#if only it was counting down OUR ACTUAL extinction

[yourfaveisanavatar]

The Doomsday Clock is an artefact of The Extinction.

the doomsday clock is an artifact of the extinction!

[auroralwriting]

jealousy, jealousy

bucky barnes x avenger!reader (no use of y/n)

bucky hates when his girl has to flirt with the enemy

word count: 1.5k | warnings: none

The whole idea of it was absolutely, utterly stupid.

Zemo was obsessed with you, that much was obvious when he couldn't leave your name out of his mouth during the whole Sokovia Accords issue. Now, he was up to no good once more after escaping prison, leaving the Avengers no choice but to find out what he was up to.

The only problem? He refused to speak. Well, he refused to speak unless it was with you.

Bucky felt rage creep up his whole body when Steve explained what you had to do. You had to actually pretend to be interested in every single word Zemo said, meaning even if he flirted, you had to just take it. Apparently, this genius idea was Tony's, and the rest of the team had agreed to it, meaning Bucky's opinion was next to worthless, especially when you already agreed.

He trusted you with every ounce of his being, and he knew you wouldn't do it if you couldn't handle it, but he hate the fact that Zemo was probably going to flirt your ear off. You were Bucky's girl, his doll, his special girl, his everything, not Zemo's.

Nonetheless, Bucly had to hold his tongue and silently nod as Steve explained.

"What're you thinking, Buck?" Steve asked, noticing Bucky's silent deminor.

"I'm thinking about how many ways I could murder Zemo," Bucky commented, eyes darkening.

Steve sighed, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder, "Bucky, she said she could do this."

"It's not her I don't trust, Steve. Imagine your girl getting hit on and you couldn't do jack shit to stop it. How would you feel then?" Bucky seethed, taking a deep breath in. "Sorry, that was hostile."

With a shake of his head, Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "I understand, Bucky. But we have to get to the bottom of Zemo's plan, and he won't talk unless its to her."

The whole team sat in silence, now gathered in the meeting room. The only noise was the whirl of the fan above their heads as they watched the live footage of you standing in front of Zemo's cell.

"Zemo," You said, crossing your arms. "Being stubborn as always, I hear."

A crooked smile formed on the man's face as he leaned his head on the bars, as close to you as he could get. "Darling, I just did not wish to speak to such insolent people such as the Avengers," Zemo scowled as he spoke. "But a dove as sweet as you? How could I pass?"

Bucky felt his fists clench tightly as he watched the interaction. God, he just wanted to deck this guy straight in the nose. Ever since the Sokovian first went on the run, he always seemed to make some time mid-battle to try and make some small talk with you. It annoyed not only Bucky, but everyone. No one talks that much during a fight. However, now that he was captured, it was the perfect time to use his infatuation of you to the team's advantage.

"Tell me, what do you have planned with those," You paused, grabbing your file and flipping through the loose pages, "Ah, 'weapons of double mass extinction' as you so delicately put it."

Zemo laughed, "Extinction is not my end goal if that is what you are asking my dove."

"It wasn't," You added as Zemo continued.

"However, I am just so excited to reveal what they will be used for." He smiled. Your brow shot up, waiting for his answer. "But seeing it will be the best reveal of all."

Sam sighed, watching this all carry on from where the team was still sat. "He's just gonna play games with her."

"She's smarter than you'd think, give her a chance." Natasha said, "I'd know, I trained her."

Tony stood up, "I don't like this, I'm ending it."

Bucky held up his hand, nodding. "For once, I gotta agree with Stark. I want my girl out of his sight."

Quickly, Steve stood up, "This is our only chance to find out what Zemo has planned. He won't lay a finger on her. Is it uncomfortable? Of course it is, none of us enjoy watching him flirt with her, but it'll work." Tony sat down as Bucky grumbled, all eyes falling back to the screen that showed you now closer to Zemo's bars.

"Would your wife really enjoy knowing you're flirting with me?" You slightly taunted, wanting to push his buttons.

"My wife is dead, but you already know of this." Zemo replied.

With a knowing nod, you pursed your lips, "She was Sokovian too, yeah?"

"We were all from Sokovia, my wife and son, as well as myself." Zemo answered.

"Born and raised?" You continued. Zemo gave a nod as you thought for a moment with a hum, "Were you there when Ultron attacked?"

Zemo nodded, "Yes. That is when my family was murdered."

"I'm sorry," You honestly replied. "Does it still bother you? Not your dead family, but the Sokovia thing. You know, the floating?"

A quick glance of the situation, and it would've looked like you were now just chatting with the enemy, but you held down a smirk as Zemo replied. "Of course I am. That was my home."

"New York could be your home now," You offered. "Turn yourself in and we can get you transferred here."

Zemo laughed, "I would not wish to be here after what will happen."

Boom. You looked up to the camera, "You all got that?" You asked the camera, knowing your team was watching. You grabbed your file, standing up. "Thank you for your time, Zemo. This was very informative." You grabbed your comm and pushed it down, "Stand-by. Send Stark-Bots to check perimeters of the state. Zemo's planning on making us levitate like Sokovia."

Face pale, Zemo stood up, yelling incoherent words that fell upon your deaf ears as you left the room. Bucky, who had seen it all, was already waiting for you outside. He was quick to grab you and hold you tight to his chest.

"I'm okay, Buck," You smiled, voice muffled from your face being pushed against his strong body.

Bucky shook his head, "I know, I just don't want you near that freak again."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words as you pulled away enough to give him a kiss. "You jealous of Zemo?"

"You played into it," Bucky muttered.

"It was all fake, love." You replied. "You know I'm your girl."

Bucky couldn't help but smirk, "Damn right you are." He turned to the door that lead to Zemo's cell. "You hear that? She's my damn girl!"

You couldn't help but feel your heart thump at Bucky's words. He was always so damn hot when he was jealous. "C'mon, show your girl how much you love her." You teased, Bucky's eyes falling on you once more. He was quick to grab your waist with his metal arm, pulling you in as his other hand rested on the back of your neck, pushing your face against his as his lips locked with yours, a tight, sloppy kiss ensuing in the middle of the hall.

"I'm never letting you do that again." Bucky muttered, pulling away to speak. His breath was hot on your cheek as he spoke. He pulled you into another wet kiss as a soft ahem came from behind you both.

"This is not a room, but I'm sure your horny asses could find one."

Bucky groaned as he turned around, "Do you have to ruin every moment?" He asked Sam who stood smugly.

He put his hands in the air, "I just wanted to congratulate Nat's best student on her great work. Especially the one where she made her soldier get all jealous"

"Thank you, Sam," You smiled, a light blush on your face.

Bucky took a pen out of his pocket and threw it at Sam, "Get outta here, man!"

"Alright, alright! No need for hostility." Sam defended as he walked away.

As Sam left, you gave a knowing smile at Bucky. "So jealous over my mission, huh?"

Bucky scoffed, feeling embarrassment creep in his chest, "I wasn't jealous."

"I think you were," You argued. "Over Zemo of all peopke."

"Only I can talk to you that way," Bucky said, voice nearly a whine. "You're all mine, not his or anyone else's, and he knows it."

You smiled, giving Bucky a kiss on the cheek, "And that's probably why he loves doing it so much. You know he's got a thing against super soldiers. He's gonna do anything to get under your skin."

"And he chose the worst way to do it," Bucky muttered as you pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

Bucky looked at you with a goofy smile, pulling back. "C'mon, doll. We still got some work to do cleaning up Zemo's mess."

"Someone's feeling better," You teased as you both began to walk. "You'd better show me some more of that jealousy later," You suggested.

"Oh, I will," Bucky smiled. "You bet your fine ass I will."

[t-a-a-1]

Counting Stars

Pt.3: Nemesis Prime

TFP Optimus (Nemesis) x Female Reader

Summary: After revealing to Optimus that you are carrying his sparkling, he convinces you to stay under the Autobot care. However, after the sudden appearance of an old lover of yours, Optimus faces difficult challenges as he tries to win you back and learn how to prepare to be a father at the same time.

A/N: Lots of yearning, jealousy, delusions, craving, fluff. All that good stuff.

3K

Counting Stars

Pt.3: Nemesis Prime

Who is it? Who is walking among the river of memories? Holding into the hope of meeting what they desire ...

At the start of the beginning we walked in different paths,

At the end of the ending, we find each other in the same world ....

Who is it? Who is walking among the river of memories?

Your eyes adjust to the light as the cold makes your body shiver.

Not remembering much, you rub your arms to try and create heat with the friction. Your head hurts but you rub your belly, more concerned with the sparkling inside of you.

A bright light shines right in front of you. Putting a hand in front of your face to protect yourself from pain in your eyes from the blinding lights, you blink multiple times.

"Is that ... A human?"

"There's no way ... I thought they had become extinct after the end of the Great War."

    Suddenly, you are hit with memories. Megatron. The kids, in danger. Groundbridge explosion. You, in the middle of it. Optimus servo trying to reach you only for you to disappear from his grasp.

And you ended up here. An unknown, cold place.

"Should we bring it to Prime?"

    Hearing the title, you immediately stand up. You see Autobot emblems and feel relief to see that they were on the good side. You didn't know them but they couldn't be bad if they were Autobots ... right?

"No, we shouldn't bother him with such ... nuisance."

    His optics look up and down on you, a judging and disgusting look on his faceplate.

"I am sorry?" You ask, offended. "I am actually Prime's Sparkm–"

"But, Prowl, look, this one has a big belly and it's round!" he points at your stomach and you take a few steps back. "So squishable! Can we keep it?"

"Well," the Autobot with red spiky things in his helm, puts his faceplate close to you. You assumed his name is Prowl by what the other Autobot called him. "Its size could be helpful with cleaning out small organic materials stuck in our gears."

"Yeah, those tree-things give out a lot of leaves. I don't like the feeling of it," the other Autobot took a step further and picked you up on his servo. You feel colder, you could feel the cold emitting from his metal through the fabric of your clothes. "I don't know why Prime keeps insisting on keeping them, we should just cut them off and get rid of the problem."

"Jazz, you know how he gets when organic things get destroyed, let's not get there."

    From Jazz servo's you had a better view of the things around you.There are many buildings, so tall that you are unable to see the sky. A sense of megalophobia over-took you for a moment but quickly got over it after your mind made a few questions.

"I didn't know you had trees on Cybertron?"

    Where else could you be? Tall buildings, long roads that move among structures. Things that looked alien-like that your mind couldn't have words for. Especially, robots you had never seen before. But this doesn't tie down with Optimus' stories. Cybertron was supposed to be desolate, inhabitable. This place doesn't look completely dead, but it's as if a grey atmosphere had overtaken the entire planet but at least its people looked to be thriving.

"On Cybertron we didn't. But here, in the New Cybertron, well ... they are rare," Jazz says, he had a blue visor that protected his optics, or so you thought. "We almost ran out of trees during the Great War so after that Prime made a strict rule of not destroying organic materials."

"And that includes you," Prowl steps in, his mannerism a bit more aggressive.  "We'll follow protocol and keep you alive in the meanwhile but you'll have to prove your worth."

"But–"

You wanted to say something. It's not like you didn't want to work but you were pretty much pregnant and unable to move much or fast if required.

"Great!" Jazz interrupts.  "Don't worry, Prowl, I'll take care of it!"

.

.

.

"I've been doing this for hours!" you say as you end up drenched in Energon and carrying leaves and bugs, pulled out of some Autobot's gears. "Can I at least talk to Ratchet? Or Arcee?"

    You ended up in a hangar. What kind? You weren't sure enough. A medical one probably. At least that's what you assumed by seeing so many Autobots with scratches and missing parts. It was quite gruesome. You had many questions. Was the war against the Decepticons still going on?

"How do you know those names? Are you friends with them?"

    Jazz asks and his very evident obliviousness angers you. You didn't expect him to know but that's what you've been trying to tell and explain but he or anyone just wouldn't listen.

    You wanted to scream, to tell him that he is an idiot and demand that you see Optimus right this moment.

But instead, you just sighed and sat down on the enormous berth under you.

"I want to rest," you say. "I am hungry."

"No resting, you still have many bots in line waiting to get their gears clean."

    Prowl looks at you. He didn't scare you but you know that he will make you do your job no matter the circumstances ... unless ...

"I am carrying a Sparkling," you tell them, rubbing your belly. "I am feeling really weak ... I think I need Energon."

    Prowl and Jazz look at you then at each other. The Autobot with a blue visor starts laughing like crazy while the more serious Autobot just looks away, hiding his evident smirk on his faceplate. Feeling more frustrated, embarrassed and tired, you cross your arms in front of your chest and avoid eye contact.

"You are such a funny human!" Jazz puts his face closer to yours, your entire being seemed to be a joke to him.  "A Sparkling? Cybertron hasn't had a single Sparkling, even way before  Prime lost the Matrix of Leadership."

    Your heart stops. For a brief moment just to beat faster than usual.

"... What?" you shake your head, not believing completely what Jazz had said. It must all be a product of your imagination.  "What do you mean he lost the Matrix of Leadership?"

"Well, it was to be expected since he annihilated all the Deceptions during the Great War," he continues, as he considers this information to be common history. "I wasn't there for most part but I heard Prime offline and punished anyone who dared speak against him."

"Optimus ... Killed Decepticons?"

    Suddenly, you feel a pain in your stomach, making your legs weak. You lose balance and fall on the large bert underneath you.

"Jazz–" Prowl notices your sudden change and tries to interrupt the talking bot. But not only that, you had called Nemesis by his old name.

    Prowl had heard the stories from others. From Ratchet mostly who only spoke of the matter once. The day he had arrived on Earth, Optimus was no longer a Prime. Having lost composure and killed mercilessly, Primus no longer considered him worthy. Prowl didn't remember Optimus being like that. He had wondered what had occurred for the Prime to lose all honor.    

And after insisting and insisting, Ratchet only said one thing to him.

"The things they did to them ... I can't blame Nemesis for doing what he did but ..."

"He is so scary but kinda weird too," Jazz didn't seem to be hearing Prowl nor seemed to care about your well-being.  "He demanded that every building in Iacon be so tall that the sky will be impossible to see at night because apparently he hates looking at the stars."

    Prowl just stays quiet, watching your reaction to his words. Looking for any hints that would tell him that he is going crazy. That his intuition is playing a joke on him. Because it can't be. Not. It can't.

"Without mentioning he didn't care that the war would make Earth inhabitable for humans."

"Earth?" you look up as breathing becomes difficult, your stomach pulsating as the pain increases. "But this is Cybertron, isn't it?"

"It's the New Cybertron, it used to be called Earth."

"No, no, he wouldn't–" your hands shake. You look around, trying to look for another human being. For any single indication that you are not alone. But there's nothing. The last trail of organic forms are not even human but trees. "What did you do to my home?"

"Your home?" Jazz's faceplate is still close, there is a cocky smile. Even devilish, as if he enjoyed watching you in distress.  "It's ours now."

"Jazz!" Prowl finally pushes him away. He gets closer to you, looking more gentle, and more curious about your being. "What is your name, little one?"

"My name is," you struggle to keep your eyes closed. The pain was too much and your body was beginning to give up. Tired, hungry, just trying to survive."My name is (Y/N)"

    And you slowly close your eyes and drift into slumber. Or that's what Prowl thought as he studies your body, it doesn't look like you were sustaining any injuries However, it seems you were low on energy. Maybe you were right, you did need Energon.

"Contact Nemesis Prime. Immediately."     Prowl says, without looking at Jazz who stood behind him.

"I don't think we should bother him–"

"Now."

    Prowl voice becomes heavy and louder. That's when Jazz knew it was his time to stop playing around.

"As you command."

    Prowl hears Jazz walk away. Meanwhile, his optics are still on you, his processor, playing memories of a conversation he shouldn't have heard of Ratchet talking to himself.

"If you saw Optimus right now, (Y/N), ... Would you still love him?"

.

.

.

    A beeping sound wakes you up and you wish for everything that's sacred that you have returned to your dimension. That everything was a nightmare. That you are back in the loving servos of Optimus. Your Optimus. Not the one Jazz and  Prowl told you about. You can't fathom it. An Optimus that was capable of doing such things–

"Nemesis Prime will be coming soon."

    You hear a familiar voice and quickly turn your head. There you notice a big figure, white and red. Typing on a data screen, keeping his optics on your vital signs.

"If I were you, I would be ready to answer any questions he might have."

    You let out a heavy sigh, relieved to see a familiar face. But Ratchet looks tired. As if the years have already weighed on him. As he walks towards you, his gears can be heard. His joints do not move as smoothly as he used to. His pace is slower and you get the need to stand up and help him sit down.

"Ratchet–"

    He raises a servo, making a sign to you to stop talking.

Closing his eyes, he doesn't dare to look at you as if your mere presence was painful to him.

"Just ... Where," his voice glitches . "... Where were you?"

    You wanted to say something. Everything that you've been holding these past hours and yet nothing would come out of your lips.

"I ... I am not ... from here," you managed to murmur words that may not be loud enough for him to hear. "It was a mistake–"

"You died!" Ratchet screams and it's the only time you have ever heard him do so. "And you say it's a mistake?"

    Your heart beats faster than your mind can formulate questions, especially about what he just said. His optics show a kind of anger, the kind you never thought would come out of him. Ones that used to be so gentle, kind and now there is nothing but pain.

    The doors of the hangar open.

