#i have looked up to spore for over five years now and I am always itching to draw his characters and styles

[frittercrittern]

First actual art fight attack of the year because I have been horribly busy-- King Oberon, from @sporesgalaxy !!

Also transparent version under the cut, cause I was messing around with the background too much.

#what a COOL pony #team werewolves #mlp #my little pony #art fight 2023 #king oberon #i have looked up to spore for over five years now and I am always itching to draw his characters and styles #I want to practice more with the way they handle things because WOW. wowowow it's insane and so pretty looking.

[pinkcatharsis]

I dunno if I should legit continue this because I can’t remember where I was going with it. Read a prompt at @sloaners anon or a comment in one of their posts (fantastic art btw go check it out!) about Tsunade adopting a bb Tenzou and well. I wrote this and it’s unfinished and yeah.

I actually don’t even have a title for it. Was supposed to be an eventual YamaIru, too. Oh well!

—

Names have power, they say.

Tenzou can agree to a certain point because his experience from his missions, his targets, countless reconnaissance on high profile politicians has proven that people tend to cower from the syllables of a name if they are a threat.

Names carry prestige more than an identity.Names give history, are the pillars for legacy provided it is a name the people can accept. More often than not, it is a vessel for fear, control

They’re also a convenient excuse for people to either sing with high praise or forget because the truth is always a pill too hard to swallow.

Sometimes it lies ignored despite its great sacrifice to stop a rampaging monster, when the womb still bleeds fresh and a goodbye too soon falls from crimson lips. It is ignored because it is easier to hate someone helpless than to acknowledge a name that saved everyone.

Sometimes it is indifferent, distant, as cold as the unreadable, white irises of its clansmen.

Sometimes it lies abandoned, walls cracking, dust collecting over blood stained tatami mats where the weight of shame fueled enough strength to slice through flesh. Shame because of a choice to save one’s comrades as opposed to prioritising the mission.

Sometimes it is soaking in blood, whispers of its massacre echoing loud, and towards the end of it, the word traitor.

And sometimes, they’re just old, only remembered through history that is a core subject within the Academy walls, a prerequisite in terms of knowledge for every Konoha shinobi. They’re faded, scattered, heirless, visually only present through the carvings of stone that towers over the village.

Tenzou is conditioned to not pay any heed to something as trivial as a name. Not when he’s been conditioned, trained extremely well, that the only thing that matters is servitude to the village. That the name Konoha is the only thing of true value.

Greater people have sacrificed themselves for the good of village and now, their heir wanders Konoha’s walls shunned, sneered, hated, ignored. Their names hardly mattered in the present -- it’s like the Yellow Flash only exists as a tier to be achieved in terms of talent, hard work and mission success and nothing else. As if the man behind the legacy hardly existed.

Legacy means nothing, Tenzou realizes, in the grand scheme of things.

When you die, you just die.

It’s okay to die nameless.

*

Tenzou hears about Tsunade’s arrival tucked behind the cover of an open locker door. Apparently, Tsunade-hime is in the village for a visit. And like always, she has spent her first day sitting with her former sensei, having tea until she had flung the table across the room, out the window in a fit of uncontrolled, roiling rage.

“I think it’s because sandaime is asking her to stay,” one fellow ANBU says.

“No, it’s got something to do with her gambling debt for sure,” another says.

“Monkey says it has something to do with the council pressuring her to produce an heir,” a softer voice says.

“I thought she couldn’t?”

“Or she doesn’t want to?”

The conversation explodes, only coming to a sudden stop when the sound of a door opening puts a halt on the outright gossip that Tenzou shamefully has been eavesdropping on. Someone dares throw a table out the window in front of the Hokage? And the Hokage does nothing? Tenzou thinks back to Danzou an Root -- if any of them dared show such insubordination, that would mean at least half a day’s worth of lashings under the scorching sun and then dry fasting isolation for thirty-six hours. Not many tend to survive that but that would just mean they’re too weak to remain in Root, anyway.

“Don’t you guys have better things to do?” Kakashi’s voice cuts through with a drawl. It is followed by a series of locker doors shutting, rapid shuffling and then silence. “Oi, Tenzou. The Hokage needs you.”

Tenzou straightens, tugging his clean armor on and running a comb through his damp hair. He slams his locker shut and gives his senpai a wordless nod, acknowledging the summon.

*

A summon that suddenly renders him not so nameless anymore.

Tsunade is a towering figure, heals almost five inches high, back straight, eyebrows narrowed, hands on her hip and staring down at him like he’s a two year old.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Tenzou responds, keeping perfectly still. He isn��t intimidated by Tsunade’s persona. He’s just feeling a little too awkward because if Tsunade leaned any closer to examine him, her breasts would be ten centimeters too close to his face to be called professional, let alone proper.

“You are awfully small for a fourteen year old,” Tsunade tartly says, almost disappointed.

“I am a hundred and twenty nine and a half centimeters,” Tenzou agrees, well aware of how stunted his growth is. Danzou always factored his slow growth to the radiation and chemical exposure, a side effect to the experimentation Tenzou miraculously survived. But small doesn’t mean weak, Danzou had said, one of the few times he had been encouraging.

“Do you even eat, boy?” Tsunade scoffs.

“Yes. Five meals a day when I am in the village, continuously supplemented by calorically dense ration bars that Danzou-sama advised to--”

“Hah! Which one -- the one that tastes like sweet wet newspaper or the one that tastes like mouldy bread?” Tsunade snorts.

Tenzou finds himself stammering a little, glancing a little cluelessly at the Sandaime who is taking a very, very long drag from his pipe. Tenzou’s mouth quickly clamps shut before he can voice out his confusion. He can’t honestly say he knows what mouldy bread tastes like nor can he say he’s actually tried eating wet newspaper, let alone a sweetened one. So he goes with what he thinks is the correct response to this kind of inquiry. “The N-4150?”

“Sweet, wet newspaper. At least that old fart chose the better formula.” Tsunade rolls her eyes before taking - thank heavens - a proper step back.

Tenzou blinks once, altering between Tsunade now very put-upon expression and the Sandaime who is standing there as if he were part of the book shelf. “Hokage-sama, should I not continue consuming the N-4150?”

Sandaime rumbles an amused noise, blowing out a slow stream of tobacco smoke before he stands, rounding the table. “Why don’t you demonstrate your Mokuton skills for Tsunade, Tenzou? After all, that is the reason you were summoned here.”

It gets another eyeroll, with a bit of a scoff from Tsunade, who crosses her arms under her breasts.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou acknowledges.

He puts his hands together, channels just enough chakra and forms a small pot in his hands, slowly filling it with roots coiling until it sprouts green leaves, topped with large, black centered white poppies.

“Oh, white poppies,” Sandaime smiles, his face wrinkling. “An interesting choice. You see, Tsunade, Tenzou here has been studying botany for a year now. He’s a bit of an artist with his gardening. Tenzou, didn’t you recently start studying architecture as well?”

“I have only started reading some reference books three months ago, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou responds, with a bit of a nod, as his fingers tightens a little bit around the pot in his hands, not quite sure what to do with his creation-demonstration.

“Hmmm,” Sandaime hums, a touch bemused before he brings his pipe back up to his lips. “Reminds you of someone, doesn’t it, Tsunade?”

Tenzou looks at Tsunade, who in a space of a heartbeat looks far too young in a show of vulnerability, as her throat bobs when he swallows. It gets washed away when he clicks her tongue and turns to look at Tenzou, giving him a once over.

“Well, no one fucks with grandfather’s DNA, gets away with it and then keep it from me. Had it been anyone else but Danzou, Root of all places, I wouldn’t take issue! When did you discover your Mokuton skills, boy?”

“A year before I graduated from the Academy.” Tenzou swallows. “I was five years old.”

“Nine years! With that creep!” Tsuande shouts.

Sandaime’s tobacco inhale had to be the longest one Tenzou has ever seen.

Sandaime exhales, responding with a sigh, “Better late than never, hmm?”

“Fine.” Tsaunde grouches. “I’ll do it. Tenzou, you can call me okaa-san when you’re ready.”

The pot drops from Tenzou’s hands.

“Eh?”

Tenzou thinks it's a good response. Given the proverbial punch to the face he’s just received.

*

It’s not that Tenzou wants to say he cares much for the idea of family.

It’s more like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

(What does family even mean?)

So Tenzou, much like every other time he gets moved around like he’s no more than a potted plant, agrees.

Not like it really matters, right?

He thinks of it as just having another sort of… superior?

*

A superior that Tenzou apparently now gets to live with after all of those paperwork.

In a large, inherited estate, closed off, covered in wildly growing flora and fauna. The estate does not look like it’s been lived in for decades. There is damage from the growth of vines, some of it poking through the tatami doors, and getting to the interior of the house. There are a few soda cans littered around the gate, some old, some new. Likely the result of dares from the younger crowd of Konoha.

The once heralded Senju estate that Hashirama and Tobirama and their families once resided in is now nothing more than a shadow of its former glory. Uncared for. Outdated. Obsolete.

“Well,” Tsunade huffs. “I haven’t seen this place in, hmm, ten years maybe? Maybe twelve? Tche, what a dump.”

Tsunade toes an old, faded orange soda can by her heel, kicking it further away.

Tenzou wishes he’s no more than a spore in the ground. Should he say something? He may be a Senju by name and by experimental DNA, but that doesn’t really make him a Senju-Senju.

It’s just circumstances.

“Well? What do you think, kid? You like the house?” Tsunade holds her hand out at the once upon a time regal grounds, now overgrown with weeds and littered with random junk.

Tenzou looks at the estate again and decides to go with the most diplomatically acceptable response there is in this case.

“It’s a lot bigger than my apartment,” Tenzou politely responds, as his eyes stray towards the patch of wildly growing rosary pea and oleander growing by the gate.

Tsunade’s booming laughter echoes throughout the entire compound, bemused and real. She doubles over, slapping a hand on her knee, her laugh tapering off to a bit of a wheeze. It almost sounds nervous. A little hysterical even.

Tenzou tilts his head to the side, staring up at this woman, this new mother of his, a legendary sannin, one of the most if not the best, medic there is in the country.

Would it be rude to ask her if she is okay?

“Kid,” Tsunade snorts, shaking her head, reaching out to ruffle Tenzou’s long hair. “I like your sense of humor. You and I are going to get along just fine.”

*

Tsunade asks to see his apartment.

And then proceeds to wear what Tenzou can only assume is her analytical face. It’s peppered with a little judgment, too.

Tenzou’s current apartment is a shoebox in size, with enough space for a single bed, a small sectioned off wall by the door turned to a makeshift kitchen and a connecting bathroom that Tsunade, no doubt, will have to carefully manage her long limbs.

“You like it here?” Tsunade asks, her lips twisting at the sight of the old hotplate on the tiny kitchen counter.

“It serves its purpose.” Tenzou shrugs.

“That wasn’t my question,” Tsaunde prompts, turning that analytical gaze back to Tenzou.

Tenzou frowns, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the back of his head in partial confusion, partial irritation. It’s a comfortable space -- what is she on about? Having an opinion on something as trivial as a living space serves no purpose in the betterment of Tenzou’s skills in the field. It has no correlation to his successful mission counts. Liking something or anything for that matter doesn’t make missions easier or harder, either.

Unsure of how to respond, Tenzou resorts to Danzou’s advice when it comes to undercover. If you’re caught in a tight spot, the easiest thing to slip out of attention is to either blend with your surroundings or mirror the person in front of you.

Tenzou goes for the mirror, sloping his eyebrows down the same way Tsunade is, relaxing his shoulder to what looks like a wary slump, canting his head just the tiniest bit to the side, and responds with what he hopes is a conclusion to this conversation, “It’s all right.”

Tsunade goes quiet for a while, before she sighs slowly and curses under her breath.

“Let’s try this again,” Tsunade sighs, gesticulating with her hand towards the entirety of the small apartment. “What do you think would make this space better suited for you? Take into consideration that you are also currently studying botany and architecture.”

Tenzou looks at the small stack of reference books he had borrowed from the public library, how he has to do most of his reading on the bed. If he had to sketch on drawing paper, he usually does so on the ceiling given the lack of floor space and a full flat wall that isn’t lined with bulging pipes or the sil of the window, with the paper taped on the corners. Makes it easier for him to get on his knees and practice his pencil sketches.

“Then that’s something you should consider when you fix our house, hmm?”

Oh. So he’s fixing it.

Well.

Okay, then.

—

And yeah that’s all I got. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#yamato tenzo #anbu tenzo #tenzou yamato #yamairu #tsunade adopts tenzou #tsunade is wine mama #senju tenzou #please help yamato

[voidsentprinces]

I am seeing some weird defensiveness in the community lately so, I thought I’d write a little something up on my thoughts regarding it. Because though I love Final Fantasy XIV, my experience getting into it seems to begun to echo through the influx of WoW Refugees coming. So before I go forward let me say, I enjoy FFXIV. I think Shadowbringers is the best MMORPG story, I’ve ever been through. That being said, Heavensward was over hyped for me and Stormblood might be slightly worse than ARR for dividing its focusing among two separate revolutions. One which takes up a sizeable chunk of the game and doesn’t impact it until precisely the penultimate quest before the end of the main Stormblood MSQ. That being said, I have like 50 Million Alts and am planning an OC AU Comic to be posted eventually. With that out of the way let me say my peace:

I am glad, there is a surge of new players in FFXIV but like...ARR is still a hurdle. The story time meanders, it rarely finds focus and it feels very monster of the week up until the very end and not every player is going to wait or want to wait for that whole “It gets better later” spiel. If a game doesn’t grab a player within its first few hours, its its own fault. Another wave of new MMOs doing something different is on its way. Between New World and Ashes of Creation, the MMO Market is about to be bombarded with potential once more. After Endwalker, ARR is gonna have to be polished and shifted even more to compensate because the stagnation of the last twenty odd years ain’t cutting it no more. MMORPGs gonna have to sink or swim. No matter how much I like this game, I am not going to be writing home about how surprising the twist behind the ambush before Ifrit was. Or that same story beat is used in quick succession for Laurentius and again for Tiduslayer also being an imposter or for Thancred being possessed by Lahabrea or how it turns out the Inquisitor is also an imposter spy.

Like ARR has one twist beat and it is always that someone is a spy or isn’t who they say they are and it never refreshens it. By the end of Post-ARR its the same story beat they used for Ungust and that’s like Hours of Content that amounts to, “Yeah so, here’s another person who isn’t who they say they are.” Final Fantasy XIV is a fantastic game and all, but the incoming population shouldn’t be expected to stick around especially if we as community keep hyping up, “Oh it gets better in Heavensward” or “Oh Shadowbringers is where its at”. You set the expectations too high and they’re going to expect the second coming of Christ and as we saw with Cyberpunk 2077 or No Mans Sky or hell who remembers Spore? You put too much stock in something it is never, ever going to deliver on that promise.

I came to FFXIV during WoW Legion which is turning out to be the last good thing that MMO has done. And the grind, the overused story beats, and the world did not warm itself to me. It wasn’t until BFA that I actually broke into FFXIV and the only reason I broke through ARR is because I had already done the same thing with Dark Souls. A game about banging your head against a wall until it submits itself in defeat out of pity. Pretty sure general population didn’t get into Dark Souls either.

Point is, I am starting see a lot of defensiveness when a WoW Refugee comes over and isn’t instantly enamored with FFXIV and goes to try something else. If someone is turned off by something and goes to do something else they aren’t worst for it and they didn’t personally break into your house and steal your pets. They’re giving valid criticisms as to why it just didn’t connect with them. No one should have to get use to a look or a story. The story and look should be there to draw them in. Serve as a way to hook them and if it doesn’t there is little you can do about it.

And actually now that I think of it, I feel the need to quote a game critic talking about Dark Souls that I feel holds true for FFXIV experience and how the community seems to have to hint at it getting better at certain story beats later on:

“Now, I never reviewed Dark Souls because other titles were out and my playtime was limited, and every time I sat down to it, it was like walking into a dark shed full of rakes, immediately treading on one and getting blatted in the face. Other people with more time on their hands started telling me it was the greatest thing since tummy-rubs, so I'd go back in the shed thinking, "Well, maybe there was just the one rake," before BLAT in the face again!

So I left it for a while, but this week with plenty of free time in my schedule, I thought to myself, "Last chance! I'll just keep tanking the rakes and maybe I'll somehow become really psychotically into being rake-faced just in time to be prepared for the sequel." And I'll be blatted in the face with a rake if that isn't kind of what happened. I've been raking myself all week right up to bedtime, I'm at risk of going blind!

You see, I resisted Dark Souls partly because people kept telling me, "It's good once you're used to it" and I've always held that the same thing can be said about being boiled alive, so I'd ask them to explain why it's good and they'd reply, "Ooh, we can't tell you. You'll just have to find out for yourself." And then I'd say, "Shut up or fuck off, ideally both, in either order!" But then after watching a decent Lets Play of the game, gone over the wiki a few times and a six week preparation with a team of advisors and physical trainers, I was able to break through the wall. And I suppose that's the first failing of Dark Souls; that you need the fucking Cliff's Notes to get into it.”

Final Fantasy XIV A Realm Reborn treads the same road and is unfortunately the entry point in the series and not everyone is built to do the grind all over again after coming from another MMO. Heavensward is an okay story, the aether currents if you’re not an altoholic like me are irritating to track down especially if, like me, you pick up flying to finish exploring a zone. Stormblood leaves much to be desired from the way it sort of forces Lyse down your throat to the way Hien just sort of goes about thing a little too pragmatically to be called a hero and doesn’t enamor any more confidence during Yotsuyu’s amnesia arc. Shadowbringers is the moment the story becomes about you. Which is kind of strange in the context that an MMO should make you feel like you are the central character and WoW’s greatest failing is in that the world changes about you and you have little say in how things actually unfold. It is a difficult balance to find but one Shadowbringers has done beautifully.

But again, to have to drag yourself through a two expansions to get to the actual goods while having the ever present need of FOMO to be with your friends. ARR certainly isn’t doing the influx any favors.

I am happy our community is welcoming and that there is a sizeable group of people sticking with it til the good stuff. To expect everyone to immediately become entranced by this new world we’re being thrown into is a little silly.

I am sure no one I follow or who can see this is causing an uproar but hey it never hurts to just get it out my system. Oh hey and there’s only 3 months until Endwalker. Here’s hoping for another solid expansion folks. Be excellent to one another even those who only stick around for five minutes and then leave the game for something else.

#{ words from beyond } #{ long post }

[sherrybaby14]

Sneaky Steve

Requests:  I saw your requests are open, I’d love to request a fix were Steve goes after and having an affair with the girlfriend of one of the other avengers?

If you ever feel the inspiration I’d love to see your take on Steve going after a reader who was already in a relationship (maybe a bit dub con but obviously your choices, I know it’s great no matter what )

Omg I saw your requests were open! I’m internally screaming because I’m dying for some sex pollen with a dark! Steve, I honestly live for that shit 😍  So if you have time and feel like writing it, you would be making me so freaking happy! Have a great day babe x

A/N:  I’m being ambitious and combining the three.  

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen,  I’m going to label this NONCON, but it turns into Dub con with the drugs and what not.  

Pairing:  dark!Steve x reader

“I don’t know Sam, he’s just so…”. The word you were searching for was creepy, but looking at his desperate need to have you get closer to his best friend made you think an insult wasn’t the way to go.  “Intimidating.”  

“He’s really not.”  Sam pulled over a lab chair and slid next to your work bench. “He’s just a person.  Please get to know him.”  

You didn’t know what to say.  You’d only been on a handful of dates with Sam.  It wasn’t like you’d even been intimate yet.  Why did it matter to him that you liked his friend so much?  

“He says the same thing about you.  Intimidating.”  Sam shook his head.  “Look, I really like you and I want this to work with us, but Steve is such an important part of my life.  I want my girl and my best friend to get along. Maybe the two of you can spend some time together?”  

“Maybe.”  You’d noticed Steve stop by the lab several times over the last year.  He’d never once spoken more than one word answers to you, but you always felt like his eyes were on you.  

Even when you glanced up at him he wouldn’t break the gaze.  It made you uncomfortable.  

“Great.”  Sam clapped his hands. “I told him to come by around five, when you get off for the day.  Then the two of you can get to know each other and we will all meet for dinner.”

“What? No!”  You realized he’d had this set before you’d agreed.  “I mean.  I have to work late tonight.  There’s some weird compound that needs analyzing.  Very nerd level stuff.”  

“Okay, no dinner.”  Sam looked defeated. “But maybe you could take a break and talk to the man for ten minutes?  Give him a tour of the lab?”

“He’s been to the lab plenty.”  You shivered thinking about the way his blue eyes bore into yours.  

“Please baby.”  Sam squeezed your knee.  “For me?”  

“Fine.”  You rolled your eyes. “Ten minutes.  And am I really your girl?”

“On the way to the title.” Sam winked and stood up.  “Call me later tonight? When you’re done with work?”   “Alright.”  You shook your head. “Now get out of here or I’m going to have to stay even later.”  

Sam gave you a nod before turning and leaving.  You smiled as you looked down at his ass.  He was a good catch and if he wanted you to bond with Steve maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

~~

The compound was fascinating and you were lost in your work.  A knock came, making you jump up from the table.  There he was.  Captain America in jeans and a t-shirt.  Even without the uniform he was still intimidating.  

“Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  He had his hands in his pockets. “Sam wanted me to come by.”  

“Yeah.”  You pushed out the chair.  “Sorry. I forgot.  I’m…”

“I know your name.”  Steve kept a dead face.

“Oh?”  You stood up, his gaze never ending.  “Sam thinks it would be good if we got to know each other.  We’re starting to get a little more serious and all.”  

