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sovtwords · 3 years ago

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the doctor and the monster - futakuchi kenji and aone takanobu

pairing: futakuchi kenji x reader x aone takanobu

warnings: 18+, slight DC, dubious consent, dom/sub dynamics, power play/dynamics, size kink, doggystyle, orgasm denial, barebacking, creampie, orgasm delay/denial, belly bulge, masturbating, cum swallowing, squirting, emotional manipulation, porn making/videos

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: welcome to chapter 3 of thirteen nights of whorror! please read the tags before proceeding - if you think i am missing anything let me know and i'll fix it. this chapter is inspired by frankenstein and his monster. enjoy! feedback is appreciated!

- ao3 link -

Thirteen Nights of Whorror MASTERLIST

If there was a fine line between what was ethically right and wrong from your perspective as an assistant to Dr. Futakuchi Kenji, you’re almost certain that you’ve barrelled over the latter side months ago, and this was not helping your case.

Futakuchi’s greatest creation – a mass pile of dead limbs brought back to life, a man of solid muscle, daunting height and lips that stay sealed, only to emit grunts from a face that seems forever etched in a scowl. Aone, he calls him.

He is terrifying, as he is heart-breaking.

It was always going to be an unethical experiment, you knew that, but your arrogance, your wild pursuit of knowledge and legendary status as a scientist was enough to have you running blindly into the arms of Dr. Futakuchi Kenji, a man who toyed with your mind and body as much as he did with his special project.

And after a gruelling three years of trial and error, of late nights pouring over notes and destroying vials, Futakuchi finally got his wish of bringing the dead back to life. This creature - Aone - stood tall and menacing, a tower of terror, looking to his creators for guidance like a lost soul wandering in the dark.

Makes you wonder if he even had one in this form.

Which is exactly what Futakuchi intends to find out.

You can’t say you were an entirely willing party to the new onslaught of experiments the Doctor had lined up. Some were basic – lift a hand here, walk over there, pick up the ball and balance it on your head. Some were outright cruel.

Stick your hand into the flames, Aone.

Stop breathing, Aone.

Kill that bird, Aone.

One command, right after the other. All in the name of science.

But this one seems like a step too far, and you should never have agreed to it.

You lay panting on the leather chaise, a mess of sweat and shaking limbs, a body so hot it almost feels feverish, yet the hands gripping your hips are cold. So very cold. Almost lifeless. But you know Aone better than that. His heart may not beat, but it’s bigger and purer than anyone’s, especially your own blackened heart.

Your walls fight to accommodate his length, a size so huge and long just like the man it belongs to. It’s rock hard in your core, sitting like a stone in your pussy and waiting for the command from his creator to come so it can plunge itself in and out and destroy you once more. You’re dripping wet, cum as thick as treacle oozing out of your cunt and sticking to your thighs in clumps, with a milky ring found at the bottom of his cock.

Your arms are weak and struggling to lift your body off the couch, but you find the last remaining bit of strength you have in you to raise yourself up the slightest and lock eyes with your superior.

Doctor Futakuchi sits before you both with a critical eye, soaking up every expression, every sound, every movement like a sponge and recording them into mental notes to look back on later. His toned legs are spread wide, his trousers pushed down his hips and shirt lifted to show off his abs, and a calloused hand holds his cock up with gentle strokes, the tip a glaring red and weeping with precum that you always adored licking up like the good kitten he always called you.

It’s enough to have you shivering in place, and those big hands on your hips grow tighter as you involuntarily clench around Aone’s dick.

“Mm,” Futakuchi hums. Slender fingers squeeze the base of his cock. “I think this position is much better. Easier on the little doctor, hmm?”

His smirk is twisted and sinful but it makes your cunt burn in pleasure. Oh, how he’s teased you for so long, brought you close and touched you in ways that made you scream only to keep you at arm’s length the whole time, and you fell for his fleeting smiles and his empty promises.

But maybe you were just part of this elaborate plan all along. Another tool to be used for his greatest joy and pride in life – the gentle monster forged by his own hands.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” the brunette asks with a coo that sounds as genuine as the someone telling you the grass was blue. You can only give a croak in response, a weak groan as you involuntarily shift your weight and take Aone’s cock further inside of you. Futakuchi snorts. “Use your words. What about you, big guy?”

Aone remains as silent as ever, yet the deathly tight grip on your waist gives him away; fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your skin, nails just shy of biting into your skin as the subtle rise and fall of a chest hovering over your back keeps you warm. It’s almost like he’s fighting to keep his composure, holding back an unknown energy that’s no doubt been building up for the last few hours as Futakuchi has ordered him to take you in any position he demands.

For science, he says, to see if every part of him is truly alive. For his own sick pleasure, more like.

The Doctors’ laugh cuts through your thoughts like a scalpel.

“Should have known better than to expect an answer from you.”

Aone emits a grunt, a sound that voices his displeasure at being mocked in such a way. You glare at Futakuchi through the haze of lust clouding your senses, but he only smirks at you, finding his own joke endlessly amusing. Trust him to bring a man back from the dead and try to start a fight with it.

“Aww, you think I’m being mean?”

“Y-Yes. You are,” you snap, feeling your legs tingle with restlessness and your knees hurt from the awkward friction of the leather couch. “You are cruel to him. He doesn’t deserve t-that! This whole thing is one big joke. This is wrong.”

Dr Futakuchi’s eyes darken; a darkness you had only seen on nights when his experiments failed him, when his work was torn to tatters and violent storms brewed behind his eyes. He was angry. Betrayal and disobedience from his most trusted, his beloved little assistant, must taste so bitter. He snorts without a hint of amusement, curling his lips up into a feral sneer.

“I’ll show you just how cruel I can be, doctor.” Brown eyes lock with Aone’s. “Fuck her. Hard. And keep your hands away from her clit. If you even remember where it is.”

There’s a beat of silence as the weight of his words descend upon you, but it’s a moment too short to fully prepare for what’s to come as Aone dutifully acquiesces with his creator’s request. Just as he has been made to do.

His cock pulls out at an agonisingly slow pace, and with the sheer size of it you can feel your walls retracting to their original state, clenching around a glaring emptiness that has you whining until the air is ripped from your chest as Aone gives his first, hard thrust and doesn't stop.

It's difficult to gain your bearings when his pace and strength are relentless, hips slapping against yours so heavily you're convinced they'll turn black with the bruising but he doesn't stop. He can't. Forever doomed to do his Master’s bidding, and the assault on your already aching cunt has tears springing to your eyes, unable to blink them away fast enough and avoid having Dr Futakuchi witness the droplets streaming down your face. But he laughs. He laughs at your tears.

You’re scrambling to find purchase on the leather, nails scraping and digging into fabric frantically, but you just can’t do anything but collapse onto the chaise as Aone pounds into you at a brutal pace, one that feels so fucking good despite the roughness of it. And when he adjusts, when he moves his hips ever so slightly, you scream out loud for everyone to hear as his cock brushes repeatedly over your G-spot until you’re seeing stars dance behind closed eyelids and a weird sense of dizziness takes over you.

Aone grunts into your shoulder when you tighten like a vice around him, squeezing hard and not letting up so long as he continues to assault the spongy flesh inside your walls. His cock is so big that when he reaches a hand around your waist to cradle your belly, he feels his member bulging through your flesh, and it drives you insane as you feel your peak build again for what feels like the millionth time that night. Your sex is twitching, it aches, it’s begging for rest, but Futakuchi doesn’t care.

You can tell Aone is getting close by the way his thrusts grow harsher, more abrupt, until you’re nearly falling off the couch, held up only by his strong grip on your body. Through your haze you just about manage to see Futakuchi rubbing himself faster, pumping furiously at his length while your cries and screams get louder as you approach your high.

And he knows you’re close. He’s been with you long enough to know all your tells; the way your eyes roll back into your skull, how your moans come sporadically rather than constantly as they break off in euphoria, the furrow of your brows and the clench of your fingers.

Which is exactly why he uses this moment to speak up again.

“Aone – stop.”

Like a switch that was just pulled Aone’s hips stop immediately. There was no gradual stop, no twitch of his hips – just dead stillness while his shaft pulsed in time with the sad fluttering of your walls that are fighting to find release, to resume the delicious thrusting so you can finally come. The frustrated cry you let out is pathetic, and Dr Futakuchi seems to agree.

“Aww, do you not like that? Did I stop you from cumming?”

“Y-You bastard!” you wail into the seat beneath you, trying and failing to grind your hips and finish the job yourself, but with exhaustion slowing your movements and Aone gripping your hips hard it’s hard to fall over the edge even though you’re right fucking there.

Aone doesn’t seem to be faring any better. Were it not for his face shoved into the crook of your neck, you would have missed the little whines of displeasure that rumble out of his chest, and your heart aches for the torture he must be feeling as well.

“Do you want to cum?” Dr Futakuchi asks, and the speed you nod your head is embarrassing. He doesn’t seem satisfied, though. “Say it.”

“I want to cum so bad, please please just- let me cum!” You’ve been through this song and dance for the past few hours now – you’re not about to let your pride get in the way now. Anything to shut him up and let you find satisfaction. But he shakes his head no as the thumbs the tip of his dick, hips jerking and teeth gritting.

“As much as I like to hear you beg, that’s not what I was looking for.”

You look at him in confusion. He narrows his eyes in contempt.

“Say that this is the right thing to do. That I was right all along. This is for science, after all. My- our breakthrough is going to change the world.”

He sneers down at you as he rises to his full height, wandering over to wave his cock in your face tauntingly. You bite your lip, shake your head.

“N-No…”

Dr Futakuchi shrugs.

“Then you don’t get to cum. I’ll order Aone to exit the room, and I’ll leave you here alone. But admit that I was right, and you’ll get what you want.”

Thoughts of having to lay here all night, body spent but unsatisfied, has you panicking, and though the words are like acid on your tongue, you know in the end that these are only words to appease the monster before you.

“You…” swallowing hard, you avoid his gaze, staring at the science award you won years ago that he hung on the wall for you. It almost laughs at your misfortune. A top scientist brought down to her knees, so weak, so compliant. “Y-you were…right…”

Silence. Those three words are all he will get from you. All is quiet for a moment, until the doctor laughs again.

“Good girl,” he sighs, and moves to pat your face condescendingly, and it’s cruel how it sends a beat to your core. “Was that so hard?” Eyes move from yours to Aone’s.

“Resume. And this time play with her clitoris until she tells you to stop.”

Aone doesn’t need to be told twice. Maintaining the same angle and speed, your orgasm begins to build much faster now, especially when thick fingers rub over your bud with great speed. You scream above the obscene sound of your wet pussy gushing around Aone’s cock, above the hisses and grunts of Dr Futakuchi as he jerks himself off right in front of your face.

All it takes is two more thrust to have you squirting around Aone’s member, mouth dropping open and drool spilling out the corners of your lips as you finally orgasm, a rush of heat spreading from your head to your curling toes. It’s heavenly as it is painful to reach your peak once more, body so terribly overstimulated that tears fall down your cheeks in streams. The suddenness of your orgasm cause Aone to cum with you, shooting more and more loads of useless cum into your womb and filling you up. It’s just as well – he can’t get you pregnant with that kind of semen.

Futakuchi takes advantage of your open mouth and surprises you by pressing his cock into your mouth and spilling his seed down your throat while you fight to swallow it down without choking.

He sighs in satisfaction, thrusting lightly into the warmth of your mouth and smiling down at you with such sweetness you’re almost inclined to believe it was genuine in your post-orgasm haze.

“See how easy things are when everybody just does what I tell them to?”

He tuts as he crouches down to be eye level with you. His kiss is firm and as mind-blowing as the first he gave you many months ago, and you hate yourself for being so terribly in love with this monster of a man.

“Aone, go back to your room. You’re done here.”

Futakuchi kisses away your tears and silences your whimpers as Aone finally exits you, walls clenching around air and caught between wanting to be full again and enjoying reprieve. But it seems as though you don’t get to relish this moment for long.

Aone doesn’t make a sound as he leaves the room, only eyes the way your fingers stretch out to him with a sadness in his dark orbs, but unable to do anything than listen to his Master, closing the door behind him with a finality that makes your heart sink, especially when you look back to see Futakuchi removing his shirt and shimmying his pants down his lithe legs.

“Now, I think it’s my turn to do some experiments up close and personal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You say nothing, and bury your head in your arms as cum pours out of your awaiting pussy.

You gulp down your bottle of water as if it was the first drop you’d received while lost in a desert, the bottle nearly crushing under your grip as you keep chugging until you hit the very last drop, swallowing it down with haste and relishing the coolness of it running through your body.

Your whole body aches; your legs are cramping, your back is arched awkwardly, not to mention the massive dick that’s been hammering into you for the past few hours, only stopping if the script demands it or if it’s time for a break like now. You’re grateful for the breather, for the fan placed directly in front of you to cool you down, for Aone’s gentle hands that massage your sore hips and thighs as he slips out of you for the duration of the break.

But you loathe Futakuchi for messing up his lines nearly every take so far and prolonging this entire affair. Sex was good, great even, depending on the person you’re with, but sex for four hours while filming fancy porn was not. You hate yourself even more for demanding the perfect shot to be taken, for using the most artistic lighting that make you sweat out of every crevice with the heat they emit, for writing this damned script to begin with and casting Futakuchi Kenji of all fucking people.