Revealing bots in arms, stepping aside to leave enough space for him to walk through.

    It looked like Optimus to you.

Yet there was something different about him that made you feel eerie. A tall and strong figure. His known blue and red colors were no longer present. Instead it was just grey and black metal. Yellow, empty, eyes and a battle mask. One that he would not put away.

"Status?"

    He simply asks and Ratchet doesn't look him in the eyes.

"She's organic," Ratchet says, his voice softer, delicate. "At first, I thought she might be a creation of the opposite faction ... But she's carrying a Sparkling."

    You didn't know if anyone else noticed but Optimus servo twitched just a little.

"Does ..." Nemesis struggles and this was the first time in a very long time Ratchet sees Nemesis hesitate. "Does the electromagnetic frequencies match my own?"

"... Affirmative."

    He doesn't move, yet his optics are on you. Studying you, watching your movements. And for a small second. Just for a very, very small moment ... you see his gaze soften.

"Leave us, at once."

    The bots by the door follow orders immediately while Ratchet takes a few more seconds to look at Nemesis. Only to leave, the door automatically closes behind him. Leaving you and a bot that looks like Optimus, alone.

    There is an indescribable silence. As he stands tall and intimidating. He waits for a few seconds before bending half of his body and his faceplate, once again close to you. His optics do not blink as if he was afraid you would disappear if he takes his optics away from you for a second.

    You know he won't harm you, if he wanted to he would have done so a very long time ago. Instead it's as if he is waiting for you to do something.

    But as you move closer, he flinches away.

That doesn't stop you. Reaching out a hand, you slowly make your way to him. This time, more brave, more courageous.

    You touch his battle mask and only after feeling your warmth, he allows himself to close his optics. Baskin and indulging himself in the feeling. And although you couldn't see his entire face, his yellow optics were expressive enough to let you know it's been a while.

A very, very, long time since he felt some sort of kindness.

    Under his bright yellow optics, you feel a cold emitting from him. Running down your spine, your body immediately shivers. The entire room is cold but he is more so.

    He notices this and he immediately puts a digit over his comm-link.

"Jetfire, collect human objects and build a small resting place. Round and soft items take priority."

A few seconds passed until a response was heard from the other side.

"Understood."

    The Prime stopped his previous actions only for his optics to find you once again. He puts a servo next to you and waits. You aren't sure what he wants you to do but you assumed he wanted some sort of interaction.

But you are uncertain.

You were about to reach out a hand. But he moves away. Walking backwards as if he was afraid.

Would he ever say something? Or was he waiting for you to start the conversation?

    But before you could say a word, Nemesis walks out of the medic room, leaving you with more questions than answers.

.

.

.

A robot named Jetfire escorted you to Prime's private quarters. A building with a strange shape that humanity could have never thought of. Yet beautiful in its own uniqueness.

But the inside was cold and uncomfortable. Sharp edges and things spread out, monochrome colors. When you talked to Optimus about having a home, he often would say he would enjoy soft things. Round things. Small and cozy. Not ... whatever this was.

"Prime will be arriving soon. I suggest you," Jetfire puts you down on a table and looks at you. His optics looks up and down. "Become big."

"...Big?" you asked him, confusion clear in your voice.

"Our size?"

"This is as big as I get."

"Then how did that happen?" Jetfire points at your belly as your put your hands on top of it in an overprotective manner.

" Well um, he Mass-shifted," you simply say, not wanting to go into details. "Do I need to be more specific?"

"He ... Mass-shifted?"

"Isn't that something Cybertronians can do?"

"Yes but doing so is a sign of weakness. Vulnerability ... To think Prime would ever do that," he makes a pause. "And for a human ... It's strange."

    You don't think he has ever seen a human before. But you don't like the judging look on his optics. It's as if he was curious, however, wanting to know more of you but didn't know how to properly ask or if he could.

"... How was he?"

    The question took you by surprise.

"What?"

"How was he ... before all of this?"

    He was asking about Optimus and although the question surprised you, you didn't mind answering.

"Kind,"

    You responded.

His optics became wider and he tilted his head in confusion. He looked as if the words 'kind' and 'optimus' didn't go together. Yet, there was some bewilderment.

"And what else–"

"Jetfire,"

    The doors of the corridor open, announcing a new presence in the room. He is intimidating and Jetfire quickly adverts his optics, not wanting to see his faceplate.

    Everytime Prime speaks he doesn't direct a word to you. This made you impatient as you wanted to say more. You didn't like this place. You wanted to go home and back to Optimus. He must be worried. And Nemesis was your only chance but he didn't seem the type to want to listen to anyone.

"You are dismissed."

    Nemesis walks past him and walks towards you. His servos at the back, making you unable to see them.

"I'll wait for your next command," with that, Jetfire simply makes his way to the metallic sliding doors but as he turns around to leave, he catches a glimpse of Nemesis' back. Leaving him more concerned and surprised than ever.

The doors close.

Leaving you alone with Nemesis and you didn't know what to say. How to start? Should you say that you are not from this dimension? That you want to go home? There's people waiting for you, worried about your well being.

    Yet nothing would come out. Maybe because deep down ... You are scared of him.

And the feeling is so surreal. Nemesis looks exactly like Optimus. But he is not. No matter how much you wished for it to be so.

"Umm, hello?" your mouth quickly goes dry as you notice his optics' expression quickly change as you speak. "My name is (y/n)."

    What a stupid way to start a conversation, you thought. Your mind couldn't understand that the giant robot in front of you was still too stunned by your presence to say a word. The fact that he never took off his battle-mask wasn't helping either.

"I am not from here. It was an accident, a groundbridge explosion and–"

    But before you could explain further, a closed servo reaches out to you. So quickly, so fast that it startled you, making you move back a few steps.

Nemesis moves his other servo behind you, to prevent you from falling and as he feels you once again, he quickly removes that servo back.

    You could hear his vents. Louder and louder as you just look at him. His every action, a mystery to you.

He opens the other servo, and on it, lying on the middle of his palm, is a sunflower.

    It is dying, the petals slowly falling.

"For me?" you ask and he moves his helm up and down in a nodding gesture. You walk towards his servo, make your way up and pick up the flower. But you feel something else. Underneath your feet, Nemesis' servo trembles.

    And you don't need to see his entire faceplate to know what he feels. His optics told you everything.

There's pain. So much of it.

    You wonder of the things he had gone through to have changed this much. You wanted to know it all. Of everything. To listen to him and know his sorrows, to share the burden of his sins.

You make your way down his servo and you are tempted to ask him to mass-shift. So you could hold him properly. Listen to him, give him the care he needs.

But ... It doesn't feel right.

"Thank you, I–"

    But he turns and walks away. Leaving you once again alone and baffled.

Without you noticing, he extended his servo and clutched it one again into a fist, trembling and so strong he thought he might break it. Trying to suppress all his feelings he couldn't tell you just yet.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Previous>

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/773493337592332288/counting-stars?source=share

Next (Special Chapter) :

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/776307984290725888/counting-stars?source=share

[melyzard]

The World is Amazing, Actually (Part 11 or 12, I lost count)

It's been awhile since I made a post about how fucking rad the world actually is, and amidst all the pandemics and climate change and economic troubles, I felt the need.

So:

Today’s Wild Place (The Earth is An Alien Planet):

The Danakil Depression, Ethiopia:

The Danakil Depression is probably the closest you'll ever be able to come to standing on the surface of Venus (without the crushing atmosphere, of course). Choking sulphuric acid and chlorine gases fill the air, while acid ponds and geysers pepper the landscape. 

- Daisy Dobrijevic, published July 4, 2022

(BTW scientists recently discovered microbes capable of surviving in this toxic, extremely hot environment, which means...well, even if we kick the bucket, life will continue. There's something comforting in knowing that no matter how bad we screw up...life will go on.)

Today’s Incredible Feat of Engineering (look! at what! we made!):

Ouarzazate Solar Power Station in Morocco, which has gone solar in a big way.

(Which means they are making a huge contribution to helping fight toxic pollution, noise pollution, water use, land destruction, and carbon emissions. No really, there are charts. Reducing carbon emissions charts. Reducing irresponsible land use charts. Charts! Graphs! Data samples!)

Today’s Cool Life Form (the rare, the weird, the beautiful):

The Hispaniolan Solenodon.

A very rare, nocturnal, shrew-like creature that is one of the few mammals able to produce venom. Look at him! Look at his snout! He's just a little guy! He will bite you and run away on his back legs! He's rare, and endangered, but not gone! Not gone yet, bitches!

(Bonus: 10 Fun Facts About the Solenodon)

Today’s Bizarre Mystery (no, seriously, wtf?):

The Great Unconformity.

Hey, remember the Grand Canyon? Remember how we can see the passage of time through each layer, going back hundreds of thousands of years?

Did you know that apparently, on this massive record of earth's geological history, there's a chunk of time missing? Science has some hypotheses about how and why this happens (and yes, it's been found in more than one place), but they are really only hypotheses, and no one's really sure what happened to, oh, 1.6 billion years, give or take.

Today’s Act of Humanity (yes, we are worth the effort):

After fleeing a war, Ukrainians rush to help Mississippi tornado victims.

"They made the 16-hour drive south to donate bottled water and volunteer with aid workers, buoyed by the idea that they could help a community facing a similar struggle to theirs.

“We had to leave our home,” Pavliuk told The Washington Post in Ukrainian, in an interview interpreted by Hrebenyk. “And they don’t have a place to go back, either.”"

NEW CATEGORY:

Today's Good News About The Future (No, It's Not Too Late and Anyone Who Says Otherwise is Selling Something):

The Saiga Antelope, a species critical to the continued survival of huge swathes of grassland, that in 2003 was down to 6% of it's population and already extinct in it's natural habitat of China and Ukraine, has rebounded back to almost 2 million strong thanks to conservation efforts.

Previous | Next

[corinthianism]

DON'T THEY KNOW? (IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD) || BENEDICT BRIDGERTON (1)

pairing: benedict bridgerton/fem!reader additional tags: zombie apocalypse au, graphic depictions of gore/violence, fluff, angst, biology stuff i just made up so it's probs super inaccurate lol, slow burn, friends to lovers summary: ravaged by a relentless virus, the world as you knew it falls into ruin. survivors are hardened by the blood on their hands and the horrors in their minds. amidst the end of everything, benedict proves that there is still hope, and perhaps something more, for the two of you. word count: 6.4k

author's note: welcome to the first part of my new zombie au series with our boy benedict! for those who don't know, this is based entirely on the fic "i'll be seeing you" by @eleanor-bradstreet! thanks again to them for letting me vomit up this fic based on their incredible one <333 anyway, this chapter is mostly exposition, so most of the benedict/you romance will really start in the succeeding parts. hopefully, you find this chapter interesting enough to stick around! (+for readers of my dean winchester series, don't worry! chapter 3 will come out soon!)

masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 | next chapter

CHAPTER ONE: HERE, IN THE END

The world had been so loud before.

The droning noise of traffic. Of the intermingling of a thousand phone calls, nestled in between cheeks and shoulders. Of people talking at each other, screaming over each other, fighting to get the final say in even the tiniest little thing. Everything blurred together into one great ocean of sound. You could drown in it, especially in the big cities.

You were right in the middle of it all: a drifter. It took a while but eventually, that ocean of sound became your home. You struggled to recall what it was like before that. That too, was blurry now along with everything else from Before. All you had now were fading fragments of a dream to be someone. Anyone.

That was how you met him, just before the beginning of the end. You still weren’t convinced that Benedict Bridgerton wasn’t some kind of romance novel character come to life; a talented artist from a long line of English nobility, and the first friend you ever made in New York. It was like something out of a crappy Hallmark movie. He laughed at your reaction upon learning that his brother was an actual viscount and that Benedict himself technically should be referred to as ��the Honourable Benedict Bridgerton”, but despite all the grandeur that came with his heritage, Benedict was still… Benedict. In time, he became just Ben. He’d paint while you ranted about your borderline dangerous work hours or how your parents were bugging you to settle down. In turn, he shared with you his frustrations as an artist trying to make it in the world, without his family name, and how at the same time he missed his mother’s cooking. Conversations with him were always lovely, like breathing in the air in the middle of a field of flowers after a decade of being locked inside a dark, stuffy room. He was just like you. Just trying to be someone.

But those conversations all seemed so far away now. If you had known then what would become of your life, of those dreams to be someone, maybe you would’ve just let yourself drown in that ocean of sound. 

It only took two weeks for the world to fall into ruin. Only fourteen days for everything to go up in flames. 

The virus was ruthless. The most efficient killer the likes of which no one had ever seen. A terrifying force of nature seemingly tailored for the extinction of humanity. You were right in the middle of it all. You saw it with your own eyes, a cluster of people beginning to form in Times Square. With New York being New York, you thought nothing of it. You walked away none the wiser.

Until you heard someone scream, a gut-wrenching, visceral scream, followed by a sound you would never forget. A sound you’d have to hear over and over again for the better part of the next ten years, though you didn’t know it yet at the time: teeth ripping flesh from bone and the primal snarls accompanying it that couldn’t have been anything except inhuman. Monstrous, even. It sent ripples into the great big ocean you called home, altering it so permanently just seconds before you even realized what was happening. 

Sound, quickly followed by sight. 

The people huddled on the outer edges of the crowd ran off in terror, revealing the gruesome remains of what used to be a person. Even that was something you barely registered at first, eyes too focused on the bloody mouths feasting on it and white, foggy eyes. One of those things stopped its chewing, head snapping up suddenly. It sniffed the air for a while, as if sensing your fear even from twenty feet away. Those white eyes were looking at you now. Staring you down. Seconds later, the corpse being eaten started writhing back to life, or a perverted version of it. Its jaw was skewed, perpetually stuck wide open as drool and blood ran down its chin. You weren’t someone then. If your body hadn’t gone into autopilot, legs taking you as far away as they could, you would’ve been one of them. That was the very first day of what would be the longest two weeks of your life. You remembered it well.

There was no time to think or breathe. Even when your chest hurt from overexerting yourself and your lungs screamed for a break, you ran. You ran as fast as you could, crashing into people, some of which were still unaware of the horrors spreading just a block away from them. In the corner of your eyes, you knew that there were others like you, scrambling to go home, to go anywhere but here. Cars stopped in the middle of the road, curiosity killing the cat as drivers left their vehicles to see what was going on, only to be met with the same sight you were: death. In only a few minutes, nearly a third of the people on the streets were running, too. 

A little girl cried in her father’s arms, a teddy bear left behind and forgotten on the cement road as they also tried to get away. The realization dawning on the faces of onlookers that they should be doing the same. 

You reached your apartment building, not really knowing what you would do next, just that you needed to get away. The hallways were empty. A part of you hoped Ben was far, far away from here. A more selfish part of you hoped otherwise.

Supplies. You needed supplies. Food, clothes, water. Emergency kit, tools, weapons. Weapons. You had no fucking idea what to do with any of this! Just yesterday, you held a steady, if not miserable, office job. Today, you had to survive against whatever-the-hell those things were and perhaps even other people. The weight of that sudden realization twisted your guts in a sickening way, enough to make you almost throw up.

Peeking through your blinds, there were already three or four ambulances rushing to the direction of Times Square.Those things were not here yet and still, you naively hoped that help would come and dispatch of them before it got out of control. 

You barely noticed the sweat that began to trickle down your forehead and back, hairs raising out of instinct. Your whole body was going into overdrive, hyper-aware of the fact that you were in danger. 

The rapid knocking on your door nearly frightened you to death, until you heard Ben’s desperate calls of your name. Out of breath and scared… much like you. You wondered if he had seen it, too. When you confirmed through the peephole that it was, in fact, him, you dragged him inside your apartment. Your hands were on his face as soon as he was inside, needing to know that he was here, he was with you, he was alive. It seemed he had the same need, icy blue eyes taking you in with such an intensity you’d only ever seen when he was painting. It was easy to feel small under his gaze.

“Are you alright?” he breathed heavily, larger hands covering your own. 

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat, “Did you- did you see-”

“I saw them,” he said, his composure faltering for a split second. “I saw them.”

You could hear more sirens outside, one after another, disrupting the ocean you had grown so familiar with. Louder and louder. 

“We need to leave, get out of New York,” he ran a hand through his hair, eyes moving wildly as he tried to come up with a plan. It was the Bridgerton in him: the bravery of his father, the gentleness of his mother. It didn’t need to be said out loud that the moment he saw those things, all he could think of was you. Getting to you and getting you safe. His only true friend in this city. It took all of fifteen minutes before you were out the door, nearly overwhelmed by the swarm of people all running away from Times Square. Ben held your hand tightly, and you did your best not to look behind you.

The sun was beginning to set, wrapping the city in a bright orange light. It felt ominous somehow, so unlike every other time you’d seen it. Like this was some form of judgment. As if at any moment, you’d hear the seven trumpets telling you that this was the end. You learned later on that you weren’t the only one that thought that. Bile threatened to rise in your throat when the shadows of night grew with each passing second. It felt like it was going to swallow you alive.

The road was packed full of people, crying and yelling and praying for salvation. Ants begging to get away from the magnifying glass only to be burned anyway.

