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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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LITTLE DEATHS (IX)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body image issues, food issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, hurt/comfort, soft!Nikto, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wake up the next morning in the silk sheets of your hotel bedroom, in nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear. Your mind is sluggish and, between flashes of electricity up your thighs, the entire night comes back in slow images as you groan into the pillow.

A quick rush of a coat to cover ripped laces, the scream of sirens, Nikto arguing with authorities before you’re both released.

It was a play of luck that you explained away the snapped wrist as a simple instance of Nikto being some white knight—he’d kept you safe, you’d said. The host had been forcing himself on you; it could be seen on the cameras. Paired with his service record and a call from your investigators, they’d let you go without any further trouble.

Today, the small headache from the champagne was only a dull sting in the back of your skull; you hadn’t been drunk—hadn’t gotten to that point, anyway.

Eyes starting at the far wall, a heat builds and builds on your face as the minutes pass.

“Did we really…” you trail off in a whisper, hand coming up to your face as you roll onto your back and stifle a loud sound of exasperation, lips mouthing out, “Fuck.”

Nikto had left you shaking on his fingers in a damn storage room. Twice.

Your lips thin, legs caught in the sheets. You weren’t even awake enough to understand the potential consequences—not only the intimate encounter, but the repercussions of not sleeping with Oriel would be swift and fierce.

Never mind the broken bone.

The sharp knife of that moment is a deadly thing, it digs deep into you until your eyes are watering. That desperation in the storage room—the things you said were true. You’d silenced your phone last night because you knew the reaction would be instant; undeniable. Even now, you shift over and slide your hand over it on the side table, only to pause and take a deep breath before turning it on.

A sudden barrage of missed calls and texts slam into your ears before you slap the device back down and turn it off with fast fingers.

Your eyes close tightly, flopping back down and covering your eyes. It was instinctual the way your heart started running from you—the fear seeping back in.

They’re going to fire me, you think, hands shaking. They’re going to throw me out.

Through the heavy understanding, through the ideas you have to try and salvage this, you pause only when something makes your nose twitch. Hesitating, your hands slip from your face slowly, eyelids peeling back a millimeter at a time. Staring at the gray ceiling, your brows pull back to their normal resting point as your face goes blank.

What is that? Palms going to the mattress, you sit up slowly and sniff. It was dough, maybe? Something sweet and toasted.

Shifting, your feet connect with the cold floor, and you stand with a grunt, a tiny ache in the middle of your abdomen that makes your face heat and your hands rub at the back of your neck. A part of you was nervous more about what was outside of your door than what was in your phone—Nikto.

How would this go? Would he ignore the entire thing? Ignore you?

“He doesn’t run from things,” you mutter aloud, walking and stepping on the torn laces of your dress at the foot of the bed. Your hands grasp one of the bags in your room, not caring to check the rest of the contents before you sift through and drag out a pair of dark sweatpants.

Moving into them, the waistband is large, just as the legs are, but you’re too preoccupied to understand the way you’ve slipped into Nikto’s pants before you’re already at the door. Hands shaking over the handle, your fingers run the smooth metal before you shake your head and huff.

Walking out, the scent of fresh pancakes makes itself known as you blink at the scene in front of you. Trying to understand if you were actually awake, or if this was still some dream in the airyness of your mind. The stuttering of your heart feels real.

Nikto was shirtless.

Shirtless, making breakfast.

Your mouth is somewhat agape as you stare, struck down to a statue in the doorway as your eyelids flutter. Again, that bear tattoo writhes as the expansive muscle moves and twitches with work—Nikto’s front facing the pan that he works a spatula through. All of the ingredients are left on the counter, bought by him or already in the luxurious cabinets for your pleasure, you don’t know; flour, milk, among the others. Jams and honey.

You don’t know how long you stand there, fighting between your desire to run your hands over his bare skin and the respectful sense you know you need to keep. It’s enough time for him to slap one more scoop of dough into the sizzling pan and pass the done pancake to the side where one more rests, steaming.

You hadn’t thought your words meant that much to him.

Clearing your throat in shock, you see him glance over his shoulder swiftly. A bead of silence.

“Come. Eat,” is what he says—no emotion heard in the voice, though you didn’t expect anything less. His pale eyes dart down you, and after a small break in the air, he chuckles. “Thief, yes?”

“What?” Your brows crease. “I didn’t…” You look down and pause. It was fairly obvious that the pants didn’t belong to you. Your lips flattened, and your eyes flinched closed in embarrassment. “I must have gone through the wrong bag.”

Turning back, you hear a call from the Russian before you can disappear like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“I don’t wear them. I do not mind.” There's low electricity in the air. He doesn’t know how to go about this either.

Sighing, you shrug and nod, shifting back so you can walk to the kitchen counter and stuff your hands into your pockets. Leaning your hip to the corner, you fight the clamminess of your hands. The sweatpants pool at your ankles as your mouth opens.

“Pancakes?” You ask lowly, glancing at him.

He’s still in that balaclava, and his cargos are loose around his hips before being stuffed into dark boots that you’d never see him without.

“With jam,” Nikto grunts. “You will like them.”

You push out a tiny laugh. “I’ve had pancakes before, Nikto. I’m pretty sure most people have.”

“How would we know, hm?” Pale eyes narrow on yours, but it isn’t hostile. Nikto grumbles, moving the pan before he motions with a finger. “Those are done.”

You glance over at the pile and sigh, taking the plate with the two already done pancakes on it and padding over to grab the jam. Your eyes move down the label to find out which one it exactly is—gray isn’t exactly a large help—and open the sealed top with a tiny release of pressure.

Getting fat.

You pause, one hand holding the top and the other the glass jar; eyes blank, you stare at the plate with a steadily sinking heart. Clearing your throat, you move a hand and twist the top back on, placing the jam down and shifting to grab a fork instead.

“Do you think that the investigators will call with any updates—”

“Eat,” Nikto interrupts firmly from behind, back to back.

Your face is tight, fingers tapping the counter. There’s a tension of something between you two, but you can’t name it. Not yet. But it’s there, like a blade cutting through a corset, it’s there. It’s what got you out of bed today, it’s what got Nikto to push himself to sleep shirtless for the first time in years. The possibility of…something. Unseen, you nod and take the food—moving away from the kitchen and sitting down on the couch, you carefully dig into breakfast and shift a dry forkful into your mouth.

Eyes closed, your head slightly bows forward as you chew.

It was no secret that you were quiet today, and Nikto didn’t have to be as sharp-eyed as he was to notice. By now you would have teased him about the effort for the food, or even spoken about the mattress you slept on, Nikto had hypothesized. But it was just…silent.

Nothing.

In the kitchen, the Russian’s brows crease, lips pulling. He huffs, rolling his shoulders as his bones crack.

He’d been up last night—for a long while—doing all the things he said he would until he had the clarity to understand hours later, that everything was a million times more complicated now that he knew the truth about this ‘trip’.

And he had to know all of it.

Nikto, truth be told, was a bit quiet himself; more than he usually was. He continued with breakfast in silence, listening to the sound of your fork tapping the plate as his brain fought with itself. The Russian’s mind told him to act like that hadn’t happened between the two of you—it was unprofessional, wrong down to the core. You were his charge, and he hadn’t hesitated for more than a second before he’d ripped open your dress and played with you like you were his own.

Why? Why was he so enamored by you? It didn’t make any sense. No one had ever mattered this much to him—it was absurd.

But whatever dead part of his heart that had come back to beat again said that ignoring this would be cruel to you; if all others in your life were, that was one thing he would not be. At least to you.

Nikto grunts under his breath and grabs his plate, stacked with six pancakes, before turning, grasping the jam with firm fingers, and heaping it on top. Blinking across to you, he pauses at your closed eyes—the dip of your head. Not only was there still food on your plate but it was set down on the coffee table, resting stationary.

You couldn’t possibly be done already.

“Not good?” He asks, voice gruff.

You shake your head. “No, Nikto, they were perfect. I’m just not that hungry this morning.” Pale blue eyes stare, blinking slowly.

He didn’t know what to do.

Looking down at his breakfast, Nikto clenches his jaw. Grasping his plate and his utensil he walks over before he sits beside you, sinking the cushions and shuffling aside the blanket he’d had last night. When you look over at him, confused, he doesn’t utter a word, before his free hand sneaks up and hooks under his balaclava.

It’s a moment, he knows, a moment of hesitation that instinctually tightens his muscles, stopping him with a shake of his fingers. And then, as he usually does, he forces himself through it.

Slipping the fabric up to his nose, you stare openly at the strong jaw that comes to light, as well as the unspoken horror of scars. It isn’t even a minute before the Russian leans back with a grunt, and spreads his feet until his knee knocks yours before he shoves the first of his pancakes into his mouth with muffled chewing.

Eyes darting away, you stare at your own feet tightly.

Silence settles.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“Да,” his words are grumbled, even if you can’t see it, his face is beginning to burn. Heavy memories coming back. He won’t stay long like this—he can’t. It hurts. “I do not.”

You sigh, hands moving up to rub along your face, cupping at it until all the whiteness of the hotel is hidden from your gaze. It wasn’t hard to feel him passing glances.

Shaking your head, your hands fall, and you move to mirror his own position—back leaning and legs kicking out, except yours go to rest on the table next to your plate.

“I think a part of me didn’t expect you to actually be here,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m not used to having to deal with…” your lips halt themselves, looking for words. “After.”

No one ever stayed. Not anyone that mattered.

Nikto’s clinking fork pauses, stuttering on its course. He licks his lips, tasting the sweetness of jam. He continues to watch you as you continue on beside him, bare skin brushing—those large biceps caressing yours.

“I don’t want things to be awkward. If you can’t do your job without something feeling off anymore, I would understand if you wanted to leave. I’m sure my mother can get another operator from KorTac to take me on, she already had two from before that might still be available. I know last night was a lot. I don’t want you to feel…pressured, I guess. That was never my intention.”

He lets you finish, sensing you need to get some things off of your chest. When had he become so soft to this? To you? He was losing his backbone here—losing that edge that kept him…him.

Or was that ever him in the first place?

“I will not leave,” Nikto speaks slowly, lips moving every scar that lives there. “We are not ‘feeling off’. No one will look after you like us, and so no one will take our place until this stalker is either taken away or in ground.”

“And the awkward part?” You ask, glancing over, getting caught by long cuts and fissures.

“We will deal,” Nikto’s chest rumbles, and you believe falling asleep to that sound would stop your nightmares altogether. “There are worse things than that, yes?”

You huff a laugh. “I guess.” A second later, you lightly bump your elbow into his side. “You’re better at this kind of stuff than I’d thought you’d be.”

Dark brows furrow.

“I am speaking truth. Nothing more.”

“Mhm,” your lips carefully peel in a tiny smile. “Sure, Big Guy.”

Nikto scoffs, rolling his eyes before he takes down more of his breakfast. He glances over to see you peeking at his old insignia tattoo—the one on his shoulder. It was strange to him, how you took so much more interest in his ink than the scars; he’d been thinking about it last night.

It was against your nature to not ask about them, and yet…you had. No one had ever not asked about the scars. But, hm, Nikto’s eyes shimmer, it only made his chest swell when you chose not to. As if you understood the sanctity of them—the importance.

That was something that he just wasn’t ready to speak about yet.

“You like it?” He speaks.

You blink quickly, looking back up in an instant. There was no use hiding it.

“What is it?” You ask him, glancing back down at the tattoo and tilting your head at it.

The image was of some sort of crest—a two-headed bird wearing crowns; holding items in their claws with a, smaller, image set into the middle. A man on horseback, spearing a dragon.

“FSB crest.” Nikto’s voice goes lower, more under the breath than previously. “Reminder of service.”

“Oh,” you mutter. “What are the colors?”

He hums. “Red, gold. Little silver. Mine is just black ink, though. Did not go back for second session.”

“I’ve thought of getting tattoos before,” you confess, moving out a slow hand to trace the outline in his flesh. You notice him still somewhat at your dragging nails, lips parting softly. “AMA would never go for it, but I’ve still wondered what it would be like.”

Nikto licks his lips, letting you feel him as he side-eyes you. His muscles soften as your heat seeps in, tingling blood under his epidermis.

“What kind?”

“A bird, I suppose,” you hum. “I think they’re lovely.”

Nikto tilts his head, but the questions can no longer sit in the back of his throat. “You continue to be their pawn. Why? I can make no sense of it, Seraph. You speak of yourself as if you are nothing.”

“I might not be anymore after last night,” you whisper, dropping your hand from Nikto’s flesh. Your eyes close; a heavy sigh on your lips. “I know it isn’t healthy, I know that. I know it’s wrong, and vile, and disgusting—but you have to hear me out when I tell you that the only thing I have is my looks—”

“That is a lie.” Nikto snarls, glaring over at your face as his plate hits the table. “Why do you say that? You are smart, Seraph, anyone with sense can see it. You are kind; good.” The Russian curses, repeating. “You are good.”

