#i think linguistically this centers the receiver more and makes it feel more like youre in the mind of the person being kissed

[creativenicocorner]

The Runaway's Gamble! (pomodori . .?)

Thank you so much for the ask @niemalsetwas ♡

Okay! So The Runaway's Gamble is a fic that is set post everything in Discworld, and centers around the concept of Young Sam feeling the need to runaway...he does this...in a not great way, right into on Moist von Lipwig's mail coach as he sets off to personally deliver an important letter to someone in the Sto Plains (take your bets now as to who the receiver might be hehe)

Since Moist is in his gray suit Young Sam doesn't recognize Moist as the Postmaster...meanwhile Moist is having a panic attack and is internally screaming cause "oh gods that's the commander of the watch's son!! I'm doomed!!"

To which Moist tries to subtly figure out why Young Sam has run away from home, and tries to just as subtly convince him to Not Do That.

Angua ends up joining them, as she was sent to track down Young Sam...and now Young Sam has two known runaways trying to subtly convince him to Not Be A Runaway and Go Home

Shenanigans ensue

The way the wip is going....it's probably going to be longer than three chapters lol Cause there's just so many delicious small nuances I'd love to explore

Especially, though not limited to: Moist and Angua friendship (I just think they'd have so much to talk about)

I don't entirely remember if I shared this on tumblr already... I'm pretty sure I shared it with Babblish at some point

ANYWHO a small rough snippet:

“I may have to update my message to her.” Angua shrugged. “So you’re just… going to continue tailing us until I convince the kid to return home?” “Obviously.” “Dressed like that?” Angua stared at him blankly.  “He’s a smart kid, and if he catches just a hair of you, everything can go kaput!” Angua volleyed with a smug smile, and pulled a little something from her back pocket. “Turn around.” Moist raised a brow, the sort of brow that suggested ‘you and I both know there’s a dirty joke in there somewhere’. “Just do it,” growled Angua. Moist raised his hands, and turned, wordlessly, eyebrow still arched. Once he realized what Angua was doing, he started whistling through her change process so not to hear any hairy details.  A snuffling huff caught Moist’s attention again. He turned.  It was Angua, with a bandana, a pretty one to be sure, a blue base color with cherry red and gold designs. But it didn’t change the fact that it was Angua, in wolf form, with a bandana. Moist clapped his hands together, and couldn’t hold the sarcasm back as he said, “inspired.”  Her upper muzzle curled. Angua swore she’d never mention this was Carrot’s idea. 

And then a newer one just a bit later, still rough. I'm trying to work on how to make the difference between them speaking Morkporkian and Überwaldian distinct beyond just saying 'they're speaking Überwaldian' unfortunately I'm not a linguist lol and am doing just that...for now, we'll see... perhaps I'll change the quotations to another kind perhaps to the guillemet («...») to indicate a language change hmm... ANYWAYS:

"I have insights I want to share with him too," whispered Angua, unprompted. She was speaking in Überwaldian once more, meaning she didn't want to be mistakenly overheard by the sleeping Young Sam. Moist looked up from the fire, and halted in his log poking. He spared a glance at Young Sam, to ensure he was still asleep before responding, likewise in Überwaldian, "I don't know how well the bandana trick can work in your human form. Your physique, if you don't mind me saying, isn't too forgettable." Angua sneered at him, a human faced equivalent of a warning growl. Moist raised his hands in airs of harmlessness, "I'm not saying anything that isn't known, Baroness." Angua rolled her eyes, and clicked her tongue. "You're right," she said, sneer turning into a smirk as her posture changed to a more confident position, "I do have an unforgettable body." Moist nodded his agreement in the airs of one concurring that 'yes the painting of Reclined Nude with Vase and Flowers is beautiful'. "So you see how it'd be difficult for you to talk to him like this, in uniform no less." "But not impossible," said Angua straightening. Moist sat up a bit more, attentive. The hairs on the back of his neck standing up a bit at the promise of Angua's mischievous tones. Moist could sniff mischief like a spider could sense the change of an air current over it's many little hairs. He leaned forward with a grin, mischief in persona. "Yeees?" It may have been the firelight, but for a moment Angua could have sworn his eyes glinted and shon. It was a little distracting. She shook her head, and powered on ahead, "Well, you're good at disguises..." "Yeees?" "Perhaps, uh...I could-" "Steal a set of clothes off a clothesline, and have your make up done in a certain way unrecognizable to yourself?" Moist said all in one breath. His grin grew toothier by the vowel. "Oh. Um, yes actually." "What are your thoughts on eyepatches?" "I'd probably hate it." "Excellent!"

As for imbottigliando pomodori (working title) that is a mp100 Reigen centric fic that came to me at the end of summer last year while helping my aunt harvest make and bottle tomatoes for tomato sauce.

The fic is one of many I enjoy exploring in which Reigen learns healthier ways to improve as a person instigated by himself. Cause I love it when Reigen decides to better himself, and doesn't want to get left behind while Serizawa and Mob and everyone else are doing their best to better theirselves.

In this fic Reigen deals with the after trauma of what happened at the end of the REIGEN spinoff manga...as I sort of love exploring the post REIGEN manga space and the lingering consequences Reigen had by not only accepting but fully Embracing Rusty-sama (even if it was briefly)

It's still a very vague vibe of an idea atm.

I'm playing with the idea that Reigen leaves Seasoning for a bit to join a group of enthusiastic gardeners to learn how to make their own tomato sauce...perhaps occasionally sending letters to Serizawa and Mob?

Currently the summary is: In which Reigen learns about matters of the heart, that self improvement does Not mean self isolation, and tomatoes. 

Again, right now it is just a vague jumble of vibes and feelings haha I don't think the rating will get higher than Teen and Up for this...

Thank you so much again for asking! ♡

Best wishes!

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

“press a kiss to [body part]” > “kiss their [body part]”

“he was being kissed” > “[name] was kissing him”

[inessencedevided]

Interest check: multilingual mdzs creations event

Hey mdzs/cql fandom!

This is an interest check (by @rose-nebulijia and me) for an event that aims to celebrate the diverse linguistic and cultural backgrounds of the mdzs fandom.

What we’re proposing

An event aimed at creators of all possible forms of content (fanart, fanfic, edits, gifs, fanvids; to name some examples) that intents to shine a spotlight on the kind of creations that usually get a bit less attention because they are not in English (and consequently might not even get made).

You have a favourite poem in your mother tongue that you really think fits wangxian but you didn’t think if you put it on an edit anyone would reblog it? There’s a line from a song in a language you’ve been studying that makes your heart ache for Jiang Yanli? You’ve always wanted to center a piece of fanart around that very specific word in your favourite language that is untranslatable into English? You have a strong emotional connection to a language and want to recreate your experience studying it in a fic featuring mdzs/cql characters?

Those are just some examples :) Anything mdzs/cql related that is centered around a language you care deeply about would have a place in this event!

Why we’re proposing it

A while ago (cough) @rose-nebulijia and I had a talk and found out that we had many sources of inspiration for fanworks that weren’t in English. Given that this fandom is centered around a source material that isn’t in English and knowing that a lot of people were inspired to study Mandarin because of MDZS/CQL, we hoped that we’d have enough company to center an event around this concept.

With this being a large and diverse fandom, we’d love to see some of that diversity being given an outlet.

Languages, no matter if they are our mother tongue or our second, third or even fourth language, hold a part of ourselves. Our hope is that with this event, we as a fandom can access entire oceans of creativity that, so far, have been relatively unsailed.

Who can participate?

Everyone! With all kinds of original fan content!

Which languages will be accepted?

All of them!

Yes, English, too. Since so much of the tumblr-centric mdzs/cql fandom happens in English, the idea of this event is to give languages other than English a place to shine. This does not mean that we will exclude English language creations. In fact, we will be happy to receive them! As we said, the event is for languages you care deeply about – which can, of course, also be English. This is just a gentle reminder that, if you ever wanted to create something in a language you thought would never get attention on tumblr, this event will the time to do so.

How will the event be structured?

The idea is for this event to run for a week, with each day being under a different theme.

For now, we are aiming for a week in November, since this is after some of the other large fandom events in our orbits are over but before the holiday exchanges start.

Do I need to sign up to participate?

No! :)

All that will be required is that you follow the event blog and post your creations on the day with the theme you created them for, using the tag(s) we will announce once the event is launched.

You can post on as many or as few days as you like.

How will we promote the creations?

We will create a blog for this event where all original creations for the event will be reblogged.

What to do now?

If you’re interested, please let us know by liking, commenting on, or reblogging this post. (The last one especially, a signal boost is always appreciated! ;))

If you want to be tagged once the event is launched, tell us so in the notes.

Any more questions?

Feel free to drop an ask at either @rose-nebulijia or @inessencedevided 💙

[windblooms]

hey there! Saw that requests were open and wondered if I could see a scenario of Albedo confessing/how he would confess? I just really love his character overall and I wish I had him so I can read about his story and such 🥲🥲🥲 thanks in advanced!! If you do write this

- ̗̀ albedo confessing would be like . . .  ̖́-

endeavoring an entirely different language.  albedo is self-aware enough to know that his social approaches are more pragmatic than most – “cold”, as others might (stubbornly) put it.  it’s not that albedo cares about what they think, however: in the days leading up to his confession, he debates with himself about how you might receive each option, and how he should convey himself.

he considers a myriad of scenarios (after all, has anyone ever heard of an academic head who isn’t meticulous?): he could ask you to meet him by the fountain in mondstadt’s center, with a bouquet of cecilias nicely bundled – that’s a classy and romantic start.  or maybe he could ask you to take a stroll with him to the great tree at windrise, and watch crystalflies with you before admitting his feelings . . . ?  hm, but maybe starsnatch cliff will do . . .

so many alternatives to choose from.  he maps out each idea with your preferences in mind, although ultimately, is one to keep things simple.  in the end, he settles on windrise, and informs you of the desired meeting rather candidly.

“if you’re available, i would like to spend time with you at vennessa’s great tree this evening.  ah, no, not for an experiment or study.  just for company and to talk.”

admittedly, his request is rather suggestive to his true intentions.  albedo is an honest young man, not one for linguistic schemes or subtle falsehoods; with an expectant countenance, he observes as you blink rapidly at his proposition, before confirming your agreement to his meeting.  

he will insist on bringing cecilias – a personal memento from him, as they’re symbolic of mondstadt . . . and he thinks they smell nice.  as he finalizes the freshly picked bouquet, he also adds in small geo blooms from his solar isotoma, specked with shades of topaz and lapis.  with the glow from the crystalflies at windrise, it should be an adequate gift.

the stars are bright out, dotting the expansive, indigo canvas of the sky.  as you approach him tentatively at the base of the tree, he manages a slight smile, offering the sparkling bouquet with both hands.

for once, his breath is somewhat abated: this is the one (if not the only) time in his life when he’s become emotionally invested in another person – and albedo isn’t exactly known as a social individual, with only a small circle of companions.  the anticipation that prickles him while he awaits your response is unlike any that he’s felt before in the face of alchemy and academics: it coils around his stomach, and his mind feels as if it’s somewhat sinking.

but you make it evaporate once your fingers brush against his, accepting his flowers.  you hug them to your chest, the blossoms skimming along your jaw and framing your face; the compulsion to illustrate you, in this moment, nearly seizes his brain and hold it hostage.  but, ah, he doesn’t have his sketchbook on him right now –

“they’re wonderful, albedo.  thank you so much.”

while crystalflies flutter among the branches, albedo is more than willing to count them as stars as you lay besides each other on the velvet grass, raising your fingers to trace constellations.

[urmomsstuntdouble]

Can you do one for america

Since I received this about an hour or two after posting my lithuania analysis, I assume you’re asking for an america character analysis. I was debating whether or not to go through with writing this or not for a while, but i’ve decided that I’ll try. I hope you enjoy it!

Idealism

The first thing that sticks out to me when thinking about america is that he’s super idealistic, and I think this has its roots in his birth. Everything in his life has been about hope and being better than others, even down to the decision to colonise north america. England needs to be the most powerful country in europe. Better set up a colony in america so that it can save us. It’s that sort of logic that i think gives america the idea that he needs to be perfect, or that he can be the ideal person. And though a lot of what we consider to be the “american” identity (intense patriotism, nativism, idealism, etc) took recognizable shape in the 19th century, i think this way of thinking was nothing new to alfred. He’d been raised on it, with the desire to please arthur sort of in his blood? Anyway i feel like the idea that the colonies would be so so prosperous really put the idea into america’s head early on that he was perfect and that he was destined to be such a great person, even if that wasn't true. I often see his daddy issues presented as solely abandonment issues, but my interpretation of america is more of a combination of abandonment issues and the pressure, some of it self inflicted, to be a perfect country. Basically, his idealism is deeply rooted in unhealthy places. 

Also, a religion headcanon i have is that while he was more raised to be a puritan, freddie prefers quakerism. Though he’s not the most compatible with quakerism, as it rejects violence and quakers often refer to themselves as the society of friends, and are very welcoming, i think it gives him some hope. One of freddie’s biggest problems is that he wants people to be better than they are, and quakerism helps a little with that, because it’s a way that he can help himself become better than he currently is. I feel like he’s been a quaker for a very long time, so he’s not a very good quaker, but this is still something that’s very important to him. 

Hero complex and other mental bullshit

America having a hero complex and also being physically 19 is something i think really highly of. First of all, it very much fits with the mythology of america being a sort of world savior. Secondly, a lot of american media focuses on heroism, whether its on the behalf of average people, like the hunger games, or on the behalf of superheroes, like the mcu- especially over the past 20 years. Though i think it’s a good thing to promote heroism, the hero-martyr complex that gen z has is. Oof. And i think alfred fits very well into that toxic sort of “heroism” that most gen z kids have. He thinks he’s somehow able to fix everything wrong with the world, just because he really wants to. Though that desire is genuine, it’s not always something that’s his place to fix or something that even needed fixing. There’s also a selfish component to that- He needs to prove himself, and heroism is the only way he thinks he can do that. It’s why he works out constantly and cares so much, on a personal rather than country-avatar-thing level, about being #1 at everything. He has to be better than everyone else because he has to be the perfect hero. 

I also think it’s interesting how america seems to have more pronounced daddy issues than canada, and i think this is something that harkens back to the 13 colonies (side note i hate the term ‘colonial times’ when referring to the time before the revolutionary war or canadian independence. These are settler states, its always colonial times.) and american independence. Canada sort of only exists because of british loyalists, as they made up the majority of the population around the turn of the 19th century. They saw themselves as being The Better Colonists. Real daddy’s boy types, and I think this is something that contributes to the hero complex. Because matthew refused to rebel so openly, that made arthur favor him as a son, so alfred felt the need to be even better than matthew- even though, of course, alfred was a bit more favored. 

Fighting Style

Freddie is very good at violence, but not in the same way that a lot of other nations are. Where they tend to be more well trained in specific styles of fighting, freddie just sort of has all of them? His mind is very crowded, i think. Also, the way that he would have learned to fight is different from the other super powerful countries by virtue of his youth, and by virtue of the different regional fighting styles in america. One that’s haunted me is a trend in the ability to rip off ears and noses- Particularly by white gangs in the antebellum south, this was seen as being like. A real badass. I think alfred was something of a feral child. If you know the saying “it takes a village to raise a child,” i think it really did with him. He had so many parents, just like a lot of the western hemisphere countries. But anyway because of all his many many parents, there was never any strong parental force in his life, so it’s more like he didn’t have any at all, and because of that, alfred was a very strange child. And because violence is so ingrained in american society, alfred is very good at fighting, both in order to be fun and flashy and for his own self defense. Though he doesn't really like to fight unless he feels like he has to (and other people are very good at convincing him that he does have to)

Sports

Though america is definitely super athletic and could probably naturally be good at most sports, i think there’s a few that he’d more gravitate towards. Those are basketball, track and field, and olympic lifting. I would include american football but it’s a stupid sport that doesn’t make any sense, so it will not be included for spite reasons. In basketball I think he’s sort of an every-man. I think he’s around six feet tall, so he really could play any position on offense, and as for defense, I think he’d play his best defense against the point guard, bc i feel like Alfred is really fast and good at getting up in your face. He’d have a ton of steals whenever defending against the point guard. I think he’d be a good center on offense, because he’s a bit aggressive and that would be useful for getting rebounds and put-backs, though i wouldn’t discount point-guard freddie, because he does like to be very inspiring. He’s pretty energetic as well, and a point guard can really carry the entire team in terms of energy and spirit. As for track and field, he’d also be an every man- I feel like he’d gravitate more towards sprinting events by personality, but his coach would stick him in wherever. Where olympic lifts are concerned, he’s absolutely a snatch specialist. 

Empire and contradictions

America is an empire. No way of getting around that. I think imperialism in hetalia is an interesting subject, especially where america is concerned. @mysticalmusicwhispers did a good job running that down here, but basically my thoughts on the matter are that alfred doesn't really like being an empire. There’s many angles to that. It’s lonely at the top, for one. There’s no one who relates to being a 21st century empire in quite the same way as him. Then you have the fact that a lot of people living in america have suffered under imperialism as well. Because of that, there’s a lot of self hatred and anxiety and a not knowing if he can fully trust himself. Theres also the obsession that many americans have with people from other cultures being able to assimilate to american wasp culture. Because of all the people who live in the states who are very much not wasps and who can never be, it’s really hard on alfred, though he refuses to admit that things are anything but fine. 