The screams grew louder and against your better judgment, you looked back. You were too far away to see everything clearly, and because Ben was constantly pulling you forward, but you could make out the smaller swarm of walking corpses slowly coming into view. The poor souls who weren’t able to keep up with the main crowd were dragged away to be bitten, spreading the godforsaken disease. More and more bodies littered the streets, staining the concrete with the blood of dozens. Then, not even a minute later, they would rise with jaws gnashing and wide white eyes, their humanity lost forever.

Your legs felt so heavy, as did the rest of you. If it weren’t for Ben’s ferocious determination to get out of the city and to keep the both of you safe, you wouldn’t have survived that first day at all. Helicopters flew above and across the city, the whooshing of its blades mingling with the screams. The ocean of sound was threatening to drown you. You didn’t look up anymore. It would’ve shattered you if you had, because you knew there weren’t nearly enough choppers to save everyone in the city. It was impossible. Your heart broke for all the people, all the someones, who were dead long before they could even fight for the chance to live.

The sky was dark now.

By some miracle, you reached the army’s barricade. Soldiers ushered people to safety, including you and Ben. You squeezed his hand, causing him to look at you for a moment. A temporary reprieve from that day’s horrors. His fair skin was shiny with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead like black tendrils. It was like everything slowed down, but maybe it was all just in your head. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. The moment was cut short when you heard an explosion from behind you. Your head snapped to the direction of the noise, so did Ben’s, and the “small swarm” of the undead from before had multiplied to thrice its size in the short few minutes you spent running away. 

Gunfire rang in your ears once the monsters got a little too close for the army’s liking, but the crowds of the living and the undead had already begun to mix by that point. Bullets meant to pierce rotting flesh ended up killing people who were very much alive and uninfected. You could only watch, from behind the barricade of soldiers, the people in the perpetually moving crowd who would stop once they realized their loved ones were no longer beside them. You could only watch when the body of a child (belonging to the same little girl you saw earlier that day, you realized grimly) was forcefully torn from the arms of her father when a soldier spotted the bite mark on her leg, bleeding and angry. Her plump, tear-stained cheeks that were once symbols of her youth and innocence were ruined by a sickly green that rose to the surface, emphasizing violet veins that always looked like it was crawling, spreading just underneath the skin. Then, she was one of them. Writhing, bones cracking. There was no recognition in her cloudy eyes when her father begged for his baby girl to come back to him. 

Ben held you tighter, his hand cradling your head as the other soldiers evacuated as many people as they could.

“We need to go,” he pleaded, still firmly holding on to you as you were both pushed around by the crowd. “Please, love, just look at me.”

So you did. Those eyes, brilliant and blue and full of worry, were the only things that pulled you back down to Earth. Tears were shed and prayers were whispered on the chopper that whisked you away from New York. A couple hundred feet into the air, you could see the city crumble. You remembered briefly wondering how many bodies were left behind or how many turned into one of those things.  

Everything changed in those first fourteen days of the Outbreak. Eighty percent of the world’s population had been wiped out, unprepared to face a force so vicious. That was how effective the virus was, which was later dubbed the “Gaia Virus”. Mother Nature’s wrath.

The survivors in the States were brought to “safe zones” all over the country, areas barren and isolated enough that the Infected, which mostly stayed in the previously overpopulated cities and towns, were unlikely to get to them. The first few months after the Outbreak were spent being transferred to different safe zones, never staying for more than a week at a time.  

At first, the safe zones were supposed to be a temporary refuge for survivors. The government, or what was left of it, promised to reclaim the cities within a year and make them habitable again. Then a year passed, and they said it would take them another year. So another year passed and they said the same thing. Over and over until… radio silence. No one brought it up again. The few who did were not treated kindly by the rest of the survivors. 

Most people caught onto the memo fairly quickly, with soldiers and generals making up the new leadership hierarchy of the safe zones in place of politicians and peacemakers: you keep your head down, you do as you’re told, and you’ll get food and water and blankets.

The people brave (or stupid) enough to make a scene were never heard from again by the next week.

So there you were, moving across the country, going from state to state and living off of food rations and hope. Both were two resources that were steadily depleting. Benedict was there with you through it all, your steadfast companion. Conversations about surrealism and horrible bosses turned into questions about whether or not your friends and families were safe, if they had made it to the safe zones. That was the first time you saw him cry, not able to withstand the possibility that his beloved mother and siblings were gone, perhaps now part of the Infected. Even if they survived, he knew there was a slim chance he would ever see them again. He cursed himself sometimes, him and his foolish need to be someone. If he had stayed in Kent, if he just settled down like his brothers, perhaps he would still be with them today. But his mother was the kindest woman he had ever known and he knew deep down that she forgave him long before he realized what he’d done. He knew they all did.

Grief was your (and Ben’s) constant state of being. It weighed you down on most days, making your feet dig deeper into the dirt when you walked. On some days, it was all-consuming. It was the only reason most survivors rarely caused any trouble. As horrible as humans could be to each other, this shared grief that echoed through the hearts of everyone was translated into little acts of kindness that, at the best of times, were life-saving. To be given a drop of water by a woman dying of thirst. To be offered a piece of bread by a man whose stomach rumbled louder than his voice. More often than not, it was always the eldest survivors that did this. Perhaps it was because they knew that they had already lived long, fulfilling lives. Perhaps it was because they knew Death was already at their door, so they might as well help someone else live.

Of course, there would always be people looking out for themselves, you and Ben had expected that from the get go, but it still surprised you how much compassion a person could still have at the end of the world. It didn’t happen too often though, but the times that it did were memories you held close to your heart.

The days went by, often cruel and unforgiving to those who couldn’t adjust to the new reality, but Ben still found ways to make you smile. 

“It’s the artist in me,” he said to you one night, three years after the Outbreak, when you had asked him how he could bear to still be so… him. There was a secluded spot you two often escaped to whenever there was a need for it, a small cliff at the edge of the safe zone. You were both slightly tipsy from whiskey you traded some radio parts for. “The whole world’s gone to shit and I can’t help but still find it somewhat beautiful. It’s like a movie, isn’t it? Two friends at the end of the world— and besides, what else are we supposed to do? Wallow in self-pity? I think you and I do enough of that.”

The sun was beginning to set, something you had grown to dislike since that first day. You decided to lie down for a moment, uncaring if bits of soil got in your hair. You closed your eyes, trying to just be. You didn’t always get the opportunity to do that anymore.

“Look,” he nudged your side after a while, his accent slurring a little as he pointed at something. You raised a brow at him, now-open eyes following what his finger was pointing at. The sky. It was pitch black, but a splash of stars covered the heavens like a mural. You had never seen that many stars before, certainly not in the cities you’d lived in your whole life. Ben sighed and your attention was back on him. “You couldn’t see them as clearly back home, but I used to stargaze often with my siblings.”

“That sounds lovely,” you whispered.

“It was.”

The two of you were silent for a while, just sitting on that patch of dirt, overlooking the vast lands that spread as far as the eye can see. That was how isolated these safe zones were. The gentle night breeze tickled your skin. 

“I haven’t really looked at the sky properly since the Outbreak,” you confessed, slumping in your seat. “I think it makes me feel small. And sad. Look at us. Our tiny little planet, how fucked up everything is. Look at us. And there’s a whole universe out there that’s completely indifferent to everything that goes on down here.”

“It’s humbling,” he hummed in understanding. “To be a speck in a great big universe yet feeling a whole universe worth of emotion.”

“That’s good,” you chuckled. “Very poetic.”

He grinned at you, cheeks flushed slightly, “I try.”

Another bout of silence.

“Thank you, by the way.” 

“Whatever for, love?” he raised a brow in curiosity, his tone soft. It always was.

“For being here,” you took a deep breath. “For sticking around.”

His smile shone brighter when he heard this, his hand finding its way around yours. “You’d be mad to think I’d ever leave you here. If anything, you’re stuck with me. I’m just—” he cleared his throat. “I’m just sorry that… that it has to be like this. Drifting, never staying too long in one place to be able to call it a home. You deserve more. You deserve better.”

“You say that like it’s your fault,” your hand squeezed his in hopes of bringing him some comfort. “I’m not gonna lie and say we’re doing alright because we honestly look like shit”—that earned you a hearty chuckle from him—”but we’re doing better than most. And that’s because we’ve had each other all this time. That’s one of the things I was thanking you for. None of this on you, Ben. You deserve more, too. You hear me?”

He straightened his back and flashed you a soft smile, “I hear you.”

The two of you looked back up at the sky, admiring the twinkling of millions of stars. You were somewhere in Arizona, according to the other survivors. Soldiers kept the exact location under lock and key to dissuade survivors from sharing it with others who were still out in the open world. There just wasn’t enough room. But you had a feeling that it had more to do with the risk of attracting Infected. Limited armada and manpower meant the military was just unable to handle that kind of scenario.

You learned more about the Infected over time, having worked odd jobs for the military for more food, water, or supplies. Even something as simple as filtration duty on Tuesdays earned you tidbits of information.

From what you could piece together in the past couple of years, the Gaia Virus most likely came from melting glaciers and ice caps, triggered by global warming. It polluted bodies of water across the world, eventually making its way into reservoirs undetected. It was the perfect way to spread. Nobody can last more than three days without water, so the virus made sure no one would last at all. Once fully turned, Infected were nearly perfect killers. Soldiers sometimes told stories of their encounters with them. They were completely blind, though that much was obvious from the milkiness of their eyes. Infected also didn’t react to any physical damage done to them. Whether or not they felt it was a different story. With possibly two of their senses out of the picture, the rest were heightened. They could hear and smell better than people. If prey were close enough, all those things had to do was follow the scent trail. The fact that these monsters could perceive things humans could barely register was a terrifying thought.

Bodies of Infected retrieved from the destroyed cities were studied, Ben himself had seen this on one such odd job. The virus kills its host before taking over the body, this much was known. However, the brain was shown to endure, preventing the more advanced stages of decomposition. It raised questions about whether or not hosts really died, or if a tiny part of them still lived on even as they transformed into flesh-eating beasts. You’ve heard whispers that it was more like the brain sent constant streams of adrenaline even after death, keeping the body going long after it was supposed to fall apart and rot. True or not, it was the only explanation you had.

You’d seen your fair share of people who’ve fallen victim to a bite; doomed to have their life snuffed out as soon as that was discovered, whether that was by execution or dying to the virus. 

The time it took to die after being bitten was different for everyone. Some died within minutes, others within hours. The longest one you’d seen was a soldier brought back to the Detroit safe zone after a patrol gone wrong. A stray Infected had sensed him and attacked him during the night, leaving a massive bite on his shoulder. He fought so fiercely against the symptoms of the fever, hovering between life and death for nearly an entire day before finally succumbing to the virus. You couldn’t forget how pale he was when he was wheeled into the makeshift camp on a gurney, watching the life be drained out of him in real time. He was shot in the head by his comrades as soon as he turned. The event shook everyone. The disappearances began shortly after that.

The people who spoke up against the military drew the ire of everyone: the military didn’t tolerate people who questioned their authority and everyone else just wanted to mind their own business. When these undesirables began to disappear, everyone chalked it up to them just being hard-headed. The popular theory was they got sick of the military’s iron grip and decided to leave the safe zone, and then probably died. Nobody took it too seriously. Nobody could have done anything about it anyway. Everyone was just focused on staying alive. 

Cooper was another survivor in the Arizona safe zone. You and Ben had been there for a month, and he was the first and only person to welcome you with open arms. He was a lanky man, and had blond hair and kind, brown eyes. Only a few years younger than you. He was the jovial type, often inviting you and Ben to tag along with him on whatever job he found earlier that day. His Boston accent was unmistakable, often getting stronger when offered liquor. 

He was also in strong opposition to the militant lifestyle in the safe zones, though he knew better than to broadcast his distaste. Cooper joined you and Ben on the night the two of you were stargazing, eyes wide in terror. You had never seen him like that before. He was always one to stay optimistic, which was a wonder considering the state of the world. Cooper looked like he ran to get to you, his damp tattered shirt sticking to his body.

He grabbed you by your shoulders, fingertips digging into your skin deep enough to make you wince all while a jumble of words were frantically spewing out of his mouth. Ben immediately got up, nearly growling at Cooper for hurting you, “Get your hands off them.”

It seemed as though Ben’s warning briefly snapped Cooper back to reality, because the man did pull away but his hands still trembled violently.

“What’s wrong?” you furrowed your brows in worry, unused to seeing Cooper in such a state.

“You need to get out of here,” it felt like there was something darker lingering behind his words. He looked at Ben. “You need to go.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Ben cut him off, his protectiveness from before calming down when he finally noticed the genuine panic and fear in Cooper’s eyes. “Tell us what’s happening.”

The poor man looked like he was ready to explode right then and there. He was practically soaked in his own sweat, both from the exhaustion of running to get to you and Ben, and the shock of the news he brought, it seemed.

“They were taking them,” he choked back tears, his feet stuck to the ground. His nostrils were flaring from how hard he was breathing.

“Who, Coop? Who’s taking who?” this time it was your hands on his shoulders, though your touch was gentle, trying to keep him grounded. 

“The soldiers,” he whispered, his voice grim. “We- we thought they were executing them for questioning the army but I saw them! I saw them. In the big tent. They’re trying… they’re trying to make a vaccine.”

The severity of his tone reminded you all too much of Ben at your doorstep on that very first day of the Outbreak.

Ben’s surprise was palpable, “What?”

“A vaccine,” Cooper stressed, each breath he drew was ragged (you could hear it from how close he was standing to you), “but it’s not working. I saw the bodies. Whatever they’re doing, it’s torture— you should’ve seen them. They infected them on purpose.”

Your blood went cold, like liquid nitrogen shocking your system. That’s what the army had been doing all this time?  It made perfect sense, but the new information flooded your brain with images of those people who went missing, strapped to a table, and being injected with the virus. If they were trying to make a vaccine, they—the test subjects—would have to have been kept alive for as long as possible, conscious of the parasite invading their body. It made your stomach churn, forcing you to step back and look away. Ben was similarly devastated, jaw clenched as he stared at Cooper. He zeroed in on a different piece of information.

There were Infected in the safe zone.

“That’s… they can’t just keep taking people,” he gritted his teeth. Cooper stayed silent. Ben spoke again, firmer and more desperate this time, “...can they?”

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for you even if they did,” Cooper said, defeated. Still breathing hard. “We’re too far away. And if the rest of the safe zones aren’t already in the same situation then they aren’t gonna waste gas to go all the way here. The soldiers here can just make up something and no one would know.”

An “oh, God” left your lips, your hands shaking, mirroring Cooper’s. From where you stood, you could see the main camp and the largest tent, the main military tent, in the middle of it. You’ve walked past it, stared at it a hundred times, and never knew what was going on inside. You found yourself asking if there was a time when you stared at that tent, and just on the other side was someone just like you being experimented on with the deadliest virus known to mankind.Your eyes stung with tears when your treacherous mind thought of Ben in that position, bruised by different needles and tubes protruding from him.

“Please, you need to go,” Cooper pleaded with the two of you desperately, his head hanging low.

“Shit,” Ben cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyes with one hand in frustration. “All of our supplies are back in the main camp.” 

“You can’t go back!”

“We’ll die out there if we don’t get those supplies,” you pointed out to the blond. “We wouldn’t last a week.”

Ben had already begun to walk back to camp, masking his anxieties to the best of his abilities if what Cooper was saying was true. You weren’t that far behind, ears ringing with Cooper’s pleas not to go back. He didn’t chase after you anymore, falling silent once he realized there was nothing he could do to change your mind. It was only a short trek from the cliff back to the main camp. The outer perimeter of the safe zone was always being patrolled by soldiers which meant, without any weapons, you would’ve been dead if you tried to escape right away. A checkpoint came into view along with the two guards, Paul and Walter, holding rifles on either side of the path. You were familiar with each other from how often you passed through this checkpoint to get to the cliff.

“Paul, Walter,” Ben smiled coolly at the guards once you were finally standing in front of them. “Late shift? I thought you’d have switched with Reese by now.”

“Higher-ups needed more men in other places, so here we are,” Paul sighed, before turning his attention to you. “You guys back at the cliff again?”

“Yeah,” you mimicked Ben, feigning a smile of your own. You still weren’t completely sure if Cooper had been telling the truth, but interacting with Paul felt different now that you knew what could’ve been happening behind closed doors. “Camp can be a little too much sometimes, y’know? No offense. Just… needed to get away for a while.”

Paul nodded in understanding. 

“Okay, you know the routine,” Walter shrugged, handing you and Ben a bloodchecker each. It was a small vial full of a blue solution, connected to a thin, replaceable tube ending with a needle. The solution would turn clear if mixed with Gaia-infected blood, and a dark muddy brown if the blood was clean. You pierced your arm with the needle, watching your blood travel through the tube and drip down into the solution, turning it brown as you had expected. Glancing over at Ben’s bloodchecker, you found that his was the same. Thankfully.

You were about to pass through the checkpoint when Walter pulled Ben aside, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out, but you saw Ben’s reaction. To anyone else, it would have seemed like he didn’t react at all. Most people only would’ve noticed his polite smile and hushed ‘thank you” to the guard before returning to your side, but you saw through it: the slightest twitch of his hand and the way his lips tightened at what Walter told him. It was so clear to you that he was bothered by it, whatever it was. 

“What was that?” you asked him, trying to keep up with his fast-paced stride.

He only spared you a single glance, only a single moment of softness, but now you were inside the central safe zone. Soldiers were standing guard in every direction. There seemed to be more of them than usual. Ben continued forward to the direction of your tent which was a bit farther from everyone else’s. He kept his voice low, “Not here.”