The man was hot as fuck and had a good dick but good grief were you so over this already, and you haven’t even begun to feel satisfied with any of the takes you’ve filmed.

The brunette in question gasps loudly as he finishes his own bottle of water, tossing it over carelessly to your sound tech who looks ready to throttle him for the disrespect. You don’t blame her.

“Damn, this is so tiring. Who knew porn would be hard work?”

Aone’s hands still from their soothing motions on your aching muscles, shock evident in all of his minor movements, and you match his bewilderment with a lot more anger than him. The audacity of Kenji to complain about how hard this is when all he had to do was memorise his fucking lines and jerk off.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What?”

“How do you think I feel, asshole?! Or how Aone feels?”

“Uhh, pretty good? You’re getting fucked and he gets to do it. Dunno what the problem is,” he snorts, but blanches at the sight of two dark glares pinning him down, feeling the weight of the judging eyes of the crew boring down on him as well.

He stutters, before falling silent and sitting on the couch like a chagrined lap dog.

“I’ll remember that,” you say threateningly as your makeup is touched up before the cameras are rolling again. “I’ll remember those exact words the next time we have sex. We’ll see how you like it when I bring out the strap and fuck you for four hours straight.”

“H-Huh?!”

“You heard me. Now get back into position for Scene 5 - and please, for God's sake, remember your lines!”

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

hello, I'd love to see newmann with 27 and 45 from the prompt fill you've been doing :)

27. sick/injured fic + 45. chocolate of romance

from fanfiction trope mashup here

another old fill…….

—————–

“You what?” Hermann says.

Newt sighs and wedges his cell phone between his ear and shoulder. Technically, the Shatterdome has very strict rules about cell phones in the med wing–the rules being definitely not allowed, because they interfere with the high-tech equipment they need to observe rangers’ brain scans or something like that–but Newt’s nurse is MIA and the other beds are empty, so he just snuck it out of his discarded jacket and crossed his fingers. It’s not his fault the only person who would visit him is busy half a world away. “I have appendicitis. Or, like–I did, I guess. Can’t really have appendicitis without an appendix. Ha!”

Hermann is quiet on the other end. Then: “Oh, Newton, you didn’t take it out yourself?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Newt says, though he can’t deny the thought crossed his mind as he rolled in agony on the lab floor, his scalpel just inches away. “No, I promise. I managed to get myself to medical in time.” He adjusts his phone again. “I can’t believe it’s just gone. A whole fucking organ. I kinda want to keep it in a jar or something on my desk. Like I’m Dr. Frankenstein.” That would be a hell of a conversation starter.

“Absolutely not,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, that’d be creepy.”

(It would be cool, actually.)

More silence from Hermann. He clears his throat. “Appendicitis. That’s…not too serious, is it?”

“Beats me,” Newt says. “It hurt like a bitch. I’m gonna have a pretty cool scar, though.” He lifts his bedsheet and hospital gown in one swoop to take a peep at his stitches: the scar won’t be quite as cool as the vaguely star-shaped one on his knee he got in college, but it’ll still look impressive.

“And you’re…” Hermann coughs this time, and when he speaks, it sounds like it’s being wrenched painfully out of him. Newt can’t help but smile. Trust Hermann to be allergic to even the smallest sign of emotion–even the smallest sign that he doesn’t, like, hate Newt’s guts. “…Alright? It all went well?”

“I’m fine,” Newt says. “They’re holding me hostage for a few days to make sure I don’t screw up my stitches. Anyway, I just wanted to say that if you get a call from medical later, don’t be worried. It’s just me!” He listed Hermann as his emergency contact years ago, mostly as a joke, but never really got around to changing it.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Hermann says, though he doesn’t really sound that glad.

“And, you know,” Newt says, “it’s kind of boring just sitting here. All alone.”

“Mm,” Hermann says. “I imagine.”

“No visitors,” Newt says.

Hermann sighs. “Newton, I can’t up and get on an airplane just because you want someone to coddle you. Perhaps you would have some visitors if you weren’t an utter, horrendous nightmare to every single one of our colleagues.”

“Right, right,” Newt says, grinning. That’s what he misses the most about Hermann, if he’s being honest: his bitchiness. No one ever insults him the way Hermann does.

“Hm,” Hermann says. “Well. Goodnight, Newton.”

Newt decides not to remind him that–here in Hong Kong–it’s solidly morning, and instead says, cheerfully (because Hermann’s put him in a spectacular mood), “Night, dude!”

It’s been…weird, here without Hermann. Newt knows it’s their job to do whatever’s asked of them to further the advancement of k-science–to go wherever they’re told to go, calculate whatever they’re told to calculate–but. It’s just that things had been going really good with Hermann, and Newt was starting to think they were reaching territory that might even be considered amicable, and then the night before Hermann had to pack up and leave for three whole months they drank a little too-much and got a little too-close on the lab couch–well, it’s just a bad time for Hermann to be away from him, is all. If Newt had his way, Hermann would be here, and maybe even closer than he’d been on the lab couch.

(“Three whole months,” Hermann said solemnly.

“Three boring months,” Newt said.

“Peaceful months,” Hermann said. “No one to make my life a living bloody nightmare–and a lab to myself–oh, I almost wish it was longer. I ought–” He spilled his drink onto his sweater. “–I ought to speak to the Marshal right now and ask him to make it permanent.”

Newt knew he was lying, just as well as he knew that there was no way Pentecost would ever let a mathematician as good as Hermann–high-maintenance and fussy as he was–out of his Shatterdome for good, but he did Hermann the favor of not pointing either of these things out. Instead, he ducked his head. “I’ll miss you,” he confessed.

“Oh, Newton,” Hermann sighed. “Yes, well. I’m sure I’ll miss you too.”

They looked at each other. Newt touched Hermann’s hand. “Goodbye present,” he said, and he leaned in, and Hermann leaned in, and…)

“Dr. Geiszler!” Newt’s nurse snaps, rearing his head back around Newt’s curtain, and Newt drops his phone with a clatter and a yelp.

“Sorry!” he says. “Sorry, I swear it was important!”

On the third day of his (visitor-less) hospital stay, Newt wakes to a bouquet of roses and a small pink box nestled alongside unappealing toast on his food tray. The roses are squished and wilted, and look like they’ve seen much better days; the box is shaped like a heart. Newton, a tag on each says. “What are these?” Newt says groggily.

“They were dropped off for you this morning,” Newt’s nurse says.

Newt waits until he’s gone to take off the lid of the box. It’s full of chocolate, it turns out, from the last candy shop still open in the city. A sheet inside advertises they contain two dozen different fillings, from caramel to strawberry to matcha. Under the sheet he finds a small, typed notecard:

I thought these might cheer you up.Dr. Hermann Gottlieb

“You sent me chocolate,” Newt says into the phone half an hour later, through a mouthful of about three of them. They’re fucking good. To be honest, though, wartime rationing means it’s been so long since Newt’s had chocolate that he might have just forgotten what it’s supposed to taste like. Hermann must’ve shelled out a fortune for it regardless. “That’s so corny.”

“And flowers,” Hermann says. He sounds grumpy. Right–time difference. He was probably just getting ready for bed when Newt called. “Or did they not turn up? It was a rather last-minute decision, and I had to place the order before midnight, so I had…limited options.”

That would explain the wilting. It’s the thought that counts, though. “They got here,” Newt says. “I can’t believe you did all this for me!”

“Yes, well,” Hermann says. “We are…”

He trails off. Newt smiles, even though he know Hermann can’t actually see it. (He hoped the event on the lab couch wouldn’t be a one-time thing.) “We are,” he agrees.

Hermann sniffs, and mumbles something that might be I miss you, if Newt thought Hermann was capable of being sentimental. “I will see you in another two weeks,” he says, somehow managing to sound flustered and gruff at the same time. He hangs up.

Later that week, Newt tucks the card into the corner of his bulletin board, next to a photo of Hermann looking particularly grumpy at the last Shatterdome New Year’s Eve party. He does still kind of wish he could keep the appendix.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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moosefrog · 5 years ago

Conversation

Halloween take two

Dick: That is NOT funny, you two.

Jason: Uh-oh, Damian. Dickybird has the grumps!

Damian: I agree, Grayson. This isn't funny, it's scary. As per your instructions.

Dick: You two dressing up as ZOMBIES for Halloween is just... tasteless!

Jason: Boo. Hoo. Hoo. Also, it's very hurtful to use the word 'zombie'. Technically, we're, what? Re-animated corpses?

Damian: Mm. I'm unfamiliar with the correct terminology.

Jason: C'mon, Damian! You lived with a guy who constantly got brought back from the dead, right?

Damian: *arches an eyebrow* So, you want me to call you 'grandfather'? Because that is what I had called him.

Jason: Ewwwwah! Never call me that. Ew! Responsibility cooties!

Dick: Can't you two pick different costumes? You'll upset Alfred!

Damian: *sighs* Very well. Todd, if you go as Dr. Frankenstein, I'll be his monster.

Jason: Ha! How come you get to be the monster, and not me?

Damian: Because I have had all of my major organs replaced at least once, if not more times. Before I hit puberty.

Jason: ...

Dick: ...

Jason: ...when did you hit puberty?

Dick: Ugh! Why can't you guys wear something like what Tim has on?

Jason: He's wearing a tiger onesie.

Dick: It's adorable!

Damian: tt. He's not wearing a costume, it's his pyjamas. He came downstairs looking for his laptop charger and fell asleep on the sofa.

Dick: *slowly drags a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath*

Alfred: Teaaaaaaa? Teaaaaaaaa, young maaasters?

Dick: If I turn around, am I going to see Alfred dressed as a zombie, too?

Jason: Mebbe.

Damian: 'Zombie horde' is a group costume.

Dick: *siiiiiiiighs* Have any extra makeup?

Jason: Told ya, Babybat, Dick's a sucker for a group costume!

#batman #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #i can't stop writing these #sorry not sorry #lol post

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missholson · 5 years ago

Text

SHIP HISTORY MEME

Embrace your past and get to know your friends’ fandom origins!

Rules: Post gifs of your fandoms / ships starting with your most current hyperfixation and work backwards. (Bonus points if you share any stories about how or when you got into that ship! But not necessary!!) Then tag anyone whose fandom history you’d like to learn about!

Tagged by the sweet @unwillingadventurer, thank you girls! <3

Hoffmann & Tennstedt (Das Boot) The baby face & the stone face. :) The biggest reason for this series is my sister, who tried to lure me into the fandom already last summer by showing the first episode. Sadly it was a far too distressing experience. The story is about a WW2 German warfare, so it isn’t very light entertainment for Saturday night. The show seemed like a worth watching production, though, but I doubted if I could ever watch it completely. After visiting Berlin now in February 2020 there was no hesitation anymore. The story focuses on the Nazi German submarine, U-612, and the occupied city of La Rochelle in France. However, not everything is as black and white as one might expect. One of the biggest messages of the show is that war is always brutal, no matter which side you fight. The innocent are always suffering. It also shows how the ideal thoughts of warfare crumble, if it comes at the cost of greed, deception, health or life. There is disagreement among the leaders on boat, too. The new commander, kaleun Klaus Hoffmann, is young and inexperienced but kind-hearted and wise. Next on the scale, IWO Karl Tennstedt, is an experienced sailor and an glory-seeking soldier, who envies Hoffamann's position. He regards Hoffmann as incompetent and a disgrace to Germany. So, there is plenty of tension between these two!

Louis & Philippe (Versailles) I started watching the show sometime in 2015, but found it quite distasteful. It was more brutal than expected, and I was overwhelmed by people's greed and dirty behavior, so I stopped watching after a few episodes. Every now and then I saw pics/gifs on Tumblr, especially of Monsieur and Chevalier, that I finally wanted to give another chance in January 2020. This time the experience was the opposite, and I got a better grip on the story. I was surprised how little I liked the popular Monchevy pair and, instead, so much the quarreling brothers. I was very moved when they joked with each other and showed brotherly love. In the scenes of conflict, I missed their compassion. I haven't watched the rest of seasons 2-3 yet, so I don't know if they get better. I hope so because together they would be a powerful duo.

Matt & Cherry (Red River) I had recorded Red River (1948) on my set-top box, and the closing date was expiring in December 2018. It was Montgomery Clift’s breakthrough movie, so it was a must see. The movie was a refreshingly different western, where the hero is not a macho cowboy and John Wayne a bad guy for a change. But most of all, I was amazed how Cherry Valance's behavior towards Matt Garth was so heavily double entendre. At first they are presented as challengers and opponents of each other. Slowly Cherry starts to show admiration for Matt, and increasingly talks about his gun. In return, Matt needs Cherry's shooting skills to herd cattle. Eventually they become each other's trusted ones. I always find it fascinating, if tension begins to develop between the opposing characters. If the story has a couple that doesn't change, develope or lacks dynamics, it probably won't arouse interest.

Fritz & Dr. Frankenstein (Frankenstein) I had seen a Tumblr gif of Renfield crawling in Dracula (1931) in August 2018. It was Dwight Frye’s breakthrough role. The movie inspired me to watch other Universal monster movies, of which Frankenstein (1931) became my favorite. The work pair of the story, these two outcasts of society, melted my heart. For unexplained reason they have joined their forces and seem to be working well together. They have a mutual partnership, where they can act naturally without fear. Their work is unique, e.g. digging the graves or snatching hanged bodies, but they treat it like any other dayily job. Somehow, I like this way of approach. Actually I have written about Fritz already earlier, where I take a closer look at their relationship. The text can be read here.