“Oh?” Steve smiled.  It didn’t look natural though, almost like he was making fun of you.  “He mentioned a tour?”

“Right.”  You walked past him and cringed, wondering why he was so creepy.  “Well this is the organic material lab.  Nothing in here is synthetic.  I just kinda house the stuff, do a few little research projects here or there.”  

“House?” His voice was so close.

You looked over your shoulder to see he was almost on top of you.  You slid to the left and unlocked one of the cabinets.  

“Yeah.  A bunch of different compounds.”  You opened your arm. “Really boring stuff unless you’re into chemistry.”  

“So what’s this one?”  Steve reached in the cabinet.  

He didn’t grab one on top.  Instead he reached back and pulled a container so random it didn’t seem random at all.  

“Be careful!  Some of this stuff is dangerous.”  You wanted to slap his hand, but didn’t want to touch him.  

“Like this?”  He flipped open the lid.  

“HEY!”  You didn’t have time to react before he pursed his lips and blew.  

Orange powder blasted you in the face.  

“What the fuck?”  You spun and ran to the eye wash station, trying your hardest not to breathe any of it in.   “What is wrong with you?  What was that?”  

“Ipomoea purpurea helianthus annuus.”  Steve did not have any semblance of concern or fear, in fact he sounded quite happy.  

You scrubbed your skin while your brain tried to place the compound.  

“I wouldn’t worry about getting it all off.”  Steve was right behind you.  “All you need is a few spores to take effect.  I’m thinking we’ve got less than three minutes.”  

“What?”  You turned to look at him.  “What effect?”  

“I thought you were smart.”  Steve frowned.  “You don’t have all the best potions down by name yet?”  

“Are you psychotic?”  You started toward the door.  

“Where are you going?”  Steve raced over and blocked the exit.  “If you leave you risk infecting others.  We have to wait here until the spores are dead.”  

“What did you blast me with?  Why?”  You tried to pay attention to your body, looking for any differences.  

“Because I couldn’t take it any longer.”  Steve stood against the door, arms spread.  “The teasing looks. The tension between us.  Dating Sam to get my attention?  That was a bit of a low blow Doll.”  

“What?”  None of what he was saying registered.  “I genuinely like Sam.”

“Come on, he knows it to. Your little secret obsession with me.  Our cat and mouse game.”  Steve dipped his chin.  “He only asked you out to piss me off.  But I think it’s going a little too far.  You belong to me.”  

An itching came over you so sudden that you didn’t notice you were scratching at your neck.  The temperature in the lab was increasing too and you shrugged your coat off.  What did he give you?  You’d been too busy listening to his crazy speech you forgot about the dust he blew in your face.  

“I know how shy you can be.”  Steve relaxed away.  “I’ve had enough teasing. I wanted to get right to the point.”  

It clicked and your eyes went wide with horror as you looked at Steve.  

“No.” You swallowed and shoved at him.  “You have to get out of here. You have to get away from me.  We can’t.”  

“Shhhh, calm down.”  He reached out and pulled you close, you felt so small smothered by his frame.  “ You’re lucky I’m being this gentle with you after your little stunt with Sam.  This way we will both enjoy everything and skip over the awkwardness.”  

“You’re crazy.”  You started to shake as the heat intensified.  “None of what you’re saying.”  

“Games over kitten.  You won.”  Steve dropped his arms and shook them out.  “You got me to break first, but I’m a sore loser.”  

“You’re…” You couldn’t finish the thought, your body was getting so hot.  

Too hot.  It felt like you were baking.  Your clothing itched against your skin.  You needed it off.  Every stitch.

“Don’t fight it. What’s the point?”  Steve grabbed the bottom of his shirt.  “I’m going to enjoy every second of the ride.”  

You wanted to screech at him, but the image of his rippling abs made you clench your thighs together.   What had he done to you?  Were you flirting with him?  NO!  You grabbed the counter and looked away.  

“Here.  I’ll help you.”  Steve was behind you.  

He lifted up the bottom of your top and you whimpered.  You didn’t know if it was because you didn’t want him undressing you or because you were desperate for it.  Everything was getting foggy and the need in your core continued to pool.  

“That’s it.”  Steve lifted your shirt, you hadn’t even realized you’d lifted your arms.  “Good girl.  We’re going to have so much fun together. We deserve it.  We both wanted it for so long.”  

Your shirt hit the floor and you brought your hands back to the table.  Focus.  You didn’t want this.  Thinking the thought felt like a betrayal.  Steve’s hands came around your hips.  He started to undue your pants and you thrust your ass out, giving him easier access.  

“Baby you’re body is amazing.”  Steve pushed your pants down.

You kicked off your shoes and used your toes to yank your socks off before you stepped out of your clothing, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.  

Steve was so creepy.  You’d always thought so, but right now he almost seemed sweet.  Wanting to take care of you, to scratch the itch that was burning up your skin.  The little voice screaming no was getting quieter and quieter as your body felt flush with heat.  

“Help me?”  You ruined your head over your shoulder.  “I don’t want it to hurt.”  

“I’ll never hurt you Doll.”  Steve cupped your cheek.  “Never.”  

His lips crashed on to yours and that was it.  No more little voices.  He spun you around and sat you on the counter positioned between your thighs.  You brought your legs up and pulled him closer, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans.  You moaned in frustration.  

“You’re mine Doll.”  Steve pressed his forehead to yours. “And I take care of what is mine.”  

He brought his hands between you and took off his pants.   You used the opportunity to unhook your bra and drag it down your arms.  

“Perfection.”  While Steve was undressing the rest of the way his head went to your chest.  

His tongue flicked against your nipple.  Forcing it into a tighter pebble than it already was and forcing you to cry out.  

“Too much.”  You ran your hand through his hair.  “Please.  I need you.”  

Steve looked up at your with and let out a growl.  It made you fall back against the table, the cool metal giving little relief.   The only break from the heat was Steve.  Hands were on your panties yanking them down and you almost cried as the scent of your sex filled the lab.  

“You have me.”  You felt his head run up your slit.  “Always.”  

He pushed inside of you with one stroke.   Your back arched and you saw stars as he stretched your walls.  You’d never felt anything like this before.  Every pleasure center in your body was activated and on fire for the man.  

“You are so tight Doll.”  Steve grabbed your thighs and started dragging your body to meet his thrusts.  

You looked up at him.  His eyes were glued to you, but the intense gaze no longer felt creepy.  You realized that wasn’t the word.  It was obsessive.  The man was obsessed with you and you never noticed.  

Before you could whine at the realization his hand came down and cupped your cheek, this time not so gentle.  He spread his fingers until his thumb was at your mouth.  Without hesitation you parted your lips and took his digit into your mouth, grabbing his wrists as you began sucking.  

“Fuck that is a beautiful sight.”  Steve bottomed out, right against your cervix sending a slight sting.  

He stopped moving, but you continued to suck, running your tongue up and down his thumb as you moaned.  Then hit other hand slid up your thigh.  He gathered some of your juices and pressed his thumb to your clit.  You whined as your legs twitched.  

His mouth parted with a stiffened moan as he began rubbing.  Then he started the micro movements.  Bumping his cock against your womb.  The little stings mixed with the pleasure from his thumb and you felt the fall begin.  

You rolled your hips against him, wanting the thrusts and touch deeper, your teeth grazing against his thumb while you still sucked.  Steve’s other fingers dug into your cheek.  You’d never felt this way, so alive, so owned, so devoted, and so desperate.  

“Cum for me Doll.”  Steve’s blue eyes flashed.  “It’s just the first on many.  But I want to see it.  I want to see every muscle on your body twitch.  Cum for me.  Now.”  

You didn’t know if it was because of his words, his hands, his cock, or because your body was ready.  But your orgasm started instantly.  You let out a scream as your head lulled to the side, no longer able to keep Steve’s thumb in your mouth.  

The fire in your body was cooled, replaced with euphoria.  You were hovering in the ecstasy when Steve pulled out and began railing into you.  Every pump of his cock forcing you back onto your cloud.  

“So beautiful.”  Steve leaned down so his lips were next to you ear.  “And all mine.  Forever.”  

“Yes.”  You brought a hand behind his head, hoping that this feeling would never drop.  “Always.”  

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #marvel #fanfic #fanfiction #sex pollen #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore guy - the boy in a shirt with a bat

Part One

Part Two

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

The Mystic Falls team decide they want to get rid of Kai Parker for good - and in a way that would ensure he won’t be able to come back. Death is not secure enough this time, so they go with Malivore. Who knows what the poor bastard is doing down there, but six months later, a new guy comes to work at the college - and meets the reader seemingly for the first time.

word count: 2987 ish

warnings: none

music: blink-182 - down, blink-182 - always, green day - the last of the american girls; Y/N quotes don’t leave me by - you guessed it - blink-182

MAY

Y/N was almost done. Almost-almost done, and the clock was only showing half past seven. It’s still half an hour until full sunset, and she has every chance to wrap it up and go rush to the football field in the town, perch herself on the seats and watch.

It’s just that all the troubles of all the Whitmore students were hanging like dead weight on her, and realistically, if she worked all day, every day, with a five hour sleep, and a twenty minutes lunch break, Christmas included, she would finish reading and delegating all student complaints and applications by the year 2098.

She threw herself back in the chair and pressed her palms against her eyes, letting the green specks poke the darkness. Then she realized that the music she’s been hearing for the last hour wasn’t playing in her head – the sound has been coming from the outside world.

Y/N opened her eyes and listened. Yup, she was sure it was her own brain because nobody’s listened to that reeeally old stuff in years. There’s just nobody left in the whole state of Virginia who’s openly a blink-182 fan.

She jumped up from her chair excitedly, happiness striking in her head like a flare gun; somebody was listening to their song! At the college! Somewhere on the floor! And it wasn’t her!

Y/N left her office and walked down the quiet corridor, following the sound like a thread. What a song it was, too.

Tidal waves they rip right through me

Tears from eyes worn cold and sad

Pick me up now…

The epic teenage angst made you want to go get all the bad tattoos you could possibly spend your money on.

Y/N knew she loved that song some time ago, but couldn’t remember why. It pulled on a surprisingly sturdy thread in her heart and made it bleed in a second; like she was a teenager again, like she was on the verge of a breakdown, and the whole world was full of amazement and bursting, vivid sensations.

Y/N almost ran to the sound, holding her lip between her teeth and never noticing it. Her face was lit with anticipation as she paused in front of the door. Somebody was playing music in the gatherings hall, where the acoustics were crazy, and all the space all but welcomed all kinds of dancing, prancing and hopping. The song ended, and another started to play; and yet she knew it again.

It went like this:

I’ve been here before a few times,

And I’m quite aware we’re dying…

 Y/N pushed the door and it gave. She saw the hall, lit by all the lamps, although she was quite sure that the maintenance had already turned everything off except her office.

A guy was crouching on the floor next to the window, and a big sports bag was lying at his feet. Weird, he looked like a schoolboy, and the next second he stood up and she saw he was a young man. The guy didn’t seem to notice her at first, so Y/N had a couple of seconds to stare at the stranger. He was all jumpy, tall, boyish in a way; his dark hair was a little messed up, as he probably ruffled it with his hands; she’s never seen him here before. Being the welfare office worker, Y/N knew pretty much everyone in this huge place, - which was scary, by the way, - but this one was probably new. She couldn’t really place him neither with students nor with the staff. So she just placed him with the good music lovers. She already liked this dude. He was wearing a grey shirt with a stupid drawing of a cartoonish bat, green blood spilling out of its mouth. And Converses. Again, who still wears Converses in Whitmore or Mystic Falls?

He looked up, watching her for a second, and then waved his hand. They couldn’t really hear each other over the music, but the guy still said something. Y/N motioned towards his portable speaker which was spitting out the fast chords and energetic drumming. That was the best. That was the best song in the world, and she was almost sorry when the bat guy ran towards the speaker and turned the volume down.

“Hey- woah, I didn’t realize there was somebody alive here!” he exclaimed.

“Are you having a party?” she asked instead of a hello. They stared at each other for a mere second before letting out the air from their lungs.

“Does that bother you?”

“No way. I was drawn here like a rat by a flute. Man, I haven’t heard Blink on speakers or even on the radio, for ages”.

He smiled, and Y/N melted. The guy was approaching her slowly, walking like he owned the place. His smile was white, and his eyes, in contrast, seemed completely black, but, as he came closer, she saw they were dark blue. It’s just his pupils - so enlarged they covered almost everything, trying to devour his eye. He sure looked like he was high.

Something hit her, and backed off immediately. There was something about him, something weird, outlandish, not Mystic Falls at all, neither Whitmore, but hey. Everything in the closest vicinity of Mystic Falls is completely consumed by its spores. Everything was Mystic Falls color, the people, the nature, and the college; people spoke, walked and loved in such a way that you could tell they all come from the same place, full of scandals and vampires.

This dude, though. He looked a bit mad, Y/N reckoned, his wide smile never touched his dark eyes, and they shone with something that made her look just a little too long. He smelled like trouble. After all these years she’s been rubbing elbows with all kinds of bad, Y/N could tell who’s what. She could tell a beast when she met one. Vampires looked different to her, call it intuition or habit.

But this dude… he just looked different. He was like ink, like milk, like blood. His face looked perfect all-American beautiful, with lean triangle chin and strong jaw line. And yet, it was crooked somehow. He looked youthful, but the look about him said old. The fact that he was keeping silent a second too long, was standing an inch too close, looking at her too closely, all said trouble. It was blinding how quick she felt all that, in a flash, and against all odds, she smiled.

She didn’t know what he was.

“Ha, you’re staring”, he said, amused.

“Dude, I’m trying to remember if I’d seen you before”.

His sharp eyebrows, like two eagle wings, were drawn together in mocking concentration.

“Well. Have you?” There was an inviting smirk on his lips, showcasing two things: he had a very nice mouth. And. There was a reason enough to keep distance.

“No. I have excellent memory for faces”.

He shrugged like nothing in his easy, carefree life, mattered.

“Yeah, me neither. This is the first time my eyes are on you”.

“Wow”, she nodded, “you’re weird enough”.

“I’ve been said that”.

“How dangerous are you?”

“Uhm…” he pretended to ponder, poking his chin with his right index finger. Y/N saw a large steel ring on it, with a pretty, strange scattering of tiny dark dots. A very unusual marking, too, but she said nothing. He had a face of a TV star. She could very well picture him in a sitcom with a lame title like “My crazy family”, in which he would be the geeky, but sexy, smart oldest son of a little bit absent-minded parents.

“Like… eight out of fourteen. I’ve been to a camp once… it was a type of… you know, like a summer camp?”

Y/N found she had to actually focus to follow his thought. She looked straight at him attentively, feeling bright magenta giggle rising inside of her.

“Uh-huh. The Crystal Lake type? Or the Sleepaway Camp?”

“Get out!” he exclaimed, stretching his vowels. They laughed exactly at the moment for Billie Joe to yell about the Last of the American Girls.

“No, more like a concentration camp”, he offered, “but like, you’re alone there, so you have to do all the torturing yourself”.

“God’s sake, what kind of camp was it?”

“I literally just told you”, he replied with a pause, and his articulate face went blank. Y/N couldn’t hold off a sniff. She felt like she was a bit drunk, but that was more of overworking, late evening, lots of coffee and that everlasting feeling of despair one gets upon realizing that work will never end.

“Anyway, I learnt a lot of useful stuff there”, the boy said, “how to start a fire, how to make a knot, you know, the type you’re not getting out of, ever. A-and, like, how to make stakes out of sticks”.

Alert reddened Y/N skull from the inside. She tilted her head. Reading him was in vain. This dude was misty, he was shut off like a persona that’s uncrackable simply because it never really existed.

“What for?”

“Oh, you know, grilled sausages and stuff”.

She reprimanded herself silently for being a basket case. Yeah, sure. Grilled sausages, and only then – killing vampires; that’s how it works in the normal world.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“How dangerous are you?”

“Ow, extremely. I mean, look at me”.

She stretched out her arms, displaying herself (like a complete sellout, she thought. There goes the very first male who listens to Green Day and blink-182 and you’re already opening your ribcage for him, what a piece of work).

Diligently, the guy took a step back to get a better view. It was all very comical, with a very characteristic soundtrack.

“I am really looking, and I have thoughts. What exactly do you mean?”

“Small. Disproportional limbs. Frail muscles. Do you see? Very angry as a result. Very angry all my life. So, very dangerous”.

He smiled joyfully, wide, bright sparkles exploding in the dark of his eyes.

“I got it. Not gonna piss you off. Actually, I guess, since I’m new here, I should bond with the strong ones, right? I’ll be working as your computer guy. You need something fixed, so that you owe me a favor and don’t kill me when you get mad?”

Y/N scratched her temple, thinking if she needed anything in her laptop fixed. Ridiculously, there was something.

“Funny you should ask. I have the stupidest problem… I… what’s your name again?”

“Oh, my manners”, the guy sighed gravely, and outstretched his hand, “Mal. And you..?”

She considered his palm for a second before shaking it. A light buzz stung her which she barely noticed. Mal’s shirt was probably all synthetic fabric. She told him her name, and he gave a nod.

“Are you really an IT guy?”

“Why would I lie?” he asked, puzzled. He pointed behind his back, turning a little:

“You see that wall? I’m tearing out the old wiring right now. That’s why I’m here so late. Tomorrow you’re gonna have new wi-fi, with the dopest name and the password you’ll never guess”.

Y/N could instantly think of a thousand passwords that were puns for punk rock songs’ names. She abstained from vocalizing them all immediately.

“Alright then”.

“What stupid problem are you having? Have you tried to…” his eyebrows moved suggestively, like he was about to say something R-rated. “…you know?”

“Nah, it’s with the browser. The default search engine is Yahoo for some reason, and I hate Yahoo with burning passion… I’ve no idea how to make it Google again”.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah. I’m the college sociologist, not a bloody programmer”.

Mal couldn’t help laughing. He headed for the doors, hopping a little in the rhythm of the song.

“Perhaps I made a mistake in detecting you as one of the leaders of this pride”, he mumbled, “where’s your office? You’re the sociologist here?”

Y/N followed him into the corridor.

“Yup”.

“What exactly does it mean?”

“If they need somebody to listen to how they’re closeted gays, I listen. If they need me to fill out the forms for their loans, I fill them out. If teachers had a party the night before and can’t come in now because they’re hungover, I come in instead and take their classes. If…”

“Gee, how much do they pay you for that?”

Y/N felt her face move, all parts of it separately. Just thinking about it was unnerving. But that’s the job she asked for. That’s the responsibility she’d grown into. She’d been a teacher herself for some time, and then got tired of the creative pressure of coming up with the new ways of explaining one thing every day; she thought this position would bring some diversity in her everyday thinking style. She was being silly. However, when she realized she was worked up, it also brought a strange taste of satisfaction in a way that she was giving all of her, and her conscience was clear. She explained all that to Mal. Then she pushed her door and they found themselves in her darkened office. The first pink flames of raspberry sunset were trying the sky.

“Damn it”, she swore, “I’m late for sunset again”. How the fuck long did she spend in the gatherings hall?!

“You like watching it?”

“Sure. It’s like the doorframe syndrome, have you heard about it?”

Mal smiled, sprinting to her laptop that’s been waiting for her on the desk, abandoned.

“Oh yeah”, he sneered, “I was just thinking about it, but then I entered this room and forgot”.

Y/N sat in the armchair on the opposite side of her desk, thinking to herself, he’s probably gonna die really soon. Like Brandon, the last interesting dude she’d met in Mystic Falls back when she was on the haul, working at the Grill. Brandon was the best bartender the place had ever seen in its prolonged history, and he was also very clearly interested in Y/N, too. They worked together a lot, and drank at night even more. They got to know each other pretty well, which made it even worse when someone came in, in the broad daylight, and broke his neck. Just when Y/N thought that the Mystic Falls curse has been lifted and normal people could feel safe. It’s been two years, or even more, since then, and now she sat there, cynical and certain, that such a cool dude like Mal wouldn’t last here long. The place consumes people like him – those who wake up her desire to live again.

“Oh-kay, I’ll just close all this porn here”, Mal looked at the screen. Y/N has been writing a report when she heard the music, and left the document open. “You wanna Google by default?”

“Yes”.

“Come here and learn while I’m alive”, Mal said solemnly, not noticing the look she gave him, stunned at the sinister coincidence of thinking.

She circled the desk and stood at his shoulder. Mal smelled of candy (literally this time), so sweet it was almost suffocating. Did he fucking rub it in his hair?! Y/N thought of tricksters casually, the Scandinavians like Loki, whose only downfall was in that extra sweet smell of all kinds of sugar poison that gave them away. Could Mal be a malevolent spirit, luring her into a trap? What’s he gonna do? Eat her insides?

“Are you looking?”

“Yes”.

“It’s two seconds. See?”

“Oh”.

Mal turned to her in her own armchair like he owned it and looked up without a shade of awkwardness.

“You seriously didn’t know how to do that? I don’t even need to be an IT specialist to be able to fix that”.

“What are you getting at?” Y/N barked defensively. She prided herself in not understanding anything about computers, like it made her old in a wise way.

“I gotta tell you before we kick it off – I have a girlfriend”.

Y/N digested it for a second.

“Oh, you smug face”, she spat out, “you think I’m hitting on you?”

“I mean…” his innocent-wild eyes acted very well.

“I don’t know shit about this computer crap, I thank God every day I manage to even turn it on…”

“You’re cool and very nice, but…”

“I don’t hit on people”, Y/N banged herself in the chest, “people hit on me”.

Mal puffed with laughter, still looking up.

“Okay, sorry. I’ve never met anyone like you. Quiet so… helpless”.

“There. Don’t you ever assume…”

“We’re gonna be friends though, right?”

Y/N shrugged.

