and the Myth of the Monomyth | Part 1 by Maggie Mae Fish

Joseph Campbell and the N@zis | Part 2 by Maggie Mae Fish

How Barbie Cis-ified the Matrix by Jessie Gender

#slay the princess #stp spoilers #stp #stp princess #abby howard #black tabby games #academics #critical data studies #computer science #technology #hci #my academics #my writing #long post

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gossamerufansubs · 3 months ago

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Two pages from HEROINE magazine Volume 2 (2004). This edition focused on independent heroine tokusatsu production companies such as Eiyu Club, Center Island, and more.

English translation below the cut:

Page 1

[Header] Eiyu Club

[TN: The kanji seem to mean “movie” and “amusement” together but 映遊 in itself is not a word beyond the name of this club, so I will use the spelling they use themselves in their works, “Eiyu”, here]

[Left of photo where Suzuka is being choked by a masked villain] The heroines from the club that has produced many masked heroines have gathered together! Let’s support these cute and cool heroines.

[In the blue box titled ‘data’]

Cyber Lady Suzuka

Suzuka Power-Up Plan by Dr. Mori (1998)

Suzuka's younger sister, Haruka, has been captured by Zelda. Suzuka, along with her ex-boyfriend and pilot Yoshiyama Ryo, Haruka’s boyfriend Amemiya Akira, and the creator Dr. Todoroki, set out to rescue her. However, the enemy uses Haruka as a hostage and sends out three monster minions. Suzuka struggles and takes heavy damage as it happens to be the time for her regular maintenance. Dr. Todoroki decides to completely enhance and modify Suzuka. Can Suzuka defeat the three monsters and rescue Haruka safely?

Cyber Lady Suzuka 2 – Dr. Todoroki Speaks of Suzuka’s Secrets… (2000)

Zelda's officer, Kiri, attempts to control the girls with a “hallucinogenic hypnotic drug.” And the next target is Haruka… Haruka is in danger!! Dr. Todoroki reveals the secret of Suzuka’s birth, and what are the outrageous weapons that will be installed in Suzuka?

[In large blue box in bottom right corner]

About Eiyu Club

The Club's Devotion to Masked Heroines

In special effects works, there are heroines who support the hero and sometimes sacrifice themselves to help him. There was a group that wanted to make works centered around such earnest “heroines.” This is how Eiyu Club was formed. A few volunteers pooled their money to produce and sell works, using the profits to update equipment and fund the next production. This pattern has remained unchanged since the early days.

After shooting two films featuring "Cyber Lady Suzuka," the Seria Project was launched with the next title character, and during that time, the relatively inexpensive film "Lila" was shot using mass-produced masks, which also served as a test for updated equipment. “Seria” had its character design outsourced, and the mask modeling was entrusted to one of Japan’s top sculptors, leading to the creation of a beautiful masked heroine. The work also marked the first time professional actresses were hired, and with the use of CG and special effects, it became a major leap for the club.

The next large project was the planning of “Auscensia Memoria,” which inherited the setting and background of “Seria,” featuring two characters and even further improved designs. During this time, the action team from Seria worked with the original character “Wind” created by team If for another production. “Auscensia Memoria” became the club’s first DVD work, and to aim for even higher-quality productions, future works would focus on “internal competition” to further enrich the content.

Works such as “Ciao,” “Kou,” and “Mother-Daughter Robot” were created following this approach, and attention will continue to focus on the “earnest” activities of charming masked heroines.

[Caption of three overlapping photos below blue ‘data’ box] Suzuka is cornered with no escape. What will happen next? A desperate, life-or-death pinch! It was a gripping fight scene that kept me on the edge of my seat. Since masked heroines don’t show facial expressions, conveying their emotions depends entirely on the skill of the voice actor. However, Suzuka is an android, so she doesn’t panic or make a fuss.

[Next to the photo of Suzuka lightly jogging] Suzuka stands out with her eye-catching costume color and distinctive mask.

[Next to a photo of Suzuka holding up a cinder block like a serving tray] I don't know why she's holding a block, but that miniskirt is captivating. Go, Suzuka!

[Next to a photo of Suzuka getting punched] Suzuka gets punched hard by the enemy. Even the way she takes a hit is done with passion. Hang in there, Suzuka!

[The block of text below the large full-body shot of Suzuka] Cyber Lady Suzuka is controlled by Suzuka’s former lover, Yoshiyama Ryo. Suzuka is now controlled as a “battle doll” by a remote control during combat. Emotions could negatively affect her performance, so her “fear” from her human past is no longer present. During battle, Suzuka has no speech function. It’s probably Suzuka’s wish that she remains an android, as her memory is transferred into the mechanical body, and she is revived in the form of a cyborg. Suzuka was killed by the evil organization “Zelda.”

Page 2

[Text in upper left of page] Lila (Red Lilac) - Dream of Shudder

[TN: I’ve seen this written as Lila and Lilac in various materials, making a strict translation difficult. So I will stick with “Red Lilac” as the name of the movie, but Lila as the name of the character in the movie.]

This is the form that Akane takes when she combines with a doll through "Musou Genshin," a power created by her father to fight against the dream invader "Baribas”.

[In red “data” box] Lilac (Red) Version “Dream of Shudder” (2001) - On one lunch break, Akane meets an unfamiliar man. After Akane sees a suspicious light from the man, she is plagued by nightmares that night. The man's true identity is the dream invader "Baribas." He plans to destroy the "Musou Genshin" created by Akane's father and enters Akane's dreams. Akane is attacked by the man in her dream. At that moment, the doll she had been holding suddenly begins to sync with her. Then, Akane transforms into "Lila" through "Musou Genshin" embedded in the doll and challenges Baribas.

[To the bottom left of an image of Red Lila crossing her arms over her chest] The thighs peeking from the hot pants are cute.

[Below the full-body image of Red Lilac] The pattern of a full-face mask with hair growing from it is the same as in the Mighty Lady series, but Mighty uses a bodysuit while this one is costume-based, showing the difference. Of course, there is no giant transformation.

[Small text next to Red Lilac’s left boot] Intense Heroine Feature

[Large header text] Blue Lilac - Pure Heart

[Text to the left of header text] A caring and cheerful heroine!

[Below circle-framed images] Lila Lapis Lazuli (Blue)

Originally a normal 1/1 figure [TN: a figure scaled to be human sized], she was given life by "the sanctuary of life" and begins to take care of her owner, Daisuke. She’s absolutely the "pushy wife" type. Surprised Daisuke is then visited by his childhood friend and idol talent Honoka, causing a commotion. A rivalry for Daisuke begins between Honoka and Lilac.