Your shared tent with Ben was bare. The apocalypse didn’t exactly grant you a life of luxury, but that tent was yours. It stayed the same after every new safe zone you were transferred to. Next to the two worn down single mattresses were your backpacks, one of the only things you still had from before the Outbreak besides each other. While you double-checked your supplies, making sure nothing was missing while you were gone, Ben slid one of the mattresses to the side, which was sitting on top of an old rug. He pulled that aside too, his hands digging into the soil, digging and digging until finally, you could see the lid of a crate you had buried.

The crate was filled with jugs of water. Clean, pure, uninfected water. The result of three years of patiently collecting rainwater and saving up whatever the army gave you, carefully filtering each drop throughout the night when you knew no one else would be bothering you. This water was precious. It was gold. And it was a pain to move from safe zone to safe zone. You and Ben had had to resort to bribing and lying for the past three years to make sure it was safe. 

Once you were done checking over the supplies, you knelt by Ben’s side. “So… are you gonna tell me what Walter said to you or are you gonna keep being mysterious?” you tried to keep your tone light.

“They were looking for Cooper,” his gaze didn’t leave the jugs of water. His hands, once always covered in paint, were now caked in dirt. “Said we should report him if we did.”

“What?” you questioned. “That doesn’t make any sense, everyone has to go in and out of that checkpoint to get to the cliff. There’s no way Paul and Walter didn’t see him.”

“So how could he have seen all of those supposed experiments in the main tent?” he turned to face you, his expression severe. “That tent is the most heavily guarded thing in this camp. If what he said is true, then there was no way he could’ve left and not be spotted and then somehow manage to get to us without going through the checkpoint.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while, racking your brains for any sort of information that could help you get closer to solving this mystery. It was entirely plausible that Cooper had been lying about the experimentations and the vaccines but despite having only known him for a short while, you knew he wasn’t the type to do something like that. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. Hell, he was the kind of person that worked overtime during the apocalypse. He was an honest man.

Then you remembered something.

“It’s Tuesday today.”

Ben looked at you, puzzled, “Yes, it is… What’s going through your head, love?”

“Filtration duty,” you answered. “They filter out the water in the main tent…”

“...then dump the waste outside of camp,” Ben finished for you, eyes widening. “You think Cooper was in the main tent on purpose?”

“I mean, that’s the only explanation, right? Nothing else has left camp since last week and nobody checks a truck carrying waste. Maybe Cooper was on one of those trucks,” you said before looking back at Ben. “I… I thought I was just seeing things. Did you notice how he was earlier?”

“Out of breath from running…?” Ben frowned, not quite following your train of thought as easily as he usually did.

“He wasn’t just out of breath. He was smelling me.” 

You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he put the pieces together. He couldn’t quite believe the conclusion he arrived at, that much you could tell, but the disbelief washed away when no other possible explanation presented itself to him.

“How?” his voice was shaky, a quiet sort of devastation clouding his features. Cooper was likely already infected earlier, though you couldn’t tell which stage of infection he was at. The signs pointed to a peculiar middleground between the fever that occurred right before death, and the grotesque reanimation once the virus had complete control over the body.

“Maybe he was telling the truth. Part of it, at least.”

You both looked back at the jugs of water, taking out a few of the smaller containers before hurriedly placing the lid back on the crate. With the crate concealed by the soil and rug, you and Ben made quick work of gathering your things, hiding the small jugs of water underneath clothes, foods, and whatever else were in your bags. 

You always made sure to have a plan in case you ever needed to leave a safe zone. The water you collected was too valuable; you had to be able to move it whenever and wherever you needed, but with all the soldiers standing guard outside, you knew this would be impossible even with all of your planning. You just had to bring what you could.

Without uttering a word, you and Ben both knew this was the last night you were ever going to spend in this place. 

-

series taglist: comment down below if you'd like to be added!

[thecurioustale]

The "Middle West"

I was recently watching Trump speak (not something I typically do 🤢), and the most interesting thing he said had nothing to do with anything he was actually talking about: It was that he used the term Middle West to refer to that generally north-central part of the United States, centered on the Mississippi River, that is neither the South nor the Northeast (nor the Mid-Atlantic, but that's really just a subcategory of the Northeast that Northeasterns use to not get lumped in with each other).

We all know it today as the Midwest. But in times past it was much more commonly known as the Middle West.

(Tangent: It is also one of many geographical region-name reminders of our national East Coast beginnings, as America has like six different kinds of "West": the Midwest, the Southwest, the (Pacific) Northwest, the Mountain West / Interior West, the West Coast / Pacific West—and that's not counting the deprecated terms (such as "Far West," i.e. distinguished from the Midwest) or the old Northwest (which would've referred to places like Ohio and (what we know as) West Virginia)!)

Over the course of the 20th century, "Midwest" became an increasingly common form of the term, eventually overtaking "Middle West" in popularity and, by our lifetimes, completely replacing it. The only people who still use "Middle West" today are very old. I'm only aware of the term's existence because I'm a fan of midcentury media and if you go watch (for example) old Dragnet episodes from the 1950s you'll hear the term used.

I was looking at the Google Ngram Viewer to get a sense of the relative usage frequencies of these terms, and I noticed something interesting: Not only has "Middle West" been driven almost extinct from active usage, but "Midwest" itself has also declined precipitously in the 21st century. People today are not calling the Midwest the "Midwest," at least not with the frequency and relevancy they once did. I was curious if this was another permutation of the usage, so I also looked up "Midwestern" (which I included in the link above), thinking that maybe people nowadays are calling it the clunkier "the Midwestern states" / "the Midwestern US," but the adjectival has declined in step with "Midwest." It really does seem to be that people are just using this geographical category less often.

Perhaps unsurprisingly: the sociopolitical cohesiveness of the Midwest has significantly diminished over time. I think most Midwesterners would still recognize and affiliate with the term if you applied it of them to their faces, but increasingly I think many of them do not think of it in their daily lives as a personal or cultural identifier. Which has many fascinating implications that I'm not going to get into.

(Another Tangent: I feel like I've talked about specifically this "Middle West / Midwest" thing on Tumblr before, but I feel that way about half of everything because after all I've been writing down my thoughts for over 20 years and I've been having thoughts for considerably longer than that, and it's often not clear to me what I've talked about publicly and where.)

Anyway, this entire post is really just me scratching the itch of verbal brain noise about the orange guy using a term in a public address that I never hear people use in the present day. A little piece of lost language, hearkening back to a completely different era and world.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 9 : Crosshair x F!OC

It's been a bumpy ride and it's only getting bumpier as our story plunges into the depths of the pleasure planet. Our heroes are shaken and feeling a fear that runs deeper than the chasm they find themselves entombed in. As they quake from the struggles that have gripped them, deep underground, some truths may come to the surface. Is a confession still true if it's whispered in the dark?

Chapter Specific Warnings: Smut, PiV+ Cπ, skin to skin comfort, lots of talking, Crosshair slowly becoming allergic to clothing (not literal) Angst, Crying.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Authors Note: Not much going on visually this chapter, but we're back baby! Tie up some lose ends and ease you guys into the second half of this book.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Word Count: 6746

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua. She's a damsel, she's in distress- she can handle it. Murder is his love language.

<-Previous Chapter - Read On Ao3 {START HERE}

Music Inspo- Like A Prayer, Bigod 20 Cover

Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

Chapter 9: Like a Prayer

It was a bumpy trip, as we slid down through the open chasm. The headlights danced wildly as rocks caught the undercarriage with the sound of tearing mineral, tipping the speeder to free fall several meters, back end pointed down. We hit a smooth, slanted plane that crumpled the trunk compartment with a crunch of twisting metal and a painful jolt through my neck. The engine sputtered out and the headlights died as we pitched forward with a crash, sliding down the glossy slope, first with a slow shriek and then rapidly, faster and faster, we plunged further into the abyss. 

I wrestled with the handling, trying to keep us straight and away from the eerily smooth walls, but with the engine out I was steering blind without the headlights or power assist. 

Crosshair had thrown himself against my seat as we plunged through the open rock, binding me in place with strong arms thrown about me for dear life. His arms still wrapped about my chest was the only thing reassuring me he hadn't fallen out. 

I was pumping the breaks, but without the engine they were useless. The starter was clicking as I punched the button which wasn't connected anymore, I'd have to get at the wires again… not happening at this speed, even if I could see what I was doing. 

The slope sharpened into a narrow tunnel, sections collapsing behind us as our crashing vehicle destabilized the tunnel, sparks shooting off the side of the speeder as it drifted against the tight walls. 

We were slowing, gradually as the tunnel evened out. Eventually we were spat out into a wider cavern, the dragging speeder catching in the sand, finally grinding to a stop. 

Listening to the tink and clicks of the cooling engine with my eyes closed… I felt like I had gone def at the sudden absence of shrieking, sparking metal. Our heavy breathing reverberated through the cave, adding to the soft, ethereal soundscape filtering through the shock. I opened my eyes slowly, half expecting to find we hadn't actually survived that. My knuckles were white where they gripped the steering, then I looked around.

The vision that greeted me pulled a gasp from my rattled lungs. 

The cave system we came to rest in was deep… the dark enclosing rock far overhead. The stone had the same blue tinge as most Ga'haiian bedrock, though the walls had been worn to a polished shine, evidence of long extinct glacial flows. The old water channels spread in all directions from this main vein, twisting in impossible shapes. 

None of that was the remarkable part however. 

Quartz deposits, clear from years of pressure, were embedded throughout the walls of stone. Occasionally these clear patches would glow with a crackling snap of white electricity, the current arcing through the stone to resemble lightning strikes dancing along the cave systems tunnels, providing a constant, flickering light. 

“What is that?”

“It's Iotryke. A conductive kind of quartz, we landed in a vein.”

“Why's it doing… that?”

“I-I've heard it's ‘cause of the storm… lightning striking the mountains or something.”

The mundane exchange was calming our nerves… it wasn't just me that was rattled. He wouldn't let on, but I could feel the tremors in his arms binding me to the seat. 

I didn't want to think about the whiplash we'd be nursing.

He moved, tossing off his helmet before unlocking my buckle and lacing his hands under my arms, hoisting me up and over into the back with him. I fell against his chest. My legs were still caught on the back of front seat, but his arms were fixed tight, not allowing me to right myself.

…

“… you okay, Crosshair?”

“I'm sorry.”

“... For what?”

“I shouldn't have told you to run, I miscalculated,”

…

“You got me back… don't beat yourself up over it,”

His arms only tightened on me. 

“It was stupid. What if I had taken longer to get to you?”

“I would have kept stalling… look, things always seem obvious from this side of it but I assure you all those other plans going through your head could have easily gone just as wrong.”

Scrambling to loosen his grip, I shifted carefully to sit on his thighs holding his face. 

“Today it worked out, we'll learn from it tomorrow… for now, well… we're trapped in a cave,”

He looked away, trying to find his pride somewhere other than my eyes. Then his gaze flicked back to me. He cocked an eyebrow, lifting the leather jacket with a finger to scan the tan, stitched together two-piece.  

“What… exactly, are you wearing?”

I guess the nature of my dress hadn't really registered in the frenzy of the rescue. I put on a haughty tone,

“A respectful representation of our first peoples,”

“... Uh huh,”

He cupped my cheek, pulling me into a soft kiss, before resting his forehead against mine. The cold shiver in us was difficult to ignore, bringing our attention back to the shaken feeling we could sense on each other. It was more than the bumpy ride through the cave. 

I was scared… truly… truly scared.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, something breaking in me, pouring out through sudden, hot tears rolling off my cheeks to fall against his. 

Crying again… twice in one day. 

But I couldn't stop it, a slow stream of salt, muscles rigid as the day's events sank into me. 

His lips were finding each stray tear, kissing away the wet stains on my skin…

“I'm sorry… so sorry, Tahny”

I pressed hard against him, finding his mouth with mine. I needed him… I needed to not feel like this. Weak, fragile. 

“I don't need apologies,”

My hands had already started tracing the lines of his breastplate, searching for a hold to pry it off.  

His hand closed around my wandering fingers. 

“Tahny, slow down,”

“I don't want to…Crosshair, please…”

His name had become a cry of desperation on my tongue, begging for the peace I only felt with him…

He kissed me again, his gentleness in sharp contrast to my rough escapism. 

“Just slow down,”

He reached up and the breastplate came off, sliding from between us. The series of clacks echoed sharply against the acoustic stone hall, pieces of armor falling away one by one. 

I slid my hands under the hem of the tight black top as it was exposed, taking his lead, pacing myself. Just feeling his skin, his lips against mine.

More clicks, and I rolled the hem up and over, lips parting a moment as I tugged the shirt off of him. He slid the jacket from my shoulders, and started to pick at the leather knots lacing my vest closed. The article hung open as the straps were loosened from their eyelets, and I hugged tight to him again, pressing my skin against his. His warmth sunk into me, chasing the stubborn chill from my bones. 

He held me there against him, hushing sobs that were already starting to slow. 

“He really got to you, didn't he?...I should have gotten there sooner,”

I shook my head… that's all wrong.

“He shouldn't have been able to… I'm not so easily threatened, I shouldn't be scared of someone like him… somethings wrong with me,”

Why was I so shaken?

He was stroking my hair, confused and a little concerned at my rapidly swinging reactions.

…

“So you're afraid to die, I think that's normal, Tahny… you’re supposed to care what happens to you…”

I looked at him through the curtain of my hair. That was exactly it. Somewhere, somehow… I lost the sense of invincibility that came with embracing death.

“It's all your fault,”

“Excuse me?”

“Me, caring about things… it's been happening ever since you showed up,”

His lips twitched, the corners turning up briefly with a short exhale before he forced his usual serious expression, clearing his throat.  

“Is that so? What's so bad about caring?”

I groaned.

“Caring karken kriffs, Cross… it makes you want to change things you can't and have hope and all that… hopeful stuff.”

“So I… make you hopeful?”

This time he let the smirk fly, squeezing me with his usual mischievous spark glinting back at me in the flickering light.

I rolled my eyes, letting my head fall to his shoulder with a thump. 

“That is the sappiest interpretation possible,”

“You didn't say I was wrong,”

His voice purred against my ear, sending sparks down my spine. I hissed at him,

“Your foolishness is contagious.”

He lifted me, crushing his lips to mine. 

The side door thumped open, Cross kicking it wide to give us room as he angled me to lay on the firm bench seat, not letting our lips part. His hips snugged between my thighs, and I sighed, wrapping my legs about him. 

I was trailing my fingers down his back, the muscles flexing against them as Crosshair moved over me. I found the dimples of his pelvis between his hips and paused a moment, tracing the dips before sliding around front, guided by his hip bones, to unhitch his belt letting it slide to the floor. 

Lips were tracing a warm trail across my jaw, Crosshair leading himself to the sensitive spot on my neck to graze his teeth against it, making me shiver. 

“I need you, Crosshair…”

The confession was whispered in his ear, pulling a low groan of desire from the man who clamped to the tender flesh of my jugular, sucking a new mark into the skin. I tugged at his waistband, pulling his blacks down to his thighs, trying to hide the notion I might mean more than his body; not entirely sure if I was trying to fool him or myself. 

His half hard shaft fell free to lay on my belly and he pinned me like that, in no particular hurry to rush into the next step. The feeling of his hardening length pressed between us was causing a heat to rise desperately in my skin, my core. Need. 

Channeling my frustration I ran my tongue up his neck to take his earlobe in my teeth. The salt of his sweat stung my lips as I nipped him.

“Let me have you li’nen… take it slow if you must but do so inside me,”

“...the things you say.”

His voice was a smooth vibration against my skin as he continued to leave small love marks down my neck and over my collarbone, ignoring my request. I tried to reach for him but he pressed harder against me, blocking me. 

The cock in question was sliding over the thin leather of the tiny skirt and thong, making me quiver pathetically as he bit his way down to my chest, licking over a breast before sucking the nipple between his lips, teasing it with his tongue. 

I groaned at the rush of electricity through me... I wanted to disappear into the feeling. Crosshair had other ideas. 

Releasing my breast with a soft ‘pop’ he came even with me again, framing my face with his forearms to look into my eyes, pulling me back to focus with his protective posturing.

“I won't let it happen again, I promise… so you don't need to be afraid,”

You can't promise such things…

I was about to protest, but a look in his eyes caught me, bringing me to the meaning behind his words… a plead for me, needing me, to believe it… begging me to, so that he could. 

The gears in me whirred as I contemplated taking the weight of such responsibility. 

I can do that… if I want to believe you I can.

I cradled his chin in my hands, 

“Don't you dare break such a promise.”

His lips found mine with a renewed fervor, a restored sense of purpose as he slipped a hand between my legs to tug the thin strip of leather separating us aside. 

I moaned into his lips as he adjusted to press himself into my folds, coaxing his length into me, interlocking. The seat creaked as he shifted his weight to his pelvis, sinking as deep as he could. My legs snaked around his, hooking the heels of my boots around his calves. 

An ache bloomed trough my pelvis, my flesh was tender after our previous days together and I inhaled sharply at the stretching sensation. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, just a little bruised,”

“...I should have known, should I stop?”

I shook my head, pressing my cheek against his.

“Just, this once… be gentle,”

He hummed back, our arms wrapping tighter about each other as he reclaimed my lips. 