“Sure. Emos gotta stick together, or else we commit unspeakable things. Now, get out of my office”.

“I prefer to think of myself as a broke-free treasure hunter, thank you very much”.

Mal was smiling like a cunning happy brat as he walked out of the door. He stopped half way, catching himself on the handle. Having crossed the line of the doorframe, he must have recalled something.

“What did you say about the sunsets? And the syndrome?”

“Oh, yeah”, Y/N uttered, propping herself back at the computer. She could feel evening migraine coming, together with the song blasting and echoing from the hall down the corridor. “When I see that, you know, the bloody pink when it’s just ending, I feel like I’m remembering something I’d forgotten. It’s a weird feeling. Kind of like a déjà vu backwards. You ever had that?”

Mal blinked, thinking. Seriously, this time. Looking at him, Y/N decided, that yes, they were going to be friends. He was making her feel something. Something good about all this job, and all that was in her past. All that she thought she outgrew. He was clear, black and white, sturdy, holding on to her door like he was keeping it in place.

“You have to have your head checked, Y/N. It might be terminal…”

“Get out, Mal. Don’t let my door hit your ass”.

“Jesus, you’re really obsessed with blink-182, aren’t you?”

Y/N felt no shame.

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker imagine #vampire diaries #imagine #whitmore guy

[rotten-whispers]

Trump Card - short story

This piece was written directly before the 2020 presidential elections, but has no affiliation to any political leaders of any kind. . . Nor was it written out of humorous anxiety or political parody, all of that is simply a coincidence of course.

(Also available on wattpad, link in bio)

The year is 2116, and you have just sat down to watch the news.

Hopefully, of course. Because there hasn't been any good news in a very long time. The world has gone downhill in the past 100 years, people have said. And now it's a caricature of what it used to be, ripened by catastrophe and apocalyptic apathy in every corner of the globe.

You sip your coffee and wait.

The news will come on at 11am and play until 2pm, where, on the dot, it will be shut off. People should not be over encumbered by disaster, the news stations were told. Our country should only have to stomach it for a few hours every day.

You've never cared very much for the news yourself, of course, because it isn't very interesting. All of the suffering is so overdone, honestly, you've seen it all in the past 30 years that you've been around. Plague, war, environmental catastrophe, attempted alien invasion, progress toward time travel – pish, posh, uninteresting! What new disaster could ever hope to capture your attention? They were fighting a losing battle.

But still you watch the news, because there isn't anything else on right now. Plus, the presidential elections are coming up, and perhaps there will be something interesting there.

All sorts of candidates have appeared in the past 100 years, but they've all been eerily similar. All with the same unprofessional, almost childish ignorance. They have all had the same taste in fashion, and the same swirl of golden hair.

How odd, you and the rest of the world thought. I wonder if these people could be related.

Every year, one of these people would win, too, but every year, there was still a fool who would try to run against them. A poor fool, growing ever more desperate, who would rant and pull their hair and emphatically struggle to get the country to just once, god, just once vote for the other party.

Never any dice, of course. And so the clonal line would continue to win, year after year, and the world shrugged its shoulders and said well, you voted for him, cannot help you there, sorry.

The problem was, you don't believe that you did vote for him -- you didn't vote at all in the last election. Or the one before that, or the one before that. And the one before that? Then, you did, but you definitely voted for the other party.

The poor woman, dressed in blue, who turned directly to the cameras and begged your country to vote for somebody else.

"Not even me," She had said. "Just anybody but him again!"

So you had voted for her. And so had all of your friends, and your friends' friends, and their friends, and everybody that you had ever met. All of you voted for the frantic lady in blue, because you felt that she was right.

Those people did win every year, come to think of it. Perhaps it was time for a change.

But still one of them won. And still they laughed, wearing the same triumphant smirk that your country had become accustomed to, as the frantic lady shook her head and shouted: "What is wrong with you people?!"

That was the last year that you or anybody that you knew had voted. Now even the act of signing the ballot was a waste of time, because our fate was sealed long before the numbers would even be counted.

And this strange line of people, all with identical faces, all with identical heads of strange, golden hair – which had to be toupees, of course, because they looked so unbelievably false – they continued to rule.

And you continued to watch the debates, with a shrug for the other side, who never once gave up trying.

But there is always the hope that this year will be different.

You really, genuinely pray that it will be, because things really seem to be getting worse. The amount of caffeine in your "coffee" is negligible at this point -- hell, the amount of coffee in your coffee is negligible at this point! And don't even mention chocolate. You had dreams of chocolate, the forbidden crop from the dying rain forest. Every year, for your birthday, you scrounged up enough money to buy a single square, and by god did you cherish it. It was a bittersweet reminder of how the world used to be, a hundred years ago.

At least now, however, there were plenty of things to watch on Tv. Plenty of drama to keep yourself occupied.

When the news begins, you eagerly settle down into your favorite chair.

Saturday mornings, a wonderful time to catch up on the rest of the world. It was the perfect escape from the dreary office in which you worked, toeing the line hour after hour, trying to reach that sweet 10pm when you would be released. The new work day was 8am – 10pm, or hadn't you heard? We have to break our backs to afford air conditioning, of course, because the globe has gotten so unbelievably hot as of late.

That was the first story that you sat through, bored to tears almost immediately. Bored of the weatherman as he predicted another record high temperature.

"Wow, and we are going to be at triple digits for our record fifth month in a row! This is truly an unbelievable event!" He said, nearly word for word as his announcement last week. You change the channel.

This one is delivering an update on the plague. It has gotten worse, of course, as it does every week.

"In these troubling times we ask that you keep faith in our government, which is taking every possible precaution." The man said. His words were immediately interrupted by a commercial, advertising a new theme park which had opened in Oklahoma, and which promised a 10% discount to anyone who bought a group pass for the new season.

"You won't regret it!" Chittered the tv. "Nobody has ever regretted having fun!"

That's the usual entourage of disaster, you think. The world always ends the same way, and it does so about five times a month. You flip to the next channel.

Don't worry, they always said, we have everything under control. And then there would be an update with more bad news, and so the cycle would repeat. Sometimes the news felt more like a punishment than a privilege, these days.

But still, there is something that keeps you glued to your seat, the remnants of caffeine racing through your veins. You desperately want to find something new, something to distract yourself from the dreary world outside your doors. Because this is your day off, and you feel that you deserve a break.

Eventually, just before 2pm, on a research channel that you or hardly anyone ever watches, you find your distraction.

"A strange new discovery has been made that promises to change the course of history forever!" The woman on screen says, excitedly. "Dr. Dire, an entomologist has come all the way from South America to talk to us today about a strange little bug! Dr. Dire, what do you have for us?"

Coolly, a man appears. "Thank you, Miss Waters. My research crew and I have discovered a very unusual new form of parasitism that we have never quite encountered before. Have you ever heard of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis?"

"No," The announcer says. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Well, it's more commonly known as the zombie ant fungus. It's a parasite that penetrates the exoskeleton of ants, using them as a tool for reproduction. Essentially, this fungus changes the ant's behavior by forcing the host to climb to the top of a leaf or stem and permanently clamp its mandibles on the plant. Then the fungus will develop a stalk from the ant's head, releasing spores and mummifying its prey."

"That sounds horrifying! And this mind control fungus is what you wanted to talk to us about?"

"No, no." Now his cool attitude shatters, for a moment, filled with scientific intrigue. "I am here today to talk to you about Megalopyge opercularis, the southern flannel moth. Because we have just proven that as a caterpillar, this species is capable of the same complex parasitism and mind control as the zombie ant fungus. And from our experiments, depending on the host of the caterpillar, the lifespan may increase severely as well. We're looking at 30, maybe 40 years of parasitism! While an oblivious host is completely overtaken and used for this insect's needs, unable to communicate, cry, or even scream for help."

"Scream?" The woman repeats, with a laugh, but his eyes are serious when they train onto her.

"Yes, scream, because this creature can parasitize humans as well. We had an accident in the lab," He leans in closer to the camera, suddenly very, darkly serious. "One of our researchers, his suit broke. And this caterpillar crawled on top of him, pinning itself to the top of his skull. We heard him scream, from the horrible stinging hairs -- but we weren't able to reach him in time."

"Did he die?" Both you and the woman are completely enthralled.

"Oh, no," Dr. Dire says. "He was perfectly fine. Or so we thought. . . until a week later, when we discovered that his personality had almost completely changed. He had always been very. . . progressive," The scientist looks uncomfortable. "But now he was almost like. . . Like a caricature of himself."

Dr. Dire narrows his eyes. "My friend had become a completely different person overnight, and we could not find a reasonable explanation for his behavior. . . I thought that it might have been stress, or trauma from the incident, until one day when we ran into each other outside of work -- outside of our protective suits. And then I saw the top of his head."

"And?" She leans toward him.

"And the caterpillar was there. All of his hair had fallen out and the beast was in its place, like a wig, like a toupee. It had become him, Miss Waters. I know that it had. This ignorant, sexist fool is not one of my colleagues anymore. He is not one of my friends. He is a monster and the entire world must know what this parasite is capable of."

"I'm afraid that we're running out of time," The host begins to say, with a smile, but Dr. Dire frantically interrupts, forcing the camera back onto him.

"Listen to me, this caterpillar can infect anyone! We have noticed unusually high populations in the wild, with a distribution that has overtaken most of North America. This creature is not suffering from the changing climate, it is thriving. It is almost as though each and every one of our catastrophes has been a benefit to this beast. It thrives as we perish!"

"Dr. Dire, please-"

"No!" He yells, slamming a fist down onto the table. "This thing has taken over our world! Can't you see? Our ruined planet has become the perfect place for this moth to reproduce. Our bodies have become the perfect hosts for its young to inhabit! And all of us are just sitting by and waiting while it makes everything worse!"

"I think that you're overreacting," Miss Waters says. "How could a caterpillar possibly make the world a worse place? Even if it can control its victims, it's just a bug, isn't it?"

"It isn't just a bug," The man says, and he buries his head in his hands, suddenly looking very, very tired, like he had not slept in weeks. "My friend has never expressed an interest in politics before, but do you know the first thing that he said to me, before he left the lab?"

She shakes her head and Dr. Dire gives a dark, desolate laugh.

"He said: "The elections are coming up. I think that I'll run for president this year."

Something about this story has started to deeply unnerve you, and you are grateful when the news finally ends.

Perhaps it was that horrible desperation in the scientist's eyes -- like a man who had given up entirely, because everything was already lost.

You need to distract yourself from the prickling discomfort in the back of your mind, so you scrounge up some rationales. This caterpillar cannot possibly be that bad -- the researcher was only trying to fear monger because it's election season.

In fact, maybe he was crazy – they always say that you can't trust science these days. Maybe this caterpillar doesn't even exist.

With the news ended, the presidential debates would begin soon. But you feel too unnerved to simply wait -- it's time to settle your suspicions once and for all. So you pull up the caterpillar species on your laptop, and start reading, as the Tv flickers behind you.

Megalopyge opercularis, also known as the southern flannel moth, is renowned for its strangely shaped caterpillars, which are covered with stinging golden hairs, resembling a badly made toupee. The species has adapted readily to the changing global climate, and is now very common in all areas of the globe, particularly North America, where it reproduces in swarms every 4 years.

Every four years, you think, checking the date of its last swarm. 4 years ago, almost exactly. Just a month ahead of the presidential debates, just in time for the upcoming election.

The feeling of discomfort has blossomed into full fledged anxiety, now, as you stare at the television, waiting for the debate to begin.

There is something horribly familiar about this caterpillar, you think. Something that very strongly resembles its golden hair.

"Hello everyone," The president says, as he approaches the stage with his usual grin, like fangs locked in a sneer. He knows that this debate is just a formality, because there is no fear of losing, not anymore. Not since the past 100 years, when his party would win, year after year after year.

You and the thousands of other viewers wait for him to speak, anxiously studying his form. Thinking to yourself that he really does resemble the last president -- and the one before that, and the one before that, ad infinitum.

You wait, and you watch, and eventually, you finally start to realize the source of the scientist's desperation.

On the top of your president's head, as with all of the previous ones, is a mop of wispy golden hair, completely and utterly identical to the parasitic caterpillar.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" The president says, leering at the camera. "I have a feeling that this year's election is going to be especially interesting."

#writing #stories #short story #short stories #parody #satire #political satire #politics #science #caterpillars #southern flannel moth

[serararku]

Baritone: The Cost of Cowardice

<Theme>

“I never had the chance to bury him. They wouldn't even let me say goodbye. For all I know they left him face down in the grass for the animals… and he was still warm when they sent us away.”

K’thalen watched in horror as his father fell to the ground, stripped of his breeding rights, the respect of his tribe, and his life. His blood stained the northernmost side of the nearest tree red, with the new Nunh raising his soiled blade to revel and bask in his victory. His limbs were still twitching when K’thalen’s mother stepped before her son and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time for you to venture out on your own.” Her voice was impassive and distant, as it had always been. “You and the other boys are now a threat to his breedin’ rights. You must be long gone by the time the sun rises tomorrow.”

“B-but…” K’thalen looked up at his mother with swelling eyes. “But I’m too young, momma…! I’ll die out there…!”

“No you won’t.” His brother’s voice called out from behind. “We both have to leave, aye? Why not travel together?”

“Tia must travel alone.” His mother coldly spoke. “You would do a great disservice to the tribe by breakin’ one of our most sacred laws.”

K’thalen reached out to take her hand, but she stepped away and left before he could touch her. Sniffling, he watched his mother leave with the other women to both tend to their new Nunh’s wounds, and to exercise his breeding rights. Traumatized. Terrified. He wanted to scream out to his mother now that he needed her the most, but he was already a stranger in her eyes. When he turned, his brother was gone as well; likely ushered away by the warrior women on the tribe. Orphaned by his father, forsaken by his mother, abandoned by his brother. Now K’thalen was truly alone.

And he was only eight years old. Too young to know how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive. What hope did he have out in the wilderness of the Black Shroud? Where birds of prey soared silently through the trees to catch meals twice his size? Where carnivorous plants could easily overpower him, swallow him whole, or pump him with toxins? Where the Ixal raid the border of the forest and kill anything they can’t enslave? What hope did he have now?

It was all he could think about, walking through the pitch black wilderness. Not five minutes out on his own and his stomach was already growling. The only thing he was able to bring with him were the clothes on his back and his straw Miqo’te doll that valiantly fought away his nightmares while he slept.

He had to think. There were berries he loved to eat as a snack out here in the Black Shroud, but he had to be careful; the pink berries were edible, but the red ones would leave him paralyzed for hours. Or were those the pink ones? Thinking about it too hard made K’thalen teary eyed again; he just wanted to go back home and sleep. He just wanted to hold his mother again. He just wanted to be safe.

He just wanted to live.

The faint snapping of a twig almost caused him to drop his doll and panic. “W-who’s there?!” He shouted, snatching a rock by his feet to arm himself. "Don't come any c-closer! I mean it…!" 

He saw the familiar yellow glint of his eyes before he recognized his voice. "Keep your voice down Thalley. Or do you want them to catch us?"

"Nolas…?!" K'thalen couldn't believe his eyes. "W-what are you doing here…?"

K'nolas gave his little brother a quizzical look. "We're leaving the Black Shroud to begin our Tia trainin’, yeah? Come on- we still have a ways before we're off the tribe's territory." K'thalen dropped the rock in his grasp, broke off into a stumbling sprint, and crashed into his brother's side. Quietly he began to weep, his arms wrapped tightly around his leg, his fears put to rest.

"Aye, aye, calm down there." Nolas looked around before setting a hand on his brother's head. "Nothing's gonna happen to you, alright? Let's get out of here."

Thrice they barely avoided the patrols through the woods; they would both be executed if they were found working together. The Koo Tribe didn't take kindly to Tia violating their strict laws, after all, but deep into the night they managed to reach the edge of the territory and catch their breaths. 

Tonight they would rest, with an exhausted K'thalen falling asleep long before their camp was even set up. K'nolas let him snooze under the stars- he would need his strength when the time came to hunt for their breakfast. 

"He didn't have to raise me like his own son, but he did. Aside from Father, he was the only one in the whole world who cared whether I lived or died."

Seven long months of traveling, hunting, training, and trading. They endured the brutal summer heat, evaded the chaotic skirmishes of rival tribes vying to expand their territories, survived the coeurl mating season, the marlboro spore clouds, and even the unforgiving winter flash freeze. When they emerged from their squalid cave once the ice had thawed, their training began anew.

"Keep your legs bent… a wobbly footing like that will get you knocked on your back with the slightest push." K'nolas walked around his brother with a stick in his grasp. A light tap on his leg, waist, or arm usually did the trick to correct K'thalen's stance, but the boy grew restless.

"When are you going to show me some cool moves? Like the ones in the stories?"

"Swordplay ain't a game, Thalley. That fancy dance the Storyteller did may look cool, but it would be useless in a real fight- worse than useless, as a matter a fact." K'nolas wished he could have a childhood filled with adventures and fun, powered by his vivid imagination; but the time for pretend was long over. "Do the drills like I told you. No spinnin'! And keep your feet planted, yeah?"

"Okay…" Those stories are what K'thalen loved and missed the most of his old life in his tribe. The Storyteller brought his imagination to life every month, filling his head with acts of bravery and giddy wonder; the kitten wanted so desperately to be like one of the legends he learned about.

Like Y'balgor the Brave, the Nunh who defended his tribe from wholesale slaughter against a gigantic marbol horde. Or L'naro the First, a Miqo'te who single-handedly defeated a vicious band of pirates by boarding their own ships and challenging their captains to duels. He brought his brother’s shortsword up over his head before bringing it down in a single chop, stopping just before his waist. Then he did it again, and again, and again.

K'nolas stroked his chin while he watched his little brother practice his rudimentary exercises, nodding approvingly on occasion. "Better. Much better. I'm glad these lessons are stickin' clean. Maybe you'll be able to hunt larger game on your own so I can get a good night's rest every now and-"

Snap…

They both turned their ears to the sound of a twig breaking in the dark. Immediately K’nolas snatched the short sword away from K’thalen and stood his ground, allowing the younger brother to scurry somewhere close to hide. Neither of them made a sound, focusing their hearing for the slightest noise; out here in the outskirts of the Black Shroud, it could be anyone- or anything. Another twig snapped, and the vivid imagination of the younger brother caused him to squeak out in sheer terror.

“Someone there?” A voice called out from beyond their sight. A half-dozen twinkling eyes appeared from the darkness, before the light of K’nolas’ torch illuminated the faces of six fellow Tia around the same age as the older brother; judging by their clothing, it appeared they were traveling as a group. “Oh- hey there, stranger. Azeyma’s blessings upon you.” One by one they stepped into the light, their weapons sheathed or lowered. “Are you training alone? You could join us if you like.”

“Tia trainin’ together breaks more than a few sacred laws.” K’nolas reluctantly lowered his sword. Four of them were too frail or goofy looking to be a threat, and the other two seemed trustworthy enough to share words... for now.

“Bah- what the tribes don’t know won’t hurt them. Name’s Nex…” He gestured to his friends before continuing. “This is Vihr, Khazu, Rim, Napa, and Sey. We figured working together increases our chances of survival.” He gave K’nolas another warm smile. “Plus, think of all the sparring matches we can do. What better way to prepare us for a Nunh, am I right?”

“Hmph. Can’t argue with that…” K’nolas lowered his blade but he never took his eyes off the group. “I’m Nolas.” He wisely decided to omit his tribal affiliation, considering Nex omitted all of theirs. “Thalley, come on out.” Reluctantly he obeyed, crawling out from beneath the underbrush to hide behind his brother's leg. "Don't be afraid. They're Tia like us. Everyone… this is Thalen. He’s my little brother." K’thalen didn’t like how they were looking at him. He’s heard the stories… of Tia killing anything they can catch to keep their skills nice and sharp.

“Gods he looks barely old enough to lift a sword. Poor little guy…” Rim- easily the fattest of the group- lifted an arm to reveal four plump hares dangling lifelessly in his grasp. "Care to eat with us? Plenty of meat to make a fine soup." K’nolas opened his mouth to politely decline the offer, but he was stopped short when he heard the familiar stomach rumble of his little brother. 

“... aye, let’s eat.”

The eastern horizon was brightening by the time the soup was finally ready. The group huddled in the dark, far away from prying eyes and potential danger, laughing and talking for hours on end. With a full belly and an eased mind, K’thalen had fallen fast asleep, curling up beside his older brother for his protection. One by one they turned in for the morning, until only Nex and K’nolas remained awake.

“You know…” Nex spoke up first after their long silence, his eyes fixed on the dying campfire. “We’ve heard a rather enticing rumor. Have you heard of S’rarku Nunh?”

K’nolas gave the man a blank look. “Every Tia knows the Black Butcher. What of him?”

“He killed A’tebo Nunh a few days ago. Slaughtered him and his sons, and took his wives for himself.” Nex leaned forward to speak in a softer voice. “He’s got close to thirty wives now.”

“Thirty wives…” K’nolas could hardly believe it; he wouldn’t believe it if it was anyone else- S’rarku is known far and wide for his penchant for bloodshed, it’s little wonder how he amassed such a harem. “Sounds like a lucky man.”

“Not so lucky these days. Apparently A’tebo wounded him badly during their struggle, and S’rarku has fallen ill from his infected cuts. Yet he’s still accepting challenges… are you following me? A sick and wounded Nunh sitting on the largest harem the tribes have ever witnessed in over a hundred years! This could be our ticket to becoming Nunh!” Nex could hardly contain his excitement. “Thirty wives… can you imagine? That’s more women than any one man could handle!”