#eiyu club #tokusatsu #2000s #I got this magazine and absolutely lost my mind when I saw how much Eiyu Club there was I really didn't know what to expect #translation mine not sure if I need to specify that lol #there's more eiyu club but I haven't subbed the movies those are about so once I get to those I'll post them later

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anonymousewrites · 2 months ago

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Logos and Pathos (Book 4) Chapter Six

TOS! Spock x Empath! Spouse! Reader

Chapter Six: Emotional Test

Summary: Spock and (Y/N) train cadets and go out on a test flight. (Well, not before spending some time together).

Spock and (Y/N) sat at their stations, observing the bridge quietly.

“Leaving Section Fourteen for Section Fifteen,” reported Sulu at the helm.

“Stand by.” Saavik, a young Vulcan, sat in the Captain’s chair, back straight and professional as ever. “Project parabolic course to avoid entering the Neutral Zone.”

“Aye, Captain, course change projected,” said Sulu.

“Captain,” said Uhura. “I’m getting something on the distress channel.”

“On speakers,” ordered Saavik.

“Imperative!” A distressed voice appeared over the speakers. “This is the Kobayashi Maru, nineteen periods out of Altair VI. We have struck a gravitic mine and have lost all power. Our hull is penetrated, and we have sustained many casualties.”

“This is the Starship Enterprise,” said Uhura. “Your message is breaking up. Can you give your coordinates? Repeat. This is starship—”

“Enterprise—!” said the Kobayashi Maru. “Our position is Gamma Hydra, Section 10.”

“In the Neutral Zone,” observed Saavik.

(Y/N) and Spock glanced at her. How would Saavik act in this moment?

“Hull penetrated, life support systems failing,” said the Kobayashi Maru. “Can you assist us, Enterprise? Can you assist us?”

“Data on the Kobayashi Maru,” said Saavik.

The computer beeped. “Subject vessel is third class neutronic fuel carrier, crew of eighty-one, three hundred passengers.”

“Damn.”

(Y/N) was amused to hear a Vulcan curse. Spock glanced at them, and (Y/N) smiled.

Saavik paused as she assessed her possible courses of action. “Mr. Sulu, plot an intercept course.”

Spock raised a brow.

“May I remind the Captain that if a starship enters the zone—” began Sulu.

“I’m aware of my responsibilities, Mr. Sulu,” said Saavik calmly.

Sulu turned back to the helm. “Estimating two minutes to intercept. Now entering the Neutral Zone.”

She did it, thought (Y/N).

“Warning,” said the computer. “We have entered the Neutral Zone. Warning.”

“We are now in violation of Treaty, Captain,” said Spock, still perfectly composed.

“Stand by in transporter room, ready to beam survivors aboard,” said Saavik, keeping herself calm—a proper Vulcan.

Good, not getting flustered. Once you make a decision, you must see it through without fear.

“Captain, we’ve lost their signal!” alerted (Y/N).

“Alert,” said Sulu. “Sensors indicate three Klingon cruisers, bearing 3-1-6, mark 4, closing fast.”

“Visual,” said Saavik. Her tone was clipped. “Battle stations, Activate shields.”

“Shields activated,” said Sulu.

“Inform the Klingons we are on a rescue mission,” said Saavik.

“They’re jamming all frequencies,” reported (Y/N). A good choice from her, but it won’t get her far here.

“Klingons on attack course and closing,” warned Sulu.

“We’re in over our heads,” decided Saavik. “Mr. Sulu, get us out of here.”

“I’ll try, Captain,” said Sulu.

“Alert!” The computer beeped. “Klingon torpedoes activated.”

“Evasive action!” ordered Saavik.

A bang sounded, and the bridge rocked back and forth.

Saavik held herself in the chair and pressed the comms button, keeping control of herself. “Engineering, damage report.”

“Main energizer hit, Captain,” reported Scotty.

“Engage auxiliary power. Prepare to return fire,” ordered Saavik.

Another explosion shook the bridge, and (Y/N) held onto their seat to keep from falling out. Strong attacks. Bones sprawled across the ground as it trembled.

“Shields collapsing, Captain!” said a cadet.

“Fire all phasers,” said Saavik.

“No power to the weapons, Captain,” said Spock.

A third explosion rocked the ship.

“Captain, it’s no use,” said Scotty over the comms. “We’re dead in space.”

“Activate escape pods. Send out the Log Buoy,” said Saavik. “All hands abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship.”

A knock sounded on the door of the bridge. “Alright, open her up.”

(Y/N) stood as the door slid open and Kirk stepped onto the bridge. Saavik turned around in the captain’s chair and regarded him carefully.

“Any suggestions, Admiral?” she said. The red alarm lights flashed around her, the alarm blared, but her gaze remained steady.

“Prayer, Mr. Saavik,” said Kirk. “The Klingons don’t take prisoners.” His aura warmed at the joke. “Lights!”

The alarms switched off, and the regular lights switched on.

“Motors on,” said another official, walking in.

“Trainees, to the briefing room,” said Spock.

(Y/N) pressed the comms button. “Maintenance Crew, report to Bridge simulator.”

“Physician, heal thyself,” said Kirk, looking with a grin at Bones.

He rolled over and pushed himself up. “Is that all you gotta say? What about my performance?”

“I’m not a drama critic,” said Kirk, and Bones rolled his eyes (but there was no malice, only amusement). He looked at Saavik, still standing in the simulator. “Well, Mr. Saavik, are you going to stay with the sinking ship?”

“Permission to speak candidly, sir?” said Saavik.

(Y/N) and Spock shared a look, curious about what she would say. They had guesses, but they didn’t assume.

“Granted.” Kirk was never one to shy away from honesty.

“I don’t believe this was a fair assessment of my command abilities,” said Saavik, succinct and to the point.

“And why not?” remarked Kirk.

“Because there was no way to win,” said Saavik.

“A no-win situation is a possibility that every commander may face,” said Kirk. “Has that never occurred to you?”

“No, sir. It has not,” said Saavik, hands laced behind her back and still composed.

“How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life, is it not?” said Kirk.

Yes, thought (Y/N). Every Starfleet officer would see death. It was how they dealt with it that mattered. They needed to keep their heart and mind in the face of terror and grief, even when it became hard, unbearable. However, (Y/N) knew they had no idea how they’d react if they lost one of their dearest friends or family. Their eyes drifted to Spock. Without him, would I be myself? Or would I lose part of my heart forever? (Y/N) didn’t want to think of it.

“As I indicated, Admiral, the thought had not occurred to me,” said Saavik.

Her Vulcan-ness didn’t show any emotion, and (Y/N) remained unsure of what she was feeling. However, (Y/N) had been married to Spock long enough to guess that Saavik was disappointed in herself for not “winning” the test, even though there was no winning. There was only experience.

