The scores were up for that alchemy exam. Dawne eye's scanned for her name.
Dawne Miltoni - 105%
She froze. She got the highest score. Yes! She makes her way to Holt Street and buys herself a fencing sword of the finest caliber. Dawne looked at the beautiful blade on the counter and bought it for a good price. The next hour was spent training. Dawne made her way back to her divination project. She looked for her divination project, she had been assigned to work with Serena...
Serena. As in Serena Vaile.
Dawne remembers the days she was expected to work with those who did not care about her, and only what could be offered. Where she had to grin and bear it, because her father... the keeper of the palace expected nothing short of perfection of his people, especially those who were family.
She no longer held the power she once did so she could not do anything about changing her work partner. She did however manage to convince the professor to allow them to get lunch at one of the fancy restaurants on Holt Street for each day they worked on the project, arguing that because she'll be working with a noble, a simple cafeteria lunch would not be enough.
Now, did she wanna suck up to Serena? No. Absolutely not. She couldn't STAND prissy nobles who acted like the world owed them. But making teachers give attention to a student and watching them squirm was funny.
Her best friend couldn't be too mad... Azee loved her too much.
Dawne sat at the table before getting up. She walked to the board, writing an elegant equation with chalk for the project. It made sense... but as she was writing, it made her think, 'why in Dura's name did they partner her with the rich girl?'
This... was gonna be interesting.
(Ooc: Basically Ex-noble who vehemently denies she was once a noble paired together with a future noble. I love Serena so much, she is very amusing. Dawne... has opinions.)
Serena strode to the table and took her seat---fifteen minutes late. Fashionably late, of course. Serena didn't bother to acknowledge Dawne nor her tardiness, but instead focused on unpacking her designer bag. She set her books out in aesthetic fashion, withdrawing scented pink paper, a pink pen...and her lip gloss.
After instructing the waiter to fetch her some strawberry tea, Serena notices Dawne's equation and frowns.
"I already did that portion. And you need to factor in the levitation principles, obviously."
Serena groaned and stood. Her heels clicked as she approached the board and snatched the chalk from Dawne's hands.
"Look. I'm graduating this semester, and I'm not letting my class grade be ruined because of a partner project.
"So. This is what's happening. I'll finish this, put your name on it too, and you can go to some...hideous skirt club or whatever you do in your free time. Got it? Good. Run along."
Series of snippets from a conversation with @filamints and @bellygunnr
Mr Mints came up with the idea and Gunny wrote the 1st and 4th parts, and I wrote the middle.
-
The menu isn't supposed to be familiar. But Roland leaps at the chance to choose, even if it's something just to include him, even humor him. He knows he's taxing the neural implant buried in the Captain's brain but--
He can't help it. The two words, supplemented by an image and a short description, stitch something together in his threads that he can't just force away.
He senses that the Captain is choking back tears, forcing the Commander to order for them-- aided by hasty gesturing. Roland lets his awareness dwindle away.
All he can think about is shepherd's pie and how it tasted before he-- someone-- took to the skies.
-
It was weird that he chose that dish almost automatically, the captain's eyes catching on the name and something deep in Roland's matrix resonated. He tries to play it off, chatting with the captain and commander as they wait for food and drinks, commenting on the new point of view, the limited sights, the new perspective and sounds. They fiddle with the napkin, tactile feedback smoothing the material against the table and Lasky lets Roland jiggle his leg.
He's nervous but excited, it's new and not, vague memories flash across their minds' eye, both unsure who's the source. The dull roar of the dinner rush, silverware clinking on plates, the dimmed lighting, smell of fresh hot food.
Palmer gently touches their hand, bringing them back and they look at the mirrored wall of the booth. The captain has a faraway look in his eye, they look like they're not all there. The commander's hand is warm and squeezing theirs, she's about to say something when their server returns with the food.
Plates of dishes litter Palmer's side of the table, since Lasky's paying, and then Roland's order is placed in front of them. He smiles and thanks the server, reveling in the returned 'you're welcome' and eye contact, before turning his attention to the plate. The smell making their stomach rumble. Lasky's stomach rumble, Roland's just a guest. He's getting over-excited about this chance to eat and he isn't entirely sure why.
It's picture perfect, which is weird because he always got the crust wrong but- No. What? Lasky's had shepherd's pie before but not in a while and it was some cafeteria on some base, not the homemade image in their head. The questions are only building, and he-they pick up his-their spoon and shove a bite into his mouth. It's hot and comforting and tastes like home.
"Tom? Roland? Are you okay?" Palmer is looking at him, worry clear on her face. They blink and feel the hot tears dripping down their cheeks. The spoon clatters on the plate as he scrubs his face with their napkin. Embarrassment curls through them and Lasky's trying to comfort Roland in his own head.
It's not Roland's head, or even his memories, just an echo of someone long dead now. It's too much. He was already pushing it by being this deep in the captain's CNI and the emotional overload is taking its toll on both of them. Roland feels trapped and scared and Lasky is worried and in pain? Blood is dripping from his nose and his pupils are dilated as they look again into the mirror next to them.