Adrian & Antony (Sebastiane) Well, this couple is a specialty of its own. They are another ones found through Tumblr. I saw a picture of them in June 2018 which led me to watch the film. In terms of story or acting, it's not a very special movie but technically professional level. First of all, it was shot under the blazing Sicilian sun on 35 mm film. The light is a vital factor when using a film camera, so the pictures look very rich. The scenes, where these two are having fun together in slow motion, are breathtaking. I had never seen anything like it before and, in my opinion, stole all the attention of the story since they were just characters in supporting roles. It was like a gay paradise on earth. Here I realize the importance in the way how the characters are presented. The technical presentation can play a surprisingly huge role when we try to read and understand the characters. It can influence us either to share their thoughts or to move even further away from them. Bonus points I give for Latin, which the entire cast is speaking in the film. I would also like to clarify that this is not a p**n movie or a family movie either. It’s a gay erotic story with some full frontal nudity.

Reinhold & Conrad I’m not sure if this is a ship or fandom, but I feel extreme warmth and joy for this pair (the Berlin trip may have something to do with this). They are also the only people from real life instead of characters. I’d like to share my story about them, unfortunately it's very long (I've never been a fluent writer) but explains my interest in more detail. I got to know Conrad Veidt already in high school at the turn of the millennium, the time before DVDs. Near the school there was a buy-sell-exchange movie shop, where my sister and I visited regularly. Somehow we ended up with the idea that we wanted to see The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), so we went to the store again. There was no copy, as expected, but the seller said he would keep in mind if one came up. Months passed and after a long break we visited our regular place again. This time, the man had news for us: he had received a copy and kept it in safe for us. We couldn’t believe our eyes and ears. First of all, the kindness of the man made us speechless, and secondly, we never thought we would get our own copy of such popular rarity. At that time movies were not re-released as often as they are today. It was a VHS cassette, bw, not tinted like the original version, and its quality was far from the 4K richness and sharpness. My sister still has the tape and is one of the treasures she will never give away. For years the film was the only Conrad movie we saw, along with Casablanca - until the digital age and the social media arrived. Again I have to thank Tumblr, where I found the actor Anton Walbrook. One of his most famous films, Viktor und Viktoria (1933), is directed by Reinhold Schünzel, whom I knew from Conrad's film Different from the Others (1919). I began to study Reinhold's background more closely in December 2017, and it turned out that he is a forgotten multi-talent in the film industry: He was a versatile performer in comedies and dramas, a prolific director and an idea-rich screenwriter. He had an eye for creating stories that were told in the minds of people in addition to acting and lines. He questioned gender roles and built juicy plot twists around them. He loved theater and was a popular celebrity in 1920’s Germany. He was also a colleague and friend of Conrad. They began their film careers at the same time in Richard Oswald's films, shared the ups and downs, even their wardrobe, and reached fame. Eventually they both had to emigrate from the national socialist Germany, so their paths parted. The following reunions were always a joy, “like the meeting of comrades who fought in many wars together”. Reinhold was supposed to direct Conrad’s first film at MGM in Hollywood, but the plans were changed. They never got to work together since the German years, when Conrad died suddenly. “Part of my life is gone forever”, as Reinhold wrote in his tribute to Connie's death in 1943. He returned to Germany in the end of 1940s and died in Munich in 1954. This is why they are so precious to me and why I find it important to share the memory of these two lifelong friends. The picture is from Eerie Tales (1919), one of their earliest movies together with the director: Reinhold, Richard and Conrad. Reinhold’s full tribute can be read here.

I’m tagging: @wohlbruecks, @perfides-subjekt, @kennyboybarrett, @chapinfan69, @electricnormanbates, @ars-historia-est, @suchamiracle-does-exist and anyone who likes to do it. Would you like to share your stories behind your otps? :)

#tag post #ship history meme #ships & fandoms #personal #many thanks for posting this #unwillingadventurer #this was so much fun to do #it gave a much needed break to the situation we are living atm #i guess that’s why the text became so long sorry for that #i had to write it in finnish first #in order to get a proper structure #these are my current ships/fandoms #bbc sherlock & johnlock was the reason i ever started on here #own post

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akatdollie · 6 years ago

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SasoThird Verses.

The first of many ship-specific AU lists. Rip mun.

Under a cut to add more later.

Canon Divergent, Through a Looking Glass, Darkly. A tale of a loyal shinobi who goes through extreme lengths to protect what is his. While described somewhat positively in this ask here, it’s really delves into the meaning of art as Sasori defines it, messing with stalker-ish themes. He integrates himself into the Third’s life and fosters codependency between them, all while struggling with the question: to kill or not to kill? (He opts not to.)

Canon Divergent, Modus Operandi—Euthanasia Alt. It is my headcanon that males of the Kazekage line are cursed to die before the age of 40. Knowing this, and that his time is running short, the Third requests Sasori convert him into a puppet before his time is up. I have written some scenes from this AU here, which explores an additional what-if? Scenario in the event that the Third Kazekage was resurrected in the Fourth Shinobi war—and went to find his killer. (Don’t get excited; it is very short.)

Modern Verse—Doctor Alt. Sasori falls in love with the coma patient from Room 333 and decides to forge his death certificate and take him home. Said coma patient, against all odds, wakes up—without memories. Lucky Sasori. The stranger, limited by his own savior/captor, struggles to discover who he really is, while Sasori manufactures a life they have spent together. He again falls in love with the man he’s imprisoned—and eventually grows to regret what he has done.

Canon Divergent, Same Age AU—Scorpion. It’s sickeningly sweet and I love it. The Third is born a generation later. He and Sasori grow up as childhood friends, after the young noble spots Sasori mourning his parents. Due to his youth, Third is unable to become Kazekage until after a devastating defeat in the Second Shinobi war. The two may or may not be captured by enemies for a time.

Canon Divergent, Same Age AU—Leo. Developed with the Third of @satetsukaiho in particular. Sasori is born a generation earlier, and is Chiyo’s son. She is killed in battle, and Sasori goes to live with relatives—puppeteers that travel along the desert wastelands, looking for villages to swindle and merchants to pillage. They are eventually hunted down by the Kazekage’s forces. Sasori, leader of the caravan, surrenders in return for a favor—but he never says what the favor is. Damn that trickster.

Post-Apocalyptic Verse, Puppet Alt. Third is an incredibly obedient robot based on the skills and appearance of a once dead politician; Sasori is the misanthrope who loves him. He is, also, a little bit nuts. They both are. Something prideful may be haunting this electronic shell. Something horrible. But that’s why we love them, mm? (Private RP only.)

Not really verses but underdeveloped ideas:

The Stranger — An unknown waiter is happy to keep a businessman company, until he is asked to join him for dinner.

Dr. Frankenstein — Sasori builds himself a boyfriend, and immediately regrets it. (Damn you Ryozen.)

Angels & Demons — an archangel is torn from heaven and forced to serve an incubus who doesn’t particularly care for sex.

Obligatory Ghost AU — the one where a husband haunts his widow and for once it isn’t Sasori’s fault, much.

And that’s all, folks! (For now.)

Feel free to send more into my inbox!

#ooc #sasothird #sasori #third kazekage #sandaime kazekage #sasori of the red sand #[SasoThird Verses]#///need another tag for this pair...#///tbh i have even more but that's all i can remember at the moment #at least the important ones

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swanqueeneverafter · 6 years ago

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After The Sunset, Pt.25

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Upon entering Bo Peep’s barn, David searches for and then is attacked by Anna, knocking him to the ground.) Anna: “Oops. I thought you were them.” David: (Groans, holds up Anna’s necklace:) “Got your necklace back.” Anna: “You did it. You fought, and... You won.” David: “Well, don't be so surprised. It was your idea.” Anna: “Yeah, I just didn't think we had the time. I mean, I hoped we did, and I had faith in you.” David: “Okay. You were right. It was an impossible battle... Which is why I had to fight it.” Anna: “What changed your mind? (Helping him to his feet:) It didn't get more impossible.” David: “When she took you.” Anna: “You barely know me.” David: “I was starting to. And what you said about your sister, uh... I might be able to survive, but... I also have to be able to live with myself, and I... I can't do that if I'm trapped in a life I don't want. Now, I think it's time we get you on your way.” Anna: “Thank you.” Enchanted Forest. Past. The Dark Castle. Belle: “Looks like you won't be needing that bow anymore.” Rumplestilskin: “Actually, I think I'll hold onto it. You never know. Could come in handy someday.” Belle: “Well, uh, if you don't need me for anything else, good night, Rumplestiltskin.” Rumplestilskin: “No, wait. There is something else. (He takes her to a room in his castle that has thousands of books lining the walls:) Temper your excitement, dearie. This is merely another room for you to clean.” Belle: “It's... it's beautiful. There's more books in here than I could read in a lifetime.” Rumplestilskin: “Well, I hope you can clean faster than you can read.”

Belle: “Did you do all this for me?” Rumplestilskin: “I better not see a single speck of dust gathering on any of these books. What are you smiling at? I'm serious.” Belle: “You're not who I thought you were. And I'm glad.” Enchanted Forest. Present. (Rumplestiltskin stands alone anxiously looking at his hand, which we can see is turning green and scaly, much like when he was the Dark One.)

Enchanted Forest. Dark Castle. Recent Past. (Rumplestiltskin stands in the main room of his former home as Belle returns with a book.) Belle: "Here, I found it." Rumplestiltskin: (Reading the cover:) “An Alphabetized Inventory of Magical Antiquities. Sounds a bit dense.” Belle: “No, this is a wonderful book. It's a record of every magical item in the kingdom.” Rumplestiltskin: “And you’re going to use this to arrange things back at the shop?” Belle: (Chuckles:) “Not quite. We’re going to use this to return any item in the shop that’s in this book to it’s rightful place.” Rumplestiltskin: “Belle, you don’t have to do this.” Belle: “No, I want to. Rumple, this is about leaving your past behind you, and I think this will help with that. (Notices as he stiffens:) What is it?” Rumplestiltskin: “There’s someone here. Someone with magic. You stay here and keep reading and I’ll go see who it is.” (Before Belle can argue, Rumplestiltskin vanishes from the room.) Dark Palace. Gardens. (Reappearing outside, Rumplestiltskin sees Alice stood waiting for him.) Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, Alice, It’s you. What are you doing here?” Alice: (Scrunches up her face:) "I'm not sure really. I think she said I was the distraction?" Rumplestiltskin: "Distraction? For who, for what?" Alice: "That's not been made clear to me quite yet. But don't worry, (Winks:) I like a good puzzle." Jabberwocky: (Appearing behind her:) "Run along now, Alice." Alice: "Oh, must dash." (Alice skips away as Rumplestiltskin stares at the Jabberwocky.) Rumplestiltskin: "It can't be. (She chuckles:) You're controlling Alice?" Jabberwocky: "Yes, and the poor dear doesn't have a clue. I prefer not to appear to those I'm manipulating. If people don't know you're in their head, you can make them do anything." Rumplestiltskin: "So why appear to me?" Jabberwocky: "Out of respect of who you once were. In my absence you've managed to not only rid yourself of the dagger, but find your happy ending as well. At one time such a thing was impossible." Rumplestiltskin: "You always did underestimate me. (Bends down to pick up a branch from the ground and transforms it into a sword:) Now, if we're done catching up, I'd like you to leave." Jabberwocky: (Chuckles, circling him:) “I can taste your dread. Your fear. You fear I'm going to harm your family. But I know something you don't know. (Stops behind him:) I've already taken them. (In a rage, Rumplestiltskin turns and plunges the sword into the Jabberwocky’s stomach. She gasps and winces for a moment, before straightening up and laughing:) There's only one blade that can do me harm. (Grabbing him by the throat:) And that wasn't it. (Choking him:) Now, when you’re in a more... agreeable mood, you’ll find me in the endless gardens of Wonderland.” (Headbutting Rumplestiltskin before releasing him, the Jabberwocky turns and saunters away as the former Dark One slumps to the ground, unconscious.)