We sprawled over the backseat, entangled as he warmed himself in me, not yet moving. There was no frantic race to get as much out of this as we could, frankly, we weren't going anywhere anytime soon. 

His shooting hand cupped the back of my neck, calluses rough against my nape as his tongue dove against mine, pulling me into deeper and deeper kisses. Moans rose softly from me against his lips, letting out an occasional squeak when he'd grind his hips, sending a sudden wave of pleasure through me with the friction. 

Cross pulled his lips from me, whispers hot in my hair. 

“How long’s it been?...Since the night we picked you up?”

It was a difficult question to focus on, pinned to the seat as I was. Four days on the transport, the moon and all the in betweens…

“Two weeks tomorrow,”

I mumbled into his neck, tightening my thighs about him. 

“Kriff, really?”

“Mhmm”

…

“Just two weeks…”

His pelvis pulled back a moment, thrusting back home, I bit into his neck, stifling the moan that ripped through me. His hips kept that rhythm, slow, forceful, sinking my hips into the back seat with each thrust. 

I let his skin slip from my teeth, harsh gasps spilling from my lips to whisper back to me from the cave walls punctuated with pitched moans in time with Cross’s movements. 

“Say it again, Tahny... That you need me,”

“I need you.”

It barely left me before his mouth was on mine again, ungraceful and frantic as his thrusts picked up pace. I lifted my thighs to wrap higher around his back, angling him to hit that spot just right, bruises be damned. 

With his free hand his knuckles drifted down, dragging against my skin till he sunk his fingers into my hips to hold me still; Carefully, Crosshair stroked into me, the weight of his bare chest pressing hard against my arching form as he moved his hips. My eyes fluttered against the waves of bliss pulsing through my brain. 

“I'm so close… take me there, Cross,”

My thoughts felt fuzzy and warm, the skin against mine hot and heavy and comforting. His breath was becoming ragged against his own rising pleasure. 

“You're mine Tahny,”

He moaned it against my lips, thrusting hips starting to snap in an erratic desperation. 

“Say it… I need you to say it,”

…

“I'm yours, Crosshair,”

The delirium took us, my body taught and rigid as I came for him. Cross pulled my hips against his, groaning softly as he poured into me. 

He was trembling from the intensity of the release, hips still bucking weakly as if to deny the pleasure should end. 

Our gasping breaths chorused back to us, filling the cavern we were stranded in. I listened to the sounds of our mingled voices, watching the false lighting zig zag across the ceiling, slowly coming back down to the backseat of the wrecked speeder. 

“Just two weeks?”

He breathed it against my neck, air hot from exertion. I shrugged,

“We can pretend it's been longer,”

“I'm not sure that's the point…”

~~~

My shoulder burned from the stretched position leaning into the hood of the vehicle. I found another loose wire and clipped it in. 

“Okay, tap it again.”

Crosshair touched the wires under the dash together and waited. 

Clicking, but no start.

I flicked the vibroblade open again in a huff, angling it into the thin space to try to see with the dim light it cast. 

No, all these connections are plugged here fine… 

I leaned a little farther, wedging my slight form deeper into the tight space. Couldn't see much… but,

There was a faint ‘tink’ of something dripping. 

I carefully wiggled to face the fuel tank and sure enough, a gasket was knocked ajar of its clamps. Readjusting the fitting and tightening the fasteners I finally worked my way out of the engine block. 

“Alright, try again.’

To my surprise the engine finally roared to life and I thunked the hood back down, Casting a look at the man in the driver's seat wearing a mildly impressed expression.

“You actually did it,”

Not wanting to waste water I scooped sand off the floor and scrubbed at the grime on my hands. I scoffed back, masking my shared disbelief,

“Told you, these things can take a beating,”

The rest of the speeder was rough, paint stripped from either side and trunk mostly crumpled but it was up and hovering again. 

Thank the void.

The idea of walking from here to any part of civilization was far from appealing. Not like we could try to get back to Estkle from here, the southern tunnel that dropped us in here was steep and who knows how far down we really were. There was no way to get the speeder up to the opening again anyways. The cavern was riddled with passages but there was only one that was ground level.

So, according to the dash-comp, North it was, and further down too from the looks of it, but the path was wide enough to drive through. We had the fuel, might as well use it. 

I slipped into the passenger side as Cross shifted us into gear angling the nose of the vehicle down the corridor we had decided on. Yanking my bag from where it had gotten wedged under the seat, I pulled out some dry rations and handed one over to him while I counted the rest. We hadn't touched them since leaving the moon but there was only half a duffle of food. Maybe five days if we're careful, but we'll most likely be in trouble if we don't find an alternative at some point. 

Especially if we can't find a way back above ground…

I scanned about the wide cavern flickering with spectral lightning. There was no light leaking into the chamber, no way to tell how far underground we really were. We were betting a lot on the water trails leading… somewhere, but with us sliding down so far I wasn't sure anyone would be able to find us if they tried to follow from the surface. 

“Ready?”

Crosshair was biting down on his nutrient bar looking to me for the final word before we broke the first rule of being lost and left the cavern. 

“There’s got to be another side, right? Might as well get started.”

He pressed the accelerator, gradually increasing our speed when no immediate obstacles presented themselves till we were at a comfortable cruising speed. 

We moved ahead in a shared anxious silence, the sandy floors of the cavern passing smoothly under us as we drove further into the dark shaft. 

Hours went by, quietly at first as we basked in the seclusion of the tunnel system, then with light conversation, shouted over the car noise. A comment about the stone, a wonder about the water, a lesson on the geological makeup of a tidal locked world. 

It was boring, the tunnel tight and uniform as it stretched under the mountain. There were fewer fragments of quartz in the long channels so the headlights guided us through. No obstacles, no turn offs, just a dark tunnel that seemed to go on for ages. 

The clock on the radio worked, and if it was correct, it would be early evening Ga'haiian. Too bad we couldn't get any signal down here for some music, the sound of the engine reverberating from the rocky walls was somewhat maddening and made the chit chat difficult. 

So I sat, leaning against my door watching the clone drive. He was relaxed, angled into his own door's armrest steering one handed. His armor plates were carefully stacked in the back seat, black top folded with them, leaving Crosshair in only the skin tight bottoms and boots. 

He casually gave the accelerator more pressure, feeling my eyes on him, and our speed started to edge on reckless. 

“Ease up, fuel burns faster like that…”

I had to shout to be heard but we decelerated. 

“That's no fun,”

He sighed, and I understood the lament. There wasn't even anything to look at down here. 

I etched the time, direction and our speed onto the dash with my vibroblade, calculating how far we'd traveled and trying to remember how many kilometers it was from Estkle to the Trimecca farm lands between the range and Sohn. We were no doubt still a ways off. 

The tunnel gradually widened and dropped into another dried out reservoir. Crosshair slowed and pulled the speeder to a stop. 

The new bur offered us a few routes to take, the tunnels spitting into two wide enough for the vehicle. I stepped out, walking to the mouth of the first passage. The air was still and dark and I debated the cost of fuel versus calories in scouting out which one might be more useful. Cross spoke up from the car,

“Maybe we should rest here for now…”

I didn't like the idea of extending our stay, but it wasn't worth pushing ourselves. Standing was already releasing some of the tension from the long drive… Might as well stretch our legs. 

I nodded and he cut the engine, plunging us into momentary darkness as our eyes adjusted to the inconsistent Iotryke flicker. 

We spent some time pacing about the new cave. I ran my hand over the smooth walls, warm wherever the sparking quartz was exposed. The caves were cool now, but the closer we got to Sohn the hotter it would get. I wasn't sure how far we'd be able to travel beneath the surface, or how far the atmosphere shields of Sohn extended. 

I was starting to get overwhelmed. The immensity of what it meant to be lost down here crushed into me all at once. Closing my eyes I filled my lungs, holding it a moment before sighing it back out. 

Heat gave away what the soft sand didn't as Cross came near, drawn by my tense exhale.

He enclosed me in his arms, warm skin pressing against my back. 

“Credit for your accounts?”

“Just trying to calculate our way out of here.”

“What if we’re here forever?”

He whispered it through a smile in my hair and I tilted my head back to look up at him. 

“There's nothing alive down here Cross, that doesn't bode well for making a life of it,”

“You so sure about that?”

He tilted his chin to guide my gaze to a shadowy crevice in the otherwise smooth walls. If you squinted, and looked long enough… it shimmered with movement.

I made my way to the wall, as close as I could get to the elevated crack. In the dark, fist sized… crustations? Clamored about each other, disappearing and reappearing in small burrows in the exposed rock. 

“We could always eat the wall bugs,”

I shot him a look for his word choice, but it was good to see something thriving. 

“No way to know if they're poisonous…”

I was bluffing slightly, given enough time I could usually figure out how to butcher something safely. I've had to learn some odd skills to keep my father's clients happy. 

“My stomach can handle it,”

“That explains the thirty two rotations…”

“Does it?”

“No. You're going to have to… expand on your story, How the kark did you manage that again?”

“That would take a while,”

“All we have down here is time,”

That smile again, making me chuckle in exasperation,

“I don't believe you, we're trapped and you're happy about it,”

“If we weren't, and we had made that train we would have what… hours?”

Maybe less. Kark, my father must be looking for me by now. 

“And you prefer certain death?”

He sloped over, pushing me against the wall,

“We won't die, I won't let you, though… I could get used to the idea of having you the rest of my life,”

He leaned in to nip my neck and my face flushed. 

“Let's try to make it a long one, yeah?... What do you think’s in the trunk?

I squirmed out from under him and he groaned in frustration.

~~~

Nektu, becktu, nah men’dah…

I threw the tight ball of plastic ration packaging up again, catching it as I stared hard at the tunnel openings from where I was sprawled on the speeder hood. 

Nektu, becktu, nah men’dah…

It wasn't the most accurate way to make a travel decision…

Nektu, becktu, nah men’dah…

That and my mind was wandering. 

“You’re quiet again, what's eating you?”

Crosshair huffed and leaned against the trunk he had been messing with, insistent he could get the damaged lock pried open with the tiny vibroblade. He was working up a sweat trying to prove himself right. I was staring and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Just… who was Rah’dehko working for… and how they're related to my Vah'hadarr”

“What makes you think your father's involved?”

“Rah'dehko Den. After our little run in, Va’hah would have wanted to keep tabs on him…whoever he answered to has to have ties to my family,”

“What does it matter?”

“Did you notice his gang?”

“Was hard to miss them,”

I shot him a look, trying to be serious. 

“Zygarrions. A few of them… separate from the rest.”

“Slavers.”

“Slavers.”

Zygarrions were almost never seen on Ga’hah, having both a bad history with the Katjarl clans and opposing cultural views on free will with the planet at large. 

“So it's about the recording then?”

“This is all about the recording… isn't it?”

A loud screech and a triumphant grunt brought my attention back behind me. The crumpled trunk finally popping open to creak up lazily. 

“You got it!”

I slid off the hood making my way to Crosshair's side. 

“Too bad… nothing really of use in here.”

He was right. The empty fuel canisters and hover dolly weren't exactly gonna blast a hole for us. It was high hopes to think we might have some extra food or water… I reached in and pulled out some dingy shop blankets. 

“These might make camping in the car more comfortable…”

He took the blankets from me, tossing them into the back of the speeder. Reaching in for his belt and a fresh toothpick. 

“So your father deals in slaves.”

It wasn't a question, and ice slipped down my spine. It had been a suspicion ever since we overheard that secret conversation, but it hurt a little for him to say it so openly. 

“Slavery is a very blatant term suggesting conquer and all that, here on Ga’hah it would be more…contractual,”

“... What's the difference?”

“Mm. Slavery is… was frowned upon by the Republic. They wouldn't have traded with a planet that deals in flesh traditionally… So there's the Ga'haiian cultural loophole.”

“Do tell,” 

He was leaning on the side of the car, watching me. His interest in the topic seemed to be wanning. I ducked under his arm to slide between him and the speeder. 

“Ga'hah is a culture steeped in the pursuits of pleasure, One such being complete devotion, or more bluntly, to be completely owned by another… voluntary,”

Cross paused a moment as the meaning hit him. His hand came up to cup my chin, crooning suggestively,

“A willing slave…”

I shot him a look of incredulity,

“Willing being the operative word, the Republic looks the other way as long as there’s measures to make sure the contracts are entered into by choice,”

“Semantics, the jist is your father is building a sex den for a political figure… it's not exactly mold breaking, Tahny,”

Not just any politician.

Neither of us wanted to say that part aloud, though that was something that bothered me too. This was one figure in the whole political scene of Coruscant who was reputedly as squeaky clean as they came, and from my brief observations… not interested in the ecstasy held in flesh. What he'd want with an array of slaves picked with my father's expertise, to a preference no less…

Either way it would be a scandal if the new Emperor was found to be dealing in trafficking right out the gate. Thinking back to the recorded conversation, trying to remember why it sounded familiar. Who was my father talking to? I was there, I know I had heard it before… and I must have been seen… is it really just me though? 

I looked up at the man stroking my jaw, more focused on my lips than the conversation.

“Crosshair? You said my parents were supposed to be on the transport… right?”

The military vessel assigned to us by his eminence himself, stocked with those of shakey loyalty to the new regime, or maybe simply… disposable.

“Up until the last minute,”

“And when were you assigned to the escort?”

His eyes focused back on me, narrowing.

“About an hour before we left Coruscant.”

It had to have been Crosshair that tipped him off. 

The clone in question had caught up to my reasoning, leaning back slightly,

“If he was spooked by me, why leave you on the ship?”

“The ship still needed to keep to the expected schedule, and he can't have known I would be targeted off of Coruscant… or at least thought it less likely,”

Crosshair scoffed at that and my brow furrowed in irritation. He can't be under the impression my father would sacrifice me and more importantly,

“Why would you be instructed to take me to the safe house if Va'hah thought you were an assassin?”

His cheeks suddenly flushed and he stepped away, running a hand over the back of his head which was… an odd response. 

“Cross…what is it?”

He turned back to me, biting his pick in half as he thought a moment before spitting it out, licking his lips and leaning back over me.

“It was supposed to be Hervos.”

“Hervos?”

“Lieutenant Hervos was supposed to escort you to the moon.”

I raised my brows.

“How was he supposed to do that?”

“He couldn’t have, he'd never have been able to keep you safe,”

Debatable. A diplomatic approach might not have been so bad a move…

“So… no, Crosshair, how did you get the encryption code?”

He leaned in closer, resting his forehead against mine with his eyes closed.

“The Lieutenant kept it on him, I took it as we were leaving.”

“You picked his pocket?”

“No, I looked him in the eye and took it, what was he going to do? Stop me?”

I pulled back, catching his eyes in the flickering light. 

“What happened to following orders?”

“The last orders given to me was to guard you from harm, get you home…”

“So you stole it?”

…

“I stole you,”

His hands trailed the length of my arms to lace his fingers in mine. 

“If you were going to be stranded alone with any one… it was going to be me.”

…

“Then why were you so hesitant to have me… once we were alone?”

“It wasn't about that, if I had let any one of those… any one else and you would have died, it's my job to make sure that doesn't happen,”

He was suddenly tense as he leaned against me, his palms coming up to cup my cheeks,

“I wasn't worried about having you, you're invitation was… clear, but you had to be safe, I was supposed to get you home first… but I needed you that night and- you couldn't die, I couldn't let you go knowing you would die,”

I went rigid, a sudden overwhelming feeling making my face hot and my eyes sting. 

That's not fair…

“What's wrong?”

Everything. 

My voice came out strained,

“This was supposed to be simple, idiot.”