“That’s certainly temptin’, but…” K’nolas shifted uncomfortably in the grass, but he was careful not to wake his brother. “... but we’re talkin’ about S’rarku the Black Butcher here. He’s one of the strongest Nunhs in Eorzea- and certainly the most bloodthirsty. He’s shameless in his desire to slaughter Tia like us. This could be a trap to lure in more for his sadistic sacrifice.”

“Maybe…” He replied, running his fingers through his hair. “But what if the rumor is true? What if his harem is ripe for the taking? And there’s so many… surely the winner could give up a few wives for his comrades? And… let’s say the rumor isn’t true… by law he cannot attack us if we don’t challenge him first. We go to his tribe, see him for ourselves… worst thing that can happen is we waste our time.”

K’nolas didn’t like the idea one bit. Too many variables to account for, too many things could go horribly wrong; he would be in the Sagolii Desert, far away from his element, potentially trapped in a foreign and unfamiliar land with his little brother dragged along for the ride. However… if he managed to kill S’rarku, K’thalen would have a home again. He could grow up with a family, and live the rest of his childhood in peaceful harmony. The allure of so many beautiful women at his beck and call didn’t reel in his bias either- the idea of rolling around in a tangled mess with so many wives excited him. "This could be my best chance to fulfill my destiny and give Thalen a better life… certainly better than scrapin' by out here in the wilderness…" Slowly his gaze met Nex, before he extended his hand toward his new companion. "Count us in."

“I barely remember those days. I spent most of them hanging off my brother’s shoulder when I was too tired to continue walking. But being surrounded by so many like-minded people… the comradery… the laughter… the love… it made me realize what I truly wanted, but never truly had. A place to belong, and a family that cared for me as much as I cared for them.”

Although it was technically Spring, the Sagolii Desert only had two seasons; a scorching Summer blaze during the day, and a freezing Winter bite come nightfall. Today was no exception.

K’thalen stood behind his older brother while they approached the dueling grounds of the powerful Zu Tribe. Despite being nomadic in nature, these conquerors under the careful gaze of S’rarku Nunh always returned to their ancestral homelands to make it easier for Tia to challenge his rule. The sands were discolored and flattened by countless footfalls, and the lack of any true wind meant the bones of the fallen were still exposed after being picked clean by scavengers. Up high circled S’nossk and S’wantha, two gigantic Zu birds large enough to carry an adolescent goobbue off to devour; they seemed to always circle the sun as a testament to the tribe’s unyielding- almost zealous faith to Azeyma the Warden.

“Check them out…” Nex’s ears perked up as he pointed. One by one the wives of S’rarku Nunh came out from the largest tent to watch this spectacle; all of them in peak physical shape, all of them absolutely gorgeous. It was impossible for the Tia not to stare- most of them haven’t even seen a woman in months, let alone the prize that was S’rarku’s harem. One wife in particular had raven-black hair tied in a braid, and it was so long she had to loop it over her shoulders to keep it from dragging. “Check out the eyes on that one…” Nex whispered to K’nolas, licking his lips. “How much do you wanna bet that’s his favored wi-”

“Look! Here he comes!” 

K’thalen could barely see anything under the glimmer of the desert heat, but sure enough the largest Miqo’te he had ever seen came limping out of his tent. There was a gash along his side that looked like it still hadn’t finished healing.

“TIA!” S’rarku Nunh bellowed at the top of his voice. “You have come here to take the bounty I have worked tirelessly to earn! Word of my sickness has stretched far and wide, and now you cowards seek to finish me off at my weakest?! Then come, one and all! I will defeat you all at the same time and offer your blood to the Warden herself!” He raised his glaive in one hand and pointed the tip at the sun. “Come, cowards! What are you waiting for?! A night of unending ecstasy can be yours for the taking!”

“All of us at the same time?!” K’nolas asked, looking around at the group of Tia amassed for this event; there had to be almost as many Tia as S’rarku had wives. “With wounds like that? Is he mad? Surely he can’t take us all at the same time?!”

“This is it!” Nex could barely contain his excitement. “The one to land the final blow will become a Nunh! By nightfall we’ll be warmed by dozens of women…! Paradise!”

K’thalen’s grip on his shortsword was shaky at best; he’s killed game twice his size before, but he’s never used the blade on another Miqo’te. K’nolas must have noticed his little brother’s trembling, and he placed his hand on his shoulder to help calm him down. “Just stay right behind me. I have your back, you have mine, aye?”

“A-aye…!” The boy squeaked, with his heart pounding in his throat. Nex took the first step, and like a virulent contagion or a crashing wave, the courage in the rest of the Tia ignited to a fever-pitch. They charged forth as a group while nearly tripping over themselves to reach him as quickly as they could; hearing of his injuries was enough to get them here, but seeing his wives let them forget who S’rarku is and what he does best. As the quickest Tia around, Nex was able to outpace his friends in a bid to strike the killing blow before anyone else.

A cruel grin flashed across S’rarku’s face the moment Nex was within reach, and not a moment later the glaive came swinging around to lop his head clean off. Blood splattered across their startled faces but their shocked stupor did not last for long. S’rarku charged forward, driving his glaive into the belly of the next closest, before ripping it out to hack off the legs of the next. None of the Tia processed what was happening before it was too late- as the realization that the wound wasn’t nearly as deep as they thought dawned on them, the flash of steel and the gargled screams of their comrades blinded and deafened them to their own deaths. K’nolas was able to snap out of it faster than the others, raising his shield in a desperate gamble to parry the glaive away for a clean thrust of his sword, but he underestimated the Nunh’s oppressive strength.

Beneath the splintered shield his arm and shoulder shattered. He raised his sword to defend himself, but the bite of S’rarku’s glaive took him by the wrist. In one fluid motion the other end of the glaive smashed into his face with a wet crack, and he fell limp into the sand.

Those that were lucky enough to witness the initial onslaught instead of experiencing it first-hand turned and fled toward the shimmering dunes, gripped by their maddening fear and guided by their primal instinct for survival. Yet the two great Zu birds circling overhead tucked their gigantic wings in and suddenly dove toward the sand, sweeping criss-cross to crush, impale, and skewer the fleeing Tia with their razor-sharp talons. Everyone was dead, dying, or running to prevent their deaths in vain. All but K’thalen.

“No…!” He watched in horror as his brother forced himself to roll over onto his chest, before pushing his knees into the sand beneath him to sit up. One arm was dangling from his shattered collar and bent in several unnatural ways, the other ended at a stump that was still squirting blood from the wrist. Half his face was unrecognizable; caved in and sunken in from the mortal blow from the club-end of S’rarku’s glaive. 

“Ruugh...r-r-ruuhuuhuughh…!” K’nolas moaned from the hole in his broken jaw, staring at his little brother with his remaining bloodshot eye. “Ruugh… rough-gh… RUUUUGHNN-!” 

THORK!

A blow to the back of the head sent K’nolas face first into the sand. S’rarku lifted his glaive up and turned the blade downward, before ensuring K’nolas would never get up again. The sword slipped from his trembling hands when a shadow crept up his feet and legs; the Nunh towered over K’thalen with his brother’s blood greasing his fingers. “Here…” The voice thundered. “You dropped this…”

He plucked the sword out of the sand and pushed it back into K’thalen’s grasp. “Finish what you started, boy. Go on… here’s your chance.” His massive hand eclipsed the boy’s grip, and he forced the tip of the blade against his own heart. “All you have to do is thrust. Do it. Become the youngest Nunh in history!” Staring into the cold blue eyes of the man who butchered his brother was too much for the child to handle; his knees jittered against each other before urine ran down his legs.

“No! NO! WAIT!” Rim collapsed in the dunes just a few yalms away, flailing wildly with his bow at the two zu descending upon him.

“Soon you’ll be the last coward alive from your little herd.” S’rarku whispered into K’thalen’s ear. “By right I should kill you, but… tsk tsk tsk… there’s just no sport in slaughtering children. You won’t even defend yourself.” When he released his grip on the boy’s hands, the sword dropped right back into the sand again. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go- run like the rest of these cowards. Perhaps after they eat the fat one, they’ll be too full for you.” He placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him to turn around. With his other hand S’rarku reached over K’thalen’s shoulder and pointed north. “There’s nothing left for you here. Go. Wander into the heat and perish. Or stay… they are greedy birds, and will make room for you soon enough.”

Slowly he forced his feet forward, one ahead of the other. K’thalen was blinded by his tears while he staggered off, S’rarku’s laughter ringing in his ears. The angry squawks of the giant feathered devils feasting on his friends were enough to hasten his steps, until the boy was sprinting off aimlessly into the wilderness; with every moment he braced himself for the darkness of those wings blocking out the sun, and the sharp agony of those talons burrowing into his back. But it never happened.

“Hey- whatcha drawing? Aaaa-yoink!” S’era plucked the journal out of K’thalen’s hands to get a better peek; he didn’t even notice her creeping up on him during his daydream. “Ooooh? You’re really good at this!”

“Eh? Give it back, lass.” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her right now, but thanks to her training with that Hyur sadist, she was quick- far quicker than him, at least. S’era ducked out of his grasping hands and slid through the gap in his legs to escape, and with the whiskey burning in his veins, there was no hope of catching her.

“He’s quite handsome… a self portrait perhaps?” She gave him a playful wink before plopping down on the corner of his bed. At least she extended the journal out to hand back to him before he got really angry.

“My brother.” He grumbled, snatching it back; there were a lot of things he’s written down in this journal of his that he didn’t want her privy to, especially now that she was learning how to read. “His name was K’nolas Tia.”

The taunting smile of hers suddenly vanished. “Was…? Oh… I’m sorry, Thal. If you don’t mind me asking… um… how did… how did he…?”

“Killed by a Nuhn.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her who. K’thalen looked deep into S’era’s pale blue eyes, and for an instant he felt like the helpless little boy being stared down by that monster she adored so much. “It’s gettin’ late, lass. I need to go to sleep.”

“Alright…” She gave him a weak smile while she gently patted the bed beside him. “Sweet dreams, Thal. I’ll make us some breakfast in the morning oka- hey…? Where are you going?”

K’thalen was halfway through the door before he turned to her and answered with, “I’ll be back shortly, lass.” 

“I gotta go take a piss all of a sudden.”

[dansnaturepictures]

1/11/20-Devil’s finger, nail fungus and more on a walk around the Bolton’s Bench/Parc Pale area of the New Forest 

It rather became a case today of where did we want to spend, in a safe and socially distant way as ever and it tuned out a wet one too, our last weekend walk before a month’s lockdown with me working (from home) all week. In the absence of a likely bird year list to chase to continue my record of getting at least one bird year in every month since November 2015 which unlike the first lockdown and the promise of spring species that we did go onto see at home and daily exercise walks like Swift and Swallow, may now go but to have every month for five whole years where I got at least one bird year tick and only a pandemic could stop it I am quite proud of we searched for fungus instead. My Mum and her husband had seen Devil’s finger mushrooms which are well known ones which I never had on a walk out from Bolton’s Bench near Lyndhurst last month and we nearly called in for me to go and see them on the way back from nearby Pig Bush last Saturday but we decided it had got too wet by that point in the day. My Mum said we’ll do it another day but I suppose I got a bit worried the day might not come before this fungi finished. It was nice to see another autumn highlight with yet more pigs out for pannage as we drove in. 

I took the first picture in this photoset of three Collared Doves out the back before we left, we got out taking in great views of a Churchyard area shown in the second picture I took today in this photoset, with some nice autumnal colour in the trees these two car parks are a place we pass so much I’d only walked here once or twice and we often see birds for the first time in a year usually Rook in New Year driving past here and then today set off on foot across a wet looking heath which I took the third picture in this photoset of. It was not long before we noticed two devil’s fingers and at least one more in a sack soon to emerge these shown by the fourth and fifth pictures in this photoset. It was brilliant to finally see my first of these well known, striking and octopus like mushrooms they are also called octopus stinkhorn, they are such a nice colour and shape. I’ve seen many people on social media over the years seen them so it felt good to get in on the act today. They are a very beautiful species. It’s been my best year ever for mushrooms I think and perhaps the icing on the cake was a new species and another headline one and this was it. It was just a shame that when we looked back at them before getting into the car to go home the largest one had been squashed. 

As we walked on a little my Mum showed me some small mushrooms the ones in the sixth picture I took today in this photoset that when she was here before she got talking to Richard from ‘A Year in the New Forest’ a Channel 4 documentary from 2018 which I loved, repeated on More 4 recently who pointed them out to her he is a nature expert and he said these are very rare, the nail fungus or Poronia punctata. I was delighted to then see them today, they are lovely pretty little mushrooms. And you know I am all about celebrating the New Forest for the truly wild oasis it is in this part of the world and a big part of that is celebrating its unique and specialty species, I do this with birds and butterflies a lot and this is a fungus species that the New Forest is the last refuge for in the UK really and it’s stronghold. They are an absolutely fascinating species too, in that they grow on dung mostly ponies and they reproduce as their spores get places on grass and are consumed by the ponies and then the mushrooms grow on the dung when it’s at the right state for them. Really interesting, this is a great article about them: http://www.newforestexplorersguide.co.uk/wildlife/fungi/nail-fungus.html

As we walked on we saw quite a few of my favourite mushrooms the red fly agaric seeing a whole area under trees where loads were including two right next to each other which I took the seventh picture in this photoset of. I loved seeing these I’ve had such a good year for them and indeed one stood in view of the car when parked but the light would not have been so good as it was below a tree so I didn’t take a picture in the end. But before we left I looked at it a lot thinking was this my last taste of a more normal walk at a weekend for a while.

Walking on the rain it was also nice to a Mistle Thrush and some Redwings, as well as the mushrooms in the eighth and ninth pictures in this photoset some little and a nice yellow one. We also in the woods saw a lovely tree once fallen where its branches had now begun to grow up right towards the light. A wonderful reminder of the healer and solution finder that nature really is. I also liked taking in the great view in the tenth picture in this photoset looking into Lyndhurst the New Forest’s capital where we were nearby. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary: Redwing, Mistle Thrush, lots of Carrion Crows and Woodpigeon. 

Another great all-New Forest weekend for a lot of purposes for us. I keep saying it but as we go into this uncertain, worrying and stressful but necessary week and month for England I wish you all, and everyone around the world the best and hope you stay safe. I want you to know I am always here for you all.

#woodpigeon #carrion crow #wildlife #uk #england #world #nature #perfect #rain #water #redwing #mistle thrush #earth #lyndhurst #capital #new forest #happy #favourite #red #fly agaric #fly agaric mushroom #mushroom #fungi #fungus #octopus stinkhorn #devil's finger #nail fungus #poronia punctata #weekend #hampshire

[loveoaths]

@mononoavvare​ asked: for the prompt: 54) things you always meant to say but never got the chance // kimimaro and haku

                                             the death of a bellflower.

it is small, & odd, & misshapen, so of course haku cares for the strange purple flower that pokes through the frost patch by the burial mounds that spring. they brush a pale finger over its bell shaped-cup, the five purple petals forming its mouth. the village elder scowls at it & makes a holy sign with his gnarled wooden fingers.

“It is an ill omen,” the elder hisses. “Crush it and dig up its roots.”

“Chi,” the child says softly, fingers already burrowing into warming earth. when the man disappears down the village path the child tucks the flower into their hakama & runs to the woods. they bury it in their secret spot with their mushrooms & birdbones & fern bulbs & spirit spores. it is their first treasure. one month later the flower inexplicably withers & dies. the child’s tears are interrupted by the discovery of a strange toad. the flower is forgotten. its bulb rots in the earth.

i.

“Zabuza-san. That boy is hurt.” 

small fingers tug the hem of zabuza’s jonin vest. the jonin shoves haku’s hand away & does not stop. the air smells sharp with cold. 

he knows what’s going to happen next. 

“Zabuza-san.”

sometimes he forgets just how strong haku is already. ice needles poke from the earth in front of his feet to trap him in place. the look he pins haku with over his shoulder would make a weak man keel over dead. yet haku just frowns back with those big brown rabbit eyes, & zabuza knows he’s beat. haku has learned to share their mind with him, but when they are bold enough to do something like this zabuza knows there’s nothing for it. haku will do what they want regardless of what zabuza says. he may as well keep it on his terms.

“You have nerve.” the growl comes out as a grumble. glancing over haku’s head he can see the hunched figure limping through the trees, too close to the main road to avoid detection yet clearly hunting something, & poorly. he can smell the blood from here.

a year ago zabuza would have cuffed haku’s ears & told them to move it along. now, he runs his tongue behind the razors edge of his teeth, unimpressed steely eyes meeting haku’s determined gaze. the kid doesn’t flinch. the kid never flinches. even suigetsu would have broken under that gaze. haku watches him calmly, waiting. zabuza scowls darkly, then gives a terse jut of the chin before breaking through the ice with a twist of his ankle. water puddles beneath his sandals.

“I’m not waiting for you.” is all he says before he turns & continues walking. even with his back turned, he knows haku is smiling.

kisame was right. he is getting soft.

fuck.

ii.

“Let me see your shoulder Kimimaro-kun,” haku says a day later, crouching beside their toolkit & travel pack. “I should have asked earlier. Your brand must be hurting you.”

“My what?”

they have grown accustomed to kimimaro’s confusion. even for a kaguya he is especially out of touch, with a naivety that seems incongruous with his family name. privately, kimimaro’s milky wide-eyed stares remind haku of a newborn kitten’s: seeing without discerning. zabuza calls him a liability. haku thinks it’s cute. 

“Your brands. From your master. Take that off. Let me see.” haku removes the salve from their pack & plops down beside him. kimimaro shrugs the fabric from his left shoulder, & - haku falters. there are a few fading scars, but there is no mark.

kimimaro has a kekkei genkai, yet he has never been owned.

haku’s throat tightens. 

“Haku-san? Did you find what you were looking for?”

their fingers itch. pulling his shirt back on, haku numbly brushes a thumb cross kimimaro’s tattooed eyebrows. “There is a small white pot in my bag. Bring it to me. I will need to cover these.”

iii.

“Flowers are beautiful. I am ugly.” kimimaro turns his arm, impassively watching the spire of bone slowly spin & sink back into his elbow. “That is why people are afraid of me.”

“I do not think we were made for beauty Kimimaro-kun,” haku nods, gathering herbs & blooms & setting them in their shared wickerbasket, bumping their shoulder against his. haku knows they are monsters. "That does not mean we cannot appreciate it. Wait here.”

they disappear into the bushes. a few moments later they reappear, a cluster of camellia flowers poking from the basket. they tuck the into kimimaro’s braids. “Maybe we are not pretty, Kimimaro-kun, but that doesn’t mean the world is not.”

kimimaro flushes like a crushed flower. “I think you are pretty, Haku-san.”

haku laughs & peppers more petals in his hair. I think you are beautiful too, haku wants to say. instead they shake their head & point out the herbs they need. kimimaro shows haku how to press flowers between stones wrapped in cord. 

they are silent for the rest of the outing, the only sound in the clearing the rain pattering against the canopy, the occasional mourning cry of a warbler.

iv.

kimimaro smells like blood & looks like a ghost in the moonlight, all white hair & white skin & red violence. he kills without thinking, without mercy, more blade than boy, & as much as haku detests violence they crave understanding, & in kimimaro they find something close to it. zabuza is away on business, so together they kill the hunter-nin in silence, haku’s needles incapacitating the flesh kimimaro’s bones tear through.

from the back, he could almost be mangetsu. darting through the darkness like a wraith, cleaving down every obstacle. though there is no hunger in it, no burgeoning bloodlust or ambition; kimimaro does not kill because he enjoys it. he kills because it is efficient & practical. it is all he knows.  

less like mangetsu, then, & more like hiraku. & yet kimimaro is a mix of both of them, the first two boys to leave their marks on haku’s heart.  

their chest aches. whether it is with grief or relief they do not know.

after, they wash the blood from each other in the river. the grief does not come away clean.

v.

there is no goodbye. there is an ambush. kimimaro is separated. he does not come back. they wait at the rendezvous point for two hours before zabuza looks at them & shakes his head, decision made. they aren’t waiting for him.

haku says nothing. just nods & follows zabuza into the trees, not daring to leave behind so much as a pressed flower. 

in a few years, haku will hardly think of their time together. but that night they press their mouth into their sleeping roll to muffle the sounds of their silent heaves, pale fingers wrapped around a cluster of pressed flowers crumpling to dust in their hands.

mentioned:  @swallowcut​ . @sehnemich​ .

#shit y'all i tried but u can tell i gave up after pt 2 lmfaooo #❛ DRABBLES. #honorable mentiones: kirinokijin and onsha #❛ CIPHER DIVISION / ( answered asks ) #❛ VERSE: EVERY STEP A REVOLUTION ( we carry war on our shoulders ) / traveling mercenary.

[universitychallenged]

University Challenge 2019/20, Episode 30

DON’T PANIC, EVERYONE. Yes, the zombie apocalypse is now upon us, but some things stay on their right and true course. The daffodils are just thinking about coming out – oh no, wait, they came out a month ago – and the darling buds are budding – actually, we saw some trees budding in December – and those flood defences put in place are working really –

OK. It’s all gone to shit. But never fear! Jez and co are here to remind us how little we know, what terrible shirts exist in the world and how NOT to let the losing side down gently.

Manchester: 125

Wolfson College, Oxford: 130

Team Vibe: Manchester: I like these guys. They look a bit cool and raffish, like they might get a bit DANGEROUS after a couple of pints and some crisps, if by dangerous I mean shouting about thermals and fern spores in the street, while giggling and pushing each other.

Wolfson: Lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

Grandad Count: Dear Perrin of Wolfson bringing up the rear and about thirty years, but I forgive him because he tells his life story about living in Japan so benignly in his intro.

Gender Diversity Count: ONE! for Manchester in Johnson! TWO! for Caple and Captain Jones of Wolfson!