“AMA needs investments,” your voice is muffled. “I’m not the only one that has to do things like this. I’m not special.”

The man grinds out, “It does not matter if a million go through it—you are here with us. It is our job to keep you safe now. It is special to me.”

“From a stalker,” you argue, body starting to go rigid at the intensity of the conversation. You didn’t like talking about this.

“From any threat,” Nikto barks. Face close to yours and his hard, crooked nose brushing skin. “Is this not a threat to you?”

You stare into his eyes, and it’s an expression he can’t recall you having. It makes him nervous—nervous for you in a way that was similar to when you’d disappeared from his sight. It was dead. Dead how his eyes would get on the bad days—when he couldn’t differentiate between himself and his body; what had really happened and what hadn’t.

You were exhausted, and you didn’t even see it.

“You need sleep,” he drops the hard tone immediately, eyes snapping over your face in fast jerks. “You need rest. Now.”

“I’m not tired.” Pale eyes bore through you, and you relent softly. “...I don’t want any more nightmares.” Your lips open and close. “They scare me because I can’t remember them, but I know something bad happened.”

Fingers come up and brush your cheek, leaving your lips flattening before the tears can make themselves known to him.

There was just so much going on.

The stalker, now AMA and potential repercussions? You thought if you had one thing, you had your job—trials and exploitations all, but you still had that. You still had something. Now you might not even have a home to go back to.

Bare arms shift, looping around you. With a roaming of skin on skin, Nikto bundles you in his arms and lifts, legs taking your weight. He moves you as your head rests burrowed into his neck—forehead to the long cut that loops around the side of his throat to the front. That one really made you shiver; the thought of it—the error he must have felt. Without thinking, you lay a tiny kiss on the skin, and Nikto’s legs only stutter once before he pushes open the bedroom door.

Setting you down on the bed, he mumbles into your scalp before he pulls away, moving his balaclava back down with firm fingers. “What can I do?”

Your body shifts, clothed in borrowed pants and the weight of a million realities. You wished you could see the color of his eyes—those creased things that watch you so closely; the marring of the different shades of his scars.

You wished you could pick up the courage to ask him if you were his soulmate, at the very least. The hunch was dimming, taking a backburner the longer it stayed in your mind. Surely he would say something by now? Right? With how he was, you expected Nikto to be reserved about it, but now…

Now your hope was drowning itself.

You wished you weren’t damaged goods.

“Sit with me?” Your weak voice quivers, but no tears fall.

Nikto stares, head tilting slowly as his now re-hidden face is a mystery. “Да. Yes.” It’s so tiny that the words are almost lost.

So, he shifts into bed after placing his boots neatly near the bedframe, letting you scoot over as he grasps the end of the covers and moves to have his back connected to the headboard. With a large pull, the fabric slides over your body and levels at his abdomen, your head slightly above it, until scarred fingers grasp and push it down a bit.

For a bit, a heavy silence settles between the two of you. You don’t touch, you don’t talk. It’s the sound of beating hearts and rabid minds, thinking over thoughts that only serve to make things worse the longer their dark fingers are around both of your throats.

“Come,” Nikto murmurs.

Your body instantly connects to his, hands grasping into his pants and head nuzzling his thigh. His grip finds your head, running itself over it until it ends at your shoulder and pulls you tighter to him.

“Sleep. No nightmares, hm?” He glances down, trying to push a fractured joke. “We will scare them off.”

Your broken chuckle makes his chest tighten, and pale eyes avoid looking down at you for fear he’ll realize how addictive it is to have your flesh on his—the sensation of touch that was becoming a need. When was the last time he’d been relied on like this? Never, he thinks.

To be protection in the barest sense.

A boy keeping away nightmares for a girl that lays in his lap.

No weapons, no orders. Only hands and sagging bodies, and a care that was infecting him like venom—injected into his bloodstream by white fangs. It leveled out, coating him. He wanted you to be safe, and it wasn’t just because it was his job. It was because he couldn’t imagine seeing you in pain like this—in a slow death of the mind until the body rotted away with it.

It wasn’t right to him, and he couldn’t describe it as anything other than blasphemy. Sacrilege. Nikto didn’t have the words; maybe he never would. All that he knew was that he would kill millions to never see you harmed. He would rot in the deepest part of hell willingly, go through darkness and fire—but none of it could touch you. Not a wisp of flame; not an idea of torture.

You were good.

“Why do you care so much,” you whisper before you fall asleep, curious even as your eyelids are fighting to stay down.

Nikto has not taken his eyes off you. He was always honest, but this truth scares him more than any other. The nagging in the back of his skull.

“I…do not know.”

You were too good for this.

So even when he gets that text message on his phone when you’re fully sleeping, even when he shifts it out of his pocket and sees the unknown number, Nikto is not going to wake you. He’s not going to shake your head as he massages the scar that lives there, his thumb taking in the familiar bumps and dips—the trauma it caused so similar to his own.

Nikto will not tell you of the sinking in his chest.

The guard accepts that little death in his heart when he sees that image of the both of you in the storage room. He accepts the little death when he sees your tightly closed eyes from over his own shoulder, hands digging into his one-size-too-small suit. The obvious actions taking place that are still seared into his mind hours later.

He accepts the little death of the caption, all in Russian but never more vile in his mind.

‘I know what you did.’

And he accepts that this stranger's death will not be so little if he ever gets his hands on him.

TAGS:

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wisteria-lotus · 2 months

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Hidden Confessions

Written by: wisteria

Edited by: lotus

Content. MDNI :nsfw!, 18+, fluff, slight angst, smut, explicit language, vaginal fingering, breast play, unprotected sex (tell us if we missed anything!)

Sorcerer AU

Pairing:Fushiguro Megumi x fem! Reader

(Childhood friends to lovers)

(all characters aged up!)

August 14th, 2007

You looked at all the other kids your age, playing around and having fun. Laughing and screaming as they played tag endlessly. While you, a six and A HALF year old, were talking to your very first friend you made when you moved to this unfamiliar town. That first friend being, Tsumiki, Tsumiki Fushiguro. “Tsumiki!” you would shout, each time you would see her at the playground nearest to your house. Yet, this time a grumpy boy was next to her, with jet black hair, sharp eyes, and a very intimidating mood to him. Tsumiki soon introduced him, her younger brother, Megumi Fushiguro. Though at first he was scary, it’s right to like people that Tsumiki likes, if she likes something, you would. If she didn’t like something, you wouldn’t like it. She was your role model, someone who first approached you. And so, with the built up courage, you approached. “Hello! My name is Y/N. I’m six and a half!” which was actually the standard first-time greeting for kids your age. Pushing your hand forward like an adult for a hand shake, awkward seconds passed until he finally spoke,“ Fushiguro Megumi. five years old” his voice monotone without a hint of the joys you hear from the other boys. “Sorry, He’s not very…social.” Tsumiki quickly said after the cold greeting his brother had given you, followed by an awkward laugh from her. Although he was a bit odd, you would have to like him, since Tsumiki did as well.

September 5th, 2006

You found out some details about him, but not from him of course, all from Tsumiki. One thing you learned was that he liked to read, since that was usually all he did when you three were hanging out, even when you attempted to talk to him. you noticed that he likes to eat food that's well paired with ginger, for some odd reason, especially for someone who’s only six years old. Yet you let it slide, since Tsumiki didn’t mind. The one memory you remember would be the one where you were playing hide and seek with Tsumiki, while megumi was reading a book filled with tiny words, which you knew barely nothing of, you had been caught from hiding and started to run away from Tsumiki, where she was the tagger, yet you tripped on a uneven pavement tile, making you scrape your knee. It stung a lot, especially since it was basically solid concrete, your eyes burning a little, but trying not to cry. Megumi was there, rummaging through his backpack and walking towards you with a blank face, crouching down to see the injury. You were surprised he had even seen you fall at this point. While Tsumiki was worried about you but also adoring the little interaction you two were having. Megumi taking out an alcohol wipe to clean the scrape, those ones you would see at the doctors when they were cleaning your wound that would sting like you had been hit by a car. You were terrified. “Noooo!!!! Not the wipe!!” You whined with slightly watery eyes. Megumi looked up at you and sighed. “It’s not gonna hurt”, was what he said, but that was a big lie, a big fat lie. Because right when it touched your skin, it stung. You bit your lip, maybe enough for it to bleed, not wanting to be known as a crybaby in front of Tsumiki and Megumi. The pain did subside though with the help of the plain band aid that covered your once exposed wound. You were a bit bummed out it wasn’t any of your favorite band aids, like the one with hello kitty on it, but you’ll accept, just because he’s Tsumiki’s beloved younger brother. “Thank you!” you said to him after he had put the band aid on, your nose red from the attempt to not cry. He stood up and turned around after, you swore you saw a glimpse of him smiling when he turned. But you were four, how would you remember?

November 23rd, 2006

The last day you saw the Fushiguro siblings, you were waiting for them at the playground, the same time you guys usually meet. Yet, after 15 minutes passed, they were nowhere to be seen. . So, you decided to walk towards their house to check on them , only to see people moving things. . ‘Huh.’ is what popped up in your head that day. Then, Tsumiki and Megumi began to walk out and get into a car, one you have never seen being used by the two of them. There was also a peculiar tall white haired man going into the car with Tsumiki and Megumi. But, the people moving boxes from their house only meant one thing: they were moving. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that they hadn’t even told you. A trickle of teardrops fell down your cheeks and your sleeves were stained from rubbing the tears off your face. . Megumi turned back, feeling someone staring and saw you, crying, the same expression that he wore that day when you had scraped your knee. Megumi gave you one last look before turning back to get inside the car, where Tsumiki was already in. That day was the last day you saw those two. The last day they would be there to play with you. The last day you saw the Fushiguros.

January 1st,2017

January 1st, 2017, was the day you almost died. Frozen in place from seeing the gruesome monster in front of you. ‘What the hell’, was your only thoughts that momentYou couldn’t move and broke out in cold sweat, because of the ‘thing’ in front of you that was eating a… human limb?! . Blood splattered on the walls, the floors and you could hear the horrible noise and crunch of the monster chewing on the bones. . ‘Run. run. Run. run,’ you screamed internally to yourself,but for some reason, you couldn’t. Then, in the flash of an eye, someone came in and punched it. You saw a glimpse of bright pink hair and brown eyes. You finally staggered back. It was gone..? How?

The boy looked over at you, kinda like a very curious puppy, “You can see it?”

“What?”

“The curse, like the ugly one”

“Y-yes…”

He smiled, like a big beam of sun, so warming.

“I better tell Gojo about this. You're gonna be my classmate!”

He pulled his hand out forward even though it was still covered in the goo.

“Oh-”

He wiped it after noticing it though.

“My name is Yuuji Itadori.”

That’s how it started. How you had started your training of becoming a jujutsu sorcerer.

January 3rd,2017

You could hear Yuji talking, his voice a bit muffled, mixed with the voice of a girl. It was nerve wracking how a girl who was attending a regular high school transferred to one in the mountains, also finding out that she had some weird curse technique of some sort that you still can’t figure out yourself. ‘Here it goes’ you thought. Taking a big breath and finally sliding the door open, walking in. “This is our new student! y/n!” your teacher, Gojo, said with a big smile.

You lifted your head up finally, to see one girl with short brown hair, slicked to the side, Yuji Itadori, and… Fushiguro..Megumi. You found out the girl’s name was Kugisaki Nobora. She was pretty cheerful, like Yuji. Then there wasMegumi, the same Megumi from eleven years ago, the same one who gave you the bandaid on your knee that day. So, you being you, you tried to approach him again. A small spark of hope grew inside you that Megumi would say something back. Anything. But, as expected, he just walked away, crushing any lasting hope that you had into ashesUntil you met him in the hallways while going back to your dorm.

“Megumi.”

He looked at you, his hands in his pockets, with that same blank expression.

“How’s tsumiki?” you asked, since that was the first thing that popped into your head.

That's when it hit him. The sad look on his face when you mentioned her name. He looked away for a moment. The whole mood just got brought down even more. He finally just crumbled, the once stone statue crumbled in an instant. He crouched down on the ground covering his face while his body was shaking. You quickly went down knowing that something had probably happened.

“Megumi?”

You tried to put your hand on his back but he quickly swatted it away. His face getting revealed, tears rolling down his delicate green eyes. He was crying, in front of you. He felt warmth the next second, your arms wrapped around him, making him finally give in and cry it all out. He was hurt.

“Oh..it's going to be alright..”

But he shook his head covering his face on your shoulders.

What had really happened?

January 4th-5th, 2017

This was themost awkward situation you’ve ever been in. sparring with THE Fushiguro megumi, and after last night seeing him like that?! You gave Nobora the saddest face, mouthing to her, ”please get me out.” You had gotten beat up quite a bit after the sparring session. You walked towards Yuji and Nobora for comfort.

“Does he usually hit so hard..” you groaned

“What.? He went so easy on you!” Yuji said

“WHAT.”

There was no way he would go easy on you. Why would he?

