#its a whole foot helo????

[pheeefly]

i never knew just how much i needed Tall And Scared & Short And Badass duo in my life before dylan and kaitlyn ngl

#the quarry #kaitlyn ka #dylan lenivy #they're besties your honour #mlm & wlw solidarity (with occasional hostility) even #and like can we talk about kaitlyn being 5'1 while dylan is 6'1 #its a whole foot helo???? #i love this??? so much???

[sabraeal]

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Requested and written for @vfordii’s birthday which was...back in December. So...not quite six months late, but at least I had a good excuse XD I ended up writing a first draft before my hospital stay, and then had an EVEN BETTER IDEA while I was convalescing and then had to write a whole new “first” draft, which was at least supposed to cover some of the other draft and...THINGS GOT OUT OF HAND.

“Why, Kiki Seiran.” The drawl alone turns her veins to to ice water; it’s only the strength of her spine and the grit of her teeth that stems a shiver. Or a right hook; Kiki’s always been a bit mixed up with her fight-or-flight. It’s what makes a good ranger. “As I live and breathe.”

She’s tempted not to give him the satisfaction of being noticed-- he doesn’t deserve hers after the stunt he pulled-- but he’s perverse enough to find that sort of behavior encouraging, as if getting under a woman’s skin was some prelude to foreplay.

“Hisame Luigis.” Her teeth chomp down on the last syllable, strangling the hiss she wants to make it. A snake like him deserves to be greeted in kind, after all. “I wouldn’t expect to see you here.”

Not after the last time, she doesn’t say, because despite her personal feelings, her father didn’t raise her to start a fight-- just finish them. Which she already had, sending Hisame scurrying out of the shatterdome with his tail between his legs.

(Must be hard for him to sit in that helo, Mitsuhide rumbles, standing close as they watch it take off, sound muted by the thickness of the windows. She spared him a raised brow, and he grinned. The way his ass must be smarting.

He gets a laugh out of her. She hadn’t thought it possible, right then.

Spurned by both the drift and you, he clucks, shaking his head. He’ll need medical to give him an ointment or something.

She’d been embarrassed by the whole thing, by being made a woman instead of a ranger in front of all her colleagues, years more experienced than she, and she’d thought she’d never recover, never get over the humiliation, but--

Well, she’s never heard her partner be uncharitable before. Might as well enjoy it. Maybe they can give him something to get his head out of his ass too.

Nah. Mitsuhide turns back to the window, eyes fixed to where the helo hovers in the skyline. I think that’s a chronic condition.

Kiki coughs on a laugh. The foot in his mouth certainly is.)

The line in front of them shudders, then trudges forward, and Kiki braces herself. His personality might be as thrilling as the scum on the dome’s flight deck, but he’s a ranger, just like her, plucked from a PPDC family whose illustrious history is only outstripped by her own and maybe the Wisteria’s. She’ll have to face him-- quite literally-- at some point, and it might as well be now.

Besides, it’s been five years. People change. Hisame may not be his father, nor his brother, but he could at least be tolerable now.

She dares a glance behind her, and it’s the same infuriatingly handsome face that smirks back at her, only this time he fills out his flight suit better. He might be less boyish around the edges, but it looks like insufferable douche isn’t a stain that comes out in the wash.

White teeth flash at her from between smirking lips. “I was invited.”

She somehow manages not to balk, not to say, I didn’t realize we were scraping the barrel for the dregs.

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here either,” he admits, insinuating his tray beside hers on the rail. “In the mess, I mean. I would have though General Seiran’s daughter would merit better fare than the grunts.”

The rim of her tray wobbles beneath her grip. These people would die for him, die with him, and he calls them grunts.

“What can I say,” she says, turning to him with a smile drawn thin, plate outstretched for dinner, “I can’t resist some good old shit on a shingle.”

She has the distinct pleasure of watching the color leave his smug little face as a healthy heaping of the caf’s beef stroganoff plops down on her plate. If only he hadn’t been so eager to dog her heels, he might have noticed just which line he got in.

“Yum yum,” she adds, because she’s never been a woman to shy from twisting the knife. “My favorite.”

“Ah, of course,” he manages faintly, handing over his own plate. “You have always struck me as a woman of...simple pleasures.”

“Simple pleasures,” she agrees, “and unmovable opinions. Enjoy your time in the dome, Luigis.”

She doesn’t add, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out. He’s a smart boy-- he knows how to read between the lines.

“I don’t know how you eat that.” Zen eyes her stroganoff warily, nose wrinkled in distaste. “I don’t think the recipe has changed World War Two.”

She slides into the last available seat, so close she nearly elbows the jaeger mechanic next to her. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Mitsuhide hums on her other side, and she feels the rumble in her elbow, warm and pleasant. Kiki’s not a fan of eating at the designated meal times-- Zen’s the one that likes to see and be seen by the adoring masses, not her-- but being crushed in like sardines does have its perks, sometimes.

Zen opens his mouth-- to complain, she assumes, since he habitually gripes about the mushrooms being too fragrant for his taste-- but she sweeps in before he can get a word out with, “Luigis is here.”

His jaw drops. Mitsuhide nearly chokes on his milk.

“Hisame Luigis?”

As much as she would love to rag him, to say what other Luigis is there?-- it’s a valid question. With a general for a father and a ranger for a brother, any one of them had a better reason to be here than Hisame did. Too bad; teasing Zen was the best entertainment she could get in the dome.

“What does he think he’s doing here?” His arms fold tight over his chest. “Did he not get humiliated enough the last time?”

“Well, you know,” she drawls, scooping up a forkful of her dinner, “for some people it’s a kink.” While he’s sputtering, she adds, “He says he was invited.”

Mitsuhide frowns into his stoganoff. “Invited?”

“By who? My brother?” Zen shakes his head, emphatic. “Last time he was here, Izana was happy to see the back of him.”

She shrugs. “He didn’t say.”

“But who else could?” Mitsuhide sits back, thoughtful. “There’s not a lot of people who could go over a Marshal’s head, not even here.”

Kiki shovels a bite of beef into her mouth. “Garrack.”

They both sit back at that, uncomfortable. “But for what?” Mitsuhide presses, sounding strained. “He hasn’t piloted a jaeger outside of the simulations.”

“And they can’t be trying to put him in one.” Zen shoved peas around on his plate, mullish. “The neural handshake’s only meant for two, and with Hisame’s ego taking up the second chair, I don’t know how anyone else would fit.”

She can’t help but grin at that. “Maybe they’re making a three-pilot jaeger.”

“Wasn’t China working on something like that?” Zen’s expression turns speculative, distracted. “Something...Typhoon wasn’t it? Triplets were piloting it.”

“Crimson Typhoon,” she corrects, “based out of Hong Kong.”

“Right, and then Japan said they could seat seven.” He shakes his head. “Good thing nothing came of that. Sounds like a disaster from start to finish.”

“Too many cooks in the kitchen,” she agrees.

“Maybe it’s a single ranger jaeger,” Mitsuhide says, and she nearly laughs until she realizes he’s serious.

“Single ranger?” she echoes, dubious. “Can’t be done.”