Ah, well. She’s young. We all had something to learn then, thought (Y/N).

Well, now you have something new to think about,” said Kirk. “Carry on.” He turned and headed to the door. Bones, (Y/N), and Spock followed, leaving Saavik in her sinking ship alone.

“Jim,” said Bones. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just put an experienced crew back on the ship?”

“We had our second round of fun already, Bones,” chuckled Kirk. “We have to let the next generation have their turn. Galloping around the cosmos is a game for the young, Doctor.”

(Y/N) and Spock glanced at one another. Interesting thought from Kirk. They didn’t have much of an opinion one way or another. Spock and (Y/N) believed in training good officers for the next generation of starships, but they also believed in their own abilities.

“Spock, (L/N), aren’t you dead, too?” joked Kirk. “Your ghosts must be loitering to wonder what rating I’ll give your cadets.”

“I am understandably curious,” said Spock.

“I was curious to hear Saavik’s thoughts,” said (Y/N). “She is bright and capable, and this was her first time through the simulator.”

“Fair,” said Kirk. “As for Spock, your cadets destroyed the simulator room and you with it.”

“The Kobayashi Maru scenario frequently wreaks havoc with students and equipment,” stated Spock, factual as ever. “As I recall, you took the test three times yourself.”

“With a unique final solution,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“That’s one word for it,” said Bones. “ ‘Unique.’ ”

“Innovative, is what I’d use,” said Kirk. A glimmer of mischievous amusement shone in his eyes. “It had the virtue of never having been tried.” He looked at Spock and (Y/N) and turned over the book he was carrying. It was physical, so ancient, and an old Earth story—A Tale of Two Cities. “By the way, thank you for this.”

“We know of your fondness for antiques,” said Spock, inclining his head in acknowledgement.

“ ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,’ ” said Kirk, quoting the first line of the book. “Message?”

“None that we’re conscious of,” said Spock.

“Other than ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Captain Spock, Commander (L/N), space shuttle leaving n five minutes,” said the PA system.

“Where are you two off to, now?” asked Kirk.

“The Enterprise,” said Spock. “We must check in before your inspection.”

“And you?” asked (Y/N).

“Home,” said Kirk, smiling and walking away.

(Y/N) watched him go. “I wonder if he was serious.”

“About what?” said Spock.

“Leaving all command of the Enterprise to younger officers,” said (Y/N). “I know that the next generation is capable, but we’re not…senile or incapable.”

“Not at all,” said Spock.

“…I think he wants to be out in the stars. Being an Admiral is far less exciting that a starship captain was,” said (Y/N). “Bones thinks he’s hiding from himself."

“Hiding from oneself,” mused Spock. “How interesting, that people ignore their own mind.”

“And heart,” added (Y/N). They paused before smiling. “But, Kirk has his friends. And he’s always been strong. He’ll work things out.”

“Indeed.” The data of their previous adventures supported (Y/N)’s conclusion.

“No matter how many times we do it, I love stepping aboard the Enterprise,” said (Y/N). They walked with Spock through the halls towards their quarters, still prepared to their liking. What else was there to do after checking in and ensuring all cadets were learning their roles and way around the ship properly but to have some fun?

“It is our ship,” said Spock with unusual (for him) fondness. “Though I find myself ill at ease as the ‘Captain.’ ”

“You never did go looking for a command position,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “I’m sure Saavik will be ready soon enough.”

“She progresses well,” said Spock. “However, she has the stubbornness I possessed when young. She must learn the world outside of just logic.”

“Logic steers you but not the rest of the world,” said (Y/N), nodding. “And that’s something she has to account for.”

“Precisely,” said Spock, opening she door for (Y/N).

“Do you know what I think?” said (Y/N) as they stepped in.

“What?” said Spock.

“I think Saavik will get the chance to see an excellent captain at work,” said (Y/N).

“You refer to Admiral Kirk,” said Spock, knowing his spouse.

“I do,” said (Y/N).

“Admiral Kirk is not scheduled to come aboard, and we are not currently planning on any test flights,” said Spock.

“When has Kirk done anything to plan?” said (Y/N).

“He has…‘unique’ approaches to situations, as you might say,” said Spock.

(Y/N) chuckled, and Spock glanced at them fondly. He enjoyed their smiles, and no matter how many times he saw one, he was reminded of his fondness every time.

“He’ll show up, and we’ll go for a flight, I’m sure,” said (Y/N).

“You’re quite certain,” said Spock.

“Your intelligence is rubbing off on me,” teased (Y/N), raising two fingers. As Spock smiled softly and touched their fingers with his own, (Y/N) winked. “That, and Bones is going to talk to Kirk and give him a birthday present, and if anyone can talk Kirk out of self-pity and anxiety, it’s Bones. Kirk’ll be flying on the Enterprise within a day.”

Spock pressed his fingers firmly to (Y/N)’s. “A hypothesis accompanied by logic and your knowledge of Kirk’s emotions.”

“I’m good at what I do,” said (Y/N), smiling proudly.

“You are, T’hy’la,” said Spock, gazing at (Y/N) lovingly. They were always attractive when they became efficient. When they put together facts and their own, excellent observations into a logical explanation of something happening, Spock was thrown head-over-heels into a reminder of why he loved them and always would. Intelligence was attractive to everyone; logic was sexy to a Vulcan.

“Spock,” said (Y/N). “I can feel your emotions.”

“Ah.” The marriage bond was quite strong, so as Spock gazed at (Y/N) and admired their (sexy) logic, (Y/N) was fully aware of where his mind must be trailing.

(Y/N) smiled. “Don’t worry. I like them with you.”

“Oh?” Spock stepped closer.

“Mhm.” (Y/N) hummed. “And, you know, we have some time until Kirk inevitably arrives…The cadets are busy. It’s the evening recreation hours…”

They raised their hand and entwined their fingers with Spock’s. He suppressed a shiver as their fingers ran over his, and (Y/N) felt his emotions heighten into flames. They smiled, lifted his hand, and kissed the palm.

“T’hy’la…” said Spock, voice low. A heavy green blush rested on his cheeks and on his ears.

“Husband,” said (Y/N), smiling and kissing the back of his hand next.

“You are testing my self-control,” said Spock, eyes lidded

“You know I don’t mind when you let go,” said (Y/N).

With those words and another pass of (Y/N)’s fingers over his, Spock scooped (Y/N) up into his arms. They let out a surprised chuckle, and Spock held them close.

“Then let go I shall,” said Spock, eyes lidded before he leaned in and kissed them.

(Y/N) kissed him back, throwing their hands over his neck. “I love you, Spock,” they said softly, smiling.