Elsewhere In The Enchanted Forest. (Drizella stands holding a golden bottle while Alice watches her.) Alice: "What's that?" Drizella: (Examining the bottle:) "This is what will help us stop the great evil spreading across the land. It was stolen by the Dark One long ago." Alice: "But Rumplestiltskin's not the Dark One anymore? I'm sure he'd have given it to us if we'd asked for it." Drizella: "I couldn't take that chance. Now come, you know the quickest way to Wonderland, lead us there.” (Confused, Alice nonetheless turns and leads the way. Following at a distance, Drizella removes the stopper from the bottle and peers inside. With Gideon in her arms, Belle yells up at the witch to be released from her latest prison. Smiling, Drizella replaces the stopper, puts the bottle inside her robes and moves quickly to catch up to Alice.) Enchanted Forest. Past. Ruth and David’s Farm. (Anna exits the house ready to continue her journey.) Anna: “I hope I'll see both of you at the wedding.” Ruth: (Hands her a bundle:) “Consider this an early present in case you get hungry on your journey.” Anna: (Peeks inside:) “I love sandwiches.” Ruth: “You've changed him, you know?” Anna: “David? Nah. He was always this way. He just didn't know it.” Ruth: “Thank you.” Anna: “I'm glad I helped. Can I ask you about the magic? Like, with Bo Peep's staff... Is that usual around here?” Ruth: “Well, there's always a bit of magic around these parts.” Anna: “Uh, my parents... They had a problem with magic. Really powerful stuff. Would there be someone who could help them with that kind of a thing?” Ruth: “I'm no expert, but there is one man... A very powerful wizard who's well-versed in all magics.” Anna: “Perhaps he can help me. What's his name?” Ruth: (Hesitates:) “I don't like to say such a name out loud. He's... A bit dangerous. But I'll write it down for you.” Anna: “Thank you. (Ruth goes inside while David arrives with his horse:) What's this?” David: “He's yours... To help you on your way.” Anna: “I thought he was something you could never give up.” David: “Uh, he's a reminder... One I don't need or want anymore. He was my father's.” (David helps Anna onto the horse.) Anna: “Look at you... All heroic now.” David: “Eh, still just a Shepherd.” Anna: “We'll see. (Ruth hands Anna a note just before she leaves. Riding a short distance away, Anna looks down at the note. Reading:) Rumple... Rumplestiltskin." Dark Castle. (Rumplestiltskin is watching Anna through his crystal ball.) Rumplestiltskin: “Mm. Hmm!” The Land Without Color. Past. (Victor Frankenstein has locked his brother away in a cell.) Victor: (Opens the cell's door and enters:) “Gerhardt? My brother? (Slowly approaching Gerhardt:) I was trying to bring you back. Are you here? Gerhardt?”

(Victor kneels beside his brother, placing a hand on Gerhardt's shoulder. Startled, Gerhardt groans and throws Victor to the ground. Gerhardt starts to strangle Victor.) Gerhardt: (Recognizing his brother:) “Vic-tor?” Victor: “Yes. Yes, it's me. (Gerhardt releases Victor. He crouches down on the floor taking his head in his hands. Victor gets up to his feet, takes out a pistol he brought with him and slowly makes his way over to Gerhardt. He points the pistol at Gerhardt's head. Victor's not able to bring himself to kill his brother. The moment Gerhardt looks up to him, Victor lowers the pistol. Realizing Victor's intention, Gerhardt grabs Victor's hands, pointing the pistol at his head again. With an effort, Victor lowers the pistol:) No. I won't do it. I will still save you. (Gerhardt shakes his head:) Father was wrong. (Gerhardt shakes his head:) I will find a way.” (Victor leaves the room.) Storybrooke. Present. Storybrooke Harbor. (Ruby and Dr. Whale sit side by side on the dock.) Dr. Whale: “I wanted my name to stand for life. But everybody just thinks it's the name of a monster. (Laughs:) I guess they're right about that. Rumplestiltskin says that magic has a price, but from where I'm sitting, seems that science does, too. Every time I try to save a life, someone else dies.” Ruby: “Hey, yeah. Look, you're Frankenstein. And I'm the werewolf. I ate my boyfriend. Long ago, when she cast the first curse, Regina thought she was punishing us by erasing who we were, but I think she underestimated how much crap we wanted to forget.” Dr. Whale: (Nods:) “Yeah.” Ruby: “But we can't let it stop us. She gave us a chance to start over and now I’ve made a life for myself. I think you should, too.” Dr. Whale: “I wasn't such a bad guy, you know. I wanted to bring life back. My father never got over my mother. If I could've just brought her back—” Ruby: (Interrupts him:) “When you left Storybrooke, the hospital was left without a doctor. The people of this town might not show it, but we need you. There's still some stuff you can fix, right here.”

Wonderland. Past. (The Doctor finishes his story.) Doctor: "So you see, I can't do as you ask. Yes, I can take your daughter's heart and replace it with another, but she won't be who you remember. No heart is strong enough." Rapunzel: (Looking down at Anastasia:) "That's where you're wrong. There is one heart that has more strength, more determination and more belief than any other. (The Doctor waits for her to continue:) The heart of a mother fighting for her child." Doctor: "You can't mean-" Rapunzel: "Yes Doctor, I do." Doctor: (Shaking his head:) "I cannot do what you're proposing - I swore an oath!" Rapunzel: "And I vowed to protect my children from any harm that would come their way. I failed both of them, utterly. Help me make things right. My daughter Drizella is out there right now trying to destroy everything we all hold dear because of me. Anastasia lies here dead because of me. This is the only way to save both of them. They need each other. Please, I beg you, won't you help me save my family?" Storybrooke. Present. Mayor's Office. (The Charmings, Hook, Zelena & Belle all stand united ready to find out where Henry is.) Snow White: (Taking the crook:) "Okay, so how does this thing work?" David: "I'm not sure, you stare into it and think of the person you're searching for. It should show you the last place they were seen." Snow White: "Alright." (Snow White and David stand looking into the crook as images appear before them.)

Enchanted Forest. Recent Past. (Henry rides through the forest on his motorcycle, coming to a stop when he reaches a cloaked figure standing by an old, gnarled tree.) Henry: (Dismounts, removes his helmet:) "I was surprised you called me. Why did we have to meet out here?" Alice: (Lowering her hood:) "Because your grandfather wanted to keep this as a surprise." Henry: "Rumplestiltskin? I thought he was off traveling the world with Belle and Gideon?" Alice: "Well he's back. And he asked me to contact you to keep the surprise a secret." Henry: "Okay, so, what's going on?" Alice: "Rumple knows you've been searching for something, for your own story." Henry: "Yeah, well that's not exactly a secret." Alice: "Ah but the thing is, Henry, this isn't a game. Trust me. When you go exploring and you find something that isn't your story, that's when bad things happen." Henry: "How do I find my story if I don't look?" Alice: "Don't you know by now your grandpa knows everyone? He's watching out for you. That's why he created this." (Alice motions towards the source of the green light which appears to lead into a cave.) Henry: "What's inside there?" Alice: "A portal to a new land. A land created especially for you." Henry: (Suspiciously:) "Sort of like the Wish Realm?" Alice: "Exactly! There you can do as you please without consequence. There you will be free to discover what kind of story you're meant to be a part of." Henry: "That sounds... amazing. But where's my grandpa?" Alice: "He's there waiting for you, ready to be your guide. All you need do is step inside. Ooh, that rhymed. (Cautiously, Henry walks along the forest path towards the mouth of the cave. Squinting, trying to see inside, he takes a step backwards only to bump into Alice:) Go on, Henry, don't be scared." (Sensing that something is not quite right, Henry reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bottle given to him by Hook. Quickly pulling the stopper, he pours the contents onto the ground before speaking into the empty bottle.) Henry: "Help. I think I’m about to be kidnapped. Send Emma, Regina, and Captain Hook.” (As soon as the message is sent, Alice pushes Henry forward into the cave.) Storybrooke. Present. Mayor's Office. (Everyone reacts to what they've just seen.) David: "I don't understand, where did Henry go?" Hook: "Wherever that bloody crocodile sent him to, that's where!" Zelena: "What the hell was Alice thinking?" Hook: "Clearly she wasn't if she was doing the Dark One's bidding." Snow White: "Shh. Hook, you know Rumplestiltskin isn't the Dark One anymore. (To David:) How long ago did Henry leave?" David: "I don't know, a month ago maybe?" Snow White: "Well that doesn't make any sense. Belle and Rumple only got back a few days ago, how could-" Belle: (Cutting in:) "Unless of course, that wasn't Rumplestiltskin, and I'm not Belle." (Laughing, Belle reveals her true form: The Jabberwocky. Before anyone can react however, a flash of light fills the room and all of its occupants disappear.) Wonderland. Past. (The Doctor closes the clasps on his bag, preparing to leave.) Doctor: "I'm sorry it had to be this way. (Turning around:) Your mother loved you very much." Anastasia: "I know. (Touching her chest:) I can feel it. I won't let her sacrifice be in vain. I will find Drizella, and bring her home." The Land Without Magic. Present. Paris. Night. (Regina is seated at a table sipping from a glass of water when she sees Emma walking towards her. Smiling to each other as their eyes meet, both women look relaxed and happy to be there.) Regina: (As Emma takes her seat:) "Emma, you're breathtaking." Emma: (Frowns slightly:) "Gina, we came in together, I literally just came back from checking our coats." Regina: "I know, but it's true." Emma: "You are such a sap." Regina: (Chuckles:) "See what you've done to me." Emma: "Oh, believe me, I'm looking and I can't take credit for how beautiful you are." Regina: (Smiles:) "Smooth." Emma: "Thank you. (The waiter arrives with a bottle of red wine:) Oh, er, actually my wife would know more about good wine than I do." Regina: (Looks to the waiter then thinks:) "You know what, we've had a long flight and it's our first night here, so could we get a couple of root beers instead?" Waiter: "Certainly, Madam. (Emma and Regina share a smile:) Are you ladies ready to order?" Emma: (Not taking her eyes off Regina:) "Yeah I think we are. (Regina raises her eyebrow:) We'll have everything off the dessert menu." (Emma raises her own eyebrow in return.) Regina: (Beaming, hands her menu to the waiter:) "Perfect." (The waiter leaves to go place their order as the two women take each other's hand and turn to look at the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the Paris night sky.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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skiesnbeyond · 3 years ago

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“Is that an Egg in the sky….? Oh no it’s just an A300” - Time and time again I go back and look at my photos and always enjoy the “EggBus”. Such an interesting aircraft both inside and out. Part Boeing, part Airbus, it truly is a work of Dr. Frankenstein” lol ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ➡️ Airline: United Parcel Service ➡️ Aircraft: Airbus A300F4-622R ➡️ Reg: N147UP ➡️ Serial #: 830 ➡️ Location: KMHT (Triangle Plaza) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 📸 Camera: Nikon D750 📸 Lens: Tamron 150-600 mm G2 . . ❗️❗️❗️ Head to my page 👉 @skiesnbeyond 👈 and follow for daily content❗️❗️❗️ . . #️⃣ #planespotting #planespottinghd #planespotterpro #avgeekphoto #avgeekspotting #avgeekspotter #aviationphotography #aviationinstagram #instagramaviation #instagramaviationphotography #dailyaviation #aviationphotographs #ig_aviation #spotmht #manchesterbostonregionalairport #airbuslovers #airbusa300600 #a300600 #airbuspilot #unitedparcelservice #whatcanbrowndoforyou #aviation4you #aviation4life #aircraftspotting #cargoaircraft #logisticslife #aviationpictures #aviationislife (at Manchester-Boston Regional Airport) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSZP4qxLrQy/?utm_medium=tumblr

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petercapaldork · 7 years ago

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A Secret Santa

Here is my MM Secret Santa gift for Apollo888 on Fanfiction.net, which I shared via Google Docs first. I wanted to make sure it was shared here as well. Happy holidays and enjoy!

Read on ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12774346/1/A-Secret-Santa

Pens scratched and pages rustled as students revised their essays, a hum of silence filling the room along with a hint of anxiety.

Mary watched in silence from her desk, on hand to help any who needed it.

It was difficult enough to encourage concentration so close to the holidays, but especially trying to maintain while students worked on essays over Jonathan Swift, Paradise Lost, and other Restoration period topics. Students were clamoring for next term and Gothic literature, like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or to delve into a bit of Austen.

But after a month-long holiday break. Mary was aching for it herself.

“Miss Grantham, how much longer until the period is over?”

The class looked up, all waiting with bated breath for her answer, and Mary glanced at the clock on her desk, about to respond with, “Half an hour,” when she heard a loud bang from down the hall. One of the girls nearest the ajar door screamed and dropped her pen.

Mary rose from her seat as the students began to murmur amongst themselves about the source of the sound, but she already knew where it had come from.

The chemistry lab.

“Please continue your revisions, I’ll be right back.”

Once out in the corridor she found Anna Bates, the French teacher and her neighbor.

“What on earth was that bang?” Anna asked, looking in the direction of the sound.

“I’ll give you a wild guess,” Mary said.

“Oh mon Dieu,” Anna said as Mary turned for the science wing. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

“The rest of us are working on revisions and studying for final exams and he’s going to blow up the school,” Mary replied, leaving Anna to mutter in French under her breath. Mary knew she could count on her friend to keep an eye on her own students while she told off the school’s very own mad scientist.

Her heels clicked their way down the granite corridor, taking her under holiday decorations that student groups had hung at the beginning of December. Holly and garland of evergreen boughs and Menorahs, paper snowflakes cut out and snowmen tapped to the walls made the entire school festive and ready for the season. Mary’s own classroom had been decorated by her students throughout the month to liven the place up, remind them of home, and give them a break before the final push for exams. And now it seemed they’d get another one.

“Now we just witnessed--Maggie what was the term for the chemical reaction I just showed you?”

“An exothermic reaction of ethanol vapor, Mr. Crawley.”

“It was combustion, more specifically,” another girl piped up.

“Yes, very good, Claudia.”

The students, or the female students at least, all giggled at the teacher’s praise before he returned to his lesson with animation.

“As opposed to endothermic reactions, in exothermic reactions, the enthalpy, or stored chemical energy which is a thermodynamic quantity, it is lower for the products than the reactants. So who can tell me what that means for this experiment?”

At this query, Mary knocked hard on the slightly open door. Twenty faces turned toward her, surprise on the face of Mr. Crawley while the students looked on in great interest.