“Or they’d be tiny,” Zen scoffs, waving a hand. “There’s no way you could pilot a mech as big as Rex all by yourself.”

“Can’t be that then.” Kiki’s mouth quirks. “Hisame Luigis could never suffer being smaller than anyone else.”

Mitsuhide flushes a red so deep it looks painful, studiously applying himself to his dinner as if it might make make him less noticeable. Too bad being six-foot-fuckable and a head taller than half the folks in the mess didn’t lend itself to invisibility.

Zen grins, smelling blood on the water that for once isn’t his. “Right. We all know that’s for-- ah, fuck.”

Kiki takes in his wide eyes, his pinched mouth, and twists her chin over a shoulder. Her stomach knots just think that snake could be right behind her, knowing she still talks about him and inferring all sorts of idiotic encouragement from it, but--

But she only sees a bright red bob lingering over by the chafing dishes, sticking out like a buoy on a choppy sea.

She frowns. Shirayuki was usually cause for excitement, or at least Zen making an ass of himself trying to impress her. There should be a sudden, manic search for stories sedate enough to tell but funny enough to entertain, since the good doctor apparently labored under the misconception that Zen was intentionally witty, and didn’t just bumble into cleverness completely by accident, but today--

Today there’s a lean body that curves beside hers, a slim question next to Shirayuki’s bright exclamation. It’s The Asshole.

Or at least, that’s what Zen calls him. The jury’s still out for her.

“What’s he doing here?” Zen grumbles, churning rice across his plate.

Mitsuhide takes in a breath, measured, and says, “Waiting for you.”

Zen glowers, hunching over his dinner. “I know that. I mean, what’s he doing here with Shirayuki?”

Kiki glances over her shoulder, watching as The Asshole bends down, Shirayuki laying a hand on his shoulder as she yells something over the din, and doesn’t say, flirting.

She shrugs. “Seems like Shirayuki can handle him just fine.”

He glares. “I know that. She just shouldn’t be around a jackoff like him.”

Mitsuhide sets his jaw, and oh, she can read every word he won’t say like it was printed across his forehead: We don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a jackoff. He’d never say it-- and not just because Mitsuhide didn’t truck with words like jackoff and douchebag-- but because he knew to wait until Zen was listening. Which he wasn’t going to now, not with his hackles all raised because the Asshole was in the same room, daring to breathe the same air.

Kiki doesn’t have the same compunctions. “Do we even know if he’s a jackoff?”

Zen sputters, dropping his fork in consternation. “Of course we do! He acts like one every time I walk into the room.”

She glances at Mitsuhide, and his gaze is already darting away. If he isn’t going to point out Zen’s probably earned it, it’s definitely way above her paygrade.

“Every time! Calling me master and reminding me he’s at my beck and call and awaiting my leisure,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I bet he’s over there right now, telling her I’m getting high-handed or something. Like I’m keeping him here to jerk his chain.”

Kiki lifts a brow. “Aren’t you? Izana isn’t going to let him out of the dome until you--”

“I know what he thinks,” Zen snaps, “and it’s not happening. My brother is just going to have to get used to the idea.”

Her brows reach even higher. Izana Wisteria didn’t get to be the youngest Marshal in the history of the PPDC by being the first one to flinch.

Mitsuhide clears his throat, pointed. “And you plan to keep him waiting the whole time?”

Zen blinks. “What?”

“The Asshole,” Kiki clarifies when Mitsuhide balks. “While you’re playing your game of chicken with Izana, he’ll be waiting. Right here. In the dome. Making...friends.”

They all look toward the bright splash of red hovering at the edge of the mess, tray in hand. Shirayuki’s face lights when she sees them, hand half-raised--

And falls. Kiki doesn’t need to look to know what sort of face Zen is making, not when Shirayuki spins so suddenly away, hooking her hand around The Asshole’s arm and steering him away.

“I’m not drifting with him,” Zen says, shoving his tray away from him. “I’m not.”

“Good,” Kiki hums, mouth quirking at a corner. “Be a pity for him to leave when he’s getting along with Shirayuki so well.”

Zen glares at her, mouth pulling thin. “I’m not hungry. Enjoy yourselves.”

She’s supposed to be asleep. Or at least, that’s what the dome’s light pattern it trying to tell her; when she turns on her lights, it’s set to the soft night-time glow.

Shirayuki explained all that once, in her patient, bubbly way: bodies are supposed to use natural light to tell what time it is, and living in a bunker with no windows is one of those things that throws off its entire groove. The mood lighting is supposed to help, subtly dimming and brightening so their brains get the signal that it’s time to sleep or time to work.

Kiki flicks it off with a grimace. It’s a nuisance.

Darkness settles over her, the only light the painfully bright display on her alarm clock. 1:17. She lets out a huff, rolling onto her back. Definitely should be asleep.

Still, it won’t come. Hisame Luigis is here, sauntering around the dome when he has every reason to be a world away, annoying anyone else. Before today she would have said there wasn’t a single thing that could lure him to the site of his own humiliation, but now-- now she knows there is. And what it is--

Well, that’s enough to keep anyone up at night.

She sits up, swiveling to put feet on the floor. Something is happening; it’s one thing for Luigis to be here, gunning to relive all his old mistakes, but he’s not the only new face in the dome.

Her fingers clench around the edge of the mattress. Rex Tyrannous has been sitting in its box for years; Izana might say that getting it into the fray is a priority, but he never picked more than one or two recruits out of the graduating class to try, never seemed to be more than tacitly interested with how they did.

But now, now, he’s flown the whole coast to get this asshole to the dome. An asshole that doesn’t seem to want to be here any more than Zen does.

Kiki levers herself up, reaching for her clothes. Something is happening in the dome, something big.

And she knows better than to wait around to find out what.

There’s only ever been one place in the dome where she can clear her head. It’s too bad that someone’s had the same thought; as she approaches the door the the gym, Kiki can already hear the grunts of exertion coming from inside.

She swallows a sigh, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. It’s better when she has the mats to herself, when it’s just her and her thoughts and the burn of her muscles, not interrupted by the groaning of men who want to impress her--

Good thing this one doesn’t. As much as she wish he might.

Mitsuhide has his back toward the door, and she has the perfect view of the way his muscles coil as he brings his staff up, of the way they shift into sharp relief under his skin as he strikes down with an overhead blow. It’d brain anyone who didn’t block it, but with no partner he brings it up short just inches from the mat, muscle quivering with control.

It’s a sight Kiki never gets tired of. She’s half-tempted to leave her worries behind and just enjoy the show, but--

“You’re up late,” he says, breathless, rising out of his stance. Searching eyes turn toward her, his mouth down-turned with concern. “Everything all right?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugs, tossing him a towel. “No Zen?”

He grunts, snatching the cloth with one hand. “He went to go talk with Izana earlier.”

Kiki grins, sauntering over to where the staves are propped against the wall. “Ah, so you sent him to bed?”

His mouth twitches at a corner, but he shakes his head, saying, all too serious, “He needed some time to cool off.”