“And I love you, T’hy’la.” Spock leaned back in. “I shall show you how much I do.”

Taglist:

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27 notes · View notes

nilsavatar · 5 months ago

Note

Your fic with Neteyam and The Sarentu was amazing I loved it! Would you be willing to write a fic about the Sarentu having a nightmare about being back in TAP? I just keep thinking about our characters reply to Anufi after saving her from being tortured by the RDA “Sky peoples air, one of Hardings favorite punishments” it’s horrifying that they would do that to literal children.

The Sky Breaker: Shadows of the Past

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Sarentu (Ateyana)

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST. All characters are AGED-UP. No smut, only fluff in the end, but still this story is not about romance, even if Sarentu’s relationship with Neteyam is mentioned. So'lek cameo as a brotherly figure for Sarentu.

!DISCLAIMER! Presence of dark and sensitive explicit themes: torture through poison, child abuse, trauma. Please do not read if these topics are not for you.

Little note: Thanks a million, Anon, for your request. It resonated with me so much that I couldn't wait in writing it, surprising myself with the speed I completed it with. Like you, I too was deeply disturbed by that part of the DLC, and even more so by the protagonist's hint about the abuse Harding allegedly inflicted on the Sarentu children. I usually wait at least a couple of days before posting to check for errors with a cool head, but this time I'm so impatient that I can't resist. I hope I managed to satisfactorily touch on all the points you listed, and that the end result reflects your expectations. Thank you again for the challenge you have given me, allowing me to explore even more of the world of Avatar, even in its darkest and most disturbing parts.

@hao-ming-8 you told me to tag you in case I write about So'lek. Although this story is not about So'lek, there is a part about him that reflects the ghosts of his past. I thought you might appreciate it.

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Yana crouched in the underbrush, her heart still hammering from the chaos of the last battle. The air was heavy with the acrid tang of scorched earth, a testament to the destruction wrought by the RDA. Beside her, Anufi set silently, the blue of her skin ashen, the fresh burns on her wrists standing stark against her flesh. Her silence haunted her almost as much as her own thoughts. Anufi’s rescue had been harrowing. Finding her facing the ground in a gas chamber where humans forced the Na'vi's lungs to choke on their poisonous atmosphere awakened an old, buried terror. Her hands trembled as she wiped sweat from her brow, memories unraveling in her mind before she could stop them.

She had been little more than a child when she, her sister and the others were taken into the RDA’s TAP. The Ambassador Program, they had called it, a name coated in the syrupy pretense of goodwill. To the humans, it was a symbol of diplomacy, and experiment in ‘peaceful coexistence’. Its true nature was something far darker—a carefully calculated project to mold Na’vi children into tools for the humans’ colonial ambitions. A gilded cage, where their culture, their independence, and even their spirit were systematically stripped away.

The Sky People smiled as they handed out data pads and notebooks, teaching the children about Earth’s history, science, and culture. But those smiles always hid something colder. They’d correct a mispronounced English word with thinly veiled frustration or scowl when a child struggled to manipulate human tools with their three-fingered hands. “It’s for your own good,” they’d say when a child wept, homesick for the forests of Pandora. “This is how you’ll help your people survive.”

Great responsibility for someone who was just a kid.

Aha’ri, however, saw through the lies. She had always been the bold one, the spark to Yana’s cautious flame. While the little sister obeyed quietly, biting back her discomfort, the older one would glare at the instructors with a defiance the set her apart. Her golden eyes, so full of fire, had unnerved the RDA staff from the start. “That one’s trouble,” they’d mutter as she passed, but for a time, they tolerated her resistance. They wanted to shape her, too, to prove they could tame even the fiercest Na'vi.

Yana, on the other hand, was more thoughtful, more fearful and aware of the superiority the humans had over them because of their technological contraptions. They were on their own turf, here the soldiers and scientists were playing at home, driven by a cruelty and avarice against which a paltry little group of children could do nothing. Moved by this, the younger sister tried to temper the elder's temper, pleading with her to stay quiet. But Aha'ri wouldn’t listen.

“Tsmuke [sister], they’re stronger than us. They control everything. If you fight them—.” “Then I’ll fight harder,” Aha’ri interrupted, her voice sharp as an arrowhead. “They won’t break me.” But Ateyana knew better. The humans’ kindness was a thin mask over something monstrous, and that monstrosity revealed itself one fateful day.

It began in a cultural lesson — one of the RDA’s many patronizing attempts to bridge understanding between humans and Na’vi. Her sister had been tense from the very start, her tail flicking in irritation as the instructor droned on about the technological advancements of Earth, their tone dripping with condescension. “And that’s why humanity’s ingenuity has made us the dominant species,” they stated, holding up a glowing data pad as though it wet a sacred artifact.

Aha’ri patience snapped. With a swift motion, she grabbed the object from the instructor’s hands and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the metal wall with a deafening crash, its pieces scattering like shards of broken pride. “You don’t want to understand us!” Her voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and fierce. Her tail lashed behind her, and her chest heaved with rage. “You want to own us! To take everything away from us. Our families, our land, our identity!” The other Na’vi children froze, their wide eyes darting between Aha’ri and the Sky People. Yana’s heart sank as she saw the instructor’s face harden, their polite veneer cracking to reveal cold fury.

Within minutes, the incident was reported to John Mercer himself. The administrator of TAP arrived with his characteristic composure, his every movement calculated and deliberate. Mercer had a presence that muffled rooms and chilled blood — a man whose power was as much in his intellect as in his authority. He looked down at the remains of the data pas, then up at the girl, who stood unrepentant, her chin raised in defiance.

“Colonel Harding,” he said, his tone calm but devoid of empathy. “You may deal with this as you see fit.” Ateyana’s blood turned ice. She knew what that meant. Colonel Angela Harding, the TAP’s enforcer, thrived on cruelty. A towering woman with a predatory gaze, she carried herself with the detached air of someone who viewed torment as a mere tool for oder. Her punishment were as inventive as they were brutal, each conceived not just to discipline but to humiliate and break the will of her captives, to withdraw insubordination and replace it with submission. For that monster, breaking the Na’vi wasn’t simply her duty: it was a twisted form of entertainment.