Extras/Fun stuff

A book that reminds me of him is The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. It’s a collection of short stories about O’Brien’s time serving in the military during the Vietnam War. It’s a very haunting book and I think about it at least once a week, but it is very violent and there’s a lot of fucked up stuff in it.

giveme chubby alfred or give me death

i feel like this shouldn’t have to be said, but sometimes there’s people who depict him as being pro-trump or pro-right wing bullshit, which. absolutely not. just because of all the political turmoil that exists within alfred, and because of all the pain he goes through because of all the hate that exists within his borders- hate that the entire world is forced to pay attention to. even though he might not have all the best sympathies or motivations, he’s just so tired of all the pain he personally goes through because of domestic political unrest, and would like it to end in the way that’s the least painful for him as a person. 

Bi king of my heart 

not a natural blond

I hc him as being mixed, though i’m not sure what exactly he’d look like? But i do enjoy alfred but not white, as poc are the driving force behind a lot of american life, right down to the languages we speak. Like. something like half the states names are the words of their indigenous peoples, and even more toponyms are indigenous across the country. Then of course i feel he’s very protective of aave and will always pronounce words in Not English correctly. (if u want to hear more about my language thoughts they’re linked below. Not gonna rehash it here cause those posts are Long™) 

My playlist for him!

Other analyses (age, linguistics) 

writing requests

[yelenasdog]

il un a visage gentil (prof!gwilym lee x prof! gn reader)

genre: fluff

summary: who knew the attractive english lit professor also happened to speak french? not his new coworker, that’s for sure.

words: 1.7k

warnings: reader embarassing herself a lil bit, that’s it :)

a/n: hi!! first of all, no pronouns are used as this is from readers pov, so anyone can read. second of all, so i typically don’t write for gwil, but i had this idea in french the other day when my french teacher (sweet old french man who deserves better LMAODSJO) was going over some assignment that for some reason had il un a visage gentil in it LOLOL. that being said, i obvi don’t speak fluent french and this is all fictional! love u, hope u enjoy!!

。·☔︎◎❦·。·

“Hello everyone, and welcome to your first day. I’m Dr Gwilym Lee, and I am the head of the English Literature Department here at Oxford University. Feel free to call me Gwil, it’s what all my students do.”

I slanted my eyes from my position at the door, gripping the frame just a tad tighter than I had been before hearing his voice. I continued to listen to the doctor talk as I made my way behind the last row of seats in the lecture room, trying not to make any noise. My heels were thankfully mute against the carpet, not drawing any attention towards me, the professor keeping complete focus on his students.

“One of the first things I wanted to kind of, um, touch on, is that I will be quite flexible. I understand that you have lives, as do I. As long as I can see an honest effort being put into my class, I will hold no repercussions for late work or being physically late to class.”

With that, he looked up to where I had just sat down, quirking a brow. The eye contact was momentary, only lasting what seemed to be a second, if that.

I cleared my throat, looking to my feet.

“We at the english department are quite proud of our status, ranking 4th in english programs overall in the UK. Now I won’t continue to bore you with the statistics, but-“

I made a scan of the room, seeing how only 1 or 2 pupils were actually listening, the rest either slumped over looking at their phones, or pretending to take notes on a laptop while really watching netflix. (More than one student was watching gossip girl, oddly enough.)

Considering it was only 5 minutes into the hour long lecture, I was confused, as he was holding my attention, at least, quite well.

After about 30 minutes, I realized that my own “first day lecture” was in 15 minutes, which assured that I most definitely had to leave. I was saddened by this (even though I had only even planned on staying in Gwil’s room for a small while.

I sighed quietly, picking myself up from the surprisingly comfortable seats and making my way towards the door. Just as I was about to go, I felt eyes boring holes into the back of my head. I turned, realizing Gwilym to be the perp. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again, quickly walking out and down the hallway to my own room.

I made it in, hurrying down the many stairs, past where a few students were waiting.

“Hi, everyone, I’ll just be a few moments, just waiting for the rest of your new classmates to arrive.”

I smiled briefly, before slamming my office door audibly, chest heaving with my back against the shaded window. I closed my eyes, unaware of why I had been so panicked by the brief interaction, not to mention the butterflies it hatched in my stomach.

After giving myself some time to decompress, I exhaled, smoothing out the skirt of my dress and rotating. I placed a hand on the handle, preparing myself for the fresh faced freshman.

As I opened the door, I heard half a knock, before whoever was behind the door (poor soul) essentially fell on top of me.

Expecting to see a red faced pupil who had just made a very interesting first impression, I looked up, suddenly becoming the one with a warm and itchy wave of embarrassment making its way up my neck.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” He stood up, reaching out a hand. I hesitated before reaching forward and gripping tightly, allowing him to tug me up.

“It’s alright, Gwil, really.”

He opened his mouth (not that I was paying any mind to his lips), presumably to ask my name. Before he got the chance, I beat him to it, blurting out my full title, unfortunately in a quite awkward way.

The students that had gathered had mostly turned their attention elsewhere by now, only a few of them still watching the live disaster that was my interaction with the incredibly attractive man in front of me.

He spoke up as I tried to maneuver my way around him to the podium positioned in the front of the room where my laptop was waiting.

“Well, I had assumed you were a student who was trying to sneak off early, but I stand corrected, then.” He looked around my slowly filling space, a slight amusement hiding in his gaze.

“Yes, sorry, I had caught you at a bad time, I was hoping to introduce myself, you know, trying to make a good impression. Feels like the first day of school all over again.” I laughed, bringing a hand up to brush away a stray strand that had somehow managed to escape my bun.

“It’s alright, don’t stress about it. And trust me, I get it. New jobs are scary.”

I huffed, looking out at the sea of judgmental young people that I now would have to face after that fiasco. Lovely.

“You could say that again.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for a short amount of time, the clock striking 2:30 being what woke me from my trance.

“That’s my queue.” I gave a small wave as he walked off, a smile spreading across his face at the motion.

I turned to my teaching assistant, fully believing he was out of earshot.

“Il un a visage gentil, eh?”

She only laughed, nodding her head and plugging in my macbook, allowing the screen to come alive with a flurry of colors in my powerpoint.

“Hi guys! Or should I say bonjour!” I paused, receiving a few chuckles in the crowd.

“I’m sorry for getting us started so late, I had a small mishap. I’m Dr Y/n Y/l/n, and I am your professor this year in the French undergraduate course, where you will have the opportunity to study medieval literature, modern day linguistics, and much more, which I will get into later on.

 We here at Oxford have the single largest French department in Britain, which we have come to have extreme pride in. We also have a french cultural center, where you will find a large selection of programmes and literature to choose from. If you haven’t yet checked it out yet,” I briefly looked up, seeing Gwilym still stood at the top of the stairs. He gave me another small smile, crossing his arms.

“Sorry, lost my place. Where was I?”

-

After class, I walked up to where the tall man had now moved to the side, allowing students to flood right by him.

“Gwil, hi!”

“Hi to yourself.”

I blushed, the feeling of fuzzy-ness once again flooding my entire system at just the brief statement. Odd. Extremely odd.

“That was very nice, I have a feeling this class will be quite popular in the coming years.”

I smiled and nodded my head. “Thank you, I appreciate it, truly. Although, I must say that I can tell everyone is racing to get a spot in Professor Gwilym Lee’s class 100% percent.”

He cocked his head, slimming his eyes.

“Really, you think so?”

We continued to walk down the long hallway, neither of us quite aware of where we happened to be going.

“Oh for sure, I can imagine you’re especially popular with a certain demographic, too.”

His confusion seemed to only grow, stormy blue eyes seemingly lost.

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” His voice slightly raised an octave at the end, earning a chuckle from me.

“Look, all I’m saying is that with looks like that, I bet your roster was full in seconds.”

I paused, the flow of conversation stopping as I came to terms with what I had just accidentally said. Out loud. In front of my new coworker, who happens to be incredibly gorgeous. A wonderful first day I’m having.

We resumed walking, a blanket of complete silence falling upon us all the way until we reached the entrance to the facility.

The chilly December air hit my face immediately, as well as droplets of rain that were falling so hard it felt like small bullets were grazing my nose, which I could barely feel after just a few moments outside.

“Here.” Gwil muttered, pulling out a bright red umbrella and using it to shield us both from the angry pellets sent from above.

“Ah, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Then it was quiet again between us both, minus the sounds of chattering students and the rain hitting and then sliding off of our cover, coming in contact with the ground with a final splat.

“You know,” Gwilym began, always the one to break the silence.

I hummed, turning my head in his direction.

“I speak a little bit of French, as well. And I think you also have a nice face.” He nudged my elbow and laughed, while I closed my eyes and sighed, hanging my head.

“So there really isn’t any other way I could possibly embarrass myself right now, is there?”

He only shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, now that I think of it, there might be one more thing I can think of?”

“What would that be?”

“Saying no to a cup of coffee?”

It was like I froze over completely, my mind suddenly growing blank when I needed it mostt.

“With me?” I asked, the question more aimed towards myself, a miniscule act of reassurance and affirmation.

Gwilym smiled brightly as he shook his head, and I swear, I had never seen anything more amazing.

“Yes, Y/n, with you.”

I stuttered, embarrassed for what seemed like the millionth time that day, specifically at my lack of verbal skills.

“Yes, yes of course, that sounds amazing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He offered me an arm which I gladly took, and we started walking to the quaint campus cafe just across the street from our building.

It was the same cafe where (not that we knew it yet) the both of us would make many late night coffee runs together during midterms week, the stressful time growing to become one of our favorites as it was now filled with giggles and caffeine. 

Usually it would end up with one of us, that one of us usually being me, leaving a ring of coffee on the other’s ungraded assignments. Or even better, spilling an entire drink on the paper, only a “sorry!” written in Gwil’s rushed handwriting at the top of the curiously scented paper as explanation.

But as I said, we didn’t know that yet.

。·☔︎◎❦·。·

kinda gross but whatevs, like and rb if u did indeed enjoy it. mwah, go eat some protein, take an electronics break and drink some water. love u 

xx hj

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 38 – Something None of Them Wanted or Expected

“Care to explain why I have to refresh my sore eyes with that face of yours? What a way to start a morning.”

<You know, you tend to turn more talkative and annoyingly eloquent whenever you see me. Did you modify your tongue by any chance? Does it run evolution on your linguistic ability whenever you spot me?>

“I’ve never done that, but that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I’ll see what I can do with it.”

<Geez, looks like joking is not an option any more in your presence.>

Despite his manners, Frankenstein aimed for more than vexing the werewolf lord.

“Please tell me you have a good reason why you requested a conversation with me so early. I’d thought I told you we must for the time being be cautious of every word we share, including those exchanged through transmission. And I couldn’t possibly be the only one who told you so.”

<Uh, the thing is, my kid will be busy for the next few days. So Adne and I decided to lend a claw or two.>

My kid?

Frankenstein was about to snap at him that he should be more specific with his term, when there are dozens of werewolves under his care.

But he held his voice, upon reminding himself that there is only one werewolf aside from Adne that Muzaka would ever mention to him at a time like this.

<Lunark found something lately from a facility in Crombel’s ownership. And she claimed she must take them outside to have them audited by an expert. So she won’t get to deliver you the data that Adne unlocked most recently.>

Audited by an expert?

Who could this expert be?

Whatever it is that she discovered, I doubt she can find the best expert other than me, in anything related to Union or Crombel.

But how come she didn’t come to me and......

Frankenstein sealed his lips tighter, albeit already zipped, in the middle of his cognitive complaints.

‘You shouldn’t be missing her, Frankenstein.’

He told himself a number of times that she is off-limits, especially since they had ended up exploring each other’s lips.

Nevertheless, here he was, painfully savoring how his heart was sailing towards her. He had to struggle to anchor his heart back to his chest.

<But Lunark did examine this data before she left it with me. And she said it’d be best to relay it to you as soon as possible. Let’s see what it...>

Muzaka began to fidget with something, unavailable for witness at Frankenstein’s angle of vision.

“Stop it. We didn’t get to diagnose the exact cause of the failure in activating QuadraNet. It’s not safe to disclose such an important resource on transmission, lest there be loss or leak.”

<Then what? Lunark is not available. How am I supposed to send this to...>

“I’ll fetch it myself.”

Muzaka made a peculiar face; it appeared as if he honestly wanted to slap his ears to see if they are functional.

<What do you mean, you’ll fetch it yourself?>

“There’s no other way, is there? Oh, no need to be concerned that other werewolves would be curious or suspicious of my visit. I’ll make sure no one else can see me.”

Frankenstein exhibited not the slightest hint of hesitation. If it was guaranteed that he will not get to see the certain gray-haired werewolf, there was no reason for him to stay away from wolfkind’s realm.

“So make sure I can receive it upon arrival. I’ll leave as soon as I get it; I’m a busy man myself.”

<Uh... Okay. Okay! G-great! I’ll see you soon.>

Frankenstein headed to 3rd Elder as soon as Muzaka’s face flashed off from the monitor, to let him know that once again he will be absent for a while.

“There is this jer... I mean, there is this someone I must see. So stay tucked. I won’t take long.”

Frankenstein did not even wait for a reply from the white-haired man.

The moment he was surely gone, 3rd Elder’s eyes were caught on fire.

Though he wished Frankenstein would have revealed where he was off to, he knew he should not wait to determine his destination.

So he drew out the plastic bag containing the sample of Frankenstein’s tonic, kept hidden all this time for this moment – the moment to let his old lab techniques shine.

Simultaneously, he prayed that Helga and their accomplice assistant would be ready.

*****

A few days later, in the werewolf realm

“Man – even the Kertias would flush in shame at your skills in stealth. How did you get here without sounding the alarm?”

“There is always a way, but don’t expect me to tell you. That’s not what I’m here for, after all.”

“Well, you’ve got a point.”

Muzaka stepped down from his thrown to lead his guest to one of werewolf labs, to present him with a pile of documents.

Frankenstein scanned the contents, before his eyes glinted.

“Huh...”

“What? Is it really that important?”

“...Pretty much.”

That was when he emitted an exasperated sigh, as if he could not believe he was saying this.

“I’d hate to admit it, but the Union and Ignes were not too shabby. The former actually devised such a genius weapon, and the latter sought to make it better.”

“A genius weapon?”

Now inquisitive, Muzaka peeked over Frankenstein’s shoulder.

“Genetic... Calibrator... Chip... GC chip? A weapon based on biochip technology? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Biochip. It’s a trick I’d often make use of. It’s no longer a stranger to the civilians, either. It requires human genetic information – DNA or protein – to work as a conductor on an electronic device or parts, to be connected to a computer, thereby allowing calculations and data interpretations of rate and accuracy beyond any human imagination or preexistent semiconductor. It’s a dreamlike technique that...”

“Speak human, will ya?”

“......Simply put, a biochip enables your computer to deal with data and information at a rate that only a biological brain can conduct. Consider it an essential element in shaping a computer into a fine mechanical mimicry of human brain.”

Muzaka did not withdraw the puzzled look on his face, but he did not ask for further explanation.

“Okay, if you say so. So what does this GC chip do?”

“It was to be used for weapons developed or manufactured by the Union. And for the computers that would control such weapons. They would download the DNA data laid inside the chip to target only the designated foe for assault.”

“So it makes a weapon capable of telling its targets on its own? I have no idea how that’s possible, but you’re right. Those rascals are not too shabby.”

Frankenstein continued with his ardent inspection of the document, wondering why Union had never flaunted such weapon. However, he could soon presume why.

‘Those monsters had long been standing as the summit of the world, thanks to their modified humans, technology in human modification, and the derivative profit. I doubt they could find a threat fearsome enough to take on with such weapon. And even though we later served as their great adversary, they wouldn’t have had samples to use against us, nobles, or werewolves.’

His assumption was proven by the note on the document, specifying how the GC chip never made it out of the list of weapons on a hold.

And obviously Ignes did not agree with such course of action.

“She was hoping to refine this weapon, to make it work exclusively on modified humans loyal to those that oppose her.”

“So they laugh and chit-chat under the chandelier but seek for a chance to bite at each other’s head on their carriages back from the ball. That’s so much like the Union, though I shouldn’t be saying this as an ex-tenant of Crombel’s lab.”

Frankenstein retorted with a snort and an expression that he is not completely brainless.

“Speaking of which, is the reconstruction all over now?”

“Sort of. This isn’t the first time, so there was no need for me to give orders.”

Muzaka grinned, despite the fact that having to rebuild his land on multiple basis is nothing to be proud about.

“But I couldn’t help getting scared during the process. I mean, we’ve already experienced destruction and construction several times. So I even came to think that maybe we should just leave things the way they are, since there’s a good chance they’d be dismantled again.”

“You know you can’t do that.”

“Oh, of course I do. But I’m scared as I speak. I wouldn’t be surprised to witness another facility breaking down to dust. Or hear something exploding.”

“No need to make yourself sound so ominous. The odds feel too high whenever you offer them.”

Muzaka snickered, as if telling his audience that he is worrying for nothing.

And just then resonated a CRASH, something none of them wanted or expected.

“...What was that?”

“H-how should I know? But it came from the biggest lab in our...”

“You mean the main lab? Where Mr. Jang worked?”