She hefts a staff into her grip, testing it’s weight. “I’m assuming this is Asshole-related.”

Mitsuhide lets out a sigh, and they don’t need to be in the drift for her to know he means, what isn’t?

He’s already in his first stance when she steps in front of him, waiting for her to strike first. She should mix it up, try to wait him out, try to lure him into making a mistake early in the bout and riding the moral boost to victory, but--

Well, Kiki hates to disappoint.

Mitsuhide’s a big man, a practical giant, but he jumps over her sweep with a nimbleness that always stuns her. She may drift with him, living inside the corners of his mind, but she can never anticipate his speed. The way that man can move the incredible mass of his body verges on superhuman.

The butt of his staff taps her side, so soft that it’s only her pride that stings. “That’s one for me.”

She lets out a huff, shuffling back, out of his range. “The last one.”

He shrugs, but she can see the smile he tries to hide in his shoulder. “If that’s what you think.”

This time, she’s more cautious, circling the mats, advancing where he retreats. He’s more wary as well; dark eyes fixed to her, watching where she shifts her weight. He catches her first blow, and her second-- light taps, staves clacking together as soft as kisses-- but her third catches him on the thigh, and he laughs.

“One to one,” he tells her, stepping back. “Should have seen that one coming.”

She hums, mouth curving in a smirk. “You should have.”

The go back to their corners, and her body is humming with victory, alive as she watches him shift into stance, and she says, “So, do you know anything about him?”

Mitsuhide blinks, head tilting, and she clarifies, “The Asshole.”

“Ah,” he grunts, more from catching her first blow than surprise. “I can’t say I like him, but that assessment seems...unfair.”

She barks out a laugh, dodging his swing. “I don’t think Zen’s concerned about being fair.”

His mouth pulls thin, and she blocks a hit that leaves her arms vibrating. “Unearned, then.”

She nearly gets a hit on him, throwing off his staff and going for his side, but he steps back, right out of her range. “He doesn’t want to compromise.” 

“This isn’t about compromise anymore, it’s about survival.” She ducks under his follow up, a swing that probably would have left a real shiner on her shoulder. Sloppy on his part; he’s usually so careful. “He doesn’t want to trust anyone.”

She dances out of the way of a jab. “No one does in a jaeger.”

“But all of us would try,” he presses, strangely emphatic as he blocks her strike.

“We would,” she agrees, testing his guard. “If I was down, you would drift with Zen--”

His guard drops, just slightly, and it’s like the heavens are parting since right there, right there is where she can tap him--

And she does, so hard he stumbles back, unprepared. She can only stare for a moment, watching him breath heavily, head hung.

“Don’t say that,” he manages after a long moment, voice too raw.

Her fingers tighten around the staff, and she shrugs. “It could happen.”

His eyes fix on her, too intense too dark. “It won’t.”

She knows better than to tell him it’s not their choice, that every time they go out it’s a roll of the dice whether a kaiju takes them under. It’s not what a man like him needs to hear, not when his last station was up in Anchorage, so near the rift.

“Besides,” he says, shoulders straightening as he composes himself. “I should be more worried about you drifting with Luigis if this knee of mine gives out.”

She frowns. “I’d rather be eaten by a kaiju.”

“Well, that would be the other choice,” he informs her brightly, sliding into his stance. “Two-to-one.”

“I know the score,” she snaps, sending a hit to his legs, a sweep he easily sidesteps. “That better not be the reason he’s here.”

Mitsuhide raises a brow. “Back up?”

She smirks. “That you’re getting old.”

“I’m younger than Izana!” he protests, trying to hook his staff around her knees. She jumps over it, missing the timing on the stomp to keep his bo on the floor.

“And he’s sitting behind a desk,” she replies, enjoying herself far too much. “Maybe it’s time for you to push some paper--”

“He has other reasons,” Mitsuhide grouses, retreating as she advances. “Not because he’s old.”

“They can’t be thinking he’ll drift with Zen,” she reasons, “even if this asshole doesn’t work out, he’ll never agree to it.”

Mitsuhide hums absently, fending off her advance, and she presses. “Right?”

“R-right,” he answers. “Zen really only wants one pilot--”

His staff takes her right in the side, and she’s not ready, stumbling to the ground. With a huff, she sits on her ass, shaking her head. “And it’s not any of us.”

“No,” Mitsuhide says with a grin, offering her a hand up. “It’s not.”

She takes it, levering up to her feet and brushing herself off.

“You know...” Mitsuhide’s face takes a wistful bent, almost thoughtful. “Way back, when Atri--”

Kiki perks. She’s been at the dome a long time, but Atri predates even her, here and gone before she’d even stepped foot on the tarmac.

His lips wrap tightly around his teeth, stopping the words he means to say. “Never mind. Two-two. Next is match point.”

She smirks. “I hope you don’t mind losing.”

He smiles, stepping back into his stance. “Not to you.”

When Izana had mentioned they were hiring on a therapist, Kiki had been skeptical, to say the least. He’d gone on to expound on the newest data, how rangers and support staff alike were suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress at higher and higher rates each year, how having an individual focused on the mental health of a dome had reduced the number of accidents in the hangar and fights in the mess, but--

It’d been clear: Garrack was the one twisting his arm on it, and Izana never got in a fight he couldn’t win.

Kiki’s been in the PPDC her whole life, even if it wasn’t in uniform, and among them, stoicism was less a personality trait and more a way of life. If you didn’t have your emotions on lockdown, if your mental vault didn’t have tighter security than Fort Knox, a drift could break you into pieces. It could break your partner into pieces. She’d seen it happen before, dozens of times.

Talking all that out nicely on a couch didn’t really fit with the aesthetic. Or so she’d thought, until she met Shirayuki.

“Thank you for coming,” the good doctor says brightly, taking tea Kiki offers. “I mean, for inviting me! I’m sorry, I’m just so used to, um...”

Kiki can’t help but smile as she takes her seat, cup warm in her hands. It’s not hard to see why Zen likes her so much, not when she’s flushed just from that little slip. “I understand.”

Relief blooms across her face. “Oh, good! It’s nice to not be drinking alone in my office, for once. I mean, tea! Drinking tea! Oh...”

Kiki smothers a snort with a sip of her tea. “I know what you mean. Though honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if I had to listen to Zen’s problems.”

Shirayuki looks as if she might protest, trying to come to the rescue of her patient, but she must catch her wry tone and the smile lurking at the corner of her lips, because she just stops. “From what I understand, you already do.”

Kiki stares. “You’re right. I should start insist on being paid.”

A laugh bursts from Shirayuki, so bright and earnest it surprises her. “I’d listen to him anyway, but--” she leans in, dropping to sotto voce-- “it does help, sometimes.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her, but it’s worth it to see the way Shirayuki flushes, two bright spots on the apples of her cheeks. “Thank you for coming. There’s not a lot of women in the dome, and it’s nice to just...chat, sometimes.”

“I agree!” Shirayuki tells her eagerly. “There’s more women in K-science than on the deck, but still-- it’s nice to just have a cup of tea and not have to listen to Suzu talk about his numbers.”