As she arrived in response to Mercer’s orders, the colonel strode into the room, her boots clicking against the linoleum floor, her expression one of faint amusement. Aha’ri maintain her bolshie attitude, but everybody could see the tension in her stiff tail and the subtle quiver in her shoulders. “Ah, the little firebrand,” Harding commented, her voice dripping with mockery. “You think you’re so special because you’ve got a bit of spark, don’t you?” The girl didn’t respond, her golden eyes narrowing in silent insolence, and she chuckled, shaking her head. “We’ll see how long that spark lasts.” When the woman reached for Aha’ri, Yana acted on instinct. She stepped forward, throwing herself between the colonel and her sister. Her entire frame trembled, but she forced her voice to be steady ash she spoke. “Aha’ri didn’t mean it!” She cried, meeting her icy gaze. “She’s just… she’s just angry. Please, forgive her just this time.” “Step aside, child,” Harding said coldly, her eyes razor-sharp like knives, but she refused to move. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and ears, but she planted her feet firmly on the ground. “Please,” she begged, turning to Mercer, who studied her from the doorway with the detached curiosity of a scientist examining a specimen. “I’ll make her behave. I promise.” He stared at Sarentu for a long time, his head tilted as if considering her plea. “Discipline,” he said finally, his tone almost paternal, “is essential for progress. If you truly wish to help your sister, sweet child, you should teach her to obey.” Tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees in front of him, clinging to his lab coat in supplication. “I’ll take her punishment. Just let her go.” “Do you think if she saw you suffering in her place, she would learn her lesson?” The aloofness with which he asked prevented her from answering. “You want to protect your sister, I understand that. But have you ever thought that she is putting you all in trouble with her antics? Ateyana, you are a good girl, but if you always cover for her you will end up doing her more harm than good. Aha'ri needs to learn how to be in the world.”

With a flick of his hand, Mercer signaled Harding to proceed. The colonel didn’t wait for further discussion, she grabbed Aha’ri by the arm and began dragging her away, ignoring the younger Na’vi’s thrashing and curses. Yana lunged after them, her hands reaching for her sister, but two Sec-Ops troopers blocked her path, their like iron as they held her back, ready to point the weapons hanging at their side if necessary. “Don’t do this!” She screamed, her voice breaking. “Please! You don’t have to do this!” Her cries went unanswered, Harding didn’t even glance back. She pulled Aha’ri around like a rag doll. The doors hissed shut behind them, with a mechanical finality that sent a chill through the little girl’s soul.

Aha’ri’s punishment was swift and merciless. Harding took her to one of the facility’s sealed chambers — a tool originally designed to test human oxygen systems in Pandora’s atmosphere but repurposed for a far darker use. She was shoved into a cylindrical space with reinforced glass walls, that allowed observers to watch.

Harding’s fingers hovered over the control panel, her lips curling into a devious sneer. “Let’s see how well she handles a little taste of home.” Yana pounded on the glass, her fists striking the cold surface with frantic desperation. “Stop! Please! She’ll listen! She’ll listen, I swear!” The soldier glanced at her, one eyebrow arched in fake pity. “Oh, she’ll listen. One way or another.” With that, she pressed the button. Inside the tube, Aha’ri face shifted from boldness to confusion as the first wave of Earth’s air flooded in. It was clear but carried a hidden poison — the mixture of gases that made up the Earth's atmosphere, was toxic to Na’vi physiology. And the speed with which it was being administered in the small space made its effects immediate.

Within moments, the girl staggered, her hands clutching her throat as her lungs rebelled. “Breathe, little warrior,” Harding murmured, her voice filled with wicked mirth. At first, the girl resisted, glaring through the glass as if daring Harding to do her worst. But courage and recklessness couldn’t stop the poison from taking hold. The little sister’s breath labored in sync with the oldest’s, as she watched her confident posture collapse to her knees, gasping for air that her body couldn’t accept. Her chest heaved as she clawed at her throat, her eyes wide with panic.

The sight of Aha’ri’s agony — the strength draining from her limbs, the fire in her irises flickering into fear — was more than Ateyana could bear. She turned back to Mercer, who stood silently in the corner, his arms crossed. “Stop her!” The girl sobbed, her voice raw. “Please, make her stop! You’re killing her!” The man regarded her with the same neutrality he had shown throughout the ordeal. “Killing her?” He echoed, as though the idea were preposterous. “No. Colonel Harding knows her limits. Your sister will survive, don’t worry. The question is whether she’ll learn.” Sarentu’s whines filled the lab as she could only watch her sister being tortured.

The minutes dragged on like hours. Aha’ri’s struggles grew weaker, her gasps becoming faint and uneven. Her frame trembled, on hand pressed against the glass, her golden eyes locking with her sister’s as though reaching for help that would never come. Yana could do nothing but press her palms in return, her tears smearing the surface. Then her hands closed into fists, pounded against the window until they bled. She screamed, begged, wailed, but no one came. Behind her, the other Na’vi children huddled in terrified quiet, their eyes averted.

Harding savored the scene with a vague smirk, her arms crossed as though she were enjoying a private show. At last, when Aha’ri passed out, limp to the floor, her chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths, she released the seal. “Enough,” her tone almost bored. The chamber’s doors hissed open, two guards stepped inside to drag the victim out, while the colonel looked down at the motionless girl with disdain “She’ll live,” said with casual, scorn indifference. “Maybe now she’ll learn her place.”

When they returned Aha’ri to the dormitory, Ateyana rushed to her sister’s side. Her skin was damp with sweat, her breath still short, but her beautiful eyes fluttered open as she cradled her. “It’s okay,” the younger whispered, stroking her hair. “You’re safe now. I got you.” But Ahari didn’t respond. She stared blankly at the ceiling, her expression devoid of the fire that had once defined her, replaced by a hollow emptiness that she could barely recognize. Ateyana’s heart ached as she realized the truth: the sister she knew was gone, her spirit crushed under the weight of what she had endured.

From that day, she was different. She stopped speaking out against the humans, her rebellious nature altered by a haunting silence. Yana, too, carried the scars of that day — not on her body, but in her soul. She had failed her sister, failed to protect the one person she loved most.

The memory of Aha'ri’s panting breaths, her despairing eyes, would never leave her. It would follow her into adulthood, a ghost that whispered of her guilt and the monstrous cruelty of the humans she had once begged for mercy. That was the day Ateyana learned a hard truth: mercy was not something to be asked for. It was something to be taken, or forced, or denied entirely. And if she wanted to protect her people, she could never again rely on the humanity of her enemies. She would have to fight with all her might, at the risk of being stained with sin in the eyes of the Great Mother. A promise she made to herself again on the day Aha'ri was killed.

She sat on the thick root of a great tree, her fingers absently tracing the worn fletching of an arrow. Around her, the forest pulsed with life. The gentle hum of glowing flora and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze seemed distant, muted by the storm in her mind. The memories of Aha’ri scratched at the edges of her consciousness, threatening to drag her into the darkness she had fought so hard to keep at bay.