“Uh... Yeah. What about it?”

Then why are you still here?

Frankenstein glared at the werewolf lord briefly before he bolted. Muzaka soon caught up to him and outran him.

They soon got to see how the lab was already teeming with werewolf researchers and warriors.

“What was that all about?”

“Something just blew up, right?”

“Ugh, what’s the smell? This is the foulest, thickest smoke I’ve ever smelled!”

The atmosphere was close to chaotic, but werewolves did not fail in noticing Muzaka and letting him through the unbearably malodorous stench of smolder, followed by Frankenstein, whose presence nobody questioned due to the magnitude of the situation.

Once he reached the center of the commotion, Frankenstein could see why no one kept much interest in him.

“...What happened?”

Muzaka murmured at the sight of a hunched, terribly quivering werewolf, his tone no longer merry, now steeled with utmost rigidity and coldness.

Frankenstein’s heart seized as well upon identifying who he was.

“M-my lord......”

Adne was holding onto something with hands just as quivery.

Muzaka closed their distance, and Adne stepped back as he shook his arms like they were on fire.

“...This must be the network transmission modem. The one that human researcher installed for the QuadraNet. How come it’s in pieces? He told us never to touch it. You told me an urgent business came up before you left; is this what you were talking about?”

Adne’s lips mumbled something inaudible in a hurry, but with skittish eyes he surveyed the faces looking down at him before trembling once again.

“We gotta talk, Adne. We have a lot to talk about.”

Muzaka sternly announced, as Frankenstein narrowed his lips.

(next chapter)

The ideology and terminology for “biochip” and “biological computers” are not fictional. My original plan was to get into more details regarding the current research and commercial progress that has been made regarding these technologies. However, I decided to include only the most basic concepts about them, for I believe including something that requires professional comprehension would prove as hindrance in readers’ appreciation of a work.

Also, it’s about time to bring out the star of the show so far hidden - the apparent traitor in QuadraNet project. I’ve been providing hints about this traitor over the several past chapters; I’m not sure if you caught every single one of them, and I’ll definitely get into details about them in future chapters! Hopefully you’ll stay tuned until then!

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 18 || Share Those Secrets

Charlotte managed to get Piper to drive to the airport with her. Jasper was leaving too, as she suspected, so she would be sending all three of her guys off and she was in no condition to be able to drive away. She knew beforehand. By the time it happened, it was much worse. She hugged Henry and Jasper, tried not to cry on either of them. They held hands and headed for boarding. She clung to Max, trying not to cry, and also trying to let go of him, because it had to be done. She forced herself to smile and moved to kiss him. His tears wet her face and she lost it. “Why are you crying right now?” She asked. “We were supposed to tough it out!” Now, she was crying too.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m soft!” He said, squeezing her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go.

It was hard to watch for Henry and Jasper, so while Jasper teared up a little and begged Charlotte to just get on the next plane and come too, Henry pulled him away and awkwardly said, “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving…”

Charlotte wiped her face on Max’s shirt and he made a disgusted expression, “That was snot!”

“It’s payback. You were supposed to hold it together!”

“You KNEW that I wouldn’t!” He cupped her face and kissed her as the announcement sounded that he needed to board the plane. She pushed him, urging him to go, before she begged him not to. And whenever he left, she hugged herself and bit her lip.

“I really don’t get it,” Piper said.

“What? Why I didn’t go with them?”

“No. Why on Earth did they use a commercial flight whenever the Hero League supplies them with a ding dang private jet?” It was because they were going to be under their secret identities and couldn’t be seen near the jet just yet, but Charlotte didn’t feel like explaining. She was super sad.

Piper wrapped an arm around her back and said, “Come on. Let’s get you back to your dope ass house.”

Piper was around for a few hours before she had to head out. Charlotte hadn’t known how to tell her that she really didn’t want her there, anyway. She just wanted to be able to settle in by herself, since she would have to get used to being there by herself. She had no idea how much.

After only a couple of weeks, she lost contact with Max. Jasper had texted only to say, “Max scored an in into a target and was given the order to go all in.” She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Max’s number was disconnected and the only social media that he had left was for his alias, Borya Kozlov. And it had been altered significantly by the Hero League’s tech teams to look like it was many years older and even had doctored photographs that Charlotte had to presume were manufactured by a superpower, and not just some image designer. She had to get things translated, because she didn’t know a lot of Russian and Max wouldn’t let her try out his new and improved Instant Language Learner, because he had a rule about not allowing her to test out things that he wasn’t 100% certain of success. He had gone through a lot of mistakes in his youth and wasn’t going to let her become a target of any of the same type. So, she had been trying to learn Russian on her own.

Initially, she and Jasper had begun together, but he was a lot better at picking up languages, as a grammar nerd and a linguistics hoe. Charlotte understood and even memorized the rules and conditions, but actually executing the words, she was unable, so she’d stop trying to learn and didn’t think about the fact that she would probably have to READ it - that she tried to pick back up on, after she found the Kozlov pages, but she still needed a translator.

It became her thing. A month passed and Henry’s birthday and Thanksgiving were on the horizon. She was relieved and excited, because those were times that they could see see other and Jasper thrived at doing big birthday things for Henry, while Henry thrived on making a bomb ass Thanksgiving. The previous year was their first after meeting Max and he was still sort of a private person and a jerk to them, so they had a minimalist celebration in the tower and made their rounds through Swellview, collecting plates of food and Henry’s presents. She was looking forward to this year being the first in her new home - her and Max’s home… but a couple of weeks before, she heard a sound that she had only heard in the background before and hadn’t heard in a while…

“Incoming Call from President Kickbutt…” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for a moment, wondering why on Earth she would be receiving such a call, because she didn’t work for Kickbutt and Max was out on assignment… She rushed to the monitor and saw a woman with strong features and an interesting hairdo on the screen. “Good afternoon, Miss Page. I take it you know who I am.”

“Yes, Madame President. Of course. What do I owe this honor?”

Kickbutt raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what she expected, but she welcomed it. She looked slightly amused, but mostly unphased. “I’m afraid it won’t be news that you’ll be able to fully appreciate at the moment, but it is imperative.”

“Is Max okay? Is Henry alright?” Charlotte asked, panicking.

“Max is doing a stellar job. This is the most impressed with his work that I have ever been. You should know that he is very deep undercover, and now has ties to at least 12 high profile Russian supervillains, terrorists, and mobsters. At least one of them is suspected of being a spy, so he is unable to do ANYTHING that could possibly draw attention to something outside of his fabricated identity.”

“Including any contact with me.”

“Especially any contact with you. It’s the people closest to us that bring out our most vulnerabilities. I’m afraid that until we have solid evidence and have made every possible arrest that we are unable to risk him venturing outside of the parameters of this mission.”

“He’s… not just hero-ing? He’s on a high profile case???”

“It was not our intention, but it’s the way that things have happened. Whenever he caught the attention of an assassin who took an immediate liking to him, he leaned into it and now, we’re here. This unfortunately means that any visitation plans must be altered. As of right now, Henry is only acknowledged as a financial connection for him, so he is not watched as much and will be allowed to come to visit you for Thanksgiving. Your little friend Jasper insisted that the world would end if I wasn’t able to accommodate this. But. There is no way that we can risk Max coming outside of the boundaries of his assignment, currently. Millions of lives could be at stake if we lose just one of the 12 persons of interest.”

“Max is isolated and surrounded by terrorists and mobsters…”

Kickbutt shrugged, “He’s moving up in ranks, so he should be fine. And he’s one of the smartest young men to have ever worked for me. I assure you, as long as his cover isn’t blown, he will not be in any danger.”

“Are you able to communicate with him, at all? Does he… have someone near him?” Charlotte asked, twiddling with her shapeshifting necklace, anxiously.

“He has a handler. My very own daughter. And, he still has Henry, Miss Page.” Charlotte nodded her head and within moments, the call was over. He still had Henry. That helped her to be able to make it through the day… Not so much to sleep at night.

.

Henry was Ricardo Richfield and everybody called him Richie Rich. Jasper was his “simple plaything” or “trophy husband” to everybody. His alias was Douglas Ritchfield and according to the paper trail created for their safety, he and Ricardo had been married for three years. The mansion that they were moved into was big enough that it was extremely unlikely that anyone would come across the underground lair, and Max’s lab was one of those where someone could definitely find it and see into parts of it, but they couldn’t access it.

So, the first weekend that they were in Russia, they threw a huge party to celebrate Richie coming to Russia. The story was that he had done some things in the Americas and was hiding out here to avoid “justice.” He was supposed to be laying low and staying out of trouble, but the personality of his character was to absolutely not do that. He was a spoiled little rich kid playing gangster games and that would mean that he might attract those who may wish to do business with him.

Borya was a Russian scientist who he would make rich by funding his experiments. Max came up with these aliases for them, avoiding the typical “lay low and be mild mannered” and reaching more for, “Get into the thick of the crime world and bust it up from the inside out.” Henry and Jasper didn’t have many talents that could be impressed upon the criminal element, so Max settled for the “useless rich kid and even more useless lover” angle. That way, he could also express anytime they frustrated him, in Russian and they wouldn’t know, but the people around them would and it would probably be funny.

Max had a little bit of familiarity with Russian, because some of his favorite scientists were Russian and he’d watched several recordings of them, so he recognized a lot of words and also had their accent pretty well down pat. (Same for German, and Japanese, but that’s another point altogether). Max adjusted well to Russia.

As soon as they were away from Charlotte, he focused on some mental exercises to try to compartmentalize her away. The thing of it was that in trying to do that, he wound up just thinking about her more. She became his meditation center.

He would wake up everyday, brush teeth, wash up, burn one of her favorite candles and hope that she knew he was thinking of her as he tried to clear his mind and empty himself out for another day of work. Another day of pretending.

It didn’t take long for him to get his foot in the door of something very heavy. It was at the party that he met Zenovia. She was looking into his lab when he approached and directed her back towards the party.

“What are you making in there? Looks illegal,” she teased. He frowned, gripped her arm and forced her down the hallway, only to be met with a battle. She was a trained fighter. He instinctively defended himself, despite the fact that it wasn’t actually part of his character’s background to be able to fight the way that he did. “Who ARE you, really?” she wondered.

“Just someone who wants to live long enough to be rich and powerful,” he said.

“I can probably help you with that.” And just like that, she began introducing him to people and saying that in his lab, she could tell he was smart and that he could probably do jobs that they needed a scientist of questionable moral fiber to handle. He… handled a few things. It was troubling, but he had to weigh out sacrifices. The more that he did, the less he wanted to think about Charlotte. He didn’t want her to be a part of this world he had gotten involved in. He even withdrew from Henry. 

Whenever it was time for Henry and Jasper to go to home for Thanksgiving, Jasper asked if there was anything that he wanted them to bring Charlotte and all he could think was his apologies. Instead, he said, “Hopefully, I’ll see her at Christmas.” he couldn’t think about her too much. That could make it all so hard for him. He and Henry had inadvertently received a bigger assignment than planned whenever they got to their station and while Henry was mostly doing his best at being the residential superhero, while Max only sometimes could act, if Henry was going to be gone, Max would have to be responsible for hero tasks AND be undercover. That was the most difficult placement he had ever had and he couldn’t dare allow himself any distractions. Not right now. She would understand. And if she couldn’t, he would eventually make it up to her.

Charlotte was at Henry’s parents’ house whenever he and Jasper arrived and they joyously screamed whenever they saw each other, hugging and hopping and all talking at once. Henry glanced around, “Where are my parents?”

“We literally haven’t seen either of them all week,” Charlotte said, shaking her head.

Jasper wondered, “Were you able to get everything that I messaged you for the feast?”

“Yeah. Who do you think you’re talking to?” She asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Umm, only the youngest crisis management specialist in the state…” She fought off a smile and he shook his head and excitedly yelled, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW JOB!!!”

She smiled bashfully and shook her head, “I’m in a probationary period, and only even working with police forces of Swellview, Neighborville, Bordertown and Hiddenville… I’m gunning for that Metroburg spot, but it has literally NEVER gone to a non-supe and I need to build my resume and finish my next degree.”

The boys dropped their things in the living room and the mood got a little tense for a moment as Henry and Jasper glanced at each other, silently deciding who would say something about it. She stopped smiling for a while and just said, “Maybe, I’ll be able to see him at Christmas!” She tried to pretend that she was fine, but secretly stalking his alias on social media and seeing how he seemed to be spending his holidays with Zenovia was heartbreaking.

This wasn’t like when Jack was surrounded by fans and given numerous declarations of love from his fan base. It should have been similar, but this woman was always tagging Borya and they seemed very close. She knew that it was business, but it was also undercover and she wasn’t basic. She knew that… whatever the reasons, there was something else there that, while it probably was only business for him… it bothered her.

Henry tried to distract her from her sorrows and Jasper stole her phone and hid it to keep the obvious obsessing to a minimum.

Once the guys were full of food, wine and beer, she was still functional. Sometimes, you gotta push through that itis, and that was definitely what she was used to. Henry had fallen asleep on the couch. Jasper was sitting on the floor near him, with his head leaned back, mouth wide open, and she noted that Henry’s phone was on the table.

Before the move, Henry’s phone might as well had been her second phone. She knew all of his passwords and everything. So, she figured that since she couldn’t access Max through her own, Henry’s should be as easy for her.

It wasn’t a holiday in Russia, so she figured that he was probably just chilling, if not working and if he was working, Henry’s phone would be the best out, anyway. She opened Richie’s social media and saw Borya hearted a lot of things in the notifications. She checked and saw that they were mostly photos with her in them. She wasn’t tagged and the photos were set to private, so Henry must’ve allotted for Max to see them. Then, she went to check Max’s page - which was usually private and only had a few public posts that she could stalk, but since Richie and Borya were friends, she could see more and she hated to see it.

The woman, Zenovia was all over Max in public settings, their faces were really close in several photos, and if Charlotte’s translations were correct, she called him by affectionate names in comments on things. The ONLY thing that was a little bit of reprieve was the fact that Max had not posted anything about her. She sort of just barged into his space by tagging him to things and commenting. But… Still… Charlotte opened Henry’s texts and found his exchanges with Max.

“You shouldn’t do this, Girl. You already know what it is and it’s business and that’s it and he has responsibilities and…” She closed the app. She couldn’t violate his privacy or Henry’s that way. She set it down and wondered if this was going to aggravate her for the rest of her life. Probably. But, she wasn’t going to spy on Max. Lurking his social media because she missed him was one thing. Invading the privacy of his relationship with Henry was on another level and she felt like she had more morals than that.

Instead, she picked up the phone again and texted, “Dude, if you possibly can, I think you need to try to reach out to Charlotte.” She watched as Max typed, stopped and resumed, and finally, eventually the reply came.

“I find it incredible that you would be so reckless as to mention her name in a text. What if Zenovia had this phone? What if she was right next to me? What if one of the others were. I’m extremely disappointed by this and you need to promptly delete it.”

She replied. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. This is Charlotte. Henry fell to sleep…” Her heart was pounding in her throat and her hands were all sweaty and she couldn’t remember the last time that something made her this nervous. Then, the phone began to vibrate in her hand and the name Borya the Beast flashed with a photo of Max. She took a deep breath and answered, “Hello?”

Max felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Recalling her voice and hearing her voice were very different things and it had been months. “Hello.” His chest was on fire and he had never wanted to rush to somebody more than he did right now. “So, you’re… playing on people’s phones?”

“I was… Just lonely. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about… I didn’t think. Are you pretty mad?”

“I was mad when I thought it was him,” he said, with a chuckle, then to someone in the background, he said something in Russian like ‘Taking this outside’ or ‘Going outside for a moment,’ or something like that. She only got the word for “outside.” It wasn’t terribly noisy on her end, but she could bet that it was more difficult for him to hear on that end. Plus, he probably needed privacy to chew her out for this little stunt. When it was quiet on his end, his voice was clearer and she could hear gentleness in it, “So… Please don’t do that, ever again, okay?” She nodded, blinking out her tears. “Char? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, I won’t. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know what came over you. We haven’t been able to talk or see each other in four months and believe me, I KNOW how hard it is. It’s torture for me, and I think you care just as much about me as I do about you, so I think it’s as hard for you…”

“No… I mean, yes, but also… You’re big on family and spending time with them and now it’s the holidays and your folks are all celebrating in Hiddenville, but you’re thousands of miles from home, surrounded by people who aren’t even your friends, and on top of that, I miss you. I miss you, but I worry, too. About the danger and the enemies, and the double life… that… woman…”

He was being emotionally stirred up, up until “that woman.” Then, he asked, “What woman?”

“You know, the one that keeps tagging you to photos of you and her all over each other and practically sexting with you in the comments sections of said photos. Zenovia.”

He shut his eyes tightly and whispered, “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“I know that. But, still… It’s hard to watch..”

“You aren’t supposed to be watching. You’re supposed to be keeping a safe distance, physically and electronically. Charlotte… She is a very dangerous person. I don’t ever want you to leave a trail to yourself that she could find. She’s evil and ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. She’s also got a soft spot for me and being close to her makes it easier for me to get closer to Russian overlords. Had I not utilized that attachment, it might have taken twice as long, maybe even longer to get where I am. Just… don’t watch for this stuff. I can’t break character, and I can’t get distracted…” She sniffled and he sighed. He hated making her cry. He knew that there was no way around it, with this subject matter, but he still hated it. “I love you,” he said, softly.

