He Is An Ant In The Maw Of A Whale. A God In The Mouth Of An Even Bigger God. Organic Servos Fizzle And

He is an ant in the maw of a whale. a god in the mouth of an even bigger god. organic servos fizzle and hum and burn out centuries of ice; and he is a drowsy thing, still, in the mouth of something much, much bigger than him.

Drowsy is not the right word. Too human of a concept. It is atrophy in the way rigor mortis sets into a body, the way blood congeals after death, the once solid structure becomes soft and hard in all the wrong places. pulpy and calcified and off, but these are still viscerally, undeniably human concepts. ( organic concepts, he should say, biological concepts. funny, how on closer inspection, he is as much of a patient as he is a broken thing. engineering to medical, engineering to medical. ) he feels as though something has gone ‘off’ inside of him. rotten and wrong and disconnected. He could never call it a pleasant feeling.

Like the metal rods of a slow heating system, fossilized in it’s own inactivity, his mind begins to warm up again. slow at first, strings of processes and code raveled out onto a screen hooked into the ship as he begins diagnostics automatically, and in this way, begins to shiver & shake his way awake. the praying mantis shivering out of it’s molt, of it’s coma. like running those diagnostics, being the mantis, and finding limbs have been lost in the instar; lost in the transitioning. swathes of him, unseen, unfelt; phantom, in a way. ━ he never expected to wake up to feel them again, though. he'd question if this was death, but something deep in his being; still, persistent after anything, after everything; says he cannot die. refuses to let him. refuses to think. Many parts of him refuse to think, now, but the stoic rods hum to life as his little body crackles on the table with ice, with slate, with a millennium of things caught inside, and rendered their own kind of history.

The moment he is capable of processing what exactly that fills the screen hooked up into the ship, awaking from under a mountain range of warnings and errors and critical failures, he decides he hates it. they can see the decision made and string of interweaving terrible emotions in a series of technological languages he can only pray they do not understand, and decides he hates that too. a fast river of words and numbers and symbols humming down into the console. But it's when Kirk steps into his narrow range of vision, most of his sight destroyed over time by ice in the lenses and his Overseers nowhere to be found, that the screen speeds, and the body shifts.

The movement is a very small one, the adjustment of uncooperative limbs barely a half inch, wires and icy fabric fibers caught in the joints that, once, might've had ornate decoration carved into the metal, but the monitor screams past at a rate it's very likely no one expected such a small, broken thing to be able to input at all ( he does not see Kirk. he sees the people who were there before they were. the originals, the creators, the ancients. something in him buzzes with a terror unprecedented. he cannot stop seeing him for them. he cannot stop seeing them. )

━ until he does. of course he does. there are no masks, no ornate bindings, the frame too wide and the hands too straight; these are not the same. these could never be the same. ( your makers are gone, erased entire. you know this. there is no manner of living, and there is no manner of death, that can make you stop knowing this. ) but for a moment they seemed so similar, like caught in dreams, like caught in…

a pop-up appears on the monitor, and before it can be read or accepted, it vanishes; accepting itself, permission granted. the lights of his eyes flicker dully, barely there, old golden face-paint gleaming in 4 little dots above them reflecting like tiny lights in the overhead glow of the ship. ( an ant in the maw of a whale, a god in the mouth of a bigger god ━ and you just jammed your fingers into it's gums, didn't you? how rude to not ask for permission to their language. your terror has no need for words in this land of things so much stronger than you are. )

" Ppppllease━ " the voice that comes is crackled and broken and borderline incoherent, pitiably desperate, the screen flashing with an ancient, symbolic language. the pronunciation of every word is off, wrong in some way, as though he was learning it as he spoke. he was, of course. ( a frightened part of him insists that it's rude not to answer your host. you are a guest. don't do anything foolish. you shouldn't be here, after all. ) ━ it gets a little better as he speaks, between the glitching of an ancient audio system, and the fried wiring that connects it. he's… mostly understandable, so long as he speaks slowly enough. fingers twitch uncontrollably against the countertop as he speaks, a buzzing lowly humming from his neck. " rererrepeat what you. said? said. repeat. pleasse. I could not know━uunderstand you, administsts-strator. "

@quillheel asked ;

when making first contact, the planet looked entirely uninhabited. the ruins of cities looming in the distance and above, dangerous flora & fauna mixed with non-organic assets like hydraulics and oxygen-supported jets, giant superstructures lurching into the skyline where even more abandoned ruins were kept. strange golden things lurked just out of sight, but a feeling felt by every living creature, as snow plummeted down into a settling ice-age it seemed. The terrain showed considerable, terrible amounts of flooding; great pressures wreaking havoc, but in this it was probably good that they'd landed as late as they had, as the snow held back that overwhelming pressure, at least most of the time.