Style News: Captain Jones was wearing a hummingbird print shirt, which ticks the boxes, though hummingbirds are a bit default, aren’t they, as birds on shirts go? I’m always on the lookout for arctic terns or shrikes, but H&M never seem to have any. Today, my fave look is sported by Wolfson’s Caple, her simple but stylish blouse adding to her sassy, capable Anne With An ‘E’ vibes.

Cult Hero Of The Episode: As close as the match itself! It was neck and neck throughout, with Captain Green and Captain Jones getting some early starters, and Manchester’s Booth – *FAINT* – serving up plenty of correct science answers. Manchester looked like they had the edge, and then BOOM! in came Caple with a starter to help bring them up to level pegging at 130. Dear God, the tension of the tie break! Jez doesn’t make it any easier, I must say.

‘In 1883, in an attempt to undermine the rise in social democracy, which European political figure introduced the world’s first national health insur –’

BUZZ! ‘Kaiser Wilhelm,’ said Rogers, decisively.

‘No,’ said Jez, pointing a damning finger as Rogers looked stunned, ‘and I’m afraid that’s a wrong answer and an interruption, just, so I’m afraid we’re going to have to take five points away from you, which means Wolfson wins without the inconvenience of having to answer the question.’ Wolfson gave horribly awkward smiles. ‘You win,’ said Jez, as if sentencing them to death. Er, hooray, everyone.

SERIOUSLY though, this week’s Cult Hero goes unequivocally to Rogers, for being brave, goddamnit, and going with his gut! The world needs courage right now (and, frankly, new health insurance), and I applaud him for going for it.

Handsome Person of the Episode: YES, Caple is delightful, YES, Captain Jones is dreamy, YES, Walker is kind of male-model-looking-at-his-watch-thoughtfully pretty, but Manchester’s Booth makes me come over all unnecessary. All his sexy answers about entropies, SWOON. Don't judge him on this screenshot alone, there is just something about him. Is he the HPotE series winner? I THINK SO.

Horror Bonus Round: URGHHHH, video games. I know as little about gaming as Wolfson! I just kept saying ‘MINECRAFT’ to everything.

Regular Music Fail By Composition PhD-owning Composer, Kerry Andrew: Beethoven’s last piano concerto, yes! 2/3 on the Mussorgsky questions, also. The Glasto bonuses were, however, shocking. No probs on the Gary Numan, but I kept saying ‘it’s obviously Bob Dylan,’ when it was actually Elvis Costello. 

Dream Bonus Question Round: Am pretty pissed that the gong went on Scottish lochs. But Romanesque village churches! 

Jezza-Watch: ‘Fanny Burnette?’ guessed the gung-ho Captain Green on Manchester on a historical female author question. ‘Fanny Burney,’ corrected Jez, cold as a motherfucker. The audience gave a conciliatory sigh. ‘No point in sighing like that,’ Jezzo said to them. ‘He was wrong.’ Honestly, he’s like a pantomime villain.

Then there was the fern bonus round: ‘Sorry, pass,’ said Captain Green. ‘That’s correct, but you’re wrong,’ said Jeremy, leaving every man and his wife befuddled. ‘Sori is the right answer,’ he tittered, like a drunk, miserly great-uncle at Christmas. ‘But you didn’t give it.’

Kerry and Mother’s Score: 14 right, with me getting 10, and 85 points altogether.

Brain Food: Roast veggies, cauliflower rice and homemade pesto.

Tweets of the Day:

Please feel free to share, retweet, shout about this blog. I’m mostly a musician but a writer now too, and every little helps. And here’s me on Instagram.

#British TV #british tv quiz #british quiz shows #university challenge #universitychallenge

[professordrarry]

When Taken All Together 2/2

Part one. Happy birthday, Harry and Neville ;) ;) ;) 

“Okay,” Draco said slowly, putting down his fork from the breakfast he’d forced Harry to have in the room. “So, you kissed him. Right before his wedding. And he didn’t take that well? No offence, but letting that turn into a five-year grudge makes you sound a little bit like my father.”

Harry smirked. “First of all, you take that the fuck back. And second of all, I’m not done, idiot. But, you have a class in half an hour and I am supposed to be in London today for Rose’s concert. The rest will have to wait.”

“Are you kidding  me, you great bloody tease?” Draco called at his back as he stood to return to his own room and get dressed for the day.

“Oh, I can do you one better,” Harry said, paused at the door. “Think about it, Draco. Is Neville currently married?”

Draco arched an eyebrow at him. 

“Exactly,” Harry said sadly, leaving the room with a small wave behind him. 

— x - x - XXxXxX - x - x —  

 “So, let me get this straight,” Hermione hissed, rubbing her temples and leaning over her tea mug. “You’re  the reason Neville has called off the wedding?”

“No!” Harry shouted. “No.”

“Harry—”

“Hermione, I’m not. He’s been...there’s been so much doubt in his decision this year, and he just...I think, frankly, that we were always headed here. Isn’t it better that it’s happening  before  they’re married?”

“Not if it’s because you’ve fucked around with his emotions!” she replied sternly. “Harry, I love you, but you haven’t exactly had the best track record for relationships lately.”

“All I did was kiss him,” Harry responded miserably. 

“That’s not what Hannah said,” she returned. “Hannah says you propositioned him, got all dejected when he refused you, and now Neville is a wreck, confused and questioning everything. That doesn’t sound like just a kiss.”

Against his will, the corners of Harry’s mouth turned up, and Hermione — who never missed anything, ever — hit him across the head with the tea cosy.

“You horrible brat. You  did  proposition him?”

“Ow,” he said sheepishly. “Fine. Maybe a little? But only because...Hermione, you didn’t see this kiss.”

“Harry,” she sighed. “Harry, Harry, Harry. Neville, even if he is questioning his sexuality or his marriage or whatever, is Neville. You aren’t allowed to hurt him. You have to stop.”

He glared at her. “He didn’t love her. Anyone could see that. It doesn’t have to be my fault.”

“He turned you down, though. So now it  is  your fault, and also, you have to let it go.”

“Sure,” Harry answered, nonchalantly.

“Oh, god. Harry, what did you do?”

He let a small, lecherous smile cross his mouth, knowing he was going to get another whack and not caring in the slightest. The memory of Neville’s shocked expression, the red that crept up his neck, the staggering away and the promise in even that simple action.

“Not exactly what I did,” Harry admitted to Hermione, tracing a finger along a knot in the wooden table. “More like, what I said.”

Deep down, in his stomach, chest, groin, his body demanded the return of the phrase he explained to Hermione now.

 Eventually, you're going to have to give in,  he’d said to Neville on that high street, the sinful drip to his voice only partly voluntary. And when that day comes, you'd better believe I'll be here to see it.  

— x - x - XXxXxX - x - x —  

Draco was leaning on the edge of the door in Hermione and Ron’s kitchen, technically, under the guise of ‘drying dishes’. He had the towel flung over his shoulder and everything. But since he’d just been throwing a spell at all the dishes Harry held up with his own wand, they’d settled into their current positions instead. Harry was perched on the countertop, avoiding Draco’s gaze.

“Okay, so you broke up their engagement. That’s...worse, I suppose,” Draco said generously. “Still, five years? That’s a long-ass time to be mad when ultimately—”

“Draco. Not. Done.” Harry sighed. 

— x - x - XXxXxX - x - x —  

The term had been in full swing for a week, and Harry hadn’t seen Neville for more than five minutes the entire time. It was obvious that he was being avoided. And for some reason, Harry was extremely mad about it. Finally, on the eve of the first weekend of the school year, Harry marched himself down to greenhouse three and flung open the door. 

“Merlin!” a voice called from within. “Sh—uut the door! Excuse me, can you not  read!”

Harry froze, mid-step, with the door still open, and stared around him; there were a million tiny motes all around him, whirling and buzzing, begging him to stare at them. Neville rushed passed him, sleeves of a dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and ridiculous goggles pushed up on top of his head. He reached out behind Harry to yank the door shut, whirling around again with fury in his every pore.

“Harry, what the actual fuck are you doing! The sign on the door is HUGE! Do. Not. Open,” Neville shouted. “I can not believe you...your selfishness really knows no bounds, does it?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Neville raised a quelling hand and looked around them both, hands on his head in utter dismay. “Don’t speak!” he shouted. “How could you have spilt it everywhere! How?!” 

Again, Harry tried to answer these rhetorical questions, but Neville leapt forward and threw a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. Speak,” he said slowly. “They’ll attune to you.”

There was a moment, a split second of time, standing in the motes, when Harry felt the dam break, when the distance between their friendship closed. There was a moment when Harry knew things were irreparable, and yet perfect. When three years of being coworkers, sharing meals and laughing, drunken nights of confession and apology, when the fact that there was just sheer mutual attraction took over and broke through the mess they’d both created. 

Harry reached up and took Neville’s hand from his mouth. He didn’t speak, kissed the back of the hand that had stopped him instead. Suddenly, there was a workbench behind his back that Harry was hoisting himself up onto. Suddenly, he was grasping at hair and pulling at a shirt that he managed to remove. Neville was dragging Harry’s chest into his own and shoving hands down the back of his trousers, and all the while, their mouths remained silently attached. 

At some point, they ended up on the floor, naked and spent, though Harry honestly couldn’t say at one point they’d left the workbench behind. For a few minutes, Neville lay beside him, silently breathing hard and collapsed on Harry’s robes. Harry reached up and waved a hand through the motes above him. They were beautiful, shining and minute, emanating from a large bottle that lay upturned beside the door.

“Wait,” Neville said, reaching up to grab the bottle and cork it again. The remaining motes floated listlessly, almost effervescent and luminous as they whirled around Harry’s outstretched arm. He turned to ask about them and found Neville’s face panicked and serious.

“Don’t say anything, I’m serious,” Neville murmured, grabbing his arm and pushing it down. “I’ve been trying to tell you about it. They’re spores. Mangliam  Herodotus. Only, mutated. If you talk around them, they imprint on you and…” Neville waved around him vaguely. He inhaled deeply and trailed off.  “Yeah,” Neville added with a sheepish grin. “I understand what it is. I just don't understand why it's sparkly. Come on. We need to talk. Not here. Let’s get inside.” 

Harry smiled again, pulled himself up and threw his shirt at him as he pulled on his robes. He moved as slinkily as he could manage out of the greenhouse, glowing when Neville followed him. He pushed Neville back into the greenhouse wall and kissed him deeply.

“Harry,” Neville protested, suddenly sober and somehow in distress. “You have to stop. You don’t...you don’t actually want to do this.”

“What?” Harry smirked. “I’m pretty sure I already did do this.”

“It’s the spores,” Neville blurted loudly. Harry looked at him in the dim light, puzzled.

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. They’re...addicting. Or at least, they have some sort of… lust property. You and I, we were never meant to actually happen, but then, I told you about the whole ‘I’m bi’ thing, and you came down to tell me that Hannah and I were a good decision regardless, but the spores had already attuned to me. When you breathed them in that day last month, you...well, regardless, you don’t actually want me.”

“Neville,” Harry teased. “You don’t get to tell me what I want.”

Neville sighed, looking pained. “No, I’m serious. You don’t. Come on. I have to get you to the hospital wing. McGonagall's going to kill me.” 

— x - x - XXxXxX - x - x- — 

“Wait. A love potion?” Draco interrupted, deadpan.

“Love spores, actually.”

“Love spores.”

“Trust me. I know how it sounds.”

“Oh, no, Potter, I really don’t think you do,” Draco teased. “So, for five years, you have avoided Neville Longbottom because you fucked him in the greenhouses. Because of love spores.”

“Yup,” Harry replied, unapologetically. “If we speak, we sleep together. It’s...so complicated, I don’t even...look, I meant to tell you, okay? In my defence, I seriously meant to tell you before you started at the school. But we were so happy, and you’re so...you. I just didn’t get around to it.”

Draco stared at Harry, who was still expertly avoiding the gaze, still balanced carefully on the kitchen counter of his best friends’ kitchen. 

“Did you think I wasn’t going to notice that you avoided the only other fit man in the entire building.”

“You think...Neville is…” 

“Well, I’m not oblivious, Harry.” He paused, studying his boyfriend carefully. “So wait...how many times after that first day did you—?”

“Draco!” Harry shouted, throwing a dishcloth at him and laughing.

“I’m just saying...I’m surprised you’ve just...avoided him,” Draco smirked, returning the cloth to the sink.

Harry laughed again and jumped down. “What? Do you think Neville Longbottom is the sort to sleep with someone when they believe they’ve been coerced? Yeah, you really don’t know him.”

“Yeah,” Draco replied, sliding into Harry’s arms. “But still. Five years? That’s a very long time for any magical effect to—”

“First of all, you want to be the one to try and test that? Remember that time I said you were jealous? I wonder how you would feel if you discovered you were wrong about the spores. Drop it, Draco. You have your answers now.” 

For the rest of the evening, Draco did drop it. He ignored the conversation going on around him, too, though. By the time they were walking home, Draco dead silent at Harry’s side, Harry had had enough.

“Alright, out with it. Are we fighting? Because of the Neville thing?”

“What? No,” Draco replied, baffled. He really wasn’t angry.

“Well, then you don’t believe me,” Harry continued.

“Harry, darling. For one thing, you really just aren’t that creative. If you wanted to lie about sleeping with Neville, there were simpler stories. More importantly, though, Hermione told me you were telling the truth.”

Harry huffed. “Fine. What is it, then?”

“I just…” Draco inhaled. Once said, this statement was going to be irreversible. “I think you should check. If the...spore thing is still a thing.”

“Haha, so funny. You’re a hilarious guy, Malfoy.”

“I’m...serious, Harry. You should check. Um.  We. We should check.”

The night was cool and dark, cascading shadows long through the hedgerows. They’d decided to walk to an Apparition point rather than floo, hoping to shake off some of the fuzzy warmth of too much food and drink and good company. Which meant that the moment Harry and Draco’s relationship changed, they were standing under the only streetlamp in Ottery St. Catchpole, staring at each other over dust motes that made Harry shiver even to this day. 

“Draco,” Hary said slowly, turning to him carefully. “Draco, do you mean?”

“I just...it’s just a thought.”

Harry stared at him for what felt like an eternity. “I mean. You’d have to…”

“What?”

“He doesn’t talk to me,” Harry replied simply. “You’d have to ask.”

“Think that can be arranged,” Draco replied faintly. 

Harry nodded once, and continued down the street.

(ps, the smut will only be posted on ao3, sorry)

#drarryville #drarry #harry x neville #draco x neville x harry #trust me #there will be smut

[oaken-evenshade]

The Journey Begins

“Here, you look as if a drink could do you well.”

Oaken looked up from a cluster of bogblossoms to see an oval faced Draenei female lowering a flask to him. He nodded in gratitude and downed the water. It was warm going down but felt good, nonetheless.

“Thank you Tizari.” Oaken stood and pulled his wet tunic out from his chest, trying to wring it out. “It has been raining for five days without a break. I’ve grown so accustomed to being wet I sometimes forget to drink.”

Zangarmarsh was known for its wetness. The life of the marsh thrived from it. The days without rain were always heavy with mugginess. For nearly a year Oaken had been working to help bring balance back to the marsh by restoring endangered fungi and balancing the population of spore bats. Enough time had passed where he forgot what it was like to feel completely dry. Wherever he went, a layer of humidity stuck to his skin, clung to his clothes, and weighed down his unruly hair.

“Ah, but you are not a bogblossom who takes water from ground and sky. You have mouth and throat. Use it.” Tizari said in her thick accent.

She watched the tall Kaldorei take another drink. When he had first arrived many months ago, she had thought him strange and aloof. The first day she escorted him from Shattrath, he said little to her  except to ask if she would “stop the elekk” so he could count leaves on different plants, or trace the pattern of bark on a tree, or follow a beetle to a rotting log. The journey to Zangarmarsh had taken an entire extra day due to his curious ventures. Since that time, she’d come to understand his way of seeing the world around him. She had also come to see that he had helped her see the world differently too.

Tizari smiled at Oaken as his eyes met hers. “I also brought you a letter. It comes from Stormwind” She said.

The two retreated underneath a giant mushroom, sheltering themselves from drizzling rain. Tizari handed the letter over and watched as Oaken stared at it for a moment before opening it. His silver green eyes danced across the letter, his face impassive.

Oaken,

I apologize. This letter is finding you late. Since the fall of Darkshore and Teldrassil, finding information on loved ones has proven difficult. This is the best I could come up with based off the names you gave me.

Mylenra Shadeleaf: Deceased

Darnydel Shadeleaf: No information

Faerthis Thistledew: Rehomed in Stormwind

Treffyndir Wildethorn: Deceased

Eirunis Wildethorn: Deceased

Larkwyn Wildethorn: Rehomed in Stormwind

Shandree Nightwind: unknown

Leonir Evenshade: unknown

I am sorry to send you this heavy news. I will keep an ear to the ground for any updates.

Your friend,

Sora Fletcher

With deft hands, Oaken folded up the letter. “I must go.”

The Draenei’s gaze fell on the folded letter. “You must go?”

“Yes, to Stormwind.” He pulled his satchel over his shoulder and stepped back into the rain.

Tizari followed. “But the bogblossoms and the spore bats…your work.”

“Nature needed a little help finding balance again, we’ve seen it back on course. All that is needed now is a watchful eye. You’ve been with me all this time; I’ll leave everything under your care.”

Tizari picked up her pace to keep up with him. Reaching out, she touched his elbow. Oaken turned to look at her.

“Tizari…I won’t be gone long.”

Three Days Later

Oaken’s skin felt tight as he stepped out of the Mage Tower into Stormwind. The air was lighter, and though some moisture was coming off the near sea, everything felt dry and stale compared to the marsh.

The winding ramp took him down into the Mage Quarter. A nearby group of mage novices were huddled together in the grass. One of them seemed to be entertaining the others by trying to levitate a book. Oaken was so preoccupied with the sight that he did not notice his walkway was about to collide with a well-dressed young man stepping out of a building.

“Watch where you’re walking. You could have knocked me to the ground. And I just got my new doublet. It wasn’t cheap you know.”

Oaken grunted an apology. The dark-haired man looked wealthy in a deep blue doublet with delicate threadwork and exotic embroidery.

As the human sidestepped Oaken and carried on, the elf looked up to see the building the man had walked out of. A sign read “Sagelight Tailoring Emporium”.

Shifting his satchel on his shoulder, Oaken continued on. At the moment all that was needed was an inn.

#wyrmrest accord #rp #The adventures begin

[zrtranscripts]

Season 8, Mission 15: Codified Likeness Utility

Frozen out

~

SAM YAO: Shona, Five, don't you think we've humored Jones long enough now? I mean, that thing up ahead is definitely a bridge made of ice, which isn't something I'd want to cross in the best of times, and this weather is not the best of times!

SHONA REID: Five and I could rush him. He's got a gun, but he's... [sighs] Look at him, Five. He's struggling with that gate to the ice bridge. He doesnae look well, does he?

SAM YAO: To be fair, it does look like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But he's still very dangerous!

SHONA REID: The ice bridge was for tourists. It's three miles long. The people on Dearg Island put chemicals in the metal to encourage the ice to grow around the frame underneath. It's rock solid most of the year except high summer. It's safe.

SAM YAO: Yeah, but... [sighs] Look, what I'm saying is, is Jones safe?

LACHLAN JONES: Come on, all of youse. The gate's open now. Quickly, quickly! Over the bridge. We can't talk here. They're listening.

SHONA REID: Look. That bridge leads to Banbarraig Glacier. None of us ever thought anyone could survive there, but if he has been somehow, don't you see? The Edda could be there. The control box you're looking for could be there. And if he looks likely to hurt us, we can just push him off the bridge

SAM YAO: Well, okay. Okay, Shona, I haven't seen that side of you before.

LACHLAN JONES: Come on! Come on all of youse. We've no time at all. [coughs] I have to tell you what I know before it's too late.

SAM YAO: Too late? Because you're going to murder us?

LACHLAN JONES: [coughs] Too late because I'm dying. Go! Over the bridge! [coughs] Run!

~

SAM YAO: Wow. This is not what I expected. It's more uh, yeah, sort of enclosed, like an ice girder bridge. I can see the wire frame holding it all in place, and... and the frozen zombies with their hands outstretched. Hmm, yeah, nice decor touch.

LACHLAN JONES: [coughs] Freak weather event. Zombies in the water washed up against the bridge, froze in place. [coughs]

SAM YAO: Yeah. Looks a bit like a trifle. Yeah, how you can see all the fruit under the jelly, except zombies... Instead of fruit, you know. So... Lachlan, what did you mean when you said you were dying?

LACHLAN JONES: I mean I'm going to be dead soon.

SHONA: Has it been hard since you came back to the island? You look tired. If you gave yourself up, my dad would -

LACHLAN JONES: Your father would have me killed. He tried to kill me the day I landed my boat. He's scum. The leader of an island of the damned. Shall I tell you something?

SAM YAO: ... oh, you're actually asking. Sorry, I thought that was rhetorical. Uh, no, never mind. Sorry. Yes, yes, please do tell us something.

LACHLAN JONES: The laird told me to come here. Sent me messages, told me everything was forgiven. Told me they knew I hadnae killed your uncle. [laughs] I knew he was lying. That's why I dressed that fellow from the oil rig in my own clothes, sent him onto the beach to meet the laird. That's something the colonel taught me. Test the waters, use a likeness. 

That chappie was afraid, but a poke of my gun sent him in the right direction. I watched from the boat. He stood on the shore looking at me, and when the laird approached... [laughs] He took one look at the fellow and shot him right in the head.

SAM YAO: What? The laird killed the bloke we found on the beach? But why would he - ? No, sorry. Why would he invite you back and do that?