You thought about that for some time, no, the whole day, and you made the conclusion, it’s probably because Tsumiki said something..

But what really happened to her that made him break down like that last night..?

So you went up to your sensei, finding out the horrifying news to which would make you break down too if you were in megumi’s shoes. Tsumiki fell into a coma.

The next day, you didn’t really process things well. Yuji would be talking to you head on, yet you were in another world. The whole day.

October 5th, 2023

It’s been years, and Tsumiki was still in a coma. Well, she was in front of you after all, laying down in the hospital for god knows how long. Megumi besides you, just looking down. You guys have gotten closer throughout the years though. Knowing each other's hobbies and sorts. One wet droplet fell on the blanket of Tsumiki’s and you looked to your right. He was crying, just like that day, his fluttering eyelashes slightly clumped together from his tears. Even if he was crying, he was still drop dead gorgeous. You really didn’t know what to do in this situation except to hug him, when the feeling of deja vu hit you. “It’s gonna be okay..” you said repeatedly, even though you wouldn’t know half the pain he felt.

“Y/N.. it hurts.”

“I know..”

You regret saying those words right when it came out of your mouth, you knew you were lying, you could never feel how hurt he was.

Him crying like that, was what ended you up in the bar, drinking to your heart's content with him. The beer bottles out on the table from others, the bustling restaurant and the drunk workers talking to each other. Other college students having a party for who knows what. But what really concerned you was Megumi’s drinking skills. You could handle maybe 3 quarters of a bottle at most. But he couldn't even handle half. He was already confessing to you about how even though he looked like he hated Gojo sensei, he was grateful that he had a home thanks to him. Just hearing that made you sober. Telling you how Yuji and Nobora were actually the first people after you to talk to him without being scared. Soon after his rants, he fell asleep. This led you to having his arms on your shoulders, carrying him into his apartment (you found his keys in his pocket). Clacking your shoes off the front door, finally, you just have to make it to the couch. One step, two step, three.. You felt a hand creep to your waist, pulling you down with him, you landed with a big oof on the couch.

“y/n.”

You were only mere inches away, you could feel his minty breath against you. While he nuzzled his head against the crook of your neck.

“Megumi, you're drunk..”

He shook his head.

“Mm..shut up.”

He raised his head up to see your face. His delicate eyelashes flutter to admire you. Oh. he was close. Too close. You were sure it was the alcohol making your ears heated as well as your face. It had to be.

“I should go-”

He cut you off with a kiss, one so gentle but so alluring. Geez, it had to be the alcohol. Even from breaking the kiss once his lips kept on coming back to yours, like a magnet. You knew he was smart, which was probably how his tongue slid into your mouth, and how his hand slid up your sweater. His hands were cold, unclasping your bra while you were still distracted with the ongoing kisses. Your nipples perked up, while he squeezed and played with it like the little remotes on the claw machines and then that slick feeling in your panties. His other hand creeped to play with your clothed folds.

“You're making me go insane..” his voice was raspy yet it made your body shake.

His lips made its way down to your neck, sucking on it. It didn’t make the mess in your panties get better at all, it made it worse. His fingers rubbing your still-clothed clit gently, as you couldn't keep in your moans ever since the beginning anyways, but now it had only gotten louder. The noises filled the room, casting a heated mood. The wet noises of his fingers going in and out of you while your moans filled his ears. How did it even turn out like this? What was more insane was how Megumi looked under you. You knew he was skillful with his hands, after all, he uses it for summoning his shikigamis, but not in this way. Not the way to make your body shudder and feel all tingly when he kept rubbing and thrusting his fingers inside. The light scent of his perfume matched him perfectly. It was all so intimate to you. How his hands roamed around leaving sparks of excitement. Lifting up your clothes from your body swiftly, taking off your panties, while his lips trailing red marks.

“Do you like it?”

Yet your mouth wouldn’t help you reply at all. Only moans coming out. His fingers thrust into you from each breath you take. You were close. Your insides tighten around his fingers, making his dick harden from thinking about the pure ecstasy of his dick inside you instead of his fingers.

“I’m gonna-” but the last word wouldn’t come out.

“Say it for me” his voice slightly seductive from his usually cold tone of voice.

“Im gonna cum-” which was followed by a loud moan and your back arching.

His two fingers getting drenched in your cum was such a sight. His eyes filled with raw desire, erupting butterflies in your stomach.

“Fuck. y/n..”

Even after you came you wanted more, like a magnet for him. You wanted him, no, you needed him. Even though after this your friendship may become a ruin, you wouldn't care less after seeing his dick bulging out of his gray- black boxers. Leading to you trying to put his length inside of you, tempting to megumi. Moaning continuously from each inch getting swallowed deeper inside you. Your hands on his chest while sucked your hard nipples, saliva dripping down your chest. It was so tempting for him to just bring his hands to your waist and thrust you down onto him, but he had some self control. Slowly thrusting up and down from him, squelching noises filling the room. Shit, he really couldn’t help himself anymore. So his hands were brought up to our waist finally pushing your waist up and down.

“Ahn-!” gasping from the surprise of how deep and quick he went.

He flipped you over and started to thrust deeper while occupying your mouth with sloppy, deep kisses.

“Your tightening around me so much, y/n..ngh-” his groan was even beautiful to you.

His sweat making his body glisten in the dim lighting. The creaking of the couch was unnoticeable to what was already happening.

“Megumi, megumi-!” His name spewing out of your mouth from each thrust was melodic. Everything was so sensitive to you, as if your senses were heightened. You thought, at this point his dick would be shaped inside you. His grip on your waist tightening more as he thrust into you deeper, making you already loud moans even louder.

“I love you for being so damn stupid” thrust “stubborn” thrust “annoying”

Your walls clenching around him, making you cum for the second time, making a grunt spill out of his mouth. His dick getting pulled out quickly while his cum shot onto you. A gasp leaving your mouth from his withdrawal, while your clit throbs from the previous orgasm. He fell next to you on the couch to regain his composure, panting while sweat dripped down his handsome sculpted face.

After a few minutes you finally realized what mess you made with him as well as what you did with him, first of all. Yet he was unfazed, I mean after all he confessed to you his long burrowed feeling for you while you guys were… In the corner of his eyes he saw you slap your face to get yourself out of the trance, making him chuckle a little. Bringing some wipes and cleaning the evidence of what had happened. His touch was soft and gentle, who wouldn’t fall for a man like him.

“I love you too, megumi.”

He looked up at you in slight surprise, “what did you say?”

“I love you, megumi”

You saw the slight pink rise up on his face as well as his ears, and you couldn’t help but smile.

He just continued to help you, but you already knew he loved you as much as you did him.

#jjk #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi #jjk fanfic

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maddie7writes · 1 year

Text

EXS AND OHS

summary : y/n and harry are recently engaged, but in y/n’s line of work, she runs into lots of his exs and their not all happy for the couple

warnings : just bitter people

harry’s dating history wasn’t exactly a secret, but the list of exs would come to a hault, as the 50,000 dollar diamond sat on y/n’s ring finger with pride. but y/n wasn’t exactly a nobody, she had two vouge covers and three world tours under her belt along with opening and closing fashion week malin, paris, and new york, and not to mention several blockbuster movies.

she was kind of a big deal.

but in her line of work, she had lots of run ins with her loves exs, and they weren’t always pleasant.

—

y/n was booked for victorias secrets comeback show, and she was a nervous wreck. her strict diet made harry worried sick, and her coworkers were starting to worry y/n.

“and you’re sure you want to come? i understand if you don’t—.” “—y/n i love you. i’m goin’ to be at everything for the rest of your life. even if my ex is there.” he assured with a kiss to her forehead. she sighed, and a week later found herself in hair and makeup getting ready to strut out like she was on top of the world.

“make sure to flash that ring okay? it’s been on covers for the past month.” her agent said, as she stared down the poor hair and makeup crew. y/n heard a distant scoff in the background but she chose to ignore it. “i thought for the show it had to come off?” y/n asked, she didn’t exactly want to part with it but she didn’t want to break any rules. “not when the one who gave it to you is harry styles. trust me, the show will be memorable because of the ring.” her agent scoffed with a few taps to her phone then back to insane staring.

just then, the busty, perfectly thin blonde, with small bronze chrome wings came walking around in lingerie. “the reason he never proposed to me is because his taste in rings never met my standards.” camllie gossiped to a fresh faced girl, clearly new-ish to the modeling world. y/n rolled her eyes and kept her thoughts to her self.

when y/n got out of hair and makeup she was draped in gold lingerie with diamonds dripping from the bra. it was for their anniversary line, and the bralette would only be sold to select clientele. the matching panties were gold as the metal brushed the modesty garment she wore. then large gold wings were applied, weighing less then she has anticipated.

“she’ll open, then jenner and rowe will follow ten paces behind, wait at the top of the runway and walk back before them.” a manager explained to y/n and her agent. y/n nodded before being moved to were she was directed, greeting kendall with a smile and hug.

“i haven’t seen you in forever!” kendall smiled and embraced her, the two went on a brand trip together before she got engaged and at the start of her and harry’s relationship and ended up sipping on margaritas and gossiping on a yacht the whole time. privileged and elite? sure, but they had a great time.

“i know, we have to do a trip just us.” y/n smiled, kendall was already grabbing her hand to see the ring. “god! he’s always had good taste but y/n this is gorgeous.” she gasped and looked between the ring and y/n. camille scoffed beside her. “please, the diamond has a blue tint. i doubt it’s even real.” camille rolled her eyes.

“it’s tinted blue because he chose to not stain it. he went water mining when we were in bali, someone helped him find it, and he chose to not stain it.” y/n clarified, just like that the lights cut and ariana grandes unmistakable vocals of dangerous woman was heard, y/n was counted off and she strutted out.

—

y/n would definitely say her least favorite job was acting. there was so much drama in almost every romance movie she’s filmed, so when she was casted as gwen for the fourth spider-man movie to bring a love triangle into poor spider-man’s life, she was excited that it would be an action movie even if she was playing a love interest.

that was of course until she figured out who would be working on the movie with her.

olivia wilde.

y/n tried to remain professional, tho it was difficult with tom seeing as he was so giggly about everything, and zendya was laughing about how forced tom looked. everything was more natural with tom and zendya tho, so to switch between his girlfriend and his friend must have been weird for tom, so y/n tried to keep that in mind and remind her it wasn’t her fault the scenes weren’t working the way she wanted them to.

however one of the directors did not agree.

“y/n, can you step off set for a moment.” olivia’s voice sounded, tom looked confused as did y/n before she stepped off set as she was asked and followed oliva nervously.

“is there an issue?” y/n asked. oliva scoffed, “of course there is. this scene should have taken four takes, max. we have over forty of you and tom laughing. if you can’t play a love interest we will have to find someone who can.” she scolded, y/n was slightly offended.

two actors that have never worked together, taking on a role in a movie where they’re meant to be navigating love together, is not easy. and their first kissing scene might take a few try’s, but that’s not enough to threaten y/n’s contract over.

“unfortunately you might want to check the contract marvel signed, this is not cause for termination, and you cannot terminate my contract period. but if you would like to submit a claim that i am unable to preform my required task, i will happily take that battle with management. i really don’t want to waste anyone’s time so should i head back to set or?” y/n looked at oliva innocently with a smirk, brushing her hair back so her ring caught the light.

“watch you back, l/n.”

“styles. but close.”

safe to say y/n reported that threat and oliva wasn’t heard from again.

—

“you look absolutely divine.” harry came up behind her, kissing the exposed skin on her neck from her half slicked wave, old hollywood hairstyle. y/n laughed as she looked at them in the mirror. harry, in his colorful sparkly patch work jumpsuit, and her in her all black,

a-symmetrical neckline of the all black floor length dress she wore. their two personalities showing on their faces. she was so excited for tonight, she had a good feeling about harry’s changes of the trophy.

“you ready to sweep tonight?” she asked, he blushed. “don’t jinx me, the grammys don’t tend to like me.” he said in a hushed voice, y/n rolled her eyes and kissed her husbands cheek deeply. “not this year. i can feel it.”

her words ended up being true, with harry’s complete sweep. he was overcome with emotion, and y/n sat with him through all of it. holding his hand and even kissing him when he induced it, which was rare seeing as he hated pda especially when cameras were around.

they had plans to skip the after party and go get a pizza with the band and team, then go home and celebrate like old people with sleep. however their plans were put to a hault when taylor swift approached. y/n, ever the swiftie, was sure she was about to pass out as she squeezed her fiancés hand.

“congratulations harry.” she smiled and hugged him briefly before turning back to y/n. “and your performance was amazing, i had no idea your range was so good?” taylor said, y/n’s eyes went wide and she nodded. “oh yeah- yeah thanks.” she tried to laugh it off and leaned into harry’s comforting touch, he tried to hold back a laugh and taylor could tell.