“Ah, Miss Grantham, what brings you here?”

“May I speak with you privately?” she requested, plastering a smile on her face for the benefit of the students, most of whom were familiar to her.

“But of course.” He turned to his class. “I’ll be right back and someone better have my answer about the enthalpy for this chemical reaction. It might even have an answer that is quantifiable.”

He followed Mary out into the hall, leaving the students looking nervously at each other, but interested in what their teachers were discussing.

“What can I do for you, Mary?” He pushed a pair of safety goggles onto the top of his head. “What brings you down to our laboratories?”

Mary forced herself not roll her eyes at him and his antics of sometimes pretending to be a mad scientist. His getup complete with a white lab coat, it wasn’t much of a stretch, although it was adorable. Not that she’d let him know that. He had enough admirers from most of the teenaged girls in the school.

She’d known Matthew Crawley for over three years now and she still couldn’t figure him out. They weren’t the most chummy of colleagues, oil and water at times, but he loved to get her riled up.

“Well, Doctor Crawley, if you and your minions could refrain from blowing up anything else this afternoon, we’d be much obliged. The rest of the school is trying to study for exams, not put on a show and wonder if we need to call the fire department.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement, clearly not troubled by her tone or her Despicable Me reference.

“My class is studying for exams. Did you not hear me drilling them on exothermic and endothermic reactions? We’ve already studied the Periodic Table and gone over units about ionic bonding, balancing equations. This is the final unit to review before we have our exam tomorrow.”

“And your review involves possibly blowing up the school?”

“I have a fire extinguisher on hand, but the combustion is pretty well-contained, I shouldn’t need to use it.” He smirked, and Mary’s frown deepened.

“Seriously? We are trying to keep things quiet for the students and maintain a bit of calm before the holidays. You know how hard that is, Matthew. You’re deliberately trying to break their concentration!” She was growing so angry that she had to drop her voice to a whisper to keep herself from yelling at him. Her fists clenched.

“I am not, Mary,” he said, holding out his hands in surrender. “Our subjects are just very different animals. Yours is all talking, writing, thinking. Mine is very hands-on. The students can’t learn about exothermic and endothermic reactions without seeing them in action. It’s chemistry.”

There was a half-smile, one that she found herself on the receiving end of more and more lately. The other women teachers called Matthew “charming.” Well, Mary knew he could be when he wanted to be. Apparently this was one of those times.

“It made one of my students shriek in surprise. So keep it down or I’ll complain to the headmistress,” she said, but could feel her resolve to be angry wilting slightly.

He smiled again, blue eyes sparkling.

“We’ll try our best to keep the explosions to a minimum, Mary,” he agreed, and Mary hardly dared to believe him. “I’ll see you at Dr. Hughes’ holiday party, won’t I, if not sooner?”

For the first time since entering the corridor, Mary happened to glance over Matthew’s shoulder, startled to see the door was not quite shut on Matthew’s classroom. From the narrow window beside the door, she could see that the entire chemistry class was dead silent and hanging on every word of their conversation. No one was trying to work out any equation regarding the chemical reaction. Mary couldn’t tell if it was because half the girls were in love with Matthew, or if they were interested for some other reason.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” she said, brief. “I should get back.”

“Happy Shakespeare-ing,” Matthew said, bringing down his safety goggles once more.

Mary didn’t bother to correct him, wanting to get away from the enraptured gazes of the students.

“Don’t burn the place down,” she requested, and Matthew laughed, giving her a salute.

“Aye, aye.”

Mary simply nodded stiffly before walking away.

Anna was still outside when she returned, but had clearly been flitting between their two classrooms to check on both groups of students in her absence.

“What happened?” she asked, crossing her arms with great interest.

“Matthew is doing some kind of experiment, an exothermic reaction that is obviously intended to drive us all crazy but not to burn down the school, according to him. I fully chastised him for conducting such a loud test right before exams, but he told me it was part of his review process,” Mary complained. “What a bunch of-”

“Des ordures.”

“In English.”

“Garbage,” Anna said. “I know he likes to get a rise out of you, but does it have to be at the expense to the rest of us?”

“You think he’s conducting experiments this close to exams to toy with me?” Mary asked.

Anna shook her head. “Not exactly. Just you’re really the only one who would be upset about it, aren’t you? La querelle d'amoureux.”

“La que...what? Amour? That means ‘love’. Anna, what are you talking about? Matthew and I are hardly friends, we’re not in love!” Mary dropped her voice again, agitated by her friend’s insinuation that there was something going on with her and Matthew. “What else did you say? I don’t remember anything from high school French class.”

“That makes me feel like my job is worthwhile,” Anna said, wrinkling her nose. I said, ‘A lover’s quarrel’. You really need to brush up on your French.”

Mary scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? The whole school has been talking about you two for the past term, even the students. What do they call it these days, ‘shipping’, I think? Oh, yeah, everyone ships you with Mr. Crawley,” Anna said, matter-of-fact.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous or not, it’s true,” Anna replied, backing into her classroom and leaving Mary dumbfounded in the hall.

The following day Mary returned from a hasty lunch in the teacher’s lounge to prepare for an afternoon of grading while her last group of students finished up their essay revisions. She was as ready for the holiday break as the students were and all that stood in the way was another day of final grading and tomorrow evening’s holiday party at the home of Dr. Hughes and her husband, Mr. Carson.

Mary couldn’t wait.

She turned on the light, absentmindedly walking over to her desk and about to unlock the drawer where she kept finished essays to grade when she noticed something out of order on her neatly organized desk. Two packages wrapped in brown paper and tied together with red ribbon had been placed in front of her chair, an envelope tucked beneath one of the bands of ribbon.

Frowning, Mary picked up the envelope and pulled out a nondescript holiday card. Inside, only two words had been written, “From Santa.” She didn’t recognize the handwriting immediately, but thought perhaps the gift was from Anna and her husband had written the card, or even a student had dropped it off on her desk during lunch.

The contents of the packages would prove her wrong.

After sliding the ribbon off from around the packages, both of which were clearly books, Mary removed the brown paper from the top one to find a book entitled, Coping with Difficult People: The Proven-Effective Battle Plan That Has Helped Millions Deal with the Troublemakers in Their Lives at Home and at Work. Reminded of the incident with Matthew yesterday, Mary again thought of Anna and laughed at the title of the older, which was evident from the worn, multi-color cover. She set it aside, picking up the next book to unwrap it.

Pulling the brown paper off and looking at the marbled hardback cover, Mary nearly dropped the edition she held. She felt as though she should be wearing gloves rather than hold it with her bare hands, and with bated breath Mary glanced at the spine of the book to read the words Mansfield Park. She exhaled slowly, gingerly opening the cover to look at the frontispiece: Mansfield Park by Jane Austen; Persuasion by the Same.

The publication date was 1833 by Richard Bentley, which Mary knew to be the second publication of Persuasion, her favorite Austen novel, and the first single-volume edition.

But who else knew she was such a nerd about it?

After gingerly wrapping the nearly 200-year-old book and tucking it away in her desk, Mary made a beeline for Anna’s classroom. She found Anna grading French exams at her desk.

“What’s the big idea?” she asked, not bothering to preface her visit.

“What are you talking about?” Anna looked up from her tests, confusion on her face.

“The books you left on my desk. That 1833 edition of Mansfield Park and Persuasion had to cost you upwards of £1,000 or more.” Mary’s tone was scolding and also baffled that her friend would purchase such an expensive gift for her. “What were you thinking?”

“Someone bought you a book that cost £1,000?”

“You can give it up already, I know it was you, Santa,” Mary said. “How many people here even know Persuasion is my favorite Austen novel? And the other book with it, Coping with Difficult People? Who would buy me such a book?”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Not me, I swear. And honestly, after the row you had with Matthew yesterday, that one sounds like a book he’d buy you as a joke.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t explain the second edition. The book that’s practically a paycheck. Why would he get me something like that?”

“Well, il est amoureux de toi,” Anna murmured, not meeting Mary’s gaze.

“You know I hardly understood a word you said except for ‘amour,’ but he is not in love with me,” Mary said, indignant.

“That’s exactly what I said, and we’ve all just been waiting to see how long it takes for the two of you to do something about it. It’s been three years and, God, it’s good so see Matthew finally doing something,” Anna said. “Plus, we’ve been taking bets in the teacher’s lounge and mine was about to expire.”

Mary’s jaw fell open. “I can’t believe you, my friend, have been making bets about my love life!”

“Oh, come on, it was harmless, and the whole school knows about you two. If you thought the students were bad, well, the teachers are even worse.”

“Clearly,” Mary said, eyes narrow. “But I really don’t think it was Matthew.”

Anna shrugged. “Who else could it be?”

“P-perhaps, Dr. Hughes-?” she began, but Mary was floundering. “Or a student.”

“What student is going to buy you a book that costs that much? Want me to ask Matthew tomorrow?”

Mary shuddered at the thought. “No, don’t bring it up,” she said. “I’m certain it wasn’t him. It has to be someone else. We don’t even get along.”

But the more she denied that it could be Matthew, the more she felt that she was wrong, and not just based on the facts in front of her.

His behavior over the last year had been so much different than it was before. In the past, they didn’t see each other much. Sure, they ran into each other in the teacher’s lounge or the halls on occasion, but ever since term began in September she saw Matthew practically every day, even on weekends as she shopped in town, which had rarely happened before. In these instances he’d gone out of his way to interact with her, making small-talk about her family, what she was doing in her off-hours, and generally being pleasant. So, in hindsight, she was wrong; they didn’t always get along, but it was clear that he often tried to be friendly when he saw her, especially outside of work.

And now she wondered, how did he know where and when she shopped, what she liked to read? Was he stalking her?

“He makes you laugh,” Anna said, interrupting Mary’s thoughts about her whereabouts last weekend when she ran into Matthew outside a shop while looking for gifts for her two sisters and their husbands. “Although sometimes you force yourself not to.”

Out in the corridor she could hear the sounds of students filing back from lunch for their final rounds of exams before the holidays.

“It wasn’t him,” Mary repeated, more and more unconvincing by the minute.

“Mmhmm,” Anna demurred, eyes returning to her exams as students began to file into the room.

Unfocused, Mary returned to her own classroom, the Austen edition weighing heavily on her mind as it sat locked at the bottom of her desk drawer.

The holiday party at the home of Charles Carson and Dr. Elsie Hughes provided a ceremonial bookend to the school term every year for the staff. Being welcomed into the home of the headmistress and her husband, while intimidating at first, was usually a highlight of Mary’s holiday season before she went home to a family visit that included happy sisters and their husbands and lots of nieces and nephews, as well as endless commentary on her own singleness. Plus, it gave the staff a chance to imbibe on the more traditional holiday spirits and richer treats of the season after completing final marks. But for Mary, this year she was keen to avoid Matthew. Or confront him. She hadn’t decided what she wanted.

As she stood in a corner of the sitting room, nursing some mulled wine that Mr. Carson had poured for her, she kept glancing to the door in expectation of Matthew’s arrival. She hadn’t seen him since receiving the gifts, but in the day that followed, she had resolved to bring it up when she saw him. And two glasses of wine in less than an hour had almost strengthened her resolve enough for her to see it through.

“How is he not here yet?” Mary finally spoke, interrupting Anna’s conversation with her husband John about some incident regarding students that Mary had not been paying mind to.

“Matthew, you mean? Perhaps he is, but you’ve trapped yourself as far away from him as possible. Good on you,” Anna said, taking a sip of her own drink more daintily than Mary’s final gulp of her mulled wine. “How many of those have you had?”

“Not nearly enough,” Mary said. “I’m going for a refill, does anyone need more to drink?”

“No, but some food would be good,” Anna ventured. “I saw they had those little puds, didn’t you see, John, the tartlets?”

“Maybe later,” Mary said, leaving the pair in search of more to drink.

She slipped through the crowd of her colleagues, issuing perfunctory greetings to those she hadn’t seen yet, but really making haste toward the dining room where the refreshments were being kept. She switched out her mulled wine for a glass of champagne, taking a long drink as others filtered in to refill their own glasses or plates. As she drank, she watched as Matthew entered the room, deep in conversation with Mr. Carson. Both men were in search of more food, already holding plates in their hands.

She wondered when Matthew had arrived, although it was obvious he hadn’t bothered to seek her out. See, Anna? It wasn’t from him.

“Now, that’s where I think you’re wrong, Matthew. Sure Manchester United has some quality football players, but when it comes to the Premier League, it has to be-”

No one heard Mr. Carson’s response because Mary found herself interrupting the two men’s conversation.

“Matthew, might I speak with you?”

Neither had noticed Mary in the room, as there were others about as well, but both were surprised at her interruption.

Looking flummoxed, all Matthew said to Mary was, “Sure.” To Mr. Carson he begged to be excused, setting his plate aside before following Mary from the room. Mary held onto her champagne glass.

She led him out to the sunroom overlooking the back garden, knowing the chance of being interrupted in there would be slim since it was chilly and almost like being outside. The wood-burning stove that sat in one corner of the room was cold, as the occupants of the house had not expected anyone to bother going out back, although they had decorated the room for Christmas. Lights had been strung across the ceiling along with garland and other tinsel, bringing the festive feeling of the house out into the back garden.