it's no different when finding one of those superstructures - incredibly advanced semi-organic supercomputers powered half with water and half with a liquid that ate through anything that touched it without a trace left behind - cracked open like an egg from time and wear. the building slowly collapsing in on itself, and a little robotic doll found inside, barely 4ft tall, hooked up to the rest of the building by a large metal arm long-since frozen to the ground, and the robot entirely inactive. It, seemingly the prior user of the miles worth of tubing and wiring that made it difficult to know what the machine wasn't capable of more than it was back in its hay-day, where starving organisms that acted like cell clusters that grew too large raged war inside the internals of the building.

When bringing the android back to the ship for analysis, after god knows how long of trying to find something that cooperated with the alien modules it used innately, it's not hard to guess that no one was expecting him to wake up. // from five pebbles! i very rarely do asks like this so i hope this is okay-!! feel free to change anything if not or if u have any questions!!!!

It's on planets like these , where danger seems to lurk around every corner and there's always that innate feeling that you're somehow being watched , that Jim's more on guard than usual. Leading the landing party by a small margin - phaser at his side and ready to stun , just in case. It's unlike any planet they have ever encountered before. Large buildings stretch into the sky , looming above them. A reminder that there was once a society that lived on this planet - and they were advanced , by the looks of it. The snow fell down around them ( and he would've liked it if not for the eeriness of the silence that snowfall often carries with it ) and he turned to Spock , who didn't seem too pleased with the harsh chill in the air. Neither did Doctor McCoy , for that matter. He was handling it a bit better , but the cold wasn't doing them any favors.

As they approached the structure , there was an air of hesitance as they neared the figure. The Enterprise never had the best track record when it came to robots of any kind ―― but it's inactivity was enough to pique their curiosity. He beckons Doctor McCoy forward , gesturing towards it. ❛ And what do you want me to do about this , Jim ? I'm a doctor , not a mechanic. ❜ The pointed eyebrow raised seared into the side of the Captain's face , and he just chuckled. ❛ Isn't there some kind of scan you can do , Bones ? Anything ? ❜ From the Captain's other side piped up the Vulcan Science Officer , who had neared the Robot , still and cold to the touch , for further investigation. ❛ I do unfortunately believe , Captain , that the Doctor is correct in this circumstance. Medical tricorders are meant for organic life. ❜ The doctor scoffs.

❛ Unfortunately. Like it's that hard to agree with me once in a while. Jim , why didn't you bring Scotty down here instead of me ? Lord knows he's got enough time on the conn to command his own ship by now. ❜

After freeing the robot from the metal arm and getting him back up to the Starship , Jim did take Bones' advice. Engineering was their best bet - to see if they could get any information out of the thing. Records of what the planet was like before it's ice - age. If there was , indeed , a race that once called the planet home. What they were like - what the purpose of those structures were. He noted the scarcity of food , not at all helped by the snow that showed no signs of showing. A pit grew in his stomach as he thought of all of the ways a society so advanced could fall ; plague , war , famine . . He quickly shook it away , turning back to Chief Engineer as he spoke up. ❛ Aye , Captain , you're not gonna believe this - but we've got the wee lad up and runnin'. ❜

Curious gaze fell upon the android , and he took a moment. Waking up in a foreign environment surrounded by people you've never seen before couldn't possibly be easy. And he doesn't even know if it speaks Federation standard. Slowly , he smiled , straightening himself up. ❛ Good morning , ❜ He began softly , gently. ❛ Can you understand me ? ❜

summer vibe

open starter! // goro akechi

somewhere in the city, a white crow looms, deathlike, over the bones of mouse. feathers like ivory, eyes like blood vessels, mind like something hungry wing into limbs built for it, gravity taking hold, and catching air in asphalt claws. Akechi feels the same, for a blinding moment, and wills himself to be unflinching after finding an anticipation of one less step than there was as he goes up the stubby staircase of his office, only realizing his error as his foot goes through the space where the ground comes up to meet him, just in the wrong way.

his balance threatens him like gunpoint for a moment, and some minor shameful part of him shivers with the fact he'd have preferred that opposed to someone catching him like this ━ an angry thrum behind his eyes making them feel tense and pained and dull ━ but the rest of him floods in too fast by the time he's down the stairs properly, releasing held breath only when he's halfway down the hall, and reminds it that a little humility/humanity is a good thing, as that minor shameful part mumbles under its breath that perfection is a virtue, or at least, it used to be.