I hopped up to perch on the door, wrapping my legs about his waist to pull his lips to mine in a fervent, frantic desperation. 

~~~

A whimper cut through my wispy dream state, too soft to echo but stirring me from my light sleep. My eyes were already adjusting and taking in the darkened cave. The crumpled trunk hood was still raised from us prying it open, lightning flashes reflecting wildly down on me from the dented metal. 

My skin was hot and I reached down for a bottle from my bag, taking a small sip of water, before sitting up and shifting to lean over Crosshair. He was sleeping in the reclined driver's seat,  a whimper low in his throat again as I watched, face twisting into a pained grimace. I ran my fingertips over his brow bone and cheek, soothing his twitching muscles. 

“Shh, li’nen…”

He gasped awake, jerking under my hand, fingers snapping to the side of his head as he half sat upright. 

“It's okay, Cross, I'm here… we're alone,”

“Where-”

Eyes widening, he follows the lightning across the ceiling.

“We're in the Iotryke caves,”

“The… the caves.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back again. I stroked his cheekbone resting my forehead on his brow and his breathing started to slow, hands finding mine in the bright darkness. 

“... Where were you?”

He was quiet, thumb stroking the hollow of my palm. I pressed him this time, 

“Kamino?”

“...No, before that…”

His fingers brushed his scar and he flinched, as if it hurt anew. 

I pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“Tell me… how'd you get this?”

He looked away… it was subtle, but he was suddenly avoiding my eyes. His brow was knitted with concern, fingers tapping mine in an agitated kind of way. 

“I'm not gonna force you, but… you can tell me, don't think you can chase me off now…”

“We're trapped in a cave.”

“And we could have all the stars between us, yet I'll still stand at your back,”

…

“... Ion Cannon,”

“... Like on a ship?”

“Yes,”

“You… you what? Got too close?”

“... Yes,”

“Crosshair.”

His eyes flicked to mine in the dark, holding my gaze a moment before sighing,

“It was clone force 99.”

“Otherwise known as your brothers…”

His brow pinched again, but he corrected,

“My brothers.”

…

“Burned you with a ship's Ion Cannon?”

… 

“How’d they manage that?”

He sighed, breathing deep,

“They blew up the casing after I trapped them inside… and had my men fire it. I ended up in the line of fire instead, and they escaped.”

He spat his words, looking away again with the defensive air of ‘are you happy now?’ I should've been more surprised at his words… but I wasn't. I understood the story though it wasn't told in a language I knew. 

“So you tried to fry 'em up but got burned?”

He winced, pointedly avoiding my gaze. 

I crawled into his seat, resting my body against his chest. Brushing my lips to his, I whispered against him.

“And you think this would frighten me?”

“It should… if you were sane,”

The guilt in his voice was obvious; The unsure tenor of someone now doubtful of actions they felt justified in the distant moment. If this was to make him a threat to me… no. I've known far worse monsters, ones who torment for the thrill of it… for fun. At times I've been one. 

“I'm perfectly sane and I say it doesn't,”

He rolled his eyes but the tension started to leave him, strong arms founding their way around my back. 

“Maybe Hunter deserved it anyways…”

“Oh yeah? What’d he do to deserve being melted?”

“He wouldn't have been melted,”

He looked almost annoyed I would suggest it, adding pridefully,

“They’re too good for that,”

“That's a varp of a heavy gamble, Cross, even for you…”

“I out maneuvered them and the imps at every turn. If I wanted them dead… they know damn well if I wanted them dead they would be. Hunter…”

There it was again, the name of the ninety nine’s leader accompanied with a distant hurt in his eyes. 

…

“He knew about the inhibitor chips.”

I tensed, 

“The what chips…Cross?”

His turn to stiffen but it didn't last as he crumpled beneath me, defeated, surrendering the secrets he'd been holding.

“The clones are programmed. Controlled.”

He formed a gun with his fingers, and pressed it over his ear. 

“Through a chip. It's how they got them to do it. Turn on the generals… ‘Good soldiers follow orders,’... Buzzing through their heads, their words and thoughts, it's like they're hypnotized,”

A chill dropped through me… compulsion was, well… blasphemous. Not to mention the depth of government secrets he just revealed. He shouldn't be telling me this…

“And Hunter knew what exactly?”

“... That I…”

He gritted his teeth,

“He knew there was a possibility I may have been controlled, and left me to that… fate.”

There were hints of shame in his voice. 

“With what you just told me, you think he could have bested you?... Taken you against your will?”

“Of course not.”

“Well now you're contradicting yourself. What was he supposed to do?”

…

“So… Were you being controlled?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don't think you would have fired a ships engine with them inside of it and just… trusted that they'd get themselves out, not without some external reason,”

“And what if there wasn't a reason, what if I really wanted them to burn for leaving me behind?”

“That still sounds like a reason… just less noble.”

He snorted dryly. 

“Well… you have more confidence in me than he did… asking when it stopped influencing me.”

“I don't think he meant anything b-”

“I don't want to be around people who think I would choose to hurt them. The fact that he even considered I would try to kill them, the child, uninfluenced…”

He was coiling tight with a disembodied indignation. 

“They don't know me. If that's what they think I'm capable of, they never did. Harsh, yes, willing to do what they won't. Always… but I'm not a child killer, All those years as comrades for nothing.”

He sighed, some of the fight going out of his words. His fingers brushed the melted scar over his ear, eyes clouded in reminisce.

“There was fire, and pain, searing pain… and then it was like I woke up; Burned, confused, the lights of the Marauder leaving me behind… again. I tried to pursue, scuttle their engines and catch up… but they left, I suppose more like ‘got away’... The result is the same, I've had no idea what to do since, every decision seems wrong,”

I kissed him again, desperate to steal some of the hurt from his voice, as if I could draw it from him like venom from a wound. He pressed back, subdued and broken, making my heart ache. 

“I'm gonna have to have a word with this ‘Hunter’”

…

His brow furrowed,

“That would be to exchange words, not…?”

I grinned against his cheek,

“I'm going to fight him.”

His lip twitched at that,

“You think you can take Hunter?”

“I have my ways, he'll never see it coming,”

He chuckled, nuzzling the hair against my neck,

“That's my girl…”

He met my lips again, less reserved, pulling me to press into his bare chest. His hands roamed down my back feeling the shape of me. 

Shifting back and crossing my arms on his chest, I rested my head to look up at him. 

“What does it mean… to be yours?”

…

“I'm still working that out myself…”

“Do you wish to be mine?”

…

He fell silent, running his fingers through my hair, letting the strands fall slowly to catch the sparks like dew in a spiderweb. 

“Can’t you see, Tahny?”

His husky voice was barely a whisper, like a private prayer, yet…it echoed through the silent chamber.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Tags: @feral-ferrule @thecoffeelorian

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

[lulublack90]

Prompt 6 - Extinct

@jegulus-microfic August 6, Word count 919

CW - Broken bodies

Previous part First Wolfstar part

James clasped his hand over his mouth to silent the gasp he inhaled as the entire extended Black family entered the room. Orion Black sat in the large leather armchair beside the fire. Cygnus Black, took the matching chair opposite, while the three ladies, Walburga, Druella and Narcissa took the wide settee. James and Sirius were stuck.

“Cygnus, Druella, I want to start things off by saying how sorry I am for your loss. The family’s loss. Bellatrix was the best of our family. We and I’m sure the Dark Lord will miss her presence.” Orion spoke solemnly. The gathered members raised glasses of red wine and firewhisky that had suddenly appeared beside them and toasted to Bellatrix. 

“It is a shame that she did not think to conceive, before her untimely end. But I suppose she thought she’d have more time. Plus the loss of the last of the Lestrange’s to boot. It was a dark day when the Order attacked them.” Cygnus sighed, staring darkly into the depths of his whisky glass. 

“Albus Dumbledore's holier than thou little group of do-gooders, murdering all those witches and wizards? Come now, Cygnus, you don’t believe that for a second, do you?” Orion scoffed. 

“But the Dark Lord—” Cygnus began, but Orion cut him off. 

“No, it was ferocious. I saw the destruction left behind. They were animals. Tore them limb from limb. I couldn’t tell the Lestranges apart. The only way I knew it was Bella was by her hair and the wand clutched in her arm a few feet away from her body.” Orion tutted. “Absolute animals. I have no idea who the others were with them and there's no record of the prisoner in the dungeon. Merlin knows who they had down there.” He finished drinking deeply from his glass. 

“But who would do such a thing?” Druella sniffled, taking a silk handkerchief from her robes and dabbing at her eyes. “My poor Bella, so much talent gone to waste.”

“And now we are without an heir, again!” Walburga spat unhappily. “I suppose it will have to be Narcissa, but I am loath to let the Malfoy’s get their claws on our riches. Dragons, the lot of them!" 

“But what about Sirius? He’s the only one who can carry on the family name,” Orion argued. James felt Sirius stiffen beside him and grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. He’d been so caught up in the conversation he’d almost forgotten that they were actually standing in the room. 

Walburga leant forward, her teeth bared, not unlike the werewolves when they got angry. 

“I would rather have our family name become extinct before I welcome that worthless excuse for a son back into the fold.” She sat back and composed herself. “Regulus may not have been the best choice for an heir, but at least he followed orders. It’s an irritating inconvenience that he didn’t live.” She turned to Narcissa, seated beside her. “You are the only one left who can carry on the bloodline, it’s just a shame you were born a female and there aren’t any other Black family members you could have married.” Narcissa squirmed uncomfortably in her seat just once, before correcting herself. 

“I’m sorry, Aunt. I promise any children Lucius and I can bear will be raised with the Black family values the same as I was,” Narcissa said with no emotion in her voice. 

“As I would expect,” Walburga barked. “When they are old enough you will bring them to me for instruction. I was too lenient on my own sons, but I shall remedy that.” Sirius scoffed and James had to nudge him, reminding him they needed to be quiet. Orion turned his head in their direction, his blue eyes, the same as Sirius’s, slowly examining the area where they were standing. His eyes crinkled and the corners of his lips twitched. James felt his stomach drop. Did Orion know they were there?

“Yes Aunt,” Narcissa said, her jaw clenching. James watched as her hand fluttered over her stomach and rested gently against her dress.

“I believe lunch is being served. Shall we?” Orion stood and gestured to the others. He waited for them to go, using his drink as a way to delay his exit. James and Sirius watched as he took a quill and a scrap of parchment from a drawer and scribbled something down. He looked again to the corner James and Sirius stood in and smiled warmly before walking out of the room, leaving the door open for them. 

Before James could stop him, Sirius was dragging him across the room to see what his father had written. 

‘Take whatever you need. Be safe and don’t linger, Sirius.’

Sirius froze at the words, his hand brushing across the parchment. He snatched up another piece to leave a message of his own. 

“Sirius, no!” James hissed under his breath. “If anyone sees it, you’ll be putting us all in danger,” Sirius stopped, his quill hovering over the parchment, dripping a few spots of ink as he warred with himself. 

“I have to, Prongs,” He said before scribbling across the parchment. 

‘The dog saved the cat from its strange underground cage. They took to the trees where they both are free. 

A Riddle they have found. A Riddle they will end. Only then will they be seen again.’

“Poetic shit. Alright, let’s go!” James hurried Sirius from the room, and they fled the house as silently as they could. 

Next part

[holycatsandrabbits]

On this day in 1767, hunter Jean Chastel rid the world of history's most well-documented werewolf, the Beast of Gevaudan.

With a body count of up to 113, the Beast of Gevaudan terrorized France for three years. Occasionally hunters, many sent by the king, would slay the wolf and display its body as proof— and then more people would be killed, until Chastel and his lucky shot.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t actually unusual at the time for people working in fields and tending cattle to be killed by wolves. But the Gevaudan attacks were especially frequent, and thus sparked some supernatural rumors. The wolf was said to be as big as a horse, strangely colored, and sometimes walked on two legs. It could be seen in two places at once and it appeared to defy multiple attempts to kill it.

I think it’s important to point out here that things like so-called “mass hysteria” and the spreading of frightening rumors are perfectly natural human reactions to terrifying phenomena with no easy explanation. Yes, this was undoubtedly the work of normal wolves. But here we are hundreds of years later, still telling stories about it.

Today we are going to look at the main theories about the Beast of Gevaudan, and provide some writing prompts for anyone looking to keep the story going.

Check out the blog post for the whole story and some beastly writing prompts, such as:

The Dire Wolf. (Best name for a cryptid ever.) The Dire Wolf, which was a real animal back in the Ice Age, is now a type of cryptid (unknown animal rumored to exist) known as a relic, which means an isolated example of an animal thought to be extinct. 

This is where you get the Yeti as a surviving Gigantopithecus or Nessie as a Plesiosaur. (Also, technically, the Dire Wolf was in North America, so for Gevaudan you’d be talking about some type of Pleistocene Wolf, but that doesn’t have as cool of a name. Or it could be some form of Mesonychid, which looked kinda like a wolf, but was actually related to giraffes.) Anyhow, if you’re going the relic route, you’re going to need an explanation for the survival of the relic and the fact that it’s gone undiscovered (that is: no bodies, no babies, no spoor, no impact on the food chain). And if you’re in the forest, you’re not going to be able to use “the ocean is really big, who knows what’s down there.” It’s the forest, we know what’s in there.

But this is fiction, so it can be done! One of the coolest theories I’ve heard for Bigfoot is that he’s from another dimension and only visits ours once in a while, leading to the sporadic sightings. Other relic explanations include time travel (humans go back in time or wolf comes into the future), as-yet-undiscovered vast cave networks or unknown islands that could sustain a relic population, cloning of extinct animals, or, since we’re talking Ice Age beasties, melting glaciers with frozen wolves that can be revived.

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers 

Image credit

[paradoxolotl]

OH PARA MY DARLING!!! :))))

For the writer ask can I beg to see a snippet of Neil being banned from another coffee shop (Andrew's maybe 👀) or what led to him being banned from half the coffee shops?? (From Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage)

My beloved PAS ♥️

Unusual Asks for Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage

~

“Sir.”

Neil took a slow sip of his coffee. Only his third cup of the day. Or hour. He couldn’t remember anymore. The beauty of a deadline he had pretended to prepare for rearing it’s ten hours until due highlight covered head? Kevin’s “inhuman level of coffee consumption” ban was lifted.

Not that Neil followed it all that closely anyways. What did Kevin know.

“Sir.”

He flicked his eyes up and to the left, hand still blindly typing away at his keyboard. He had a word count to hit after all. The familiar death glare of a service employee not paid enough to give a proper fuck but forced to anyways waited for him. Usually, Neil continued silence turned most people away, or at least made them uncomfortable enough to spit out whatever they decided was worth interrupting him over. But this one only glowered harder, jaw setting.

“Ma’am.” It turned up at the end like a question, but Neil’s voice held too much faux pleasantry to be recognized as such.

Nostrils flared on her inhale. “Sir-” and honestly the amount of complete disdain and over your bullshit she packed into that single word even impressed him- “you need to leave. Now.”

Oh boy, this was almost worth pausing an essay for. Neil finished his sentence. “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment,” he said, turning back to his work. Was a Freudian mention too much? He tapped the space key twice, not quite hard enough to move his cursor. Probably not.

“Sir.”

“Jesus,” Neil muttered. He needed more coffee. Matching her glare with one of his own, Neil shook his cup, the pitiful remains just enough to splash against the sides. “I’m a paying customer. You can’t just kick me out for no reason.”

“You taped crime scene photos to our windows!” she snapped. And well. Okay yes, that was true. He didn’t need to spare a glance to see the expanse of carnage he had set up.

“It’s for research,” he said.

She jabbed a finger at the cup in his hand. “And that isn’t even from here.”

Neil glanced down. The cup sported the bright orange colours of Fox & Nip Cafe. He looked up to the hat the employee was wearing. It was purple, with The Drip stitched in white across the front. Slowly, he raised the cup to his mouth, tipping the last of it into his mouth.

“I’ve told you guys before. I don’t see what the problem is,” he said. “Your coffee is shit. You know that right? I could order a triple shot and it wouldn’t even hit me. It’s an art, how you’ve taken something so easy and weakened it to the point of threatening extinction.”

Turning in his chair, Neil pointed to the man not even pretending not to be watching. “Your coffee is shit!” he said, making the man jump. He turned back to the employee. “This is literally the worst coffee is town. You have two things going for you: the tables are big enough to work at and your muffins aren’t sweet like fucking cakes. If I have to provide my own passable coffee, I should be allowed to use the space provided to finish my work.”

If looks could kill. “Get the fuck out,” she said.

Neil had three rules he lived by. Number two: when a retail employee drops the word fuck as a promised threat, it’s time to go.

Tossing her a quick salute, Neil shoved his laptop back into his bag and left everything else behind. He didn’t really need the photos anyways.

Two blocks down, he pulled out a small notebook from a side pocket. With a sigh, he crossed out The Drip from his list.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 23: Understatement

Pairing: Mer Mayday x Ice Dragon Reader

Summary: After coming out of stasis, you meet an exhausted commander.

Author’s Note: Crosshair in this AU went with the Bad Batch at the end of season one. So there is a reason he’s not here.

Warnings: Minor Violence. Death. One we don’t care about and two are clones. I’m sorry about the clones. May they rest in peace.

Word Count: 1258

Prompt: They say it’s lifeless, the frozen sea our frozen world is built on. But where the ice is thinnest and most dangerous, I have seen a light, faint and flickering, a cold and distant star.

Prompt 2973 by deepwaterwritingprompts

You had been asleep for a very long time. A couple millennia even. Most sea dragons had fallen into a deep slumber after the Mer Wars. The Sea Alor of the time had said to sleep after all the sea dragons had sacrificed; we deserved to rest.

However, the Mer forgot about you and the rest of your kind. Most turned to stone over the years and fell apart, never to awaken again. As you awoke, you realize that there is only one other of your kind left; their magic can barely be felt in a deep ocean fissure far away.

“Ice dragon.” You gently lift your head. “You are needed for the fight ahead. Return to Mandalore.” You slowly begin to stretch out your atrophied muscles; the call of the Sea Alor was not to be ignored.

“It will take me time, but there I shall be.” You recieve a gruff, but understanding humm in reply before the connection is severed. You turn your head up to the icy bay and begin swimming up.

Mayday hates having to keep the bay clear of thicker ice. Did he hate everything about this island he was stuck on? Absolutely. But this specific chore has a special amount of hatred attached to it. Sadly, if what remains of his men were going to get off this frozen rock, the bay has to allow a ship to get to the dock.

They didn’t have any ice or water manipulators so that just left breaking the ice with tools; their increased strength and durability as Mer being the only thing making the job possible. Also didn’t help that Veetch had to keep an eye on the perimeter so it left him and Hexx to do this chore by themselves every other day.

