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cyarskj1899 · 2 years ago

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The 25 Best Rage Against the Machine Songs

From funky, radical bombtracks to incendiary covers, here are the rap-metal masters' finest moments

DAN EPSTEIN, ANDY GREENE, KORY GROW, DANIEL KREPS, HANK SHTEAMER

WHEN RAGE AGAINST the Machine emerged in the early Nineties, there was no other band even remotely like them. They not only fused rock with rap at a time when there was a stark divide between the two genres, but their radical lyrics called for a political revolution during the supposedly peaceful decade after the Cold War and before 9/11. This was a time when most bands were looking inward toward their own pain, not outward to the struggles of minorities in America and people living under oppressive regimes across the globe.

“It was one of those rare instances when the planets just lined up right and the alchemy of musical magic and history just poured out,” Chuck D recalled of Rage in 2016. “I saw them in concert [early on], and what I remember most is how wiped-out the crowd was afterwards. I had never seen a place destroyed; sweat and blood on the walls. The fucking tables were turned over and rafters pulled down. It was crazy. They’re the Led Zeppelin of our time.”

Rage broke up in 2000 and left behind just three albums of original material, but those songs aged remarkably well during the chaos and tumult of the past two decades. And when they announced a reunion tour, which finally kicks off July 7 after several pandemic-related delays, tickets sold out with remarkable speed. There’s no hint that they’ve recorded any new music, but they really have no need to. They somehow created the soundtrack for our time a quarter-century ago. Here, we count down their 25 greatest songs.

‘Darkness’ (1994)

MICK HUTSON/REDFERNS/GETTY IMAGES

One of Rage’s earliest and most incisive songs, “Darkness” first showed up on the band’s self-titled 1991 demo tape before it got a major-label makeover — complete with one of Morello’s most chaotic, acrobatic solos — for its inclusion on the soundtrack to 1994 Brandon Lee movie The Crow. Originally titled “Darkness of Greed,” the song, which toggles between mellowed-out jazz funk and steely metallic groove, likened the spread of AIDS in Africa — and the U.S. government’s “procrastination” toward stemming the virus — as genocide. “They say, ‘We’ll kill them off, take their land, and go there for vacation,'” de la Rocha whispers on the track. —D.K.

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‘How I Could Just Kill a Man’ (2000)

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On “How I Could Just Kill a Man,” Cypress Hill’s first single and first hit, rappers B-Real and Sen Dog traded verses about “takin’ out some putos” with a Magnum and making young punks pay. Their funky tableaus of terror built to the sort of wanton observation that would make any mother shudder: “Here is something you can’t understand — how I could just kill a man.” When Rage Against the Machine covered the track for Renegades, de la Rocha took all the verses for himself while Morello and bassist Tim Commerford (or “tim.com,” as he billed himself on the record) ratcheted up the noise to deafening levels on the chorus. “The first Cypress Hill record and [Public Enemy’s] It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back were two of the biggest hip-hop influences on Rage Against the Machine,” tim.com later told Rolling Stone.Rage might not have killed a man, but they definitely laid a few speakers to rest with their rendition. —K.G.

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‘Maggie’s Farm’ (2000)

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Bob Dylan was saying goodbye to the folk world when he wrote “Maggie’s Farm” in 1965, and it’s very tempting to read some of the lyrics as an angry kiss-off to folkies who wanted him to remain stuck in the past. “Well, I try my best to be just like I am,” he sneered. “But everybody wants you to be just like them/They sing while you slave and I just get bored.” When Rage tackled the song for their 2000 covers collection, Renegades, they were also at a crossroads of sorts. Communication lines between members were breaking down, and when de la Rocha sang “I ain’t gonna work at Maggie’s Farm no more,” he might as well have been putting in notice that he was done with the band itself. —A.G.

‘War Within a Breath’ (1999)

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“War Within a Breath” closes out Rage’s final LP of original material, 1999’s The Battle of Los Angeles, and it’s somehow fitting that these are the last notes we’ve heard to date of the band’s unmistakable sound. It’s an extremely on-brand tune that touches on everything from the Zapatismo movement to the Palestinian Intifada. Simply put, it sums up the entire Rage ethos in three and a half minutes. “Every official that comes in, cripples us, leaves us maimed,” de la Rocha roars. “Silent and tamed/And with our flesh and bones, he builds his homes/Southern fist, rise through the jungle mist.” —A.G.

‘Settle for Nothing’ (1992)

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Rage’s self-titled debut was more or less a 52-minute onslaught, which is why “Settle for Nothing” — the album’s most understated track and maybe the closest thing the band ever did to a power ballad — stands out so starkly. Over an eerily somber riff with shades of Metallica’s “One,” de la Rocha narrates the inner monologue of a desperate kid who chooses the cold comfort of gang life (“I’ve got a nine, a sign, a set, and now I got a name …”) over the trauma of a broken and abusive home. His voice rises to a livid howl (“Death is on my side … suicide!”) as the band blasts into a sinister Black Flag–meets–Black Sabbath wallop. The delicate filigree of Morello’s clean-toned solo suggests a warped spin on cocktail jazz — a quietly arresting sonic lament for the grim cycle of violence the song portrays. —H.S.

‘Microphone Fiend’ (2000)

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Rage kicked off their covers album, Renegades, with an ultra-heavy rendition of Eric B. and Rakim’s hip-hop anthem “Microphone Fiend.” Where the original sampled Average White Band’s funky guitar intro to “School Boy Crush,” Morello summons his own devastating wah-wah fury for Rage’s version, while bassist Commerford does most of the heavy lifting in the riff department. De la Rocha edited the lyrics to give the tune more of a rock chorus, and in a rare show of hip-hop humility, he side-stepped the lines Rakim wrote to shout himself out. The makeover translated to a direct rap-rock hit showing how smooth operators really do operate correctly for a heavy E-F-F-E-C-T. —K.G.

‘Calm Like a Bomb’ (1999)

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“Hope lies in the smoldering rubble of empires,” spits de la Rocha on this blistering highlight from The Battle of Los Angeles,perfectly summing up the RATM ethos in a single line before setting his sights on the global plight of the underclass. (“Stroll through the shanties and the cities’ remains/The same bodies buried hungry/But with different last names.”) And speaking of smoldering, “Calm Like a Bomb” finds Morello offering up a veritable master class in the use of the DigiTech Whammy pedal, conjuring impossibly sick and searing waves of undulating noise from his guitar. —D.E.

‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’ (2000)

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Rage Against the Machine were opening up for U2 on 1997’s PopMart stadium tour when they first played Bruce Springsteen’s “The Ghost of Tom Joad.” The original recording is a somber tale of urban poverty that Springsteen delivers in a hushed, resigned tone, but Rage present it like a lost song from the Evil Empire sessions — complete with a crushing Morello riff that bears little resemblance to the folky source material, yet still fits perfectly. The version worked so well that Rage kept it in their live set until they split three years later, making it the most-played cover song in their live repertoire by a huge margin. It also appeared on their 2000 covers collection, Renegades. And in 2008, Morello guested with Springsteen and the E Street Band to play a more traditional version of the song. Morello even became a temporary E Street–er in 2014, when Steve Van Zandt had to miss a tour to film his show Lillyhammer. The idea of Morello playing in the E Street Band would have seemed pretty far-fetched circa 1997, but time can make strange things happen. —A.G.

‘Born of a Broken Man’ (1999)

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One of the most emotional and evocative songs in the RATM catalog, this standout track from The Battle of Los Angeles finds de la Rocha musing on the mental-health struggles endured by his father, the influential Chicano artist Beto de la Rocha. With Morello’s guitar ringing like a mournful church bell, lyrics like “His thoughts like a hundred moths/Trapped in a lampshade/Somewhere within/Their wings banging and burning/On through the endless night” are unforgettably haunting — but so, too, is the younger de la Rocha’s defiant mantra of refusal to suffer the same fate. “Born of a broken man,” he insists, “Never a broken man.” —D.E.

‘Wake Up’ (1992)

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In six funky minutes, Rage Against the Machine unpack decades of institutional racism within the U.S. government on “Wake Up,” a deep cut off their self-titled debut. De la Rocha lambastes former FBI director J. Edgar Hoover and his policies, condemning the way the government targeted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. for protesting Vietnam and claiming it murdered Malcolm X “and tried to blame it on Islam.” “He turned the power to the have-nots,” the singer says, “and then came the shot.” The track ends with de la Rocha screaming “Wake up!” eight times in a row (a climax that, taken out of context, fits perfectly in the final scene of The Matrix) and a quote from King: “How long? Not long, ’cause what you reap is what you sow.” —K.G.

‘Year of tha Boomerang’ (1996)

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“Year of tha Boomerang” marked the first preview of the band’s much-anticipated sophomore album, having been featured — as “Year of the Boomerang” — on the soundtrack for John Singleton’s 1994 film, Higher Learning, more than 18 months before Evil Empire’s release. Inspired by a quote from French anti-imperialist Frantz Fanon, the song offered a crash course on the “doctrines of the right” that de la Rocha would further rage against on Evil Empire: imperialism, the oppression of both minorities’ and women’s rights, and genocide, all punctuated by Morello’s screeching riot-siren riff. —D.K.

‘Sleep Now in the Fire’ (1999)

RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE/YOUTUBE

One of Professor de la Rocha’s greatest social-studies dissertations, “Sleep Now in the Fire” traces how American avarice has decimated Third World countries, as well as marginalized people at home. “The party blessed me with its future,” he sings, playing the role of a Washington bigwig, “and I protect it with fire.” When the chorus comes with its elastic Morello riff, de la Rocha sarcastically encourages the oppressed peoples he’s singing about to “sleep now in the fire.” Later, he ominously catalogs the legacy of imperialism, slavery, and deadly force underlying the American myth, vowing, “I am the Niña, the Pinta, the Santa Maria/The noose and the rapist, the fields’ overseer/The agents of orange, the priests of Hiroshima.” In 2000, the band shot the song’s video on the steps of the New York Stock Exchange (without permission) and in one portentous moment, the camera captured someone in the crowd holding a “Donald J. Trump for President 2000” sign. In 2020, Morello joked, “I would say that we are karmically entirely responsible [for Trump running for president], and my apologies.” —K.G.

‘Maria’ (1999)

TIM MOSENFELDER/GETTY IMAGES

Marrying one of Morello’s weightiest riffs to one of de la Rocha’s most vividly devastating portraits of injustice, this Battle of Los Angeles deep cut demonstrates how the band just kept sharpening its attack all the way through its original lifespan. De la Rocha tells the story of Maria, a Mexican woman smuggled into the U.S. as “human contraband” and put to work in a sweatshop, where she finds herself at the mercy of an abusive foreman. Eventually she chooses a grisly suicide on the job over being treated “like cattle.” The song frames Maria as a kind of martyr figure, her story a constant reminder of North America’s long cycle of oppression and exploitation: “And through history’s rivers of blood she regenerates/And like the sun disappears only to reappear, Maria, she’s eternally here.” The song makes masterful use of dynamics, dipping down to a hush as de la Rocha recites the prior lines, and then explodes into a full-force stomp, with Morello’s swaggering, irrepressible guitar line symbolizing Maria’s phoenix-like rebirth. —H.S.

‘Vietnow’ (1996)

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Before Fox News brainwashed a generation of TV viewers who Alex Jones then pushed down the Q tunnel, Rage Against the Machine took aim at the insidious presence of right-wing talk radio on the Evil Empire cut “Vietnow.” With microphone fixed on Rush Limbaugh and the duplicitous Christian right, de la Rocha throws lyrical barbs like “Let’s capture this AM mayhem, undressed and blessed by the Lord,” “Terror’s the product you push,” “The sheep tremble and here come the votes,” and, on the chorus, “Fear is your only god on the radio/Nah, fuck it, turn it off.” The final single from Evil Empire, “Vietnow” served as an AM/FM foil of sorts to The Battle of Los Angeles’ first single “Guerrilla Radio” three years later, a track that demanded the listener “Turn that shit up.” —D.K.

‘Bullet in the Head’ (1992)

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Rage wrote “Bullet in the Head” just as America was declaring victory in the Gulf War, a conflict that Americans watched in real time on CNN and supported in overwhelming numbers. To de la Rocha, the made-for-TV war was a sham designed to benefit the military-industrial complex, and anyone who bought into it was a zombie brainwashed by the media. To put it another way, their brains had been hit with propaganda bullets. “They say jump and ya say how high,” he screams on the song. “Ya gotta fuckin’ bullet in ya head.” When introducing the song at an early concert, he made his point even clearer. “This song is about being an individual, about searching and finding new information,” he said, “and using your strength as an individual to attack systems like America who continue to rob and rape and murder people in the name of freedom.” —A.G.

‘Down Rodeo’ (1996)

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This Evil Empire highlight uses Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills’ glitziest shopping district, as a launching pad for de la Rocha’s bitter musings on consumerism, wealth disparity, and socioeconomic segregation: “So now I’m rollin’ down Rodeo with a shotgun,” he raps, before delivering an even harsher follow-up: “These people ain’t seen a brown-skin man since their grandparents bought one.” Filled with bracing couplets like “Can’t waste a day/When the night brings a hearse/So make a move and plead the Fifth/‘Cause you can’t plead the First,” and harnessed to a powerful, swaggering groove, “Down Rodeo” also features some synth-like glitch bursts from Morello’s multi-pronged guitar, which prods the music until it finally gives way to de la Rocha’s anguished whisper. “Just a quiet peaceful dance for the things we’ll never have,” he laments as the track fades out. —D.E.

‘Freedom’ (1992)

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With one of the best guitar riffs this side of Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi, “Freedom” calls for the release of Leonard Peltier, a Native American activist serving two life sentences for the deaths of two FBI agents in 1975. Peltier has always maintained his innocence. “Freedom, yeah!” de la Rocha screams at the end of the song before sarcastically revising the lyric to, “Freedom, yeah right!” In the song’s video, during the breakdown, the group displayed the words “We demand and support the request that Leonard Peltier … be released. Justice has not been done.” “To me, the reaction to the music and things like the ‘Freedom’ video are very encouraging,” de la Rocha said in 1996. “I know that some people look at us as just rabble-rousing or ranting or whining. But I think a lot of that reflects the cynicism that people have when it comes to dealing with political problems.… What we are trying to show is that people can make a difference … that we aren’t all powerless.” —K.G.

‘Testify’ (1999)

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“Testify” was the opening salvo from Rage’s third LP, The Battle of Los Angeles, which Rolling Stone deemed as the Best Album of 1999. Originally titled “Hendrix” when the song debuted live due to its usage of a “Purple Haze” chord — “I recently found out that Jimi Hendrix used to play a song called ‘Testify’ when he was a backing musician for the Isley Brothers. It all comes full circle,” Morello later quipped to Guitar World — “Testify” later transformed into an outlet criticizing the impending 2000 presidential election, a showdown where both candidates — George W. Bush and Al Gore — seemed to spout the same capitalist ideology. The song’s music video, directed by documentarian Michael Moore, reflected this pre-election anxiety; eerily prescient, the clip also concludes with a quote by Ralph Nader, who later played an unfortunately crucial role in the 2000 election, as the presence of the Green Party candidate is often blamed for throwing the presidency to Bush. —D.K.

‘Take the Power Back’ (1992)

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This funky blast from Rage Against the Machine went Public Enemy (and the Isley Brothers) one better, not only encouraging us to fight the powers that be, but reminding us that the power was actually ours in the first place. Three decades before the 1619 Project, de la Rocha decried the Eurocentric teachings of U.S. schools — “One-sided stories for years and years and years/I’m inferior?/Who’s inferior?/Yeah, we need to check the interior/Of the system that cares about only one culture” — over the fiery interplay of Brad Wilk’s slamming drums, Tim Commerford’s slinky, slap-driven bass lines, and Tom Morello’s stabbing chords. —D.E.

‘Bombtrack’ (1992)

RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE/YOUTUBE

Rage Against the Machine wasted no time getting down to serious business on their self-titled 1992 debut, opening the proceedings with this confrontational track. Though the official video for “Bombtrack” would salute the guerilla group Sendero Luminoso (or “Shining Path”) for its 13-year fight against Peru’s oppressive U.S.-backed government, the hard-grooving song itself lays out the band’s stance in broader terms, pledging solidarity with all indigenous peoples who have been abused, exploited, and slaughtered on the altar of imperialism. “Enough/I call the bluff/Fuck Manifest Destiny,” Zack de la Rocha cries. “Landlords and power whores/On my people/They took turns/Dispute the suits/I ignite and then watch ‘em burn.” —D.E.

‘People of the Sun’ (1996)

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Inspired by the 1994 Zapatista uprising in Chiapas, “People of the Sun” prophesies a new day for the descendants of the Aztecs, invoking the civilization’s final emperor — “The fifth sun sets/Get back/Reclaim/The spirit of Cuauhtémoc/Alive and untamed” — while serving up angry reminders of both Spain’s 16th-century conquest of Mexico and the racism-driven Zoot Suit Riots of 1940s Los Angeles. Clocking in at only two minutes and 30 seconds, “People of the Sun” is the shortest song in the entire RATM catalog, but its compact burst of furious intensity makes it the perfect opener for 1996’s Evil Empire. —D.E.

‘Guerilla Radio’ (1999)

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When guerrilla wars waged throughout the Latin American world in the Eighties, many of the combatants used underground radio stations like Radio Venceremos in El Salvador to communicate and show solidarity with each other. The leadoff single to Rage’s 1999 LP, The Battle of Los Angeles, draws a direct comparison between those guerrilla radio stations and the band’s own efforts to build a fan base when Top 40 radio and other mainstream outlets never went near their work. The song came out just as the 2000 election was beginning to heat up, and it castigates both of the major candidates. “More for Gore or the son of a drug lord,” de la Rocha raps. “None of the above/Fuck it, cut the cord.” The song concludes with a furious call for a revolution. “It has to start somewhere, it has to start sometime/What better place than here, what better time than now?” Had Rage stuck around through the post-9/11 era, things could have gotten really interesting. Sadly, Rage’s guerrilla radio network was silenced not long after this song hit. —A.G.

‘Know Your Enemy’ (1992)

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“Know Your Enemy” remains one of the most fiery moments in the whole Rage catalog: a quintessential pairing of a killer, upbeat Morello funk-metal riff with a furious de la Rocha anti-authoritarian manifesto, marked by lines like, “Cause I’ll rip the mic, rip the stage, rip the system/I was born to rage against ‘em.” (In case the object of his ire wasn’t clear, he later adds, “What? The land of the free? Whoever told you that is your enemy.”) Musically it’s one of the most diverse tracks in the band’s early canon, sporting an almost festive-sounding slap-bass-driven intro and a moody bridge featuring a memorable guest shriek from Tool frontman (and old Morello pal) Maynard James Keenan and percussion from Jane’s Addiction drummer Stephen Perkins. But the song’s brilliant climax comes around four minutes in, when Commerford’s bass grinds out the verse riff, Morello’s guitar comes in blaring out in an uncanny approximation of an emergency siren, and de la Rocha grunts “Come on!” as the band comes slamming back in — the perfect soundtrack to any act of, to quote one memorable line, “D, the E, the F, the I, the A, the N, the C, the E” you could possibly conceive. —H.S.

‘Killing in the Name’ (1992)

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In 1991, four white LAPD officers severely beat Rodney King, a Black man, while arresting him; when a jury acquitted those officers of using excessive force, Los Angeles exploded in riots. Zack de la Rocha channeled his outrage into the lyrics for “Killing in the Name,” a funky update of N.W.A’s “Fuck tha Police.” “Some of those that work forces/Are the same that burn crosses,” he chants repeatedly, condemning police racism and a cycle of above-the-law violence. He drills down on these themes as the song escalates, shouting “Those who died are justified for wearing the badge/They’re the chosen whites.” The song builds and builds until de la Rocha hollers, “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me,” 16 times in a row, topping one of history’s most incendiary protest songs. “After our second show ever, we had record-company interest in the band,” guitarist Tom Morello later recalled. “So these executives were coming down to our grimy studio in the San Fernando Valley.… I remember one of the executives squeaking after [‘Killing in the Name’] was done, ‘So is that the direction you’re heading in?'” —K.G.

‘Bulls on Parade’ (1996)

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Rage Against the Machine called their second LP Evil Empire, and many of the songs focused on American foreign policy. On “Bulls on Parade,” de la Rocha, accompanied by an ingeniously minimal Morello riff, aims his fire at the hypocrisy of D.C. policymakers. “Weapons not food, not homes, not shoes,” he roars. “Not need, just feed the war cannibal animal.” He also calls out politicians who pretend to be pro-family, but actually have a “pocket full of shells.” Near the end, Morello blasts off a career-defining guitar solo in which he replicates the sound of a record scratching. Taken as a whole, the track is perhaps the finest distillation of the the sonic Molotov cocktail that is Rage. Fittingly, one of the all-time great “Bulls” performances took place outside the Democratic National Convention in 2000, months before the group originally broke up. “Brothers and sisters, our electoral freedoms in this country are over so long as it’s controlled by corporations,” de la Rocha said before starting “Bulls on Parade.” “Brothers and sisters, we are not going to allow these streets to be taken over by Democrats or Republicans.” —A.G.