“I love you, too,” she said. It was the quickest she had ever replied it and he had to remind himself that millions of lives could be affected if he failed. Because he just wanted to jump in the jet and hold her and kiss her and look her in the eyes and promise her that everything he did was to make sure that he did his job and lived to return to her.

“Hey, whenever this is over, maybe you should just marry me and become part of my cover,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Yeah. I should,” she said. He couldn’t tell what he was hearing in her voice, but he hadn’t expected her to say that. She hadn’t laughed, so he didn’t know if she took it as a joke, and she didn’t inflect her voice, so he wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or trying to contain some anger. “I should’ve come with you. It’s not like I couldn’t work from there. I chose my career.”

“Well… it’s going good, though! I’ve seen the reports done on you in your local news outlets. You’re right out of college and already securing the bag. That’s amazing, Charlotte. I wouldn’t have asked you to trade that in for me.”

“You’re saving a multitude of lives,” she reminded him.

“While losing the love of mine…” he said so softly she might not have heard him if he weren’t in complete silence.

“You’re not,” she said. She took a deep breath and assured him, “I can handle it. I knew well enough what I signed up for. You know… When military personnel is deployed, sometimes there’s absolutely NO WORD from them for months and only snippets of visits. And their purpose is questionable. You’re a true hero and… I can do this. I have to. Or what? I get to feel the way that I felt tonight for even longer, while I try to get over you, or worst case scenario, for the rest of my life, because I never can? The options outside of sucking it up and being patient until we can be together again all seem miserable.” She sniffled, “Is there any way that you can arrange for me to come to see you?”

He sighed a sigh of relief. The moment Zenovia was mentioned, he was certain that a breakup was soon to follow. Charlotte reaffirming that she believed in him and in them was something he didn’t realize that he needed so much to get him through all of this. “I’ll think of something.”

[randomguywithwords]

Thanks For The Assist: Chapter 2 (Itsuka X Neito Story)

AO3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1

Chapter 2: Acceptance

––––––––

“How was the test?” Father asked as the three of them sat at the dinner table eating. 

“Ok, I think I did fine,” Monoma said as he picked up a slice of meat.

“How were you graded?” Mother said. 

“Fought some robots. You get points the more you destroy. The harder the robot, the more points you get. The field was massive, pretty much a life-size city, and I think they had at least 3.” Monoma explained with patience, though he suspected this expositioning was boring the other audience with information they already knew. 

Mother hummed her assent. “I’m not surprised. U.A has a ton of money. More money than they need, really…” She ended her statement in a mutter. It sounded like constrained resentment to Neito. It probably was, but understandable. 

“Isn’t the ministry diverting more money towards your school, dear?” Father said. 

“Yes, I suppose. After years of appeals by the school committee. Hopefully I can obtain better equipment to teach those kids.” Mrs Monoma sighed, looking back towards Neito. “But I hope you get in, Neito. I have to admit, it’s really once-in-a-lifetime, and U.A will make you a fine hero.”

“Thanks, mother.” Neito smiled. A fine hero. The phrase did not apply to him, not in the societal nor linguistic sense of the word. A hero relied on himself to get the job done, at the end of the day. With what he had, that was an impossibility. 

“None of the other kids gave you trouble, did they?” Father asked, and Monoma winced on the inside, thinking about the events transpiring just after the test. 

“No, they were nice people,” He said. It was no lie, by technicalities. There was that girl, after all. Kendo, was it? She was nice. 

Father seemed to perk up at his answer, gladdened. “That’s good,” He gave an approving nod. “I’m glad they weren’t like your schoolmates.”

Neito waved his hand like an aristocrat at a banquet. “Nah, I think maybe those guys were just ––” He struggled for the proper word. “Lame.” He ended, and grinned internally at the apt description of his dialogue. But that smile died in the next instant when he thought about what he had wanted to say. 

Flat characters. A character with one dimension, owning a singular character trait to serve a purpose in a story. That’s what he called them, but not Mother. 

“About time kids your age learned some maturity,” She said, her ‘teacher’ side emerging. “Not you, Neito – of course. You’re a sensible boy. Apart from your silly theatrics, but you’ll grow out of it.”

There it is, He sighed, on the inside – or, aside. That was how the plays would state inner actions on the script. But Mother doesn’t like plays, does she now? 

“Neito, tell us about the fighting,” Father interjected with a smile that was a bit too wide, “What quirks did you use?” 

Neito gave a response, but his heart was no longer in the conversation, having been chilled by Mother’s own lovely warmth that she had no idea she was radiating. 

–––––

The letter came a week later when his parents were at work. Neito opened it up in his room. After all, where else would he? Only in his room could he find solace. And on his bed, comfort, so he plopped himself down and opened the envelope. 

The contents contained a disc. A holographic. Taking it out and laying it on his bed, he pressed the blue button in the centre, producing a video on the wall.

It was the scene of an office, with a mouse sitting on a chair and a cup of tea on the glass table. He recognised the principal of U.A himself.

“Neito Monoma! Very good afternoon, or morning, or night, to you – depending when you see this, of course. On the off chance you are unaware of me, I am Nezu, principal of U.A High. This video is approximately 5 minutes long, but I will save you the suspense. You got in. Congratulations.”

His heart soared, and he pumped a fist in the air, breathing a sigh in much-desired catharsis. Had he been holding that in since the beginning? 

“You are, both celebrating – I would hope, and also wondering what the remaining 4 and a half minutes are about. Please do not ignore the rest of this video, because I want to review two things: your performance at the entrance exam, and your quirk. Take a look at this.” 

The video showed clips of Monoma from a birds’ eye view, running around and using his borrowed quirks, as well as him tapping random strangers. He noted how a lot of them turned their heads in evident surprise and puzzlement at him patting them on the shoulder or arm. And then the clip played of him taking a couple of points away from those guys. 

Nezu clucked his tongue. “Many in society would deem that as ‘un-hero-like’ behaviour, as it can be interpreted as stealing, or taking what does not belong to you. Criminal acts indeed, if the deed is severe and the stolen thing valuable. But, your quirk acts on that very principle of taking what does not belong to you.”

The (overwhelmingly intelligent, Monoma realised) mouse continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of reviewing your application and academics. You boast admirable grades in your middle school, and your form teacher commented that you were a highly observant, smart and mature student. I could go on, but you know what you’ve submitted. I will continue with that presumed knowledge.”

“You must have realised by now, or very early on in your career as a hero aspirant, that your quirk is unorthodox, having no use on its own. You require allies, or foes who you can lay a finger on, to fight. And even then, you must hastily adapt to whatever quirk you have under your control, for a period of time. Lots of limitations, Mr Monoma. A lot of challenges you have faced, are facing, and will face. And when you are initiated into my school, expect more.” Nezu took a sip of his tea.

“That’s not to say you will face difficulties many would describe as ‘hell’ at U.A. And neither does my previous statement imply U.A is not ‘hell’.” He paused. “Do excuse my roundabout mannerisms of speech. It is a bad habit of mine.” Nezu chuckled.

“Simply put, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr Monoma, for your cunning, your intellect, and your quirk. Report to me after your first day of school. We will talk more then. Congratulations once more. Another letter will arrive tomorrow to inform you of the minutiae regarding your inception into U.A. Good day, Neito Monoma.”

The holographic faded out, and Neito was staring at a blank wall for a few seconds trying to process whatever Nezu had said.  

A buzz from his phone pulled him out of his hazy thoughts. He is...really smart. 

It was from Kendo. “Hi, Monoma, It’s Kendo! The girl with big hands. Wanted to ask you whether you received the letter from U.A.” 

He typed a response. “Yeah, I got a letter. What’s your verdict?” 

Fingers crossed. 

She responded, “I got in. >< You?” 

A smile spread across his face. “Same, that’s awesome. Congratulations.”

“YAY! :D We both did it! Congrats too! And I was so shocked that All Might was in the video! I nearly cried. Or maybe I did, idk. Sorry, I’m babbling at this point, but I don’t have anyone else to tell this to until my parents get home and I’m so hypeddd”

Huh? All Might? So Nezu specifically…

He typed, “It’s ok, I’m excited too. Though I don’t express it over text that much.” 

“Haha it’s ok. Can’t wait for the letter tomorrow. There’s so much to do! Hero costume, uniforms, books, all that. And term starts a month from now. Can’t wait!” 

“Wow, how’d you know all this?”

“Mainly from the internet. I was that hyped, y’know?”

He cracked another smile from her enthusiasm. It was oddly contagious, and he found himself more zealous to go to school. That was a statement he’d never think he could formulate in his mind. “I see. That’s cool.”

“Btw, if you wanna go celebrate with your family or friends, go ahead! I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“Nah, my parents are at work and I’m basically alone at home. Same boat as you. So, fire away.”

“Ah, ok!” 

The conversation continued with Kendo gushing about their new life, and Monoma passively followed along, inserting a few comments here and there. But he didn’t feel like he was stuck at a family reunion forced to endure his grandfather’s stories with a placating smile and affirming nods peppered in occasionally. She was actually interesting, and amusing, in a good way. 

The topic was centered around school and academics, with little butting into personal lives, and Monoma didn’t pry. She was still a stranger, somewhat, albeit she would be his new schoolmate – and perhaps classmate. He crossed his fingers again, hoping that Fate would tap him lightly on the head once more with her providence. 

He smiled when Kendo typed, “Hope we become classmates :D. Apparently there are always 2 first-year classes. So it’s basically a coin flip.”

“Heads.” 

“Rly? Do you always choose heads?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m more of a switcher.”

“How do you decide when to choose heads or tails then?”

“Coin flip.”

“That made me laugh, thank you.”

“Why do you need to thank people for making you laugh? It’s a spontaneous thing.”

“That’s...oddly profound.”

“Or just a dumb statement made to sound fancy. Ah, sorry, I have to go now. But thank you for your time. It was great chatting :)” 

“Why do you need to thank people for chatting with you? It’s a spontaneous thing. Joking aside, thank you too.”

“Nice haha” Was her last message. Neito turned his phone off and lied down on his bed. A moment passed, and Neito took a coin from his study desk. It was a silly thing to do, but his room was his stage. He was performing for himself. 

He gave it a toss and caught it. 

Seeing the result, he grinned.

–––––––

Yeek, this took longer than it should have, sorry. Had a bit of writer’s block when it came to planning this thing and I wasn’t sure how to move on. Also the tone of this is especially terrifying for me because it’s definitely going to be (ironically) more light-hearted, with Monoma’s dramatic language and (side thoughts) occasionally inserted, but that brings the challenge of need. When to do that, when not to. This story is a personal challenge to change my narrative style just slightly. 

Anyway, I hoped you MonoKendo ppl liked it. A lot of people have told me it’s unfortunate the ship lacks content and I couldn’t agree more. But then again, that’s about 75% of the ships out there. (Fk it, 90%). So, here’s my contribution, alongside some other one-shots. 

Feedback’s appreciated :D

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Vlog #16 - Would You Rather

Moyo began the vlog in English, because he was better at it than anyone else in the group.

“What’s up, guys? Welcome back to another thrilling vlog from your favorite Broerrs.” The rest could be in Flemish.

Robbe, Jens, and Aaron burst into cheers in the background. Robbe winked at the camera, but not really, since Sander was the one trying to steady the tripod in front of the group. Something on its left side had broken last time they used it. Sander winked back.

“We’ve been reading your comments,” continued Moyo.

Jens made a face of disgust. “Honestly, sometimes I regret it.”

“We regret it a lot. Sometimes.”

Robbe knew exactly the comment they were referencing. Someone with a long, unpronounceable username decided that they wanted to be with Jens… biblically, if you will. Minus the religion. He felt scandalized to have read it. In the description of this new video, he’d include a politely worded plea to never type and send anything like that ever again.

“But we’re listening to the people, and you have spoken. We picked the next challenge. It’s time for WOULD—”

“—YOU—" said Robbe.

Jens finished the title. “—RATHER!”

Aaron sulked on the end of the couch. “What am I supposed to say?”

At this point, Moyo and Robbe would edit in a cut, some music, and a tiny little animated title to introduce the game. Sander already had a few ideas he told them he’d be willing to draw if they wanted. The cuts were the best part.

“Alright. We actually have a special guest with us today. Here, I’ll take the camera…”

Sander and Moyo traded places. Now Moyo sat behind the tripod to keep everything stable. Sander sat down in Moyo’s spot in the center of the couch. He looked even more like himself than usual—the Bowie shirt Noor bought him for Christmas, black jeans cuffed at the bottom, Docs, and a leather jacket to tie the ensemble together. Definitely more punk rock than anyone else in the frame. At Jens’s suggestion, he’d gotten his left ear pierced a week ago. The proper time had yet to elapse before he could change posts, so the same black stud with which the parlor pierced it remained in his ear.

Besides the factual part of his appearance, he made Robbe feel like his heart had jumped from a hundredth-floor window and began the freefall of a lifetime.

“This fine specimen…” Jens gestured to Sander with a dramatic flourish. He twirled a finger around a strand of Sander’s bleached hair. “… happens to be the boyfriend of our very own Robbe Ijzermans. He’ll be an honorary Broerrr, for this vlog.”

“Only this vlog?” asked Aaron.

“We’ll see how it goes.”

Sander waved at Moyo. “I’m Sander. I’m—”

The boys talked over each other, finishing the sentence for him.

“—blond.”

“—TAKEN.”

“—sexually active.”

“—a much beloved children’s movie character.”

“Oh, oh! I’ve got it. A distant relative of Queen Elizabeth.”

The edits with this portion of the video would be hilarious for sure.

“—an art student in university and Robbe’s boyfriend,” said Sander. “I’m honored to be here with the Broerrs today.”

It had been Moyo’s suggestion to add Sander to the vlogs. He’d approached Robbe after class and tried to bring up the subject naturally, citing something about how Sander hung out with them all the time anyway, and it would make sense to include him. Robbe knew it was another peace offering. Ever since he called Sander gross for liking both boys and girls, he’d been trying to make up for it over and over again.

The truth was, Robbe forgave him at the slightest sign of repentance. He wasn’t one to hold grudges. It did feel good, though, to know that Moyo truly regretted his past actions and made a conscious effort to avoid similar ones.

“We asked you guys to send us your burning would-you-rather questions, and you did not disappoint.” Jens shook a hat in front of the camera. “An impartial third party—”

“Jana!” yelled Aaron.

“—picked out the best ones and put them in this hat. Each of us is going to pick one out to read, and then everyone has to answer it. You’re not allowed to not answer. And yes, you have to explain your reasons.

“I’m going first. Question one.” Jens cleared his throat to begin. “Would you rather your shower always be freezing cold, or always be the perfect temperature with bad water pressure?” He barely needed any time to think. “Cold shower. It’s good for your skin.” He turned to the others around him. “What say you?”

Sander took Robbe’s hand and set it down on his knee, for no apparent reason, and it made Robbe blush. “I would say we’re the warm shower type.” He was right. Robbe took a cold shower approximately one time in his entire life, and it was when he had to wash the blood from his clothing after— no thanks. He liked the temperature scalding.

“Warm is the way,” Aaron agreed. “Water pressure makes no difference.”

“Disagree.” Even off-camera, Moyo needed his opinion heard. He balanced the tripod as best he could and ran to sit on the arm of the couch, his shoulder brushing with Robbe’s. “I’m with Jens. Cold water tightens your skin or something. Young skin. Fuck yeah.”

Sander laughed. Robbe would never get tired of hearing that laugh. “I’d rather be warm than have young skin. Comfort above appearance.”

This reply made Jens scoff. “You can afford to say that, because you’re beautiful.”

Another cut there, probably. Sander could animate a little picture of a shower or something. Damn, it was really going to pay off to have a boyfriend capable of high-level art techniques.

He decided he liked seeing Sander and the boys together like this. Two worlds he’d suffered to keep separate, now colliding. Instead of the death of the universe, though, all that happened as a result was good-natured banter. They looked comfortable with each other, no tension or withdrawal whatsoever.

Aaron drew from the hat next. “Would you rather speak every language but not understand them spoken to you, or understand every language spoken to you but not be able to speak them? Did I say that right?”

“Yeah,” said Jens. “It’s just badly worded.”

No one had a fast answer to this question. In the final edit, they’d need to cut out a good chunk of footage, because everyone argued over each other in a fashion so violent it couldn’t be understood. At one point, while trying to make the point that speaking and understanding could only exist in tandem and therefore the question was irrelevant, Jens noticed he was wearing the same earring as Sander. They halted the disagreement to talk about it. Two minutes of unusable content.

Robbe answered first. “Understand. I think it’d be cool to know if people were talking shit about me in the grocery store.”

“Speak,” said Moyo. “Because chicks think it’s hot.”

Jens went for logic over desire. “Understand, so I could go abroad and not look like an idiot when people talk to me.”

Aaron, clearly at a loss, just nodded. “Yeah, I think whatever Jens thinks.”

Sander took the question deeper than the others, which made Robbe proud and concerned at the same time. “Speak, because it doesn’t say that I wouldn’t be able to understand written messages. As long as I can speak it, it means that I can translate it in my head, which means I can ask people to write things down for me.” He thought for another second before continuing, “It wouldn’t work the same way with understanding, because you wouldn’t necessarily master the pronunciation just because you can listen to what other people are saying.”