Kiki raises a brow. “Suzu’s invited to your girls’ tea?”

“Well.” She takes a thoughtful sip of her tea. “We don’t really have girls-only outings. But if we did, he’d invite himself, and then talk exclusively about his algorithm. The only thing that gets him to stop is Yuzuri--” she coughs, flushed-- “anyway, this is far nicer.”

“I’m only sorry I couldn’t provide better tea service.” She nods at the offerings on the table: buttery crackers with hard cheese, and cookies so crunchy they’re more like hard tack than a treat. “I asked the kitchen if they could make scones, and I’m not sure the cook even knew what one was.”

“Oh, no!” Shirayuki sets down her cup with a clatter, wincing at the sound. “This is perfect, really. When you first asked me to come I was afraid that Zen had asked you to-- ah--”

She claps her hands to her cheeks, mortified. “Never mind. This has been a pleasant surprise.”

“Ah.” Kiki smothers a grimace as she sets down her own mug. “You thought that Zen asked me to talk to you about--”

“Obi, yes.” She spins her cup slowly, as if looking for anything to keep her hands busy. “I know he doesn’t like him. He’s been...vocal about that.”

To put it lightly. “We don’t know anything about him. He’s concerned.”

“I understand that.” Her mouth curves in a wry, almost chagrined smile. “And I understand that being in the dome doesn’t really allow...typical professional-patient relations. But it would be nice if his concern at least took into account that I’m an adult who can make her own decisions.”

Kiki takes a sip of tea to cover her grimace. It’s a fair assessment; there are times where she’s sure Zen doesn’t even remember that his therapist has a doctorate in psychology, let alone is an authority in her field.

“Besides,” Shirayuki sighs, dunking a cookie in her tea. “You could say that about anyone. It’s just that you can say that about Obi especially.”

“You must know all about him,” Kiki presses, leaning in just the smallest amount. “Since you have access to everyone’s files.”

“Oh, no!” Shirayuki shakes her head, hair splaying over her shoulders. “I can’t access anyone’s files unless they consent to treatment. Or, at least, not unless I’m given an emergency override by the Marshal.”

“Oh. Huh.” She settles back in her chair, stymied. “Well, I suppose that makes me feel better.”

Shirayuki blinks, eyes wide. “You didn’t think that I had...?”

Read her file and formed her opinions already? It’s what Kiki would have done, coming into a situation as hostile as the good doctor. “You had to pick your patients somehow.”

Her cheeks flush, differently this time, two angry splotches that spread from jaw to temple. “Treatment is voluntary,” she reminds her firmly. “And even if I could read every record, I wouldn’t. Even with my patients, I prefer to have them tell me something in confidence rather than scrolling through a file. Trust--” she fixes Kiki with an earnest look-- “is the most important currency I can earn in my line of work.”

It’s a good sentiment, and an honest one, but Kiki hums, unconvinced. “But you’ve looked at Zen’s haven’t you?”

Her mouth pulls into a guilty grimace. “I-- I hadn’t, not at first. But when Izana told me he was bringing someone into the dome to drift with him, and that they were going to need to be reintegrated, I, um, well...”

Kiki raises a brow. “You looked.”

Her chin drops to her chest, chagrined. “I...did. I thought he might have...” She hesitates, finger once again rotating her cup on the saucer. “I thought it could have been Atri.”

Her hand tightens on her mug. Atri. The second time she’s heard that name this week. “Is that so.”

Shirayuki sighs. “We’ve been working for months, but Zen just...doesn’t choose to talk about it.”

Funny, how no one does around here.

“Which is fine!” she continues, breathless. “But if Izana was going to bring him back, then--”

Kiki nods. “Then you needed to know who he is.”

“Exactly.” Her shoulders drop in relief, the tension leaving her body on a breath. “I mean, especially if Izana was going to have me treat him--”

“Atri?” She blinks. “You thought he would want you to treat Atri?”

“Well, he, ah...” Shirayuki leans in, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “He asked for my help.”

“Izana.” She’s a broken record, just repeating everything the doctor says. “Izana asked you for help. Specifically.”

“I know.” Shirayuki shifts, just as uncomfortable with the thought. “He told me this was a-- a special case.”

A special case. “So he must have given you access to his file, then. If it’s so...special.”

“Well, yes.” She fiddles with her cup. “Parts of it, at least. But Obi doesn’t seem interested in therapy--” no, Kiki can’t help but think, just the therapist-- “and, ah, it felt...too intrusive to look.”

It probably wouldn’t have done her any favors making friends either, but Kiki knows that’s a thought best left on the hangar deck. “Parts of his file?”

“Oh, um, yes.” Her eyes dart around the room, as if she half suspects Izana would be lurking just around a cabinet. Fair, considering the thing that man knows. “He only had authorization to open up the vitals to me. Everything else was classified. Even his birthday!”

Classified. Kiki take a sip from her mug. “How interesting.”

“Kiki.” Her father’s voice is as comforting as a warm blanket and hot milk, just the thing she wants to hear at the end of a long day. “What a surprise. We just had our weekly chat--” she can hear him flipping through his datebook-- “not even two days ago.”

“I need to ask you something.” She tucks the phone deeper into her shoulder, turning her back to the group of young pilot-wannabes that swagger through the mess. She’d love to do this where there was more privacy, but it’s the only place with reception in the whole dome, unless she wants to explain to K-science what she’s doing. “A favor.”

“Please,” Father sighs, pained. “You know I don’t keep track of that. It’s my job to take care of you.”

Kiki bites down on her lip. It’s his job to take care of his rangers, to make sure there’s no kaiju to wipe out Seattle, and as much as he’d been her dad too-- there was only room to do one job well.

“There’s a file I need you to look at,” she says, voice pitched low, watching the idiots horse around at the window. Must be fresh off the deck if they’re that cocky this close to open water. “Personnel. I’ll send the information over to you.”

“Oh my,” he hums, far too amused. “Should I let Mitsuhide know you’re looking at another man?”

She only manages to half smother the grunt out of her throat. “Just let me know what you find, all right?”

“Of course, princess.” Her teeth grit down until he adds, “Good hunting.”

Izana’s mouth curves as she enters his office, amusement only growing as she drops into the chair across from him and glares across the wide expanse of his desk.

“Ranger Seiran,” he drawls, sitting back, fingers laced on is lap. “To what to I owe the pleasure?”

“Obi,” she says. “Who is he?”

His lips tip into a smirk. “The next co-pilot of Rex Tyrannous, once my brother gets over himself.”

“Don’t do that.” Her knuckles blanch where they clench her knees. “Not with me.”

“No.” He grows serious. “Not with you. But come now,” he raises a brow, “surely you can find out what you need on your own.”

She lets out a long breath, fingers twitching where they lay. To think, she had longed for a sibling, even knowing the Wisterias.

“Ah, I see,” he hums, all too pleased. “Your father couldn’t get you what you needed.” His teeth flash from behind his lips. “Now, now. If that’s the case, you can’t possibly think you’ll get anything out of me.”

“No,” she admits, grudging. “Not about that.”

That intrigues him. “Oh my, then what would bring you all the way here for a visit?”