IN THIS ARTICLE:

Rage Against the Machine,

Tom Morello,

Zack de la Rocha

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adam31310 · 2 years ago

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Chemtrails: What's the truth behind the conspiracy theory?

The word "chemtrails" has trended on sunny mornings this summer - but what's the truth behind the conspiracy theory?

Look up at a clear blue sky, and you might see puffy white trails behind airplanes.

They are made up mostly of water and are called contrails or vapor trails, but a growing number of people falsely believe they are evidence of something sinister going on.

Some think malign forces are spraying the population with dangerous chemicals - so-called chemtrails - for purposes that are neither entirely clear nor consistent.

A surge in conspiratorial thinking following the Covid pandemic, along with the summer travel season and clear skies, means the once-obscure chemtrails theory is now being promoted by major influencers.

What are contrails?

Contrails are formed when water vapor and fine soot particulates from burning jet fuel freeze into ice crystals. In low air humidity, the crystals dissipate. In higher humidity, they persist and end up creating visible vapor trails over large areas of the sky.

Check car history online. Reveal the complete history of any UK-registered vehicle from DVLA, DVSA, Police, MIB, MIAFTR & Experian.

Those humidity differences explain why some aircraft are seen producing vapor trails while others do not.

High humidity means that vapor trails can last for long periods and become thin layers of cirrus clouds, Met Office meteorologist Aidan McGivern told the BBC. Cirrus clouds are short, detached, and hair-like and are found at high altitudes. It is unlikely that any of these purported chemicals in the clouds would even reach ground level because they are at such high altitudes, he said.

One persistent belief among followers of the theory is that early morning chemtrails encourage greater cloud cover later in the day - but this can be explained by the natural process of convection. This is the result of the sun warming the ground, causing warm air to rise and condense into clouds later in the day, the Met Office says.

How did the conspiracy theory begin?

The idea that governments or shadowy forces are routinely spraying the planet with chemicals from scheduled passenger flights took hold in the 1990s.

Initially, believers claimed sprays containing a toxic metal, barium, were being used to either pacify or reduce populations.

But the idea evolved along the way, meaning today, there are several strands of the chemtrail theory.

In recent years, followers have expanded their accusations, claiming the contrails are being used to spread Covid-19, distribute vaccines, initiate "mind control," reduce the population or vaguely promote a "new world order."

False allegations have trended so frequently this year that fact-checking charity Full Fact has posted 10 debunks since April.

Chemtrail influencers are highly active on platforms such as Facebook and Telegram, where they discuss the day's alleged "spraying" and track aircraft. Some suggest putting a bowl of white vinegar outside, saying that this clears "chemtrails" skies.

Chemtrail social media groups also often contain anti-vaccine posts and promote climate change denialism, feeding off an increase in conspiracy thinking during the Covid-19 pandemic and the rise of the QAnon conspiracy theory during the Trump presidency.

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The phenomenon is international, with followers across the UK, Europe, Australia, and the Americas - in fact, anywhere under which commercial or military aircraft fly. And it is backed by a few celebrities and popular social media influencers.

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puttingherinhistory · 3 years ago

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“Covid has unleashed the most severe setback to women’s liberation in my lifetime. While watching this happen, I have started to think we are witnessing an outbreak of disaster patriarchy.

Naomi Klein was the first to identify “disaster capitalism”, when capitalists use a disaster to impose measures they couldn’t possibly get away with in normal times, generating more profit for themselves. Disaster patriarchy is a parallel and complementary process, where men exploit a crisis to reassert control and dominance, and rapidly erase hard-earned women’s rights. (The term “racialized disaster patriarchy” was used by Rachel E Luft in writing about an intersectional model for understanding disaster 10 years after Hurricane Katrina.) All over the world, patriarchy has taken full advantage of the virus to reclaim power – on the one hand, escalating the danger and violence to women, and on the other, stepping in as their supposed controller and protector.

I have spent months interviewing activists and grassroots leaders around the world, from Kenya to France to India, to find out how this process is affecting them, and how they are fighting back. In very different contexts, five key factors come up again and again. In disaster patriarchy, women lose their safety, their economic power, their autonomy, their education, and they are pushed on to the frontlines, unprotected, to be sacrificed.

Part of me hesitates to use the word “patriarchy”, because some people feel confused by it, and others feel it’s archaic. I have tried to imagine a newer, more contemporary phrase for it, but I have watched how we keep changing language, updating and modernising our descriptions in an attempt to meet the horror of the moment. I think, for example, of all the names we have given to the act of women being beaten by their partner. First, it was battery, then domestic violence, then intimate partner violence, and most recently intimate terrorism. We are forever doing the painstaking work of refining and illuminating, rather than insisting the patriarchs work harder to deepen their understanding of a system that is eviscerating the planet. So, I’m sticking with the word.

In this devastating time of Covid we have seen an explosion of violence towards women, whether they are cisgender or gender-diverse. Intimate terrorism in lockdown has turned the home into a kind of torture chamber for millions of women. We have seen the spread of revenge porn as lockdown has pushed the world online; such digital sexual abuse is now central to domestic violence as intimate partners threaten to share sexually explicit images without victims’ consent.

The conditions of lockdown – confinement, economic insecurity, fear of illness, excess of alcohol – were a perfect storm for abuse. It is hard to determine what is more disturbing: the fact that in 2021 thousands of men still feel willing and entitled to control, torture and beat their wives, girlfriends and children, or that no government appears to have thought about this in their planning for lockdown.

In Peru, hundreds of women and girls have gone missing since lockdown was imposed, and are feared dead. According to official figures reported by Al Jazeera, 606 girls and 309 women went missing between 16 March and 30 June last year. Worldwide, the closure of schools has increased the likelihood of various forms of violence. The US Rape Abuse and Incest National Network says its helpline for survivors of sexual assault has never been in such demand in its 26-year history, as children are locked in with abusers with no ability to alert their teachers or friends. In Italy, calls to the national anti-violence toll-free number increased by 73% between 1 March and 16 April 2020, according to the activist Luisa Rizzitelli. In Mexico, emergency call handlers received the highest number of calls in the country’s history, and the number of women who sought domestic violence shelters quadrupled.

To add outrage to outrage, many governments reduced funding for these shelters at the exact moment they were most needed. This seems to be true throughout Europe. In the UK, providers told Human Rights Watch that the Covid-19 crisis has exacerbated a lack of access to services for migrant and Black, Asian and minority ethnic women. The organisations working with these communities say that persistent inequality leads to additional difficulties in accessing services such as education, healthcare and disaster relief remotely.

In the US, more than 5 million women’s jobs were lost between the start of the pandemic and November 2020. Because much of women’s work requires physical contact with the public – restaurants, stores, childcare, healthcare settings – theirs were some of the first to go. Those who were able to keep their jobs were often frontline workers whose positions have put them in great danger; some 77% of hospital workers and 74% percent of school staff are women. Even then, the lack of childcare options left many women unable to return to their jobs. Having children does not have this effect for men. The rate of unemployment for Black and Latina women was higher before the virus, and now it is even worse.

The situation is more severe for women in other parts of the world. Shabnam Hashmi, a leading women’s activist from India, tells me that by April 2020 a staggering 39.5% of women there had lost their jobs. “Work from home is very taxing on women as their personal space has disappeared, and workload increased threefold,” Hashmi says. In Italy, existing inequalities have been amplified by the health emergency. Rizzitelli points out that women already face lower employment, poorer salaries and more precarious contracts, and are rarely employed in “safe” corporate roles; they have been the first to suffer the effects of the crisis. “Pre-existing economic, social, racial and gender inequalities have been accentuated, and all of this risks having longer-term consequences than the virus itself,” Rizzitelli says.

When women are put under greater financial pressure, their rights rapidly erode. With the economic crisis created by Covid, sex- and labour-trafficking are again on the rise. Young women who struggle to pay their rent are being preyed on by landlords, in a process known as “sextortion”.

I don’t think we can overstate the level of exhaustion, anxiety and fear that women are suffering from taking care of families, with no break or time for themselves. It’s a subtle form of madness. As women take care of the sick, the needy and the dying, who takes care of them? Colani Hlatjwako, an activist leader from the Kingdom of Eswatini, sums it up: “Social norms that put a heavy caregiving burden on women and girls remain likely to make their physical and mental health suffer.” These structures also impede access to education, damage livelihoods, and strip away sources of support.

Unesco estimates that upward of 11 million girls may not return to school once the Covid pandemic subsides. The Malala Fund estimates an even bigger number: 20 million. Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, from UN Women, says her organisation has been fighting for girls’ education since the Beijing UN women’s summit in 1995. “Girls make up the majority of the schoolchildren who are not going back,” she says. “We had been making progress – not perfect, but we were keeping them at school for longer. And now, to have these girls just dropping out in one year, is quite devastating.”

Of all these setbacks, this will be the most significant. When girls are educated, they know their rights, and what to demand. They have the possibility of getting jobs and taking care of their families. When they can’t access education, they become a financial strain to their families and are often forced into early marriages.

This has particular implications for female genital mutilation (FGM). Often, fathers will accept not subjecting their daughters to this process because their daughters can become breadwinners through being educated. If there is no education, then the traditional practices resume, so that daughters can be sold for dowries. As Agnes Pareyio, chairwoman of the Kenyan Anti-Female Genital Mutilation Board, tells me: “Covid closed our schools and brought our girls back home. No one knew what was going on in the houses. We know that if you educate a girl, FGM will not happen. And now, sadly the reverse is true.”

In the early months of the pandemic, I had a front-row seat to the situation of nurses in the US, most of whom are women. I worked with National Nurses United, the biggest and most radical nurses’ union, and interviewed many nurses working on the frontline. I watched as for months they worked gruelling 12-hour shifts filled with agonising choices and trauma, acting as midwives to death. On their short lunch breaks, they had to protest over their own lack of personal protective equipment, which put them in even greater danger. In the same way that no one thought what it would mean to lock women and children in houses with abusers, no one thought what it would be like to send nurses into an extremely contagious pandemic without proper PPE. In some US hospitals, nurses were wearing garbage bags instead of gowns, and reusing single-use masks many times. They were being forced to stay on the job even if they had fevers.

The treatment of nurses who were risking their lives to save ours was a shocking kind of violence and disrespect. But there are many other areas of work where women have been left unprotected, from the warehouse workers who are packing and shipping our goods, to women who work in poultry and meat plants who are crammed together in dangerous proximity and forced to stay on the job even when they are sick. One of the more stunning developments has been with “tipped” restaurant workers in the US, already allowed to be paid the shockingly low wage of $2.13 (£1.50) an hour, which has remained the same for the past 22 years. Not only has work declined, tips have also declined greatly for those women, and now a new degradation called “maskular harassment” has emerged, where male customers insist waitresses take off their masks so they can determine if and how much to tip them based on their looks.

Women farm workers in the US have seen their protections diminished while no one was looking. Mily Treviño-Sauceda, executive director of Alianza Nacional de Campesinas, tells me how pressures have increased on campesinas, or female farm workers: “There have been more incidents of pesticides poisonings, sexual abuse and heat stress issues, and there is less monitoring from governmental agencies or law enforcement due to Covid-19.”

Covid has revealed the fact that we live with two incompatible ideas when it comes to women. The first is that women are essential to every aspect of life and our survival as a species. The second is that women can easily be violated, sacrificed and erased. This is the duality that patriarchy has slashed into the fabric of existence, and that Covid has laid bare. If we are to continue as a species, this contradiction needs to be healed and made whole.

To be clear, the problem is not the lockdowns, but what the lockdowns, and the pandemic that required them, have made clear. Covid has revealed that patriarchy is alive and well; that it will reassert itself in times of crisis because it has never been truly deconstructed, and like an untreated virus it will return with a vengeance when the conditions are ripe.

The truth is that unless the culture changes, unless patriarchy is dismantled, we will forever be spinning our wheels. Coming out of Covid, we need to be bold, daring, outrageous and to imagine a more radical way of existing on the Earth. We need to continue to build and spread activist movements. We need progressive grassroots women and women of colour in positions of power. We need a global initiative on the scale of a Marshall Plan or larger, to deconstruct and exorcise patriarchy – which is the root of so many other forms of oppression, from imperialism to racism, from transphobia to the denigration of the Earth.

There would first be a public acknowledgment, and education, about the nature of patriarchy and an understanding that it is driving us to our end. There would be ongoing education, public forums and processes studying how patriarchy leads to various forms of oppression. Art would help expunge trauma, grief, aggression, sorrow and anger in the culture and help heal and make people whole. We would understand that a culture that has diabolical amnesia and refuses to address its past can only repeat its misfortunes and abuses. Community and religious centres would help members deal with trauma. We would study the high arts of listening and empathy. Reparations and apologies would be done in public forums and in private meetings. Learning the art of apology would be as important as prayer.

The feminist author Gerda Lerner wrote in 1986: “The system of patriarchy in a historic construct has a beginning and it will have an end. Its time seems to have nearly run its course. It no longer serves the needs of men and women, and its intractable linkage to militarism, hierarchy and racism has threatened the very existence of life on Earth.”

As powerful as patriarchy is, it’s just a story. As the post-pandemic era unfolds, can we imagine another system, one that is not based on hierarchy, violence, domination, colonialisation and occupation? Do we see the connection between the devaluing, harming and oppression of all women and the destruction of the Earth itself? What if we lived as if we were kin? What if we treated each person as sacred and essential to the unfolding story of humanity?

What if rather than exploiting, dominating and hurting women and girls during a crisis, we designed a world that valued them, educated them, paid them, listened to them, cared for them and centred them?“

#women #coronavirus #life and style #world news #inequality #Covid 19 #COVID-19 #feminism #womanism #gender inequality #gender equality #corona virus

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ericspinkhair · 3 years ago

Text

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenario #the boyz kevin smut #the boyz kevin scenario #moon hyungseo smut #moon hyungseo scenario #the boyz kevin moon smut #the boyz kevin moon scenario #the boyz hyungseo smut #the boyz hyungseo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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marveltrumpshate · 4 years ago

Photo

As we said in our closing message at the end of this year’s auction, 2020 has been a year of tremendous change—change that we had no control over and change that we made with our own hands. Many times this year—and the past four years under the Trump administration for those of us in the U.S.—we’ve felt helpless in the face of terrible upheaval. But rather than forcing us to give up, the calamities we’ve witnessed and experienced galvanized us. We’ve seen people volunteer to drop off groceries for immunocompromised neighbors during the pandemic. We’ve seen people donate generously during the worst global economic crisis in modern history. We’ve seen people become more politically active, taking to the streets to protest and voting in record numbers like they are tonight.

And we’ve seen that same passion, that same desire to make change and help people, fuel all the MTH participants this year.

We weren’t sure what the turnout would be like. Would people have the time or energy to sign up as creators? Would people be willing to donate, and would they have the means to do so?

Our worries proved to be baseless.

This year, 273 “Marvel”-ous creators came forward to offer 416 auctions.

And this year, we raised…

That’s just over $11,000 more than the MTH 2019 total. 😮💖🎉

We’re going to channel Beast here and exclaim, “Oh my stars and garters!”

The race started off with a bang, with bids racking up quickly on the first day. Even so, we were shocked when we matched last year’s total, which we weren’t sure we could do ($27,193.91 was beyond our wildest expectations), and then just ran right past it before the auction even ended!

It’s been an incredible journey, with the mod chat pinging at all hours with excited gifs, effusive heart emojis, and inarticulate keyboard smashes as we expressed our love for the wonderful people in our fandom. It’s been very hard not blurting out the milestones as we reached them when we desperately wanted to share these amazing results with you all.

Creators, we couldn’t have started this auction without you. We loved seeing so many veteran creators sign up again and were pleasantly surprised by how many new faces showed up to the party.

Bidders, as crazy as it sounds, most donations were small ones (including some of those crazily high winning bids—several were the result of people pooling their five dollars together!). This has been consistently the case since MTH began. It just goes to show how much of an impact you can have when you’re part of something bigger than yourself. Each donation has a ripple effect, and enough ripples can cause a wave. You matter, and you can make a difference.

We also owe our success to our amazing signal boosters. There can’t be an auction without any participants, so to every fandom community Tumblr that agreed to reblog our posts, every Discord server mod who let us post announcements, and every person who shared our posts and encouraged their fandom friends to sign up and/or bid, thank you so much! Together, we reached hundreds of fantastic creators and bidders from all corners of the Marvel fandom, many of whom we didn’t know and some who were hearing about us for the first time.

Thank you all. We’re so touched by the massive number of people who donated above and beyond their pledged amount, creators who took on multiple auctions and offered multiple winner slots, and bidders who accepted their second-place wins with such eagerness! We also had people make donations in the spirit of MTH even though they didn’t win an auction, which was beyond generous.

We’ve already seen how our donations are changing the world for the better. To name a few examples:

Partners In Health is on the ground testing, providing care, assisting local government response, and mobilizing community health workers in countries where the mortality rate for COVID-19 is expected to be much more severe than those with well-resourced health systems

The Southern Poverty Law Center raised $10 million to fight voter suppression in the South, with some great successes in Florida

World Central Kitchen has purchased over 10 million meals from small, independent restaurants in 400 cities, putting $105 million and counting directly back into the economy and helping both struggling businesses and people who need food the most during the pandemic

We’re sure that in the months and years to come, we’ll see even more wonderful results.

In addition to the astounding amount of money we were able to raise for charity, MTH was successful in other ways. We strove to be as inclusive as possible, determined to make this event a fandom-wide effort. Considering that the auctions covered over 369 unique platonic and romantic relationships (if we include “all ships/gen”-inclusive relationships, this number is even higher) across 31 universes within the Marvel multiverse, we can safely say that we accomplished our goal.

This spirit of inclusion also applies to our auctions and charities. Every one of 416 auctions was bid on, and every one of our 30 supported charities received donations. We’re in awe of your commitment to supporting all our creators and charities and thrilled that you spread all the love around, bidders!

Here’s our breakdown of the donations (click to enlarge the image and hover to see the donation amount per charity):

We’ve also listed the amount raised per charity on our 2020 auction results page.

From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for helping us turn our third Marvel Trumps Hate auction into such a fantastic experience. We cherish every single message of love and support that we received and continue to receive on our Discord server and through DMs, Tumblr messages, emails, tweets, etc. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!

To remember or learn why we created this auction in the first place, please check out our 2018 “thank you” post to all of our creators, bidders, signal boosters, and supporters.

If you’d like to stay updated on all of the 2020 Marvel Trumps Hate fills, follow us and/or check out the “mth 2020” tag on our Tumblr. You’ll also be able to find works posted on AO3 in our Marvel Trumps Hate 2020 collection and links to fills in our Discord server, which you can join to brainstorm prompts, chat about fills, and find out about other fandom events.

Thank you once again to everyone who volunteered their services, time, money, and platforms to spread the word. Though we may sometimes wonder how much of a difference we can make, it’s moments like this that show that every bit helps, no matter the size of our contribution. With that in mind, we’d like everyone to keep the following quote close to their hearts as we move forward and find ways to make the world a better place, to remember these words when they’re feeling lost or small.

“Purpose is the essential element of you. It is the reason you are on the planet at this particular time in history. Your very existence is wrapped up in the things you are here to fulfill.” — Chadwick Boseman

Think about your purpose. Think about what you can do while you’re here. Know that you matter.

And with that, MTH 2020 has officially come to a close. We’re so beyond grateful to you all, and we can’t wait to see all of your fanworks over the coming year!

Lots of love and gratitude, Your 2020 MTH mods

#marvel trumps hate #mth 2020 #announcement

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tealin · 4 years ago

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Cape Crozier: The Spiritual Journey

As usual, please check out http://twirlynoodle.com/blog to see this post and others in their original (functioning) formatting.

Since getting seriously into polar history, I kept hearing the same two things from polar veterans. One was that I could not possibly understand the story properly, or be able to depict it truthfully, unless I visited Antarctica myself. The other was that Antarctica changes people. This was unanimous amongst scientists, historians, and even tourists: one cannot help but be profoundly affected by contact with Antarctica; that is just a fact of the place.

I have certainly been changed by Antarctica indirectly. The inner kernel of “me” is the same in my earliest memories as now, but the Terra Nova men and their experiences have fundamentally shifted how that kernel views and relates to the world and the people around me. I am a vastly better person for their influence, and that is a large part of why I have been so dogged in getting their story to a new audience: the hope that, through my work, even one other person might be changed in the same way.

When I finally got the chance to visit Antarctica in person, I had half an eye out for signs something had happened. Two weeks into my visit, I had learned a lot and had some meaningful experiences, but I couldn't say I had changed at all. Maybe that initial action-at-a-distance was the change I had been promised after all.

Then I went to Cape Crozier.

As we have spread around the planet, humans have noted certain places as being special in some way, places of some sort of power, or where the spirit world is a little more tangible. The Celts called these 'thin places', where the fabric of reality is threadbare, and Something Else comes a little closer. One can have a 'thin' experience anywhere, but certain places seem to encourage them. They may remain completely unmarked, or may become loci for centuries of pilgrimage, or anything in between, but they exist in some form in every culture except, perhaps, the post-Enlightenment intellectual West.