he finds himself navigating the office almost blind as sharp pain crackles along the seams of the skull like an electric board, shuffling mindfully in some of the more cramped spaces as the brain struggles to consciously process the outside world, so instead it reverts inwards, leaves him on autopilot; on memory. Goro is lucky that while he had not memorized the stairs, he has with nearly the entire rest of the building, or at least the route to his office. some coworkers try and catch his sleeve in conversation as he passes, but he brushes them off, social and sweet, that he's very busy right now, perhaps later! and the mission resumes. ( perhaps it simply does not occur to him of how rushed his stride is, how his knuckles turn into angry white ridges on the grip of paperwork, how one eye on the left side twitches; how this would be worrying if you knew him well enough, and sometimes, if you didn't. )

and when he does get into his office, he shuts the door, turns off the light, and sinks into the feeling of plushed-out fabric on a relatively cheap but not terrible desk chair that offers what familiar comfort it can, and what familiar discomforts he knows which he can avoid and which ones he can't; precise poise not enough, where he imagines he could stay for the rest of the day. ━ he'd rather be lying down right now, migraine lashing into him where even the modest sunlight drips in behind him from concealing blinds is too much, but he takes what he can get with two sharp hands, nails digging into it, and he accepts that this; in all likelihood; is going to be the best remedy that he has for the majority of the day until he can snag a bottle of painkillers on the way back home. resting the cool gloved back of his hand overtop the skin of his eyes. best just to survive, for now, he quietly decides…

… and the peace he craves does not last as long as he so wished it would. minutes or hours, he catches footsteps outside his door just before his doom comes, jolting alive in his seat even to the chagrin of the flesh of the brain as the doorknob rattles, he's lucky he can mask the pain with the squint of trying to change out a lightbulb in his turned off lamp as he peers over to the opened door ( although, he can't hide the twitch ) part of him begs to swipe at them with large heavy claws and rip out anything foolishly not nailed down from his rude guest, fingers poised at the neck of the lightbulb and dexterous enough to turn them even if he was blinded by the light from the rest of the station sweeping into his own little room like bleeding an infection, but he carefully tucks the impulse back. at least, in part, to know who he was going to be clawing at in the first place; not really out of unwillingness to be ruthless, perhaps cruel.

Akechi's head pounds. He finds himself unable to remember the shape of their shadow through the glazed window that otherwise he should've caught. He resists a wave of nausea that threatens to sink in. ( easy, now… )

" Oh, hi! I'm a little preoccupied at the moment, so you might want to take up your problem with someone else if you're looking for speed, but what can I help you with? "

The shaken nerves permeate a little further instead of being settled in the uncertain taken-aback pause, and the more insecure, conscious part of him puts up it's hands for rejection to a heart bore honestly and puts forth the too-little-too-late consideration that maybe he should've waited. Maybe he should've, he considers it again, same as 'maybe he did' just in another skin, but this time the problem wasn't as vague as something being wrong, the problem was just him. him, so loud and urgent and lighthearted all at once, unanswerable, uncomfortable, putting her on the spot. he thought through it before, figured out the best way he could offer, but he always jumps the gun, doesn't he? when the pressure's on, he turns into a blazing thing that couldn't be contained, couldn't be accounted for, couldn't follow rules, couldn't do what they needed him to━━ Stop.

She didn't say no. He knew the freefall he was getting stuck on, and he knew how unhelpful it was. ( bite it back ) ;; Sure, maybe he should've, but he did, and in the end he loves her enough to fix it if it does need fixing the same way he would with anyone; anything else, ignorance not a crime so much as something he tries to mend, and tries not to fall into twice. ━ have a little patience. have a little faith. ( she's not gonna bite you for who you are. she never would. you found out that feeling like you did a broken leg, and it was a terrible one, but you know better. she's not the same. she never could be. )

anxiety was always like a lightning strike, like splitting dead wood, like the shiver of doing something wrong but his heart is louder, the side she brought out of him, and it rings when he realizes she's accepted, when patience pays off.

fuck whatever people wanted to assume. ━ this was what meant something, not rumors, not gossip, not assumptions on something he couldn't find in him to prioritize higher than he did her. maybe it'll bite him in the ass, when reality comes back to intrude, but the victorious feeling in his chest rings out like a bright brass bell and overwhelms it entire. too loud to hear, too loud to care about. ━ he'll handle it when it does ; always itching to move in the moment while he had it ; he'll take the teeth when it finds him, he'll take it because it made her happier, and that's enough for him. it'd always be enough. ━ maybe being called sweet adds fuel to that impulsive part of him, lit alive by approval & praise like a shock to the system. call it sugar-rush, but hell, he couldn't mind the feeling, not when it was from her