Sarentu squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the sounds of the nature, the cool texture of the moss beneath her fingers — anything to anchor herself in the present. But the harder she tried to push the memories away, the sharper they became. The hiss of the cell, the anguished cries of her sister, the emptiness in Mercer’s eyes. A shadow fell across her, and a warm weight settled on her shoulder. Startled, Yana blinked and looked up to find So’lek standing beside her. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder, his touch firm bun unintrusive.

So’lek was one of the few people she trusted completely. He had been a warrior long before the RDA’s return and had seen firsthand the destruction the humans could bring. His cheek and temple bore the scars of past battles, and his eyes — amber like a fading sunset — held the weight of someone who had endured loss and hardship.

He didn’t speak at first, his gaze steady as he looked down at her. There was no pity in his expression, only quiet understanding. A gaze that knew the pain of haunting memories. The gaze of someone who had carried his own ghosts through the years.

“You’re far away,” he stated softly, his voice low and even, like the rumble of distant thunder. She tried to muster a reply, but the words caught on her tongue, looking away, ashamed of the vulnerability she was showing.

The man crouched beside her, his hand still on her shoulder. He didn’t press her to talk, didn’t demand an explanation. Instead, he sat in silence, his presence a muted reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

“I know that look,” So’lek said after a moment, his thoughtful. “The way your shoulders tighten, how your tail moves without you even realizing it.” He paused, his warm eyes meeting hers. “You’re fighting something inside, aren't you?” Yana felt her throat harshened. She wanted to deny it, to tell him she was fine, that she didn’t need his concern. Bet the words felt pointless even before she could externalize them. So’lek’s glance held her, stiff and unyielding, and she found herself nodding, almost imperceptibly.

“I think about it too,” he admitted, his tone dropping even lower. His eyes drifted to the forest canopy, his expression longing but far-off. “The things I saw. The things I couldn’t stop. Sometimes they come back when I least expect it. In the quiet moments, when the forest is still, I feel I may be at peace once again, at least a little, they creep in.” His hand gave her shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze. “But you don’t have to face it alone.”

Her lips parted, but she hesitated. So’lek’s words reached something deep inside her, a part of her that had been hidden for so long she’d almost forgotten it existed. For years, she had carried the weight of her guilt and pain in silence, afraid to burden others with the darkness she couldn’t escape. But in So’lek’s eyes, she saw no judgment, only the quiet camaraderie of someone who understood.

“What do you do?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “When the memories come?” So’lek tilted his head, considering her question. “I remind myself why I fight,” he said after a pause. “Not to forget, or to erase the past. But to make sure it doesn’t happen again. For the ones I lost. For the ones still here.” Yana stared down at her hands, her fingers still gripping the arrow. His words resonated with her, stirring something in the depths of her chest. She thought of Aha’ri, of Anufi, of the clans who had entrusted her with their lives. Of Neteyam. They were her purpose now, the reason she had to keep fighting—even when the pain felt unbearable.

So’lek rose to his feet, his hand slipping from her shoulder. He turned to leave but paused, glancing back at her with a faint smile. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, little one,” he said gently. “If the burden is too heavy, let someone else help you shoulder it.” She watched him walk away, his tall frame disappearing into the camp shadows. The weight of her memories hadn’t lifted, but for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest flicker of hope. She wasn’t alone—not entirely.

The moment of clarity didn’t last long. As the night deepened and the forest grew quieter, the memories crept back in, stronger than ever, sharper and crueler than any blade. It seized her mind without warning, dragging her into the dark recesses of her subconscious where fear and guilt lurked, waiting.

She was back in the TAP facility, a child again, small and powerless. The sterile white walls loomed around her, closing in like the jaws of a predator. The hum of machinery filled the air, a sound she had grown to dread in those years. Ahead of her, Mercer stood tall, his shadow stretching impossibly long, swallowing the room in its cold grip. His expression was impassive, the same look he had worn when he condemned Aha’ri to her punishment. Behind him stood Colonel Harding, her fingers drumming against the control panel with rhythmic precision. Tap. Tap. Tap. Each sound reverberated through her chest like the beat of a war drum, growing louder and louder until it drowned out her own breathing. Harding’s lips twisted into a devious smile as her hand hovered over the controls. Inside the chamber, Aha’ri yelled. It was the same scream she had heard that day, raw and primal, full of misery and pain. The sound teared at Yana’s ears, filling her with a helpless rage that burned like acid in her veins. She tried to move, to stop Harding, but her feet felt rooted to the ground, as if the very air around her had turned to stone.

“Stop!” She exclaimed with a cry of distress. “Please! Stop!”

Her hands moved on their own, pounding against the glass until her knuckles split, blood smearing the surface. But her cries were swallowed by the cold, unfeeling room, just as they had been all those years ago. Aha’ri’s golden eyes locked with hers through the glass, wide with terror. Ateyana’s heart shattered all over again as she saw her sister collapse to her knees, gasping for air, her body convulsing as the poisonous atmosphere ravaged her.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. Ateyana was no longer outside the chamber. She was inside it. The walls pressed in around her, the sterile white replaced by suffocating gloom. The hiss of the oxygen systems grew louder, sharper, until it was the only sound she could hear. Her chest tightened as she drew in a ragged breath, only to feel flames sear her lungs. It was Earth’s air, toxic and alien, invading her body and asphyxiating her from within. She grazed her throat, panic overtaking her as her vision blurred. Shapes flickered in the dimness—indistinct at first, then blinding. She saw Anufi, her body slumped against the wall, her eyes round and lifeless. “No,” the girl breathed, reaching for her, but her limbs felt heavy, sluggish. “No, no, no!”

Then another figure emerged, stepping forward from the shadows. Aha’ri. Her sister’s complexion was pale and gaunt, her once-bright golden orbs now dim and vacant. She stared at young woman, her expression indecipherable, as though she were looking at a stranger. Behind her, a faint, ghostly image of the cylinder chamber from their childhood flickered to life, overlaying the blackness like a poignant projection.

“You failed us,” Aha’ri whispered, her voice merging with Anufi’s in a disturbing, chilling harmony. She shook her head, tears raining down her cheeks. “I tried!” she gasped, her voice plaintive, barely audible over the sound of her labored breathing. “I tried to save you!” “You failed us,” they repeated, their voices growing louder, the words echoing in her skull until they became a deafening chant. “You failed us! You failed us!”

The constraining darkness strengthened its grip, the air growing heavier with each passing moment. Her vision swam, the shapes of Aha’ri and Anufi blurring into the shadows. Her own reflection appeared before her, distorted and corrupted, her visage pallid and streaked with tears. In the reflection’s eyes, she saw all the guilt she had buried for years— the guilt of letting Aha’ri down, of begging Mercer for mercy instead of fighting back, of living when her sister’s spirit had been crushed. And now, the remorse of almost losing Anufi to the same hideous tactics, the same noxious fumes.