Antarctica, generally, feels like where the edge of a painting dissolves into brushstrokes. There is a certain unreality baked-in: the sun wheels around the sky without setting, one can count on one hand the species of life regularly seen, and everything – the landscape, the weather, the distances – is so vastly out of proportion to puny humanity. One could argue that this 'unfinished' feeling is because so much of it is white, but I have travelled through many snow-covered landscapes, and they feel like landscapes covered in snow, not fundamentally blank places with a few suggestive details dropped in by an artist whose main attention was elsewhere.

Cape Crozier was something else entirely, though. It is, of course, hanging off the edge of Ross Island, but it felt more like it was hanging off the edge of reality itself. It is a thin place par excellence. And I had an experience there which I have been trying to process since landing back at McMurdo. When I tried to discuss it with friends, my ability to speak quite simply stopped. Then the pandemic, and the new house, and pushing through Vol.1, all rose up and drove it to the back of my mind. In February I wasn't ready to talk about it; here in October, I worry it's too late. But I feel compelled to share what happened there, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I ever will.

If this were a novel, at Cape Crozier I would have felt the thinness of time, and a closer connection to the dead men I had followed there – perhaps almost to believe they weren't dead at all! In such a place, that didn't seem impossible. But that is not what happened. Nor did I have some sort of enlightenment beamed into my head from the heavens. Even the word 'happened' is too suggestive of some sort of discrete external event. If you had asked me, there, at the time, I'd have said I was just sitting there thinking. But I sit thinking a lot in life, and this was not the sort of thinking I am used to. It was more like a revelation. Not in the trumpets and angels sense, but in a literal one: layers of clutter and gloss were pulled back to reveal a simple underlying truth. It was, in essence, a dose of perspective, a view from high and far enough away to see the big picture, and not the surface detail. As I sat at the base of a boulder, gazing at the stone igloo and gawking at how completely insane were the men who dragged their sledges to this desolate nowhere to build it, I suddenly saw my life as it appeared in the Author's notes.

Ever since first getting the inkling that this story would make a good graphic novel, it has felt like a calling. I said 'no' to the calling for years – some sort of cosmic wrong number – but when I finally said 'yes' everything started falling into place. That is supposed to be a good sign, for a calling. And I was happy following it, though it wasn't easy or comfortable. As far as I could deduce, under my own power, it seemed like what I ought to be doing. That is not to say there weren't doubts, especially in the grey light of a winter morning when I would lie in my rented bed, looking at my desk and wondering what on earth I was doing with my life. And I was not untroubled by other concerns: Shouldn't I be more helpful to my family? Why have I been persistently unable to find a tribe, or a relationship? Will I be allowed to stay in the UK? Can I do this work and keep myself fed and housed?

Here, on a wind-scoured ridge on the edge of nowhere, reflecting on its history of unbelievable and, it could be argued, pointless hardship, one might expect to realise the folly of one's ways, and to swear off quixotic enterprises in favour of the hitherto unappreciated quotidian stuff that really matters. But that is not what happened. Instead, I got this dose of clarity:

I am here to tell this story. Not here, at Cape Crozier, in this instant (although that too), but here, on this planet, as a human being. This is what I am for.

Whatever I need to make it happen will be provided. No less, and no more.

Everything else? Tangential. Not worth worrying about. What needs to happen, will happen, and if it doesn't happen, it didn't need to. And that's OK.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

When I was young, we had a puzzle of the United States of America. It was made of Masonite, and the pieces were cut out in the shapes of the states, which would be assembled to fill the recessed outline of the country. Because they were geographical shapes and not interlocking jigsaw pieces, they would slide and rattle around until the last one got wedged in and locked everything else in place.

Most of my life, I have felt like that rattly puzzle. I didn't realise it because I had never known there was another way to be. But there under the boulder it felt like that last piece had been dropped in, that secured all the loose ones. It was not that Cape Crozier was my missing piece and now that I had it I was complete – that is far too literal. The missing piece was a something that wasn't even a thing; rather, in that moment of clarity, I felt all the jangling bits come to rest, and a wholly unfamiliar solidity. At last the clay wobbling around the potter's wheel had been centred, and I felt a metaphysical ground beneath my metaphysical feet that I had not known it was possible to feel.

Ironically, the rest of the day I felt like I wasn't touching the actual ground at all, perhaps because what I was anchored to was on another plane entirely. The stumbling shamble through the wind back to the helicopter might as well have been happening to someone else. We took off into the gale, and though the pilot acted as though it was perfectly ordinary, when we were rounding the ridge he said 'wow, that's the rotor all the way to the left' which I didn't understand but didn't sound great. Nevertheless the sense of peace persisted, and I understood how, in his last letter to his wife, which he knew would be his last, Wilson could have kept insisting 'all is well.' (I knew why he wrote that: he had read Julian of Norwich. But now I understood why.)

The journey back was a transcendence all of its own, the beauty of which seemed to be a perfectly natural outward manifestation of that altered state. We touched down in time for me to make it to the Galley just as it opened for dinner, so we couldn't have been gone two whole hours, and that seemed absurd to me – surely I had sat under that boulder for two hours at least? Or had we only been at the igloo ten minutes? It was impossible to tell.

What I wanted more than anything was to go up a mountain and ponder the whole thing, alone, until it sorted itself out and I was ready to come back down again. I could have gone up Observation Hill, but the weather looked liable to turn into a proper blizzard at any moment. So, lacking a better option, I went to go eat, and, after having a chuckle at the Cherry Turnovers, slunk to the back where I could usually count on having a small wallflower table to myself, especially this early. But one of the larger tables was full of young dudes talking about bar fights they'd been involved in, and I just … couldn't. So I wandered into the main area and discovered the One Strange Rock crew having an early dinner as well, begged a spot at their table, and ate swaddled in friendly natter instead of at one with the universe in a blizzard. It amounted to much the same thing.

Eventually one of them said, 'You went to Cape Crozier today, didn't you? How was that?'

I made an exploding gesture around my head and said 'Pkhhhh.'

Cherry wrote that the Winter Journey 'had beggared our language'. I am sure that my inarticulate gesture is not what he meant. But at the same time, in fact at that very dinner, I realised something about his writing. The Winter Journey chapter is unanimously regarded as the finest part of The Worst Journey in the World. Some people question that this otherwise unremarkable country gent, who never produced another book, could have written with such profound and expressive talent, and they posit that his friend and neighbour George Bernard Shaw, who definitely did consult on the book, must have ghostwritten it. I have read enough of Cherry's writing – in his own hand – to know this is bosh; the voice and the style are distinctly his. What's more, I was surprised to discover, when going through his journals, that a large portion of the Winter Journey chapter was not written last, despite it being the last to join the manuscript of Worst Journey, but was in fact written in his bunk at Cape Evans while he was recuperating from the experience. In the published book, he singles out some passages as being from 'my own diary' but great tracts of unattributed narration are more or less verbatim quotations as well. The experience related therein feels so immediate because it was.

The rest of Worst Journey, while perfectly readable, is largely a narrative rewrite of Cherry's and others' diaries. Sometimes he lets others carry the story for pages at a time. His writing is undeniably good, but is often simply mortar, filling gaps and binding sources together to tell a history that no human invention could better. The Winter Journey chapter, on the other hand, reads like a torrent of pure inspiration pouring through him onto the page. That such vivid, timeless prose should have come from an exhausted 25-year-old in his bunk in a wooden hut is no less remarkable than from a jaded 35-year-old in the library of his country house.

Artists of all stripes will often say that their best work is not their own creation, but feels like it already existed and came through them from somewhere else. It's as if there's a great Beyond where things that need to come into the world – stories, images, performances – queue up for passage through artists' minds and bodies. Sometimes one taps into it by luck; usually it's a combination of training and discipline that makes the link traversable, from time to time. Perhaps artists' minds are their own thin places, in a way. Sitting there at dinner with my friends, I felt as though I'd brushed against the fabric between this reality and that Beyond, and, like touching the wall of a tent in a rainstorm, broken the surface tension and allowed something through. I felt like, if I just put pencil to paper, something could flow through me, if only I could narrow down a subject. With the intensity of his experience, Cherry did not so much brush against the wet tent fabric as punch a hole through it; feeling just a small inkling of that myself, it was no wonder that the creative energy poured into his diary with such intuitive eloquence.

Had I sat down to write this that night, perhaps I could have tapped into that flow, but I didn't feel I was ready. I can guarantee you that right now I am not tapped into anything but a vague and dwindling recollection. As vast as the experience was, by putting a box of words around it, I cannot help but reduce it to the confines of the box. But that is the best I can do under my own power.

Compared to the seismic transformation of character brought about by my first vicarious encounter with Antarctica, the insight at Cape Crozier was very small and personal, but once in place, the ramifications have been substantial. When I arrived back home, just before Christmas, the world was still as it ever was, but I was different, and I noticed how differently I related to everything. Things I loved about Cambridge, which previously made me desperate to stay, I appreciated no less, but valued instead as something I had the honour to enjoy for a while, and didn't need to hold on to. A young-adults group which I'd hung around, formerly a precious simulacrum of a social life, now felt hollow, and I abandoned it in favour of time spent one-on-one with the handful of people who I really appreciated. They all said I seemed different; one person said I seemed 'sad', but I think I had just taken the mask off the seriousness which tends to frighten people. I have never been afraid to be myself, but in recent years have tried to mitigate that self in relation to others; there seemed no point to that, now. It was as if my inner gyroscope had finally started spinning, and I had a sense of balance and orientation that I hadn't before.

Holding on to the clarity of that moment, and the centredness it brought me, has not been easy. It didn't keep me from panicking when my housemate excoriated me back in March. It didn't focus my mind on my work as soon as I'd moved into the new place, or save me from getting angry and frustrated when battling my tax returns. Sometimes it's very hard to remember at all. But I know what happened, and I can remember remembering, even if I can't recapture the feeling itself. Sometimes, when it's very windy, I seek out a high open place in the hope of feeling it again, but it hasn't worked. Maybe it doesn't need to. Having it once was all I really needed, and even if I succeeded in flicking those switches again, what good would it do that hasn't already been done?

I could not foresee, on that windswept ridge on the edge of reality, where the world would be in 2020. In wry moments I think I was only a few months ahead of a large portion of humanity, who have been forced to sort things out when the pandemic stripped away their preoccupations and illusions. Maybe you are one of them, and you recognise some of what I've described. Maybe you feel like you've been running away from it. Maybe you have been running towards it but have been unable to find it. All I can tell you is: it's worth the seeking.

I wish everyone in the world could visit Antarctica, even just once, and see how it changes them. The world would be such a better place. I am so profoundly grateful that I had the chance, and am determined to pay it forward by bringing some shred of that experience to as many people as possible. If my communication fails to bridge that gap for you, then take it upon yourself to find your own thin place. They are all around. It only requires that you be receptive, and undertake to look.

#antarctica #travel #spirituality #purpose #mountaintop moment #cape crozier #epiphany

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kiranxrys · 4 years ago

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Alone Together Episode 1 Transcript - Alexander Siddig & Andrew Robinson

I hadn’t seen a transcript for this episode going around on Tumblr yet and I thought I would quickly make one to share with anyone who would prefer to read or wants to read along/revisit the first episode in text form (and the YouTube subtitles are mostly useless, annoyingly). Please let me know if you think I’ve made an error anywhere and I’ll amend it!

watch: one | two | three | four

read: two | three | four

ANNOUNCER (ON-SCREEN): ‘Alone Together’ - a DS9 companion, Episode 1 - ‘These Days’. It has been about 25 years since the Dominion War ended. The Federation isn’t quite the same. Starfleet is much more consistently militarized these days. Earth may be paradise, but humanity is less ideologically empathetic. Since the recent Romulan attempts to extinguish synthetic life by infiltrating Starfleet Command, benevolence is taking a backseat to security these days.

Elim Garak has been Castellan of the Cardassian Assembly since the new order was established following the Dominion War. Garak, of course, also has direct control over a newly resurrected Obsidian Order, though not by title.

Julian Bashir is still a doctor on Deep Space 9 but is also coordinating the activities of Section 31. What we’ve learned is that upon sharing a consciousness with Luther Sloane using stolen Romulan technology, his genetically enhanced brain committed much of what he learned to his eidetic memory. That information had to be contained but could be put to good use. He was given little choice in the matter. Maintaining his cover as a Chief Medical Officer in the Bajoran sector met his needs, and he saw no reason to change.

[fade to black]

JULIAN BASHIR (VOICE ONLY): Mission log, stardate 737114. I’m approaching Cardassia Prime in response to a rather enigmatic request for medical aid from Castellan Garak, the leader of the Cardassian government. Though it’s hardly surprising that Garak might be withholding information, it seems that a reunion of sorts will be forthcoming. I’ve left the Infirmary in the capable hands of Doctor Jabara while I’m off the station. I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to expect.

JULIAN (ON-SCREEN): Bashir to Central Command, I’ve just entered orbit of Cardassia Prime, requesting approval to transport to Cardassia.

ELIM GARAK (VOICE ONLY): Stand by, Doctor. Don’t be in such a hurry.

JULIAN: Garak. I didn’t expect you to be at the Central Command, it’s good to hear your voice.

GARAK: My dear doctor, are we starting the lies already?

JULIAN (LAUGHING): It’s true, Garak. It’s good to hear your voice! That’s not a- Look, more importantly, if you’ll grant approval I can beam to your current location.

GARAK: Doctor, I’m not at Central Command. I’ve merely intercepted your subspace communications link. Unfortunately, Doctor, the Federation will not be setting foot on Cardassia today, and, to be quite honest, you don’t want to be here.

JULIAN: Garak, your message suggested some urgency in my arrival. Quite frankly, what the hell am I doing here if I can’t beam down?

GARAK: Would you uh- [laughs] believe pure, unadulterated nostalgia?

JULIAN: Would you?

GARAK (ON-SCREEN): [laughs] I missed you too Doctor. So, how is life on the station?

JULIAN: Well, Bajoran fashions just aren’t the same since you left.

GARAK: I’m sure.

JULIAN: But much of life has returned to what it once was, as much as it ever could, I suppose. Now-

GARAK: I was sorry to hear about Dax.

JULIAN: Thank you. I um… I miss Ezri every day. Ten years. I, well, that is- we, Dax and I, we tried to make it work. I- I was so happy Dax made it back to Trill on time. Cairn and I, we were very different people. He’s a botanist – can you imagine? Dax as a botanist. I suppose it’s why Keiko didn’t seem to mind my business as much. She and Dax had so much to talk about but, well, once the Symbiosis Commission discovered our continued relationship, well, we just uh- we couldn’t-

GARAK: Doctor, there’s no need to explain.

JULIAN: No. Dax always encouraged me to talk about my feelings, though there’s not much else to say, really. I had never really considered being in love with another man, but it was Dax. Ezri, Jadzia, even Cairn, it was Dax, is Dax. But we- we just couldn’t- I didn’t-

GARAK: It is difficult to find a good counselor to sort out our deepest sorrows these days.

JULIAN: I suppose it is.

GARAK: You’re an honourable man, Doctor. You loved Dax, you could do nothing less than your heart demanded. I know the pain of love all too well, especially a love that has everything working against it.

JULIAN: Ziyal.

GARAK: Ziyal, yes. Yes, even exiles have hearts, Doctor. Even [laughs] Elim Garak. When it comes right down to it, he has a heart as well. In fact, my heart is partially the reason why I’m here.

JULIAN: So, this is a house call? Damn it, Garak, why didn’t you tell me on subspace? What- what are your symptoms? Why don’t you want me to beam down?

GARAK: Well, so many questions, one hardly knows which to answer first.

JULIAN: Your symptoms, Garak. What is wrong with your heart?

GARAK: Well, it’s not just my heart, Doctor. Actually the most concerning symptom seems to be a degenerative condition that causes the ill to be especially susceptible to suggestion. Luckily my infection is relatively new, and rather unexplained as my exposure to the public tends to be limited to state functions and the like, you know, the life of a politician.

JULIAN: The ill? Garak, what are you saying?

GARAK: A virus, Doctor. Cardassia appears to be facing a- a minor health issue. We’re trying to contain the infection to one region, but we may have moved… far too late.

JULIAN: A minor health issue? You are a champion of understatement! ‘The ill’ suggests that this isn’t just about you but your ability to hide the facts seems to have been tainted over the years.

GARAK: Doctor?

JULIAN: Since your speech at the Lakarian City memorial, the ridges on your neck have grown paler and your breathing rate has increased.

GARAK: You liked my speech?

JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, you contacted me! How is this the first time that I’m hearing about this? Why is the planet not being quarantined? Your message said ‘medical aid’ – I assumed that I was just coming here as a preliminary consultation having something to do with one of your colonies. Now it sounds like an outbreak that needs to be contained.

GARAK: Doctor, quarantine means announcing the problem to the galaxy. This is an internal matter. You obviously don’t appreciate the severity of this virus, but you needn’t worry – no one is allowed to leave Cardassia, no one is currently being permitted to enter the atmosphere.

JULIAN: I cannot imagine you can contain the population without a reason. Just how bad is it?

GARAK: Oh, I’ve given them a reason, Doctor, but you shouldn’t worry about that. There are more important things requiring your focus right now.

JULIAN: Of course. How much- how many are infected?

GARAK: At last count, the virus had been contained to three continents. Nearly 68% of the population in those regions has been infected.

JULIAN: And you call it a ‘minor issue’ Garak?! That’s a pandemic!

GARAK: Doctor, when I say that the ill have developed a degenerative condition, I speak specifically of their thought processes. It is true that we have determined that it is a virus – a biological contaminant of sorts – but the Central Command is hardly a healthcare organization and while the degeneration is affecting the cardiopulmonary system as well, all of the symptoms seem to be driven by misfiring neurons, and therein lies the problem.

JULIAN: A virus that affects the brain is no small problem. The fact that early infections are showing in terms of dysfunction relatively mild systems doesn’t mean people won’t start to die.

GARAK: Yes, Doctor. And I haven’t.

JULIAN: My God, Garak. You’re infected.

GARAK: Why do you think I contacted you? I want the best.

JULIAN: And hoping that my genetic enhancements will allow me to diagnose your symptoms without scanning equipment?

GARAK: I really have missed your mistrust, Doctor. The physicians here have the tendency to avoid the necessary dispassion for harder truths. You, however, have a refreshingly forthright bedside manner.

JULIAN: Wow, a compliment. You must be neurologically compromised. Well of course, of course I’ll do everything that I can. Do you know anything more about the virus? How is it passed on? How does it proliferate in the body? Have your doctors attempted any therapies that show any promise?

GARAK: Well, it seems to take several days to propagate in the carrier. During that time, sufferers develop a rather serious cough... [inaudible] …the dispatcher reaches the brain so our assumption it that it is spread through the air. Most hospitals have been closed to all but the infected to try and control the outbreak. As a result, our doctors are learning from their patients as they are treating them. As it stands now, they can only treat symptoms. Medical staff is reporting to external bodies to ensure that anyone studying the infection isn’t also battling a neurological disease. Progress is limited and all too slow.

JULIAN: Garak, I’m not sure how I can help you if I can’t examine you or access your data.

GARAK: Doctor, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk. After all, I’m counting on you to save us all. And I believe that an outside perspective may be exactly what we need.

JULIAN: So no pressure?

GARAK: You’re a bright man, Doctor – put that genetically-enhanced brain of yours to work.

JULIAN: Well, I can’t examine you from orbit. My shuttlecraft sensors may be able to me that you’re alive, they can isolate you for transport, but they can hardly determine more than the most modest of life signs, and while I can see outward symptoms, Garak, I can’t for the life of me figure out how to see through your skull. I suppose I could transport a tricorder down there for a preliminary scan.

GARAK: I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Doctor.

JULIAN: Oh, of course you can’t. Can you send me your most recent medical scans?

GARAK: Unfortunately, no.

JULIAN: And why not?

GARAK: All of my genuine medical records are routinely deleted and replaced with falsified data. All data rods in which those records once existed have been destroyed, all computers in which the data rods were placed have been vaporized. My dear doctor, I’m the leader of the Cardassian people! Especially now, I can’t afford to broadcast my weaknesses to all, to anyone who feels they could exploit them.

JULIAN: The more things change, the more they remain the same.

GARAK: Meaning?

JULIAN: A presumption of godliness, most certainly a great paranoia. You haven’t managed to find yourself a staff that you trust to protect your life. To be quite honest, I’m surprised your staff doesn’t have implants that allow you to control them.

GARAK: Oh, Doctor, your assumptions hurt me deeply! Of course they do. If news of this infection gets out, and I can’t be clearer than this, Cardassia will be devastated. And we won’t be the only world that will fall.

JULIAN: Garak, you seem to believe that I can cure this virus from orbit, without any information.

GARAK: Well, Doctor, this virus doesn’t only infect the average citizen. Everyone is at risk. Everyone – the government, the military. Imagine if only a few of their people were infected. They find it difficult to concentrate. They’re finding themselves susceptible to suggestion. And what if intelligence agents of foreign governments found their way to Cardassia during this crisis?