SHONA REID: You can't expect reason from him. His mind is turned. He might even have made himself believe that about my dad. Listen, hen, we believe you! You saw something bad. It made you afraid. Bad things happened on the beach. But we can help. You took things from the oil rig, didn't you? The Edda, and a wee metal box.

[LACHLAN JONES laughs]

SAM YAO: Why is he laughing? Okay, that is actually getting sinister now. Well, more sinister.

LACHLAN JONES: Oh, the wee box? If you knew what an idiot I am... [laughs] If you knew.

SAM YAO: What does that mean?

LACHLAN JONES: See that on the ceiling? That wee black circle? See them lined up along the bridge? Those are charges, my boy. One click of a button from me and the whole bridge blows. So what it means is... [coughs] Best keep moving fast as you can. Oh, come on. Run!

~

LACHLAN JONES: Glacier's up ahead. See that iron door? I've carved myself a wee burrow inside. Just like the ancient Far Hebrideans did. Used a pressure drill, same thing we used to excavate that old mansion on the mainland. [coughs] Cozy nest in no time. [coughs]

SAM YAO: Lachlan... I mean, I know you said you were dying, but have you caught something, or-or something? Like uh... yeah. We're all veterans of the apocalypse, but you haven't been bitten by anyone, have you? Maybe someone you thought was a friend, or-or some internal decoration in this lovely ice tunnel?

LACHLAN JONES: [laughs, coughs] Bitten? Oh, no. Can you bite yourself?

SAM YAO: I mean... well, yeah. Yeah, you can bite yourself. Is that what happened? Because... because we can treat an infection. You don't have to... well, blow up this whole bridge or anything.

LACHLAN JONES: I was an idiot. That's what happened. That stuff I injected into Janine De Luca, [coughs] some of it got on me. Under my fingernails, rubbed my eyes. Must have had a cut. Something. Only realized what was happening a few days ago. [coughs] Those wee beasties are in me now. [coughs] Eating me up from the inside, just like they are her.

SAM YAO: Oh. Right. But I mean, can't you just use that -

SHONA REID: [whispers] Sam, Five. Look behind and up. Not now. Not now. Slowly. Far behind. Up on the ice girders. See him?

SAM YAO: [whispers] Oh. Oh wow. Well, that's the laird. Well, that's your dad. Tracking us.

SHONA REID: [whispers] He's a skillful deer stalker. If we don't let Jones know, Jones won't spot him.

[door creaks open]

LACHLAN JONES: Here we are. This used to be a way station for climbers. But you see? I blasted straight through the concrete into the glacier ice.

SAM YAO: Ooh, looks lovely! Well, it looks liveable. I like how you always do your campfires with the horseshoe of stones around them like that.

LACHLAN JONES: We can talk now. No one can hear us. The laird's not been here. He's the one, you see. I've had time to think about it. When I met you on the mainland, I told you that I'd learned in the Hebrides about how things work. [laughs] 

It's true. I learned how people work. How their hearts and minds can be turned to evil by just one person, one rotten spore, and the bunch turn and the whole thing to corruption! [coughs] That's what the laird has done here. I thought I could make myself king of the rocks and turn it all right again. But there's no time now. Not for me.

SHONA REID: [whispers] Five, Sam, look. Do you see that bag under the table? There's something in it. I can just see the edge, a glint of metal.

SAM YAO: [whispers] No, I can't quite see. It's too dark in here.

SHONA REID: [whispers] I can't listen to more of this about my dad. I have to do something. [cloth rustles and metal clinks, SHONA REID speaks out loud] Hey! I've got your bag here, mister! Want to chase me for it?

[footsteps]

LACHLAN JONES: Shona! Shona! What are you doing?

[door slams]

SAM YAO: Oh God, she's run off down that tunnel. What possessed her? Jones is after her. Five, we've got to stop him. Come on!

~

SHONA REID: Hello! [laughs] Hello!

LACHLAN JONES: Stop! Shona, stop!

SAM YAO: Five, can you see them? These tunnels go off in all directions.

SHONA REID: You can't catch me! You can't catch me! Hello! [laughs] Hello!

SAM YAO: Look, there! Caught a glimpse down the end of that tunnel. She's waving the bag in front of her, trying to bait him. [laughs] She must feel invincible, now her dad's here.

LACHLAN JONES: Shona, stop! You have to stop! Ow!

SAM YAO: He's really ill. Look, Five, he's shaking! I can't understand why he hasn't used the control box to stop the nanites attacking his system. All right. Look. This tunnel I think should lead us around to cut them off. Come on. Let's go!

~

SHONA REID: You can't catch me! Hello!

SAM YAO: That's weird. We've come out into another bridge thing, a bit above Shona and Jones. We're on a sort of ice... balcony overlooking a round cave where she's – oh. Oh no. She's running into this cave, but it's a dead end. He's got her cornered. Shona! Shona, grab Five's hand. Jump up!

SHONA REID: I'll try, but this bag's awful heavy.

SAM YAO: You almost landed on the bag. Are you okay?

SHONA REID: Aye. I'm fine. Five, have you got a wee bit of rope in your pack? You could lift me up.

[footsteps]

LACHLAN JONES: No, Shona. You'll not leave. You can't! [coughs] I can't let you go back to the island! It's rotten to the core. You've no idea what's going on outside there! I've read things. I've seen things!

SAM YAO: [whispers] Five, look above us. The laird's crawling across the top of the bridge. Look!

SHONA REID: Lachlan. Lachlan Jones, it's over now. It's over. You should come home with me.

LACHLAN JONES: It won't be over until everyone on this island is dead. I promise you that. [coughs] While one person remains alive, it can't be over!

SHONA REID: Then you'll have to start with killing me!

[SHONA REID tackles LACHLAN JONES]

SAM YAO: Shona's hurled herself at him! He's fighting her off. Five, we've got to get down there, help her somehow before he kills her – [gunshots] Oh! The laird shot him twice in the chest!

LACHLAN JONES: You don't know what you've done. You've destroyed everything. There'll be no stopping them now.

SHONA REID: I think he's gone.

LAIRD REID: Good riddance, too. I'll just climb down and help you get out, hen.

[bag unzips, cloth rustles, metal clinks]

SHONA REID: Look, in this bag. It's the control box you were seeking, Runner Five, Sam. But look. It's broken all in pieces. That must be why he couldn't use it to cure himself.

SAM YAO: That makes sense. Looks like it got smashed in this bag, maybe by accident after he hurt Janine and before he knew he needed it himself. Still, we should keep it. We might be able to repair it. Come on, Five. Let's climb down, too.

SHONA REID: I can't believe he's really dead. There are so many things I never got to ask him. Five, what do you think that thing was in his hand? Like a clicker. But it's fallen on the floor now he's gone.

LAIRD REID: That was a dead man's switch, Shona. I feared as much. He's wired the whole place to blow. We have to get out of here now! Back the way you came, run!

~

SHONA REID: Look at all this! Look! In his hidden little chambers here, papers and drawings on the walls. Dad! Dad, look! Look, these are the illustrations from the missing pages of the Edda, aren't they? This one of the – of the pomegranate-y thing, I-I've definitely seen that. A medieval monk copied it from the Edda, too.

LAIRD REID: Aye, you're right. You always knew more about the history of these islands than I did.

SHONA REID: This means he definitely had the Edda. It might be hidden here.

LAIRD REID: Take photos of the walls and check everywhere for the Edda.

SHONA REID: Look at this. He's lined up a drawing from the Edda with a map of Mor Island.

[zombies moan]

SAM YAO: Uh, look. Have we got time for this?

LAIRD REID: None of the tunnels are caving in. Maybe Jones' explosive charges were duds.

SAM YAO: Yeah, but uh, what I mean is I think those charges weren't explosives so much as kind of, well, something that makes the ice melt. Because the ice is melting. Look. The walls are turning into water, and the zombie interior decor is turning into zombies!

SHONA REID: Five, help me gather what we can. We have to get out. Go! Run!

[zombies moan]

~

[walls rumble, zombies moan]

SAM YAO: Okay, this isn't good. Zombies ahead, zombies behind...

SHONA REID: The tunnels we just came out of are filled with zombies. The wee ledge we're standing on is melting.

LAIRD REID: And the bridge back to the mainland is collapsing. He must have set thermals or chemical melting agents into the ice. He didn't want us getting home.

SHONA REID: But we will get home, right? Dad.

LAIRD REID: The swim to the mainland is four miles in icy waters. No one could survive above 20 minutes.

SAM YAO: Right. Thank, Mr. Positive! Five and I have been in tougher spots than this and got out.

LAIRD REID: Uh-huh. So what's your plan?

SAM YAO: I'm thinking. Sorry. I'm not good at thinking under this kind of pressure. A plan. A plan! Come on!

[radio crackles]

AMELIA SPENS: Well, if you can't come up with a plan, I suppose I'll have to.

SAM YAO: Amelia!

AMELIA SPENS: Prime Minister Spens to you. And look, I might be tempted to attempt a rescue, but only because I need you to tell me what you've done.

SAM YAO: What we've done? What we've – where are you? How are you here? What's going on?

AMELIA SPENS: Listen, Inspector Rebus, answers to your questions in good time. First, answers to mine. There are circles of red fungus growing in Five Arches Bay, and more to the point, there are tendrils down the whole west coast of the UK now. They come from the ocean. We've analyzed currents, tidal patterns. Where do all those tides originate? Here. When did they start drifting down? On the day you lot arrived in the Far Hebrides. So what the hell have you done?

~

#zombies run #zrs8 #s8m15 #codified likeness utility #zr transcript #zrs8 spoilers

[jedwashere]

A Billion Years Away - Chapter Eight

Raise You Like A Phoenix.

***

Wearing our vintage misery,

No, I think it looked a little better on me,

I’m gonna change you like a remix,

Then I’ll raise you like a Phoenix.

***

U.S.S. Enterprise, on approach to Starbase 93.

Jallistra.

Watching the starbase on the viewscreen on the bridge filled Jallistra with relief, which was surprising, considering everything it represented. Sitting next to her was Thenn, who was scowling more than usual.

“Cheer up, Exec,” she said with a smile. “We got the bastards.”

“You mean we tricked them into leaving,” Thenn replied. “I wish I’d had the chance to get them back for this.”

He motioned to his antenna, which was still shorter than his other antenna, even with the accelerated regrowth that the Doctors had triggered.

“You still might, if we learn anything useful from the data Lorca tricked them into sending us,” Jallistra pointed out.

“Hm,” Thenn grunted, frowning.

“Coming into docking range,” West put in from his station. “Dock control has taken over.”

“Good,” Jallistra said, smiling. “Let's enjoy the ride, people. I think we’ve earned it.”

There were a fair few murmurs of agreement from around the bridge, and even Maria Doe smiled softly, in that mimicking way some Actualised did.

“Something about this still bothers me,” Thenn said quietly after a moment.

“What’s that, Exec?” Jallistra asked, looking at him.

“Lorca,” Thenn said. “How did he know Terran ‘Fleet regulations?”

Jallistra sighed. That was going to be a fun conversation, when she finally got around to having it. “I’ll tell you when we’ve dropped him off.” She gave him a smile. “Don’t want to risk some Admiral getting annoyed at me, after all.”

“Hm,” Thenn grunted again.

***

Lorca.

Dressed in the uniform Laurien had brought for him back on Erlös, Gabriel Lorca was drinking. He had almost nothing to pack, except the old blue uniform Jallistra - Alyn - had given him (which he’d packed more out of respect to the fact that it would have been rude to leave it here: besides, it was probably the most thoughtful gift he’d ever received). And so he found himself with yet another glass of the whiskey the replicator had spat out. Vile as it was, he felt like he needed it - he doubted prisoners would get many chances to drink anything alcoholic at all, even this swill.

Well, he thought, raising his glass, here’s to whatever this shitty future holds.

There came a chime at his door. He sighed, downing his drink in one.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened, and Jallistra stepped in. She smiled.

“Gabriel,” she said. “We’re coming up to Starbase 93 now.”

“Ah,” Lorca said with a smile. “My stop, right?”

“So it would seem,” Jallistra said. She sat on a chair opposite him. “I never got the opportunity to thank you for saving the ship.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lorca said, smirking. Jallistra gave him a withering glare, but the corners of her mouth turned up. “But you don’t need to thank me. It was nice to have people doing what I told ‘em to again.”

“I don’t think that was all of it, though, was it?” Jallistra asked him, her mouth still quirking into a smile. “You had some other motive.”

“Did I?” Lorca asked.

Alyn shook her head. “You like playing enigmatic, don’t you?”

“I prefer the word ‘mysterious’,” Lorca replied.

“I can tell,” Jallistra said with a derisive snort. “You dissemble, you answer questions with questions, and you act like you’ve got a big secret.”

“To be fair,” Lorca pointed out, “up until a few days ago - from my perspective, anyway - I did have a big secret.”

“Not anymore,” Jallistra replied. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

Lorca snorted, folding his arms. “I’m going to a prison cell, so -”

“Not necessarily,” Jallistra said. “There’s a whole host of things they might choose for you instead.”

Lorca scoffed. “Sure. They might get me telling ‘em what toilets were like in the distant past.”

Jallistra sighed. “You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t believe you can. There really are always possibilities.”

“I’m sure,” Lorca said dismissively.

Jallistra sighed. “Well, look. Whatever happens to you, I’m glad to have met you.” She smiled again. “Believe it or not, it’s helped me examine a few of my prejudices.”

“Oh, really?” Lorca said, raising both eyebrows. “What prejudices would those be?”

“About you,” Jallistra replied. “The world you came from, the people it makes. I think… I think that for anyone from my world to judge you by our standards… that’s our privilege showing.”

“Your privilege showing, huh?” Lorca repeated, chuckling. “That’s… certainly a unique way of looking at it.”

“It’s true,” Jallistra insisted. She leant forward. “Tell me something honestly: did you trust anyone in your world?”

One person, he thought almost immediately, but he didn’t say that. She was gone, after all.

“Exactly,” Jallistra said. “Paranoia, fear, hatred, that’s all there is in your world. And love, trust…”

“They go from being the things you look for to the things you never expect,” Lorca interrupted, his expression turning wistful, “and they’re all the more precious for it.”

Jallistra smiled, nodding in agreement. “That’s right.”

Lorca smiled, a real, genuine smile. Though he’d never sought it out, always preferring to dissemble in his universe and having had no choice but to do the same on Discovery, it was somehow nice to be, on some level, understood now.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Captain Jallistra,” he said, rising and extending his hand.

She mirrored his action, grasping his hand firmly. “And you, Captain Lorca.”

***

Waiting rooms never changed. Lorca didn’t know whether he found that comforting or not, but after the first hour or so, he figured ‘not’. After the second hour, he was irritated, and by the time the third had rolled around, he was debating with himself whether getting stabbed by Georgiou was preferable.

The only positive to this room was that it had a window to the interior of the space dock. There were all sorts of ships floating about. Some of them, he had to admit, were ugly - pointy things that had lost all semblance of the saucer-neck-nacelles design that Starfleet kept doing variations of. Others were more beautiful - he caught sight of the Enterprise herself, and found himself marvelling at the way the basic design echoed the Constitution classes of yore whilst still bringing something sleek and fresh to the configuration.

Unfortunately, Gabriel Lorca had never had the patience to be a shipspotter. After a little while, even the amusement of noting the changes in ship design in two and a half centuries had grown thin.

“Gabriel Lorca?” a voice asked.

Lorca turned in his seat, catching sight of a woman in a mostly black Starfleet uniform. The shoulders of the uniform jacket were white, and there was a scarlet stripe across the shoulders directly beneath the white panels. She was roughly Gabriel’s age (or physical age, at least), with short, neat hair and a wry smile on her face. Her rank insignia consisted of five golden pips across the shoulder.

“Hello there,” he said, rising. “I take it you’re the person I’m waiting for.”

“Lizbeth Hayne, Commodore,” the woman replied, extending her hand. “Apologies for the wait. Even in the 26th century, you would not believe the damn paperwork.”

Lorca took her hand: her grip was firm, with a steel that he found refreshing.

“Good to meet you, Commodore,” he said, with a smirk. “Provisionally.”

“Provisionally good?” Hayne said, quirking her eyebrow, her smile widening.

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve got planned for me,” Lorca pointed out, folding his arms.

“True enough,” Hayne said, mirroring his posture. “I suppose that depends which Gabriel Lorca you are.”

Lorca quirked his eyebrows up. “You don’t know?”

She smiled, before lowering her arms, taking a small, boxxy device from her belt and scanning him.

“I do now,” she said, smiling at him. “So tell me: just what is it like to travel using mushrooms?”

Lorca blinked. “You mean you don’t have that now?”

“No,” Hayne said, chuckling. “The displacement-activated spore hub drive was never implemented fleet-wide.” She paused, thinking her next words over carefully. “Too many… issues.”

“Huh.” Turns out Mr Stamets was a failed fungus expert after all. “Surprising.”

Hayne just smiled. “So. If you’d like to follow me: some Starfleet officers have… questions to ask you.”

“Figured as much,” Lorca said, sighing. “May have cheated him for two hundred years but everyone pays the piper in the end, right?”

She still just smiled, and walked off, leaving Lorca to follow.

***

There were three Admirals and Hayne. One of the Admirals was an irritable looking Vulcan whose expression reminded Lorca so much of Terral that he would have been tempted to ask if they were related if they actually looked anything alike. The one in the centre was an Andorian man with a permanent scowl etched onto his face. The last was a woman with pale skin, brown eyes, greying hair and the barest hint of what might have been Klingon forehead ridges.

“Captain Gabriel Lorca,” this woman began. “Late of the starship U.S.S. Discovery. Is this correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lorca replied easily.

“And also an imposter from the so-called ‘Mirror’ universe,” the Vulcan added.

“Now, now,” the woman admonished. “Captain Lorca has the right to know who’s presiding over his trial.”

I think I had the right to know this was a trial, Lorca thought, his eyebrows meeting his hairline.

“I am Va’kor Shon,” the Andorian said without preamble. “Starfleet tactical.”

“Kathryn Paris, exploration and science,” the woman at the far end said.

“Admiral Shunak,” the Vulcan added tersely. “Operations.”

“Nice to know,” Lorca said. “I suppose you all know who I am.”

“Flippancy will not serve you, Mr Lorca,” Shunak said. Lorca felt his smirk drop from his face like a stone. “Impersonating a Starfleet officer is a very serious offence. Even given the length of time it has been, you may be facing a severe sentence.”

Lorca nodded once. Jail cell it is, then. “I understand, Admiral.”

“I hope that you do,” Shunak said, almost frowning. “We have a few questions regarding your actions as the commanding officer of the U.S.S. Discovery.”

Lorca nodded again. “I figured you would, sir.” Always best to be politik. Might just strip me of my rank if I play my cards right. “I’ll answer your questions as best I can.”

“Let’s begin with the obvious,” Shon began. “When did you take your counterpart’s place?”

“Immediately before the destruction of the U.S.S. Buran, Admiral,” Lorca replied at once. He cast his mind back, thinking of the confusion - finding himself in an unfamiliar uniform, surrounded by people who at once were and were not his officers. “There were three Klingon vessels surrounding the ship and boarding it. I was… confused. Uncertain.”

“You were the one who ordered the Buran to self-destruct?” Paris asked.

“I did, ma’am,” Lorca confirmed tersely.

He frowned, remembering the cacophony of shouting, phaser fire and other chaos around him. He looked at one hand, and for a moment he thought it had blood on it. He closed his eyes.

“Captain, what do we do?!”

“Engineering reports multiple boarders, sir, they can’t hold out!”

“The XO is down!”

“They overran our checkpoints at Deck Four!”

“What do we do?! WHAT DO WE DO?!”

“Why?” Shunak asked, and Lorca opened his eyes, surprised to find them watering ever so slightly. “To conceal that you were not the Captain they knew?”

“No, Admiral,” Lorca said honestly, scowling. He brought a hand up to wipe his left eye, staring at the tear absently. Didn’t know I had any left for the Buran. “I didn’t have time to consider that. I was beamed back to the Buran during a stressful situation.” Understatement, Gabriel. “I just did the best I could.”

Shon leant forward. “Did the crew not realise that you weren’t their Captain?”

Lorca laughed out loud. Shunak raised an eyebrow and even Paris looked less-than-impressed, but at that moment Lorca didn’t really care.

“By the time I beamed aboard,” he said, speaking slowly and carefully, “the one hundred and forty man crew of the Buran had been reduced to sixty five. There were over a hundred Klingons aboard, fighting my crew…” He trailed off, sighing. “Fighting the crew deck by deck.” He swallowed. “There was no time for them to make that judgement. And anything I did that seemed out of the ordinary probably slipped by them due to the situation.”

“And so you decided to destroy them to prevent that from happening?” Shunak suggested.

“I decided to destroy the Buran because it was the best out of a pretty piss-poor selection of options,” Lorca corrected, not caring that his curse elicited a wince from Paris or another raised eyebrow from Shunak. “I appraised the tactical situation. I reasoned that there was no escape. And so I decided to self-destruct the ship.”

“But you didn’t allow the crew to escape to the escape pods,” Paris put in. She picked up a PADD and went over some of its contents. “According to your own report, you were the only one to escape.”

Lorca nodded. “That’s correct, Admiral. Standard Imperial policy. A commanding officer must always survive to account for his failures.” He swallowed, remembering more than a few times that he’d accounted for failures in the field. He still had the scars from one or two moments. “I tried to get other members of the crew on the pod with me, but the Klingons were all over the ship. They…” He sighed. “They didn’t make it to the pod.”

“You expect us to believe,” Shon put in, “that the only reason you survived was because you expected to be punished and actively sought that punishment.”

Lorca narrowed his eyes at the Andorian: the same look that used to terrify the junior officers on Discovery. “With the greatest of respect, Admiral, I accounted for all of this when I gave my report to Starfleet back in 2256.”