“What’s up?” Matthew asked. His original shock at seeing Mary in the dining room had quickly been replaced by ease.

But Mary was on edge. She hesitated briefly before saying what first came to mind.

It was like word-vomit, but more rehearsed.

“Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed.”

Even reciting the first paragraph from her favorite novel did little to relax her as it usually could. During her speech, Matthew’s eyebrows had risen slowly out of confusion, but now he frowned at her monologue.

“What’s this? Are you going all English-major on me for some reason that I don’t understand?” he asked.

She sighed, aggravated, but no closer to figuring out where the blasted books had come from.

“Never mind. Someone left two books on my desk yesterday. Anna thought it might be you, but she was clearly incorrect. I told her it had to be someone else,” Mary explained.

She turned to go, champagne glass still in-hand, when Matthew spoke.

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.”

Mary halted abruptly, shoulders tense. She set her glass on a nearby shelf holding some books on bird watching and a pair of binoculars before facing Matthew again.

“What?” Her voice was a whisper, a hush of disbelief.

A half-smile played across his lips, eyes dancing.

“For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes?”

Mary’s heart throbbed madly in her chest, her pulse making it difficult to hear her own thoughts, if she even had any in her head anymore.

“What...what are you saying?” She shook her head. “You did buy those books for me?”

He nodded.

In spite of all the warnings from Anna, Mary was shocked. “Matthew, that book must have cost you over a thousand pounds.”

“It’s not important,” he said, gentle.

“But w-why would you do such a thing?”

Looking nervous for the first time, he moved a few steps toward her, reaching out to take her hand.

“Mary.”

He only spoke her name, but she felt a jolt of electricity move through her at his voice, his touch, willing her to step toward him.

She was closer to him than ever before, his blue eyes warming her like the sun on a summer day as she gazed at him. The current that she had felt when he spoke her name now hummed through her, and she wondered if he felt it too, that energy that had always lay beneath the surface now coming to life under the twinkling lights.

With her free hand she reached up and, after a moment’s hesitation, brushed her fingers through his hair. This final touch was all the encouragement Matthew needed to erase the remaining space between them.

He kissed her, the territory unfamiliar and yet she was completely at ease. Not that the kiss wasn’t exciting; no, her heart pounded wildly as Matthew backed her into a wall, she tugged on his hair and even parted his lips with her tongue. It wasn’t that.

She felt no embarrassment at snogging Matthew, even in the sunroom of Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson. If anyone were to discover them, she was sure she would shrug it off and, hell, even kiss him again. It felt right, as though they should have been doing this all along.

He pulled back from her, smiling once more and Mary found herself genuinely smiling for the first time that night.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, hands on Mary’s waist. “God, I’ve had such a schoolboy crush on you.”

“You hid it well,” Mary said, brushing her thumb against his cheek. “Especially the constant teasing and jokes about chemistry. And lately showing up at my regular shops in town? I was beginning to think I had a stalker on my hands. But never would I have guessed such a grand gesture was awaiting me. How did you even know Persuasion was my favorite Jane Austen novel? Did Anna tell you?”

“I wasn’t I going to ask her that,” he said, leaning into her touch. “No, last spring I overheard some of my students mention it so I started calling rare bookstores for early editions. It is amazingly difficult to find a first printing, so I had to settle for the second.”

“Last spring? You’ve been planning this for almost a year?” Mary was astonished he would put so much effort into a gift for her, but then she remembered Anna’s words from a few days ago, well, the English translation: he’s in love with you.

She felt warmth and panic at the same time.

“I may have gone a bit overboard,” he admitted, oblivious to Mary’s conflicting emotions. “I just wanted you to have something you’d enjoy.”

“Were you planning on revealing your secret identity to me, Santa?” Mary asked, her hand gliding down his neck until she laid it on his shoulder. She played with his shirt collar, fingers brushing against the knot of his tie to distract herself from any concerns she had regarding Matthew’s precise feelings for her. She felt like she’d already come to terms with her own, which were stronger than she realized.

“In good time,” he said, refusing to answer, but still grinning. “I didn’t expect you to drunkenly confront me before I got the chance.”

“I’m not drunk,” Mary said. “I just wanted a straight answer, which you hardly gave me.”

“Quoting from your favorite book isn’t direct enough for you? Next time do I need to ride in on a white horse?” he teased, kissing the end of her nose. “But wait, wait, wait. You know how I feel. What about you? Why’d you let me kiss you? As a courtesy?”

“No,” she said, feeling self-conscious now that he was asking Mary to share her thoughts aloud. She kept her eyes on his tie.

“As a ‘thank you’? What?” She could hear the growing frustration in his voice, as though he didn’t believe that it wasn’t some drunken kiss. That she regretted it.

She met his gaze again, for she did not regret it, only wanted to do it again. She was surprised he hadn’t pulled away from her, that his hands still remained on her waist, warm and reassuring.

“For someone who spends most of her time studying the works of great authors who write of beauty and glory and...love, well, I am not adept at sharing my own feelings at the ready.”

Matthew’s eyes softened. “Is it too much for me to ask you to try?”

She cleared her throat, resolving not to look away until she was done.

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Mary’s fingers wrapped around Matthew’s tie, pulling his face closer to hers.

“Contrary to popular knowledge, I didn’t memorize the whole of Persuasion to impress you. Just those few lines,” he joked.

“That line is actually from Pride and Prejudice,” Mary said, smiling in response.

“Haven’t read it and I didn’t see the movie,” Matthew said.

He rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment, and Mary half-wondered why she had fought Anna’s assertions the previous day about Matthew’s feelings for her, and her own feelings for him. But instead of contemplating them further, she kissed him again, all but forgetting her hesitation as their lips met.

“So, I should warn you about something before we go back in there,” Mary said, Matthew taking her hand after their prolonged snogging session.

“And what’s that? Have you been tearing the mickey out of me behind my back?” He joked. Other than the incident a few days ago, she couldn’t remember anything that would have caused her to speak of him to someone else at all, let alone poorly.

“Nothing like that,” Mary said, halting them on the threshold of the sunroom before re-entering the kitchen. “It seems the other staff had this bet going about when the two of us would get...romantically involved. Anna told me about it the other day.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t look overly nonplussed by the realization, but actually seemed to find it rather funny. “Do you think it’s too late for me to get in on some of that action?”

“Matthew!” Mary scolded him. “Since you’re one of the reasons they thought there was anything going on at all, there would be no way they’d let you place a bet.”

“I mean, the odds were actually only fifty-fifty that I’d win anything,” he observed. “And I could really use some extra quid. My girlfriend has expensive taste in books.”

Mary felt herself blush for the first time that night, but didn’t question his use of the word ‘girlfriend’.

“Well, no one told you to buy it,” she said, teasing him easily. She retrieved her champagne glass, not wanting to leave it for their boss to find later.

“You’ve known me for over three years now, Mary. You should realize by now that I am a man of big gestures.”

“Is that why your chemistry lab is constantly on the verge of blowing up the school?” she questioned, leading him back inside.

“It’s called hands-on learning, love,” he retorted as they walked entered the kitchen to find Dr. Hughes preparing to take more trays of hors d'oeuvres into the dining room.

“Mary, Matthew, what on earth were you doing out there? It’s bloody freezing-” She began to scold them in her Scottish brogue, but halted when she saw they were holding hands. “Oh, damn, I can’t believe I lost the bet!”

“You too?” Mary asked, setting the champagne glass aside. She was astounded even the headmistress of the school was involved in the petty gambling ring like the rest of the staff.

“Oh, everyone wanted a piece of the action, it was such a sure thing,” Dr. Hughes said. “But the key was timing. I thought it would take the two of you at least until next spring to soften up. Some of us hadn’t factored in the enchantment of the holidays.”

“Or expensive gifts,” Matthew muttered.

“Gifts? Do tell.” Dr. Hughes had all but forgotten the trays of brie and decorated biscuits that were in her hands.

“Matthew gave me a Bentley edition of Mansfield Park and Persuasion. 1833,” Mary explained, proud. Matthew shifted, uncomfortable for the first time that night, but Mary cast a smile at him and he rebounded with a small grin.

“My, oh my, how romantic,” Dr. Hughes replied, stunned. “And everyone knows what an Austen fan you are, Mary. Didn’t you take your class to Winchester last spring just so you could show them her final home and resting place in Winchester Cathedral?”

“I did,” Mary said. Visiting the places where her favorite authors once lived, wrote, and even died was, at times, morbid, usually invigorated Mary.

“Well, I suppose I should get ready to empty out my pocketbook. Charles will not be pleased.”

“How much had the pool gotten up to?” Matthew asked with interest.

“A couple hundred quid,” Dr. Hughes admitted. “Rather silly, but nearly all of it will go to Anna Bates.”

Mary snorted. “That seems like quite a conflict of interest. Shouldn’t there be some sort of regulations on whether Anna should be allowed to participate?”

“Maybe we can get her to donate it to the school trip fund,” she replied. “Or your wedding, hmm?”

With this, Dr. Hughes then exited with the trays, unaware of the discomfort she had left between Matthew and Mary.

“From secret Santa to wedding planning, huh?” Matthew finally spoke, breaking the silence that threatened to last for endless minutes. “Well, I hope Anna does contribute her gambling winnings, I haven’t the funds to throw a wedding.”

“Please don’t listen to them,” Mary requested, meeting his eyes once again. “They’re all much too invested in our relationship.” She could tell the blush that had happened upon Matthew calling her his ‘girlfriend’ was creeping back into her cheeks, and wondered if she could blame it on the heat of the room if he asked.

“You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

Mary could tell he was unsure, and she again wanted him to know that she did not regret a moment that had passed since they’d entered the sunroom.

“By you? Of course not,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Sure, I wish our colleagues were less involved in our relationship, but I’m not embarrassed.”

And to give him a final reminder, aware that they could be seen through the doorway to the dining room, Mary kissed her secret Santa.

#mm secret santa 2017 #for Apollo888 #downton fanfic #mary x matthew #downton abbey #my writing

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dippydots · 3 years ago

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Edmund sees his therapist :)

#mystic mysfits #mm edmund #mm dr frankenstein #:)))))))))#go wild lads

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thewingedwolf · 7 years ago

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Red snowing s2 where they're having a small sweet moment and then Ruby starts cackling and is like "I can't believe you fucked dr. frankenstein" and MM is just like "NOT YOU TOO, WE WERE /CURSED/" and then David is like "remember that time at my housewarming party when ruby flirted with me, not knowing who I was which means my wife was unknowingly flirting with me while my other wife was jealous and my fake wife was in the other room completely oblivious" and MM is just like "whatever I confided in our daughter about my one night stand, I win the weirdness competition every time"

#rani's liveblogging tag #rani liveblogs ouat #red snowing #i just really like rhe idea of ruby flirting with david or mm in front of the kther and theyre jealous and its like #no see thats ur wife its fine

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writesandramblings · 7 years ago

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The Captain’s Secret - p.66

“Past and Present Tense”

A/N: This chapter cover the events of episode 7, "Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad." Also, revised a paragraph in chapter 61 – Ctrl-F "mutilated" for the new edition. I had already written that bit months ago, but it accidentally got punted into the prewritten section of this chapter and I just found it again. Just a little echo of a ghost from the past... (You may have already read the revised paragraph depending.)

Also, the fortune that is drawn in this chapter was 100% a random, "pick one and use it" draw that just happened to be unbelievably and unforgivably apropos to the theme. I was so shocked I forgot the sentence I was in the middle of writing when I opened it. Apparently, fate wants me to write this fanfic just as much as it wants Lorca to stay in command of his ship.

Finally, this is a long chapter. I considered splitting it, but there didn't seem a point where it made sense to. I give you an (overly) extended look into the antics of non-Michael Burnham characters during the episode.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << Part 65 - The Stars, Broken Part 67 - Einstein on the Beach >>

O'Malley came to the bridge, which was unusual, and Lorca spoke to him in the ready room again. The colonel was as high-strung and judgmental as ever. He crossed his arms as he stood across from Lorca and declined a fortune cookie.

"Am I to understand Admiral Cornwell's been taken by Klingons and we're not going to rescue her?"

"Those are not our orders," said Lorca smoothly.

"So, Cornwell ordered us to rescue you, and we did, and then our orders were not to rescue Sarek, but we did that anyway, and now our orders are not to rescue Cornwell and we're suddenly doing what Starfleet Command wants?"

Lorca crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. This was much the same as Saru's objection, but Saru was not so fearless as to pose these objections in the form of an argument to Lorca directly. "We're here to win a war, not rescue every lost soul."

"Well you damn well could've fooled me as that's largely what we've been doing these past six months. You personally, might I add."

"I thought you didn't like Cornwell," pointed out Lorca.

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I want her tortured by Klingons."

"I was tortured by Klingons. It wasn't so bad."

O'Malley's mouth fell open and his arms uncrossed. "Gabriel!" For a moment, O'Malley sounded like Lorca's mother might have, had she been prone to chastising Lorca in the tone of a sixty-year-old British woman.

"Look," said Lorca, dropping the levity. "This is what Cornwell would have wanted. Following the rules and waiting for orders. She's spent most of the past six months telling me to do just that."

"You've picked an awfully convenient time to start doing what Cornwell wants."

Lorca stared. "Are we going to have a problem here, colonel?"