JULIAN: It could destroy the Cardassia you’ve been rebuilding for over two decades.

GARAK: Yes.

JULIAN: But quarantine would keep foreign nationals off-planet and keep the rest of us safe from infection, assuming it can even infect off-worlders.

GARAK: Again, Doctor, it would announce the problem before we have a solution.

JULIAN: But it could help produce the solution you so desperately need!

GARAK: The risk is too great, Doctor.

JULIAN: Garak! Lives are at stake!

GARAK: Hundreds, perhaps thousands, to save billions. Doctor – will. You. Help. Me?

JULIAN: First and foremost, I’m a doctor, Garak. And I’m your friend.

GARAK: Yes. One more thing we should keep to ourselves.

JULIAN: You know Garak… you are being more paranoid than usual. You remind me of the exiled tailor I met so many years ago.

GARAK: Ah, but as you said yourself Doctor, the more things change-

JULIAN: The more they stay the same. But Garak, so much has changed. You’re the leader of your people.

GARAK: Julian… let’s drop the pretensions, shall we?

JULIAN: Whatever do you mean?

GARAK: You know that I have rebuilt the Obsidian Order, and the reason that I know that you know is because I know that you are working for Starfleet Intelligence. Your posting at Deep Space 9 is merely your cover. Why would a religious sanctuary like Deep Space 9 need a doctor of your capability, with such a limited Starfleet presence? I must admit, you have done an excellent job of obscuring your intelligence role.

JULIAN: Dear, dear Garak. Have you been keeping tabs on me? I suppose of all people you would be the only person I might be able to trust with such information. Assuming any of your conclusions are true. But Starfleet still has a presence and Deep Space 9 is still a major way station for commerce and diplomacy in the Bajoran sector.

GARAK: Of course you can trust me with sensitive information Julian-

JULIAN: [chuckles]

GARAK: -at least until there’s a reason you can’t. Oh, but let’s hope it never comes to that. I do like you; I did from the very beginning. You may be my only true friend. Since Mila’s passing, our all too infrequent exchanges have been my only respite from a world without trust. The political world on Cardassia deplores a vacuum and the old ways are clung to, even after the war. It took me years to bring Cardassians around to another way of thinking. The arts are celebrated, the people are fed. Life is no longer a struggle, but… paranoia is rampant once more.

JULIAN: Then I suppose you’ve been the ideal leader.

GARAK: Well, I do appear to have the appropriate skill set and experience, yes.

JULIAN: You could always go back to being a plain, simple tailor.

GARAK (LAUGHING): You would be surprised by how many of my old vocations I still dabble in. I’ve even taken up taxidermy! Yes, it’s true! But stuffing a tribble isn’t as challenging as perhaps a six-legged [uncertain] marsupial, but it passes the time. And so many wonderful things fit inside an animal that need only trill to appear alive.

JULIAN: [laughs]

GARAK: But as you said Julian, you are my friend, and one of the things I learned from working in the Obsidian Order under Enabran Tain, was that friends are a liability. Enemies are easy. Friends… friends are the challenge. When I was his protégé I had a job to do, relationships were tools to achieve my objectives. I don’t have time for friends, I don’t have room for emotional attachments.

JULIAN: And then you were exiled.

GARAK: And then… I was exiled.

JULIAN: I had no idea.

GARAK: About what?

JULIAN: Am I your only friend?

GARAK: Well… the only one living.

JULIAN: You said that your cardiopulmonary system seems to be demonstrating symptoms consistent with this neurolytic virus.

GARAK: Mm-hmm.

JULIAN: I need to at least access the database being used by the off-site researchers working on a cure.

GARAK: I’m sorry to disappoint you, Doctor – I’ve never been an ideal patient, as you well know. But while I trust you, I cannot risk any access that Starfleet Intelligence might have built into your shuttle.

JULIAN: Garak, you’re tying my hands. Do you have access to a medical scanner? Can you scan yourself?

GARAK: I’ve been a tailor, a gardener, a spy, who’s to say I’m not a doctor as well?

JULIAN: I suppose stranger things have happened.

GARAK: Oh, a shapeshifter saved the galaxy by going for a swim, a Starfleet captain turned out to be a god, a Cardassian legate turned out to be the devil, you were married to a woman three centuries your senior – stranger things, my dear doctor, happen all the time.

JULIAN: You may have a point. Although to be fair, Dax is three hundred years older, not Ezri. Ezri was several years younger than me.

GARAK: Semantics, Doctor.

JULIAN: Ah, here we are.

GARAK: I’m sorry?

JULIAN: I’ve created an encrypted backdoor to your central database.

GARAK: Ooh, of course you did. Yes, but it won’t help you. Our researches are working in a closed system, it is impossible to access their research through the central network.

JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, I’m trying to help you! I encrypted the access, there was no danger to you or you people! I used a fractal regression to develop access points at either end.

GARAK: And I sincerely appreciate your efforts, Julian. That’s why you’re here. And of course that is why I am convinced no one else will be able to save us.

JULIAN: I cannot do this without any information about the pathogen. And even the smartest person in the galaxy would be hard-pressed to develop a cure to an unknown virus quickly enough to prevent its spread or knowledge of its existence to the outside world.

GARAK: I have faith in you, Doctor. And to put your mind at ease, you should know that very few citizens on Cardassia are even aware that they are infected. And I’ve committed the Order to a substantial misinformation campaign to keep it that way.

JULIAN: How long do you expect that to last? The longer the infected believe that they’re free to live their normal lives or even to travel to and from health centers for treatment for whatever malady they believe they have, the faster the real virus will spread.

GARAK: Well, it seems its symptoms vary in their intensity. The cough can be persistent or periodic. And when that initial symptom passes, the neurological symptoms cause sufferers to present a variety of ailments. It is only those doctors who discovered the virus and were subsequently visited by some associates that are aware of the larger problem. And they are the very physicians currently researching the virus on my behalf.

JULIAN: If you are able to contact them then there’s no reason that I can’t access their data!

GARAK: Doctor, we’ve been through this.

JULIAN: Garak, we’ve been through a lot of things!

GARAK (LAUGHING): Yes.

JULIAN: You didn’t call me here to explain Cardassia’s post-war isolationist bureaucracy!

GARAK: [laughs]

JULIAN: I came because a friend in need asked me!

GARAK: You didn’t know why I called you, Doctor. So please, don’t offer me your selfless pretense.

JULIAN: Pretense?! You think after all this time your lives and deceptions would keep me from helping you? I can tell when you’re lying Garak, and you know when I’m telling the truth. I promise you that no one will ever know about your role in the cover-up of the virus, at least not from me.

GARAK: I… I want you to set course for the southern polar region of Cardassia Prime. The magnetic interference will make it more difficult for prying eyes to access your subspace signal. You’ll find that my alleged paranoia has a purpose.

JULIAN: Computer, set course 118 mark 72.

COMPUTER: [chimes] Acknowledged.

JULIAN: Engage at one-quarter impulse.

COMPUTER: Course laid in. [chimes]

JULIAN: My signal was encrypted from the very beginning. I assume the same is true of the signal you used to isolate and redirect my subspace carrier wave. Isn’t it a little bit late to begin worrying now, Garak?

GARAK: Our signal may be secure between one another, but any system can be breached given enough time and expertise. And what I have to tell you…

JULIAN: Just tell me, Garak. I’m over the polar region as you asked.

GARAK: Yes, so you are, so you are. Now, good, wait- wait… Good. Now that we’re comfortably alone, let me ask you this: do viruses normally pop up undetected in a population with little to no prior warning? And how many unknown pathogens exist in a planetary ecosystem with our level of technological development?

JULIAN: Well, to be quite honest, pathogens can unexpectedly adapt or cross species barriers. Centuries ago on Earth, industrial pollution led to a climate change which in turn caused previously isolated microorganisms to be released into the biosphere.

GARAK: Yes, you truly have an answer for everything.

JULIAN: It comes in handy. But I suspect you’re going somewhere with this so please, continue.

GARAK: Our research has found some… peculiarities in the viral RNA, and admittedly I don’t understand all of the specifics, but, to put it bluntly, the virus has been engineered. I’m sending you two images of the viral RNA we’ve discovered. The images are all that I can risk sending you now. If you can find the source, you may find a cure. Alternatively, if a cure was not developed… you can avenge my death.

JULIAN: Not currently one of my skill sets, Garak. But why the pretense? You could’ve told me this immediately- actually, don’t answer that. I’ll need some time to do an analysis of this to determine what might work to counteract the viral infection. Annoyingly, there is no systemic treatment that I can even begin to research without knowing the underlying cause. But over the last twenty-five years, you must’ve made all sorts of new enemies. According to the latest intelligence, the only dangerous political intrigue is coming out of the Romulan Empire these days.

GARAK: Yes, well, leading a government comes with its own risks, to be sure, Doctor. But why do they have to be new enemies? Of course the Romulans have never been great fans of mine – I mean I left their embassy’s grounds-keeping staff so many years ago. Oh, those poor orchids, they’ll never be the same. And there’s always Kai.

JULIAN: The Kai.

GARAK: Ah, Kira- Kira, dear Kira’s never been a fan of mine.

JULIAN: We both know that Nerys would have never worked this slowly if she wanted to kill you.

GARAK: [laughs]

JULIAN: And she would only kill you. But Nerys is hardly the same person since she left the militia to join the Vedek Assembly, and now that she’s the Kai, this level of genetic manipulation would have to accomplished by someone with intimate knowledge of the Cardassian physiology as well as the capacity to evade security of your medical system.

GARAK: Yes, although like I said, it is an internal Cardassian matter. I’m sure there are plenty of elder Cardassians who would enjoy watching my life come to an end from torture. Dukat’s father- I mean, uh… [laughs] to one kanar-induced tryst with the man himself, to finally becoming involved with Ziyal, and whatever else-

JULIAN: Wait- wait, wait, wait you- hang on, you- you and Dukat?

GARAK: Ooh, yes. Surprising, isn’t it? Yes, two nights, maybe, before my exile, I’d been feeling quite powerful. I wouldn’t have normally lowered my guard even among my fellow Cardassians. Dukat was enjoying his second bottle of kanar, was looking for someone to blame for his most recent failures to overcome the Bajoran resistance, and there I was. He promised my death from across Quark’s bar. Later that evening he found his way back to my table to apologize – uncharacteristic, absolutely, to be sure. But kanar can do that to a man. We stole away to a quiet corner on the second level to talk, and then we found our way to an unoccupied holosuite.

JULIAN: I don’t know what to say.

GARAK: Well, I don’t need to tell you, Doctor – it was an unplanned direction for my evening to take. And suffice to say it didn’t soften Dukat’s general opinion of me. [laughs] He did keep his distance for a long time afterward.

JULIAN: So, that story had a happy ending, if you’ll pardon the pun.

GARAK: Pun?

JULIAN: Uh, it- it’d be funny on Earth. Though tragic, too – sort of like a sad clown, really. Miles will love it.

GARAK: Doctor, could we perhaps find out what is slowly eating away at me before revealing my darkest secrets to Professor O’Brien over an ale.

JULIAN: Of course, of course. I think the first step is to cross-reference known immunogenic agents that could have been introduced into your system. Even if the virus is a new pathogen, its mode of infection could be a million different things. You should review your schedule and try and determine an environment over which your control was limited, a place where the food and drink could’ve been tampered with or perhaps a place where you could have been unexpectedly exposed to an air assault. But… about this dalliance with Dukat-

GARAK: Oh Doctor, please. Provincial human attitudes aside-

JULIAN: Of course.

GARAK: -your species didn’t always have synthehol, and every species seems to go through a period of poor choices. Believe it or not, Cardassians are a passionate people, a people who yearn to find joy wherever it may lie. And remember, that we were in the midst of a Bajoran occupation and there wasn’t much joy to be had for those of us assigned to Terok Nor. Decades later, my reforms are helping to shape a modern Cardassia.

JULIAN: Understood. Though I take exception to the word ‘provincial’.

GARAK: Oh, of course you do. Now, let me take a look at my agenda… According to my doctors, I could have been exposed more than a month ago.

JULIAN: A month? Well, you certainly waited long enough to contact me.

GARAK: Well, well we do have doctors on Cardassia, and I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I didn’t look to my own people before seeking outside assistance. However, I’m not naïve enough to trust them completely. And what kind of leader would I be if I did?

JULIAN: Fair enough. I need to get some biometric information, please, from you if I’m even to begin researching cures. Can you transport yourself to a hospital with proper scanning equipment that I can access?

GARAK: Oh dear, I- I- I can do better than that, Doctor. I can do better than that. My residence is equipped with some of the best holographic technology in the quadrant – what type of equipment do we need?

JULIAN: I didn’t realize Cardassia had made such strides in holography.

GARAK: Oh, the technology is Federation, actually. Cardassian engineers build wonderful ships, but their work with artificial intelligence isn’t what it should be. Political life has its perks – I even have an EMH.

JULIAN: Well can I talk to him?

GARAK: Doctor, he’s obviously offline during this crisis. We’re wasting time better spent on the issue at hand! Now shall we begin?

JULIAN: Alright. Well the first thing we’ll need is a standard biobed with-

GARAK: Doctor, doctor, wait- I’m detecting a coherent signal directed at your shuttle. Yes, the magnetic currents over the poles should’ve obscured your presence. We may have a problem.

JULIAN: Hang on, it looks like an encrypted subspace signal… but I can’t determine the origin. Stand by, I’m trying- it’s… it’s from Earth. Well, I think I’ve got it. One moment… Jake?

[fade to black]

[CREDITS]

#ds9 #deep space nine #garashir #julian bashir #elim garak #alone together #long post #writing this out forced me to write about garak and d*kat f*cking and i absolutely hate that

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greyias · 4 years ago

Text

Time to go Full Gravedrog

Hey guys. You know what we haven’t done in a while? That’s right! Put on our tinfoil hats, get tangled up in an entire spool of red string, and do a ridiculous deep dive on lore and make up wild insane theories about the upcoming story drop!

That’s right we’ve got some--

First up. If you haven’t watched it already, here’s the trailer for the 6.2 story drop, specifically for the storyline we’ll be doing our deep dive on, Echoes of Oblivion.

youtube

Are you pumped? I’M PUMPED. Let’s do this!

Okay, so there’s a lot to unpack here, and I’m going to state outright, that the chances of this being on the money like Gravedrog is... well. I’ve got no lottery numbers for you this time around. I can’t believe no one took me up on that offer. There’s always the possibility the storyline has absolutely nothing to do with any previously established lore, and they create something wholly new. And hey, if that’s the case, this is just free fanfic fodder for the masses.

But Charles did mention, I believe on the forums(?), that he’s seen one person guess what’s going on. The real question is... WHO GUESSED IT. HMM.

So I’ve been wanting to actually do a post on this a while, at least since Arcann’s voice actor accidentally made the slip up about Thexan being in this story drop. A large part of this theory/discovery goes to the lovely @confettininjabean, who found this piece of lore when we were getting tangled up in red string back in the Gravedrog days, pre-Nathema Conspiracy. Let’s just say, there was a... certain interaction on Twitter that had us thinking this had something to do with NC, and when it didn’t pan out we were like “Oh, weird, guess that wasn’t on the right track” and forgot about it.

Well, sort of. Because we were like, “that really seemed significant considering”, but hey, sometimes you hit upon a Gravedrog, sometimes you think Indo Zal is an evil mastermind playing 4D chess. In other words, when it comes to red string theories, you win some. You lose some.

Anyway. I forget why, but I went perusing on Wookieepedia a few months ago, looking back up this sort of obscure piece of lore for some reason. And something about it was.... FAMILIAR.

The article in question: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Thought_bomb

May I direct your attention, to this part:

Hey. Where have I heard that before?

Aw. Aw shit. Well I mean, that can’t be right though, right? Because it’s Satele and a bunch of Jedi/like-minded Force users that are being possessed right? And besides this is an an ancient Sith ritual thought to be created by...

Oh.

Oh wait.

But that’s a plague right? Not the same thing as a thought bomb. I mean it’s not like anyone in SWTOR has dealt with a Force plague--

Oh. huh. But you might say, “But Grey, that plague was invented by Terrak Morrhage, not Vitiate.” And you would be right! What I can’t seem to find confirmation of, thus far, is exactly when Terrak Morrhage lived, but by me and Jayde’s current reckoning, it seems like he may have been around possibly during the Great Hyperspace War, the end of which Vitiate used in his mad grab for immortality and power, manipulating what was probably a majority of the remaining Sith Lords into his brand spanking new ritual that he just needed a little help with.

Okay, and this is where we leave lore land, and enter into speculation land. I, um, just got sidetracked on Jedipedia (I’ll get to that), trying to find a codex entry regarding Vitiate I know I’ve read but I lost at some point. So, we’re going off memory here, but I’m fairly certain it’s stated in canon somewhere that prior to his ascension, Vitiate was obsessed with Sith alchemy and ancient Sith rituals. So if Morrhage pre-dated him, or was a peer, it’s possible Vitiate was able to learn about his plague, and adapt it to some of his other experiments.

Okay, back to the thought bomb for a moment. Full disclosure, I haven’t read the Darth Bane novels, so I’m going off of Wookiepeedia here instead of the source material (which is always a dicey affair), it says Bane adapted the thought bomb from notes on the ritual Vitiate performed. So, it’s possible the thought bomb is not a 100% Vitiate original, just a bastardization of it. But it’s interesting that the ritual itself gathers up and shreds the Force essence/soul of everyone in its path. Well, I mean, horrifying. But in this theory’s perspective, interesting in that when Vitiate used Zildrog as part of his ritual--where did all of the Force go exactly?

Because as you wander around Nathema, you hear the tortured whispers of every soul obliterated during that ritual.

This is talked about a little in the Revan novel, and it’s been a few years since I read it so I’m kind of going off memory again, but he basically created a void in the Force there. And remember... in the KOTET chapter we went to Nathema, he was actually visibly afraid a few times. Hmm... now why would that be? Was it Vaylin he was afraid of? Was it something else?

If memory serves, there wasn’t an actual explosion like as described with the thought bomb--because he wasn’t using the ritual as a weapon. He was using it to gather power, to shuffle off this mortal coil and live eternal as an annoying spirit who you just can’t quite squash out no matter how many mind mazes you build to keep him locked up. So, and again, this is speculation land, but all of that swirling Force and dead energy had to go somewhere right? I mean, Zildrog had his snack and went omnomnom, but where did the Force power go? And why was there a Void that constantly pulled at him and sapped away his power on Nathema?

Is it because the Force didn’t explode? Is it because he bound it up in his old disgusting decaying old man flesh? And the only reason he was alive because he basically made himself a little flesh horcrux that was destroyed at the exact moment we sent him off to the Void that he feared so much?

Hmm. Interesting.

Wait. Wait a second... I think there was something else he mentioned. Now, what was it?

You know, I had always assumed he was talking about Gravedrog being unleashed, since the whole reason he went to Zakuul was likely to find the Gravestone so he could pair it with Zildrog back on Nathema, and enact his galaxy-wide extinction event.

And maybe he was.

Or was he talking about his failsafe.

The one he knew would happen if someone destroyed his old, withered, icky body?

So... if the ritual/plague is some take on the thought bomb, and it infects any Force user like some prescient, who could have realized this is what 2020 held in store for us pandemic that spread rapidly and consumed everyone who touched it, until it made manifest what was once just thought...

Is the whole entire point of this to bring Valky back from the dead? Or is it just his last revenge? And what on earth would that last revenge be? Well... and just hear me out. Say there was this guy. Kind of an asshole. And he had this whole schtick about killing every single living thing in the galaxy and liked to consume whole planets in a single gulp just for funsies. Wouldn’t it be so funny if he, say, in the unlikely event he possessed some Outlander who happened to go “get out and get a job loser!” and booted him off to the beyond, and at the same time his old indentured servant and that chick he once possessed found his horcrux and destroyed that, wouldn’t it be a kick if that somehow kicked off a plague that consumed every single Force user in the entire galaxy until it had enough power and then exploded and completely wiped out all life in the galaxy, so that if the asshole who’s name totally isn’t Valkorion couldn’t live forever then neither could any. single. thing. in. the. galaxy.

I mean, that or it’s just a ploy to get him into one final boss fight.

But i dunno... I kind of just found the entire cast list of who’s in the Echoes of Oblivion storyline (warning, major spoilers and datamining on that link, and yes, that’s what distracted me on Jedipedia) and I’m kind of thinking. Having to keep the entire galaxy from being consumed by a sociopath’s final revenge kind of sounds like a pretty epic finale, don’t you?

And hey, if not. Free fanfic idea for anyone who wants it.

Oh yeah, also predicting the following:

We’re going on another mindscape adventure like in KOTET Chapter 9, but it’s Satele’s mind we’re in

It’s not actually Valkorion/Vitiate/Tenebrae, but a remnant/essence of him that’s made manifest by the ritual. Also he needs a combo nickname because I’m tired of having to pick one of three names. I shall call you Valkiatebrae. It’s a beautiful name. I know he’ll love it.

Vaylin and Thexan who we see in the trailer are probably also manifestations conjured by the quasi- Valkiatebrae

We’re going to Ossus? Or Ossus in Satele’s mind?