A comprehensive answer. Aaron stared in awe. “Robbe, you’re dating a genius.”

“Yeah.” Robbe squeezed Sander’s hand in between them. He could feel his heart melting inside his chest. “Clearly I’m not smart enough for this linguistic master.”

“Je t’aime encore,” Sander whispered, quirking his eyebrow. He planted a kiss on Robbe’s lips.

This inspired Moyo to lean sideways and fall off the arm of the couch so that he landed across Robbe and Sander, his head in Sander’s lap. “Aw, ce qu'est un bon petit ami!” He broke into the largest smile Robbe had ever seen and gave Sander a fist bump. “I didn’t know you knew French!”

“Oh, well… yes.”

“We’re French buds now. Everyone else can go home. When we want to communicate in secret, we’re going to do it in French.”

“Gladly.”

“I’ve been telling the others to learn French and they haven’t listened—” 

Robbe didn’t fancy the idea of Sander hiding anything else from him via secret messages in other languages. Besides, this footage probably wasn’t any good for final production. “Okay, guys, shut up. My turn.” 

Moyo didn’t bother to mix the slips in the hat before passing it to Robbe. He picked the one on top. “Would you rather have no one attend your wedding, or no one attend your funeral?” There was an obvious answer to this question. Jana shouldn’t have picked this out of all the submissions they received, especially since Robbe swore he saw one about having oatmeal poured up your nose. “Funeral. It’s not my problem if I’m dead.”

Jens looked this way and that. “We’re probably all in agreement.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Actually,” said Sander, “I’d say wedding.”

Leave it to Sander to pick the unpopular answer. Robbe imagined the animation they’d put beside Sander’s head; a thumbs-down would convey the emotion pretty well. “Give your reasons, then.”

“No one showing up for your funeral means that no one cares that you’re dead.” He squeezed Robbe’s hand again. “I want people to miss me.”

“You’re a better person than all of us, then.”

 Moyo’s turn came next. He had yet to move from his position across Sander and Robbe. Robbe took this as the ultimate gesture of ‘I’m okay with your sexuality and your boyfriend, and I’m still comfortable with you.’ It made him happy enough to ignore the fact that his leg was in an awkward position and now he couldn’t fix it.

“Would you rather throw up every time you saw a bird, or burp after every kiss?” Moyo took a second to consider. “Well first of all…” He reached out to tilt the camera downwards, centering himself in the frame. It ruined everything Sander had done to keep the tripod level. “…birds aren’t real. They’re drones from the government to spy on people and, in the case of rebellion, kill them. From America.”

Jens nodded enthusiastically at this idea. “So before we answer it, does this question refer to government drone birds, or only the mythical real birds?”

“All birds,” said Sander. “Real or fake.”

“And are we counting flightless birds as birds?”

“Why would we not?”

Moyo stroked his chin in contemplation. “All birds... then the kiss one.”

“You don’t get kissed enough for that to be a problem,” Aaron reassured him. This earned a punch in the chest.

Sander and Robbe shared a look. “Throw up when I see a bird,” said Sander, confidently. “We make out too much for the other one.” When he met Robbe’s eyes, Robbe felt his vision tunnel until nothing but Sander remained in his sight line. He was too fucking in love for his own good. “Imagine if every time we kissed I had to stop and burp!”

“Nasty.”

They went around the group again, each choosing a question and answering it. The highlights were pretty obvious, even as they filmed it. All the earlier questions were gold compared to the later ones. Robbe wasn’t there to see Jana weed through the options, so he didn’t necessarily know that she had. For all he knew, she’d just picked the first thirty comments and threw them in the hat.

He passed the time by analyzing the way Sander reacted to different statements. He expected his boyfriend to be shy, or awkward, or even just a little guarded. Instead, Sander was an open book. He laughed with his full chest, made faces when the boys said things he didn’t like, went so far as to slap Jens on the shoulder when Jens mentioned prioritizing breakfast over his attendance. Like a member of the squad. 

Yes, these were two worlds. But what if they could be mixed into one? 

“Okay, Last question, last question.” Moyo held the hat out in front of Sander. “Sander’s going to read this one, so it better be good.” He shook the hat a couple times to mix things around, even though there was only one slip of paper left. Sander reached inside and grabbed the remainder.

He read it. “Would you rather not have sex with a goat but have everyone believe you did, or have sex with a goat but no one will ever find out?” He paused, mumbled through the words over again, and looked into the camera. “What kind of crack do you guys smoke?”

“Pick one,” Moyo ordered.

Jens leaned in close, so his face took up the entire lens. “This is how we determine if he’s worthy of our Robbe. What he answers right here.” He sat back in his chair. “There’s a correct answer, Sander, so choose carefully.”

Robbe imagined the final YouTube version would include an edited still of himself and Sander with a question mark dangling in between them. Some fire emojis, perhaps.

“How can there be a right answer?”

In lieu of a sophisticated reply, the other boys began to chant, “Choose, choose, choose choose.”

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands to signal for a grand pause. “I’d rather not fuck the goat.”

The group dissolved into a chorus of laughter. Robbe was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to see whatever graphic Moyo selected in the final for this part. Actually, it might just be a goat emoji. He still wouldn’t want to see it in the context of this conversation.

“So you want everyone to think you fucked the goat?” Jens used his newscaster voice and offered an invisible microphone to Sander, who pushed his hand away.

“Well no, but if it’s that or actually fuck the goat—”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “I’d fuck the goat.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. It’d be a one-time thing. If I didn’t fuck the goat, I’d never be able to live down fucking the goat. So y’know, lose-lose.”

“No, but if you fuck the goat then you’ve fucked a goat.”

“It’s a no from me.” Jens held up his hands in surrender. “Let people think what they want.”

Moyo tilted his head back a little more so he could make eye contact with Jens. “Yeah, no from me too.” Robbe noticed that Moyo’s head must be digging into Sander’s thigh, but Sander seemed unbothered.

“Either way, you get the consequences of having fucked the goat.” Aaron tried to justify his previous statement. “It’s a matter of physical versus social. I think I can deal with the physical, but I know my image can’t handle the social.”

Sander blinked incredulously. “ You’d prefer bestiality over a rumor? What the fuck...”

“Please stop talking about fucking goats,” Robbe interjected. “I’m getting mental images.”

Sander tilted his head until it rested on Robbe’s shoulder. He looked up at his boyfriend with a tiny mischievous smile. “Do they turn you on?”

At this point, Jens decided that the vlog needed to be over. He hopped up from the couch and announced, “Well, this has been a great time. Don’t forget to like and subscribe to this channel to see more of us losers and—”

Robbe cut him off. “The only loser today is Amber, who may have just found out her boyfriend would fuck a goat.”

“Not in just any circumstance—” Aaron protested, but Moyo spoke louder than him.

“Peace out, dudes.”

He clicked the camera off. 

[neshabeingchildish]

Share Those Secrets

@chenoahchantel @adorkable-blackgirl @kiddangers @famousflowermagazine

Share - a - Lair 18

Charlotte managed to get Piper to drive to the airport with her. Jasper was leaving too, as she suspected, so she would be sending all three of her guys off and she was in no condition to be able to drive away. She knew beforehand. By the time it happened, it was much worse. She hugged Henry and Jasper, tried not to cry on either of them. They held hand and headed for boarding. She clung to Max, trying not to cry, and also trying to let go of him, because it had to be done. She forced herself to smile and moved to kiss him. His tears wet her face and she lost it. “Why are you crying right now?” She asked. “We were supposed to tough it out!” Now, she was crying too.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m soft!” He said, squeezing her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go. 

It was hard to watch for Henry and Jasper, so while Jasper teared up a little and begged Charlotte to just get on the next plane and come too, Henry pulled him away and awkwardly said, “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving…” 

Charlotte wiped her face on Max’s shirt and he made a disgusted expression, “That was snot!”

“It’s payback. You were supposed to hold it together!”

“You KNEW that I wouldn’t!” He cupped her face and kissed her as the announcement sounded that he needed to board the plane. She pushed him, urging him to go, before she begged him not to. And whenever he left, she hugged herself and bit her lip. 

“I really don’t get it,” Piper said.

“What? Why I didn’t go with them?”

“No. Why on Earth did they use a commercial flight whenever the Hero League supplies them with a ding dang private jet?” It was because they were going to be under their secret identities and couldn’t be seen near the jet just yet, but Charlotte didn’t feel like explaining. She was super sad. 

Piper wrapped an arm around her back and said, “Come on. Let’s get you back to your dope ass house.”

Piper was around for a few hours before she had to head out. Charlotte hadn’t known how to tell her that she really didn’t want her there, anyway. She just wanted to be able to settle in by herself, since she would have to get used to being there by herself. She had no idea how much. 

After only a couple of weeks, she lost contact with Max. Jasper had texted only to say, “Max scored an in into a target and was given the order to go all in.” She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Max’s number was disconnected and the only social media that he had left was for his alias, Borya Kozlov. And it had been altered significantly by the Hero League’s tech teams to look like it was many years older and even had doctored photographs that Charlotte had to presume were manufactured by a superpower, and not just some image designer. She had to get things translated, because she didn’t know a lot of Russian and Max wouldn’t let her try out his new and improved Instant Language Learner, because he had a rule about not allowing her to test out things that he wasn’t 100% certain of success. He had gone through a lot of mistakes in his youth and wasn’t going to let her become a target of any of the same type. So, she had been trying to learn Russian on her own. 

Initially, she and Jasper had begun together, but he was a lot better at picking up languages, as a grammar nerd and a linguistics hoe. Charlotte understood and even memorized the rules and conditions, but actually executing the words, she was unable, so she’d stop trying to learn and didn’t think about the fact that she would probably have to READ it - that she tried to pick back up on, after she found the Kozlov pages, but she still needed a translator. 

It became her thing. A month passed and Henry’s birthday and Thanksgiving were on the horizon. She was relieved and excited, because those were times that they could see see other and Jasper thrived at doing big birthday things for Henry, while Henry thrived on making a bomb ass Thanksgiving. The previous year was their first after meeting Max and he was still sort of a private person and a jerk to them, so they had a minimalist celebration in the tower and made their rounds through Swellview, collecting plates of food and Henry’s presents. She was looking forward to this year being the first in her new home - her and Max’s home… but a couple of weeks before, she heard a sound that she had only heard in the background before and hadn’t heard in a while…

“Incoming Call from President Kickbutt…” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for a moment, wondering why on Earth she would be receiving such a call, because she didn’t work for Kickbutt and Max was out on assignment… She rushed to the monitor and saw a woman with strong features and an interesting hairdo on the screen. “Good afternoon, Miss Page. I take it you know who I am.”

“Yes, Madame President. Of course. What do I owe this honor?” 

Kickbutt raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what she expected, but she welcomed it. She looked slightly amused, but mostly unphased. “I’m afraid it won’t be news that you’ll be able to fully appreciate at the moment, but it is imperative.”

“Is Max okay? Is Henry alright?” Charlotte asked, panicking.

“Max is doing a stellar job. This is the most impressed with his work that I have ever been. You should know that he is very deep undercover, and now has ties to at least 12 high profile Russian supervillains, terrorists, and mobsters. At least one of them is suspected of being a spy, so he is unable to do ANYTHING that could possibly draw attention to something outside of his fabricated identity.”

“Including any contact with me.”

“Especially any contact with you. It’s the people closest to us that bring out our most vulnerabilities. I’m afraid that until we have solid evidence and have made every possible arrest that we are unable to risk him venturing outside of the parameters of this mission.”

“He’s… not just heroing? He’s on a high profile case???”

“It was not our intention, but it’s the way that things have happened. Whenever he caught the attention of an assassin who took an immediate liking to him, he leaned into it and now, we’re here. This unfortunately means that any visitation plans must be altered. As of right now, Henry is only acknowledged as a financial connection for him, so he is not watched as much and will be allowed to come to visit you for Thanksgiving. Your little friend Jasper insisted that the world would end if I wasn’t able to accommodate this. But. There is no way that we can risk Max coming outside of the boundaries of his assignment, currently. Millions of lives could be at stake if we lose just one of the 12 persons of interest.”

“Max is isolated and surrounded by terrorists and mobsters…”

Kickbutt shrugged, “He’s moving up in ranks, so he should be fine. And he’s one of the smartest young men to have ever worked for me. I assure you, as long as his cover isn’t blown, he will not be in any danger.”

“Are you able to communicate with him, at all? Does he… have someone near him?” Charlotte asked, twiddling with her shapeshifting necklace, anxiously. 

“He has a handler. My very own daughter. And, he still has Henry, Miss Page.” Charlotte nodded her head and within moments, the call was over. He still had Henry. That helped her to be able to make it through the day… Not so much to sleep at night.

.

Henry was Ricardo Richfield and everybody called him Richie Rich. Jasper was his “simple plaything” or “trophy husband” to everybody. His alias was Douglas Ritchfield and according to the paper trail created for their safety, he and Ricardo had been married for three years. The mansion that they were moved into was big enough that it was extremely unlikely that anyone would come across the underground lair, and Max’s lab was one of those where someone could definitely find it and see into parts of it, but they couldn’t access it. 

So, the first weekend that they were in Russia, they threw a huge party to celebrate Richie coming to Russia. The story was that he had done some things in the Americas and was hiding out here to avoid “justice.” He was supposed to be laying low and staying out of trouble, but the personality of his character was to absolutely not do that. He was a spoiled little rich kid playing gangster games and that would mean that he might attract those who may wish to do business with him. 

Borya was a Russian scientist who he would make rich by funding his experiments. Max came up with these aliases for them, avoiding the typical “lay low and be mild mannered” and reaching more for, “Get into the thick of the crime world and bust it up from the inside out.” Henry and Jasper didn’t have many talents that could be impressed upon the criminal element, so Max settled for the “useless rich kid and even more useless lover” angle. That way, he could also express anytime they frustrated him, in Russian and they wouldn’t know, but the people around them would and it would probably be funny.

Max had a little bit of familiarity with Russian, because some of his favorite scientists were Russian and he’d watched several recordings of them, so he recognized a lot of words and also had their accent pretty well down pat. (Same for German, and Japanese, but that’s another point altogether). Max adjusted well to Russia.

As soon as they were away from Charlotte, he focused on some mental exercises to try to compartmentalize her away. The thing of it was that in trying to do that, he wound up just thinking about her more. She became his meditation center. 

He would wake up everyday, brush teeth, wash up, burn one of her favorite candles and hope that she knew he was thinking of her as he tried to clear his mind and empty himself out for another day of work. Another day of pretending. 

It didn’t take long for him to get his foot in the door of something very heavy. It was at the party that he met Zenovia. She was looking into his lab when he approached and directed her back towards the party.

“What are you making in there? Looks illegal,” she teased. He frowned, gripped her arm and forced her down the hallway, only to be met with a battle. She was a trained fighter. He instinctively defended himself, despite the fact that it wasn’t actually part of his character’s background to be able to fight the way that he did. “Who ARE you, really?” she wondered. 

“Just someone who wants to live long enough to be rich and powerful,” he said. 

“I can probably help you with that.” And just like that, she began introducing him to people and saying that in his lab, he could tell he was smart and that he could probably do jobs that they needed a scientist of questionable moral fiber to handle. He… handled a few things. It was troubling, but he had to weigh out sacrifices. The more that he did, the less he wanted to think about Charlotte. He didn’t want her to be a part of this world he had gotten involved in. He even withdrew from Henry. Whenever it was time for Henry and Jasper to go to home for Thanksgiving, Jasper asked if there was anything that he wanted them to bring Charlotte and all he could think was his apologies. Instead, he said, “Hopefully, I’ll see her at Christmas.” he couldn’t think about her too much. That could make it all so hard for him. He and Henry had inadvertently received a bigger assignment than planned whenever they got to their station and while Henry was mostly doing his best at being the residential superhero, while Max only sometimes could act, if Henry was going to be gone, Max would have to be responsible for hero tasks AND be undercover. That was the most difficult placement he had ever had and he couldn’t dare allow himself any distractions. Not right now. She would understand. And if she couldn’t, he would eventually make it up to her.

Charlotte was at Henry’s parents’ house whenever he and Jasper arrived and they joyously screamed whenever they saw each other, hugging and hopping and all talking at once. Henry glanced around, “Where are my parents?”

“We literally haven’t seen either of them all week,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. 

Jasper wondered, “Were you able to get everything that I messaged you for the feast?”

“Yeah. Who do you think you’re talking to?” She asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Umm, only the youngest crisis management specialist in the state…” She fought off a smile and he shook his head and excitedly yelled, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW JOB!!!” 

She smiled bashfully and shook her head, “I’m in a probationary period, and only even working with police forces of Swellview, Neighborville, Bordertown and Hiddenville… I’m gunning for that Metroburg spot, but it has literally NEVER gone to a non-supe and I need to build my resume and finish my next degree.” 

The boys dropped their things in the living room and the mood got a little tense for a moment as Henry and Jasper glanced at each other, silently deciding who would say something about it. She stopped smiling for a while and just said, “Maybe, I’ll be able to see him at Christmas!” She tried to pretend that she was fine, but secretly stalking his alias on social media and seeing how he seemed to be spending his holidays with Zenovia was heartbreaking. 