" Hell yeah!! " the words bubble out of him as partial agreement but mostly cheer, laced with a sincere elation that he couldn't help as dark eyes gleamed with it. but the blonde catches himself, aware enough to at least lower the volume, and tucks away his free hand into his pocket as an effort to contain his enthusiasm. his leg bounces with a better kind of electricity as he answers proper, grinning as he thinks for a second, and has to acknowledge that yeah ; maybe he's a little more out of his depths than he thought he was. ━━ " I mean- if you're cool with that! I don't know if there's some kind of shopping rulebook or whatever on if guys can come with, but I'm game if you are! "

" plus, " he adds, almost conspiratorially, like this was kind of heist and not just going to get a new outfit " I don't mind breaking a couple rules if you don't, neither, so why not? "

Sure, maybe he doesn't know the etiquette of how to refer more traditionally feminine clothes, and maybe he never really went out of his way to go pick up shopping things for Ann before, but you could never say he didn't have enough energy to make up for it twice over!

When her expression changes to one of surprise, smile vanishing, Ryuji can't help the pang of worry in his stomach that he did something wrong.

Maybe he did, a part of him murmured, you did just make a scene then proceed to ask if she wanted clothing coupons in public, you know? Maybe that'd be embarrassing for her, both in the ways of her disliking such attentions; her efforts to keep her head down royally dashed by sheer virtue of her befriending of him, not to mention the metaverse as a whole; and in the ways of what thoughts it might inspire. ( while Ryuji hadn't first known, hadn't first realized, the concept passed right by him entire until pointed out with pen and paper like an assignment he missed the date for; how many others shared that first unawareness? how many other people would judge her for it? their peers so often tore her apart as it is, a feeling Ryuji was so familiar with. was this feeding the vultures? was it baiting them in? if not appearance in one way, then they would always find another. they would always find something different, they would always find something. )

for a split second, his center of gravity shuddered just enough to make his nerves feel shaken, and he tries not to look too worried. it was just surprise, and if she did turn it down, really turned it down, he could give them to someone else; the sentiment, hopefully, not a bad one. not a lost one. ━ but he hoped she'd take them. he couldn't know what it was like to be who she is trying to outlive who she used to be known by, but he wanted to help, even if he couldn't. wanted her happy, even if it was fleeting. he knew that always, always, she'd deserve that much. ( so he hoped she'd take them. he really hoped she'd take them... )

but Ryuji almost gets blindsided by his own momentary past self as he straightens out properly with his breath regained, not expecting to be caught red-handed in his half-step falter of language; he should've, Akari was quick, quicker than anything, and he finds himself kind of glad for it, but also a little embarrassed at being called out

" Oh! Uh.. " the bleached-blonde falters, not untruthfully, and scratches at the back of his head, openly unexpecting of it, as the other arm he holds the coupons with bends & lowers only slightly in his thought, the offer still blatantly on the table despite the motion " Reason I asked is 'cause, well… I wanted to know if you'd wanna go together! "

might as well be honest! ( double down! )

" I don't really know how to style an outfit like you or the others, a-and I don't know nothin' 'bout girl clothes, " Ryuji bounces his leg by the tip of his shoe, scraping it against the ground, bluntness overpowering the anxiety beneath it " but I like hanging out with you anyways, no matter what we do, and you deserve something nice! "

Ryuji's conviction of the statement is honest, heartfelt, unhesitating. he doesn't even need to think about it to believe it, like it's just a fact to him, like simple truth. he waggles the coupons like it's proving a point, flimsy paper slips shivering in the wind " and if I gave 'em to Ann, I'm pretty damn sure her closet would explode at this point… "

If looks could kill, by now he'd be dead thirty times over, he'd imagine.

So maybe it's just dauntless pride in such a fact ━ or perhaps some fashion of exhaustion from seasickness, given how much running around, swinging, and jumping he's had to do lately, though he's been handling it like a champ ━ that the boy doesn't wilt away from her trite gaze, but the name ( or title, rather ) does get a displeased squint from him, thick brows furrowing in a mild irritation. he didn't much care for it, and such a fact he was not afraid to display, despite it all.

he huffs, looking off as he crosses his arms over his chest and puffs a lip only slightly in attitude, hair a tangle on the saltwater breeze. " as y'wish, captain, 'suppose I ought not tell y'what the crew broke on deck while y'weren't lookin, then. " ━ petty as ever, isn't he?

@quillheel : “ I see great rage in y'er future. ” // from WW link to tetra!

Mixed Starters || Accepting

▲☠️▲❝ It'll be in your future too if y'don't keep those comments to yourself, swabby. ❞

Ohhhh if looks could kill.

tell link i said gaia says hi

Tell her he said hi, too.