The Knight and crew missed a few of the death cult back in the storyline, and that’s who was either watching Tenebrae’s body, or who hijacked Satele’s ship OR they have some part in the ritual (perhaps the part to physically manifest Valkiatebrae). We see them in the trailer above.

Regardless if any single one of these predictions is right I’m going to die of feels

Because I think Satele and Theron may have a scene together????? OMG

I’m screaming again

I’ll stop now

I’m sorry Charles I hope I didn’t do it to you again I couldn’t help myself, but hey at least I kept it in this long

EDITED TO ADD: Okay guys, I’ve been looking more at Jedipedia. I think I can safely hazard a guess that a LOT of fans of different characters are going to be super happy with this update. Just saying.

#the return of spoilers grey #swtor spoilers #spoilers and speculation #swtor 6.2 spoilers #swtor 6.2 #honestly there's a lot more #but i've been thinking about this for so long #i know i've forgotten to include half of it #and i haven't had time to find all of my source #but here you go guys!#one last hurrah #and i even found a way to shoehorn gravedrog in there for you!

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hotpinkrathian · 4 years ago

Text

Kyalin Week Day 6

Prompt Chosen- Modern AU

Now, I know people are tired of hearing about the pandemic, however when I saw Modern Au as an option on there I just had to write Kyalin during quarantine... it was too tempting.

"We have to quarantine at home for two weeks, its mandatory." Kya explained.

"I want even at the hospital, how could I have gotten it?"

"Because I was at the hospital, I could have it, and spread it to you." Lin crossed her arms, releasing a dramatic groan.

"Come on Lin, I know it's not ideal, and I'm sorry, but look on the bright side. We get two weeks off, just the two of us. We could, you know, try that thing you mentioned the other night."

"That was you who mentioned that."

"Well you didn't shoot it down, so its both our ideas now." Lin sighed, pursing her lips and Kya wrapped her in a hug.

"Alright, but as soon as my two weeks are up I'm going back to work."

"Of course." Kya kissed her on the cheek, watching as Lin disappeared into the bedroom. Her eyes panned the apartment, it looked like it could use a clean, so she got to work.

"What are we going to do for food?" Lin asked, staring into the empty fridge.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Kya, we have no food in here." Kya came up behind her, placing her chin in the nook of her neck, frowning at the sight of the fridge light that illuminated nothing but the shelves.

"We eat out too much. I can call Tenzin maybe he can bring us some supplies."

"No, Tenznin will bring us a very selective diet and If I'm going to be in here for two weeks then I need real food. You know Kya, these abs don't feed themselves." Kya raised an eyebrow, moments away from kissing Lin, when the earthbender pulled out her phone.

"Mako? Okay... okay... look, I'm out for two weeks. Try not to start a gang war while I'm gone. I need you to do something for me."

"Tell him to get KitKat!" Kya said, Lin raised a finger, telling Mako to get a pen and paper.

"You ready?" Lin asked him, and began to fill him in on their grocery desires.

"Pretzels too! I could use pretzels right about now..." Lin added pretzels to list of demands. Finally when they were satisfied with the list, they hung up the phone.

"He says he'll be around in an hour. He went to get Asami because he's never gotten groceries on this scale before."

"Smart." Kya smiled up at Lin, who was checking her phone. "So..." Kya said, drumming her fingers on the counter, "what should we do for an hour?" Lin looked up, putting her phone face down on the counter.

"Well you're practically undressing me with your eyes."

"Am not!"

"Oh yeah?. What color bra do I have.on today?" Kya pursed her lips, thinking.

"White."

"Wrong, black."

"What? No.I remember this morning you-" she stopped as Lin pulled open her flannel, revealing the black bra she was indeed wearing.

"You tricked me." Lin smirked, walking around the counter and planting a kiss on Kya's lips.

"I have some paperwork to get done, call me when Mako gets here." Lin smirked as she walked off, and Kya glared at her, running her tongue over her teeth. Thinking about how there's no one else she'd rather be quarantined with.

Mako knocked, letting them know their things were outside their door, as per standard, they waited until the two kids had left before picking up their things, Lin put four bags on her arms, gesturing for Kya to take the remaining two. She put the stuff on the counter, and watched as Kya took the time to wipe everything with Lysol.

"Kya," Lin said seriously, "are you worried at all? About this whole thing?"

"Like being quarantined? No not all."

"No, not that, I mean more like the pandemic in general."

"Oh. I haven't really thought about it, but yeah, I guess I am. I'm worried about mom, I know she's safe as she could be in the south pole, but this isn't how I want her to go. Are you worried about Toph?"

"Are you kidding me? The woman couldn't die if she tried!" They laughed, and Lin put her hands behind her, gripping the edge of the counter. "In all serious, I'm more worried about the people, the news says the unemployment rate has sky rocketed in the last few days."

"Lin?" Kya asked, putting the wipes down. "We're good right? Financially?"

"Oh dear, of course. I've been working for thirty years, saved up as much as I could not to mention my share of the Beifong fortune... its not me I worry about."

"Mako?"

"Yeah."

"He'll be alright, we won't let anything happen to him. I bet Asami and Korra already have a plan for him that he's completely unaware of in case things go south." Lin smiled and Kya lifted her lips to Lin's scarred cheek.

"Come on," she said, "help me put this stuff away."

The two of them cooked together for supper, and Lin almost forgot what it was like to be home for supper, let alone to cook it.

"Okay I think I got it," Kya said, lifting the spoon to her mouth.

"Kya, that's the stirring spoon you can't lick it and put back."

"Oh yeah? Watch me." Kya drew her tongue over the spoon, maintaining eye contact with Lin and causing her to blush. Lin gulped, breaking the eye contact and Kya returned the spoon to the pot, stirring the sauce again. Lin went for the sink, grabbing Kya's butter as she went past.

"Lin!" She yelped, swatting her girlfriend playfully on the shoulder.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Yeah right!"

"I swear!" Kya narrowed her eyes, seeing through Lin's weak attempt to hide a smile. Lin set the salad and the bread on the table, ordering the plates and glasses across form each other, lighting a candle in the center.

"Whats going on?" Kya asked, looking at Lin's arrangement.

"I figure, since we're here, I might as well make up for all the date nights I've had to reschedule, or cancel, and never got around to it." Kya looked at her thoughtfully, putting her pot on the table.

"You're telling me I've been on a date this whole time and didn't know?"

"Yep. Surprise," Kya stifled a laugh and sat across from Lin, staring at the other girl lovingly.

"Well, you should know I don't usually go home with someone on the first date."

"Well good thing its not the first date then." Kya raised her eyebrows, her eyes still locked with Lin as she brought a piece of food to her mouth. Lin caught Kya up on everything in her life, the abnormally quiet Pice Chief talked on and on, and Kya listened, absorbing every word of it.

"Kya?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you finished?"

"Oh, yeah,' she said, sitting up. Lin took her plate, and Kya admired her from behind.

"Lin," she said, "put the dishes down."

"What?"

"We'll do them tomorrow. Please, just kiss me already."

"What if you have Covid?" Kya chuckled.

"Then we'll both have it anyway." She pushed herself off her chair, meeting Lin halfway across the kitchen, their lips meeting in an epic dance. Kya jumped, wrapping her legs around Lin's waist and the metalbender's hands found places underneath Kya's thighs to hold her. Lin set her on the kitchen counter, pushing her abdomen in between Kya's legs.

"Been a while since we've done this," Lin admitted between breaths.

"We haven't had time."

"Well, now we have two weeks to make up for it." Kya smiled as Lin's lips clashed with hers again.

"I love you," Kya whispered.

"I love you too."

1 week of quarantine

"Wait so what happened in the last movie?" Kya asked, just to get a rise out of Lin.

"Kya, were you even paying attention? Qui Gon and Obi-wan, master and Padwan head to the desolate planet of Tattooine where they-"

"Lin, I'm kidding." Lin rolled her eyes and Kya cuddle in close, reaching her arm over into the popcorn bowl on Lin's lap.

"Don't do that again or I'll spoil it for you." Kya laughed, pressing a light kiss on Lin's cheek. When Kya had mentioned she'd never seen a Star Wars movie, Lin had organized a rather professional viewing of them all, in chronological order. Kya would much rather be doing something else, but she could see how excited Lin was to watch them with her, so she did. All the good (and bad) the movied had to offer.

"Whos that?"

"Anakin."

"The little boy?"

"Yeah, there's a time gap."

"Wow, he's so grown up."

"Just you wait," Lin said, placing a fistful of popcorn in her mouth. Befoee the movie could get any further, the phone rang, and Lin got up to answer it, letting the movie play for Kya.

"Hello? Pema is that you? Hmm? No we are just- really? Is everyone okay?" Kya sat up, looking over at her girlfriend with concern.

"Theres a breakout at the air temple," Lin whispered to Kya.

Oh no, poor Pema. I hope Rohan is okay.

"Is Tenzin there? Okay, well, try to stay calm, please Pema! Where's Jinora? Put her on the phone." Lin tapped the counter, waiting for the eldest of the Airbender kids to come to the phone.

"Jinora? Is everyone okay? Ikki has it? You need to keep her away from the others, don't let Rohan out of his room, and please, try to keep you're mother calm until your father gets home tomorrow. Yes... I love you too Jinora, good bye, as soon as we can leave we'll come down there." Lin put her phone on the counter with a sigh, and Kya ran up to her.

"We have to go, I can help them!" Kya pleaded.

"No, dear, we can't help them. If we go there we are just exposing ourselves to it, and I don't like to admit but we aren't exactly spring pig-chickens anymore Kya." Kya frowned, crossing her arms.

"Lin, they are our family."

"I know Kya, but we can help them by staying here, and staying healthy. Don't forget we can be incarcerated for leaving." Kya growled, scrunched her nose and Lin reached her hand out on the counter.

"One more week to go, we got this. Remember what you told me, try to enjoy it."

"Pretty sure I said we could try that technique from that movie where I use waterbending to-"

"Well I paraphrased it." Kya's lips formed a smile, and her heart melted at the soft look Lin was giving her.

"Come on," she said, "let's watch this movie." Lin nodded and the two of them returned to the sofa, Kya resting her head on Lin's lap, her hair being tousled by the police chief. Every so often she'd look up at Lin, who was absolutely enticed by the movie, even though she said it was 'the worst one.' She fell asleep before the end, and Lin let Kya stay there long into the night, moving her only once her own bladder couldn't take it any longer, placing her in their bed. Kya groaned softly, rolling over and pulling all the blankets for herself. Lin crawled in behind her, still holding her in her arms.

3 Days until the end of quarantine.

"Kya, I know you've lost all sense of time, but you need to put clothes on."

"Whats the point? No one comes, no one goes. No one sees me. No one knows..."

"If you start speaking in poetry again I'm locking you in the bathroom."

"Go ahead, at least there I hear the voices from the drain." Kya groaned, flopping onto the couch face first. Lin sighed.

"Do you.... need to talk?" Lin almost choked on the words, but it got Kya's attention and she sat upright.

"I've always been an extrovert Lin. Im a people person and now that the people in my life have been removed... I'm just a person." Lin pursed her lips, she hadn't thought about it like that before. She had always been reserved, truthfully quarantine had been easy for her, she did daily workouts, reading... other stuff with Kya. But Kya couldn't be on her phone for more than half an hour without needing a change of space.

"I don't know how to help you with that..." Lin started, "but I can... give you a hug?" Kya smiled sadly and walked up to Lin, forgetting her nudity and hugging her.

"Lets go on the porch for a bit," Kya said, "I need some air."

"You're going to have to put some clothes on then, I don't think the neighbors will appreciate your tits being out the same way I do." Kya laughed, looking down at her torso.

"Oh they would. But fine. I'll put on some clothes, but you better be the one taking them off later."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Kya grinned, satisfied with that, before she could dissappear into the bathroom however, Lin called to her.

"Oh, Kya!"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"Maybe we can try that thing you mentioned last week." Kyas eyes went wide, and Lin smirked.

"This is why, I love you Lin Beifong."

"I love you too. Now go get dressed, we're going to miss the warmest part of the day." Kya sped off, and Lin watched her go, the same gentle smile pulling at the corners of her lips. I could be quarantined with her for the rest of my life, and I'd never get bored. When Kya returned, she skipped onto the porch, and Lin used her bending to extend the available area for the moment. Kya sat at the edge of the concrete, letting her feet hang over the edge, humming a gentle tune. Lin sat next to her, her lips pursed in indecision.

"Kya," she said, drawing the waterbenders crystal blue eyes to her. "When this is over, we should get married." Kyas eyes widened, and for a minute Lin thought she scared her, but then she was pulled into the most passionate kiss of the their relationship, nearly sending both of them to the ground below.

#lin beifong #team avatar #kyalin #legend of korra #kyalinweek2020

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elyella · 4 years ago

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I am a toxic fan...?

A lot of useless drama on twitter. A lot of worry and little certainty in the Waanjai community.

Many fans are considered toxic because they are afraid and contaminate others with their worries. There is fear for the future of this duo. We are afraid of losing them and we become paranoid.

On New Year's Eve, I will try to explain how and why I am among those who are worried. I don't want to cause more drama, but maybe my way of seeing the situation also represents the same way of thinking as some fans, who knows. And maybe people like me will realise that what they do is wrong if they understand the reasons behind their toxic behavior.

So. Voilà.

2020 has been a shitty year, let's be honest. For a lot of people on the planet.

But 2020 was an extraordinary year for MewGulf. Their career really took off. There are few artists for whom 2020 was a positive turning point in their career.

Do you realize? Not even a pandemic could stop MewGulf from arising.

I met them by chance in the midst of global confinement. They saved me. They brightened my dull days, they made me forget my anxieties. I was able to manage my stress and they distracted me from this pandemic, thanks to their presence. I became very attached to this duo because they managed to bring some light into my life. I think I am not the only one they have saved this year. 2020 has been shitty. A lot of people have turned to drugs, antidepressants and alcohol to deal with fear, anxiety and worry about the future. As for me, I have relied on MewGulf. They were the ones who played the role of antidepressants. And I am sure that this is also the case for many people on the planet. Throughout 2020, these people -unconsciously or consciously- relied on this duo to cheer them up.

The couple they form has acted on us as a balm on our hearts. Among this planet full of horrors, there were these two to prove to us that all was not black and dull. They made our days sunny.

For the needs of their jobs, playing the card of the very loving couple was not very difficult. We feel like they get along well, we feel this symbiosis, this chemistry that connects them. Throughout the year, they have maintained this flame that animates and unites them. This flame that warmed the hearts of us Waanjai.

We did not invent this flame. It is very real, but we have embellished it, we have glorified it and so much adored it... We have made it ardent, made it evolve into a powerful fire, full of passion. Because we are dreamers, because we are romantics. This relationship, this bond that unites them, is true, authentic, strong, but what we have done with it in our dreams and fantasies does not correspond to their reality.

It's very easy for a Waanjai to get lost in illusions, because what MewGulf give off when they are both together looks too much like this classic image of a loving and happy couple.

For me, it was the first time I have witnessed a relationship like this. I had never seen something like this before. A relationship that seems to be Love with a big L. But here it is -and they both sang it with this song; there's no qualifier to describe what connects them. There are no words to define what they are. So we poor fans relied on the first definition that could best describe what binds them together: Love. And we're not entirely wrong. They do love each other.

But it's a love that doesn't fit with what society has done with this feeling. MewGulf is beyond what the human being has defined as the standard of a relationship between two people who love each other. It has no name. We can not identify it, we just know it's powerful.

And fans feel that power. We're addicted to it. And we want more. More and more. But that's not going to happen. And we feel that too. And we're scared.

Their journey as a duo is coming to an end soon, because the end of TTSS2 is coming. Their partnership will soon have no reasons to be. We can feel that both of them want to take on new challenges on their own. They love each other very much and are very grateful to each other. They are very aware that without each other they would not be at the top of glory today. But they don't want to stagnate. They want to move, to see new horizons. And it's normal to want to get to know new colleagues, it's normal to have new projects.

We understand that. We want the same thing. We don't want them to remain forever prisoners of roles that have propelled their careers. We want them to be able to evolve and grow.

The problem is that we want all this without them ever leaving each other. We want their happiness without them ever letting go of each other's hands. As they say in my language: "on veut le beurre et l’argent du beurre." But in order for them to fly away, they have to let go of each other's hands.

In order to spread their wings properly, they have to move away from each other. That's the way it is. But if they let go, we are scared that they will not return to each other. What we are afraid of is that they fly away to a different horizon and never come back.

We're afraid because we don't want to lose our antidepressants. We don't want to lose the MewGulf flame that warms our hearts. We don't want to lose those two angels who saved us, on a mental level. In any case, I do. I am worried that they are separated, I miss them every day that they are not together, because I am afraid that my remedy for anguish will disappear. If they loosen up, it's like I lose the medicine that helps me stay sane. How can I face this world in distress if these two are no longer together?

Obviously, it's an addiction that becomes unhealthy. Like the drug addict in need of his dose, like the alcoholic in need of his bottle, I need my dose of MewGulf to survive, it seems. And that's the case for other fans like me. When you don't get your daily dose, you start to hallucinate, you see dramas where there are none, you become paranoid by misinterpreting every word and every gesture these two commit. We poison our minds with false assumptions and many so-called fans take advantage of our weakness to confuse us even more.

I am afraid because I already saw a partnership/friendship/brotherhood like this fall apart. And I don’t want to see it happen again.

I so much like them to remain friends forever, to remain inseparable, to never quarrel, to remain a harmonious and luminous couple. I don't want their relationship to fade because for me they are the only thing that is pure, true and beautiful in this gray world full of bitterness and betrayal. If they break up, it is for me one more proof that everything always ends up withering, that all relationships that seem solid always end up dissolving. And I don't want to witness that. I don't want to witness a relationship that's headed for failure.

See? That's where my addiction is leading me today.

I too often forget that MewGulf is first and foremost two human beings, with their strengths and weaknesses, their faults and their qualities. They are not perfect.

So, for 2021, I wish myself, and I wish us all, to learn to wean ourselves off MewGulf. May this dependency diminish and disappear to make way for a healthier attachment to these two artists. They both deserve our unwavering support, but they do not deserve to be the instrument of our addiction.

And what I wish for both of them is to be able to do what they love for a long time. And to be able to find happiness and peace. And, of course, I wish them to continue to cherish their relationship, not to please us, but because they want to.

They have introduced us to something beautiful and unique by sharing with us their strong bond. Let us not tarnish this precious link with our negative thoughts.

Happy new year.

#mewgulf #tharntype #mew suppasit #gulf kanawut

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tessandscottforever18 · 3 years ago

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How Camila Cabello Advocates for the Planet and People Everywhere

When you think of Camila Cabello, you likely think of the confident pop star who holds the world at her fingertips. After all, she’s a powerhouse in the global music scene, snapping up music awards for dance hits like “Havana” and “Señorita” year after year.

But focus only on her music career and you may miss out on Cabello’s personal side, the one you can glimpse not only in the cute videos she and boyfriend Shawn Mendes share on social media, but also when she uses her platform to speak out on global issues, encouraging others to take action for the good of the world.

At the beginning of 2020, for example, Cabello was gearing up for her Romance Tour — scheduled to take place in countries throughout Europe and North America in support of her second studio album, Romance. But as the COVID-19 pandemic spread around the world, Cabello canceled the tour.

"We can't start rehearsals without putting people at risk and with so much up in the air with no real and definitive end in sight, I feel this is the responsible thing to do," she wrote in an Instagram post.

Instead, Cabello participated in Global Citizen’s Together At Home Instagram Live concert series, encouraging fans to take action and help stop the spread of the coronavirus. She and Mendes performed together, connected with fans to ask how they’re doing while social distancing, and even discussed proper handwashing technique.

“This is a crazy time, and we're all going to come out of this together, we're going to pull through, and we're going to try and connect and make each other smile in the meantime,” Cabello said.

A month later, in April 2020, she and Mendes joined Global Citizen's One World: Together At Home global broadcast special to honor frontline health care workers, performing a cover of "What a Wonderful World."

When she’s not releasing new albums, starring in the new Cinderella film, or taking over the streets of LA with an impromptu musical number, Cabello is just a regular person who knows the importance of doing the right thing, even when it’s hard, to generate real change in the world.

That’s why she’s joining Global Citizen Live, a once-in-a-generation, 24-hour global event on Saturday, Sept. 25, and performing in New York City’s Central Park as part of our campaign to defend the planet and defeat poverty.

And by advocating for sustainability, as well as demanding equity for people everywhere, Cabello wants to normalize taking action for her fans, too.

How Camila Cabello Defends the Planet

The pop singer knows that climate change is a serious threat to all people — and that the most vulnerable among us are going to suffer unless we do something to curb our CO2 emissions.

That’s why she’s taken it upon herself to pay attention to how her individual choices impact the environment. She also uses her voice to uplift eco-warriors around the world who are educating the public on the climate crisis.

The fashion industry generates at least 5% of global greenhouse gas emissions, from manufacturing to disposal. But as long as consumers continue supporting fast fashion, these numbers aren’t going to go down and can have devastating consequences.