The reflection spoke, its tone cold and unrelenting, distorted in sounds that weren’t hers, but resembled all too closely the voice she had grown most fond of, in the endless struggle that was her life. “You think you can protect them now? You can’t even protect yourself.” The words hit her like a blow to the chest, forcing the last remnants of air from her lungs. She kneel over, the choking poison overwhelming her. Her hands reached out blindly, her fingernails grasping at nothing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” she murmured, while her reflection took the figure of somebody else.

The darkness surrounding her grew denser, swallowing her cries and the shapes of her sister and Anufi. It was suffocating, cloying, pressing on her from all sides. She reached out, desperate for any tether to pull her back into the light, but her fingers grasped only the void. Then, she saw him.

“Neteyam?” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

His form was unmistakable — his broad shoulders, the proud set of his jaw, the way his braids swayed gently as he walked. But something was off. His movements were sluggish, his steps unsteady. Yana's breath caught in her throat as he turned toward her, his face ashen and drawn, his bright lemon eyes dull and dead. “No,” she hushed, shaking her head as alarm dig into her chest. “No, not you. Not you too.”

Neteyam didn’t answer. His lips parted, but no words came out, only a soft, wheezing gasp. Her horror deepened as she saw the friction burns on his wrists, raw and angry, identical to the ones Anufi had borne. The result of the straps with which they had taken him there. Aimed at inflicting pain and subduing resistance, as a further form of the utter contempt RDA had for them.

The light fizz of oxygen filled the air, and she realized with sickening clarity that her mate was choking, his body wracked with spasms as he fight for breathe the toxic human atmosphere. She ran to him, her feet moving as though through water. “Neteyam!” she cried, her voice cracking. “I’m here! I’ll save you!”

But no matter how fast she moved, she couldn’t reach him. The distance between them stretched endlessly, as though the murk itself were conspiring to keep them apart. He fell to his knees, his eyes locking with hers for a fleeting moment. There was no accusation in his gaze, only dread and sadness—a quiet, haunting sadness that made her chest feel like it was splitting open. “Don’t leave me!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face unstoppably. “Please! Eywa, don’t take him from me!” As his body slumped forward, the shadow surged around him, consuming him entirely. Ateyana dropped to her knees, her cries echoing into the void.

She bolted upright with a strangled gasp, her form drenched in sweat. Her hands flew to her forehead, trembling as she struggled to shake the lingering terror of the dream. Her chest heaved as she gulped in Pandora’s sweet, life-giving air, her mind racing to separate illusion from reality. Her surroundings came into focus slowly — the soft glow of bioluminescent plants, the distant hum of nocturnal creatures. She was back in the forest, far from the sterile walls of the TAP facility.

It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone. Beside her, lying peacefully on a bed of soft mats and pillows, was Neteyam. Her breath caught as she turned to look at him. The moonlight filtering through the hut bathed his profile in a silvery gleam, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He looked so tranquil, so alive. Yana’s shaking fingers reached out to touch his cheek, her fingertips brushing against his warm skin as though to reassure herself that he was truly there. The tension in her frame ebbed slightly, a wave of relief washing over her. He was safe. He hadn’t been taken from her, hadn’t suffered the horrors her mind had conjured.

“I almost lost you,” she mumbled, her voice whispery as the wind. The young man stirred slightly, his expression softening in his sleep as though he could sense her presence. Sarentu's heart clenched with a mix of endearment and dismay, her emotions swirling like a storm within her. The nightmare had felt so real, so visceral, that even now, the echoes of it clung to her. Her hands trembled as she touched her throat, half-convinced she would feel the burns of the human oxygen.

Her eyes darted to Neteyam once more. Her feelings for him were undeniable, a bond as deep as the roots of Pandora’s sacred trees. But that love came with a fear so profound it threatened to consume her. She had already lost so much— her family, her innocence, the peace of her childhood. The thought of losing Neteyam, of watching him suffer as Aha’ri had, was a pain she could scarcely bear. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to linger in the solace of him being there, her digits brushing against his hair. But the relief was short-lived.

Yana buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with silent sobs. She had tried so hard to bury the past, to lock away the pain and guilt in the darkest corners of her mind. But saving Anufi had torn open those wounds, forcing her to confront the truth she had spent years avoiding: she couldn’t run from her failures.

As the faint light of dawn began to seep into the forest, she felt the weight of reality settle over her once more. The RDA’s war machines still loomed on the horizon, their engines a constant reminder of the battle yet to come. The nightmare was a cruel reflection of the stakes she faced every day — a reminder that every moment she spent with Neteyam could be their last.

Her gaze shifted to the bow resting nearby, its polished wood shining smoothly in the early morning. There was no room for hesitation, no space for weakness. If she wanted to protect Neteyam, Anufi, and her people, she couldn’t allow insecurities to paralyze her. Her fingers brushed against Neteyam’s cheek one last time before she stood, her movements quiet so as not to wake him. She would fight for him, for all of them. Whatever it took, she would ensure that the nightmare she had seen would never become reality.

She glanced to the floating mountains, and wiped her tears, her hands curling into fists, her resolve hardening like steel. The battle was coming, and she would meet it head-on, fueled by the love that gave her strength and the fear that reminded her what she had to lose. She couldn’t change whar happened to Aha’ri, but she could give her whole self for the future, for Pandora itself.

The past had left its scars, but it had also given her purpose. The Sky People would pay for what they had done. Yana would make sure of it.

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niffler-gold · 7 months ago

Text

Just a small Tracy fluffy fic.

I have 3 older sisters and there was a pic of us in the house for years of me at 4 years old on my first ever adult drop ride at a theme park. My 2 oldest were protecting me with arms firmly on my legs while my middle sister was grinning away like a mad women on the end. This story will be based off of this.

Thanks @coco9728 for the theme park inspiration.

Scott sighed sitting back in the old leather chair by his father's desk. It had been a long day, hell it had been a long week. He looked at all of the reports stacked in his inbox and begrudgingly opened the next one on the list.

He had barely seen his brothers this week except if a rescue had pulled them together. He frowned. The report he had opened was a Ti document. It was someone needing access into the old data banks for the latest project. He sighed again. He couldn't remember those old passkeys which meant he had to go into his dad's private study to retrieve them.

He avoided going in the study. It brought back too many unpleasant memories but sometimes needs must and he knew this was important.

He cracked open the door. God. He breathed in the smell. His aftershave still lingered after all this time. He let the memories flood him of his dad's presence before moving to the desk to find what he came to get.