Mayday suddenly stops when he hears the ice creak beneath him; he’s come to a thin section. He slowly gets down on his knees and looks for something he has glimpsed only a few times. They say it’s lifeless, the frozen sea this frozen island is built on. But where the ice is thinnest and most dangerous, he has seen a light, faint and flickering, a cold and distant star. He has thought many times about swimming down in mer form to see what it is, but logic always reminds him that he would freeze to death before he got anywhere close.

While he finds the light again, he is more than suprised to see it getting closer. His heart is in his throat when he is able to see what it actually is. What you actually are.

“They’re extinct.” Mayday can’t believe his eyes even as you turn to look at him. You linger just under the frozen top of the bay.

“Move.” You warn tiredly. “I don’t want you to fall in, Mer.” He doesn’t need to be told twice and scrambles back. Once you see he’s at safe enough a distance, you ram your head through and pull yourself out onto the ice. You flop down, completely spent.

“Are they awake yet?” You groggily sit up in someplace warm at the sound. You rub your eyes; one would think staying awake after being in magical stasis so long would be easier than this.

Finally, you look down at yourself and almost jump in surprise. You’re in human form. Stars, you forgot you could even take this form when you needed to conserve magic.

“Good morning.” The bearded Mer hands you a cup with something steaming inside and you slowly take it. The other two Mer, who look identical to him, linger in the background. Your eyes linger on the sad shape of their armor for only a moment, not wanting to offend. It occurrs to you that he sounds far too much like the Sea Alor who summoned you, but you decide that’s not important at this precise moment.

“Than- Thank you.” You stumble out, far too annoyed with how your muscles in this body rebel just as much as the one’s in your true form did.

“You’re welcome.” His smile makes you pause; it’s kind, but his face looks like it hasn’t made that expression in a long time. “Now what is a dragon doing on Barton IV?”

You remain with them almost a month as you regain your strength. You grow quite close with the three men as they share what is currently going on in the outside world. Or at least up till a little over a year ago when they were stranded out here. You more than earn your keep in turn by scaring and fighting off the raiders while the three work on the base.

In fact, you are almost at full power when a squad from the empire you’ve heard so much about shows up. Mayday sneaks you out to the nearby mountains and you watch the base from a distance. You should go to Mandalore now, but you can’t in good conscience leave them here after they helped you.

To say you are viciously angry when you feel Hexx and Veetch die is an understatement. It only grows when you meet Mayday as he leaves the base; apparently he’s being sent on a suicide mission after the raiders.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to obliterate that base?” You hiss as you shake with rage. You can see his eyes soften though his t-face helmet; his mouth is covered with a rag in an attempt to stay warm.

“As tempting as that is, cyare. I do actually want to get revenge on those raiders.” You nod before following him through the passage the raiders were using. “Besides, just the Lieutenant would be perfect if you don’t mind.”

You let out a snicker in repose and you thread his fingers through yours. He gives you a squeeze in response, but continues to look forward.

This Mer has been good to you when he did not have to be. You weren’t going to let anything happen to him.

Once you are both on the other side, you shift into your dragon form. You keep them distracted while he grabs the stolen goods. It is nice to finally be rid of them when the fight is over, but nothing prepares you for finally seeing what the stolen cargo actually is. It was knocked over in the last of the fight and brand new T-K Trooper armor stares up at you and Mayday.

“We were good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?” It lingers in the frozen air after he says it. There isn’t any comfort you can think to give. It’s just cruel and wrong.

Then the ground begins to shake, precursing an avalanche. You’re up in the air with Mayday in one of your claws within seconds. You call for him to climb up and slow down for him to do so. You feel him cling to the juncher between your neck and wings as you fly through the cold cloudy sky. He sits up straighter, staring in awe as you soar past a black ice vulture.

“Let’s go kill that lieutenant.” You turn your head just enough to see him smile as you say that; the rag covering his lower face having been pushed down by the wind.

“I think I might love you.” A joyful laugh rumbles through you at that.

“And I you, Commander.” To say there was nothing left of Lieutenant Nolan by the time you and Mayday left Barton IV would have been an understatement.

[random-xpressions]

The ability to express something depends on several factors like clarity, vocabulary etc. But to me the subject is what matters the most. Upon a quick assessment, I have divided it broadly into 5 layers:

i) Thoughts: This, I would count, is the easiest of all to be expressed. A thought strikes and you immediately verbalise it. There is barely a need for any processing time. Yes, some thoughts may be like cobwebs, too entangled and unclear. But a majority of our thoughts are quite direct. If it has appeared on the mental plain, then it is just a matter of giving it a voice.

ii) Feelings: Now to express feelings would be a bit more complicated for the sheer fact that there's a lot of impermanence in it. They're like passing winds, constantly arriving and leaving at the same time, very brief, too momentary. Such a transient matter will be hard to grasp, let alone verbalise and express it. They are also a little vague, clarity is lacking and hence could leave a person more confused. A good example of which could be of a person who doesn't know if he's merely infatuated with someone or is actually in love.

iii) Ideas: Now I would count this as even more harder because not only does it take a lot of complex thought processes involved in it but to actually break it down into a simple comprehensive digestible thing really demands much precision and effort. An idea demands that it addresses the issue, the problem at hand and that it has no loopholes to it. Even more what is demanded is that it must appeal to the listeners because an idea calls for action. So its expression must not only be some accurate presentation but something that evokes a subsequent action.

iv) Experience: Now this requires some special talent because to express an experience is like giving someone the gift of walking your journey. It is pure transfer of the energy that had driven you. It is to carry them through the exact same roads that you had traversed. It is like rewinding and repeating the experience once again. It could be both traumatic or euphoric depending on what the experience itself was. It is probably at this stage when there's actual participation of the listener because they're in one sense undergoing the exact same experience when every word that you speak is now leaving a ripple effect inside them. It may cause tears. It may cause laughter. It may strike fear. It may instill hope. It may even evoke love.

v) The Self: This comes at the top of the table, the highest in the hierarchy, the toughest of all to ever express. For how is it even possible to make someone dwell inside one's soul? To express the self is like inviting someone to live inside one's skin. It is like making someone forget who they are and to transform them into you. It is like creating your own replica in the other. Nearly an impossible task to express oneself. All that preceded - thoughts, feelings, ideas, experiences - can to some extent be put into words. But how do you verbalise yourself? How do you convert the spirit into matter? How could something so ancient be brought into the present? How could something so unknown, so mysterious, so enigmatic be ever wrapped around in words? To express oneself is as real or unreal as magic - rare and almost an extinct art. So now ask yourself - have you ever reached this layer of expression where you peeled yourself off naked before another soul?

Random Xpressions

[thegeminisage]

it's star trek update time. SIGH. monday we did voy's "death wish" and ds9's "accession" and last night we did voy's "lifesigns" and "investigations."

death wish (voy):

this episode made me so angry it's UNREAL. star trek has pissed me off before but the only other episode in the entire series that has made me this mad that i can think of is tng's "violations." i am "violations" mad about it

firstly, to get it out of the way, i went back and skimmed the transcript of the episode. JUST SKIMMING, which means this list could be non-exhaustive, i counted six instances of q being sexist towards janeway, four instances of him sexually harassing her, and one instance of him being racist towards chakotay. like, his "dumb brute" remarks to worf in tng were so horrible but at least he kept those to one or two an episode, JESUS. janeway only corrected him one time, which i guess is because she's "above" all that? because that's how being a Tough Woman works?

like, until now, i have had some problems with voyager, but i can't think of a time, outside of kes and neelix's whole deal, that it felt sexist. whereas it was more surprising when tng DIDN'T feel sexist. and all of the sudden, tng's most annoying character shows up, and the sexism is back in full force. i HATE that

secondly, i know the trek guys missed tng, i know everybody else missed tng, but we HAVE to cool it with the tng cameos in voyager. barclay was fine, actually (weirdly enough?), but q and riker is over the top. q being here invalidates the ENTIRE premise of the show, which is already not being fully utilized. they don't treat it like a voyage - talking about time left until they get home in light years/ real time, a number that should be getting smaller, sacrificing speed for larger concerns, weighing the costs of stopping at this planet to get [needed supply] or rescue [hapless alien] against the cost of how many more years on this ship they will have to endure, worrying about what will happen when they run out of torpedoes or food. we get neelix cooking and a few grocery runs and that's it. but they are still AWAY FROM HOME. the journey back is a real and tangible thing that stands in their way. but now q is looking at them, and q could take them right back to earth before i finish typing my next word, and that's not supposed to push our suspension of disbelief? suddenly that 75000 journey, the first last and only great adversary of this premise, doesn't seem real anymore

as far as q politics go: i don't care because they're pretty boring. that being said, even if i DID care, janeway deciding for the q whether or not another q should be allowed to die ABSOLUTELY violates the prime directive. could sisko preside over a court case involving a huge change to bajoran society? no. so why is janeway allowed to do this? once they made bets on the outcome of this trial she should have opted out. if we can let a planet go extinct to uphold the directive we can let one q rot in jail for eternity.

FURTHERMORE, her ruling on the side of quinn in this trial is bullshit. janeway made a decision to trap all her crew in the delta quadrant in the pilot but it was to SAVE LIVES. her morals, which are a little lofty/at odds with her situation sometimes, were very justified here, because people would have died if she had taken the selfish way out. NOBODY'S life was at risk here - except, arguably, the lives of her crew, some of whom have already died during the long trip back home they're making. there's no justification whatsoever for janeway turning down the temptation of a quick trip home, but especially not so easily. WHICH IS, AGAIN, WHY Q EVEN BEING HERE RUINS THE ENTIRE THING. doing this makes janeway either look out of touch or like an asshole. that on top of the constant sexism made me want to commit murder

also, the q lipstick looked awful.

i did like janeway's like...she took the debate very seriously. and at the end even though she ruled for that guy's right to die she was like i like my mortal life and if you tried it you might like it too think hard before you throw it away. i liked that part. unfortunately, the rest was garbage

accession (ds9)

ohhh this one was SO good

firstly, i have wanted to go back to the wormhole since the pilot and NOT for dumb ferengi reasons. mwah

secondly, sisko my best friend sisko my beloved i'm gonna get into it but i love him so much he's the best guy ever

first i gotta talk about kira......im always so shocked when i remember she's religious because she's SO smart and headstrong and her religion often makes her stupid. this episode had some really really good scenes for her, and i really loved the like. stuff that happens between her and sisko when she loves him as a friend and as a commanding officer but also as jesus. religion adds complexity to that relationship, which is fun. but i do kind of wish she had had to grapple just a LITTLE, like ANY at all, with being misled - she really thought this bajoran guy was the emissary which would have made her wrong about sisko, but then she realized he was fake which made her wrong about him. and she was like well it's ""faith"" it doesn't matter if i was """wrong""" and if it doesn't make sense to you sorry atheists. like, okay, sure, but do you not have a religious crisis when you realized that feeling of total faith was fake and that you were successfully lied to? could we get into that, which would have been more interesting than a "checkmate atheists" moment?

speaking of atheism, sisko. he's not a believer of the bajoran religion, and he was sooo happy to step aside when someone else showed up (until that guy started doing awful shit), and then when he goes into the wormhole to ask WHY the wormhole aliens would spit this asshole out hundreds of years later if he's NOT the emissary they're like "oh because of you :)"

they KNEW that he would become disillusioned about the job hundreds of years before he was born so they concocted a perfect reason to give him a vested interest in keeping it - to protect the bajoran people, right? it gave him a chance to get hard evidence with his own eyes how much they really love him and would do for him, making that devotion feel more like an honor than a burden. but more than that, it's a magic trick for a skeptic. a "do you still think it's sleight of hand NOW?" moment. FUN.

anyway, i'm really interested to learn more lore about those guys. you exist here. they made such an impression on me

lifesigns (voy):

CAN WE PLEASE STOP. HAVING STAR TREK EPISODES ABOUT ASSISTED SUICIDE.

this lady like yeah i'd rather die than go back to my own body, my life in that body was intolerable, vs worf's brother being like my life as a dishonored klingon is intolerable, vs the other q being like yeah boredom for eternity is intolerable, kill me. what was IN the fucking water hold on i have to look something up. one second i think okay yeah terri schiavo was in the 90s. that was what was in the water. alright. that was a really fucking depressing wikipedia article i just skimmed through

ANYWAY, my favorite part of this episode was finally getting to see trek's version of mars, which i have wanted to see for a long time now. it was extra cool that it was set against this 50s convertible and the 50s music. i thought that was bomb as hell. absolutely fucking obsessed. the rest of the episode was just okay

firstly, unintentional aroace doctor vibes. like under one hand we can't be doing that to nonhuman characters anymore because of The Stereotypes (i'm not aro but i'm ace so i'm allowed to complain about this) under the other That Dialogue. "romance is not part of my program and i don't want it to adapt right now because i don't like what's happening to me" and all the talk about how utterly indifferent he was to her appearance whether she was holographic or in her real body

also, hi, sorry, she's gonna name him SHMULLUS after her UNCLE? i thought we were trying to be romantic here!

tom paris chakotay confrontation...you know what, i'll get into it next episode. i will say though i was like damn why didn't they offer us any closure on that at all?? i do kind of like that we have arcs in voyager, unlike tng - this, the spy, seska's baby, etc.

the real problem with this episode though is don't vidiians steal organs from people? usually only people who are living? without their consent? did that guy not WEAR that one starfleet officer's face? b'elanna's trauma response in the beginning was sort of played down but she was the ONLY objection i heard. no, it's not this lady's fault she is sick, and she may not have PERSONALLY done any organ stealing, but she knows where they come from. she's complicit. i was shocked that we didn't even get into it

you could have done one of those really good trek ethical debates on this, i think. this isn't what happened, but let's just say when she was a child she got those organs without her consent either. and when she gets older she just gets used to it - or maybe she doesn't, and advocates for willing donors only. if she said she only received organs from willing donors, would the crew believe her? would you? if this is a new stance, and b'elanna has something she needs but refuses to give it up, would this lady be tempted to take it? NOW you've got some meat to this episode - it's particularly good if she does dodgy stuff and the doc still loves her. um unfortunately that's not what we did though

investigations (voy):

FINALLY some good fucking food

firstly, can i just say, poor fucking chakotay. this is like the THIRD time he's been tricked by a spy. we HAVE to stop doing this to him, he's going to get a complex. i do like that it was tuvok who advocated for tricking him though because theyre worsties <3 tuvoks mad he didn't get first officer no matter what he says

secondly, this entire episode should have been from neelix's camera's pov. that would have been soooo fun

neelix and tom paris really are friends now..........incredible that raising a puppet lizard baby can bring men together in this way

the most exciting part of this episode was cathy figuring out about .5 seconds into it that tom was a double agent rooting out the spy and then both of us gaslighting ourselves into going "no way he genuinely left" and then back to "omg he's definitely a spy" like by the time we got to the reveal we were in fits. even tuvok was gaslighting neelix. neelix was like mr vulcan we have a spy and tuvok was like nah. i love when he calls him mr vulcan btw i wish they had more scenes like the bath thing tuvok makes such a good straight man next to neelix

this also makes me feel a huge amount of relief over tom paris in general, and his tentative redemption. i liked when he said he wasn't gonna be annoying anymore and was so disappointed when he went back to doing that. but it was a trick! he tricked me. they literally got me like i'm chakotay

neelix was RUDE to keep putting the doctor off for his news show btw like maybe EYE wanted to learn about the klingon glottis. honestly!! that said, i also didn't think he had it in him to straight up murder a guy either that also really shocked me

also, hi again to seska, who is still pregnant with somebody's baby. still REALLY hoping it's chakotay's!!!

NEXT TIME: just voy's "deadlock," since we are also watching star wars :/

[spotsupstuff]

It f*cking makes sense!!!!! Love all of your Cycle explanation!!!!

Would love to hear of the OG Gods Folks, and who was the God of the respawn mechanic? How many OG Gods where at the beginning? What was the original idea/theme of the Void and the Void Worms before it was corrupted for you?

ha yeah!!!! yeah it does!! welcome to the Spot Lore Technique where stuff makes sense because we are using My rules and my rules say we should tastefully disregard some canon bits, bullshit stuff and play Connect 4

okay so this turned out hardly organized n i don't think nor feel like helping it, so click here for brain word vomit. took like four hours to get it all down, i got excited:

the Folk Gods differed from local culture to local culture so there's different interpretations! similarly to the deal stuff with Odin/Thor, Perún and Zeus. certain themes stick together (like leading god + thunder/lightning in the examples) and connect interpretations of the Folk Gods, though sometimes a singular God can be split into more in tales cuz it fits better for their situation for whatever reason

the thing with pagan/folk gods is that they often stand behind some kind of Thing that impacts the people a lot (the seasons, the weather, stuff like that), so trynna count them all including the minor gods would be fuckin. Ouchie n there's only so much world-building my hands can take so i'mma leave that as an open number

the Folk Gods i KNOW i want to have are Gods that would match with these karma symbols

and then some nature-based Gods, like maybe for the seasons. and then, of course!!! The Anemoi!!!!! Zephyrus, Boreas, Euros and Notos are all actual Gods in the pagan believes. it's why Sparrows defaults to calling our Euros "Caper". after learning about the Folk Gods, our Euros kind of lets go of how exactly he wants to be called and mentally defaults to Caper as well. an Iterator silently worshipping the original Gods... what a puzzling, unexpected thing