Cabello took to TikTok to share her love of sustainable practices, featuring a pair of Allbirds tennis shoes. Allbirds are crafted from eucalyptus tree fiber and Brazilian sugarcane.

"Shoutout to my new Allbirds, a sustainable shoe brand,” she captioned the video. “Not an ad, I just love sustainable clothing."

With a loyal fan base and massive platform, Cabello’s ability to spread the news about eco-friendly clothing items can influence people around the world to pay attention to their own consumer choices. But she also uses her social media clout to support the work of world-renowned climate activists.

In 2017, Cabello tweeted at followers to tune in to An Inconvenient Special, a televised town hall that featured former United States Vice President Al Gore in conversation with young people about climate change. Connecting the climate crisis to her home city of Miami — which is especially vulnerable to extreme weather events — Cabello raised awareness about the TV special to engage Global Citizens in climate action.

Outside of caring for the planet and all of its inhabitants, Cabello takes action on other issues affecting people around the world. She starts by advocating for herself, speaking up about the importance of mental health and how she’s learned to heal.

Advocating for Mental Health Awareness

Amid months-long lockdowns, social distancing regulations, and a shared grief as the world mourns over 4.5 million people lost to COVID-19, the pandemic has taken a serious toll on mental health.

Celebrities like Cabello have the opportunity to speak up about taboo subjects like mental health that don’t get enough attention due to stigma and ignorance. By sharing her own struggles with mental illness, Cabello has chosen to advocate for others and let them know that it is OK to not be OK.

“Before lockdown I was burnt out. I was living with a really high amount of anxiety. It was too much and it was not sustainable. I felt like I was running with a broken leg but I wasn’t really listening to how I felt,” she said during an interview with Page Six. “I know now I have to take care of myself. No one is going to know when I’ve reached a limit other than me, so I have to take care of myself in that way.”

The singer has also made a point to advocate for others. She teamed up with nonprofit Movement Voter Fund to launch the Healing Justice Project, an initiative that provides funds for mental health and wellness resources to support youth activists and organizations making the world a better place.

Cabello shared the work of the 10 grassroots organizations on Instagram to introduce the project earlier this year.

“These organizers work tirelessly to create a positive impact, but the work can be exhausting,” she wrote in an Instagram caption. “Over the next few months, these incredible activists are going to come on my page to share about their work and how they are prioritizing self-care and healing during these really challenging times.”

A Role Model for Girls Everywhere

Utilizing her platform for good has always been a central part of Cabello’s fame. Her hard work and social impact make her an ideal role model for young women, which is why it was an easy decision to cast her in the new Amazon film adaptation of Cinderella.

In this adaptation, the princess is looking for more than marriage; she's a talented clothing designer who wants to travel the world. Determined, hard-working, and passionate, Cabello’s Cinderella focuses less on love and more on living the life she truly desires, fighting gender stereotypes to inspire girls.

Cabello also understood the responsibility her role held, particularly as a Cuban Mexican American woman playing a traditionally white and blonde character.

“We’ve never seen that representation before,” Cabello said in an interview. “It’s just an honor.”

The singer has had to battle judgments from others concerning her looks and personal life. But she hasn't stayed silent or let the haters influence her self worth. Instead Cabello consistently stands up for herself to show women and girls that they are beautiful and worthy in their own right.

After fatphobic headlines and comments targeted Cabello’s body shape, she posted a video on TikTok to remind people that “being at war with your body is so last season.”

“I am grateful for this body that lets me do what I need to do,” she said in the video. “We are real women with curves and cellulite and stretchmarks and fat, and we gotta own that, baby!”

No matter where her career trajectory takes her — from promoting her solo albums to representing women in movies and on stage — Camila Cabello won’t forget to advocate for others on today’s most pressing global issues.

That’s why she’s taking the stage with other all-star musicians and activists in New York on Sept. 25 for Global Citizen Live.

Join Cabello in taking action to defend the planet here.

#camila cabello #global citizen live #global citizen

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crimson-dxwn · 4 years ago

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At Odds - Chapter 4

Summary: The Empire uses dirty tactics to bring Mandalore to its knees. Orla gets in a fight(s).

Warnings: Realistic medical scenarios (including a minor character death), violence, blood, c*ddling

Words: 4200

Mij Gilamar is the kind of physician every young doctor or medic looked up to - kind, brilliant, a patient teacher. He’d been a mentor to her back in medical school and so much of her success was due to his encouragement and kind words. So seeing the look of anxious terror on his face is not putting Ori at ease.

She looks down at the datapad sitting on her lap. Her stylus hovers over the question on the form. Is there any chance you could be...

He'd been sent from Sundari, to try and prepare Keldabe for the onslaught of the illness that had now overwhelmed the old capital. The man looks tired, his brown hair streaked with silver hanging limp, armor loose on his gaunt frame. The room was full of nurses, doctors, medics and therapists, mostly specialists who didn’t work in the field that often.

“It’s become clear this is an engineered agent. I expect you to keep this in the utmost confidence moving forward. We have the best bioengineers on Mandalore working on a vaccine and we need to do what we can for our patients until they develop one.”

The situation really must be dire if they were bringing the obstetricians to the party. Dr. Gilamar explains the proposed mechanism of the virus, how its symptoms mimic Candorian Plague, how the agent’s genetic sequence has been altered. With a grim expression, he continues to detail the therapies that had been attempted in Sundari without success, that the fatality rate was nearing thirty percent, how it was spreading like wildfire in the ruins of the city. The mood in the room is grim.

He goes on about containment strategies they’d tried in Sundari, how they believed the virus spread, how it killed. Who it killed.

“I understand if any of you want to opt out. We won’t think less of you, nor will we ask for reasons.”

Ori doesn’t want to opt out. She has a sense of duty to her people. But watching them die without tools to help isn’t what she has in mind. No matter the risk of transmission, which according to Mij was still out of control. What nobody was addressing in the room was who exactly had set the virus upon Mandalore, if it really was an engineered organism. Mandalorians always had enemies, but it was easy to guess the most likely culprit. Either the Empire was clumsily stupid or so incredibly bold that being stealthy didn’t matter to them. Unfortunately Orla suspects it was the latter. Mij finishes up his speech and tittering erupts throughout the room.

“Please let me know if you have any questions, otherwise you can return back to your work. I expect to hear from you soon regarding your decision.”

They all file out of the room, turning in pads as they go. Looking around her, Ori doesn’t see a single person decline to work with the pandemic patients. A ping comes from her datapad from the nurses upstairs; one of her patients is getting ready to push and she needs to be there soon. Gathering her things, she moves to head back up to the delivery ward before Gilamar stops her.

“Doctor Beviin, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, Mij. I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“Agreed.” He sighs, pursing his lips. “We’ll need you here. I know you’ve been a specialist for a long time - and I don’t want to pressure you - but we don’t have enough boots on the ground here and we haven’t even hit the peak yet.” Orla wishes she could see the bottom half of his face through the mask.

“Of course, Mij,” she tells him as her datapad pings again, “I’m so sorry, I have a patient upstairs I need to take care of.”

He nods his head, body relaxing minutely as she signs her form and hands him the datapad.

---

Three Weeks Later

Summer, Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

In Keldabe it starts as a cough, benign enough at first that people don’t stay home from work or travel. Mandalorians fight through illnesses and this is no exception, though that is the exact reason it spreads so well.

The spread of the illness concides perfectly with an Imperial garrison being erected just outside Keldabe, complete with a bland-looking Administrator to oversee it. Plus hundreds of transport ships packed with shiny new stormtroopers to man the helm.

Unfortunately the populace is too preoccupied by the sickness spreading to the city to put up much of a fight. Even Mandalorians couldn’t hope to bring down the might of a government consolidated from both the gutted Grand Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It wasn’t a secret the population wasn’t replenishing itself; many had died in the Clone Wars, as mercenaries on both sides and many battles in between. Death by a thousand cuts. Ori couldn’t decide which was a more frightening prospect, immediate and painful death from this virus or slow and strangling subjugation by the Empire.

The new Imperial administrator laments the incompetence of the Mand’alor in controlling the pandemic. The screen in the doctor’s lounge is perfectly positioned in front of her chosen couch so Ori can watch the woman drone on about the might of the Emperor, how peace and security has been restored to the galaxy... all while supplying no aid, staff or medicine to the planets that need it. Kriffing useless Empire. If only she could be a fly on the wall in the Mand’alor’s meetings.

It’s her twelfth day in a row at the med center and the exhaustion has officially permeated every cell in her body. She sinks into the worn cushions with a deep sigh. If she could just close her eyes for a minute, just to catch up on a little rest, it will take the edge off her exhaustion. The med center has physician sleep rooms, but the beds are never as comfortable as she needs and the sound of doors slamming in the halls wakes her every few hours. Overhead code pages are happening almost every hour now, with patients actively dying in the emergency ward, on the floors, in the intensive care unit. The code team is being run ragged, even with rotating staff.

She tries to get comfortable on the threadbare couch. Clearing her mind has been….difficult....the past few weeks. Despite her exhaustion, her mind races. Her last day off was almost two weeks ago, when Mij had sent her home, refusing to hear any sort of counter-argument, even though she knew he was sleeping at the hospital too. By now there is an almost endless stream of patients coming through the center.

Not to mention her cycle is late. Very late. Really, she thinks, she should know better. But denial is a powerful thing, no matter how much knowledge you have. She needs to confront the facts. Just not right now, she thinks, as her eyes close.

She has been chalking her distraction up to the sudden appearance of the planetwide plague without a cure had occupied most of her free thoughts for the past few weeks. There seems to be no real rhyme or reason to who succumbed. By now the med center itself is so full that all hands were now taking care of pandemic victims - surgeries are canceled, and whole wards are blocked off for coughing, dying patients that even bacta can’t help. Plus she had all her house calls and deliveries. Babies waited for no pandemic.

Finally, her exhaustion wins out over her rushing thoughts and she drifts off to sleep.

*BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP* *BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP*

She wakes to the anxiety-inducing page tone coming from her commlink, ripping it off the waistband of her trousers and pressing the silence button.

Kriff

And then she hears the code page overhead.

KRIFF.

She’s up from the couch in a second and jogging through the med center, stiff achy limbs protesting every movement, though her exhaustion is temporarily forgotten.

Room 1379 is Maari. She is older, but not elderly. The past few days, Orla had been cautiously hopeful that she was on the mend. She’d stopped coughing up blood and even taken a few turns around the ward with the nurses.

She and Maari had talked the day before about how excited she was to go back home.

Ori reaches the room to find nurses and techs already working to resuscitate her. The woman is flat on the bed, back arching as she tries to drag a breath in through ravaged lungs. They’re scarred down and filling with blood - it’s what happens sometimes when patients relapse. Her team has seen it countless times by now.

Maari thrashes back and forth, desperate for air. The oxygen mask over her nose and mouth is coated with red, and her eyes roll around frantically. The rush of people is deceptive. To an outsider, this looks like chaos. In truth, it’s a well oiled machine. Each member has their role, and in the last few weeks they were all experts. Everyone in the room knows how this is going to go, but they try anyway. Even bacta nebulized through the mask can’t heal such damaged tissue. Mij turns up in the middle of the code with purple smudges under his eyes, looking even more ashen than usual.

There’s not much they can do at this point. She has no pulse, no electrical activity keeping her heart beating in art sort of organized rhythm. The medic compressing her chest drips beads of sweat onto the plasteel bed frame as Ori orders another push of medication with no response. Her team has been doing resuscitation for over an hour without a response and the looks on their faces tell her it’s time to stop.

Orla calls out time of death and the team debriefs. Maari is covered with a sheet and paperwork is started. Her family hasn’t been allowed to visit, and Ori prepares herself to make the call to her daughter. Propping herself against the wall outside the room to take a breath, she sees the transparisteel doors that lead to the outside, where two stormtroopers are laughing and jostling each other at their post.

Stormtroopers ‘guard’ every business and government building now. The Empire taxes Mandalore’s imports and exports and blockades their space. Weeks of begging hadn’t convinced them to send aid.

Something snaps in her when the aides wheel the body out of the room. Her exhaustion and frustration mixes into something ugly, curling in her belly and filling her with searing rage. If the Empire has decided to wipe her people out, she isn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Hey!” she yells at the men by the door. The troopers straighten and tighten their grip on their blasters. The other staff around her must think she’s officially lost her wits. She must look horrifying because both white-armored men take a hesitant step back.

“What the kriff are you laughing at? People are dying and you think this is funny?” She’s screaming now, her throat is straining with it. The two troopers aren’t shocked anymore. Now they’re angry, defensive, she can tell by their body language. She desperately wants to knock some sense into them, wants them to see her people’s suffering. But she’s still in her scrubs, and they’re in armor.

The trooper to her right grasps her upper arm. Ori is still so angry she barely feels the grip bite into the flesh.

“You think you’re so fucking tough guarding a hospital full of sick people?” she snarls. Her twisted expression reflects back at her in the trooper’s visor.

“Stand down, citizen.”

The trooper on her right aims his blaster. The movement rips her out of her focus and she realizes that multiple people are watching on the ward. Mij has a hand behind his back, presumably on the blaster she knows he keeps hidden beneath his uniform. The stormtrooper’s helmet is still inches from her face and cool durasteel digs into her ribs.

“I said stand. down.” His blaster shoves further into her side, pushing her back into his companion with his hand crushing her arm. How had she lost control like this. How kriffing stupid was she? Her breathing comes hard and harsh, and her stomach roils unexpectedly.

The seconds go by slowly as she lifts her hands up in surrender. Saliva pools in her mouth and she swallows it back down, which she finds out is a giant mistake as everything she’s eaten today - a grand total of four crackers and some water - splatters onto the trooper’s feet. He jumps back, blaster forgotten.

“What the-“

The other trooper shoves her aside, disgusted, and she takes the opportunity to scurry through the med center doors, wiping her mouth on a sleeve. Somehow Mij Gilamar looks even more concerned then he did when a blaster was in her ribs. His brows knot together as she walks towards him, needing to brush of what just happened and get back to work.

She’s almost to Mij as the room spins sideways and her vision goes black.

------

Kal watches Ori sleep. Somehow she looks so much smaller than the last time he’d seen her like this. Though the last time he’d seen her like this, she’d been naked in his bed where he could run his hands over her bare skin. Where she could make him forget every horrible thing he’s seen and done from Kuat to Kyrimorut.

Her chest rises and falls slowly and he finds himself watching it to calm himself. She’d made quite the scene in front of two stormtroopers and Kal was sure they were going to haul her away to god knows where in retribution. Fortunately the one had been too preoccupied cleaning vomit off his plastoid to care.

The situation in the hospital in Keldabe was as close to any war zone that he’d ever been in and it was no wonder she’d worked herself to the bone. She was mandokarla.

He’d been at the med center to talk strategy with Mij, who wasn’t able to leave the wards. Only he, Mij and his sons knew about the vaccine the Empire was keeping in secret. About the plans to cow the Mandalorians into giving them what they wanted. He hadn’t been trained to fight fair, it wasn’t their way. But this, this pandemic, was a whole new brand of dirty fighting. He’d spent a few hours in the medcenter so far and seen the absolute carnage.

He has an enduring sort of affection for her that he can’t seem to shake. Mij tasked him with looking after her and he wasn’t about to tear himself away.

------

“You’re working yourself too hard, doc.”

Her vision swims in and out, but there’s Kal, clear as day, sitting in a chair next to her bed and tapping at his commlink. Ori starts, not fully sure of where she is.

“You’re still in the hospital,” he says gruffly, leaning towards her, “Tried to get you a bed but they’re all full. Wouldn’t let me take you back to Kyrimorut with me. So here we are.”

She gains her bearings while he talks. Here is one of the unoccupied physician call rooms.

“Not working too hard,” she rebuffs.

“Mij tells me you’ve been overdoing it.” Ori rolls her eyes at him. They’re falling into their usual routine. “You puked on a stormtrooper.”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, demanding an explanation like she owes him one. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have one that she wants to offer to him.

Next to her bed is the worn datapad that she charts on and she picks it up to check her chart. Ori feels herself blanch with him in front of her as she reads her diagnosis. Mij must have had them draw blood after she passed out, and it’s a little unnerving that she doesn’t remember it, though when she looks at her right arm she can see the red mark where the needle had been. In her other arm is an IV line.

“Mij put me in charge of you until he gets back.” Kal looks incredibly pleased with himself, like they were playing a game and he had just won. He leans back in the wooden chair in the corner which creaks in protest. As usual, he wears his golden armor, which shines dully in the low light of the call room. Ori can’t remember a time when she’s seen him out of it, except when they’ve been in bed together. The blood rushes back into her face at that thought.

“So what did they do?”

The memory reasserts itself painfully. Ori doesn’t even know how much time has passed since Maari died. Behind her eyes she sees it all again.

At least she knows where she is. At least she didn’t wake up alone.

“I had a patient die...and I saw them out there laughing. I don’t know...I just lost it.”

It isn’t a good reason, she knows that. She wonders if Kal can even make sense of her babbling, she wonders if the troopers will report her, if she’ll even have a job to return to tomorrow. Some of her hopes she doesn’t, just to get a bit of relief from the exhaustion. Part of her hopes she’s infected, is jealous of the people lying in their sickbeds being taken care of instead of run into the ground.

But she’s not infected, she’s not even sick.

“Who died?”

“Maari Rook”

He nods, keeping eye contact. Men like him don’t flinch away from death; she wonders how many have died at the point of his knife or blaster. It’s surprising how composed she is, barely a few hours after the fact. Kal must think she’s losing her wits. She’s sure he doesn’t miss the way her voice wobbles and she sniffs.

“What can I do to make it better?”

It’s hard for her to get the request out and she feels weak for even asking. After all, they don’t know each other that well and she had no right asking.

“Can you just…” she says softly, still a little embarrassed from her outburst earlier, “lie down with me?”

He freezes, obviously not expecting this type of request. The ice in his blue eyes softens and a smile tugs at a corner of his lips. He looks almost boyish - she wasn’t expecting him to look so pleased. The armor comes off, chest piece first, then arms and gauntlets, thigh pieces next...and she must have dozed off because her face is pressed up against a warm chest and his arm is wrapped around her, the other stretching over his head to snake under the pillow.

“Mij is giving you a few days off,” he murmurs, warm breath tickling her ear. She hums in reply, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize the hint of cedar she can smell from the mountains around Kyrimorut that has percolated into his clothes. His body heat seeps into her bones as she snuggles closer; her hands twine in the fabric of his tunic. A large hand strokes through her tangled hair. Right now she wants to forget about the world outside and just sink into the warmth and safety surrounding her.

“One of my boys thinks the Imperials has a vaccine here on-planet,” he continues as his chin rests atop her head, “this’ll be over soon. Just be patient.”

But she can’t be patient.

Kal leaves her an hour or so later, assuming she’s fast asleep. Ori keeps her breathing deep and slow until she’s sure he’s gone. All she can think about is the possibility of a vaccine. Certainly, she’s had the thought before, since they weren’t seeing any troopers come down with the illness. The audacity of keeping vaccine on-world wasn’t something she’d considered the Empire bold enough to do.

The guards in front of the gleaming new garrison let her through without a fight. She tells the front desk her name and her complaint. Ori hopes they’ll let her talk to someone with any sort of importance or rank, if she can make somehow them see reason.

The bored-looking secretary beside the durasteel door looks her up and down, obviously unimipressed by her simple work uniform and disheveled hair. Strands are falling out of her bun and tickling her neck and she reaches her hands up to nervously smooth them back. She can’t remember the last day she washed it.

The secretary buzzes them into the room with nary a word and Ori follows the troopers’ lead into the office. The two stormtroopers who had escorted her into the office are silent by her side when the officer finally enters the room. The shining surface of the pure white plastoid keeps them separate, impersonal.

Behind a severe durasteel desk sits a man in a grey officer’s uniform. She wonders if it looks much different from the Republic officer uniforms - Mandalore had been removed enough from the conflict of the Clone Wars that she’d never even seen a Republic officer. Before the events of the last few months, there was hardly anything that made two regimes distinct. He’s certainly not a clone. From the few officers she’s noticed around Keldabe, this Empire seems to favor humans more than any other species, and at least from the groups of troopers she’s seen occupying Keldabe most are men. He rises, extending a hand for her to shake.

“Dr. Beviin,” he says smoothly, “it’s a pleasure.” The polished Core accent fits his persona, with his slick shiny hair and boots to match. His face is clean-shaven, with the plump look of a young man, unscarred. This was some politician’s favored son, no doubt, tasked with bringing Mandalore to its knees. Anger threatens to rise again, but she tempers it before it can best her again. She has a goal here.

“Likewise,” she replies. He gestures to the seat in front of his desk and she takes it. Her stormtrooper escort settles at the back of the room.

“I’m Corporal Hadley. How can I help you?”

“Corporal, as you know there’s a virus tearing its way across the planet.”

“Ah yes, I’m aware.”

“If you’re going to occupy a planet, you have a duty to its citizens.” She keeps her voice and manner neutral, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, though her anger and frustration are slowly rising. She hasn’t slept, and it always makes her testier than usual.