He sat down and started to rummage through the draws but then froze. He pulled out a worn old photograph that he had forgotten even existed. The memory flooded him before he even knew what was happening.

A 7 year old Gordon woke him up by bouncing on his bed. "Scott, Scott get up". "Irgh" came the reply from the older teenager's bed. "Come on, today's the day we're going to the theme park" "get up". The next thing he knew the little menace that was his fish brother had ripped his duvet off him. Gordon saw the gleam in Scotts eye to late to react. Scott grabbed all of his flayling limbs and grabbed him to his chest and pulled the cover back over them. "No". Gordon's muffled scream could be heard through a lot of giggling.

John just so happened to be walking past his brother's bedroom at that exact moment, confused why the door was wide open. He poked his head round the door and could easily guess who Scott had prisoner in his bed. "Dad's not gonna be happy if you two are late" he said in a loud voice to be heard over all the giggling and yelling. Scott threw the cover off his head. "Yer, yer, were comi-" he was cut off by a yell of "Scott". Alan, all of 4 years old, had wandered in behind John. Next thing any of them knew Alan had all but ran and jumped on the bed hurtling towards his brother.

"I've missed you he said cuddling up to him". Gordon replied before Scott had a chance "he's only been away a few weeks" he said in his ever knowing 7 year old voice. "Too long" Alan pouted back. Before anyone could say anything Virgil and their father appeared at the door. "Come on boys we need to get a move on if we want to get there" Virgil then piped up "Gordon what did we say about bothering Scott" "it's fine Virgil" he replied scoping both the littleies into his arms. "I've missed them anyway, even this little monster" he said tickling Gordon some more. Their father just smiled in the door way. "Good to have you home son'".

30 minutes later and they were all bundled into the car on their way to the local theme park. It wasn't one of the huge parks but it was big enough for them to spend the day there and had rides that all of them could enjoy.

Scott spent the ride catching up on all of the mayhem his brothers had gotten into in the last few weeks since he had been gone. Safe to say it was a lot.

Once they arrived he relished in being back with his family going on different rides. There were 2 big water slides with rafts for 2 people to go on and they seemed to spend an age on them. First Scott took Alan on it with him holding his brother tightly as Alan screamed the whole way down only to burst into a fit of giggles at the bottom when it was over and his dad picked him up out of it. He made sure he went on it at least once with all of his brothers but the best was definitely Virgil. John may be older but was as skinny as skinny still. While Virgil was small he had broad shoulders and definitely been going to the gym, the weight of both of them made it go a hell of a lot faster. They even all watched Gordon and Alan come down together. Gordon taking his big brother responsibilities seriously as he walked hand and hand with him up to the top and held on tightly to him as they came down.

After a lunch of pre-packed sandwiches Virgil and John had made that morning, they wandered off to find some bigger thrill seekers. They came across a drop tower. One of those rides that take you slowly to the top only to plumit back down to the ground. Gordon begged his older brothers to take him on it. So as big brothers do they did. Alan was pretty upset as his dad had said no so instead his dad lifted him onto his shoulders as they watched their brothers go on it. After that Scott and Virgil decided to take Gordon on a few more bigger rides while John and their dad took Alan to the kiddie rollercoasters.

After taking Gordon on the scarier rides they found their dad sitting on a bench alone. "Dad!" Gordon yelled running and practically jumping into his dad's arms. "You had fun Gordy" he said ruffling the blond locks on his second youngest head. " Yer, we even went upside down". He then started jabbering at an inhumanely fast pace that no one could keep up with. " Where's John and Alan" Scott asked interrupting his brother's manic tail. Their dad pointed at a small train rollercoaster where John stood off to the side. "That's his 5th time in a row on that one". "Why isn't John on it with him" gordon asked. "Well he was, and he took him on every little coster in this section and went on with him but Alan seems to like this one. After the 3rd time in a row he got off and has been watching him since". The rest of the brothers giggled. John must have noticed them as he got Alan off the train and started walking towards them.

Allie bound up to Scott and hugged his leg. He instinctively picked him up and hugged him close. Virgil smirked at John. "He worn you out" he questioned sarcastically. "You try doing that coster multiple times in a row. It's essentially a circle I was getting dizzy" he retorted. The rest of the family just laughed. "Scott". "Yes Allie" he replied looking at him in his arms. "Big drop, I want to do the big drop". Scott put him down. "He really hasn't let that go has he" said Virgil. Scott turned to his father. "Dad please". He said in his best child-like voice. Next thing their dad knew all his sons were chiming in asking him. He looked at his youngest with pride as he reminded him so much of his late wife. "Are you sure you want to Alan." A chorus of cheers went up from his sons.

So off they went back to the 'big drop' Alan had called it. Luck was on their side (also tall genetics), as Alan was just tall enough for the ride. There were 5 seats each side so all of them could fit into the row. Scott lifted Alan up and pulled down his shoulder restraints securing him in before taking his own seat. The older boys knew exactly where to sit in order to look after the two minis. John was at the end and had Alan next to him. On the other side of Allan was Scott. And then Gordon, then Virgil. Alan looked tiny in the seat. Both John and Scott had their arms over him protectively. Gordon was grinning like a mad hatter. And Virgil on the end was making sure he was safe. While they were waiting for the ride to start the boys noticed a flash but before they had time to react the ride started to go up and their dad was waving from the ground camera in hand.

Alan loved it. He squealed at the drop. And laughed when it went back up. John and Scott were laughing hysterically at him while holding onto him. Gordon was also laughing at his brother but also was enjoying the sensation himself. Virgil was just vibing on the end while looking out for Gordon as well. Even he couldn't help chuckle at his youngest brother's screens even though he couldn't see him.

Once they got off the ride they decided to head home, after all it had been a long day. The photo had been forgotten or so they thought.

Scott walked back into the lounge and was happy he found all of his brothers there. "Where have you been asked" asked Virgil. "All your work was still open on the desk, but you weren't in the kitchen or anywhere near". Scott smiled and sank into the sofas with his brothers.

"I had to get something from dad's study... Can't remember what or why now, but I found this". He laid the picture on the table for all of them to see.

"no", said John, "it can't be". Virgil piped up "Alan's first ever big ride". All of the boys crowded in on it. "You can't say you weren't protective enough" quipped Gordon. "He's got a huge harness on and you and John still have your arms over him holding him safe". They all chuckled at that. "Did you know about this Scott" asked Alan. "No" he replied quietly. "Given how used it looks dad must have looked at it a lot" said Gordon. "Yer" replied Scott in the same quiet voice.

Nothing more was said on the photo but a few days later it appeared fully restored as a permanent fixture to the old desk. Once dad's now Scott's.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #john tracy #nifflers fanfics

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