Roland apologizes profusely, hands fluttering uselessly before he withdraws into himself, tucking threads and packets up tight and slinking out of Lasky's head while Palmer gets him to drink some water and dabs at the nosebleed.
His cameras catch their worried looks, but he's too far gone to respond in anyway. The dumb ai and sub-processes can run the rest, he needs to think.
-
Miller would say what he's doing is moping, but Roland is actually very productive being both extremely aware of everything happening on the ship and incredibly out of it as new information is processed at a near human speed. Strands of data and pings reach him at an almost worrying speed and he reads it twice to retain it.
He can feel himself weighed down, emotions taxing his matrix, threads dissolving without his permission. It takes him too many times restarting processes that he wants to give up and powercycle the entire section he's working on. Which would be bad because it's navigation.
It'd also draw a lot of attention and he doesn't need that. He fucked up. Roland mentioned a too human desire, convinced Lasky and Palmer to go along with it, then freaked out when something dormant deep in his code that he didn't want to name woke up and what's worse is that he hurt his captain.
Lasky was bleeding from the strain his episode caused. This was bad. Roland had a good record but it wasn't exactly clean. A little digging would show the things he'd done, behaviors he'd exhibited, the strain he'd been under. Not even halfway through his lifetime and he's already made such a mess.
It's only luck and Lasky's own kindness that he hasn't been -- No. That's illogical. Captain Lasky is a great captain and Roland's done a fine job with his station. Maybe he wouldn't have lasted under Del Rio but.
Roland silences those threads, stopping those worrying parts of himself from continuing to spiral down different logic trees and what if situations.
He's so wrapped up in his own processes that he doesn't realize Palmer is calling his name. Panic floods his circuits, sparking and shorting out all thoughts but the worst case scenarios that haven't left his mind. He wants to sink down and disappear but protocol won't let him, he needs to answer, they deserve that at the very least. He needs to answer them.
Palmer's in her room, with Lasky sitting in her chair. He looks tired, eyes drifting from Palmer to Roland's holodisk. They both look stressed. Roland reads their biometric data automatically, cameras taking in the tightness around their eyes, raised heart rate and blood pressure and their NI's are --
No. He can't. He won't. Not if he might hurt them again. Not if he feels too close to something else, something he's not. He hopes it doesn't hurt.
"Yes, Spartan?" He modulates his voice well, he thinks, but there's surprise on her face at his response. He hasn't deployed his avatar, right now he's just a voice from the speaker on the wall.
"Are you...alright?" She's fighting to keep her tone calm and even, arms crossed and feet planted. He can read her so well after so many hours working together. It hurts. He knows it's coming but he still can't help but try.
"I'm operating nominally, Commander." Not quite a lie, but close enough that it could be used against him. Still he wants to wipe the worry off her face. Lasky's frowning becomes more pronounced and they share a look.
For all the data he's collected, all the tells he knows, all of his vast memory dedicated to these two, he still has a hard time fully understanding the silent conversations Palmer and Lasky can hold.
-
Operating nominally, Sarah mouths, and Roland recognizes her expression as derisive. She rolls her eyes and leans forward, bracing her arms across the Captain's desk, head angled for one of the cameras up high.
"I'm sure the Infinity is running fine," she says. "But you're not, and we're not stupid. Do I need to bring up the crew dossier? How about Command, page six, article B?"
Roland feels a tremor of shock and confusion pulse through his matrix, stalling some of his processes.
"Roland is the shipboard AI and is to be respected as one of the Infinity's commanding officers. His words are to be held to the same weight as the Captain's," she recites. "But regardless of that-- if you think we're going to punish you, or that we're going to fall for your emotionless AI act-- I'm going to beat your ass."
Static filters out from the speakers. He hastily deploys himself onto the holodeck in the room, the confusion and surprise hardly simulated on his avatar's expression.
My favourite moment out of everything you've written has to be the part in The Group Project where the OC swallows Tae's cum with Jimin's dick in her mouth. I think I actually shivered in delight on reading it the first time and it has since become one of my ultimate fantasies. I don't know if you came up with the idea yourself but it's deliciously filthy. The only way it could have been hotter is if she had sucked Jimin off until he added his load to Tae's.
I had almost forgotten that I wrote that! Damn. I’m embarrassingly filthy sometimes.
I figured out the recurring theme for your Jimin fics! It's usually that Jimin secretly likes the girl BUT is too shy to say/ do anything!?!?
Not quite what I had in mind. But there is a certain cautiousness or hesitancy to act on his feelings right away that is common in the stories
I was thinking more about how he always ends up in a situation where he wants to curl up and die from embarrassment in front of the girl he likes. I feel like I need to write something where he can just have sex without being incidentally humiliated first.
Hi! Just wanted to send a message celebrating your use of dialogue in The Group Project. I felt like I flew through the 8,000 words, but it was probably because I was laughing so much. I swear I knew people like this in back in college. Thank you for writing!
This is such a flattering compliment! Thank you!
I love stories that have natural sounding dialogue. It’s always what I’m aiming for (although I always notice awkward spots when I go back to read it again later… always.) My final editing process for every fic is me literally reading the story out loud to myself so I can hear what the dialogue sounds like. I’ll be in my living room acting everything out at 1am before I actually post the fic.