“Hisame Luigis.”

All the humor drains from him, his back stiffening against the chair. “He hasn’t bothered you.”

It’s not a question, it’s a promise, and some part of her eases. “No, he hasn’t. Why is he here?”

Izana tilts his head, letting the thick shadows in his office obscure his expression. “That is need-to-know information, Ranger Seiran. “

“And I don’t need to know?” she demands, and even shadowed, she can see how his mouth pulls, pained. “After the last time, you don’t think I deserve to know?”

He stands, pacing to where a large painting sits on his wall. “It’s Confidential.”

She grits her teeth. “I see.”

As she stands, he inhales sharply, and she turns.

“Come now, Kiki,” he murmurs into the space between them. “You’re a clever girl. It’ll come to you, if you think about it.”

She lets out a long breath. “I don’t think we have time for that.”

Sometimes, there’s nothing for it to go to the source.

Not much may be known about this Mystery Asshole, but Kiki’s observant, and he’s been on her radar from the start. And if there’s one thing she’s noticed: he doesn’t like people.

Not that he’s rude; oh no, he only vents his spleen in Zen’s direction, which even she can admit is well-earned. But if he’s got a choice between a full mess and an empty gym, she knows exactly which one he’ll choose.

Which is how she finds him, back pressed to the bench, lifting with no spot in the middle of a deserted gym.

Her mouth pulls thin. Only an idiot would risk it, but then again-- it’s not like anyone would offer to help him, not when they could end up on the bad side of at least one Wisteria. These rangers might all talk tough about facing kaiju in the raging Pacific, but one harsh word from Zen and they’re all chicken shit.

With a grunt, she slides in above his head, hands out and ready. “You’re some mystery,” she says, ignoring the way he gapes at her, “aren’t you?”

His jaw snaps shut, mouth pulling into a grimace. “Sounds like you’ve already decided.”

She lifts a brow. “You’re a ranger, but no one in the whole dome’s ever heard of you.”

He does a single rep, racking the barbel with not a single sign of strain. “I hung up my flight suit a long time ago.”

“There’s people here who can list every pilot since Mark 1,” she scoffs, “time isn’t the issue.”

“I didn’t distinguish myself,” he explains, wry, rolling up the bench, grabbing the towel from behind him. “One run wonder, you know.”

She crosses her arms, watching as he towels off the rigid bristle of his hair. “Your file’s so confidential not even generals can access it.”

“Ah, well.” He cocks a brow from under his towel, mouth rucked up in a grin. “Did someone make daddy try?”

It’s not until her knuckles crack, harsh like gunfire in the empty room, that she realizes she’s clenched her fists at all. The Asshole only gets more smug. “Maybe I just value my privacy.”

“You lost that by coming back here,” she tells him, tight, as he stands, unfurling half a head taller than her. Still, she didn’t get on the flight deck by being cowed by a few inches. “Not just anyone gets offered a seat in Rex Tyrannous.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” He slings the towel around his neck, turning toward the door. “As soon as the prince deigns to let me in his head, we can all go home.”

Kiki is a Seiran, a name that commands respect in every dome in the Pacific. Conversations end when she says they end, and no one has ever put their back to her.

But this Asshole just starts to walk away, like she isn’t a general’s daughter, like her mother didn’t save a whole city, like she’s some rookie straight out of the academy.

“Hey.” She grips his arm hard, fingers wrapped like talons. “I’m still--”

There’s no warning; one minute she’s got a hand on him and the next she’s on the ground, jaw radiating pain like the heart of a jaeger. She lifts a hand to it, and oh, that is gonna leave one hell of a bruise.

“Fuck.” Obi stares down at her, those strange gold eyes wide and jaw slack, horror etched in every line of his face. “Jesus.”

She gets to her feet, knees wobbling beneath her. Asshole didn’t kid around when he laid one on you, that’s for sure.

“Hell,” he hisses, hands hovering around her, like he can’t decide whether to help her or ignore her. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t even--”

Okay, that’s enough.

She’s smaller than him, lighter built, but she knows how to pack enough wallop to send him stumbling back. Her knuckles sting-- he’s got a hard head for a boy with such delicate cheekbones-- but it’s worth it to see his face ruck up in confusion, to see him cradling his own jaw.

“All right,” he laughs after a long moment, shaking himself out. “That’s fair.”

“It is,” she agrees, stepping up to him. “But it was my fault. Let’s try this over. I’m Kiki Seiran.”

She thrust out a hand, and he just stares, like he think it might bite him. Fair enough; her other one is still red from where she hit him.

“Right.” His own hand envelops her own, giving it a good firm squeeze. “I’m Obi.”

#obiyuki #mitsukiki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #this is really starting to become an ensemble piece and I'm just gonna roll with it #though obviously there's gonna be some obiyuki pinning this whole beast together #and some side mitsukiki #i got another chapter coming up in a few weeks #which is gonna get a lot more into the drifting side of things #but uh...enjoy the slow build to that point i guess #now with kiki being salty about life

[ravenloon]

Smitten: Thot Topic (Chapter 3)

(for the title it popped into my head and I am not sorry)

Tommy stumbled as Nikki pushed him out of the car. The drummer looked up and smirked,"I didn't know you were the kinda guy to shop at the mall~?"

He noticed the embarassed look on Sixx's face and quickly put his hands up in defense,"T-there's nothing wrong with it! I-I'm not making fun of you! I swear!"

Nikki just rolled his eyes and strutted ahead of him, wide hips swaying seductively. As they walked to the front doors, Tommy noticed some greasy asshole give the bassist a hungry stare. So, Tommy responded with a venomous glare. The guy's eyes widened and he looked the other way, whistling off key.

'That's what I thought,' Tommy sloppily tied his hair up and fell back in line with Nikki,"So, what store were you thinking?"

Nikki rocked back and forth on his feet, looking around like an excited kid in a candy shop. He tilted his head, then pointed.

"Really? Hot Topic?" Tommy deadpanned. Nikki smiled and marched into the store, a smug smile on his face.

The minute Sixx walks in, the cashier raises his eyebrows, flashing a foxy grin," Well, heLO~!"

Tommy walked up behind him,"Which sweater do you want, baby-I-I mean Nikki"

The cashier spun a keychain on his finger,"Lookin' for some playtime with daddy, sweetie~?"

Tommy marched up to the register,"You talkin' to me, fucker?!"

The emo bit his lip,"Well, now I am. But before I was talkin' to that raven beauty over there. Are you with him?"

"W-well, no. B-But-"

"Well then, don't mind if I do~"

Tommy watched, a sizzling feeling in his bones as the cashier walked up to Nikki and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, babyboy~"

Nikki raised his eyebrows and signed something.

"Oh, you're mute, hm. I like 'em quiet~"

Tommy started casually browsing the rows around them. Something wasn't right. He ducked into the sweaters, keeping an ear and an eye on Nikki and his...whatever that little shit was.

"You wanna play with Daddy, sugarbaby~" the guy wrapped an arm around Nikki's waist, the other rubbing his ass,"What say we...go back to the dressing room and have some fun?"