“The Empire takes care of its own first. Once your people prove their loyalty, then we will provide a vaccine. I don’t understand why you think your people will get anything for free.”

She decides to pull out the trump card.

“I know you have it here. I demand you distribute it as soon as possible.”

“Or what, Doctor Beviin?”

She is silent at this, for she has no reply. There’s nothing she can threaten them with except knowledge and they know it. It dawns on her then how stupid she is, how she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Not even Kal.

“The Mand’alor will -”

“The Mand’alor won’t do anything. There’s nothing he’s willing to barter with that the Empire needs that badly.”

The unnamed officer jerks his head at one of the troopers, so quickly she almost misses it, until she hears the crack of a rifle butt against her own face and pain lances through her cheekbone. The strength and shock of the blow is enough that she falls to her knees, watching her own blood patter onto the duracrete floor. Her cheekbone is broken, she’s almost sure of it as she reaches a shaky hand up to her face and feels it crushed inwards. Her fingers come away covered in blood.

“You hutuune,” Ori hisses, “Cowards.”

“Shut up,” one of the troopers mutters, pushing her to the floor for good measure, grabbing her comm out of her pocket and crushes it under his foot. The other pipes up as the officer watches.

“You know they say you’re supposed to rub their nose in it.”

A boot presses between her shoulder blades and grinds her harder into the floor, forcing the air out of her lungs, duracrete scratching painfully against her broken cheekbone. Tears spring to her eyes and she can’t hold them in, ashamed at how stupid she’d been to believe she could negotiate with Imperials. Desperation had blinded her.

“I thought Mandos were supposed to fight back? That’s what the briefing said.”

Ori doesn’t dignify his comment with a response. Not everyone fights with fists. It was something she had struggled with her whole life, though now was a rare exception where she wished she could take on three men and win.

The boot nudges at her again and she tries to flatten herself against the ground instead of instinctively curling inwards or using her hands to give away what she is desperately trying to protect. She prays they don’t take the beating further.

“Doctor Beviin, you’re under arrest for treason and assault of an Imperial officer,” says the grey-suited captain, with a tone so bored that he could have been ordering tea instead of standing over a woman his soldiers had just brutalized.

Bruising fingers attach themselves to her upper arms and haul her to her feet. The troopers march her out of the room as she tries to keep up, blood still trickling down her face and onto the collar of her work uniform. She can’t reach up and wipe it off.

Taglist:

@leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @cherry-cokes-world @clonewarslover55 @passionofthesith @808tsuika @wolfangelwings @the-arctic-violet

#Kal Skirata x OC #Kal Skirata Hate Sex #Republic Commando #Once again I hate this chapter and wish I could get it longer but alas #here you are #my writing

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cupsofsuga · 4 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐒 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers. I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ 💐} REQUEST - ❝ how do the boys act with their s/o during the pandemic? ❞

{ ☕️} NOTE - i am not in any way trying to romanticize or glorify this pandemic. this is strictly for entertainment purposes. right below, i provided a link that lists ways you can help with covid-19::

https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2020/03/21/how-you-can-help-during-coronavirus/?arc404=true

please stay home and stay safe!

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

through the fog of yearning for summer, jin has found you, the child of aphrodite in autumn’s oath

oh, the tender sound of flesh… it’s like thunder under earth’s surface

to love y/n is to love the nymphs that dream amongst the fragrance of weeping willows

to love y/n is to long for their sole attention, and much to jin’s benefit, this global pandemic may have given him the opportunity to hog all the stardust held within the deity of his lover

with classes canceled, you both can spend eternity gathering tulips and wildflowers in the safety of your home

jin can taste laughter against his lips and the august rain of your divine infatuation

he can inhale the sun in your hair and the midsummer fruits on your skin

finally, for what seems like infinity in quarantine, he can breathe

now, to keep this daydream within the forest at constant, he’ll rob any potential excuse of yours that involves not having your attention on him

of course, he would forbid you from seeing anyone outside the solace of your own residence

the faint idea of those heathens laying their ruthless hands upon your heavenly form and possibly imperiling you with this virus infuriates him to no end

even during the hours spent on online classes, jin will smother with resentment over the revelation that he’d be required to spend several hours without your love

boredom and envy, two poisons racing like serpents through the maze of his veins

and he can’t seem to sedate this burning jealousy, that is until the session ends and the grandfather clock sings it’s euphoric harmony

oh, and when your attention is finally on him

petals splatter, lambs sing, the sun kisses the moon and the fruit of the earth flourishes

heaven is on earth, and besides, you never needed those classes, anyways

with perfect grades, perfect class, perfect reputation, jin could give you whatever your heart could desire

and he’ll love you until the sun vanishes and the earth is reborn; until all stars fragment and our galaxy dissolves into dust

jin loves you and the blossom of july that follows

he loves you to death.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

oh, how yoongi loves you...

to digest his own organs, to tend to the wounds of his garden

he’d trade in his life for the fleeting chance of bathing in your moonlight

like the crumpled-up paper left on your table with the number of a pretty waitress scribbled on, the scrape of peach fuzz against naked skin under ocherous streetlights

you, y/n l/n, a stranger in the alps holds the dawn-tinted fragments of this young boy’s soul

the resonance of your honeymoon-flavored voice, the liberation of the ocean’s pearls as they sleep in your touch, your superlunary reassurance as you soothe him of his concerns for the world’s condition

yoongi cannot comprehend how sour solitude blossomed into a sultry summer by the acceleration of a global pandemic

he owns the privilege to spend infinite days in quarantine, butterflies and white lace upon his heart as he wakes up to the sight of your face, yet again

he watches as stars and planets melt together as your galaxies collide, relishing in the feverish sensation of eternal divinity

and during this pandemic, yoongi’s tendencies flourish as his dependence, neediness and loyal compliance intensify

he’ll go out of his way and purchase all of the necessities you could ever crave, the revelation of his health at stake left unbothered

it is challenging to find entertainment throughout quarantine, but fortunately for you, your hero (missing his cape) uses his rent money to find you whatever it is you've deemed vital

you’ll go and welcome your lover after he returned to your residence from getting groceries and discover a variety of board games to play, a nintendo switch (with animal crossing, obviously), and an espresso machine that he bought with intentions on teaching you how to make drinks like he does (even though there will never be a day where he won't brew one for you)

despite fear painting every street in the world, yoongi touches aphrodite’s reminiscence as he skates beyond a rainbow’s arch

he has found sunlit honey in the mornings where he can cling onto your form like a lifeline and smother you with his coffee-stained kisses and overwhelming fascination

finally, days are heavenly with you by his side every. waking. second

the bullets have faded, the storms have abolished, the tears have shattered and all that’s left is your french perfume and cherry lips

oh, you should expect suffocating love during this quarantine season because you’ll never escape from yoongi

not now, not ever.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

due to covid outbreak, hoseok feels his body tremble with fear beneath his covers as if the virus was a monster underneath his bed

behind the exquisite light of his sanity is winter, where terror sits like snow against naked trees

only then, you waltz into his tunnel of vision, your silver armor glistening under the amber light of his bedroom

finally, with you by his side, he can savor the taste of the sun as it peaks through the leaves of summer

y/n, the sweetest apparition, the aurora of jasmine, stardust in a mason jar

you are the bones of ecstasy and hoseok feels the horror racing through his veins melt into a daze of tulips and passion

and it took him days to recover from the lemon-flavored euphoria that dreams of you in a hallucinatory lucidity

but, even then, the heart of his infatuation still holds cunning ways of creeping up behind him

despite being locked inside, hoseok still relies on you to protect him

you’re his knight in shining armor, his life preserver in an empty sea

he needs you to wrap your wings around his form and shield him from the demons that lurk in the shadows of your home

god, does he need you

but, when the sun is high and both of you are trapped in the walls of your home, his soul ascends as if he had listened to his favorite part of a song for the very first time

your lover then insists on creating a fort, the light of purity heavy in his opalescent irises

that childlike innocence within him, you always adored it

you’ll both make a mess of your living room with couch cushions and chairs, certainly to receive a scolding from your parents

there are fairy lights strung upon quilts with its heavenly glow and tender pillows that are painted with last years midsummer night-dew

and with scarlet ribbons and a huff of contentment, your masterpiece is complete

now, you will lie in the fort that is shielded with a password, lover in your lap as he runs upon his little rants

a disney movie you can’t recall the name of is left abandoned to play on its own as hoseok works you through the timeline of the pixar theory, hope, and exuberance within his expression

he always admired conspiracy theories, but not the ones that are too frightening

you, aphrodite’s rose and summer’s sweet fruits, are there for hoseok to love and to embrace

and he’d swim all the oceans and waltz through the depths hellfire to prove to you just how enamored he truly is

that is until he longs for his childhood stuffed animal that he makes you go into the attic to get because he’s too afraid of the dark.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

namjoon will love you until the end of eternity

he’ll love you until the moon swims the seven seas, he’ll love you until fate eradicates into liberty, he’ll love you until white jasmines accelerate into poppies

he’ll love you until our solar system melts into prismatic ash

and this epiphany flourishes as the night sings with you nestled against his chest, your lover refusing to let you go even when the sun is high in the sky

with locks of hair rested upon the crevice of his neck and latin poetry he’s too tired to translate parting his lips, he has found ecstasy in the purple rain that enveloped him

he has found the hidden nymphs of his life nestled under leaves; he has found his light in a sea of dead stars

and namjoon can’t imagine a day where he wouldn’t bleed himself dry to protect the one thing that matters most to him

due to the spread of this virus, let’s just say that his paranoia has gotten the best of him

you’ve never seen so much fear within his eyes from just a simple cough

you’ll be forced to stay within the lavish bedroom of his as all possible necessities are delivered to your door

and any excuse for you to leave, he has another to dismiss it

you’re hungry? great, a full-course gourmet meal made by our personal chefs is on its way!

you’re thirsty? would you like water? tea? wine? we’ll have the housekeeper deliver it in a jiffy!

you’re bored? we have board games, puzzles, movies, video games, whatever your little heart desires!

you feel trapped? ok, fine… well, i guess we can go take a walk in the garden

and you felt such a rush of elation to take sight upon the lustrous tulips possessing a variety of colors and to inhale the fragrance of summer as it stains your consciousness

oh, to feel sunbeams heavy against your longing skin and to trace your fingers down the juts and crevices of your favorite flowers

this is euphoria tied with a silk bow

that is until you were aggressively yanked behind namjoon as he saw the gardener wasn’t 6 feet away from you

he spat out threats to the poor man just trying to water the poppies you infatuated yourself with

but hey, at least you got a taste of the sun though, right?

oh, well, the tiffany and louis in your expensive bedroom will suffice, anyways.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

so… this is love

to caress the sugar-scented tulips on the riverside, to taste summer as worries melt like honey against your tongue

to lose yourself in the lustrous daze as camellia flowers fall like pink rain

so… this is love

and god, jimin has never felt so alive

like a dove at dawn, iridescent feathers, and misty eyes

you descended into his field of vision and robbed him of his heart right then and there

and now, as the sun glistens and the moon shimmers, day-by-day, he holds the privilege of calling himself yours

especially being locked within the walls of your home, infatuation seethes like dust in the attic above

it’s far too dangerous for you to leave, anyway

with disease, sorrow, and pain staining the air of the world, it’s only best is you stay indoors… only by his side, for every waking second

and you swear, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve awoken to the sight of your lover with his chin rested against his palm, hearts swimming in his eyes as he chirps, “good morning, bumblebee!”

but, you have to realize, he just can’t help it

there’s moondust in your lungs, sunbeams bathing within your veins, the rings of saturn enveloping your locks of hair, stars nestled beneath the crevice of your heart

there’s a universe inside of you, and luckily for jimin, it is all his

only his

as the morning is set into motion, your boyfriend has a variety of activities for you to indulge yourself with

days are spent reading you through all several journals he reserved just for you, pages filled with cheesy poems, songs, or your name written obsessively over and over and over and over again

he’ll giggle like a young schoolgirl at your reactions, drown you in butterfly kisses or gaze at you for hours as you read, oblivious to his creepy admiring stare

and god forbid you drink water and it goes down the wrong tube

you’ll cough once and he’ll begin to pamper you as if you were a sick orphan child

that’s who he is, though

dedicating his entire life to the sun itself; dedicating his existence to the child of aphrodite in full bloom

god… he has found love

and nothing is more euphoric than this

and you had absolutely no idea a worldwide pandemic could make this man the happiest boy on planet earth.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

you can’t recall how long it’s been since you were abducted

days have melted into candy, hours turn to honey, seconds are everlasting grace

you’ve been treated like royalty ever since pages of your face with a loud ‘MISSING’ on top had been scattered across town

your kidnapper lover will bake you cherry pies, boxy smile threaded on his face. he’ll draw a bath adorned with rose petals raw from the garden, eyes flickering with hopes and exuberance

taehyung will give you just about every pleasure a human could ask for, all in the name of seeing that candied smile that sedates his mind and turns his knees to jelly

he wouldn’t be shocked if he looked down and saw a puddle of his drool, to be honest

and because of the uproar of the virus, taehyung finds in his best power to simply not tell you

to protect you from your worries, to shield you from this world

he would rather die than risk losing his glimmering evening to the arms of the earth

this revelation strikes coldly as you sit beneath a willow tree, sugary pastries and treats varied around you as your lover sits with his canvas

to blend the opalescent tones of your face, then the loud devotion of your skin and the feverishly irradiated hues of your iris

oh, to sit here and paint his dear… it’s pure bliss!

days spent deprived of the burden of technology, heaven has reached the recesses of this horrid planet

after lunch beneath the sun, you and taehyung will take canoe rides throughout the lake just outside your little cottage on the hillside

and watching as you graze your fingertips upon the lake’s surface like you’re made of something magic and blessing the water with your enigmatic essence was practically holy to see

he’s been puzzled stupid in times like these

where the sun is high and heavy, golden embers kiss upon the land, his lover sat with a goddesses caress

it’s euphoric how you breathe and strip taehyung of every logical thought within his mind

yes, you are captive, but there is simply no denying this man's devotion to you

you shall not worry about the worldwide pandemic and should rather fall into a deep slumber within the faded-red canoe

when it’s only the two of you, a virus is but a speck of dust left upon the highest shelf

no matter what this world comes to, you are safe with taehyung

and nothing will take you away from him.

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

jungkook thinks of you more often than he should

those fleeting moments where your dulcet laugher reflects and his eyes are practically glued to you; those moments where your “i love you”’s are unadulterated and his entire chest collapses

he’d do anything and everything to keep his light forever home

fortunately for him, this global pandemic may have gifted him that opportunity laced with a velvet bow

but this boy is paranoid, you see. so paranoid that the intensity of his concern comes out in an opalescent pandemonium

it’s as if saltwater swells in his lungs and kisses him with it’s strangling embrace; as if his worst sins have been placed on a silver platter, left for the world to laugh and gape at

but, through the haze of his purgatory, there’s you, joyous and alive

and it’s like a potion mixed with rosewater, vanilla and a dove’s feathers heavy on his tongue whenever he drinks in the sight of you

it’s like the essence of his infatuation dancing like a ballerina beyond the recesses of his mind; his sanity it’s ballroom

to spend days in quarantine bathing within his bewitchment is euphoric, but there are the days of terror that creep upon him

and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the time where you had complained to your lover about your headache and observed as the planets swimming in his irises abruptly fade to utter horror

he always over-exaggerated his worry, which you were used to, but this

you’ve never seen true fear like this

you were given a cold towel to place upon your forehead and kisses to soothe you of your distress

the worry he possessed only snowballed into something much more cynical and evil, though, as the prophecy of the virus taking you away from him shook him to his very core

you eventually fell into a deep slumber by dusk, most likely by the fault of the medicine

though, as the moon was high and the bedside clock read 2:38 AM in it’s fluorescent, neon green hues, you were awoken by the hushed sounds of weeping

blinking your mind back into reality, you found jungkook on the bedside, shoulders shaking violently from the sobs that shook his entire body

you watched as he incoherently wailed into the phone, only to finally decipher the person on the other line was a 911 operator

you then handled the situation safely and maturely, reassuring the poor operator that you were perfectly healthy and safe and thus proceeding to care for your puppy-dog of a boyfriend who worried over every breathe you took for the following several weeks

oh, what a time this quarantine will be

but, hey! you weren’t sick! so…yay!

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Weird, “M-Flu.”

Here is a little fluff for you all bc today I am also posting another chapter.

Sorry about the wait but I decided to take a bit of a hiatus over Thanksgiving, but now I am back :)

It was early December, or so the humans said. Krill had never really understood the human’s need to split up time like that. The Vrul did, of course, keep track of their planet’s revolution around their star but that was simply numerically based rather than starting the count over every month like the humans did.

It had been a bit busier than usual which was rather odd. You would think, on a spaceship, that illnesses would be relatively common due to the closed in area with a bunch of people side by side, and that it would not be affected by the time of year like it was on earth. However, he supposed that allowing the humans leave planetside so close to their sickest season was probably the reason.

Still blew his mind to consider that humans had a time of year where epidemics and pandemics were more common. So common, in fact, that the humans just accepted getting sick as a fact of life, and often continued to go to work and be around other people during that time. Of course, this behavior used to be worse, but even with the widespread use of surgical masks during sickness, things still continued to spread.

He found himself, pleased, once again that he was incapable of catching human illnesses, though he did his best to stay away from plant life on other planets seeing as you never knew what he could catch from other species of plant, to which he was more similar than he was to animals like the humans or the Drev.

He reached upwards and plucked a clipboard from one of the nurses before turning towards the door and scuttling out.. He needed to go speak with the commander about the increased rate of infectivity aboard the ship. He was under the impression it would be best to begin a quarantine on some of the more sick patients. Yes it was true that the average human would not be taken out by the flu, but by his calculations it greatly decreased productivity.

Better to keep humans healthy and lose a few people than it was to allow everyone to only work at half capacity.

He greeted members of the crew as he floated the stairs and onto the bridge stepping through the door and approaching the captain’s chair… a chair which was empty…. That was strange? This was around the time the commander went over ship diagnostics. He did this every morning and despite being a very impulsive man who wasn’t prone to keeping schedule, this was a part of his day he didn’t tend to change.

Krill spun in a wide circle looking around trying to find the man as if he expected to see him hanging from the ceiling, though, now that he thought about it. He totally expected to see something like that.

There was a clatter on the stairs behind him, and he turned to find Sunny stepping into the room.

She looked around in equal confusion to him.

“Good morning.” She said in the traditional human greeting, “Have you seen Adam?”

Krill shook his head, another human gesture, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He held up the clipboard he was holding , “I came to speak to him about medical protocol aboard the ship.

Sunny hummed, “Well, I came to him about, this.” SHe turned and pointed downwards just in time for Krill to see three of the spiderlings clambering their way up the steps mewling and growling angrily on their way after Sunny. Krill inflated his helium sack and hovered out of reach of the spiderlings, who honestly scared the hell out of him, especially Glados.

Sunny stuck out a foot trying to hold the aforementioned monster at bay, but all three of them continued to squeal and chirp.

“That’s strange.” Krill began, they never left Adam’s side if they could help it, and Glados didn’t particularly like sunny all that much, so none of this made particular sense. Hal, the smallest of the spiderlings chirped the little vocal folds at the back of it’s throat oscillating and vibrating. It was an ALMOST human sound but as if heard from a distorted speaker.

It was actually kind of freaky.

“Where is Conn, maybe he’d know what’s going on.”

“Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.” The electronic voice responded from behind them. From the other end of the room, Conn floated forward, his solar ribbons billowing out behind him in long undulating tendrils. Lights on the signing gloves lit up as he made the human language gestures which were then converted into words by way of a speaker, “They are very unhappy…. Worried even.”

Sunny shifted nervously, “What do you mean.”

“I’m not entirely sure. Their language is very rudimentary you see. Their language centers are not completely developed enough for me to read their minds. I can only sense feelings only to a certain degree.” He paused, “It is a smell, a bad smell a dangerous smell.” He tilted his head to the side.

Sunny glanced towards Krill, “Gas leak?”

Conn shook his head, “No….. it seems….. Biological if that makes any sense to you, not that I entirely understand what that means.”

“Latrine backup.” Sunny commented wryly unable to help herself.

Krill glared at her, “very helpful of you, Sunny. Glad to see you humor has evolved to be so refined.”

“Glad to see you even knew that was intended as a joke.”

The Spiderlings squealed again just as the sound of shuffling footsteps, and something dragging across the ground reached their ears.

Thud, thud, thud onto the metal catwalk.

Together, the two of them turned just in time to see the commander haul himself onto the bridge. Or at least, it looked like something that should have been the commander. His face was flushed bright red especially around the cheeks and neck. His eyes were red and puffy with dark circles under them. His hair was matted with sweat. He was wrapped in a large blanket like a cape which dragged on the ground behind him.

He hadn’t changed from his sweatpants.

And he was shivering violently despite both a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, and the blanket.

He looked like a zombie.

Krill and Sunny watched as he oozed past like some sort of zombie hybrid slug and slumped into the captain’s chair. His sniffled a bit before erupting into a violent coughing fit. The sound was wet and rattling, a clear sign of chest congestion.