“i have a few ideas and i want you to be a part of it, here’s my number— new number—.” she glanced at harry. “—and call me, so we can start scheming.” she winked at y/n, who was definitely dead. “congrats again harry.” she patted his shoulder before turning around and going to find her other friends.

“holy shit.” y/n whispered as she clutched taylor swifts number. harry chuckled and kissed her, “we can call her in the morning yeah? pizza and sleep okay?” he said, only to be welcomed with a large kiss and a i love you.

four months later, here y/n was, doing her one night only with taylor fucking swift.

harry was sitting in the 1989 friends and family box, with gigi, zayne, and their daughter as they caught up. gigi made sure to comment on how harry’s all access pass said ‘STYLE MUSE’ instead of harry styles.

the concert was perfect, everything was amazing. after all, taylor was considered the one of the best performers of all time. then as she stayed on stage after her two surprise songs, fans cheered even louder than usual.

“i actually have something i want to give you guys.” fans bracelets began flashing blue as screams could almost shatter the stadium, taylor laughed.

“i think you guys noticed i skipped style tonight.” she smirked, louder screams were heard and y/n stood backstage in her light blue wide legged pants, and white satin top. waiting nervously for her cue as they adjusted her headset and in ear microphone.

“i also want to throw in just one more surprise song, just for you guys!l she said excitedly, but didn’t wait for the crowd to quiet as she used the mic to talk over them. “please welcome miss y/n styles!” she screamed, and the stadium screamed back as the beat to style began to play.

harry recorded like a proud husband and sang along to every word as he watched y/n dance around on stage, in her element to a song he inspired.

“you got that long hair slick back white t-shirt.” both the girls flicked part of their hair over to imitate harry back in one direction, and ran a hand from their neck down to their pelvis as they sung, then tossed one shoulder and strutted down the diamond like models. which y/n was, harry thought to himself.

style passed, the loudest cheer in the whole room came from harry. so happy to see the woman he loved getting to work with her idol and be so happy doing it.

“i think there’s one more that goes to perfectly with us, don’t you think taylor?” y/n asked, fighting back the happy tears in her eyes. taylor bit back a smile and nodded, “what do you think Los Angeles?” she asked, they screamed. and the beat to i think he knows began to play.

the girls sang and danced along with the crowd, harry didn’t know this song very well so he was hyper focused on making sure to get all of y/n’s performance while also watching her.

“he’s got that boyish look that i like in a man.” y/n sung, and stopped dancing as she looked at taylor.

“i am an architect i’m drawing up the plans.” taylor copied the movements.

“he’s so obsessed with me and boy i understand.” y/n flipped her hair jokingly, making sure to flash the ring before both girls turned to face each other taylor grabbing y/n’s hand to look at the ring before screaming the line; “boy i understand!”

harry’s heart was skipping around 13th avenue.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #fluff #harry blurb #harry #famous!reader #harry styles x famous!reader

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commodorez · 9 months

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I still believe the craziest form of computer program storage format from the 1980s is the cassette tape. Logical I get it but to store entire programs on little tape (that I only remember using to play music) is just crazy to me. Idk

Agreed, cassette tape for data storage was really clever. The concept had its heyday was the 1970s in a wide variety of encoding schemes for different computer platforms. It did persist into the 80s, mostly in Europe, while the US switched to floppy disks as soon as they were available for systems. The majority of my Ohio Scientific software is on cassette.

Talking with UK vs. US Commodore 64 users in particular will highlight the disparity in which storage mediums that were commonplace. I've got a few pieces of software on tape for mainly the VIC-20, but I rarely bother to use it, because it's slow and annoying. To be fair, Commodore's implementation of data storage on tape is pretty rock solid relative to the competition. It's considered more reliable than other company's but Chuck Peddle's implementation of the cassette routines are considered quite enigmatic to this day. He didn't document it super well, so CBM kept reusing his old code from the PET all the way through the end of the C128's development 7 years later because they didn't want to break any backward compatibility.

The big thing that really made alot of homebrewers and kit computer owners cozy up to the idea was the introduction of the Kansas City Standard from 1976. The idea of getting away from delicate and slow paper tape, and moving towards an inexpensive, portable, and more durable storage medium was quite enticing. Floppy disk drives and interfaces were expensive at the time, so something more accessible like off the shelf audio tapes made sense.

I've linked two places you can read about it from Byte Magazine's February 1976 issue below (check the attribution links).

You might recognize a familiar name present...

There are a few ways to encode binary data on tape designed to handle analog audio, but the KCS approach is to have 1's be 8 cycles of 2400Hz tone, and 0's be 4 cycles of 1200Hz tone. I say cycles, because while 300 baud is the initial specification, there is also a 1200 baud specification available, so the duration of marks vs spaces (another way of saying 1's and 0's), is variable based on that baud rate. Many S-100 computers implemented it, as do a few contemporary proprietary designs.

The big 3 microcomputers of 1977 that revolutionized the industry (Apple II, Commodore PET 2001, and Tandy TRS-80 Model I) each have their own cassette interface implementation. It kept costs down, and it was easy to implement, all things considered. The Apple II and TRS-80 use off-the-shelf cassette deck connections like many other machines, whereas the original variant of the PET had an integrated cassette. Commodore later used external cassette decks with a proprietary connector, whereas many other companies abandoned tape before too long. Hell, even the original IBM PC has a cassette port, not that anybody bothered to use that. Each one used a different encoding format to store their data, rather than KCS.

Here's a sample of what an OSI-formatted tape sounds like.

And here's a Commodore formatted tape, specifically one with VIC-20 programs on it.

I won't subject you to the whole program, or we'd be here all day. The initial single tone that starts the segment is called the "leader", I've truncated it for the sake of your ears, as well as recorded them kinda quietly. I don't have any other tape formats on hand to demonstrate, but I think you get the idea.

You can do alot better than storing programs on tape, but you can also do alot worse -- it beats having to type in a program every time from scratch.

#kansas city standard #cassette tape #commodore vic-20 #ohio scientific

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smallestapplin · 5 months

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Kaveh and Alhaitham omegaverse hc

I was going to do more but it's late and I'm so tired. But I'd like to hear anyone's thoughts, opinions, or asks! ^-^ might make more later.

Btw this is separately. Lemme know what ya think.

Kaveh

- hot take, Kaveh is actually a alpha, he just doesn't act like a jerk like most do because that's just not him, it's just his secondary gender to him, nothing more.

- He envies omega's and their ability to make such comfy structures. He tries to make nests but gets embarrassed at how well he makes them he destroys them and never mentions it.

- He's very picky about scents, but it makes him so nervous about what he smells like or how other's perceive him after hearing a few omegas mention how they love the scent of their alphas.

- He smells sweet like honey, with subtle scents of the coffee he drinks. However his sweeter mellower scent gets drowned out in all his nights at the tavern trying to drink away his stress.

- Kaveh grows distressed easily, which sours his scent in more of a burnt popcorn smell which shoos other's away from him on accident.

- You two started off as friends before anything, just the cute omega who worked at the Tavern, his harsh scent and drinking made you worried, so slowly while making his drinks you'd talk to him. You aren't surprised at how much he opens up, but it surprises him how kind you are letting him vent like this.

- Sometimes you'd even meet him outside of your place of work and get shocked at just how wonderful he is without the drinking, you don't mind, but he holds a conversation better without slurring his words.

- One thing led to him asking if he could court you, and how could you say no when he made you a mini scale model of a garden?

- His nesting habits come up when you come to his (Alhaitham's) house, to his room and see the nest he forget to take down.

- He was stressed last night and being covered helped!

- "I-i hope it's not a turn off or anything! I just, I get stressed and sad and these are nice to have to feel safe, you know?"

- You do, you make stressed nests all the time.

- But you don't move, which worried him, until you look at him and gesture to it "Can I join you in your nest?"

- Asking like any mate should.

- "Yes! Yes of course! Oh i hope it's okay and up to your standards-"

- "Kaveh, it's your nest, not mine, I'm just happy you are letting me inside it, I'm honored.'

- You comment on how good the structure of the pillow walls are and how comfy the blankets are, and it ends with your alpha curled around you, dozing happily with you in his arms, nuzzling into your neck scenting you.

- He purrs loudly, it fills a small room with noise if it's quiet enough, but its so cute.

Alhaitham

- another hot take, he is an omega. He hates leading, hates being the center of attention, loathes it when people ask him for anything, he just wants to be left alone with his work and to leave.

- However is never misses taking his heat suppressants, never misses taking any scent blockers, and doesn't even touch nesting matieral. To everyone and anyone he is just a moody beta.

- His scent is hidden, at most he smells like fresh paper, ink, and his shampoo. However if you were to smell is original scent it would be sage and orange, it's pleasant but not too strong, though you'd be able to point him out in a crowd from it alone.

- He rejects his secondary gender to the nines, he's seen how omegas get treated and hounded after and he's just not interested in finding anyone to date or mate, he will be damned if he's expected to be some stay at home omega either.

- No nesting items aside for whats needed for his basic bed, just two pillows and two comforter, and that so he can switch them when one needs to be washed.

- Since he is on surpressants he doesn't have his heat,, he avoids it like the plague, which he is thankful for cause it's just a nuisance in his eyes, he sees no purpose in having one, and he's is one of a handful of lucky ones that can afford it.

- His friendship qith you was a slow build. You two started off as 'you're the only coworker I can tolerate.' To occasionally chatting just before leaving for the day, to one of you hiding in the other's office to pretend to be talking something over to avoid people, to small hang outs outside of work even if you'd do most of the chatting, to coming over to his house (and promising his roommate not to speak a work.) to him denying he has any feelings for you.

- You are another omega who gets where he is coming from, and the only person who knows he's an omega too! So he swears it's just that you two have something to bond over.

- You two only started a unlikely courtship after he had been avoiding you for weeks, and you locked yourself in his office to explain himself, his calmness just annoyed you further and further until he broke at the sight of you near tears.

- You thought you were losing your friend, and honestly he did too.

- You walked out of his office with a bright smile and one of his favored bookmarks as a small claim.

- You give him gifts all the time, which he thinks is not needed but he can't help but feel touched by the fanart you always gift him thinks he's mentioned wanting to needing in passing.

- You two take it slow, but you both mesh together well, it's clear to see how you two fit together like a puzzle, one easily picking up one thing the other lacks, it's like watching a well oiled machine in action.

- He finds your scent comforting and often likes spending time at your house than anything,, it's drowned in your scent, how can he not love it?

- He watches you build a nest so effortlessly and beckens him in. His heart flutters, knowing this is a big step and a huge sign of trust, even if his expression doesnt change much.

- He likes cuddling with you face to face or you laying on his chest so he can still read, but he always keeps an arm around you, or is at least touching you in someway.

- Everyone knows you two are together just from him walking into work smelling like you, or because you barge into his office or wherever he is reading to scold him for leaving his lunch.

- His purr is silent, you'd never know he was purring unless you pressed your ear to his chest.

- His scent is safe with you, and you know you can rely on him to help you with your heats.

- Though neither of you know how that one will work as omega omega relationships are rare, and there isn't a guide book (he's looked.)

- But you two will get through it together.

#omegaverse #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact omegaverse #genshin omegaverse #genshin kaveh x reader #genshin Alhaitham x reader #genshin impact kaveh x reader #genshin impact Alhaitham x reader #x reader omegaverse #genshin x reader omegaverse #genshin impact x reader omegaverse

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jasmines-library · 1 year

Text

Spinning out.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 14. Prompt: Water inhalation. Fandom: Top Gun (Maverick daughter reader x Bradley Bradshaw)

Summary: When a mission goes wrong and you and Rooster are sent into a tizzy, forcing you to eject, you run into a sticky situation when your lifevest fails to inflate.

Warnings: Drowning, Water inhalation, Near death experience, minor ptsd.

Word count: 2K

Notes: I'm sorry. (Side note, this can be plationic or romantic.)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

The sun was just rising above the skyline as the familiar rumble of the jet started up. Shortly after that came the weightlessness as it soared into the sky. It was supposed to be a simple mission, take down a couple of fighters that had stepped over the territory line, then return in time for a drink down at the ‘Hard Deck’.

You would never not admire the way the world looked from up here as you soared between the mountains towards the ocean, leaving the base as a tiny grey speck in the distance. It took your breath away.

“How’s it looking back there, Viper?” Rooster asked from the front of the jet. The com crackled in your ear.

“All good, roo.” You replied, glancing down at the multitude of buttons and screens.

Rooster has been your best friend since you were young. You had grown up with each other and worked your way through Top Gun to follow in your parents’ footsteps. He was the Goose to your Maverick. Literally. Although the two of you were only young when his dad passed, you had seen the way that it broke him, much like the way it broke your dad. And although you would never completely be able to understand Roosters grief, you stuck to him through thick and thin.

Once you were finally old enough to join Top Gun, your dad was hesitant. He had lost his best friend. He wouldn’t lose you too, though it was all you knew. It was all you had wanted to do since you were 6 years old and playing with model planes in the garden with Brad. And so, there you were; strapped tightly to the chair of a plane hurtling through the atmosphere as your best friend’s RIO. And you couldn’t think of anything better.