(the Anemoi iterator names are- i actually threw them together hastily, but i've been freaking out about it for a bit now Specifically cuz i didn't plan this out, but the other pieces of their names (that Sparrows would default to calling them)- Caper, Abet, Blessing and Biting/Bite- actually Really well reflect their roles in the Iterators'-post-mass-ascension story and i'm SO proud of that. i just wanted to gush about that real quick, excuse me jlkgsjldkckl)

i've been actually thinkin about making a second set of the Anemoi, with Apeliotes, Keikias, Lips and Skeiron, if only to fluff up the Iterator group a bit, so we will see

they are using the greek names cuz i'm too lazy to bother with figuring out some special names for them. let's have shout outs to cultures with the god names outside of the 10 karma symbol ones

oh and they weren't originally meaning to be using actual Names in the Iterator names (-looks guiltily at the canon Ittie names-). the Anemoi iterators are just special cases. it all started with Zephyr- which is an actual normal word in the english language, That's her name, she isn't actually named after a God- but someone was like "hey, what if we do a set out of this" and now we have the Anemoi Iterators with special treatement and in leading roles of Things (Haboob is one of them but she's. kind of an outsider in their lil group- it's a whole thing, but this isn't the post for it)

the God of the respawn mechanic was most likely the God that ends up standing for the Survival karma symbol!!

other notable gods: • the God of the tenth karma, also known as The One Who Exonerates, the Reaper or, to us, known as the Saint ;D (I STILL HAVE TO PLAY THE FUCKIN SAINT CAMPAIGN but I think this take is gon stay). The Saint is an incarnation of the God, it took the form of a slugcat cuz they are all indeed extinct during that time n it's kind of the God's trademark Thing to become something like the walking dead. "this species isn't supposed to be alive anymore. why is one of them walking towards me right now?" (imagine a dodo bird threateningly approaching you with flashing eyes, bro wtf...). it came down into the mortal realm like this to sweep away all remnants of the previous civilization (the Ancients) so the life cycle of the planet may begin anew again (as inspired by the Aztec myth of Earth having multiple incarnations/live times. i could swear there's smth like this in Theosophy as well but ergh -shrugs-). i've read quite a few things about the tales of Gods or clean beings like that coming down when i was a kid (i was a strange one) and REALLY fuckin adore how Saint collecting the echoes to get its final ascension ability can mirror really well the journey that incarnated clean beings have to go thru. they may be Gods, holy things, but they still need to Learn when they come here to offer their help and love • the God of the fourth karma. it's Gourmand. shkiki kept yellin at me about how fuckin horrid this take is when i first came to this conclusion in our DMs so now it's FUCKIN canon to me. spite fuels me still. Gourmand is an ACTUAL FUCKIN GOD. he came down to the world to just chill 🤙 • the God of the sixth karma. Maybe. i'd like to poke 'em just because they are connect to Moon (that's Yet another thing- Moon is the sixth iterator ever created n the first ten mirror these gods and the Karma symbols. i want to design the other 9 at some point, i really do)

a big trademark thing for incarnations of the Gods is that they are always kind, in their own way. if it's blindly vengeful like Artificer, it can't be a God in the flesh

i'm gueesing you mean more the global religion than the void itself- the void stays pretty static n normal when compared to canon i think. it does what it does for the world, pushing the planet's cycle along by eating away at the buried physical past, the Void Worms are like guides within it. they take the creatures who fall into this dark to the light, to become everything and nothing at the same time- reach that Nirvana

the void is a way of ascension and progression for the *world*, not the sapient creatures- the Ancients played with something so much more grander than they could ever hope to be. spaient creatures are meant to have fun on top of the world and then polish themselves into godly cleanness (reachin max karma) n then ascend. the void ascension method is just plain wrong

the GLOBAL religion's initial idea was that the sins are just things one should beware not to cling on to (or become obsessed with/addicted to). clinging creates tension, it produces the fear of loss. one should not live in fear. in the constant stress produced by the anticipation of "when will i lose this. when will i lose it. when. when. when.". for example the fifth sin- do not cling to survival because if you are going to be terrified of not make it you will be unable to live your life to the fullest. it doesn't mean the exact opposite in return- one should not desire death, and, one should not fear death. all comes and goes and the best thing one can do is accept it

the Extremists of this came in and sharpened this well-meaning affable wisdom into strict rules of "You Can't Have This At All and if you DO You Will Suffer." (aka haha christianity irl). you can't fight against violence with violence even if it's your only choice, you can't feel lust and give your partner carnal love, you can't have friends and other such relationships, you shouldn't have food and ultimately- we all should not live at all. this Extremist version of the faith was the aggressive thing that colonized the rest of the world and forced everyone to look the same way towards own destruction

the Extremists are why the respawn gimmick gift of the God was turned into a curse. they made everyone look at how it hurts to die and that dying Once only promises that it will happen again. "there is never any end to it!" they whine and screech. the gift was originally seen as a good thing because it was that *second chance*... that even if your loved one will die even when they tried so hard not to, you won't have to go through the pain of losing them for good. they'll be here, they are here, you still have the time to give each other the love. it's okay

so quite literally just a case of seeing the glass half full and half empty. the Extremists brought in the negative thinking (And Therefore The Iterators Too). that was ALL especially catastrophic for the lower circles cuz the higher ones at least lived in comfort and not too much of fear of death

fuckin... poor Sparrows here almost got crushed by Euros' rain when she was like 4, has had to live in fear of the oxygen poisoning, almost being chomped by all sorts of animals and having to force herself to think that this is all okay, how it's supposed to be, because otherwise she might as well go crazy or get so emotionally destroyed she'd end up being a completely different, depression-riddled person. all the while the royals up in Ales are sipping at nectar, watching the birds fly and staring into crystal balls and other such divination things

[sailtomarina]

Grazing Winter Herbs and Other Delights

Neville x Hermione | @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 13: Reindeer tracks | WC 1932 | Rating: T

“Thanks for coming, Neville. I know you’re pretty busy these days–”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m actually not as busy as you might think, and I’m always available to help a friend.”

“Still, thank you. I really don’t know what to make of what I found.”

She was of course referring to the gigantic holes in her herb garden. Neville hand helped her when she’d first moved out into the countryside, suggesting flowers and vegetables that not only suited her personality and diet, but also were moderately easy to care for. It wasn’t that Hermione was a beginner, she’d scored nearly as well as he in Herbology, but that she was the busier of the two. Neville couldn’t count the number of times they’d had to reschedule planting at the start. Frankly, he thought the Ministry was taking advantage of her hard work ethic, but it wasn’t really his place to say anything.

Where once there were several thriving bushes of thyme were now holes in the garden bed. Gone, too, were the chives and sorrel.

“I’ve checked for all the usual suspects: porlocks, mooncalves. None of them apply!”

“I see you’ve also erected the fencing I recommended since I was last here,” Neville said in approval, looking at the perimeter of cedar posts. It wouldn’t be enough to keep out the truly tenacious, but was a good enough deterrent for most creatures. “Have you considered any charms?”

“I have, but I thought I’d consult you first before going that route. I know there are certain magical plants that don’t do well with some charms.”

He beamed at her in pride. So she had been listening to him in the past. Granted, it was Hermione, the paragon of the perfect student, but still. It wasn’t often that Neville felt truly accepted when he went on one of his spiels. 

She gave him that cute little grin of hers that did something funny to his insides and playfully punched him in the arm. “What do you take me for?”

“I’ll take whatever you offer me.”

The words were out of his mouth without a thought, and he wanted to reel them back in the second they were out. Hermione appeared just as surprised as he, her eyebrows jumping high on her forehead and breath making in an audible woosh.

“Nev!”

He sighed in relief as she laughed, though it sounded a bit awkward together with how she looked away from him as she did so. He tried to not feel disappointed. There’d been inklings of interest, he’d thought, as they labored in the soil together. Lingering hands, teasing comments erring on the side of flirtation. A large part of him had hoped for some kind of progress tonight when he’d received her invitation. 

Perhaps, it was too soon. Perhaps, it was wishful thinking.

“Why don’t I take a look around and see what else we might have on our hands?” He turned away from her before she could meet his eyes once more. It was better he not look for what wasn’t clearly there.

Unlike the packed dirt on the opposite side of the planter. Clearly pressed into the ground were two hoof prints.

Huh.

He circled around looking for more tracks, but there were none to be found. He was lucky to have seen any at all, since most of the garden was covered in loose wood chips to stave off pests. So why was this one section uncovered?

“Hermione, come look at this.”

She joined him where he stood bent. “Oh! What’s this?”

Squatting down, she waved her wand in an intricate series of motions over the hoof prints. Moments later, a shimmering image appeared in the air before them.

“Is that…a deer?” Neville cocked his head in fascination. Of all critters, he hadn’t expected one of the most obvious threats to gardens. Hermione’s quick inhale had him looking over at her in alarm. “What?”

“I might be mad, but I think that’s a deer track.”

He swung back around to inspect the image once more. “Huh. I think you might be right.”

“Do you suppose it just jumped over my fence? I thought wild deer were extinct here, though I have heard of reindeer farms in Scotland.”

This time it was Neville turn to look at Hermione in amusement.

“What?”

“What about flying reindeer?”

The transitioning expressions on her face were comical to observe. First, her brow crinkled in what he thought to be disbelief. She frowned, her mouth dropping open before shutting again. Her head tilted, hands moving to her hips in that stance she’d perfected growing up and now seldomly used. Neville couldn’t help but grin at the sight of it once more.

“Neville Longbottom, have you lost the plot? There’s no such thing as a flying reindeer. That’s a myth, just like Father Christmas.”

“According to who?”

“According to everyone? I learned he wasn’t real when I was barely three-years-old!”

Neville hummed in understanding. “What if I told you that he’s considered very real in the Wizarding World?”

“I’d say you’re barmy.” She winked to soften the slight, and he warmed at the reassurance.

“He was a real wizard, just as magical as you and me, and he flew around in a sleigh pulled by reindeer. Some stories are based in fact, you know.”

She gaped at him, hands now dropped at her side. He would have laughed if he didn’t already know better. He simply waited her out, continuing to hold his smile.

“Well, my goodness. I don’t even know what to think.”

“I’m happy to share some other known facts if you’re interested.”

She nodded slowly and looked back down at the tracks on the ground. “So you’re saying these flying reindeer landed in my garden, forcefully enough to clear the woodchips I might add, and ate all my herbs?”

“‘I’m saying just that.”

“That’s,” she let out an incredulous laugh, “beyond anything I would have ever considered. I would have even thought of the legendary Hogwarts yeti before a flying reindeer!”

This time it was Neville’s turn to give her a blank look.

“What? Hagrid never told you about the yeti that’s often been seen around the castle in the winter?”

“No….” Was she having him ‘round the bend?

She nodded solemnly. “Ask any of the professors or ghosts. There have been stories about the Hogwarts yeti for ages. You can read all about it in the school records.”

Of course Hermione would have read school records of decades past, probably even centuries. Neville wasn’t sure why he was even surprised anymore, but that was just how she was. It was a large part of what he loved about her most: her inquisitive mind, a compassion for absolutely anyone and everyone in need, her unwavering loyalty and friendship. He couldn’t imagine not having Hermione in his life. He wanted her in his life everyday.

“You still have some bunches of mallowsweet left; I’m surprised they didn’t go after those first.”

Should he just go ahead and ask her?

“You’re right! That is curious.” She came around closer to him to inspect the innocuous plant. Neville had suggested she grow them as pollinators. He’d assured her that they were hardy and could survive almost any climate thrown at them. “I wonder if there’s some inherent defensive quality that deters grazers.”

The Herbologist in him could have pointed out mallowsweet leaves offered very little in the form of flavor or purpose for potion making. Chances were the reindeer hadn’t even been interested. He’d tried smoking mallowsweet with Hannah and Susan in Fourth Year to little effect. Whatever properties it afforded was still a mystery.

The man in him recognized an opportunity and decided to take it.

“What do you say we hold a stake out and see if any reindeer return to finish the job?” 

Eyes the color of rich dark chocolate looked up at him from beneath thick lashes. She smelled just as sweet–or was that the mallowsweet?

“Like an overnight kind of stake out?”

He slowly let his breath out, willing himself not to give away his nerves or appear too excited. “Something like that.”

“Are you free tonight?”

His heart was threatening to leap right out his chest.

“I can be.”

She looked up fully at him now, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Should I ready binoculars and disguises?”

“What are binoculars?”

A tinkle of laughter cascaded down like a refreshing morning mist. “They’re like portable telescopes you can wear around your neck. Or omnioculars, if you’ve ever used those, but without the fancy slow and rewind features.”

He chuckled, now understanding the silly image she painted. “Somehow, I think the reindeer won’t require either. We can just watch from the comfort of your home.” He looked over towards the window of the cottage where he could already make out a window seat just made for reading. It looked large enough for two people to easily fit. “Remind me later that I have some trailing houseplants you’d really like. They’d go perfect with your little alcove.”

She followed his line of sight, then looked back up at him and stepped closer. “Your expertise applies to interior decoration, as well?”

Just recently, he’d outfitted the entirety of Pansy Parkinson’s opulent Diagon penthouse with all manner of exotic houseplants and far too many holly berries. He’d barely escaped with his dignity intact; she’d been set on thanking him personally with the insistence that Galleons weren’t enough to display her gratitude. There was something intensely terrifying about her talon-sharp nails and the click of her heels against granite as she prowled after him.

Neville gulped and tried not to infer anything from the innocent question. “I’ve given advice to others before.”

“Do you do that often?” He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but Neville was certain Hermione was implying something other than just the obvious. There was a shine to her eyes that reminded him a bit of Pansy, only he hoped this one reflected his own interest.

“Only for friends who ask and clients who pay very well.”

“I didn’t ask, though.”

There was a long strand of hair that had escaped her hair tie, and he couldn’t help but reach out and twirl the end around his fingers. There was no missing the way her breath caught at the action, or how she now looked up at him, lips parted, like she was wanting.

He couldn’t hide the truth from her now, not with her looking at him like that, not with the silky cinnamon curls clinging to his knuckles like they didn’t want to let go.

“You’re special.”

“I think you’re pretty special, too, Nev,” she said softly.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she licked her lips.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah?” The question was a whisper between them. Was she rising up towards him, or was he lowering down?

“I’d really, really like to kiss you, but I don’t want to be too forward.”

They were mere inches away now, close enough for him to imagine what she might taste like. Did she taste as sweet as the smell enveloping them both? What kind of pretty sounds would she make?

“Consider this my invitation.” Fingers curled into the front of his wool cloak and tugged him the final stretch.

Whether it was reindeer or another creature completely who partook of Hermione’s herbs, Neville would have to express his gratitude personally one day. Their excellent taste had afforded him his own chance to indulge, which he did with relish.

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3.

I absolutely adore Nevmione. The idea of a man with the confidence and expertise to overhaul an entire garden and greenhouse is just…OOOMPH. Grow things for me, baby. Show me those strong hands and shoulders! What better kind of partner to share a home and future with?

I actually grew up in Alaska where we do have reindeer farms and wild caribou. They’ve always been one of my favorite type of deer, alongside moose, which are also in abundance. I used to go to the LARS (large animal research station) at UAF to see them and the musk ox, especially in the spring with the yearlings. Did you know reindeer gobble up lichen like candy?

[mikhael0325]

What is STEM?

STEM stands for science, technology, engineering, and math. It is a method of learning and growth.(Government of Western Australia, 2016). As someone who wants to have a career that is in between science and mathematics, STEM is the best strand for me. It provides the knowledge that I need in preparation for my college education as well as my future career or job. But, sometimes I wonder: what is the true reason why I chose stem?

When I was a kid, I had many interests in a lot of things, i once dreamt of being a pilot. But due to my fear of crashing or getting into an accident, that dream of mine went extinct. After that, I spent a lot of years wondering what I want to be when I grow up.  As time went by, new interests came around. Especially with the new uprising of technology, I became engrossed in the world of mathematics, too.

So, what is technology? Although the answer might seem obvious, technology encompasses more than just gadgets and gizmos. As opposed to science's primary objective of just comprehending the workings of the natural world, technology focuses on taking action to address human needs.It employs far more than just scientific information, emphasizing values over facts and actual skill over academic understanding. And lastly It involves systematic methods of operation. It encompasses the interactions between goods (machines, gadgets, artifacts) and the systems and individuals who create, utilize, or are otherwise impacted by them through diverse processes.(Lane, 2019).

Technology does not only revolve around electronics,the reason why I was curious about technology is about the way they work and process, the way they function, and how they were built to work. I realized this some time ago, while I was playing with my toys. I started to wonder why they do not work any longer when damaged. so, I opened one up and saw the parts that were making this specific toy work. I tried fixing it until I managed to make it function the way it did before. I thought to myself, if I can fix this,  what other things could I possibly take apart and learn about how they function. That interest grew over time and it became my hobby. I learned that the silly little hobby of mine is actually a part of engineering; whereas engineering is a branch of STEM, I wanted to learn more about the roots of how technologies work and ponder what creative ideas I can build around that root. That is the reason why I chose to pursue engineering and entering STEM along the way. 

STEM is so much more than what we think. It is scattered all around us. The gravity that holds us down and stable, the right amount of money we owe the jeepney driver, the phones we use all the time, and even the count of every heartbeat we accomplish everyday. I could say that STEM is the study of every single thing the world possesses (or even outside our Earth.) It is just the norm until we take a closer look. Maybe put it under a microscope. It is life, a vision, and most importantly, our future. This will be my instrument to serve the world a change for the better. Like they say: Hands on, Hearts on, Minds on.