O'Malley exhaled and shook his head softly. "I'm just very disappointed in you, is all." He stood in silent consideration for a moment. "You know, I've mostly agreed with everything you've done up till now. Usually you do to the right thing, just in the wrong way, and for the first time I find you doing the wrong thing in the right way and I honestly don't know what to make of it. I don't like what it says about you as a person that you'd let one of your oldest friends suffer like this simply for the purposes of keeping your ship."

"She was my friend," said Lorca. "Past tense. And out of respect for that, we are following Starfleet's orders." Each of the last few words was said with pointed emphasis indicating Lorca had no interest in being further argued with on this subject.

"If you're going to be like this, then perhaps you'd better count me in the past tense as well."

They stared at each other, neither backing down. Then something occurred to Lorca and he scowled in disgust and looked away.

O'Malley squinted at him. "What's that look for?"

"What look?"

"That look on your face right now."

"I don't know, Mac, why don't you tell me what it looks like."

"If I knew that would I be asking?" They were going in circles.

Lorca broke the pattern. He clenched his jaw in anger directed mostly at himself. "I suppose now you're gonna take up Cornwell's cause." Worse, he had given O'Malley enough ammunition to do just that. His intent in the telling had been to make O'Malley see his side, take his side, and it had worked, but now Lorca was uncertain where O'Malley's loyalties lay: with his principles, or with Lorca himself.

O'Malley looked insulted. "What? I'm disappointed in you, I'm not going to betray you. I know how hard it was for you to tell me any of what you did. I'm certainly not going to use it against you. It'd destroy my reputation, for starters." O'Malley sighed. "Just give me some time, will you? I need to process this."

O'Malley left the ready room. Lorca took a fortune cookie and crushed it in his hand, eating the pieces and dropping the paper unread into the trash. He quietly put a hold on any and all outbound communications from O'Malley and Allan, just in case. In doing so, Lorca noticed Allan had not sent or received a single transmission in all his time on Discovery. Unusual.

As Culber was not permitted into Lab 26, he had to wait outside with Allan for Mischkelovitz to emerge. When she did, she looked at Culber with obvious suspicion as to what he was doing on her doorstep.

Culber managed to be as friendly, cheerful, and charming as anyone could be, especially given the adversarial stance Mischkelovitz had taken. "Dr. Mischkelovitz, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

All that charm and she still looked at him like he had three heads and two of them were shooting fire at her. "Pel'tra kas-kotiin kelmatro sai-on," she said darkly.

Culber had no idea how to respond to that.

Standing behind her, Allan apparently did. "Melly," he said, "je kranna kos'bri-kaa. Se patro kii'kay'an?"

Mischkelovitz turned to him. "Je mohs ke'barato, se patriik maroten."

Allan replied, "Kesse na iil me trohs baraal. Pelta!" Then he smiled at Mischkelovitz.

With a scowl, Mischkelovitz said, "Fine, Lan! But only because you asked." She turned back to Culber. "What do you want?"

Her eyes lit up when she saw the design of the implant. "Ah!" she went. "This is terrible!"

They were standing in sickbay at Culber's workstation. As Stamets was now the computational interface of the spore drive, Culber was hoping to ease the difficulty of his husband's connection to the drive with an implant so that the dangerous, painful system they had recovered from the Glenn could be rendered obsolete, but the technology was slightly beyond Culber's expertise. "I was hoping you could help me refine it," said Culber. "Tweak the design a little?"

When Mischkelovitz looked at Culber this time, her eyes were alight with enthusiasm and there was absolutely no trace of anything negative in her expression or demeanor. "Absolutely! Let's do it." For all that she was standoffish and surly around people she had not accepted into her inner circle, once presented with something she liked, she was entirely won over, like a reluctant child bribed with a new toy.

Culber's initial design for the implant was entirely too big to be practical. They began by refining it in virtual form to reduce its size and complexity. There were several factors to consider. First, the needs of the spore drive itself, which Mischkelovitz seemed unusually familiar with. Second, the features Culber wanted the implant to have, for safety and in the event of a medical emergency. Third, the limits of the technology they could produce aboard Discovery on such short notice.

Mischkelovitz was quite happy and friendly when she had a task to focus on. She also seemed only halfway aware of Culber's presence, even though he was standing right next to her and working on the same project. She chattered away to herself, saying things like, "We have to beroute the riomatter relay through the transventral section in order to ensure uninterrupted frow legulation..."

"Sorry, what?" asked Culber, but Mischkelovitz seemed not to hear him and continued her rambling obliviously. Apparently her use of "we" did not refer to Culber.

"If we switch the configuration of the nanotubes, then we can responsively adjust the row flate to compensate for the constriction mechanically rather than computationally..."

At other times, she seemed overly aware of Culber.

"You're married to him, right?" she suddenly asked. Even though she did not specify Stamets, it was obvious who the implant was for and there was no one else she might be referring to.

"That's right," said Culber.

"Mm," went Mischkelovitz and lapsed into silence, her gaze darkening.

Culber studied her carefully. She was staring intently at a fixed point in space. She had to be thinking about her own deceased husband, which was probably not the healthiest or most productive thing for her to be thinking about in the moment. He decided to try to switch her mind to something that had been bothering him since their previous encounter, risky as it was. "I've noticed you and Captain Lorca seem to get along."

"He likes monsters," supplied Mischkelovitz.

Culber blinked. "You're not a monster."

"Tch," she went. "Of course I am. That's the moral of the story, isn't it? The real monster was Victor von Frankenstein?"

Culber considered Mischkelovitz. That was a truly sad way for her to describe herself, even if she had done things that might warrant usage of the word. "I can't begin to understand what you went through," he said sympathetically, "so I won't judge you for it." He had judged her already, but he was willing to put it aside for the sake of being kind. "I just want to make sure you don't get hurt. Captain Lorca is a... strong personality."

"I like that about him. Very much so."

"It's easy to get swept away by someone like that."

"Don't worry about me. I only go where I'm wanted. If the captain wants me, so be it."

Culber paused. The word choice seemed a little off. "You haven't... with the captain?" It would explain her comfort level with being manhandled by Lorca, her rush to defend him, and even the captain's kindness.

"What?"

"Forget I asked," said Culber, quickly shaking his head. "It's no business of mine who anyone sleeps with, so long as they do it safely." That might apply to Lorca more than most. The captain had something of a reputation in that regard.

"Do you mean have sex?" said Mischkelovitz, looking confused. "I would never compromise my work by wasting my time like that! Ever!"

She seemed genuinely repulsed by the idea. Culber was taken aback. "That isn't..."

Mischkelovitz suddenly brightened. "We can halve the size of the mower podules if we use the outflow return for the subsystems!" She began to make modifications in a flurry of excitement. Suddenly the implant design seemed neither inelegant nor oppressively bulky. It was perfect.

"Thank you," Culber told her. "I really appreciate your help with this."

"That was fun!" she exclaimed, then turned and ran out of sickbay.

It took a few minutes for the computer to finish the fabrication, but when it was done, Culber summoned Stamets to sickbay and presented him with the completed device. "What do you think?"

"What is it?" asked Stamets.

"This is what every astromycologist is going to wish they were wearing at your next conference," grinned Culber, and explained the implant's functions and features. Stamets was entirely impressed, both by the design and that Culber had done this for him.

The surgery was quick and easy. Mischkelovitz's design modifications took into account Stamets' anatomy perfectly, so even though it looked like a giant, painful thing inserted into Stamets' arm, it actually folded around the various blood vessels, muscles, and tendons perfectly. Stamets flexed his hand and smiled at it.

"You're the best," said Stamets.

Culber smiled. "I had a little help." And maybe, just maybe, he had gotten himself into Mischkelovitz's good graces in the process. Though, if the captain wasn't sleeping with Mischkelovitz, what exactly was he using her for?

The ship fell into a sort of quiet routine the next few days. Everything was going smoothly, if uneventfully, because to everyone's collective surprise, Lorca was presently adhering to the letter of Starfleet Command's desires. Routine spore drive jump tests at scheduled times. No presence at the front. Trying to find a way to duplicate spore drive control without violating augmentation laws.

It began to feel like O'Malley had been given more than enough time to process. Lorca called him to his ready room.

O'Malley refused. "Wanna try that again, colonel?" said Lorca, clearly implying their personal disagreement did not give O'Malley the right to deny a request from Discovery's captain.

"I literally can't. I gave Allan and Larsson leave to go to some disco party. There's no one else on the door."

Lorca started chuckling. Of course O'Malley would do something that pathetic. The party had been a concession to the fact they were presently doing nothing important. May as well let the crew kick back and relax a bit.

"So happy I can amuse," said O'Malley miserably. "Larsson fancies himself some sort of a dancer, and Allan... don't ask me, he's supposed to be asleep right now and apparently he'd rather do that, so I also get to cover part of his shift alone."

"You do not understand how to command," said Lorca, shaking his head.

"Well now, hang on a minute, I—"

The bridge cut in. "Captain, we are detecting an unidentified signal," said Saru.

"Yellow alert. This conversation isn't over, colonel."

"It hasn't even started," managed O'Malley before the ready room door opened and the comm channel cut off.

It turned out to be a gormagander—a space whale. Burnham was apparently some expert in the species, rattling off details of their biology and attributing their decreasing numbers in the galaxy not as a result of hunting but because they focused on feeding so single-mindedly they failed to find the time to mate. "That's as depressing a trait as I've ever heard," quipped Lorca before calling to the helmsman to plot a new course.

"Captain!" interrupted Burnham. "The gormagander is on the endangered species list. Protocol requires us to transfer it to a xenologic facility."

Great. Now not only were they not going to be participating in any battles, they were going to have to play chaperone to a space whale. Burnham seemed enthused for the task, at least. "Then have at it," Lorca told her, and she hurried off to the shuttle bay to oversee the creature's transport onto the ship.

Not five minutes later, it was aboard, and a frantic comm came from the shuttle bay:

"Intruder alert, shots fired," said Burnham breathlessly. "Need immediate assistance."

Tyler was at the security station. He put the security feeds on the main viewscreen. "Intruder's on deck six, sir!"

"I want him locked down!" ordered Lorca, watching as the helmeted assailant strode through Discovery's halls.

"We have him trapped, sir!" reported Tyler after a moment.

Lorca rose from the captain's chair and strode towards the viewscreen. "Whoever you are, drop your weapons. This ends now."

The helmet came off with a round of hearty laughter, revealing a familiar bearded, grinning face. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

"Mudd," said Lorca, almost spitting the name.

"Did you really think that you could leave me to rot in a Klingon prison and not suffer any repercussions!" said Mudd, voice rising as he spoke, hand shaking in anger towards the security monitor. "As soon as I find what's so special about your ship, I'm gonna sell it to the Klingons. Do you hear me, captain?"

"I don't see this ending with you taking my ship," said Lorca, entirely unimpressed.

"Not this time, but I have all the data I need for the next, so, I will see you later. Or, rather, earlier."

Mudd triggered a device in his hand. The corridor flashed with light and Lorca had to close his eyes a moment. When he opened them, the viewscreen was static. "Mr. Saru!"

"Sensors read an amicium and yurium compound explosion," said Saru.

"Hull breach on deck six," said Ash. "Five, four, now three—we can't contain it, captain!"

Lorca felt his heart drop as Discovery was torn apart around him. The last thing he saw was bright yellow-white flames coming towards him.

Reset.

It was a space whale. Burnham was pleased for it, Lorca was completely annoyed at the prospect of playing chaperone, and he sent Burnham off to handle the situation.

From the belly of the beast itself, Harry Mudd waited and looked over the files from Discovery he had stolen before the reset. He had stripped out all the important stuff—access codes, schematics, crew assignments and the project directory—and he had a lot of data to go through. Luckily, he also had all the time in the world. As the transporter light shimmered around him, he decided to start this little adventure off with a bold gesture. "Computer," he said as the shimmer faded and the gormagander appeared in the shuttle bay with Mudd still inside it, giving Mudd access to the ship's command overrides from his hiding place. "Site to site transport. One to the captain's ready room."

The shimmer of the transporter began again, this time plucking Mudd from the gormagander's digestive tract with the precision of the finest surgeon and depositing him in the ready room.

The lights were dim. A concession to Lorca's damaged eyesight, of course. Mudd snorted at the conceited weakness of the self-imposed impairment. He also frowned at the sight of the standing desk. He had been hoping for a chance to put his feet up while he reviewed Discovery's files, but instead the room was as aggravating as the captain himself.

There was a wooden bowl on the desk filled with fortune cookies. Mudd took one. It read, There is a prospect of a thrilling time ahead of you. Mudd's face lit up. "Well now, isn't that just what the captain ordered."

Perfectly aware Lorca was just on the other side of the door attending to matters on the bridge, Mudd decided to stay for a while and munch on cookies as he went over Discovery's project list and schematics. He noted with great interest a laboratory completely shielded from transport. That had to contain a pretty good secret. He also took a glance over the many luminaries that called Discovery their home. Quite an assemblage of minds Lorca had gotten himself. Some genuine surprises in there, too. Emellia Mischkelovitz, for example. Dr. Frankenstein in the flesh. Mudd whistled in appreciation. If nothing else, he had to respect the captain's cojones. Almost as big as his own.

Four meters away, Lorca finished relaying the details of Discovery's newest "assignment" to Starfleet Command and decided to pick up the conversation with O'Malley. "Mr. Saru," he said as he rose from the captain's chair and headed to the ready room, the intonation of Saru's name sufficient to convey the transfer of command over to the first officer.