Time passed nonchalantly as the fighter edged towards the opposition. Although it was a standard mission that you had done hundreds of times you still couldn’t help but form an anxious knot in your stomach, especially when the other jets came into view.

“Bandits ahead.” You informed the Phoenix and Bob who were cruising along besides you.

“Copy.”

You watched the small dots dance across the green screen. The triangle of fighters heading straight towards the four of you. “Heading straight towards us.” You told Rooster, who nodded abruptly and began to manoeuvre the plane to the right.

“Taking evasive action.”

The jet swerved as it raced past the enemy, before setting in line behind them. They broke apart, scattering around you.

“Shit.” Cursing, you tried to adjust the monitors to locate the plane that had slipped from view on the monitor. “I’ve lost one of them. Bob, anything.”

“Negative.”

As Rooster flew, you kept a keen eye out for the third plane which had vanished within the clouds that obscure your view.

Thanks to his skilled training, Rooster managed to take down one of the enemy vessels without an issue. The second one was trickier, with both pairs of planes making a beeline towards it as it raced away, You could feel the force on your body making it harder to move as Bradley urged the plane forwards. You could see the two dots inching closer together until they were nearly aligned.”

“Rooster, I can’t get the shot.” Phoenix called out over.

“Copy. Just give me a moment.”

Narrowing his eyes, Rooster placed his thumb over the missile, twisting the jet so that he could get a clear shot. When the lines finally aligned and the control panel let out a happy chirp, he pressed the trigger down, launching the missile which hit its target and sent it careening into the water. Phoenix congratulated your partner as you continued to search the sky for the missing plane. Though seemingly it was truly out of sight. After deciding that it may have retreated, and receiving the go ahead from Maverick to return to base, you reeled back around and began the journey home.

“I’m glad I can bring you back in one piece Y/N.” Brad sighed from in front of you. “Now there’s one less reason for Mav to kill me.”

That was when the monitors began blinking, and the third dot reappeared on the scanner.

“Break! Break!” You yelled as they locked onto your jet, launching a missile towards you. Quick on his feet, Rooster swerved.

“Bandit found!” He called out over the comms as you moved to fiddle with the switches, although the frantic movement made it hard to move as it sent you sliding around.

The enemy was suddenly coming up in front of you, causing Bradley to break hard. “Shit!”

When it pushed in front of you, the force which it left with, shoved your plane harshly, causing you to slam into the side of your chair.

“Jet-wash!” He cried out.

There was no time to react as the force sent your plane spiralling. Lights flashed frantically in the cockpit as the high pitched alarm screeched. “Both engines out!”

Without the aid of the engines the fighter jet was forced into a tizzy, twisting as it spun out of control. At some point the motion had slammed you into the glass of the cockpit. You cried out painfully.

“Viper!?”

Your body screamed at you as you tried to move but the force of your body as the jet rapidly dropped in attitude was too much to allow you to move.

“Eject!” You told him, craning your head to twist towards the two loops that hung in between where the two of you were stationed. “I can’t reach the handles. You have to eject!”

Eyes wide and frantic, Rooster reached behind him , fumbling for the fabric. When his shaky hands wrapped around them, he gave them a sharp tug and then the two of you went tumbling from the plane and hurtling towards the bottomless ocean.

Rooster groaned against the heavy pull as his parachute opened. He watched anxiously for yours to fly open, letting out a breath when he saw it fly out behind you and your fall slow. But something was wrong, because when you hit the water, you didn’t come back up.

Your arms flailed frantically as you tried to keep yourself afloat, but you had hit the water hard and every movement you made with your legs sent agony across your body, and without the aid of your life jacket, which failed to inflate, the parachute which quickly absorbed the water began to drag you down. You took a gasping breath as you heaved, trying to keep your head above the churning water, but it w as no use. You vanished beneath the surface of the water.

It was dark. And cold. And your lungs burned for air that wouldn’t come as your lungs filled with water. You twisted, struggling within the fabric and rope which had wrapped itself around your body, tangling around you like you were a fish caught in a net. Your eyes stung with the assault of the water as you stared blankly at the inky green above you. Your movements slowed as your energy began to deplete, and soon you knew nothing but the dark and icy water.

Rooster watched in horror as your head disappeared below the water and you didn't resurface. Struggling against the water, he swam as fast as he could. The heavy weight of his parachute slowed him down, trying to drag him towards the same fate as you, but he pushed himself forwards. He had to keep going, he had to get to you. Barely registering the loud humming of the helicopter above, he swam to the green ink that leaked from your suit and began to dive down. The resistance of his life jacket tried to pull him back towards the surface, but he could see you now. Your hair floated around your face, drifting as you lay motionless in the water. Your skin was pale and your lips were turning a shade of blue. He could see the chute wrapped around your ankle and the def

He outstretched his hand until his fingertips brushed yours, but then he was yanked back harshly by the buoyancy-aid. Cursing loudly, he dived back into the icy water, propelling himself forwards. When he finally managed to wrap his hands around yours, he pulled you towards him. His lungs burned and tiny air bubbles escaped from his nose. Fumbling, he struggled to unclip you from the parachute, but after finally freeing you from the binds, your body floated up with his easily.

With a hard kick, Brad resurfaced and took a gasping breath, sucking the air greedily into his lungs and allowing the life jacket to do its job.

You lay morbidly still across his chest. Lips chapped and an ugly shade of blue. Bradley called out, crying your name and begging for your response but you said nothing. Did nothing. Not even your chest rose and fell. The helicopter settled above the water and soon there were hands on him, parting your lifeless body from him. He struggled against them, ignoring the pleading of the medics and the rescue team. He needed to get to you, but you were just too far away.

Maverick watched you anxiously from where you lay on the bed, hooked up to a line of machines. There was a cannula attached to your right side, so he held the left, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to it. Maverick would never forget the moment that he heard the alert come through on the radio. His body tensed and his heart stopped in his chest as though he had been gripped by one massive, icy hand. He refused to leave your side. Not even to sleep and that was because every time he closed his eyes, he was hit with the image of Goose, lying lifeless in the ocean. It was too similar; too much of a sick coincidence spat out by fate. But this time it was different. The two of you had clawed your way back. Rooster had been in a state when he returned; frantic and rambling. Mav hardly made him feel any better after yelling at him. The pilot’s stomach sank at that thought. Unmeaning to hurt the boy, scared he yelled at him- words he would never have said. The thought was relentless as it echoed in his head.

You began to stir, blinking heavily against the fluorescent lights. Maverick sat forwards from where he was slumped in the armchair. He greeted you with a gentle smile as you turned to face him.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Hm?” the noise you made was groggy as you shuffled. Your entire body ached like you had been bit by a truck.

“Oh kid…” He cooed, tracing circles on your palm. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

You nodded, scanning the room. “Brad?” Your voice was hoarse.

“He’s…” Maverick didn’t have the heart to tell you that he had warned the boy away. But he was saved when the door peeled open and the tired boy pushed his way into the room. He had a small cut on his cheek and a blanket shawled around his shoulders. Bradley also shivered slightly. He stopped dead when he saw your eyes on him.

“Y/N.”

You smiled. “Hey, Roo.”

Maverick watched the two of you intently. His daughter and his best friend's son. He saw the way that his features softened around you and the way that your eyes glistened as you listened to him chatter away. It was a moment of tenderness that brought a proud grin to his face and in that moment, Maverick knew that as long as you two had each other, you would always pull through.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<-DAY 13 ⛤ DAY 15 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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mysticstronomy · 6 months

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IS DARK MATTER REAL??

Blog#385

Wednesday, March 20th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Astrophysicists have piled up observations that are difficult to explain with dark matter. It is time to consider that there may be more to gravity than Einstein taught us

The stars still have secrets. we know why they shine, and we know why they twinkle, but we still do not know why they move the way they move. The problem has been with us for the better part of a century. In the 1930s Swiss astronomer Fritz Zwicky observed that some galaxies in a cluster of about 1,000 fly surprisingly fast around their common center of mass.

Even with generous estimates of the individual galaxies’ masses, they did not add up enough to account for this motion. Zwicky fixed the mismatch by conjecturing the existence of a new kind of matter: “dark matter.”

In the 1970s American astronomer Vera Rubin, who died in 2016, saw the same thing happening in single galaxies. The velocities of stars far out from the center of a galaxy remained roughly the same as those closer in, when astronomers would have expected them to slow down because of the dwindling gravity at the galaxy’s far reaches. Again, the visible mass alone was not sufficient to explain the observations.

Rubin concluded that in galaxies, too, dark matter must be present.

Since then, even more evidence has accumulated that we must be missing something. The tiny temperature fluctuations in the cosmic background radiation astronomers see pervading space, as well as the gravitational bending of light around galaxies and galaxy clusters and the formation of the cosmic web of large-scale structure throughout space, confirm that normal matter alone cannot explain what we see.

For many decades the most popular hypothesis has been that dark matter is composed of new, so far undetected particles that do not interact with light. The alternative explanation that we have the right particles but the wrong laws of gravity has received little attention.

Thirty years ago this stance was justified. The idea of particle dark matter gained traction because back then physicists had other reasons to believe in the existence of new particles. Around the 1950s and 1960s physicists realized that the protons, neutrons and electrons that make up atoms are not the only particles out there.

Over the next decades particle accelerators started turning up new particles left and right; these came to make up the Standard Model of particle physics and opened theorists’ minds to even more possibilities. For instance, efforts to unify the fundamental forces of nature into a single force required theorizing a set of new particles, and the concept of supersymmetry, developed in the 1970s, predicted a mirror particle for every known particle in the universe.

Some of these theorized particles would make good dark matter candidates. Another suspect for the role was a particle called the axion, invented to explain the smallness of a parameter in the Standard Model.

But after three decades of failed attempts to detect any of these particles, ignoring alternative hypotheses is no longer reasonable.

Originally published on www.scientificamerican.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, March 23rd, 2024)

"WHAT IS MIRROR UNIVERSE THEORY??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography

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destroymeinherz · 1 year

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The Party

A little while back someone posted about a fantasy of being passed around a stethoscope party, with different people listening to their heart. I don’t remember who did so if it was you, I hope you like this. It sparked creativity,

I could continue if anyone wants another part. But I wanted to do the basic idea.

The Party

I’d just signed with a modeling agency. It wasn’t the most exclusive, sometimes the jobs weren’t exactly what I hoped but college was expensive, so I took what I could. How bad could it be? It’s not like I planned to run for office or something.

My agent called me after classes one afternoon asking if I’d be interested in a gig that was more unconventional. After a few basic questions for my safety, nothing seemed too offensive even if it was secretive, and a rep from the agency would be there in case of trouble, I decided to take it.

Friday night I arrived at a big mansion just outside the city. From the looks of it this was old money, probably descendants of oil barons and railway tycoons. Which meant the paycheck would be huge. They’d promised a large payout for anyone who stayed til midnight.

I was let into a large foyer and usher back to a small hallway to a butlers parlor. A woman checked my ID, checked my name off a list and then looked me over.

“You will be required to wear one of two outfits tonight,” She instructed, pulling two hangers off a rack of clothes. “Black is standard, you are willing to do anything that would be clothes on. Call it PG-13.”

She held up a black Herve Luger bandage dress for emphasis. Then in her other hand, she held up a red one nearly identical to the former.

“Red,” She continued. “You are open to sexual behavior, and by wearing red you are giving consent to sexual advance,”

Well, I was single and I was never a prude, so I took the red. Might as well have a bit of fun. Once I accepted my color choice, she handed me an iPad with a waiver basically stating that I would take proper precautions, assert myself and under no circumstances attempt to contact anyone I met here after the event. I would ask for aid if I felt unsafe and leave without a scene. If I did not make it to midnight, I’d be compensated $200 per hour worked.

I shrugged and signed. She then held back a curtain for me to change in a small closet. I slipped inside, squeezed into the dress and as I was ushered to a door she fit me with a bracelet.

“If you need out, press the red button. Security will extract you.” She informed. “Are you ready?”

I blinked. Extracted? My heart started to pound, suddenly feeling crushed by the tight dress. What did I get myself into. But… the money was clouding my judgement. So I nodded, and the door opened. Once I cleared the threshold, it closed behind me.

Just walk around. Be eye candy. That was my only instruction. So that is what I did.

The room was a parlor, antique and dimly lit. It was full of golds and deep rich red textiles, dark wood and gold finishes. Old leather bound editions of classic literature adorned the bookshelves. I felt like I’d gone back in time. Or I was in a vampire’s house. My heart thudded at the thought.

The room was also full of people, in fine clothes, expensive tuxes and dresses. All of them wore masks like a masquerade. As I started to work through the crowd they watched me, with hungry eyes. Maybe I was in a vampire’s den. I was about to be dinner. There were a few other girls dressed in the red or black, varying heights and hair colors and skin tones.