This wasn’t like when Jack was surrounded by fans and given numerous declarations of love from his fan base. It should have been similar, but this woman was always tagging Borya and they seemed very close. She knew that it was business, but it was also undercover and she wasn’t basic. She knew that… whatever the reasons, there was something else there that, while it probably was only business for him… it bothered her. 

Henry tried to distract her from her sorrows and Jasper stole her phone and hid it to keep the obvious obsessing to a minimum.

Once the guys were full of food, wine and beer, she was still functional. Sometimes, you gotta push through that itis, and that was definitely what she was used to. Henry had fallen asleep on the couch. Jasper was sitting on the floor near him, with his head leaned back, mouth wide open, and she noted that Henry’s phone was on the table. 

Before the move, Henry’s phone might as well had been her second phone. She knew all of his passwords and everything. So, she figured that since she couldn’t access Max through her own, Henry’s should be as easy for her. 

It wasn’t a holiday in Russia, so she figured that he was probably just chilling, if not working and if he was working, Henry’s phone would be the best out, anyway. She opened Richie’s social media and saw Borya hearted a lot of things in the notifications. She checked and saw that they were mostly photos with her in them. She wasn’t tagged and the photos were set to private, so Henry must’ve allotted for Max to see them. Then, she went to check Max’s page - which was usually private and only had a few public posts that she could stalk, but since Richie and Borya were friends, she could see more and she hated to see it. 

The woman, Zenovia was all over Max in public settings, their faces were really close in several photos, and if Charlotte’s translations were correct, she called him by affectionate names in comments on things. The ONLY thing that was a little bit of reprieve was the fact that Max had not posted anything about her. She sort of just barged into his space by tagging him to things and commenting. But… Still… Charlotte opened Henry’s texts and found his exchanges with Max. 

“You shouldn’t do this, Girl. You already know what it is and it’s business and that’s it and he has responsibilities and…” She closed the app. She couldn’t violate his privacy or Henry’s that way. She set it down and wondered if this was going to aggravate her for the rest of her life. Probably. But, she wasn’t going to spy on Max. Lurking his social media because she missed him was one thing. Invading the privacy of his relationship with Henry was on another level and she felt like she had more morals than that. 

Instead, she picked up the phone again and texted, “Dude, if you possibly can, I think you need to try to reach out to Charlotte.” She watched as Max typed, stopped and resumed, and finally, eventually the reply came.

“I find it incredible that you would be so reckless as to mention her name in a text. What if Zenovia had this phone? What if she was right next to me? What if one of the others were. I’m extremely disappointed by this and you need to promptly delete it.”

She replied. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. This is Charlotte. Henry fell to sleep…” Her heart was pounding in her throat and her hands were all sweaty and she couldn’t remember the last time that something made her this nervous. Then, the phone began to vibrate in her hand and the name Borya the Beast flashed with a photo of Max. She took a deep breath and answered, “Hello?” 

Max felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Recalling her voice and hearing her voice were very different things and it had been months. “Hello.” His chest was on fire and he had never wanted to rush to somebody more than he did right now. “So, you’re… playing on people’s phones?” 

“I was… Just lonely. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about… I didn’t think. Are you pretty mad?”

“I was mad when I thought it was him,” he said, with a chuckle, then to someone in the background, he said something in Russian like ‘Taking this outside’ or ‘Going outside for a moment,’ or something like that. She only got the word for “outside.” It wasn’t terribly noisy on her end, but she could bet that it was more difficult for him to hear on that end. Plus, he probably needed privacy to chew her out for this little stunt. When it was quiet on his end, his voice was clearer and she could hear gentleness in it, “So… Please don’t do that, ever again, okay?” She nodded, blinking out her tears. “Char? Are you still there?” 

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, I won’t. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know what came over you. We haven’t been able to talk or see each other in four months and believe me, I KNOW how hard it is. It’s torture for me, and I think you care just as much about me as I do about you, so I think it’s as hard for you…”

“No… I mean, yes, but also… You’re big on family and spending time with them and now it’s the holidays and your folks are all celebrating in Hiddenville, but you’re thousands of miles from home, surrounded by people who aren’t even your friends, and on top of that, I miss you. I miss you, but I worry, too. About the danger and the enemies, and the double life… that… woman…” 

He was being emotionally stirred up, up until “that woman.” Then, he asked, “What woman?” 

“You know, the one that keeps tagging you to photos of you and her all over each other and practically sexting with you in the comments sections of said photos. Zenovia.” 

He shut his eyes tightly and whispered, “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“I know that. But, still… It’s hard to watch..”

“You aren’t supposed to be watching. You’re supposed to be keeping a safe distance, physically and electronically. Charlotte… She is a very dangerous person. I don’t ever want you to leave a trail to yourself that she could find. She’s evil and ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. She’s also got a soft spot for me and being close to her makes it easier for me to get closer to Russian overlords. Had I not utilized that attachment, it might have taken twice as long, maybe even longer to get where I am. Just… don’t watch for this stuff. I can’t break character, and I can’t get distracted…” She sniffled and he sighed. He hated making her cry. He knew that there was no way around it, with this subject matter, but he still hated it. “I love you,” he said, softly.

“I love you, too,” she said. It was the quickest she had ever replied it and he had to remind himself that millions of lives could be affected if he failed. Because he just wanted to jump in the jet and hold her and kiss her and look her in the eyes and promise her that everything he did was to make sure that he did his job and lived to return to her.

“Hey, whenever this is over, maybe you should just marry me and become part of my cover,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Yeah. I should,” she said. He couldn’t tell what he was hearing in her voice, but he hadn’t expected her to say that. She hadn’t laughed, so he didn’t know if she took it as a joke, and she didn’t inflect her voice, so he wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or trying to contain some anger. “I should’ve come with you. It’s not like I couldn’t work from there. I chose my career.”

“Well… it’s going good, though! I’ve seen the reports done on you in your local news outlets. You’re right out of college and already securing the bag. That’s amazing, Charlotte. I wouldn’t have asked you to trade that in for me.”

“You’re saving a multitude of lives,” she reminded him.

“While losing the love of mine…” he said so softly she might not have heard him if he weren’t in complete silence.

“You’re not,” she said. She took a deep breath and assured him, “I can handle it. I knew well enough what I signed up for. You know… When military personnel is deployed, sometimes there’s absolutely NO WORD from them for months and only snippets of visits. And their purpose is questionable. You’re a true hero and… I can do this. I have to. Or what? I get to feel the way that I felt tonight for even longer, while I try to get over you, or worst case scenario, for the rest of my life, because I never can? The options outside of sucking it up and being patient until we can be together again all seem miserable.” She sniffled, “Is there any way that you can arrange for me to come to see you?”

He sighed a sigh of relief. The moment Zenovia was mentioned, he was certain that a breakup was soon to follow. Charlotte reaffirming that she believed in him and in them was something he didn’t realize that he needed so much to get him through all of this. “I’ll think of something.”

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 76

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 75. Chapter 77

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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With the location marked on the map, we just have to get there and kill a kinrath on the way. Not too difficult, I can hear them around here. Jolee and I take point, while Bastila and Canderous are some way behind flirting with each other. “It does my old heart good to see some love being expressed.”

“Is that a comment on me?”

“If you want to take it that way, it is,” he says, “I was only pointing out that the Jedi tend to be very anti-love.”

“Yeah, Bastila’s been on my case about that before,” I say, “I tell you, no one’s more surprised about this development than she is.”

“Not you?”

“You kidding? I could see something between them the first time they met,” I tell him, “Bastila was trying to act all stoic and cautious and Canderous saw right through her. He’s been flirting with her the whole time, but Mandalorian flirting isn’t everyone’s cup of caff, you know?”

“Is it yours?”

“Me?” Weird question to ask. “Yeah, I guess, I’ve been with a few Mandalorians before, I’m just not particularly interested in Canderous. He’s twice my age, I don’t have a thing for you either.”

Jolee scoffs. “Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” he says sarcastically. He’s not into me, either, he hasn’t flirted at all. He’s not interested in me that way, and I don’t think he would be even if we were closer in age. Some people just aren’t romantically compatible.

“Jolee, can I ask you something?” I say.

“Bit late to be asking that, isn’t it?” he says teasingly.

I grin, but then back to my question. “You were in my head earlier, how did you do that?”

“How do you know you weren’t in my head?”

“Don’t start with that, I’ve already gone through it with Bastila,” I say seriously, “If she and I didn’t have some kriffing Force Bond, I’d be questioning it, too. But I’m positive, you were in my head. Not the other way around.”

He sort of ho-hums his head, like “okay, fair point.” “Sending and receiving thoughts is like blinking in terms of effort for experienced Jedi,” he says with a small shrug, “The hard part is making those thoughts coherent. Not hard for you, though, apparently.”

“It’s the Force Bond thing,” I say casually, “I’ve got practice with it. I don’t just initiate conversation without asking first, because my parents raised me to be polite, but hey.”

“What’s that about, anyway?” Jolee says curiously, “This… Force Bond between you and Bastila. Such things develop between master and apprentice often, but…”

“I’m as confused as you are,” I tell him honestly, “And the Jedi Council. They didn’t have any idea how it formed either, they think it’s a destiny thing.”

He hums neutrally. “I’d be willing to bet the Council knows more than they let on.”

Wait, what? “What do you mean by…?”

And suddenly he pulls out his lightsaber and throws it at a tree. I watch it fly up, and I watch it return to his hand. Then I hear a massive thud behind us and Bastila shrieks. “Got the kinrath,” he says. What an effect subject change! Canderous picks up the kinrath carcass and then picks up his conversation with Bastila just as easily, as if a body didn’t just fall out of a tree.

My head starts to feel fuzzy again. I inject another stimpack as we approach the clearing. I see a smooth stone in the middle of the opening to the clearing. Ancient symbols have been carved into the surface on the stone. I didn’t realize Shyriiwook had a written form, but I guess this must be it. The letters bear a resemblance to those of other languages. I’m sure linguists would balk at this sort of development, but I doubt any of them care too much about Shyriiwook. Even through the layers of moss and dirt on the stone from years of sitting undisturbed, I can still read the words, traced by generations of Wookiee claws: “The beast comes when summoned, if you are generous. It comes to battle, if you are worthy and wise. It grants you glory, if you are fearsome and brave. Feed the beast and it will heed your call. Take vipers from their lair and hang them from above. Let blood scent the ground of our ancestors.” I try not to rest my hands on the stone too much. I’m an outsider, and this is a Wookiee cultural site. I have not been invited. I am merely a guest.

A kshyy vine hangs down in the center of the clearing. It smells strongly of blood, and that blood is soaked into the ground. “Looks like the kinrath goes here,” I say. As Canaderous starts to suspend it, I see a skeletal corpse not far from it. I decide to check it out. Not much is left of it - the clothes are torn as creatures have taken bits for nests, some bones are missing. It’s still recognizably human, but all that’s left are the inorganics. A datapad, a modest circlet, and a… a lightsaber. Must be the Jedi Freyyr mentioned. I quickly take these pieces and load them into my pack. My curiosity has gotten the better of me, but from the rustling in the distance, I know now is not the time to investigate any further. I need to focus now. Great Beast.

The beast has four claws on each of its four limbs, and great tusks protruding from the corners of its mouth. Its flesh is smooth and scaly, and covered with spikes. It smells of death. Yeah, I’m scared. Jolee reaches out with the Force, trying to whip the beast up in a Force whirlwind, but nothing happens. Well, fuck.

Canderous, thinking quickly as the beast trudges towards us, fires his rifle right at its eyes. It takes him a couple rapid shots, but he manages to blind it. It stops and screeches in pain. The sound hurts my ears, it feels like agony. It doubles over briefly, and I can see a blade lodged in its flesh. Like, deeply lodged, the skin has grown around it. This isn’t going to be like pulling a splinter. I have to kill it and carve the blade out.

Whoa! The beach reaches out one of his massive arms and swats at us, knocking me and Bastila back - which I only realize after it all happens. It was so fast I couldn’t process it until after it happened. I catch it quickly enough to break my fall, and to cushion Bastila’s fall with a quick shot of the Force. Then I reach out to both Bastila and Jolee with the Force and send them, “Without eyes, this creature is going to be relying either on sound or smell to find us, anyone want to bet which?”

“Not particularly,” Jolee says, dripping in irony.

“Have you got a poison grenade?” Bastila asks, “Perhaps we can overwhelm its sense of smell.”

“Worth a shot.” I pull the small grenade off my belt and activate it before quickly throwing it at the beast. It hits the ground and explodes, sending a poisonous cloud into the air around the beast. But the beast doesn’t seem to get sick. Which tells me it’s got its own poison inside, and I’m willing to bet it’s in those claws. It swats the cloud away, and at least for a moment I think it’s confused.

Okay, next step is find the weak spot. Every predator I’ve ever seen so far has one. It’s really hard to get to for their typical prey. But I have no idea what this thing typically eats, so I guess we’ll have to try everything. “Go nuts, guys,” I announce, and the beast turns toward me and starts to charge for me. But before it can get to me I jump up to a branch above me. Jolee and Bastila dive out of the way. They start attacking with their lightsabers while Canderous fires at pretty much every part he can get a good shot at. All of them going for more or less the front of the creature. But I think Rothrrrawr may have been onto something without realizing it. This guy is apex predator size, big bad dude of the forest, what sort of prey would be going for his back? I don’t want to do anything that might damage the blade, so no plasma grenade. Odds are the blade is cortosis weave, it would have to be if Bacca made it from the hull of a starship, to handle the stresses of space. So my lightsaber wouldn’t hurt it. And neither would a frag grenade. But the only grenade left on my belt is a plasma grenade, so there goes that plan. Looks like it’s lightsaber or nothing. I pull the purple lightsaber off my belt and aim carefully - if I throw it right, I can lodge the lightsaber in its back, and the heat damage that could do could cook that thing from the inside out. “Try to keep it in the same place, guys,” I send to Bastila and Jolee, “I want to try something.”

“Well, do it fast!” Jolee urges.

Just have to time it right. Trust the Force, not my eyes. If my hunch is right about the back being a weak spot, this should work. I throw the lightsaber and use the Force to activate it mid-flight. Changes the physics of it a little but another push of the Force gets it back on track. The lightsaber lands blade down in the creature’s back. It rears back in pain, shrieking and hurting my ears again. Almost like they’re operating on the same wavelength, Jolee and Bastila both jab their lightsabers at the creature’s throat, cutting off the shriek and, based on the lack of movement, its life. They withdraw their lightsabers and get out of the way before the beast falls on them.

I drop down from my perch. I exhale heavily. “I’m glad that worked,” I say, and I pull my purple lightsaber out of the beast’s back. Now to get the blade out of there. “Take five, guys,” I say, “And next time we have to fight a giant beast, I’ll take point.” They’re not listening to me, they’ve already started to chill. Okay, that’s fine. “Canderous, have you got a knife?”

“Isn’t that basically what a lightsaber is?” he asks, already pulling out his knife for me. A simple enough thing, a tool, not a weapon. Which is just what I need.

“Do you cut food with a sword?”

He snickers a bit. “Well put.”

The hard part about getting the blade out is going to be all the spikes on the beast’s back. Whether they’re poisonous or not, they’re bound to hurt if I hit one of them. Even out in the Outer Rim as a scout I didn’t skin, well, anything really. My strengths tended to be more resource and terrain analysis. Sure, we all had input with the other members of our team - I worked with the linguists and anthropologists a lot - but I was never responsible for feeding the team. The most I’d do is track herds or figure out which species would be, ecologically speaking, okay if we ate one. I didn’t prepare meals, I didn’t do any of the killing for meals, I didn’t skin the animal to sell or use its hide, I didn’t do any of that. Which is probably for the best in the long run, because I got the impression it was delicate work and delicate is the last word anyone would use to describe me.

This, thankfully, is not a job that requires being delicate with the body of the animal. We’re not going to eat it, we’re not going to scavenge the body for goods to sell. It’s not our place, and it’s not ecologically sound. A predator this size is probably pretty high up on the trophic pyramid, so there likely aren’t a lot of them. It approached alone and had loud and low cries, so I’d wager it’s a solitary creature. From an ecosystem perspective, I would rather not have killed it. Ecosystems can be delicate, even when they’re as well cared for as the Wookiees try to do. Not that we had much choice in the matter this time.

In order to get the blade out, the first thing I do is carve out a chunk of the back around the blade. This line is jagged and the cut is uneven, but it’s enough to pull out the chunk around the blade, which isn’t very deep into the back. Canderous’s knife is sharp, which is useful because I have to cut through at least one bone. Once I pry the chunk out of the back, I’m basically sculpting, cutting chunks of flesh away trying to free the blade. Once I slice enough away, the rest just falls off. Part of me wants to clean the blade off, but I think Freyyr would appreciate it more if I leave the grime there.

We go back to Freyyr, and he asks if we have found the blade. He looks overjoyed to see it, reverently examining every inch of it. “It may not look like much,” he says, “but this is a very important relic of my people. Tradition dictates that it be respected.”

“I’ve done my best to do just that,” I tell him.

He smiles. I think - it’s hard to tell through all the fur. “I didn't think I was worthy to search for it,” he says, “but I realize that was selfish despair. I should have challenged Chuundar long ago. I will make amends now. I have new hope. You have led me to this… Perhaps that is what the Great Beast wanted.” Somehow I doubt that the Great Beast wanted anything but lunch, but what do I know? “I will climb to the surface as quickly as possible and try to gather support. You will have to follow on the paths as soon as you can, Rena. When you arrive, we will confront Chuundar in the throne room. My people will no longer be slaves.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Second Contact.”