Nikki shoved him off, harshly shaking his head. Tommy looked up to see the guy pick Nikki up bridal style, walking towards the back of the store. Nikki thrashed around, eyes wide in fear.

The cashier laughed,"Oh, don't worry, baby. I'mma make you....feel..." He gulped, seeing Tommy looming above him, a forced smile on his face,"Hey, buddy~"

The cashier giggled nervously,"Wh-what. You aren't w-with him..."

Tommy smiled wider, pupils pinning,"Put. Him. Down....Now."

The cashier did, shaking. The minute his feet touched the ground, Nikki hid behind Tommy sniffling, making the drummer seathe with anger.

He grabbed the cashier by the throat and slammed him against the wall, a blank, creepy look on his face,"Look at me. Look at me, you sleazy fucker!"

Nikki backed away slightly, knees together.  Tommy roughly let go of the cashier,"I ever see you again, it'll be too soon. Come on, Nikki."

Nikki held a finger up (wait one minute). The bassist kneels down and haughtily slaps the cashier in the face. He sticks his nose in the air and strutted out o the store. Tommy laughs,"Fiery little thing, isn't he? I'll be sure to get you fired. Oh, and here's a tip."

He throws a penny at the emo's face and marched out the store. On his way out, he snags an oversized pastel green sweater.

Outside, Nikki is sitting on a bench, crying softly. Tommy, ice in his gut, ran over,"Nikki!"

He sat down reaching over to hug Sixx, then froze when he remembered what the bassist had told him. But he wanted to hug Nikki so badly.

"Hey...Sixxer?"

Nikki snapped his head up, glaring at him with a tearstained face. Then looked down, trying to look regretful. Tommy assumed he was trying to apologize for nonverbally snapping.

"I um...I got you something...I...snagged it on the way out. I hope you like it," He held up the sweater in front of Nikki's face. The bassist eyed it up and down, then absolutely lit up, snatching it and shoving it on. He hugged himself and flapped his arms and legs. It was way too big for him, but he seemed to love it.

"I got the biggest one. You seem to like having sweater paws," Tommy said, heart palpatating at the extreme display of utter cuteness before him. It was quite comical to see a grown man getting excited over something as trivial as a sweater. Still, it was refreshing to see someone as energetic as himself. At least close to himself.

The raven tugged on his shoulder and took out his notepad that he'd put in his sweater pocket,'Can we go get some lunch? I-I'm a little shaken and that made me hungry. Rubios?'

Tommy blushed,"S-sure!" He followed Nikki through the mall to the Mexican grill resturaunt. The bassist walked up to the cashier and knocked on the counter. The guy, probably even younger than Tommy, was awkward looking, scrawny with thick glasses,"O-oh hey, I-I...wh-what can I do for you?"

Nikki poked Tommy, then at the menu, then at Tommy again.

"You want me to order first?"

Nikki nodded. Tommy sighed,"Um...I'll just take a fish taco, man." Nikki stuck his tongue out in disgust.

The cashier tried to stifle a smile,"and for you?" Nikki wrote down on his notepad,'Two steak tacos.'

While their food was cooking, Tommy found a small, metal table for the two of them. It was designed for two people.

Tommy found himself letting his mind wander as Nikki fiddled with the hem of his sweater, smiling softly,'He's so cute...so fluffy...and beautiful. I just wanna hold him in my arms and watch dumb movies and cover him in pillows and share popcorn and....wait...where am I going with this?'

Snap, snap!

Lee blinked, seeing an annoyed Nikki waving a hand in front his face. When Tommy's eyes refocused he gave a look of bemusement, head in his hand.

Tommy dragged his foot along the floor,"S-sorry, I was uh...thinking about some song ideas..." At that, Nikki's eyes lit up and  he shook Tommy by the shoulders, mouthing slowly,'Telll mmeeeee!'

Tommy giggles and starts talking about some song ideas he (thank god) actually had. Nikki's eyes were sparkling brighter with every word Tommy said and honestly, it was making the drummer's heart flip. Sixx was so enthusiastic and their visions complimented each other well, wild and dangerous and glamorous.

"You're a creative genius, Sixxer!" Tommy excitedly took Nikki's hands in his own,"My god, I could kiss you right now!"

Nikki froze, staring at Tommy, blushing. He clicked his tongue, but right as he was about to free his fingers the waitress gave them their food. The bassist got startled, tightening his grip on Tommy's hands.

The waitress smiled,"What a cute couple we have here~"

They blushed scarlet as the waitress walked away,"Enjoy!"

Tommy slowly let go of Nikki's hands and picked up his fish taco. He shoved nearly half of it in his mouth, avoiding eye contact.

He picked up a chip only for it to slip from between his teeth. He yelped, looking up to see Nikki with the chip between his lips, smiling like a child in trouble. He slips it into his mouth and happily eats it.

Tommy picks up another chip and dips in guacomole, eyeing the bassist as he slowly puts the chip up to his li-aaand it's gone. Nikki smiles again, chip crumbs on his cheeks as he chews innocently.

"Sixx, your tacos are going to get cold," Tommy tries to stiffle a giggle. Nikki nods and picks up a taco, gently nibble on it as if he thinks its still hot. Lee chuckles,"You chew so cutely like...nom nom nom cutely."

Nikki curls up a little with his taco, looking embarrassed but amused. He continues noming his way through his tacos, blushing lightly. When they finish their tacos, Tommy throws the tray away,"Ready to go home? I told Vin we'd be back soon."

To Tommy's complete shock, Nikki nods and takes his hand, leading him through the mall, the parking lot, all the way back to the car. The whole way all Tommy could think about was how warm and surprisingly strong Nikki's hands felt,'Guess that's why he plays bass...god they're still so soft though~'

Nikki hops into the car and crosses his legs, laying his head on the window, falling asleep just as Tommy pulled out of the parking lot.

Tommy had to resist petting him so he wouldn't cause a car wreck,'I can't believe how adorable he is. He's like a little cat! He's a badass and a cutie! Win-win!'

#motley crue motley crue fanfiction #fanfiction #gay #creepy perverts #rape attempt #protective tommy #sassy nikki #rubios #sweaters #hot topic #nom noms #tooth rotting fluff #fluff #friendship #music geeks nerdiing out

[dragon-bebop]

What, in my humblest opinion, would be a good way to let Attack On Titan end.

Eren’s not gonna wipe out the whole world. That would be far too straightforward and frankly lazy writing on Yam’s part. I genuinely think Eren will either intentionally or unintentionally pull a Lelouche. We have so many characters set up to counter Eren that to let him succeed would just make all of their development pointless. I mean Reiner in particular, but also the rest of the Marley squad, even the 104th, and Historia’s still floating around with a baby in her, and her silence thus far makes me think she might be the deus ex machina key to ending all this. Letting the whole world burn would just be tossing all their development as well as many of Attack on Titan’s themes, half crumpled, in the trash. It would be suitably edgy for those who like that sort of thing but not, you know, good writing.