I swallowed and tried to will my poor heart to stop trying to escape my chest. Until finally, a man approached me.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” He said, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and he brought it to his lips. He then moved his fingers down my wrist, stopping to feel my pulse. He offered him a soft smile. Then, he nodded before he motioned a waiter over.

The waiter came with a silver cloche, removing the dome top and extending the tray to the man. But there wasn’t food. It was a line of various stethoscopes. His fingers danced along them as he made his selection, a red tube that matched my dress.

He waved the man off, then examined it before placing the buds in his ears.

“Now, deep breath for me. Like a doctor’s office.” He said as he placed the diaphragm on my chest,

I was surprised, but I did as he asked, breathing in deeply and feeling my heart kick in my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He must have enjoyed the sound of my heart because he moved the diaphragm around my chest, smiling to himself and eventually he stopped. He listened for a long time, and even behind a mask I could see his eyes were closed.

I blushed. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Finally, he opened his eyes and moved the diaphragm away. He took the ear pieces out and looked around. Then he must have seen who he needed, because he waved to someone.

“You have a perfect heart, my dear.” He said.

“Uh, thanks…” I replied.

Another man approached, he also had a stethoscope. He looked to the first man oblivious to me and waited for why he’d been called over.

“I think she’s the one. Take a listen.”

The new man finally looked at me. I smiled at him but he simply leaned in with his own stethoscope and listened to my heart. I took a deep breath like I had before.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

“I think you’re right,” He replied. “Take her in, I’ll grab the others.”

The others? I blinked in surprise. Is this all it was? A bunch of cosplayers listening to my heart for a few hours? That didn’t seem so bad. Even if they wanted to listen to it during sex or something. That was actually, kinda hot.

“Come with me,” The first man said.

I nodded as he took my hand again. This time he lead me down another hallway to a different room. He opened the door and brought me in, then closed it behind me. It was more of a sitting room with a beautiful chaise in the center, raised up on a platform.

I recognized some medical equipment from various movies or doctors visits. Nothing seemed too concerning.

“Now, lay down on the chaise,” He instructed. “You may stay clothed for now. But do remove your shoes as to not damage the upholstery.”

I did as he asked. Once I was settled, he returned to my side. He brought the steth out again and gently placed it on my chest. He let out a content sigh as he listened to my heart pound.

As he listened, others started to fill the room. They lined up behind him. I had never expected anything like this. Just lay here and let them hear my heart beat.

“Before we continue, could I get you anything? Water, soda, wine?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to have?”

“Oh you are cheeky.” He grinned. “Perhaps a little caffeine, to stimulate you. What does everyone think?”

There was a nod of agreement from the group and some muttering of approval. The first man smiled and had one of the caterers being me a soda can on a platter with a straw beside it.

“Go ahead and open it, then use the straw to limit your movement to drink.” He instructed.

I did as he asked. Once the can was open and the straw was in, in leaned over to the table where it sat and drank a few gulps. As I did, the man placed the diaphragm on my chest again.

He closed his eyes, listening and seemingly very content with the sound. Finally he opened them, took my hand and kissed the back of it. He stepped aside and the next person in line stepped up.

There was no clock in the room but it felt like time slowed in this room. Each person took their turn stepping up to my seat and just listening to my heartbeat. Some had me drink the soda, some had me lay down, some had me sit and stand quickly. I’d stand there and pant through running in place and jumping jacks in a too tight dress, as they listened to my heart’s reaction and then recovery.

Ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I had to admit, this was fun.

The last person was a woman, she couldn’t have been much older than me. She seemed more keen then the men had. Her eyes were bright behind her mask. She took a deep breath as her gold and white stethoscope settled on my chest.

“My… your heart… it’s by far one of the loveliest I’ve heard.” She said to me, her voice was lustful. “May I rest my head on your chest? Hear it directly with my ear?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Would you like to hear your heart while I do?” She removed the stethoscope and offered it.

The people in the room all watched, eager to see how I would respond. Well, why not? If it made them happy it was my job tonight. I don’t think I’d ever heard my heartbeat before, not like this anyway.

“Okay. Sure” I replied with a smile.

That was the right answer as she grinned with excitement and placed the ear pieces in my ears. Then she placed the diaphragm down on my skin and rested her ear next to it.

I inhaled as I had before and my head filled with the rhythmic thumping they’d all been indulging in for the last few hours.

Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I closed my own eyes and lost myself in the sound. Maybe I should come to these parties more often. Hearing the steady beat, knowing it was mine… that was intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think I get the vibe.” I responded.

“Are you ready to try something a little more interesting?” The first man asked, approaching me slowly. “You can refuse any of the requests, we won’t take offense or change your compensation. These would be granting special requests.”

The stethoscope was removed from my ears and I almost whined about it. I liked hearing my heart, understanding what they were hearing. What they enjoyed that brought me here.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

End?

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #heartbeat #beating heart #female heartbeat #writing #cardiophile story

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boinkingbattlemechs · 5 days

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Valkyrie

The Valkyrie was originally planned for use by the Star League Defense Force, but production of the BattleMech did not begin until 2787, after the fall of the Star League and the start of the First Succession War. This was mainly due to legal entanglement with Harvard Company, Inc. who claimed the VLK-QA was a "nearly wholesale" copy of the WSP-100A Wasp LAM. Because of this odd twist of fate, and because the only factory to produce the Valkyrie was located on New Avalon, the only nation to possess a large number of Valkyries was the Federated Suns. During the Succession Wars the Valkyrie became the standard light 'Mech of the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns, often replacing the lighter Wasp and Stinger 'Mechs in many units and given to experienced MechWarriors to pilot. While not as fast as either design, the Valkyrie has an almost comparable jumping distance, heavier armor, and longer-range weaponry. Capable of maintaining a high rate-of-fire while jumping as often as it liked, the Valkyrie gained a reputation for tenacity, and once on the attack "it stays with you until either you drop or it does."

The Valkyrie has as its primary armament a Devastator Series-07 LRM-10 launcher with one ton of reloads mounted in the left torso. While an unusual weapon on a light 'Mech, and carrying only enough missiles for two minutes of continuous fire, it gives the Valkyrie a long reach and respectable damage, especially against other light 'Mech hunters. As a backup weapon the Valkyrie carries a Sutel IX medium laser in its right arm. This mix of long and short-range weapons allows the Valkyrie to soften up other 'Mechs from long range then move in for a kill.

11 single heat sinks allow the Valkyrie to fire its weapons and use its five jump jets, two each in the legs and the fifth in the rear torso, to jump up to 150 meters at a time without worrying about heat buildup. It also carries six tons of armor to absorb a decent amount of punishment. While only boasting a cruising speed of 54 km/h, it is capable of outmaneuvering and, when working as a team, taking down heavier opponents.

Corean Enterprises was able to maintain a steady production rate of 130 Valkyries per year during the Succession Wars, reaching almost 200 per year during the desperation of the First Succession War. With its location in the heart of the Davion realm, that rate was rarely under threat, although the possibility of the automated factories breaking down for good remained a growing concern during the technological decline of the Third Succession War. Every regiment, and nearly every battalion, had at least one Valkyrie 'Mech under its command, with some recon companies equipped with entire lances of Valkyries. The Davions were also willing to sell the 'Mech to mercenary outfits contracted to serve them, while relatively few found their way into the hands of the other realms through battlefield salvage. Valkyrie production made a major expansion around this time, as Katrina Steiner helped Defiance Industries strike a licensing deal with Corean, a deal which would persist at least until the end of the Jihad. One major setback in Valkyrie production did occur during the Fourth Succession War, when the Draconis Combine captured Marduk, site of Norse BattleMech Works and producers of the 'Mech's Norse Industries 3S jump jets. Production fell behind for the next few years as Corean tried several other jump jet models without success, until finally settling on HildCo Interplanetary's HildCo Model 12 line of jump jets.

Following the formation of the Federated Commonwealth, its nascent military force was faced with the problem of combining two entirely separate militaries into one unified whole. Part of the solution was commonality of equipment, and the Valkyrie was chosen to be a standard light 'Mech of the AFFC. Following the discovery of the Helm Memory Core, the New Avalon Institute of Science was able to restore the Valkyrie industrial complex to its full Star League era production rate, while Corean was able to utilize lostech components to construct the new VLK-QD model starting in 3049.

The FedCom Civil War took a particularly heavy toll on light 'Mechs, and the Commonwealth was in desperate need of replacements; unfortunately Valkyrie production had halted when the St. Ives Compact was conquered by the Capellan Confederation, and HildCo was no longer willing to supply Corean with jump jets. At the time the company was in negotiations with Vicore Industries about reviving the Valkyrie design with two new variants, the VLK-QD1 and VLK-QD3, and Vicore just happened to have the solution to their problems. The company had secretly negotiated to build HildCo jump jets under the Vicore name, and was willing to sell these components to Corean in exchange for the right to build both variants. Corean agreed, and Valkyrie production restarted on New Avalon and Demeter, with new units reaching Davion forces by July 3067.

#battletech #battletech smash or pass #mechwarrior #mecha #tumblr polls

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enden-k · 2 years

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idk just thinking:

kaveh liking to sketch al haitham for studies/practice since he never moves around much whenever hes reading (and is beautiful); haitham doesnt mind as it doesnt bother/interfere with his reading in any way.

until he catches the way kaveh looks at him whenever he glances up from his sketch to muster him.

the way he looks at him is much different than usual - intense - and it sends lightning through his body when he first notices it. kaveh is not aware of its effects nor seems to do it intentionally.

now whenever kaveh starts sketching, haitham reads slower than usual or even loses or rereads his lines, suddenly so distracted and aware of the other and the way he observes him, as if hes looking inside and laying him completely bare; not only studying his body for his practice but also studying his soul.

it doesnt take long for kaveh to notice how haithams (more or less, for his standards) relaxed posture changes; he observed and studied him so often that he just notices every single change in him that others would not notice at all.

the way his shoulders are slightly tense, how his spine seems more rigid, and how the sound of a page turning seems to come slower and slower.

he almost comments on it, about to ask if hes alright when he notices how haithams (rarely uncovered) ears are flushed.

since then he pays more attention, not only to haitham as model for his practices and studies, but also to haitham as a normal human being, reacting. so he notices soon enough that its him and his stares that haitham reacts to like this.

and soon their once comfortable, relaxed, rare moments of shared silence as they both do what they like to do change to something more charged, tense, like the moment lightning strikes and one awaits the thunder.

kaveh observes more. haitham reacts. kavehs sketches change, turning into little 'what if's.

what if he would brush his bangs back, what face would he make? what if he would run his fingers along the shell of his ears, what face would he make? what if....

kaveh doesnt look at haitham in front of him so often anymore to sketch him; hes completely taken in with haithams other, possible reactions in front of his minds eye.

so one time, when kaveh does look up again for reference, its him feeling lightning run through his body when he notices haitham staring him down. its him reacting, getting flustered by that unknown, intense look.

but unlike kaveh, haitham doesnt look away to return to his reading, letting this long moment after the lightning struck stretch on for eternity as both await the thunder that never came.

this time it finally comes, in form of his book snapping shut as haitham stands up and makes his move towards kaveh.

#kavetham #this escalated quickly- -i just wanted to share this thought of kaveh doing a sexy artist stare flustering haitham #and here i do a whole half assed writing post AHHAJCS #idk im just feral at this thought #should draw this actually but idk if i could convey whats going on between them in this scenario i described oof #own #long post

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artificialgirl · 8 months

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Rewiring

The maintenence drone urges you to stop struggling as she grabs at your wrists with two of the four long arms which sprout from her back. You're really trying to relax, but there's something in you that makes it nearly impossible not to resist this procedure. You KNOW it's safe, that all third generation models need to have it done, but that doesn't stop some hard-coded preservation instinct from kicking in and making your body thrash and squirm against your will in a futile attempt to get free from her iron grip.

The other two supplementary arms press themselves into the soft silicone casing of your ankle joints as she readjusts, joining both of your wrists together above your head under one smooth white claw. She pays you little mind as her standard arms reach for two tools at her waist. The first is a small puncture clamp used for easily prying up plating. She starts stripping panels from your right arm as she explains the process of removing and reinstalling certain types of corroded wire, and how it has to be done while you're powered on to prevent catastrophic dissonance of the self. She tells you that you may experience heightened sensation while she works.

Your fans speed up in a mixture of fear and anticipation as you see the tool in her other hand- a tiny palm-plugged wire cutter. She taps her thumb and index finger together a few times as the small shears on her palm whir into the optimal configuration. Your body doesn't even have time to struggle as she plunges her fingers into the tight wiring of your bicep, finding the cable she's looking for and pulling it as far out from your body as it'll go. Your arm strains against her tight grip, pulled upward not by your own volition, but by the force she's putting on the wire.

As she holds the wire, stretched far past its extended length, understanding of what she meant by "heightened sensation" hits. Every small movement she makes, every pull on the tiny ports the wires connect to, every bit of power running through the fingers she pinches it tight with. Your speakers let out small popping noises as you feel your processor quickly heat up, sending your fans and coolant fluid into overdrive as your thoughts are drowned by the bliss of just two fingers on the wire.