Shon seemed unaffected by the glare. Instead, he gave a small, vicious smile. “With the greatest of respect, Mr Lorca, you were lying then and for all we know you’re lying now.”

“Then pump me full of Veritrax 12 and get the truth out of me, Admiral,” Lorca snapped. “I didn’t lie then when I told the inquiry board I had no choice but to destroy that ship. I consider it a mercy that I killed those officers, rather than let them be captured.”

Paris took a breath and let it out loudly enough that all the eyes on the room turned to her. She smiled at Lorca.

“Let’s discuss something else,” she said calmly. “I would like to know how long you planned to return to your dimension.”

Lorca nodded slowly. “Truth be told, it was only when I started studying the navigational data from the spore jumps that I started considering it.” Shon snorted derisively, and Lorca threw him a glare. “Up until then, Admirals, I didn’t see how I could return.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Shon asked.

“The offer of pumping me full of Veritrax stands, Admiral,” Lorca said icily.

“So you were content to live your counterpart’s life?” Paris asked diplomatically.

“I was content to be commanding a starship in a war, in the sort of situation that I felt I excelled at, Admiral,” Lorca replied stiffly. “I’ve always prided myself on doing a damn good job, whether as an officer of the Terran Starfleet or as a Captain in your Starfleet.”

“And no one suspected that you were not your counterpart?” Shunak asked.

“Thinking a man’s suddenly turned into a completely different man who looks just like the man he was isn’t exactly high on anyone’s thought processes,” Lorca pointed out with a smirk. At the deadpan expressions on the three Admiral’s faces, his smirk disappeared. “Or at least, it wasn’t then. Everyone my counterpart knew just assumed it was the war. Most of the people he’d been close with were on the Buran anyway.”

“Convenient for you, Mr Lorca,” Shon said.

“Not the most convenient thing, sir,” Lorca replied blithely. “Actually, the most convenient thing was how similar I found my counterpart and I to be.”

“Come again, Mr Lorca?” Shunak said.

Lorca gave him the most condescending smile he dared. “To wit, Admiral, I read my counterpart’s logs and found that I didn’t disagree with the vast majority of his decisions, when I matched them to the context of the rules and regs he followed. He was a maverick, a risk-taker, he developed similar relationships with several officers to me - notably Ellen Landry, who’d served with him before transferring to Discovery as chief security officer. We also had similar tastes in things like drinks, food habits… fortune cookies.”

At Shunak and Shon’s blank expressions, Admiral Paris chuckled. “An ancient Earth confection - a baked one, with a piece of paper hidden within that contains a ‘fortune’, supposedly meant to inform you about future happenings or advise on your current situations.”

I’ve never heard anyone make a fortune cookie sound boring before, Lorca thought glibly.

“I can see how superficial similarities might make your impersonation easier,” Shunak said stiffly. “One wonders if your motivations were similarly alike.”

“My counterpart and I shared a desire to do a damn good job, sir,” Lorca replied, smirking again. “I figured, ‘why not try and make a good thing out of a bad situation?’”

“Your service record aboard Discovery is certainly testament to an aptitude for wartime duty,” Paris said evenly. She picked up her PADD again. “Corvan II, Benzar, the Gagarin, Pahvo…” She paused. “Some of your orders have been a source of some debate in the leadup to this hearing.”

“Is that so?” Lorca asked, his eyebrows once again meeting his hairline.

Shunak picked up his own PADD and looked through its contents. “During the engagement where the Gagarin was destroyed, you ordered Lieutenant Keyla Detmer to place the Discovery between the Klingon attackers and the Gagarin.”

Lorca nodded again: he remembered that moment well. Detmer’s slight hesitation, Rhys’ less than stellar reaction time, Owosekun’s panicked cries as the shields went lower and lower…

“Why?” Shon asked. “Why risk your ship and your crew? By then, surely you must have known you could return to your own reality.”

He had, in point of fact: he had gone through his calculations, determined how long it would take to figure out a perfect roadmap back to his home dimension… so why, then, had he risked everything on an engagement that, surely, he knew was doomed?

“Was T’shen Kovil your friend?” Shon continued.

That was a joke, and Lorca gave a rueful smile. I never even knew the man. T’shen Kovil had been some unremarkable man, obviously skilled enough to get a Shepard-class Starship to command, but clearly not impressive enough to be on anyone’s radar.

“I risked my ship,” he finally said, speaking slowly and deliberately, “because it was the right thing to do. Because it was the only way I could see to protect the Gagarin. Because the Gagarin was full of Starfleet brothers and sisters, whether they were my Starfleet or not.” And they were: they didn’t wear the badge of the Empire, but they fought for what they believed in. They were my brothers and sisters. “I would have died to protect any of them.”

He let that sentiment sink in, and noted with no small satisfaction that Paris and Shon both looked - there was no other word for it - impressed.

“Very well, Mr Lorca,” Shunak said after a moment, and Lorca sighed inwardly at the impassive tone of voice. “Shall we continue?”

***

Lizbeth Hayne.

“The Gagarin was full of Starfleet brothers and sisters, whether they were my Starfleet or not.”

Had he known he was echoing Michael Burnham, Gabriel Lorca might have rephrased his sentiment, but perhaps it was just as well for him that he hadn’t known and hadn’t rephrased. The emotive language had no sway on Shunak, but Shon and Paris had both been impressed enough to vote against him… and in favour of Hayne’s preference.

“You’re sure that he won’t bolt?” Shon asked as a final parting from Hayne’s office.

“I’m not sure about anything, Admiral,” Hayne replied evenly. “But that just means I’m prepared for everything.”

Shon left it there, walking out of the room without another word, and leaving just Kathryn Paris and Hayne alone in the latter’s office. Paris let out a whistle.

“Well, he’s certainly… interesting,” the Admiral said, leaning on the desk. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“I picked nothing,” Hayne said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I didn’t even know which Lorca we’d get.”

“Bull,” Paris snorted. “You knew we’d get this one. Captain Lorca of the Buran was never going to magically appear after centuries.”

“Neither was Lorca of Discovery,” Hayne retorted, though privately she agreed. Their universe’s own Lorca had vanished forever, most likely blown to pieces along with the I.S.S. Buran in the Mirror Universe. “And yet.”

“And yet,” Paris agreed, sighing. “I have to say, off the record, I am still very dubious about all of this.”

“I know what you mean,” Hayne said, smirking. “Here’s a man who commanded a Federation starship, saved Federation lives, and then betrayed her crew and risked their lives so he could lead a coup.” She paused, before tapping a control on her computer. “I want you to watch this.”

She brought up a picture: Gabriel Lorca, his face covered in blood, a smile on his face.

“Saru. It's good to see you,” he said, seeming to stare out at the two women. “I'm glad I got a chance to say good-bye to you, and the rest of the crew. I want you to know that my admiration for you was and is sincere.” Paris quirked her eyebrows at that. “When I look at you, I see the formidable unit of soldiers that I sculpted. If I thought for a second that any of you were capable of relinquishing this cult-like devotion to the Federation, I'd enlist your skills today.”

“We are not interested in your sentiments,” a new voice said, but Hayne cut it off before it could continue.

“They felt betrayed,” Paris said quietly. “Who can blame them?”

“It reads like that from their reports, too,” Hayne said quietly. “What do you think of what he said?”

“Which part?” Paris replied, smiling wryly. “‘Cult-like devotion’ is an accusation plenty of people throw at Starfleet officers.”

“And sometimes, history proves them right,” Hayne reminded her. “I’m more interested in his expression of admiration.”

“You mean, was it genuine?” Paris asked. Hayne nodded, and Paris took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Honestly, barring a mind meld or a Betazoid, I don’t think we’ll ever know. Maybe it was. Maybe it was manipulation. We can’t be sure yet.” She smiled. “We could always do as he suggested and pump him full of Veritrax.”

Paris snorted. “I might take you up on that.” She paused. “So. When are you going to tell him?”

“In an hour, once Alpha-32 arrives,” Hayne said. “She says she’s looking forward to meeting him.”

“In as much as an Artie can look forward to anything,” Paris said derisively. She held up her hands in an apologetic gesture as Hayne turned a stern expression on her. “I know, I know, they don’t like ‘Artie’…”

“I’m surprised at you, using outdated terminology like that,” Hayne said honestly.

“Says the woman planning on employing an outdated officer,” Paris pointed out. “Anyway, some habits die hard.”

“We’d better hope some of Lorca’s habits die easier,” Hayne said with a smirk. “Or we’re gonna be straight up screwed.”

***

Lorca.

At some point, Lorca knew, he would go insane in this Goddamn waiting room. He was at least partially sure it was a tactic designed to wear him down.

Clever, he thought absently.

He had taken to reading up more on history with his PADD. Alien races were an interesting one - there were a few first contacts the Federation had made that were of no surprise to him, such as the Bajorans and Cardassians, but there were some names he didn’t know. He was about to click on ‘The Borg’ when the door to the waiting room opened, and Hayne stepped through, smiling.

“Captain Lorca,” she said, smiling. “I hope the wait hasn’t been too excruciating this time.”

He simply smiled: no sense letting on how frustrated he was.

“Just been catching up on history,” he said, brandishing the PADD. “Pretty interesting stuff.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hayne said. She took a breath, letting the anticipation build for a moment in a way Lorca might almost admire. “I’ve been speaking with the Admirals, and they’ve agreed to go with my recommendation for your fate.”

Lorca quirked his lips in an almost-smirk. “Which is?”

“That you be given a command and put to use,” Hayne replied, smiling. “Suffice it to say, Captain, there are no ‘free rides’ in our fleet.”

Lorca almost laughed at that, the echo of his own words to Michael so long ago tickling him, at least until he remembered Michael’s last expression.

“You’ve got practical skills,” Hayne continued, not noticing or caring about his thoughts, “and we intend to put them to good use.”

Lorca blinked, surprised. “My ‘skills’ are two centuries out of date.”

“Space hasn’t magically stopped being space, Captain,” Hayne said, folding her arms. “We’re not asking a sailor to fly a starship, we’re asking a Captain to be a Captain.”

Lorca digested that for a moment. “What ship?”

Hayne smiled. “An old Exeter-class ship they were going to decommission, at least before I made a case to keep her on. Based loosely on the Constitution-class you’d be familiar with. We can have her optimised for your preferences - even pick a new name for her, if you like.”

Now that all sounded very enticing. “What’s the catch?”

“Reporting to me, doing the missions I tell you, and letting me pick the majority of your crew,” Hayne said at once, still smiling. “But you’ll find me a lenient taskmaster with a lot of ‘fly without portfolio’ missions on my books for a Captain that puts me in a good mood, and I don’t pick dud officers.”

Lorca nodded slowly. He preferred picking his own crew - always had - but he could sacrifice that for now if it meant some measure of freedom.

“I assume it’s this or a penal colony,” he said flippantly.

“I happen to know that Admiral Shunak was sizing up a lovely cell in New Zealand,” Hayne said glibly. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Not at all, Commodore,” Lorca said with a grin. “I’ll take the command.”

“Excellent,” Hayne said. “One more thing: I’ve a candidate for your XO that I think you’ll want to meet before you see your ship.”

Lorca folded his arms. “Alright?”

Hayne smiled, before tapping her combadge. “Commander Alpha-32, please come in.”

A moment later, a woman entered the waiting room. She wore the same red uniform Commander Thenn had on Enterprise, with three shiny gold pips pinned to her collar. Her skin was dark, with neatly combed, nearly-black hair. She had a neutral expression on her face as she came to stand in front of Lorca, her hands folded crisply behind her back.

“Captain Lorca, sir,” she said, her tone formal and polite. “It is good to finally meet you.”

Lorca’s mouth fell open, and he gaped at the officer in astonishment.

She was the spitting image of Michael Burnham.

***

A:N: Yeah, this was a plot twist I couldn’t resist.

#star trek #lorca redemption arc #captains are cool #captain lorca #gabriel lorca #fan fiction #star trek discovery

[felldragxn]

Log 1:

Jastira Vamaris. XX of XX, year XXXX. Soon after many of our younger citizens made their exit from Ethir in hopes of seeking knowledge beyond our walls, we were forced to close ourselves off from the outside world. An invader from Dalvensus, perhaps once intimidated by our numbers, seems to have wandered close… It is some sort of plant-like creature that is hard to describe. It seems like it has not fully bloomed, and for the sake of not allowing an infection to spread throughout the tower I have isolated it in a container from which it cannot escape. Those who found it have been instructed by the higher-ups not to mention it - it could be a scout, and we don’t want to cause any sort of panic among what remains of our citizenry.

...I… well, to be quite honest, I’m a bit amazed to have a live sample in our grasp after all this time. Previously they were killed on sight, but this subject seems to have put up little fight and, and I believe my pleading finally got through to one of the guards. One of the night guards, what was his name… He always gives me this look like he’s interested in my work… Aelin? No matter, no matter, I’ll deal with that later. I have to focus, and I may be getting carried away… Ahem.

As many of my younger assistants have left, it has been mostly Mona - er, that’s, Illimona, the one who transferred over from…. nevermind - and, well, myself. I have other assistants, but they have been rather busy in different points of research, you know. The fewer people who know about this, the better, though, and Mona is sworn to secrecy. Wouldn’t say a peep. We’re both very excited to get on with our research, but of course the higher-ups have to… They have to determine it’s safe to do anything with the damned thing. We don’t know how aether will affect a creature made from, from aetherical disturbances, you know! So in the meantime I’ve been examining it, but, but it doesn’t have any particularly interesting behavior so far. It has been extremely passive, leading me to uncertainties about that “scouting” theory I mentioned… I did mention that earlier, correct? Yes, well, if it’s a scout it’s not an especially good one. I don’t understand why it’s a plant monster, either.

Log 2:

Experimentation still not approved. Should be within the next couple of days, they said. What if it needs to eat? What if it dies before I can do anything on it? However, I’m no fool - we could capture another one alive eventually, we have nothing but time. Our surrounding allies have finally caught word of our closed borders, so the Seere is sending word of our reasons by means of their little aether pets, the… whatever they’re called. Ahem.

I spoke with Aelin last night, you know, and asked if he’d caught the damn thing alive just for me. But he said it didn’t even put up a fight, after they knocked it off the tower - it’d been climbing up, you see, and was uncomfortably close to the peak when they found it. None of the guards on the lower levels reported anything out of the ordinary, so I’m curious as to how it got so high while completely invading detection! The Seere is taking this breach in security very seriously, though, so, um, we put barriers up that will detect if anything living enters the tower or the surrounding area. It caught a fisherman who we had to kindly turn away, all the way from Urion! I know some of my students headed over that way. I wonder how they’re doing…

Sometimes I look at the thing. It’s barely moved. I don’t think it has eyes, but I feel like it’s… it’s staring at me? I threw a sheet over it.

Log 6:

Jastira here again, you know the drill. Experimentation approved - Mona? Can you come here so I know it’ll pick up your voice? (Yes’m.) Excellent, excellent. We’re doing the most basic of aetherical tests today, running a current through its body - without damaging it, of course. I’m worried pure aether will kill it, as it is, but I don’t… I don’t exactly have access to corrupted aether. (Only in Dalvensus, Jas. Are we good to go on this, or-?) Hold on, hold on.

Ahem, so this is test one. We’ll see if it reacts at all. Five seconds.

…

…

…

N...Nothing? Nothing. All righty, but it’s still alive, right? Its vitals haven’t changed, we haven’t detected any change in aether balance yet…. The aether we have stored is uncorrupted, strangely. (For the sake of the recording: I’ve made sure it filters out, so it doesn’t ruin the whole batch. If it gets corrupted we’ll have to immediately ship it off to assure its gotten rid of.) Yes, yes, but it’s surprisingly fine so far. The creature itself seems rather low-level, to be honest, I’m not sure if we’ll get much out of it. (Unlikely a scout, if that’s the case, so why send it all this way? Did it wander off a pack and end up at the nearest settlement?) Who knows! That’s what’s exciting - we’ve never directly dealt with the stupid things! But, but of course, we must take caution. It could be a ruse. (Are they that intelligent, even?) It’s impossible to tell, you know. But we have to be careful.

Log 14:

We’ve been filtering through the same aether, just…. Just normal aether, direct outta the earth. I’ve switched up the batch a bit, since so far no amount has had any reaction. I’m… Mona is out, today, because a few of the guards have gotten sick, so she’s taken over for one. Must be something going around. Aelin’s been sick, too, and I.... I can’t help but have a bad feeling. I don’t want to say it, but if this doesn’t work… you know. I’ll probably just kill the damn thing. I’ll say it… I’ll say it died or something. I don’t know. I don’t have high hopes, honestly, but this will have been a learning experience nonetheless. If aether doesn’t hurt the damn thing, that renders some of the more pure magic types a bit useless, doesn’t it?

Ahem, so, this… this batch is human-based aether. I want to see if it reacts to people. So, test… test seventeen? Yes, final test. I guess final log in this particular experiment file, if nothing goes according to plan. There’s not really a plan, I guess, just… you know. Ten seconds.

…

O-Oh! It’s blooming! That’s not good, is it? It’s a bright red sort of color, it’s…. As the aether goes into it, the flower gets bigger. Growing out of its head. Its vines are growing. A-Ah, the aether went off, and now it’s --

Log 15:

T… There was an issue. It got… it got too big for its container, damn thing cracked, the guards came and killed it after I pulled the alarm. I was hiding under the desk. I’m still hiding under the desk, pondering. That was like, it was like, an hour ago? An hour ago. They took the body away. If the aether in people makes it grow, perhaps it devours people, and maybe it hadn’t so it was… it was weak, or something of the sort, it was-- Ah-ah, somebody is banging on my door… Who is it?

(J-Jas, please open the door, please-)

Mona?

Log 16:

[There is static. Nothing but static.]

Log 19:

XX of X, XXXX….

I am changing. I can feel it. I’m beginning to see it. My eyes are so red now, they’re so… and my veins… It’s been… How long has it been? It’s been a few weeks… It’s been a few weeks and I’m shut up in my lab… They don’t try to get in here, I don’t… I can’t think straight…

Aelin… him and the other guards… They were sick, they were sick because… it was weak because it had already released its spores. It didn’t release any spores before they killed it. But the spores… they… they just burst out of its…. Body… I’m so, so tired…. They don’t try to get in… but they know I’m here…

I’m going… all the way to the bottom of the tower…. The bottom levels… If I turn on the… the emergency… god, they’ll kill me before I make it there… they’ll kill me…

#long post #v.Hiraeth #((Ethir didn't have a good end

[linoholic]

Poly!Changki

Requested: Hello! I just read your Poly!Kiho thing and I was wondering if you could do another one with Wonkyun and maybe one with Changki?? Can I request two at a time? I don't know if you write smut, but maybe, if you do... could you include some of that too?? If not, that's totally fine! Thank you in advance! 

Pairing: Monsta X Kihyun x Changkyun x Reader 

Warnings: minor blood, violence and sexual themes; hints at death (its an apocalypse after all)

This is some sort of apocalyptic, dystopian "Last of Us" au. I had to use the infamous Changki gif I'm sorry not really. It also inspired this au as a whole tbh.

...this was meant to be a normal poly!au head canon thing, but turned into a longer story thing. Other requests are being written as inspiration comes, I swear. I just have a lot less time on my hands than I expected.

The year is 2018 and it has been eight years since the outbreak

In 2008, some place in the Amazon, scientists discovered a new type of fungus

Nothing unusual considering hundreds of new species of various things are being discovered, so no special precautions were taken

Which turned out to be a mistake, because suddenly all workers in the lab were not reporting in, not a single person in the small lab having left the place in a week

Until one did

But she wasn't... completely normal

She was lucid, yes, but she was coughing and throwing up blood and what seemed to be...fungal spores?

Of course, she was rushed to the hospital and put in quarantine

But that wasn't enough

Pretty soon the hospital was infected

Then the neighbourhood

Then the city

And before anyone knew it

It had spread globally

World leaders declared a worldwide epidemic and borders shut down, quarantine zones were set up

There were 21 zones in South Korea, all holding what was left of the countries population 

Or at least, the legal population

Because of course, there are people who have survived on their own outside of the zones, in No Mans Land (called NML for short)

But is in one of these zones that you had been living or the past eight years

In the suburbs of Seoul stands Zone 6, with a population of 3412

You had been sharing a small apartment with 3 other people

Your family were all gone, as were your friends

But you were still here, living for them

Everybody in the zones had a role to play

Even children helped out, usually helping in the growing of food

You are a guard yourself

Or well, guard in training

But still, not everybody was equal

Especially in Zone 6

Corruption was everywhere, you had witnessed it for yourself

Those in charge, the government and the police, the guards

They always got more rations

Whereas the people who worked their arses off to stay alive, to be able to keep living in the Zone, were looked down upon

You often witnessed guards bullying people out of their ration coupons

Or using their power to abuse people

The higher ups were living in comfort while everyone else was barely living

People that showed any sign of sickness, even a simple cold, they were stripped of their rights and passes that allowed them to live there and were chucked out into NML

And people that did the simplest thing wrong were also left to fend for themselves, or chucked into prison for ages and basically starved

And that was simply at the beginning of the outbreak

Since then it had gotten a lot worse

The guards were armed and trigger happy, extreme rules and curfews were put in place

To put it simply, it was oppression

You often gave your coupons to families with children to feed, only keeping enough to get by

And if you ever witnessed anyone abusing their power against someone, you would interrupt, using a pretty smile and acting clueless to distract them while the person got away

Despite being a guard, one of those that the normal folk hated, people came to trust you

And so you were often privy to all the whispers that circulated the population

So when you heard whispers of an organisation only known as "The Clan"

You were intrigued

From what you had heard, it was a group of seven people that had been stealing food and other resources and giving it to the people who needed it

Basically keeping people alive

But nobody who knew they were

They always wore masks and did everything anonymously

Even their genders were a mystery

But they were revered by everyone, being called the new Robin Hoods

Well, everyone except those in charge

Orders were sent around to find them which is when the raids started

Anybody thought to have information on The Clan were investigated, their homes turned upside down and questioned with force

But people didn't cooperate

If The Clan saved your mother by getting her the medicine she needed, or your too skinny son the food he deserved, would you give them up?