So this is what I think: Reiner will become the new Helos, except Eldian this time, somehow stopping Eren alongside all the other titan shifters (hopefully including Annie, yay!), the Marleyan army, Historia, Levi and Hanji if they’re still at least partially intact, and maybe even Eren himself (also Zeke’s still around, so surely he’s gonna do something). If Eren can see glimpses of the future, he might know that he’s going to fail. He also might not and might genuinely want to destroy the whole world. I don’t know which approach would be more interesting. I like to think that when Eren was in Marley he discovered that people are all just people, slaves to their situation. He must have some sympathy. Why else alienate himself from his friends, if not to ensure that they aren’t implicated in his scheme, if not to ensure that when he turns himself into the devil they oppose him? If he really wanted to destroy the whole world outside of Paradis, wouldn’t he have wanted to get his closest friends who, you know, live in Paradis on his side? And if Paradis OPPOSES Eren, that would single him out as the sole enemy, not the island as a whole, and give the Paradisian’s a solid footing off of which to argue their humanity, particularly if an Eldian (Reiner) sticks the final blow. Although Eren’s lack of faith in the other side, which Yams went out of his way to illustrate in chapter 123, does make me lean more towards Eren actually wanting to destroy the whole world, in which case I don’t 100% feel like Eren’s conversation with Reiner back in the Marley arc or Eren’s alienation of his friends makes complete sense. Maybe I’m just missing something, I don’t know. But I like to come back to Kenny’s whole ‘everyone’s a slave to something.’ Maybe what Eren’s a slave to is this whole crazy idea of freedom. I believe Yams wanted to say that being a slave to something isn’t the best way to exist, so I like to think Eren will be punished for taking this fight to its most extreme extreme. maybe Eren genuinely does want to destroy the whole world, but knows he won’t succeed, which would be a sort of middle ground. There are lots of maybes.

So that’s my thinking, or my hope. Eren’s gonna pull a Lelouche sort of deal, turning himself into the enemy and letting himself get killed. Reiner’s probably gonna be the one to kill him. How? No idea. But I’m sure Yams knows what he’s doing, if I’m right and this is where he intends to take it. Eren is definitely going to wipe out a good chunk of the world, though, likely stomping on Marley. Not full genocide but some good old fashioned mass murder, you know? Like I know Yams wants to betray or hurt his readership or whatever, but I am certain that he has no intention of doing so at the expense of telling a good story. And I like to look at good storytelling in terms of thematic and character cohesion, not in terms of what would be cool (that’s why I don’t find any of the time loop theories all that compelling. They’d be cool, yeah, but they’d mess with what actually makes AOT compelling: the characters and themes). Isayama set up the parallel between Eren and Reiner so he’s gotta follow through. The story so far has made it abundantly clear that genocide is bad, so the last thing I think he’d do is let Eren commit genocide. And he’s spread the message that we’re all just people wherever we’re from across the pages of snk as of late (Gabby, anyone?), so wouldn’t it make sense for the story to end with the disparate groups all coming together to take down a common enemy (Eren) and in doing so prove that they aren’t so different after all and that there is a chance for world peace? Then the betrayal comes in the form of just how many characters I’m sure we’ll lose on our way there, including, in my opinion, Eren, whose turn to the dark side is already betrayal enough.

Just please, Yams, don’t kill Jean (and maybe find some time to let the old supporting characters have little moments in the spotlight like you used to, okay?)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk 123 #snk #aot #Eren #reiner #Historia #Jean #Zeke #manga #ending #pls yams dont fuck it up #code geass #lelouche #thoughts #predictions

[bloojayoolie]