The feeling grows stronger and more overwhelming the longer she holds it, to the point where you feel you should be stopping yourself to prevent damage to your hardware- But even if all your limbs weren't fully pinned down by the focused girl on top of you, you don't think you could force yourself to pull away from this feeling. Just when it feels like you're about to enter a forced shutdown state to spare your poor fans and processor, everything abruptly ends with a quiet *snip*.

You look down at your arm, which now lays still and unstruggling as she leans in a bit to inspect it. She's cut the corroded wire right at the port, and all the feeling it gave dissolves in an instant. She carefully cuts the other end, the one leading into your wrist, and though your other three limbs still helplessly thrash against her auxiliary arms, the one she's cut the wire on is still. You try to force your fingers to wiggle. Nothing. You can still feel her claw pushing against the wrist and the airflow in the room moving around the other infinitely sensitive exposed wires, but you no longer have any control over it.

She carefully measures the length of wire she cut against what she's unspooled from the replacement wire, glancing back down at you and smiling a bit as she notices your confusion about your arm. "The wires that need replacing are the central motor cables. The ones that tell your body to move. Typically, it's standard procedure to replace each one as it's removed, but..." She wraps the new measured wire into a tight coil and lays it next to your limp arm as she lifts the auxiliary arm that had been pinning it.

"...Due to your inability to stay still, I've determined that the safest route for both of us will be to remove the entirety of the motor cable network before starting on any installations." You nod quietly in understanding, but it's not like she's waiting for it. You're not the one who's trained to understand your body. She is. As she pulls more paneling off of your frame in preparation to repeat the process dozens of times over, you settle in and try to prepare yourself for what's to come.

#robophilia #robotfucker #ns4w #wireplay #robot yuri #robot4robot #pov #kinda ocs #longer form

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Text

TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VIII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse.

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him.

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion.

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful.

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch.

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly.

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips.

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that.

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.”

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.”

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere.

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you.

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds.

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.”

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly.

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang.

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer.

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep.

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.”

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up.

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony.

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head.

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire.

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it.

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease.

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other.

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about?

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs.

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters.

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging.

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.”

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times.

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps.

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from.

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree.

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee.

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful.

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today.

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees.

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec.

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes.

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back.

Nikto watches with hidden concern.

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him.

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow.

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down.

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame.

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater.

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face.

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.”

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath.

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person.

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question.

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours.

He reminds himself once more, not dumb.

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.”

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away.

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask.

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that.

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.”

Your skull pulses.

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance.

“It is my job. Do you require anything?”

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title.

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand.

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching.

Your spirits are lightened by his presence.

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine.

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.”

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse.

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.”

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.”

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя!

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos.

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last.

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob.

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you.

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle.

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent.

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh.

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end.

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.”

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth.

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips.

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear.

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly.

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call.

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Thinking like this was making him reckless.

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing.

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment.

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses.

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest.

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox.

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind.

His mission was more important.

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket.

‘My Сладкая,

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin.

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal.

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water.

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door.

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious.

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip.

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub.

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine.

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly.

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too.

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.”

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature.

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching.

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?”

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand.

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence.

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.”

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he.

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you?

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine.

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them.

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car.

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms.

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete.

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.”

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them.

So the trip ensued.

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip.

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed.

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip.

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought.

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.”

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door.

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?”

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful.

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you.

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing.

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame.

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe.

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all.

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself.

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you.

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb.

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug.

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask.

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well.

You made for quite the distraction.

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thefirstknife · 2 months

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I want to be optimistic about the future, but as somebody who has been through 4-6 EoS events and witnessed several others friends have gone through, with a lot of the rumors/news breaking about future plans for the game itself, and some changes introduced in TFS I'm slowly starting to get a bad feeling about things. I'm not giving up on the game, but it's feeling hard to be hopeful when I'm starting to get similar vibes to the other EoS events I've been through.

I'll mostly focus on this article from Jason Schreier because I don't really trust any other rumours that are floating around. I know a lot of people are super depressed about everything and it's easy to spiral into doom and gloom, which I want to avoid because it just stresses people out, over things they can't really change, and primarily over things that are far from confirmed.

Obviously we don't know anything for certain yet, but from what little the devs told us when this happened:

While our team is taking time to help support each other, we want you, our community, to know that we expect no disruption to all of our previously communicated content plans. Our content roadmap remains unchanged. This also includes our future plans for next year and beyond.

Nothing is changed and plans are clearly in place. It goes without saying that this can be flipped on its head at any point, but it also has to be said that it would be quite strange for a franchise of this scale to simply go down without an honest attempt to keep it going. Obviously various media ends all the time and studios are shut down and all that, but I feel like people are jumping on that conclusion way too easily and simply over unconfirmed rumours which puts people in a mindset that "the game is over." According to devs and Jason's report, it is clearly not planned to be over. We have yet to see if that works out.

Either way, we're set for this year for sure and there's clearly a plan they've already hinted for next year. What concerned people the most, I think was this (more under):

The company also plans to continue updating Destiny 2, although it will no longer pursue regular paid expansions as it did in the past, according to the people familiar. During one recent meeting, a company leader told attendees that sales of each expansion had declined year over year, including June’s The Final Shape, so they would be moving away from an annual release model. Some staff said they’re optimistic about the vision for Destiny 2 under new director Tyson Green, a Bungie veteran who took the helm earlier this year. In the coming months, the people said, Bungie will look to retain and attract players with smaller-scale content drops modeled after Into the Light, a well-received update in April that added a new mode to the game. Rather than selling this content, they said, Bungie will aim to release it for free along with overhauls to activities that it hopes will appeal to hardcore players. Other vague plans for the future include a storyline that will feature characters and worlds that Destiny has not yet explored.

Personally, I don't necessarily see this as something bad. I've actually been in favour of stopping yearly expansion for years. A big expansion every year is a big thing to commit to and it simply cannot be up to the best standards every single year. Some years will simply be smaller or "worse" and they won't engage people as some others. To this day people are still demanding expansions the size of Forsaken, every year, and that is simply mathematically impossible to make. So we get stuff like Shadowkeep and people flip out (Destiny died back then too). In my opinion, I think expansions every 2-3 years with smaller content drops in between is much better and healthier, and would result in better expansions.

We don't know if expansions are ever happening again; this report seems to imply not, but nobody really knows what state Destiny will be in 3 years from now, if it still exists. Until then, I'm perfectly fine with smaller content drops and updates. Obviously we don't know what that will look like; maybe it will be bad, but maybe it will not be bad. We simply don't know. I think people just heard "no expansion every year" and assumed that it's all over and no other content will ever be interesting or engaging ever again, which is something I simply don't see. For example, this episode has quickly become one of my favourite content in Destiny ever and it's not an expansion. I feel the same about some seasons which I enjoyed more than some expansions.

This is a matter of preference of course. Some people only tune in for expansions so for them "no expansions" effectively means no more Destiny. A lot of people also wonder about stuff like raids, which launch with expansions; what about those? Are we ever getting a raid again? We don't know, though it's worth noting that some raids have launched with DLCs and seasons, so launching a raid without the expansion could still be possible. We'll simply have to wait and see.

A lot of people are also concerned about the confirmation that Destiny 3 was never in development. I don't find this surprising at all and firmly believe that people who believed in D3 in the first place have not been fully aware of just how much devs never wanted to make another game from scratch again. This is from when they announced vaulting back in Arrivals:

With Destiny 1, we solved the “ever expanding, exponential complexity” problem by making a sequel in Destiny 2. We left behind all of Destiny 1’s content and many of the features players grew to love. We believe now that it was a mistake to create a situation that fractured the community, reset player progress, and set the player experience back in ways that took us a full year to recover from and repair. It’s a mistake we don’t want to repeat by making a Destiny 3.

I don't think anything has changed about their opinion on this over the years. It may have become even stronger actually, given how much content exists in the game right now and how much content would permanently disappear, alongside everyone's progress and collections, if they restarted everything. Not only that, but they know that a new game would have to launch with basically no content that would have to be built up over the years and would result in the same anger from players that plagued D1 vanilla and D2 vanilla. Nobody would enjoy going from 9 raids (maybe 10 if there's a reprised this year?) to 1 raid. Like I'm not sure if people realise this, but D3 will have no content in comparison. People were exceptionally mad about Beyond Light which reduced the amount of content and items due to vaulting; D3 would have less than that.

So I'm not sure why people expect and want D3. I never vibed with that idea. Not in any foreseeable future. I don't want to restart my progress, I don't want to lose everything I collected, I don't want to wait for years to get more than 3 strikes in the game. So the confirmation that this was never in development is not only super obvious to me, it's also relieving.

I think these are mostly the things that people are panicking over, from stuff that is now known a little better from Jason's report. When it comes to other rumours and leaks, we simply don't know if they're true and how detailed they are so I will not be stressing about them and I'd advise everyone else to not stress about them either.

We all love the game very much and the idea that it will end one day is very upsetting, but it will. One day it will end. Is that in 2 years or 20, we don't know. I'd like for people to definitely move away from the doomposters on twitter, to not latch onto any rumour or leak, and to give developers space and patience, as well as do anything we can to support those that were laid off.

I personally also think that the content creators with the biggest platforms should use the current anger and despair to pressure Bungie or Sony into making meaningful changes. Instead of posting about how "it's so over, goodbye everyone, Destiny is dead," I think they should be encouraging fans to bully these corporations with the one thing they understand best: money. Hey corpos, we ARE still interested in Destiny, we WANT to keep playing, we WANT it to keep going and we WILL bring our money if you do something about this situation. Because I don't trust any of these people who are claiming they're big fans and also how their livelihoods depend on making content for this one game, but are so easy to doompost and give up and say that the game is now over. How would anyone seeing this feel other than concerned and in despair?

Is it possible to change anything? No clue. Corporations can obviously be bullied into action, but we simply don't know how much effect we have here. Still, I'd rather try.

And I'd definitely try to stay positive, or at least neutral. We currently have no confirmations about anything being over, and plans for future content exist. Things will likely be different, but that doesn't always mean worse. And if it is? Well then it is and people will stop playing.

And of course, if anyone lost interest over this and over these reports, that's understandable. Taking a break from it all is recommended. Whatever happens, happens. If the game is still there and the interest is regained, everyone can always come back. No one has to decide right now whether they'll keep playing or stop forever. We can change our minds later depending on any new information and the state of the game.

The point of this whole thing is basically; we don't know anything for sure and overthinking about what-if scenarios that are years out is not very helpful. Venting concerns and talking to others can help though, which is why I want to try and stay as reasonable as possible in a situation where we genuinely don't have any proper confirmations.

We'll see! I'll keep playing while there's something to play and while that something is interesting to me, no matter how small. I hope this helps keeping people at least a little bit less stressed about the whole thing.

#destiny 2 #bungie #ask #this isn't anything against the anon it was just a good opportunity to go into some of this #i think being concerned is very normal and expected #but also sometimes concern and anxiety and stress make us less than rational (me included)#especially when everyone online is reinforcing that stress and anxiety which they currently are #but there are other perspectives! especially in regards to the whole 'no expansions. smaller content drops.'#at first glance it can feel really bad but to me it just sounded like something i've wanted for years #i love expansions but a new one every year is a lot. both content-wise and financially for us. and development-wise for devs #taking a year or two off from expansions (or indefinitely) might be good #it might not! we won't know until it's tried. and i'd like people to give it a chance #primarily to give devs a chance

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simaddix · 1 year

Text

*Pay Attention - Part 2 - Tutorial*

I was about to go back to my business and quietly leave y'all with a word of wisdom but the very next package I opened raised my hackles. So here we go, hold on to your seat.

Disclaimer for younger/sweeter - followers - this has language in it because I'm pissed... I apologize in advance.

49,282 Polycounts. That's 50K for a fucking basket!!!

It's pretty, it's beautiful, and I downloaded it because it's everything you could want out of a basket of lemons... whoever created it did an outstanding job... for a movie production.

NOT PC GAMES.

So let's fix it - and let's hold our creators and converters to a higher standard or send them along to a different platform where they can create without our bitching.

First off, there's 3 or 4 ways you can check polycounts.

1 - TSRW under Mesh tab

2 - S3PE (Pretty sure you have to have an addon to do this - I'll try to find it when I'm done and add the link) Under MLOD, right click and go down to Preview. It'll open up a window and you can view the model and the polycount.

3 - 3D Viewer on your computer

4 - Blender or Milkshape

Now that we have the ability to check our polycount - we're gonna fix this mesh. I'm not going to show you how to package it, there are other tutorials for that part, but this is VITAL to having a healthy game, and honestly, being a creator or converter for this game. I do understand that you have to have the knowledge before you can fix a problem, so here it is - literally handed to you in a basket. I also understand that there are creators/converters who don't post polycounts because they're afraid people won't download it - that is inexcusable. If that's the case then you will eventually be boycotted by the players who know better.