So, I got quite a few requests to add a sequel to my first contact story, and as it turns out, it might take more than one to get all my ideas out on the page. this is technically a stand alone sequel to the first two, and there will probably be more following it later on. I want to do one detailing the linguistic aspect of first contact, but if that isn’t something you want to hear best make it known now.

Please send your questions critiques comments messages, prompts, and ideas to me :)

The Bran struggled with complete shock and confusion. Fear ran rampant through their ranks as they spied quietly on the horrid predators from a distance. After the initial contact, subsequent chase and eventual first meeting, the creatures had retreated backwards towards their strange craft with their subordinate creature in tow.

After the creatures had left, the Bran had contacted the galactic assembly for immediate military assistance to deal with the hostile invader. The galactic assembly had been skeptical on the nature of the creatures, and their supposed aggression, but all reports of the creature’s species index had come up negative.

They could have told them that. The entire galaxy would have been alerted long ago if a creature like this had appeared. First of all because of their nature as a predator species, that was almost unheard of across the galaxy and definitely unheard of in sentient life.

Examining them from a distance, a few thing became clear, the odd creatures had a definite hierarchy, the first creature contacted was definitely the subordinate member of the pack, and seemed to be receiving punishment for running off. Additionally, it seemed that they had a coordinated communication system, or, a language set. Immediate postulation marked the odd grunting, humming, clicking, and hissing as the source of their communication.

Representatives of the Galactic Assembly, and linguistic experts would be on site within the next hour, hopefully with a contingent of solders to take care of the problem. The Bran had always mistrusted creatures that could shrug off the effects of dihydrogen monoxide.

 “I said I’m sorry.” 2 Lieutenant Vir complained from where he sat on the asteroids rocky surface.

The rest of the landing team gathered around him with looks of anger and disapproval, “What the hell were you thinking, chasing after that thing by yourself. You could have been killed, or worse, eaten alive.”

He went to open his mouth, but Captain Kelly cut him off, “Never mind that, first.” She turned away engaging the com on her helmet, “Alpha 1 to Enterprise, Enterprise do you copy, over.”

“Copy Alpha 1, this is Enterprise, over.”

“W…. We have contact…. Sentient life…. We have made contact…” She trailed off in disbelief

“Say again Alpha 1.”

“ALIENS.”

Static, “I…. I hear you Alpha 1, readying contact teams.”

“Sent the linguist down, will you, we may need her.”

Lieutenant Vir sighed in frustrated annoyance turning to look out at the vastness of space, it was, intoxicating. He was going to have to get used to it.

He blinked, and all of a sudden his eyes widened, “Captain!”

“Alpha 1…..

There was a long pause of awe, “I see it.” As the massive – silver ship glided towards them.

 The landing team came in quick and fast surrounding the small landing craft and the group of towering creatures. Plasma weapons were readied, and countermeasures were made as the small group of predators huddled themselves together in a tight circle.

They hummed and clicked at each other in that frantic way they had.

“Are those exoskeletons.” One solider whispered to another

The creature frowned, “What else could it be….?”

“Spacesuit?”

“I suppose.” He responded skeptically. The circle of predators shifted, and the entire circle stepped aggressively forward determined to show their power and dominate this new, unknown species.

More clicking and hissing followed, and then one of the creatures lowered its weapon. Two white and green orbs glowed from behind anterior faceplate. The other creatures turned to hiss at it, but the creature kept going, dropping the weapon slowly to the ground then raising its hands into the air.

“What is it doing?”

“I don’t know, trying to intimidate us?”

The creature stepped forward. Weapons immediately clicked into position, the predator stopped for a long moment before slowly lowering itself towards the ground dropping its hands and lowering its head. It shuffled forward from there on all four appendages awkwardly, as if it wasn’t meant to move in such a fashion.

It was getting closer.

The group stiffened, more hissing and clicking.

 “F*ck, Lieutenant, what are you doing. Get back here.”

“Just, give me a second. If you stop pointing your guns at them maybe they’d be less inclined to shoot us.”

Hard rock and dust plumed up from the asteroids surface covering his space suit in a fine layer of black-purple dust.

He was close now, he could see the individual patterns on the creature’s skin…. Suits, and the barrels of their weapons pointing down at his face. At least, that’s what he assumed they were. Was he being stupid….. Probably.

Was he about to get vaporized, likely?

They were growing more agitated.

“Well whatever you planned on doing, you better do it quick.”

“Like you have any better ideas.” He barked back at them, agitating the creatures even more, “How do you tell another species you don’t intend to hurt them?”

“I don’t F**king know, lay on your back or something. Show them your belly.”

“That’s a stupid ass idea.” Another called

“They’re going to shoot.”

Lieutenant Vir hissed in fear and anger, “F**k it.” Dropping to his side and rolling slowly onto his back. He felt like a dog who had just been caught eating the couch cushions. He closed his eyes tight, waiting for the plasma, gun, or other fire to rip him apart. When nothing happened he cracked open an eye.

 His finger was on the trigger, he was slowly beginning to squeeze, but then the creature rolled onto its back flat on the ground. It was an exceptionally vulnerable position. From there it couldn’t reach its weapons, it couldn’t stand up quickly, and “Most likely” It’s vital organs were all there exposed for them to reach.

“Stop.” He ordered feeling the group around him back off.

“What is it?”

“I…. I think it’s surrendering.”

“How do you know that?’

“I don’t know, It just…. Seems most likely.”

He looked down to find the creature peering up at him…. If those were its eyes, than one was closed and the other opened, the black at the center of its eye was dilated wide. Then slowly, it lifted one of its odd, thin limbs and reached upwards hand outward, spidery digits extended. Looking into it’s eyes, he sensed…. No malice, but… curiosity.

In a leap of ether stupidity or faith, he reached out and touched the creature’s extended claws.

 Their fingers came into contact slowly at first hesitant and twitching. Vir allowed the creature to grow used to him before moving slowly to his knees. Their hands were clasped lightly together now, almost like a handshake.

He looked up at the creature’s face, oddly beaklike, “We…. Come in peace?”

He stood increment by increment, very slowly before standing toe to toe with the creature. He was a good foot taller than they were on average, but he tried not to be intimidating as he examined the creature. He held out his hand again, and the creature obliged allowing him to examine it, the writs, and the odd stubby fingers.

 For a predators, they were rather curious creatures. Once the first one had made his offering of peace, the rest of his pack had calmed themselves dropping their weapons, and slowly approaching on foot to mingle with the uneasy soldiers.

He wasn’t sure how he should feel with the way they examined him, almost as if they were sizing him up to eat, but so far, the green eyed one hadn’t showed any overt signs of aggression. He had simply wanted to examine him and members of his species, as if trying to figure out how they worked.

When the main landing ship had come to a stop, the creatures, had gone tense, all accept for that green eyed one who approached the ship with the same measure of curiosity, wandering up the boarding ramp to a chorus of hissing form his companions. He had greeted their commander with the same gesture as before holding out one of his limbs.

The commander was smart, and reliable, and quick to pick up on an atmosphere, so he took the extended hand in his own though his movements were halting.

The first thing they did was establish the correct enviornment for this creature. Turns out about 79% nitrogen 20% oxygen and at least .05% carbon was required. It was actually a very common compound atmosphere, and coaxing the creatures aboard their ship, they had increased the levels within liable range.

Once they did that, something amazing happened. The green eyed creature, engaged what must have been a release sequence on, what turned out to be a space suit. Some of the other species scampered away as if the creature was shedding its skin peeling it off bit by bit before pulling the helmet from its head taking a deep breath. It was still pretty large with a massive, long legs and a patch of fur a top it’s head. It had the forward facing eyes of a predator and sharp teeth inside a large mouth.

The other creatures hesitantly followed its lead, stripping off their space suits.

It was up to them now to establish the linguistic base that would hold for the universal translators in the future. However, getting the green eyed creature to pay attention long enough to start working turned out to be a challenge, and they were eventually forced to turn to the other creatures.

One in particular had long, dark fur tied up on top of its head. Unlike its counterpart, it was smaller and the lines that made up its body were distinctly more rounded.

It seemed to pay attention.

 And that was the moment, the moment that humans joined the galactic community. They began as predators, dangerous but ever curious eager to teach and to learn from their strange new companions. Despite the fear they would eventually spread through the galactic community, the humans had maintained a surprisingly peaceful first contact.

And all because a young human learned to roll over and play dead.

[eirian-houpe]

Breathe - Chapter 2

Fandom: Stargate Universe, Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Belle (Once Upon a Time)/Nicholas Rush

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Nicholas Rush, Eli Wallace, Ronald Greer, Matthew Scott, Tamara “TJ” Johansen, The Destiny

Additional Tags: Angst, Science Fiction, AU, Smut, Violence, Character Death, Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort

Series: Part 1 of We Three

Summary: As the Lucian Alliance attack Icarus Base, Doctor Rush makes the decision that dialing back to Earth is too dangerous, though that may not at all be his reason for attempting to dial the ninth chevron, persuaded by Eli, and by something Belle had said to him previously, he substitues Earth for Icarus, and the connection is made. In spite of hurrying to urge Belle to the 'Gate room and through the 'Gate, neither he, nor anyone else believes that Belle actually made it on board Destiny...

Thanks to @xiolaperry for helping me to find a name for the series.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]

Chapter 2 - Powerplay

If chaos had a persona, or even a personality, it would be the SG team and numerous civilians that had evacuated Icarus through the ‘Gate, but chaos wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, not in this instance. It afforded Rush the opportunity to pick himself up and get his bearings in what was clearly a ship of Ancient origin.

He swore under his breath as he discovered his glasses were broken, no doubt in the none too gentle landing while making his way through the ‘Gate. Only to be expected, he supposed. The console in the ‘Gate room yielded no information that was useful, so he made he way silently up the steps to the gantry to look down upon the milling travelers.

If he were honest with himself - and why the hell should he break the habit of a lifetime now, just because he’d finally succeeded in dialing the ninth chevron address - his eyes were scanning the crowd of people for the diminutive form of Doctor French. He couldn’t see her, and a part of him felt the pain of guilt at that. If she hadn’t made it thought the ‘Gate, then she was still on Icarus, and if she stayed there…

He pushed the thought away, swallowing hard. He didn’t have time for worry, for regret - certainly not guilt. He had to get control of the ship; establish himself so that no one could push him around, especially not Colonel Young. A slow, half smile settled onto his face as he looked down on everyone, still in chaos below, then, while everyone else was still gnashing their teeth in… whatever emotion it was they were feeling, he slipped out of the ‘Gate Room, and went to try and find somewhere more amenable to concentration and establishing control.

As if to underline the thought, or in agreement, he felt the rumble of movement beneath his feet, and in the following moment, for barely an instant longer than a heartbeat, everything around him seemed to stretch, slow, and recover all at the same time. The ship was moving and, he suspected, not through normal space. Setting his thoughts in better order, he reached out a hand to place his fingertips against the gray wall of the corridor beside him.

Where are you taking us, my friend?

It didn’t take more than a few steps after that for him to realize that although the ship had a working life support, it wasn’t working very well. The air output was tepid and stale, and not the crisp cold he’d come to expect of a ship in perfect operation. No doubt he’d have to do something about that, not to mention find out where they were, because that would probably be the first question put to him, followed by, “…and how do we get back to Earth.”

That was what was wrong with these people. No fucking imagination. Christ, I need to think!

A door ahead of him all but beckoned him, and he reached for the control at the side.  The door slid open, parting in the center onto a breathtaking vista. An observation room stretched out in front of him, as though it were open to whatever space they traveled through, a bench to sit on, and a railing as though to prevent an observer from falling away, out into the Ancients’ version of Faster Than Light travel.

He stepped forward slowly, for the first time realizing his insignificance, while at the same time recognizing his part in this grand tapestry. It was a dichotomy that he found comforting as much as humbling, and humble wasn’t a word he often associated with himself. He stood, staring out at the blue-white vastness, letting his mind slow, calm, and become one with it.

She should have been here.

The thought caught him off guard, along with the brief tightness it caused in his chest, and he took a breath, attempting to settle again, allowing the mesmeric passage through altered space to subsume him once more, and so he had no idea how long he’d been standing, still and silent, when the door behind him opened again.

“Sheesh… we’re on a ship?”

He couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Eli seemed to have a knack for stating the obvious. It was something that usually irritated the hell out of him, but in Eli, he found it… almost endearing.

“The design is clearly Ancient, in the truest sense of the word.” His voice came from somewhere inside of himself and he didn’t take his eyes from their unfocused gaze out into the voice. “Launched… hundreds of thousands of years ago.”

“Doctor Rush?” Lieutenant Scott’s voice drew him back closer to reality, and his voice took on emotion once again - a sense of wonder.

“Faster than light… Yet not through hyperspace.”

“What are you doing?”

“Who knows how far it’s traveled?”

“Doctor Rush,” Scott repeated, proving his earlier thoughts with the next words from his mouth. “We’ve got a lot of wounded. We need to get home.”

He blinked, sighing, but remained where he was, making no response, not even starting in surprise when Scott’s radio crackled to life, and the man answered, receiving the news from Miss Johansen - the expedition medic - because that was what this was now, an expedition, like any other.

We’ve got a problem. One of the air vents just shut down in here.

“Copy that,” Scott answered with a sigh.

“Yeah, the air’s getting pretty thin in here too,” Eli said, and he found himself surprised that they were only just noticing that now.

“What does that mean,” Scott asked.

“That the life support system is failing,” Rush said, hating to state the obvious himself, but since Scott was asking, and Eli was making the observations, he felt it necessary. He started to turn as he finished, “And we should probably do something about that.”

To his great relief, Scott left him to get on with the business of doing just that once they’d reached a room where there were a number of consoles like the one in the ‘Gate room, and to Eli’s credit - though he annoyingly watched every single button press and read every single screen too closely over his shoulder - he too allowed him to get on with his work.

All just as well, really. It was one thing having the luxury of time in which to translate Ancient texts and to make sense of the syntax, to parse the full meaning of what was there, it was quite something else to do so ‘live’ and under pressure, as it were.  This was why he’d needed a linguist… and why he still needed one. Damn the woman! Why didn’t she listen to me?

Had he been too hard on her? She’d called him arrogant, and maybe she was right, but he was right too - he’d been called worse - and he truly did see it as confidence; a confidence born of having to fight his way up from the gutters of Glasgow, to prove his own worth at Oxford and afterwards, until coming to the attention of the Stargate Program, ironically in very much the same sort of way as he’d found Eli, and in much the same way that he’d recruited Miss French. That was not lost on him.

He remembered, then, as he struggled with the Ancient, the moment they’d first met. He hadn’t been exactly cordial, but then again, he hadn’t been anything other than himself either. Waiting for her to arrive in the lecture hall where she’d been informed that she’d have to give her lecture. He’d arranged that, of course; pulled strings so that he would meet the woman on his territory, put her on the back foot right away. He had to have her agreement, by fair means or foul.

“I’m sorry,” she called out and it sounded to him as though she were trying not to appear irritated. She hadn’t succeeded in that. “Excuse me, but I think there’s been some kind of a mistake.”

He looked up at her then, and his eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t known what to expect - the picture in her file had been from many years previous - first year of college, maybe - and she had her doctorate now. He hadn’t expected such stunning beauty, nor the inescapable pull of her deep blue eyes, even narrowed as they were, in suspicion. He took a breath, and carefully schooled his face into his usual, sardonic expression.

“No,” he said “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, really?” she said, coming to a halt and folding her arms across her breasts. “And how do you figure that?”

“Belle French, isn’t it?” he asked, with exaggerated patience.

She blinked, and he watched as many emotions flashed through her eyes, eventually settling into a kind of worried panic, before she squeaked out, “My father...!”

“Moe French?” He didn’t go on until she nodded her confirmation, and when he did, he didn’t hold back his opinion of the man. “Useless waste of space by all accounts. You on the other hand--”

“I beg your pardon!” she snapped.

“Oh, come now, Miss French,” he scoffed with brittle, dry sarcasm, “Let’s not start lying to one another now . You have a very low opinion of your father.”

“That may be true,” she admitted curtly, “but that doesn’t give you free reign to speak ill of him. If there’s any of that to be done, I’ll be the one to call him out.” He sighed, and watched her bristle even more before she demanded, “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“Rush,” he said. “Doctor Nicholas Rush.”

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me that this is your lecture hall, and that I’m going to have to go find some place else?”

“It used to be mine, but not any more,” he said, starting to peel himself from the chalkboard, and walking her way for just a couple of steps.

“Used to be?” she snapped with a frown.

“I used to work here,” he said as though it were obvious.

“Well, I’m sure this little tour of nostalgia is all well and good,” she told him, “but I’m due to give a lecture in here in…” she looked at her watch and her frown deepened. He knew she would, by now, have seen that it was actually past time for her lecture to have begun, and of course, there were no students in attendance. Nor would there be; another thing he’d arranged.

“There won’t be a lecture, Miss French,” he said, and set down the to-go coffee cup on the desk where he’d earlier set the file containing the images of the Ancient texts and artifacts.