And even though you were a guard in training, you didn't cooperate either,,, well,,, not obviously

But you made sure you got onto most of the raid teams and made sure homes weren't too messed up; or kept quiet about any contriband that might have got someone trouble

You also messed around with paperwork, switching up names and dates and helping to get people out of prison earlier, or even completely wiping their records sometimes

And your efforts did not go unnoticed

It was Minhyuk who first took notice of you and your work

The apartment beside his was being raided, the man thought to have been holding illegal weapons, to be smuggled to the people in NML

Which wasn't false; the man was a smuggler and a contact of the Clan

Minhyuk himself was in the apartment and had seen the case of guns, right out in the open in the bathtub, not having been hidden yet, he was the one that had given them to the dude

So when he saw you walk in the bathroom, he was preparing for the worst

His face had drained of colour, and he was holding his breath

But when you walked out, shouting an "All clear!"

It is safe to say he was confused, even more so when you caught his eye and winked before leaving with the rest of your squad

And when be heard you turned up half an hour later at the same apartment to help the man tidy up and apologize for the inconvenience

Well, now he is intrigued

So of course he tells the rest of the guys about you

And they do some research on you

Jooheon asks around about you and it comes to their attention that you are a sort of rebel figure to the people

He hears stories about you, about how you got people out of prison, about how you stopped so many from getting beaten, about you starving yourself to instead feed the neighbourhoods kids

All the while staying inconspicuous and under the radar

In fact, a lot of things that the Clan are credited with are actually the work of you

And so Shownu makes the desicion to talk to you

One day, after your shift, you go home intending to go straight to sleep when you see an envelope sitting in the center of your pillow

It is completely unmarked, only your name written on the front

You are kind of hesitant to open it but in the end curiosity wins you over

Inside is a single piece of paper and much like the envelope it came in, it is completely bare save for the address in the center, below it a time is stamped

And considering there is no date, you can only guess that it means today, or well, tonight considering it says 23:45

But it is a while till nightfall, and so you decide on having a small nap til then

As the time approaches, you wake up from the nap and get dressed in all black clothing with a mask covering your face and a hat covering your hair to conceal your identity

You have no idea who sent you the note or what they want from you; so you intend to stick to the shadows and scout the place out

The address turns out to be an old warehouse right on the edge of the zone, the wall into NML being visible from its position

Approaching the building, you see the faint glow of candlelight flickering through the broken, vine covered windows

Using various boxes and dumpsters to your advantage, you climb up to those very same windows, peering in

Sitting around a low fire in the middle of the large space are what seems to be five men; one of which you recognise as being in the apartment from before

Looking around a bit more, you notice two more men standing by the warehouse door, obviously waiting for someone to arrive (that someone being you)

And so instead of doing what they expect, you instead decide to climb in through the window, entering on your own terms

Thankfully there isn't much of a drop and you manage to lightly land on your feet, avoiding any glass that may have been on the floor

The men keeping the fire low so as to avoid detection from outside also works in your favour, as it means you can creep up on the group in the darkness

As you get closer to them, you start to pick up on the conversation they are having

"Are we sure this is a good idea?"

"We have been doing what we can but it isn't quite enough, Changkyun. Having someone on the inside is too good of an opportunity to miss."

"We could know the guards schedules, where they keep their stashes and all that. Imagine how helpful that would be for us."

Hearing their conversation, you come to the realisation that it is these guys

They are The Clan

And so you relax a little, and decide to interrupt their little get together early

"Well, I guess I know why I am here then, don't I?" You announce, stepping into the firelight and consequently, their vision

In less than a second the five have jumped up and are pointing various weapons at you, and the other two come running over at the commotion

You pull your mask down and hat off, and the guy from the apartment and the one with the dimples immediately relax, motioning for the others to lower their weapons

"It's alright. This is them. Y/N," Dimples tells the rest and straight away one of the bulkier looking dudes steps forward, hand out

"It's good to finally meet you. I'm Shownu. And this is Kihyun, Hyungwon, Minhyuk, Changkyun, Jooheon and Wonho."

"Pleasure. I guess you all know my name."

And so you all sit down around the fire, and that is the start of your relationship with the Clan

At first you are just an informant for them, their insider in the police

But pretty soon you become one of them, and the Clan goes from seven members to eight

You get close to them all, finding out the reasons as to why they created this little rebel group, which span from the sad stories to Changkyun's "I was bored"

With your help finding out guard schedules and passwords to storage rooms and the like, the Clan becomes less of a thorn in the governments side and more like a knife in their leg

And under your influence, more and more people are rebelling and rising up against those in charge

Months go by with you rebelling against the system with the Clan

And they still have no idea who is behind it all

That is, until one day when you are on one of your usual, boring, patrol assignments

It is around midday and you are just walking the streets when suddenly you hear a commotion up ahead

Running towards the sounds you are forced to a halt by what you see

Being dragged out of a house and thrown onto the cement are two men, guns held by guards being pointed at them

Sadly an all too normal sight these days

Instead, what has your eyes widening in shock is the fact that you recognise the men

It's Kihyun and Changkyun

Before you can react any further, they have been dragged off

Looking up, you meet Shownu's determined look from across the crowd and nod at him, your expression mirroring his

Unfortunately you can't act right away; it would be too suspicious and you would be of no help at all

And also, they would be surrounded by various officers for a while, as they were interrogated

That night, with hurried steps you make your way to the police headquarters, easily making your way into the holding cells

Like you suspected, they had obviously not managed to get any information from the two and had given up for the night

And stupidely, they had left only two guards on duty and it was quite easy to knock them out

You hurry down into the second level of the basement where they keep the... more important... of prisoners

As you turn the corner what you see makes you gasp

Sitting in cells opposite each other, tied up to chairs are Changkyun and Kihyun

Kihyun immediately notices your presence and you run over to the cell door, unlocking it (with keys you stole from the incompetant guard) and rushing towards him

You take note of the split lip and black eye on his face before untying his bonds

He squeezes your hand in thanks before you both hurry over to Changkyun's cell, unlocking it and kneeling by him

The boy was still out of it, and you saw dried blood on his face and matted in his hair, and who knows what sort of injuries are hidden by his clothes

"He got the brunt of it all. Idiot decided to be his usual cheeky self and they didn't like that at all"

Despite his words, you see the worry and fondness on Kihyun's face and you take his hand

"It will be fine. He will be fine."

Kihyun looks at you and nods, and you get to untying the younger of the two while Kihyun tries waking him up

As he comes to, Kihyun starts fussing over the boy but you quickly hush him

"Come. We need to hurry while it is still dark."

Kihyun nods and the two of you help Changkyun stand up

It is obvious that he had been kicked in the leg by the limp he sports, and so you and Kihyun support him all the way out the station (which is much easier than it should have been)

The closest place is the small house Shownu and Jooheon share, and so the three of you slowly make your way there, sticking to the shadows and avoiding any guards you see

Shownu is shocked by the sight of you three on his doorstep and he quickly calls Jooheon and tells him to get the other guys to the warehouse, who runs off into the night as told so

Shownu takes over supporting Changkyun and together the four of you head towards the warehouse

After what seems like years you arrive at the building, the others already there

Wonho comes and helps bring Changkyun over to one of the old scavenged couches and Kihyun is quick to tend to him while you talk to the others

It is quite obvious that none of you are safe staying here, they know Changkyun and Kihyun, the two knocked out were your colleagues and know you helped break them out

And the others probably aren't safe for much longer if they found two already

So as the others plan, you take a seat besides Kihyun, who has finished patching up Changkyun and take the wet cloth in his hands and wipe at the blood on his face

Over the course of the night, many different plans are discussed

And finally one is decided on

Kihyun, Changkyun and you will stay in the warehouse for the next few days while Changkyuns leg heals, before the three of you sneak out of the zone

The boys have some contacts in NML that you will stay with, at least for a while; four women named Soyou, Bora, Hyolyn and Dasom who had left the quarantine zone a year before

The other five will slowly smuggle supplies out of Zone 6 for a few weeks before joining you all in NML

Because as much as you would all love to stay and help people still, being locked up, or worse, dead, would not be helping anyone

And so the five take their leave

They all have jobs to attend and it would look too suspicious if they miss them

As the sun rises and starts filtering through the cracked windows, bathing you all in a golden light, the two boys start drifting off to sleep, obviously exhausted by the nights events

As the next few days go by, the others filter in and out, stockpiling supplies; and you see Kihyun and Changkyun's bruises start fading and cuts healing over

Soon enough Changkyun can walk and run perfectly fine, which signals the time for the three of you to leave

It is a three day journey by foot to the Starship Hotel, the home base of Sistar as they call themselves

And that is if you were walking nonstop

The boys do have access to a car, a pickup, but you agreed to leave that for the others so that they could easily transport the supplies they smuggle out

Hugs and promises of meeting again soon are exchanged between the eight of you

"Stay safe and out of sight. Remember, guns are only a last resort. You don't want to alert the infected," Shownu reminds you

"Yes Dad," Changkyun teases and you all share a laugh, the last laugh the eight of you will share for a while

Before you know it, night has fallen and the wall to Zone 6 stands behind you, now a distant reminder of the years you spent living in relative safety

Now the dangers of No Mans Land face you

The infected, bandits, cold, hunger, thirst

But the three of you have each other for now, and soon the rest of the Clan and Sistar will join you

For miles and miles the three of you walk through streets and buildings being reclaimed by mother nature

For three days you manage to travel without incident, avoiding groups of infected, killing a few stragglers here and there when need be

Now only three more days away (thanks to delays due to hordes and inaccessible roads), you all decide to rest for the night in an old school

They were the first places evacuated during the outbreak and as such usually have hardly any infected in

You and Kihyun have a good laugh when Changkyun stumbles after killing one of them, tumbling into a store cupboard of the old school and walking out covered head to toe in paint of every colour

He gets you back by smothering you both in hugs, getting you both covered as well

After clearing the rest of the building, you find the old gym and though you aren't expecting anything, you decide to test out the showers

But suddenly, you are sprayed with a shower of water and you let out a loud shout, quickly turning it off

Kihyun and Changkyun come running in, weapons raised, only to find you grinning and clapping your hands in glee

"Two of the sho-"

That is all you can get out before the two are dropping their bags and rushing over to you, clothes being dropped in a trail behind them, you following in their footsteps and shedding your clothes

You don't know how the showers are still working, but even if it is only cold water coming out of them, you don't dare question it

Instead you turn the two showers on full blast, thankfully they are right next to each other and the three of you stand under the combined stream of water

There is no time and place for shame in the apocalypse, instead the three of you are just glad to get rid of the paint and dirt built up from walking

Nothing...intimate happens either

But it is very intimate in simpler terms

You and Kihyun help Changkyun wash off the paint that he can't reach

And you share your precious apple bodywash you had...aquired back in Zone 6

And when you had finished showering and had washed your clothes

The three of you huddle together under a big blanket for warmth as you sleep; letting your clothes dry through the night

After that night, the relationship between the three of you changes slightly

Skinship shared between you is less platonic

Fingertips linger on arms when pulling the others out of sight of infected

And the nights are now spent together..."for warmth" as Kihyun claims

And then finally you arrive at Starship Hotel

Out the front in a wide arc, creating a perimeter, are various traps and spikes to keep out anything -or anyone - unwanted

The building itself is a fancy looking place

You can only imagine how nice it would be without eight years of disrepair 

A few hundred yards behind the building is a pretty looking woods

Before you can inspect the area any further, a woman comes walking towards your trio

"Well well! Look who we have here! What are you doing out of the Zone? And who is this with you?" The woman questions, smilely brightly at Kihyun and Changkyun

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you."

"You too. Well. Follow me. We'll meet up with the others then if you want to explain why you are here, well, our ears are open"

She leads you all into the hotel lobby and towards the elevators

The three of you share shocked looks upon seeing the working lift and when Hyolyn turns around and sees your faces, she laughs brightly

"We have solar panels and petrol generators to keep electricity on, though only on this floor and the top two floors, which is where we mainly keep to."

The four of you trail into the lift and as the doors open on the top floor, you are greeted by Bora, Soyou and Dasom

After exchanging pleasantries and introductions, they lead you into one of the penthouses, where you all sit around the dining table and Kihyun took control of the conversation, explaining the events right from the time of you joining the Clan

"You still have no idea how they found you? Well. Anyway. I bet you're all exhausted. There are plenty of rooms to choose from. Though I would suggest the floor below, especially if you want hot water and electricity"

Your trio gives your thanks before heading down a level, filtering into separate rooms

The sun is setting as you step out of the shower

You spent longer than you usually would've under the water, but the draw of a hot shower without being timed, like in the zone, was far too tempting

It is the same with the bed

It is much earlier than the time you usually sleep, but after a week of sleeping on the ground with one eye open, the comfy pillows were calling your name

Even so, you were lying in bed for an hour and a half with sleep nowhere to be found

And then it hit you

For the past week you had gotten so used to being around Changkyun and Kihyun that it was unnerving being alone for so long

So you get out of bed and head out of your door, before immediately bumping into another body

A cocooned Changkyun stands before you, and no words need to be shared before you are both trailing into Kihyun's room

He is fast asleep in the middle of the bed looking adorable and you and Changkyun share soft smiles before sliding in under the covers either side of him

He wakes up at the movement, but does nothing except pull you both into arms

That night the three of you get the best nights sleep you have had in a while

Not only are the beds a hundred times more comfortable than anything back in the zone

But you also don't have to worry about being snuck up on by anyone, or waking up for lookout duty

And although the room smells musty from years of disuse and there is a constant whistling sound coming from a crack in the window

Laying on Kihyun's chest with his arm wrapped around you while Changkyun fingers are entwined with yours definitely makes up for any downfalls

Now you're at Starship, you have two weeks til the others are set to join you

During this time you get to know other people who stay at the hotel such as Kim Hyungsoo ("call me K.Will"), Donghyun, Hyunseong, Jeongmin, Youngmin, Kwangmin, Minwoo (aka Boyfriend) and a large group of lovely girls that jokingly call themselves 'Cosmic Girls', as well as a man known only as Mad Clown

All people that Sistar invited to stay at the hotel

You, Kihyun and Changkyun easily become part of the tiny community

Kihyun tends to stick to the kitchens, somehow managing to turn the most basic supplies into delicious meals, and also spends a lot of time in the gardens behind the hotel where food is grown

Changkyun helps to keep the place running; his smarts are put to good use keeping the lights on and water hot; and he also helps Hyolyn on guard duty

And you, being light on your feet and quick with a weapon thanks to guard training get put on hunting duty

Despite your different jobs, the three of you always come together during any free time

Usually you and Changkyun congregate in the kitchens, sitting on the counters and annoying Kihyun

And the three of you just get closer and closer

Ever since the night in the school, your relationship has definitely been more than that of just friends

But none of you have done anything or said anything to actually define your relationship, to put a label on it

It's a sort of skinny love situation

You all know you like each other

You all flirt, and you and Changkyun haven't yet slept outside of Kihyun's room

But it isn't until the day before Shownu and the others are due to arrive that anything happens to change that

You had been out in the forest overnight hunting with Bora

You had been tracking a deer for a while now and had almost caught it when out of nowhere can a group of infected stumbled into your path

Now, while they aren't zombies, who only exist to search for and eat flesh

They do kill, and are pretty fast and very dangerous

Even the most competent person needs to be careful when killing them because of the spores that can release from their bodies

So when you see the first one stumble through the trees you pull Bora back by the arm, intending to just quietly kill it

But then another one appears, and another

Suddenly there are six infected approaching you, still unaware of your presence

Now, usually in situations like this you would keep quiet, letting them pass

But they are headed straight for you and it is just your luck that the two of you are stood at the top of a small cliff, about 15ft high

And so you have no choice but to fight

Thankfully, Bora has a bow she uses and so two infected are down before they even know you are there

But suddenly, you are being rushed by five more and you have your machete out and are relying on your instincts to keep you alive

Two more are down easily; Bora is taking care of one while you have two on you

And it is going well

You have just killed one when the last one lunges at you with more force than you were expecting and the ground under your feet gives way and suddenly you are tumbling backwards

Rocks fall alongside you and branches break as you crash through them

And then you come to a stop

Your vision fades in and out of darkness and your ears are ringing

You feel something warm dripping down your face and you can vaguely hear Bora shouting your name as she finishes the infected off and carefully slides down the cliff

"Can you hear me? Stay awake y/n."

You nod slightly, forcing your eyes open and Bora hauls you up, supporting you on her shoulder

It is sunset by the time you get back to Starship

The blood on your face has dried, as well as all the small cuts over your body but you feel weak from having to walk back, Bora not being able to support your weight fully for so long

You make you way out of the forest and are slowly walking the 100 yard gap between the treeline and fence to the garden when you hear someone shout you name and Bora calls back, shouting for help

With safety now in reach your body decides it can rest and you fall unconscientious; vaguely seeing a figure resembling Wonho running towards you

The first thing you register as you wake up is the light weight of something on your hand

Looking over, you see Changkyun fast asleep in a chair pulled up to the bedside, head on the bed and his hand over yours

You take a hold of his hand and gently squeeze it, sitting up little, stirring him from his sleep

And as he sits up, the door slowly opens and in walks Kihyun

Both of them notice that you are awake at the exact same time and Kihyun rushes over and suddenly his lips are on yours

Before you can even think of responding Changkyun's lips have replaced his, the younger boy having pushed him off of you

The next hour is spent with the three of you sharing soft kisses, the two boys constantly asking if you are ok and you tell the story of what happened from your point of view

They also confirm that the other boys made it OK, and that you weren't just hallucinating Wonho before

...and then you are kissing and snuggling again, the two being extra careful with you

It is safe to say that when Hyungwon walks in with the intention of checking your injuries, he immediately backs out

"I'll come back later then..."

Now, Hyungwon loves tea and when it is this good? Well, it's just polite to share it

Soon enough everybody in the base knows of the advance in your relationship 

And it is one of the girls, Yeonjung, who first puts a label to it, calling Kihyun and Changkyun your boyfriends when she and Cheng Xiao visit you the next day

The two boys embrace their new roles

Changkyun takes the opportunity to be a little shit every chance he gets now he knows he can distract you or gain forgiveness through kisses

Not that it always works of course; Kihyun is far too much of a mother to let him off the hook so easily

Speaking of which; whenever you complain in the slightest about some part of you aching thanks to the fall, Kihyun is quick to fuss over you

*cue Changkyun suggesting a massage while making that flirty face*

While you are recovering, you take to helping Kihyun and some of the others in the kitchens, as you can sit down and prepare veg and small animals and fish that the others hunt, without exerting much energy

Of course he takes this as an opportunity to be cheesy; standing behind you, guiding the knife in your hand with his

Changkyun will never admit to being jealous of the time you and Kihyun spend together while he is off doing other things, but he doesn't even try to hide his pouty face he does when he wants attention

Which is why Changkyun is usually in the middle at night, always both the big and little spoon (whether it is you or Kihyun as his big spoon is totally random)

Kihyun often sings you both to sleep, and you start to call him your angel, because his voice is angelic

Changkyun on the other hand calls him his little jukebox, though the little bit is quickly dropped when Minhyuk points out that the two are the same height

One night Changkyun decides to sing instead, and you and Kihyun fall in love with his deep voice a little bit more and you encourage him and help him gain more confidence

Though you start regretting it when he starts singing old trot songs from your parents generation all. the. time.

Now, hotel rooms have their own bathrooms, right?

And you are lucky enough that the showers in this hotel are quite large

And everyone at Starship makes the most of that

Because showering with others is not uncommon in the apocalypse; hot water is not something to be wasted

The three of you often do so

One reason is that they use it as an excuse to use your nice smelling shampoos and such you have dibs on

Also...well...Changkyun is a kinky little shit, let's put it that way

The glass shower door often fogs up from more than just the steam because he can't keep his hands to himself

He is also a big fan of biting and hickies, especially when he is being more dominant

One time the three of you came back from a supply run you had volunteered to go on and jokes about there now being a zombie apocalypse went on for a week when people saw the hickies and bite marks on you and Kihyun

He is a bratty sub though, always whiny and impatient

Kihyun is a bit more romantic, but no less of a tease

But of course there is no internet or such to learn certain things from

I mean, Changkyun was 14 when it all went down, he doesn't exactly have an extensive knowledge on all things sexual

So Kihyun takes charge often, and there is quite a bit of experimenting

Moving past the fun times

Like I mentioned earlier, the three of you often volunteer for supply run duties when you had healed enough, and nobody objects because you work so well together

On one of these runs you came across a drugstore, already ransacked, which is to be expected after so many years

But you do manage to find little bits and pieces here and there

Which includes a load of sheet masks

When you show them to your two boyfriends back at the base, you all agree to keep them secret

That night the three of you can be found relaxing in your room; robes tied; masks on and glasses of wine (found in the basement) in hand playing the Cleopatra game much to the chargrin of Jooheon and Minhyuk in the room over

Winner gets to choose the losers punishment

Spoiler: Changkyun wins and makes you both challenge everyone in the building to an arm wrestle. Each time you lose you have to eat one of the sour sweets he found

And that is basically your whole relationship

Somehow both chic and romantic, and playful and teasing

And in the world that you live in, society as you knew it gone and danger around every corner, you are so glad that you have these two men you can love and trust with every fiber of your being

Requests are open

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