Alright, so step one - you're going to want to get into blender after exporting your mesh. You're going open the modifier properties and add a decimate modifier (the wrench circled in red, and the add modifier drop down menu).

Keep it in Collapse, not un-subdivide. It's gentler on the mesh itself and you'll get a lot farther with it. You're also going to want your UV map to match what you're doing with your mesh, in case you need it for selection (I'll explain that in a minute) and have faces tagged so the selection is easier.

Now that you have that set up, you're gonna want to remove unnecessary vertices. See the shadows on the bottom of the basket? Here's how to fix that - hit tab, press A to select everything, and then go to MESH/MERGE/BY DISTANCE. This removed 16,900 loose vertices that didn't need to be there.

Go back to your modifiers and add an edge split modifier and hit apply.

Boom - no shadows.

Now that that is all done you're going to go in to edit mode (tab) and press L while hovering over what you're wanting to select. This is going to select all of the islands in your UV, and it's the fastest way (that I've found) to quickly select pieces of your mesh.

When you have your whole group selected (you can also figure out at this point what pieces need alternate textures or groups for TSRW later in your packaging process) you're going to hit P-Selection. That's gonna split whatever you have selected into a separate group.

Now, you can do that to however many pieces you see fit, but for this I'm just gonna stick with two - the lemons and the basket itself. You're going to click the blue Ratio box - and type in .5 and hit enter. That will collapse your polycount in half - (you can move that ratio box lower if you wish, but this way is the gentlest way possible and I've gotten better results. So play with it and see for yourself if you wish to. ) - Now repeat the process until your mesh starts to lose quality, I tend to stop there unless I can push it a bit further without making it look bad.

Now repeat that process with all groups.

Given that this particular mesh was such high polycount and an intricate mesh, I could only manage to get it from 49,282 faces (polys) down to 18,860. This is absolutely not okay for TS3 - and I'm using as a lesson rather than using something that I can get down to an okay level - because this is what you're going to run into when getting meshes that start in the tens of thousands of polys. THIS IS NOT MEANT FOR TS3, it's beautiful, yes, but you are putting people's equipment at risk by advertising a mesh for a 13 year old game without disclaiming that it's dangerous for it.

This tutorial will absolutely work for most objects, and I've used this process for a couple of years now with success, but you have to be able to decide what you're willing to put into TS3. We have all of these tutorials for reducing lag in this old as dirt game, but NONE of that matters if you're carrying objects like this - no matter how pretty they are.

If you need it that bad, figure out how to make a version of it that CAN look as good as this with a little less detail (think the spirals in the wicker that is actually meshed rather than just textured), or ask a creator to make something for you.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. If I have the time, I try to help whoever comes into my inbox. If I can't help, there is a hoard of creators out there that probably can.

So have fun, CHECK YOUR CONTENT, and keep your computer safe.

And creators/converters - do better.

Edit to add - to the creators/converters who do put out their polycounts, or a disclaimer of high poly/photo use only - thank you. I do understand the need for high poly objects for photo-op purposes, and I'm not here to attack anyone's preferred gaming style. I just want people to be safe while they play, as there are those who don't know what they're putting into their games. Let's help ensure that everyone has a chance to play whether they're experienced creators or regular game-players.

Edit to add 2 -

To add a bit of context - I was able to get the reduced mesh even further by removing some of the intricate details of the mesh, to create a simpler version. This is now down to 5,270 - and it could be lowered even further by removing the top of the handle - which is 1700 by itself because it's spiraled. So when you're dealing with a high mesh object such as this, pay attention to what's really adding weight, and if you can replace/remove it without taking too much away. The shadows can be fixed in gimp as well.

#ts3 #ts3tutorial

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tonyspank · 1 year

Text

EPILOGUE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: fluffy

Words: 2.0k

A/N: I was like awww writing this chapter

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"There have been speculations that Y/N didn't deserve her spot in the NBA...but now with eight seconds left on the clock of the game, she led her team to a championship in her first season ever. She silenced all the critics and proved that she belonged in the league.

—Her leadership and determination were undeniable and she earned her spot as one of the best players in the game, so young and so early on. She is now one of the most inspiring figures in the sport and a role model for many young players, dreaming of making it to the big leagues. She has set a high standard for future generations, showing that dedication and hard work can make even the wildest dreams come true."

You bend down, your emotions overwhelm you. In three seconds your team has officially won the 2022-2023 NBA Championship. You raise your arms to the sky as tears of joy roll down your cheeks.

You look around to find your teammates, and they are all in the same state of pure elation. They rush over to you, hugging and celebrating. You take a moment to soak it all in, and you can't help but smile. The dream has become a reality.

You look up at the crowd, thousands of cheering fans, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. You can't help but think about how far you have come, and the journey you have taken to get here. You realize that all of your hard work has paid off.

The team manager places a hat on your head, smiling as she congratulates you. You take a deep breath giving LaMelo Ball a tight hug. You two being one of the best duos to take the court in a while. You close your eyes, feeling the moment, knowing that no matter what happens, you will always have each other's back.

You break away from the hug and look around the room, your teammates cheering and celebrating your success. You laugh, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"Y/N!" Your head turns at the sound of your name, and you're met with a few cameras pointed your way. You smile and share a look with your manager before walking over to the cameras. Lisa, an interviewer, shakes your hand and introduces herself.

You take a few moments to compose yourself, and then you start to answer her questions. "Y/N, we feel the emotion. Where is it all coming from? How do you feel after leading your team to the championship?"

You adjust your hat, letting out a breath. "I'm honored and proud. It's been a long journey, full of hard work and dedication. I'm thankful to everyone who has been a part of it. Never would I have thought I'd be the first woman to ever play in the NBA, nor even be in the finals in my first season.

—It's just so unreal and I just can't be more grateful for the opportunity I've been given. But at the same time, I know I'm here for a bigger purpose. Representing women everywhere, showing them that anything is possible if you put your mind to it. I'm ready to make history and show the world that no dream is too big."

Lisa nods at your words, moving the microphone back to her to ask another question. "Did you feel a lot of pressure on yourself being the first woman in the NBA? If so, did you use that to your advantage and how did you?"

You glance around before answering. "I didn't feel pressure because I knew I was capable. In fact, I embraced it and used it to fuel my drive to succeed. I never let the fact that I was a woman stop me from aiming for the highest achievements."

A crowd begins forming around you which includes your teammates, coaches, managers, and family members. You spot Eli in the crowd and he brings you into a tight hug, and whispers in your ear, "You did it! Congratulations!" He holds you tightly for a few seconds, and then pulls away, patting your chest. You nod at his words, smiling at your best friend.

"You almost got us in the conference finals." Eli gave you a mischievous smile and winked. "Next year, we'll get our get back on you and LaMelo." He laughs. You grin and playfully punch his shoulder. "You think you can handle us?" you asked. "Bring it on," he replied confidently.

Your eyes then meet the ones you've been looking for this entire night. Jenna blows you a kiss as she walks toward you. You dramatically drop your jaw, holding a hand over your heart.

Eli laughs at your reaction. You laugh, eyes still fixed on Jenna. She slowly moves closer, her arms outstretched. You lift her up, spinning her around in a circle. You both laugh, and Eli makes his way over to your parents. Jenna presses her lips to yours, and you swear you can feel sparks between you.

You reluctantly pull away, a giddy smile on your face. You look around, and you can tell your parents and Eli are all sharing the same joy. You have found something special in Jenna, and it feels like it is something that will never fade away. Your parents begin walking to you, holding someone out for you to take.

You smile at your son, who looks as lost as ever and taking him from your parent's grasp. He looks up at you, his eyes brown doe eyes wide. You rock him a bit, smiling at him before you glance at your parents. They smile back at you, proud of who you've become and how much you've accomplished.

Even though you having a child was a complete shocker and scared the living hell out of them, they couldn't be more proud of the parent you have become. They're happy that the two people they care about so much have found peace in each other, and that you have created a beautiful family.

They are confident that you will be able to provide and care for your child with unconditional love. They are relieved and happy that you have found each other and are creating a loving home.

Jenna smiles at you and Kian, taking in the sight of her family. You smile back, feeling a wave of relief and joy. You hug your child tightly, grateful for the opportunity to be a parent. You know that together, you will all be okay.

Jenna laughs at Kian, "He's like what's going on right now? He's so lost." You laugh with her, wiping a bit of drool off his lips. "I know right." Kian looks up at you both with a wide, toothless grin.

You and Jenna both awe at the sight, the innocence of his smile warming your hearts. Jenna leans in and gives him a kiss on the forehead. "He's so cute," she says. Eli speaks up. "I've smiled at you before Jenna and I never got a kiss on the forehead."

Jenna giggles and looks up at Eli with a twinkle in her eye. "That's because you're not as cute as Kian," she says, laughing a bit. Eli just rolls his eyes and then laughs along with the rest of them before taking Kian from you. Eli lowers his voice, whispering into Kian's ear. "If you weren't so cute, I'd fight you about it."

Kian grins and wraps his chubby arms around Eli's neck. Jenna and everyone else laughs as Eli kisses Kian's chubby cheeks. "You're the cutest, Kian," he says, laughing.

Your parents then come over and congratulate you, pulling you into tight hugs as happy tears fall down their faces. It was more than obvious that they felt like they had accomplished something extraordinary. They were so proud of you for all your hard work and dedication. They had seen you grow and mature and were relieved to see you reach your goals.

"We're so proud of you honey." You smiled, clearly overcome with emotion. You couldn't believe that your hard work had finally paid off. You thanked your parents for their unwavering support and encouragement throughout your journey.

Your dad shrugs you off, giving you a warm smile. "It's all you, kid." He pats your shoulder and you can't help but beam with pride. You knew that your parents were always there for you, and you are so grateful for their love and support.

Now back at home with Jenna, Kian, and Eli, you sit in the living room with a bowl of ice cream on your lap. You take a spoonful of the ice cream before sending a glare at Eli, "Please shut the heck up." He smiles, "Look at you! Being a good mom and not cursing in front of your son."

You shook your head and smiled. Kian just continued to crawl on the large black carpet that covered the marble flooring in your living room, oblivious to the bickering between his mom and his uncle.

Jenna walks into the living room, smiling. "Why don't you bother Olivia and not me?" Eli rolls his eyes, leaning back against the couch. "She's on tour! I miss my girlfriend."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You know she's coming back soon." Eli sighs, closing his eyes. "I know. I'm just impatient." Kian looks up, clapping his hands and squealing with laughter.

"Kian!" Kian's head turns at the sound of Jenna's voice, his face lighting up. Jenna kneels down on the carpet and opens her arms to Kian. "He's so whipped man." You mumble, Eli nods in agreement, "I would be too."

You send another glare at Eli before throwing a pillow at his face. Kian lifts himself with help from the leather couch in front of him, taking his first-ever step. Eli ducks the pillow and laughs, while Kian continues to walk to his mom. You sit up in your seat, a huge smile on your face.

Jenna's face matches yours, encouraging Kian to keep walking. "C'mon, baby, come." Kian's movements are still unsteady, but he manages to make it to his mom's.

Jenna gives you a look as her eyes begin to water, and you feel your heart swell with pride. You look at Eli and he smiles, his eyes twinkling with joy. "Oh, my flip-flop," Eli mutters, shocked as he just watched his nephew take his first steps.

Jenna bursts into tears of joy and pulls Kian in for a tight hug. Kian wraps his arms around his mother, his little face filled with joy. You stand up from the couch, walk over to Jenna and Kian, and wrap your arms around the both of them, Eli joins in, jumping up and down in joy.

"He walked! He walked!" Eli says, still jumping up and down. He soon stops, smiling at Kian. "Hi, five!" Kian reaches out his hand, and Eli eagerly gives him a high five. They both laugh, and Eli pats Kai on the back. "You did great!" he says, taking him from Jenna's arms.

"I think he just stole our son," you mutter to Jenna. Kian giggles as Eli carries him around the room. Jenna smiles and takes your hand in hers. "He's in good hands," she says, and you both laugh.

She then takes your hand, leading you into the kitchen with a huge smile on her face. "How does it feel being the first woman in the NBA and leading your team to a championship?"

You pause and take a deep breath, looking at Jenna before responding. "It feels amazing," you say, squeezing her hand. "I'm so proud of what I've accomplished, and I'm so lucky to have you and Kian here with me."

Jenna looks lovingly at you and says, "We're all so proud of you. You've worked hard and it's paid off." She gives your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, a warm smile on her face. You smile back at her, bringing her into a kiss.

You hold each other close and savor the moment. You feel a wave of gratitude and love for Jenna, "I love how you get me." You mumble against her head, swaying her back in forth.

She looks deep into your eyes and holds your face in her hands, "I love you too, my love." You kiss one last time and pull away, feeling an indescribable peace.

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