“No lecture?” she demanded, “What—”

“Your students have been told that you’re feeling unwell and—”

“How dare you!” she tried to interject, but he just continued talking.

“—my friend and I would very much like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.  It is rather urgent.”

He shook his head at the memory, and at the following one of their confrontation in the mess hall, trying to push thoughts of her from his mind before he ended up lost in their last encounter, in his quarters on board the Hammond.

He grasped her wrists, tugging her closer and trapped her arms between them. She gasped as he did, cutting off what she’d been saying.  He dipped his head, crushing his mouth to hers, unable not to, her inner fire calling to him. She stiffened, but only for a heartbeat, before she opened to his kiss, kissing him back with equal want - equal passion even as she tried to wrest her hands from his tight grasp.

He leaned back for a moment to stretch out a kink in his back from hunching close to the console to compensate for not having a working pair of spectacles.

Damn it! He needed her now; her expertise. Why had he not insisted she go through the ‘Gate with him, dragged her through if necessary.

He navigated to another screen on the display, running tired and gritty eyes rapidly over the Ancient text, guessing at unfamiliar terms from context and what he did remember of the lexicon in his head until some of it finally started to make sense, and he made keystrokes, and swipes on the screen to enable him to reach the reset dialog for the life support system.

“What are you doing?” Eli’s hushed, and worried accusation was like a slap to the side of his face.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” he demanded, “I’m doing as I said I would and trying to fix the life support.

“But…” Eli stammered, “but that’s not right, what you’re doing there, that screen says—”

Anger flared from deep inside his belly. How dare this young upstart question him, question his actions.

“You have no idea what the screen says,” he argued, starting to raise his voice, but Eli matched him, and somewhere in the back of his head he started to hear measured footsteps becoming hurried ones.

“I read it over your shoulder,” Eli protested, also raising his voice, “And I’m telling you this is the wrong—”

“You have neither the knowledge, not the experience—” Rush started, before Master Sergeant Greer’s voice cut across their verbal sparring.

“What’s going on in here?” he demanded, as he and Scott, and Brody and Park besides, hurried in.

“The life support system is on,” he told them, explaining as if to a group of three year olds, “but for some reason, it’s not working properly. I’m attempting to reset it.”

He watched, feeling a sharp pang of betrayal as Eli turned to Lieutenant Scott and said, “He has no idea what he’s doing.”

In that moment the room descended into chaos and he frowned as he found himself staring down the business end of Greer’s weapon in the instant before he started arguing with Eli about what the boy thought he read on the screen. To his credit, Eli was arguing robustly, even if he were wrong, which in all honesty, he had to admit to himself, he wasn’t entirely convinced he was. A lull in their argument was followed by another flare of tension as the volatile sergeant threatened him with violence if he did what he had to do and reset the life support system.  It was a stand off, and an uncomfortable one at that, until even he finally had enough of the testosterone overload, not to mention the crushing headache he was beginning to suffer, from the combined lack of oxygen, and eyestrain.

“I am gonna press that button. It’s gonna fix the life support,” he said with a calm he did not truly feel, “and then you and I, and everyone else, will be able to breathe, and think much better.” He gave Greer a sour look, truly at the end of his rope with the man who had been locked up on Icarus for a previous altercation between the two of them, in which the sergeant had well and truly been in the wrong - and thank God Colonel Young had seen it that way too - but here, now, though the man was only probably in the wrong, he really didn’t have time for his macho bullshit.

“Now, you can shoot me for that if you like,” he said, adding sarcastically, “But if, however, there are any negative consequences in resetting the system, I suggest you might still need me… to help resolve them.”

As he expected, Greer didn’t listen, leaving it up to Scott to finally pull his finger out of his arse and use his authority to order the man to put down his fucking gun and act like a reasonable adult and not like an adolescent locked into a permanent tantrum.

It took a while, the two of them continuing their staring match even as Lieutenant Scott moved to give that order, and keep a downward pressure on Greer’s arm until, with an almost maniacal chuckle, still not breaking eye contact with Rush, the man finally complied. Only then did Rush, as Greer had already done, lower his gaze to watch as he engaged the reset button on the console.

There was an almost squeaky click as he depressed the button, holding his breath, though he would never admit that to another living soul, and then…

…nothing.

Inside, as Eli stepped forward to examine the display, to read for himself what he had already figured out the moment his finger left the button, a knot tightened inside of him. Frustration warred with feelings of anger; at himself, at the ship… the situation - everything.

“So?” Scott asked, and he could have screamed.

Instead he set his calmest, most sour expression on his face, and with as much sarcasm as he had the energy for and could muster, said, “Well, I suppose that would have been too simple,” before he simply turned and walked away.

[oppressiveliberator]

Have you ever been to Sinnoh? Any people or places of interest?

Years of Life Experience | Ask 'Have You Ever’ Questions!

“I’ve been to most every region!  Certainly some are off limits to foreigners, or they were when I was still travelling, but when possible I tried to visit anywhere I could.  The world is a fascinating place--so much to learn, to do, to experience, to discover. . . .

“But, yes, I have been to Sinnoh!  Perhaps. . .20* years ago. . .?  I’ve met plenty of interesting people, but that’s always quite a personal matter, isn’t it?  I’m certain that some of the people I’ve met have led interesting and productive lives. . .but I haven’t exactly checked in recently.  I would, but. . .my current. . .circumstances make doing so somewhat difficult.  But I think I can speak more on places than people.

“Sinnoh is full of mythology--sometimes it seems like it’s even moreso than other regions!  They’re quite religious there, so there are plenty of beautiful cathedrals and other places of worship to see.  I recommend joining them for services if you may--do be respectful, of course, but I personally enjoy such things.  Churches and temples have a wonderful atmosphere of devotion and belief--and sometimes trust, and sometimes fear of the supposed higher powers they stand for. . . .

“Ah, but I digress!  The three lakes--actually said to possibly be connected to Unova in their deepest parts!--are beautiful and make for an interesting trip. . .though I’ve heard that there’d been an incident perhaps ten years ago. . .but surely things have settled some by now. Reaching the caves that are in the center of these lakes is something one will mostly have to attempt on their own, as their being the homes of the lake spirits in Sinnoh--as opposed to the ones here in Unova--make them a sort of sacred place, though they’re unguarded as far as I recall, and when I entered I didn’t find anything, myself.  But mythical and legendary Pokémon are almost always hidden away, aren’t they.  That’s why they’re the stuff of myths and legends and not even believed to exist by many.

“Mt. Coronet and Stark Mountain also make for pleasant trips, and Stark Mountain in particular is good to visit if you grow tired of the cold, myahaha.  If you can make the hike, the Spear Pillar, where Sinnoh Myths say the world began, is fascinating--well, if you like ruins, that is.  It’s quite high up as well--higher than the clouds, even, which keeps it clear of snow despite the snow elsewhere on Mt. Coronet--so do take caution when visiting.  Air density is very, very low when you’re that high up, which means there’s less oxygen to go around.  I imagine that such oxygen deprivation prompted some of the myths that are told of it.

“There’s another interesting, mythological place, but. . .most of the locals seem keen on keeping it quiet and keeping people out of it for fears of what’s supposedly within. . .perhaps it would be wrong of me to tell you to look for it? Myahaha.

“But do be adventurous as with any region!  Sinnoh has many Pokémon you’ll likely find scarce in other regions if you’re a collector or trainer--or somebody who wishes to ‘befriend’ Pokémon, I suppose--so be prepared to explore if that’s what you’re visiting for. The Great Marsh, as I recall, is home to many Pokémon--I believe they'd received approval from the Global League to make it into a Safari zone, so that should surely be done by now.

“The further north you go in Sinnoh, particularly on the east side of the region as it is split by Mt. Coronet, the more you’ll find a greater difference in the regions, culturally and linguistically.  While they primarily share most of the mainland culture and language--the mainland being where Kanto and Johto and so on are--the northern and eastern areas are heavily, and in some places entirely, culturally and linguistically influenced by Russia!  The Battle Zone--an island off the north end of Sinnoh itself--especially shares this connection and is decidedly more Russian than Sinnohan.  While you’ll most certainly find speakers of “West Sinnohan” there, do be aware that you may struggle with communication as many of the towns and cities there speak only in Russian and “East Sinnohan” and they’re unsurprisingly different dialects.“Hm, I believe I went somewhat offtrack there. . . . My apologies.  The combined cultural experience is an amazing one, and I highly recommend visiting the east side of Sinnoh with a guide if you plan on going further north.  And I do recommend going towards Snowpoint, if only to see Lake Acuity and the Snowpoint Temple--although, you’re not permitted to enter the latter unless you’re “chosen.”  The temple guardians will teach you plenty of things, however, and the exterior and surrounding area are beautiful and well-maintained.

“If you’re a battler or a coordinator, the aforementioned Battle Zone is likely where you’d like to visit.  Despite its name battling isn’t the only matter handled there as it is an entire settlement, though with heavy focus on its perhaps most marketable areas.  The Fight and Survival areas are for battlers--the Fight Area is an ideal visit if you’re more of a viewer of battles than a participant, as they do allow audiences to witness many battles within.

“As for Coordinators, the Resort Area is likely more their speed--and surprisingly tropical.  The Ribbon Syndicate is off limits to but the most skilled of coordinators, but it does host audience-attended Pokémon Contests now and then. . .for a modest fee.  I assume it’s one of those places coordinators dream of performing in, though I will admit I don’t know much about the culture and industry behind Pokémon contests, and am more of a casual fan of Beauty and Cleverness Contests.  Of course, there are Contest Halls all about Sinnoh as well!  There’s no need to go to the Battle Zone to see them.

“Truthfully what places of interest you may want to look out for depend on your own interests!  I’m certain I could name many places to go, but they may not be of interest to you.  For example, Route 224 is a largely irrelevant peninsula which ends on a cliff overlooking the sea.  But at a certain time of year, flowers grow on the otherwise rocky cliff and the pollen and overgrowth turns the rock an interesting shade of white.  Among both certain religions and simply local custom, it’s common practice to come to this rock when it’s in its white form, and leave charms and notes of thanks to Shaymin, the Gratitude Pokémon, which are theorized to live there in some capacity.  Of course, I do love my myths and legends, so I find such a place to be a fantastic visit.  Even visitors are welcomed to leave their words of thanks, so it’s something of local culture to be explored.“I’ll also add that, at times, it appears there are flowers in the ocean itself just off the cliff, uninhibited in their growth by the seawater.  They must come quite a ways up to reach the sunlight, given that the sea there is quite deep.  Perhaps they’re expressing their gratitude as well.“Ah!  And on the note of Shaymin! They’re also said to make their home somewhere near Floaroma Town--which I don’t recommend you visit if you have allergies, myahahahaha!  Flowers are in bloom here all throughout the year, supposedly because of Shaymin’s efforts when it was previously barren.  These days, it’s a farming area and produces some of the most fantastic crops and honey one can find in the world--not to mention the variety of flowers!  I remember hearing talk of using the mystically fertile land to hopefully regrow long extinct plants and grass-type Pokémon from all around the world, though I wonder if that ideal ever saw the light of day.

“Celestic Town, the oldest city in Sinnoh, is as traditionally Sinnohan as a place could be.  It’s the best place to go about learning Sinnoh’s history, although it’s such a traditional town in most places that it could be jarring for most modern visitors. . . .”

He exhales, taking in a few breaths.  He hadn’t been talking nonstop or particularly rambling, but he had spoken a lot. . .which he loved to do, but he was beginning to tire of it.  After a long drink, he ended his little recollections.  “Goodness me, I’ve said quite a bit. . .hopefully you can find something you like if you go to Sinnoh.  Your average visitor seems to have mixed feelings about it, but if you know what you’re after and where to look, and you’re prepared for the cultural and linguistic leap across the mountains, you should have a splendid time.”

((*I’m going off real life years just to be lazy because the timeline a GameFreak employee gave us is hard to work with lmao, take this number with a grain of salt?  DPPt released in 2007--Cyrus was 27 in DPPT.  DPPT was roughly 12 years ago real time, so Cyrus would be 39 at present, and he’s implying he met Cyrus when Cyrus was 18 or so years old, when Cyrus was in college.))

[ericvick]

Stepping up by stepping back: Partaking the vaccine hesitant

Just lately, on the Massachusetts League of Group Wellness Centers’ communications platform, a wellness employee on Cape Cod posted the pursuing information: 

“I required to share what I look at a extremely thriving conversation I had with a hesitant client that can make me truly feel much better in all those situations. This female responded to our text outreach for a vaccination clinic asking if she could get some counseling on the vaccine …We spoke at duration about safety and development, but in the finish she stopped me, saying, ‘I sense like your occupation is just to make me say of course.’ I felt dreadful at to start with, I defined to her that my work is never to make her sense pressured or guilty but only to give her the info we have available to help her make the best final decision for herself and her body.

“She confessed to me that she thinks all the science, she appreciates she should get it, but she is just afraid considering that she has had lousy activities in the earlier with vaccines…We spoke for a when, and in the finish, I advised her we would eliminate her from the call record. I certain her all over again that we help her final decision, and that if or when she is at any time prepared, we are here with no judgment. We thanked each and every other, and she even gave me props for generating her comfortable…This, for me, was the most profitable conversation I experienced to date with a affected individual.”

“You’re probably scratching your head: Why, in a race to get photographs in the arms of as lots of individuals as probable ahead of they get Covid-19 or the coronavirus mutates into a more virulent type, does the Massachusetts League of Group Wellbeing Facilities contemplate this to be just one of our achievement tales?

Our access into the state’s most vulnerable people is deep. Just one in every single 7 Massachusetts citizens receives treatment at a wellbeing center. In Boston, just one of each individual two residents will get care at a wellbeing middle. They normally are living in small, multi-generational residences do the job in important employment and use public transportation. They are the very same communities that were—and, sadly, in some cases, carry on to be—devastated by the pandemic. They are also between the most vaccine hesitant. Our patients’ extra careful attitudes were being verified by a poll organized by the League on public attitudes towards the Covid and other vaccines final December with the Museum of Science Boston and MassINC. The poll oversampled Black and Latinx communities and was administered in English and Spanish. There have been two essential results. The very first was that a the vast majority of Massachusetts people planned to get the vaccine, but wished to wait until finally other folks had absent initial.

The next was that, across all groups, physicians are the most trusted supply of information and facts about the vaccines. But there was a fall of 10 p.c involving whites and communities of shade when it came to obtaining vaccinated right away. That difference can be discussed by the legacy of racism, worries about immigration status, linguistic and cultural isolation, and logistical limitations to entry.

To bridge it, we knew we would will need to attain out to our neighborhood health personnel, dig into vaccine hesitancy scientific studies, and seek input from our associates in the work we do to provide susceptible populations. We would also have to allay our patients’ panic and mistrust by exhibiting them we believed in their great judgment, acknowledging their want to make great decisions, and respecting their autonomy. The good thing is, this solution aligns perfectly with our members’ philosophy of affected person-centered treatment.

The League’s engagement campaign began in January 2021 with the development of products to help folks in having respectful conversations about the vaccine—and permitting people make up their individual minds. The talks can be involving well being middle team and people, among local community well being personnel and individuals, or amongst people on their own with their family members and pals.

There are four sorts of products.

Suggestions for Talks — This is a uncomplicated guidebook for obtaining open-finished, nonjudgmental discussions. They are written at a primary reading amount and are offered in 10 languages at our website, massleague.org.

Prevalent Thoughts and Considerations — Our common issues and fears aren’t like any other individuals out there! They have been tailored precisely for every single inhabitants in Massachusetts, each in terms of what thoughts are provided and in the buy they are introduced. The customizations have been established by listening to the viewpoints of overall health center employees, community teams, and a neighborhood health worker advisory team. They have also been thoroughly published to make them simple for wellbeing center sufferers to have an understanding of and use. They are out there on the League web-site and can be utilised on line or as printed handouts. Experience totally free to personalize them by adding your personal symbol at our website, massleague.org.

Service provider Movies —We requested Black and Latinx health center companies to talk about their encounters of the pandemic, the vaccine, and why they consider persons should really get the shot. But we questioned them to depart their lab coats at home and talk to us as if they were previous friends, not as physicians offering healthcare advice. The result is real men and women sharing their truths, which we think is the only way to genuinely link with clients around the challenges and gains of the vaccine. We are functioning them on regional cable television all over the condition and on social media. The films are obtainable on the League web-site and YouTube web pages.

“After the Pandemic” Artists Films — The remaining element of the marketing campaign, scheduled for late spring and early summer, is a established of pretty short films showcasing artists from every single community chatting about their encounter of the campaign and demonstrating an artwork they did to illustrate the theme “After the Pandemic.” These are meant to rejoice each individual group and encourage those folks who haven’t gotten vaccinated but to do so. They will be operate on social media.

We are now at an inflection issue in the campaign. Lots of of our clients — more mature individuals and individuals with well being problems — have been comparatively keen to get vaccinated. With the opening up of eligibility to anybody more than 16— and now 12—we predicted that we would come across far more resistance, which appears to be to be the scenario. We are now wanting to detect pockets of people who are skeptical or nonetheless on the fence and have interaction with them about the vaccine. If you have some of these men and women in your individual populations or have thoughts about who they may well be and can use our resources to get the conversation started, we welcome your collaboration.

Michael Curry is the president & CEO of the Massachusetts League of Community Overall health Centers.

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