Af, Being Alone, and Animals: but i dd spend about 2 months looking ater a small dude ranch oper碵on dring the winter months artednh intemet hookup, onine stuf handled by small ofice in town hang around, shoot funs 게ttledaknow,more pay and-phone ine but tostay durngan e during summ card the costco a d load up on food because %ck dealing ith that road more than neccesary out meals and such have all the food, need for the 2 months but forgot sham g suppies always forget so ething fuck t week one i started talking to the horses week two, they started talking a half spam cans of by hand, used shovel and dug trench and tunnel nelwork theough the ever deepening snow Ip9 a master of moving within my winter hours in attempt to tack, wrestle and ho e de deer for domestication, brethy entertaned idea of using said doe as tckpuppet ala 222897 nearly succeeded, doe managed to break loose before i could finish the kno DO manage to succeed in knäing coyote to death one night, shoot others and brain tan hides into fur cape for other unnasnow escapades many strange things those nights, some creatures one might call a skinwalker, wendigo or worse onger fear these beasts for i have become frozen death itsel from the snow cappad peaks of each building the the tunnel system beneath the snow around the property i have absolute dominion i need othe merest hostile act against the ranch is met by thundering death from my Mosin 거 rout ely catch small animals by hand and either play with them for a short while before setting them loose or silently dispatching them with my hands before they go into the stewpot but alas, al good things must come to an end one moming i hear a faint sound, one i havent heard in a long time, ike the fragment of a lyric to a forgotten song sound about like that hibernating bear i found roof of the bam i see i gaze down upon my crystal world, the shot, bayoneted, kniied, clubbed and sodomized remains of the snowman wars, the harse herd looling to me their leader for guidance, all along the treeline, creatures both large and small cowering beneath my finty gaze, twin chips of ice peering out from my coyote skin cloak guest cabin habt with the snowmen before i attempt to speak and let him know im right behind him im close enough i could bayonet him and must resist the urge my voice cracks in an attempt to say helo from long under use thought i was going to get fired, and nearly dd, but ater he asked about everything that went on and seeing that tha ranch was in perfect order he decided that as long as i showared i could keap the look and we incorporated a whole "mountain man workshop" for the guests, teach them a lttle bushcrat, simple survival stuf and i got a raise out of t. i)00 23.10 No 1:17:42 No.20980609 (36 KB i would gueSS Bam was gambrel style, lot has hay and feed storage, snow pilled to the sides and with a ltle work i managed to build a set of stairs to the pesk and set up a smal snow hut, just big enough for me, my mosin and some smal snacks to lay down in. had small windows al around soi being alone for that long does strange things to you, you gain an intimate knowledge of everything around you. the moment somathing doesnt jve, you are instantly aware of it >be chilin ith my newest addition to coyate fur cloak up on the roof, chowing dowm on some jerky, almost late aftemoon, overcast can hear the satt movements af the horse herd below me a tant knacker n0w and then maxed with their ating and breathing -hear one of them give a brief snort and the rest go silent, no movement giancing to my left i can see one of the roans looking intently to the southwest, into the wind an instant later it hits me, a smell lie rotten meat mixed with an teenagers gym clothes locker that got left over the summer with some kind of a musk to it as well -crouching in my snow hut i pull out my monocular and scan the treeline on the other side of the pasture to the south, that last coyote i bagged was in that direction i find the spot where i had skinned it out, and i know right where the carcass should be i look down the the horses and can see them ail still looking in that direction, not moving no neighs or even nervous wickering between them > pop open the ammo can i keep up there, grab a few fresh stripper clips to tuck into my coat and slide down the slope i set next to the stairs on the north side of the bam snowghost my way along the fence line still keeping my ears open, the smell has faded somewhat, but the musk still lingers like greasy ingerprints on a reshly poished 1911 at a store malke my way to the southen Sence lne, al i can make out is the faint indentations of where snow has fallen to cover my tracks from two days ago yards away, c decide tuck it and walk over to where the coyote was, i can see the drag marks clearly, right over the tracks of whatever grabbed it stracks are deep, but obscured by the drag and whatever took it left by the same path i arrived, cutting east, deeper into the woods, you go far enough and you hit the bob marshall that deep musky scent is stil strong, sticks in your nose the the ofactory equivalent of peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, but not nearly as tasty can see from the way the tracks are spaced whatever it was had a long, bipedal stride, sinking almast twice as deep as my own bootprints into the snow fuly intended to leave the carcass tor scavengers and the like, but seems we have a new player n the game made my way back to the bam,horses are stil fiocated on the southerm pasture line, figure ill stock a few provisions in the haylaft othis marks the start of many a night spand buried in the warm hay pretty used the the night noises around the place, coyotes yowing, maybe a cat screetch and owls caling out dead fucking sience, even the horses kept close to the bam and quiet as snowal didnt get much sleep that night, that musky smell had finally worn off by about dark next few days were uneventful, not a whole hell of a lot happening. second wave of snow fascists attemped to take the stronghold that is my snow fortress and were repelled by a wave of glorious 7.62x54 musk smell slamming crouched low and took a snow trench to the bam stairs and made my way fort, peering over the edge i could see something movng by the treeline down had dark brown fur coering t at least thats what it looked ike, it stayed low whle it moved othe head appeared elongated ending in a blunt muzzle, almost like a bear, but almost like if you took a rottweilers head, took off the ears, scaled R up and covered it in coarse brown hair a deer fronm son of a bitch, that one was MINE exe and its up and looking around, stil with a slight hunch but this thing is BIG, like &- after a momenttgrabs its prize around the nock with a single long arm and takes of into the woods again, i give it a whle before investigating fuck trying to find this thing in >茁the same time, im pissed this thing has the GALL to malest my territory, a strange thought comes into my mind this is my tentory ill mark it how i like, right slong where ts tracks go from the treeline to the clearing before the fence, i piss all along it, took a steaming dump right in one of its foot prints over the next couple af days wat and observe the whole time i cant shake the feeing that im being watched as well also starting to figure out why the boss managed to buy this ranch bunk house making some combread to go with my chǔ when i hear the horses start raising 9 lands of hell, 2 types of chaos and a side of mayhem throw on my coat, grab my mosin and afix the bayonet as i charge out the door towards the corrals in almost knocked ormy feet by the smell first of. smells like a wookie in heat, but i cant see anything looming まof the growing darkness o i make it the main corral attached to the bam and i can see all the horses are panicking, shying away from one side of the comal, the one part of > cant be sure but i would bet money ts he head of the same one i saw it take a few days ago, trn of the neck、just below the head -looking to the treeline i can see a form fading into the pines >bury the head and get the horses calmed down, head back to the cabin othis spooked my horses, made me bum my combread and kiled a deer in MY temitory the next day i keep an eye out, head towards the northem pastures and manage to back another coyote, but i bring the whole carcass back with me this time mother fucker >skin it out carefully, made sure to leave the guts intact, save the hide for later use and bury the carcass underneath some old straw to let it ripen bloated and mpe cayote gather a few pine bows and use an E tool, did a bed to lie down in, cover my tracks with the pine boughs and line the bed with them >Open up cayote and leave it about 10 ft in front of me, cover up my last tracks, fox bayonet, chamber a round and cover my sef with snow now the wating game begins >manage to get used the the rotten coyate smell ater awhile, toes are cold but not the numbness that heralds the numbness of hostbite, thank god for redwings the my □ Anonymous 02/19/16(Fn)03 1056 No 28981228 File its footsteps were barely making a sound in the snow with that musky odor getting stronger with each footfal a hard time controlling my aven wth could see moving through the trees now but my first thoughts on a bearike or dog head and muzzle were wro g. andi ealized where had sr elled something like this musk before long legs and torso leading to powerul shoulders what i guess at a hunch was the neck of an oversized goat head, easily almost 3 meters tall black beady eyes wth a malevolence in themn and stumpy homs pushing theough the hair above ts brow i could see the greasy hair of its chin dripping with saliva leaking from the coners of its mouth as it snifed the air sounding for all the world ike an enormous set of bellows it snorted out a fetid plume as it raised it head and looked past my position to the bam and ranch seemingly satisfed, it stepped out of the trees, crouched and moved towards the coyote, i wated as it got closer 30 s15 sucking in as much air as i could i leap from my concealed position, bringing my mosin up over my head and shouted for all i was worth that sound that came out ofl me i dont think i could ever replicate, Ei did it would have t everything was contained in that scream, every shouted order to for bayonets and charge, every screaming bails on fre rush across no mans land, every howl of fury as blades met, and every roar of primitive fury that another dare take what is mine stopping dead in its tracks i reared up to its full teerible height, almost twice mine in boots and coyote coat >summoning up another shout i shouldered the rifle and took a pace forward, how, i dont know, i was ready to piss mysef with my own stupidity this was something alse, this was a force of nature, and i was going to stand aganst it File ducking its head it glared at me with those obsidian orbs of primordial hunger, this creature was contesting its claim s own, the bass loose the tenuous hold i had u ears i couldet move forward everything in me was screaming to cut an run, but as i stood there gazing down the abused wooden length mosin, the dings and pts in the stock stood dont lonow how, i dont know why, but i took strengh in that, this weapon had faced monsters before, faced an unstoppable machine and brought with a snort of fetid breath it moved to take another step forward anawering with another cro-magnon hol i stode forward, standing over the offending ple of guts that had become the Ine in the snow a scarce few yards from me stood a creature out of forgotten legends, a nightmare made mandest glaring at me with hatred a low rumbling growl bat that i could feal in my chest as its lips skinned back over foul teeth in twisted parody of a grin, baring teeth that had no business in even an over sized goats mouth a third primitive scream escaped my lips as i sighted just over its shoulder and ired my mosin erupted from the i stepped forward, past the coyote, and raised the rifle above my head, stretching upwards on the balls of my feet for as much extra height i could muster, screaming at the top of my lungs for whatever reason, that was enough, backing up and fnally tuning around, it stalked off into the woods somehow deep down in that primitive part of my bran knew i had won, but the ratonal part of my brain stil wanted to piss myself 02/19/16(Fr003 40 50 № 28981350 the barn with a bottle never came across another kill anywhere on the property ater that, found tracks, but never aywhere near the perimeter clearing between the fence and the tree line. even sighted it from a distance a few times after that, but alwarys from a long ways i made the barest mention to the boss ater he had been back for awhile, but he just chalked it up to al the other crazy shenanigans id been up too while i held down the fort for 2 months, but wasnt realy interested. tried talking to a few tribal elders, but none of them wanted anything to do with me thats pratty much it for spooky stones from that tima gave each other a fairly wide berth.

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