Waffles, the dog, followed at his feet with clear concern in her large brown eyes.

The human snuffled again.

He turned to look at them from the depths of his hoodie and blanket cloak, “I think I’m dying.” he said sounding rather resigned to that fact.

Sunny looked nervous and went to step forward, but Kril held her off, “Wait there, and keep the spiderlings away.” he moved forward floating to the human’s head height. Even without his thermal vision he could feel the heat radiating from the human’s body, but still he switched receptors for a proper look.

One hundred and four degrees by the human’s reckoning.

“Sick for sure commander. Sunny head down to the medical bay and order that quarantine protocol. I was going to ask the commander about it, but he hardly seems capable of giving orders at the moment. Have his second take over and then get someone to babysit the spiderlings. Take them to Ramirez and Maverick, they get along well enough.

“Quarantine.” The commander muttered.

“Yes commander, we have alien lifeforms aboard the ship, and no way to know how the illness will affect them. Furthermore we want to make sure no one else catches it.”

“I think I am dying.” The man repeated absently groaning quietly as his shivering grew worse.

“Don’t say that commander, you’re making me nervous. Save the announcements of death till after our tests.”

“Such a Diva.” Sunny commented trying to be funny though she sounded more concerned.

“Go on.” Krill ordered, and she did as told, scooping up the mewling spiderlings and walking from the room. Krill got the commander back to his feet and heard the sniffling coughing humans down the hallway. He was hunched over like some sort of invalid and moved more slowly than Krill, who was arguably the slowest being on the ship.

“Come on, Commander.”

“I don’t think I can make it.” The human sniffled piteously.

“Well you better because no one is going to carry you, now come on.” contrary to the human’s earlier statement, they made it to the medical bay in one peace. By Krill’s orders the rest of the medical team was ready with the protocol all wearing masks, gloves and surgical glasses. Perhaps they saw the entire thing as overkill, but he didn’t want anyone else getting sick.

They sat the human down on one of the medical beds, and Krill proceeded to learn that their Commander was quite pathetic when he was sick. This coming from a human who would run into dangerous situations skipping and singing show tunes now whimpered complaints and begged for medicine.

Halfway through their examination, another human came walking onto the bridge.

Narobi from down in engineering. She stood straight and tall but Krill immediately noticed her elevated body temperature. Her dark skin made the ravaging heat less obvious, but her reddened eyes and the beads of sweat collecting on her forehead was enough. Though comparatively he wouldn't have been able to tell something was wrong otherwise. She was dressed in her engineering jumpsuit, and was rather well put together.

Krill glanced between her and the commander who lay mewling on the bed like an overly vocal puddle.

She smiled wryly, “I see I am not the only one then?” her voice was scratchy and somewhat congested. She was forced to clear her throat at least once the deep rattling in her chest also present.

“Krill walked over to her.”

“Symptoms.”

She took a polite seat on the edge of one of the beds, “Fever, chills, aches, cough, nausea, dizziness..”

Krill glanced over at the commander again, who had his single eye trained on them and had suddenly stopped complaining.

He smiled inwardly,. Narobi was looking at him too with a raised eyebrow, “Good morning commander.”

He sat up slowly stifling a cough, “Good morning, Narobi.” he tried to stifle a shiver.

A wry smile, “Don’t let me interrupt commander. It was a stirring performance, I am close to tears.” Krill wasn’t exactly the best with detecting sarcasm made worse by the fact that her face did not change once while she said that sentence, so he couldn't be entirely sure if she was being facetious or not.

He began to cough again, “I Wasn't acting.” he grumbled defensively looking at her with a serious expression. That didn’t last long however as he was overcome with a violent bout of shivering and a cough eventually leaning back eyes watering form violent outburst one hand on his chest, “Never mind, this is bullshit. Go on just sit there and be a badass, I'll just be over here dying and looking pathetic.”

“Man flu?” She wondered wryly

“You know what,-” Cough, “I will have you know that that is totally a real thing, and I will not be shamed for it.”

Krill turned from his work, “Actually, according to our tests. Both of you have the flu. The same strain probably got it at the same time. We will have to monitor the rest of the crew to make sure it does not spread further than the two of you before determining how dangerous it will be to other species especially the Drev. IN the interest of keeping the rest of the crew healthy for the time being, both of you will be isolated and monitored here.”

“Don’t you think that is going a bit overboard?” Narobi wondered

The commander moaned.

“Actually, I think you humans don’t take illness seriously enough. Just because something is normal, doesn’t mean it's acceptable, and letting people suffer by themselves or allowing them to contaminate other people isn’t acceptable in my hospital.”

There was no arguing with the little doctor as he ordered the humans moved into the clear plastic contamination chamber and ordered to change. Both now wearing light blue scrubs they were ordered into bed, which of course the commander whined that he was still cold and had to be brought a stack of blankets with the great inner eye rolling of Krill, who, had learned from dr Katie, that they were not likely to die from such an illness, so he didn’t have to be THAT worried. Though he was still a little worried, and quickly moved to disguise his concern with a businesslike manner.

When Sunny came to visit that night she was distrubed by what she saw. She had never actually seen a sick human before, which was a wonder considering how long she had been on the ship. The powerful creatures she had come to know as indomitable were curled up in the darkness in isolation. Both of them were shivering between painful coughing fits. Their skin was pale and both were drenched in sweat.

The commander had, over the course of the last few hours slid down from the bed with all the pillows and blankets he had acquired and made some sort of delirious makeshift nest for himself on the floor the pillows being the base and the blankets wrapped around him like a human filled burrito only his mouth and nose being entirely visible. The other human was curled up on her side head resting on one arm.

She sighed quietly.

At her feet the dog whimpered as she looked through the clear plastic drape.

Sunny looked towards Krill with worry, “Are ... are they ok?”

Krill walked to stand next to Sunny, “It looks ugly, but Dr. Katie tells me that thousands of humans get it every year and survive without medical intervention, so they should be ok.”

Sunny glanced towards the containment opening.

“IS it contagious.”

He glanced over at her and then sighed realizing what she planned on doing, “With this strain, only for humans.” With their unspoken agreement made, she stepped forward and unzipped the outer layer whistling for the dog who jumped in after her. She close it off and then opened the door into the other room closing it behind her.

The interior was hot and muggy, and there was a strange smell on the air.

IF sunny knew one thing about humans, it was how social they were. If that was the case, it just seemed wrong to her to leave them suffering alone in the dark. She was about to head towards the commander when the other human curled up and shivering caught her eye. With a call she motioned the dog over patting the bed next to the human. The dog, seeming happy enough to help jumped up next to the human and lay down immediately.

Sunny was pleased at the smile smile she received from, closed-eyes human who reached out a hand and began stroking the dog’s velvety ears. The dog scooted closer curled up against the human’s stomach. The human wrapped an arm around the dog, and maybe it was just Sunny’s imagination, but thought the human’s shivering died somewhat.

Pleased that one of the humans was taken care of, she walked over to where Adam was curled up on the floor shivering and coughing. He sighed in an agonistic sort of way. She grabbed a cup from the side table and filled it with water returning to the human.

She knelt next to him and prodded him through the blankets, “Adam.”

The human shifted sitting up from inside his cocoon.

She had noticed that habit some humans had, especially him. Upset, in pain, sick, they liked to make nests for themselves out of anything comfortable and fluffy in the immediate area. He looked at her with bleary eyes shivering, “Sunny..?” His skin was cold and clammy, and she could see the wet patches from sweat on his chest and stomach. He would be losing water quickly like that.

She handed him the water, “Drink, or Krill is going to get an IV on you instead.” The human grumbled but complied.

He finished the water but was hit with another racking cough that had him doubled over. Sunny sat back in worried confusion. The human sat up snuffling and groaned, “my back.” He muttered, “hurts so bad, but it’s so cold.”

Sunny held out a hand to feel the heat radiating from the human’s skin.

She wasn’t entirely convinced about the cold thing, but took him at his word piling his blankets back on top of him.

She stood and returned to the other human urging a cup of water into her hand before returning to Adam, who had burrowed himself away like some kind of slimy lizard. She took a seat next to him learning against the wall and nodded to Krill who watched her from the outside. He would have been able to come in too, but he was dealing with other patients at the moment.

She leaned back against the wall dozing a bit woken at some point in the darkness as something moved close to her crawling up to rest itself on her legs. She looked down to find the pile of blankets and pillows shifted next to her human pressed up against her. She pulled the blankets back curiously only to find the human looking worse than ever.

His eye had a strange glassy quality, he had stopped shivering but for a subdued tremor. The eye closed and he slumped against the ground half asleep or nearly dead she wouldn't have been able to tell accept for the back and forth movement of his head as he began to dream.

He moaned in pain or fear she still wasn’t sure..

She grabbed the human with her lower arms and adjusted his blankets with the others letting him rest in her lap hoping whatever he was dreaming about would subside before it woke him up. It scared her to watch as the virus ravaged through the human’s body. He thrashed in his sleep disquieted waking up only to fall asleep again in the same cycle. His breathing was raspy and labored. HIs body quaked with the cold one moment, and then he was pushing the blankets away for the extreme heat in the next moment. The coughing was the worst, beginning with full body spasms and ending with the human hunched over in agony at the end the shivering causing the already aching muscles even greater pain worsened by coughing. Sunny tried to help tried to get the two humans as much water as she could.

On the other side of the room, the dog licked the human’s arm in sympathy as she shivered. She had to leave in the morning to get her duties finished decontaminated before leaving, and came back later that evening when the dog was getting up from Adam to move back to the other human.

Sunny looked at Krill for an update.

He shook his head, “They woke up, but they didn’t eat. Been resting pretty uneasily, Commander says he keeps having nightmares. Narobi reports her dreams aren't exactly pleasant either. Dog seems to help, she's been keeping them good company.”

Sunny nodded, “It looks so…. Painful.”

“You have anything like it on your planet?” He wondered.

“Rot lung I guess, but its slower, sort of a lifelong thing…. I suppose you can also get infections caused by wounds, and there are a few others, but nothing like this.”

He nodded, “We can get skin rot pretty easily, but we have dealt with it. The blight is pretty bad and can leave you deformed…. I just can’t believe they find something like this normal.”

“I’m gonna head back in, seems kind of wrong to keep the humans isolated.”

Krill didn’t argue letting her return to check on the far human first. Setting up some more water, stroking the dog’s ears and then returning to Adam. He was asleep as of just then half in and half out of his blankets like he couldn’t decide whether he was warm or cold. She wrapped him back up, and he absently curled up against her in his sleep. His hand rested against the floor leaving a humid mark behind it once she tucked it back in his blankets.

The worst of the symptoms lasted for three days with the humans only getting up to drink some water and go to the bathroom.

By the fourth morning Sunny was sitting in her usual spot as the human shifted and sat up.

He touched a hand to his forehead, and turning to look at him she found the redness gone from his face from the fever that had been raging past two days.

He glanced over at her looking a bit surprised, “Shit…. I thought I dreamed you being here the whole time.”

“No, I determined it was improper to leave humans isolated.”

He coughed lightly and winced, “Sure you did….” He either winked at her or just blinked, with only one eye she had trouble telling, “keeping acting like this and people are going to start thinking you like me.”

She snorted and pushed him over with one hand, “Go back to sleep you big idiot.”

He didn’t sit back up,”Mmmm probably a good idea. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You look like you got hit by a truck.”

He rolled over trying to make himself comfortable, “Rude.”

She leaned her head back against the wall, “What…. Did that feel like? I have never seen anything like it before…. It scared me.”

The human snorted then coughed again, “Depends on what you’re asking about. Your throat hurts like your esophagus is lined in sandpaper, your face hurts because of the pressure in your nose from the swelling and all the gunk in your sinuses. Your entire body just aches made worse by the shivering which makes those muscles hurt more. Then the coughing comes in, and that just adds to the issue and it hurts your throat. Your chest is congested so it's hard to breathe, and it hurts. Generally your head hurts too, and your fever is so high it's just hard to think. When you sleep it isnt well and the dreams are weird as shit. At the worst of it, you're not even sure if you are awake or not….. Short answer is it sucks.”

“I’m sorry….. You humans really got dealt a shit hand…. I never thought it would be so….”

“Easy to take out a human?”

“Yeah…”

“Id say a lot of the stuff we evolved to survive also made our lives shit….. The fever comes to kill off the virus or bacteria or whatever, but it can also cause brain damage if it goes to high, which is kind of a bummer, plus it feels terrible.”

She patted his shoulder in sympathy.

He curled up and sighed, no longer shivering and promptly fell back asleep.

By the fifth day, the humans were sitting up and eating and even walking around a little. Day six they were declared no longer contagious but ordered to wear surgical masks. Still they were left weak achy and commander vir spent much of the time sleeping curled up in another makeshift nest, this time in his own rooms.

The other human approached sunny upon leaving grabbing her by the arm to stop her before, “Thank you, Sunny…. I know you were really there for the commander, but I appreciate you thinking of me.”

Sunny tilted her head in surprise confused that the human would thank her for something so minor, by the time sunny had thought of anything to say, the other human was already gone.

She thought she now understood why ril was always so worried about his humans.

Humans getting sick was actually kind of scary.

She didn’t like it

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 4 years ago

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How about some pandemic shenanigans with Bones to blow off some of the steam? I'm halfway through a "porn with PPE" fic that I'm not sure will ever see the light of day, but hopefully you have better luck!!

Earth shattering kaboom, right? Lemme see if I can write this on my lunch break - I’m rusty!

XxX

The longer you lived in the hot isolation suits, masked and gloved and goggled and taped at the seams, the more you noticed his goddamn eyes. You thought it might just be dehydration and delusional thoughts as a result of that dehydration coupled with lack of sleep.

Or it could just be that his eyes were incredible. There was the green ring. And then the gold ring. And then the warm coffee brown ring. You’d never seen eyes like Leonard McCoy’s before, and you’d never really noticed his until they were all you could see.

“Doc,” you nodded over your patient as he approached the bed.

“Nurse.” The way his eyes crinkled, you knew he was smirking. At the very least, he was smiling. “Update?”

“He had a rough night. Temp spiked for about 6 hours and we finally got it down. Good old fashioned Acetaminophen. Given orally, if you can believe,” you started. “But the necrosis at the buboes is spreading faster than I’d expected, and the edema has spread up into his trunk so his breathing is quite laboured. We gave furosemide but he’s not really improving.”

“Geoff says the wounds are tunnelling and necrosing as fast as it spreads. Get a debridement tray, we’ll see if we can slow it down.”

Working beside Bones was always the favourite part of your day. He was always in teaching mode, determined that his team would be the best example of continued education and competent practice. So he spoke as he worked, his soft drawl tempering the occasional curse that slipped out in frustration. He always looked up, a little guilt flashing through his expression when he swore and you found yourself grinning and shaking your head.

He left you to check on another patient, and as you worked packing one of the wounds, you saw another start pouring more thick, purulent pus. And unlike the other wounds, you could smell it through all your PPE.

“Bones!” You called, trying to keep your voice calm. The drainage became thicker and starting coming faster. “Bones!” You yelled.

Doctor McCoy rounded the corner to you just as the wound started to erupt, covering your PPE with the foul smelling junk.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he dropped a thick absorbent pad across the wound, holding it down to prevent further spray. You nodded, meeting his eyes. Goddamn those eyes.

“Just wipe my face shield so I can keep working,” you asked. You took over covering the wound and allowed Doctor McCoy to wipe your mask clean. He turned back to the wound, irrigating it until it ran clear and then rummaging around in it until he found the source of the goo.

“Shit,” he breathed “that’s blood.” Again his gaze met yours and your gut tightened. Not the time to be feeling lust, but there it was. Lust and gore.

“Is that even possible?” You asked. “It’s more pus than anything.”

You both looked at the biobed at the same time, right as the ensign’s blood pressure dumped and he started convulsing. Everything dropped into slow motion as the two of you worked through the resuscitation. Ultimately, you lost him, the infection was just too far gone.

You were both dripping in sweat. You were still covered in the purulent blood that had blown out of the wound at you, and Bones wasn’t much better from working on the ensign.

“We need to clean up,” he decided. “Meet me in decontam.”

You started clearing away the debris from the code response until another nurse shooed you away, citing your stench.

Leonard was already stripped down to his scrubs and was waiting for you. You hadn’t seen him outside of his PPE in weeks, and he had grown lazy about shaving. The stubble on his cheeks made him sexier than you’d remembered, and you felt an awkward surge of lust for your superior. You’d always found him attractive. This was just more. He cocked an eyebrow in question.

“What are you standing there for?” He asked, gesturing for you to turn around. “I’m going to slit your suit up the back. Doff it into a pile in front of you. Hopefully that will keep you clean.

You nodded dumbly and felt your body heat in embarrassment. “Uh, Bones?”

“What?” He asked, placing a hand on the name of your neck to pull the PPE away from your body.

“I don’t have scrubs on,” you admitted, your voice just above a whisper.

“And?” He asked, not the least bit surprised. Nearly no one was wearing scrubs under their PPE. It was just too damn hot in this planet.

“I just thought I should warn you,” you responded, somewhat meekly. You looked over your shoulder and met his amused look with embarrassment and then felt annoyance prickle down your spine. Damn his pretty eyes, you weren’t going to be embarrassed about this. You turned back and dipped your head so he could cut away the PPE.

He carefully reached into the hood and flipped it forward off your head, gently untangling your hair from the zipper before tracing his hands across your shoulders and pushing the coverall sleeves down your arms. With your still-gloved hands, you pulled the sleeves loose as he ran the scissors down the back all the way to the top of your underwear. A wave of goose flesh traced up your back and you shrugged your shoulders involuntarily.

“Sorry,” he apologized, although there was no way he knew what he was sorry for. You paused, and caught your breath, before resuming pulling the soiled mess away from you. When you had it down to your waist, you paused again and waited for Leonard to finish cutting down the back of the legs so you could nearly step out of the mess entirely.

“Who helped you out of your stuff?” You asked, suddenly recognizing the intimacy of his assistance and feeling a surge of jealousy against whomever had been his assistant.

“I wasn’t the mess you are. I was able to get out on my own.” His words were hot against the skin at your waist and you had to close your eyes against the unbidden visual of his body so close to yours. Your breath was a little ragged on the exhale.

“Lift one foot at a time and I’ll pull it off,” he ordered. “Lean on my shoulder if you need help with balance.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder and lifted your left foot then your right, carefully balancing until the last moment when you started to wobble. And then, with a shriek, started to topple. In trying to avoid crushing Leonard, you didn’t turn quite far enough sideways and fell a little forward. Into your soiled PPE.

Leonard immediately jumped to his feet and pulled you back to your feet, showering you both with the contaminated muck from the ensign’s wound.

“Fuck,” you cursed. Before you could get your bearings, Leonard was pulling his scrubs off and dragging you into the chemical shower. He pulled the handle to start the chemical disinfectant over you both. You let the chemicals rest on the congealing blood until it made a thick paste and you were able to slough it off. You locked eyes with Leonard and froze as he moved toward you, reaching for your head. He turned you briskly, pulled the tie out of your hair and started massaging the chemical powder in, using his hands to pull thick globs of goop out again. It slapped wetly against the floor, with a noise that made you want to gag.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, turning to face him.

“Not like you did it on purpose, sweetheart.” His indifferent shrug relaxed you and he met your gaze again, and smiled softly. “I mean, unless you did do it on purpose?”

“To what end?” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You think I haven’t seen how you look at me, all decked out in my PPE? You just wanted an excuse to get me down to my skivvies,” he teased. You felt the heat of embarrassment rush over you at the truth of his words and spun on your heel to avoid betraying yourself.

“You think you’re so funny,” you shot, trying to be pert but mostly sounding hurt. You opened the door to the wet shower stall and stepped in, determined to just get clean and head back to your temporary quarters. You hazarded a backward glance and saw Bones standing there, staring at you with a bewildered look on his face.

You turned the water on and let it pour over you, sluicing what was left of the muck off you and down the drain. You rubbed the special anti-infective shampoo in your hair and leaned your forehead against the shower stall, wondering why you were suddenly so aroused by everything to do with Leonard McCoy. You drew in a deep breath and leaned back under the spray, planning to rinse your hair and then take your bra and panties off and toss them in the incineration bin, but you leaned back into a warm body.

You spun into Leonard’s arms and let out a surprised squeak.

“What are you -“ he interrupted you with a soft kiss. It was tentative and gentle. You pulled away and look at him in confusion. His eyes were soft and more hazel than anything else.

“You are -“ he started, and then broke his gaze. “I mean, I think -“ he trailed off again.

“Yes, Doctor McCoy?” You raised an eyebrow and gave him a little smirk. He cringed and looked at you again.

“Please tell me I’m not a fool,” he pleaded. You shook your head.

“You’re an incredibly intelligent man and one helluva intuitive doctor,” you offered. He tipped his head back into the stream of water and groaned. You pulled him back toward you, taking his face in your hands. You tipped his head down to yours and pressed a kiss against his lips. “Incredibly intuitive, and yet, here we are, standing in a shower, not clean, when we could be heading back to quarters.”

“Let me finish washing your hair,” he demanded, pressing his lips against your shoulder.

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