The ready room doors opened and Lorca found himself staring at Harry Mudd standing next to a bowl's worth of fortunes and cookie crumbs scattered across the desk.

"Why, hello, captain!" said Mudd blithely, raising his disruptor.

"Mudd," scowled Lorca. "What the hell are you doing on my ship!"

"Your ready room is awful! No chairs? Really?" Mudd shot Lorca. He watched with immense satisfaction as the captain disintegrated into a flurry of dust, leaving a singed smell on the air. Tyler appeared in the doorway, phaser drawn, but too late.

Reset.

This time, Mudd beamed from the gormagander's stomach to the corridor outside Lab 26. A pale, freckled man was guarding the door and raised his rifle in Mudd's direction as the transporter finished with the beam-in. "Identify yourself!"

"Harcourt Fenton Mudd," said Mudd. "I've been sent to review this experiment." He said it with the sort of glib confidence that usually made people think twice and accept a statement as potentially truthful.

"Absolutely not," said the freckled man. "Hands up. Computer, alert the bridge. We have an intruder."

Once again, Mudd found himself face to face with Lorca. "Mudd! What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"A better question is, what the hell are you doing on your ship?" asked Mudd gleefully. "Computer, transport Captain Lorca to preset coordinates."

He beamed Lorca into space. The door guard clocked him on the back of the head with his rifle, knocking Mudd out, but it mattered not.

Reset.

Mudd beamed from the gormagander's stomach to the next section of corridor over from Lab 26 and fired his disruptor the moment the freckled man was in view, vaporizing him.

The door did not open. "Computer," said Mudd, "command override."

"This door can only be overridden by Colonel O'Malley's command module," the computer intoned flatly. This made no sense. Mudd had gotten himself the highest command authority, above even the captain, but the captain could not open this door?

"Who the hell is Colonel O'Malley?" asked Mudd aloud, checking the crew files. A freckled face stared back at him. "Well, damn it," said Mudd. He spent a few minutes on a halfhearted attempt to blast open the door to no avail.

"Hey! What are you doing!?" came a deep, booming voice. A pair of officers coming down the hallway had discovered him. They were a mismatched set, one a giant hulking blonde and the other a thinner, dark-haired man. They both had leis around their necks and were holding drinks. Neither was armed.

"What does it look like?" asked Mudd, firing at them. Then he made his way to the bridge. May as well have a little fun if no other progress was going to be made this time around.

"Mudd," scowled Lorca. "What are you doing on my ship!"

"Whatever I want!" exclaimed Mudd gleefully, shooting Lorca on a non-vaporizing kill setting and watching the captain stagger to the floor and collapse, dead.

Reset.

Mudd set his disruptor to kill without vaporizing and tried again. The freckled Colonel O'Malley fell to the ground in a heap and Mudd began to search him, locating the door control module. He clicked it.

Nothing happened. He clicked it again and again. No reaction. "Computer!" he shouted, really getting annoyed now. "Why won't the door open!"

"The outer door was automatically sealed when biosign termination occurred at..."

"Oh, come on!" screamed Mudd, and kicked the lifeless corpse of O'Malley until a mismatched pair of officers with leis around their necks happened upon him.

He came face to face with Lorca again. "Mudd!" scowled Lorca. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"This," said Mudd, and activated the ship's self-destruct sequence on a ten-second timer. He laughed as he watched Lorca scramble to override it without success and listened as the captain screamed in useless fury as a yellow-white explosion engulfed them.

Reset.

It was a space whale. Burnham was pleased for it, Lorca was completely annoyed at the prospect of playing chaperone, and he sent Burnham off to handle the situation.

Not ten minutes later, the gormagander was aboard, and soon after a message beeped on the command console at Lorca's arm. He glanced down. It was from Lab 26. He tapped it.

It read simply "TINRUEDR" with no signature attached, but Lorca didn't need an ident to recognize Lalana's typing, because she had a habit of hitting three to four letters at once with her epithelial filaments, jumbling them all together. TINRUEDR? His eyes widened. "Red alert!" he barked, launching himself from the captain's chair to a very confused bridge. "Tyler, with me!"

The ship's site to site transport did not respond to them. They were locked out of the ship's commands. The turbolift was also not responding. "Down the turbolift shaft," ordered Lorca. Thankfully, down was a much quicker trip than up. Lorca slid down the access ladder at an almost breakneck pace and he and Tyler burst out onto level nine with phasers at the ready.

He found O'Malley laying in a pool of blood in the corridor and checked for a pulse. It was weak, but still there. He grabbed O'Malley. "Computer, emer—" The words died on his lips. No emergency transport. They were locked out.

O'Malley groaned slightly, eyes half-opening. "Gabe," he managed, only the first syllable.

Lorca stared at O'Malley. He was so pale even his freckles seemed to be disappearing. "Tyler! Get someone from medical down here." The only other option was try to carry O'Malley up the turbolift shaft, but with the loss of blood, he needed to be stabilized first. Tyler rushed off to fetch a doctor.

O'Malley's hand weakly reached up and grabbed Lorca's collar. "Listen," whispered O'Malley. "He locked the outer door, but there's a secret way in. Bottom left panel." This was a gross violation of the lab's security procedures, but Lorca could lecture O'Malley about it later.

Lorca carefully lowered O'Malley back down and went to the indicated panel, prying it off with his fingernails. There was a passage behind it too narrow for Lorca. "How am I supposed to," Lorca began, turning to look back at O'Malley only to find O'Malley was crawling over. Lorca darted back to O'Malley's side. "Stop moving!"

O'Malley clutched his hand to his wound. The main attack had been a knife wound directed just below the body armor and up towards the gut to ensure a slow, lingering death. "I'm fine. Look, this is just dinner at my house. Help me in there. I'll open the door from the inside."

There was enough blood on the floor to bathe in, but every minute out here was a minute Mudd was in there with Lalana and Mischkelovitz unsupervised. Lorca dragged O'Malley over to the passageway, helped him squirm inside it, and watched as he disappeared into the darkness. Then he did the thing he hated most: he waited.

The outer door opened after a minute. O'Malley was slumped against the wall, a dark red smear of blood behind him. Lorca stepped into the outer chamber and crouched down to check his pulse.

"Tell Melly... just as much."

"Tell her yourself," said Lorca. O'Malley's pulse was so weak Lorca could not find it.

O'Malley smiled faintly. "Guess... your secret's safe... with me." He closed his eyes and slumped forward. A message popped up on the internal door controls: BIOLOCK PROTOCOL ACTIVE. The outer door slid shut. The display updated: EXTERNAL ACCESS PROHIBITED.

Lorca straightened and readied his phaser. Thankfully, he was already inside. He hit the command to open the internal door.

The intruder in the lab heard the door and reacted by grabbing Mischkelovitz and pulling her in front of him. "Captain! How good of you to join us," said a familiarly taunting voice.

"Mudd," sneered Lorca, face contorting with rage. "What the hell are you doing on my ship!"

Mudd was standing with one hand tightly around Mischkelovitz's neck. Lalana was just off to the side, hands knocking rapidly together in alarm. Mischkelovitz was much smaller than Mudd and made a poor human shield, but between her and Lalana, Mudd had made the better choice in terms of coverage. Mischkelovitz looked at Lorca with terror in her eyes. "Gabe!" she squealed. Her usage of the short form was not something she had ever done directly before. Lorca knew from watching her on the security feeds it was how she referred to him when she was alone.

Mudd grinned, disruptor hovering at Mischkelovitz's ear. "First-name basis! Well then, Gabe, looks like I've found a few of your secrets this time! Never thought I'd get to see your lului. It's much better than the one in that Markalian zoo."

The distance wasn't tremendous, and the lights burned his eyes, but Lorca felt he could make the shot. He aimed his phaser.

In response, Mudd pulled Mischkelovitz more tightly against him and turned his disruptor towards the captain.

Both shots went off at the same time, but neither hit their mark. A blue shape appeared in the air between them, propelled from the side, intercepting both blasts and absorbing the shot that might have taken Mudd's life and would certainly have taken Lorca's. Lorca had one fleeting glimpse of green eyes looking at him and then she was gone, disintegrated into wisps of dust that burned away into nothing and left a singed smell on the air.

The shock lasted but a moment as both men realized their kill shots had failed to eliminate their opponent and took action.

Mudd fired again, but his shot went too high as Lorca ducked into a charge, screaming with a fury that told Mudd he had made an enormous mistake. With absolutely no concern for Mischkelovitz, Lorca barreled into Mudd and his hostage, slamming them both to the ground, the brunt of the impact cracking a number of Mischkelovitz's ribs. Straddling both Mudd and Mischkelovitz, Lorca pinned Mudd's weapon with one hand and pummeled the butt of his phaser against Mudd's face with such force it shattered Mudd's nose. He brought it down again, rage filling his ears, totally oblivious to Mudd's pained yell and Mischkelovitz's terrified, raspy scream as she struggled to breathe beneath his weight. There was a faint crunch as Mudd's orbital bone fractured.

Lorca dropped his phaser but did not cease his onslaught, continuing to batter Mudd with his bare fist. The fracture deepened, the face pulped, and still he continued, the cracking sounds coming as much from his own fist as Mudd's skull bones.

He finally heard Mischkelovitz crying and stopped, rolling off of her and Mudd. His breath heaved in his chest. Mischkelovitz squirmed weakly and whimpered in pain. Lorca's right hand was a uselessly twisted mess, but he managed to get his arms under Mischkelovitz and lift her up.

He stepped over O'Malley's body in the outer chamber. He was careful to keep Mischkelovitz's face against his chest so she would not see what had happened. As if losing a husband and sibling already weren't enough, she had now lost the one person who probably loved her more than anyone else in the universe.

Lorca hushed her softly. "Shh, I got you." He understood what it felt like to lose everyone and everything. Now he understood it twice over. He could still see that last flash of Lalana's bright green eyes in his mind. He triggered the external door with the internal system override.

Tyler, Culber, Larsson, and Allan were in the corridor. Culber gasped and quickly went into action, scanning with his tricorder for injuries. He scanned O'Malley, too, but the life sign was already long gone. Allan and Larsson looked ridiculous in their leis, drinks in hand. Allan also looked absolutely distraught. "This isn't happening!" Allan exclaimed. "How is this happening? This isn't supposed to happen!" He looked to Larsson as if he expected the Swede to somehow know.

Tyler noticed the bloody tangle of Lorca's hand limply dangling alongside Mischkelovitz's arm. "Let me take her, sir," he offered.

"She's my responsibility," said Lorca. He owed O'Malley that, at least.

The timer on Mudd's device maxed out. They were enveloped by a yellow-white explosion.

Reset.

Lab 26 was full of secrets, but not the one Mudd was after. At least Mischkelovitz had turned out to be a useful source of information in the minutes before Lorca's arrival. "It's not us!" she had squealed at him. "We're trying bloak creaks! Bloak creaks—bloak—cloak breaks! You want the mushrooms!" Finally, Mudd understood where he needed to go.

Engineering test bay alpha. On paper, mushroom spore propulsion sounded like a bad joke, but apparently it was a viable technology. Armed with this information, Mudd began his assault on engineering. He had full control of the computer and made short work of the staff in there. Unfortunately, he was unable to ascertain exactly how the drive functioned.

Something was missing, he realized. If he was going to sell this ship to the Klingons, he had to figure out what.

This time, he beamed onto the bridge, took out the crew there first, and then came last for Lorca in his ready room. Perfect timing, really. But then, it always was.

Reset.

Stamets was having a very weird day.

One moment, he was in quarters dismissing Culber's ongoing concerns about his personality changes as being silly, because he felt good, relaxed, better than ever. The next, they were enveloped by a yellow-white explosion and then he was walking down the corridor with Culber away from sickbay again.

"Hang on a sec," he said. "Weren't we just here a minute ago?"

Culber looked at him like he might be crazy, which was a look he was getting used to these days.

Stamets dismissed it the first time. Some sort of bad déjà vu.

Then it happened again. And again.

Stamets tried to alert Burnham and Tyler. "It all starts with a gormagander!" he managed.

It was a space whale. "Oh, for crying out loud," said Lorca. "Cancel yellow alert."

"Sir, scans show the gormagander's bio readings to be highly unstable," reported Saru, and informed Lorca that they were required under the Endangered Species Act to transport it somewhere.

Both Burnham and Tyler suddenly objected. Burnham looked like she had seen a ghost. Lorca stared at the two of them, wondering what was going on. "Let's beam this thing into the shuttle bay and drop it off at the nearest sanctuary soon as we can," said Lorca.

"Captain, I would like to run point on this, sir," said Burnham.

"I don't give a damn," Lorca said, shaking his head at her. "I just want it done." The sooner they got this little detour over and done with, the sooner they could get back to doing something, anything of actual use in the war. Even if that something was just scheduled spore drive tests.

"I request security oversight of the operation," said Tyler.

"I still don't give a damn," said Lorca, and sent them on their way.

A few minutes later, the computer suddenly initiated a black alert. Lorca had not issued any such command. "Computer, show me engineering!"

"Denied," said the computer.

He ordered Tyler to engineering and began to elicit solutions from the bridge crew. "There is nothing we can do, captain. We are locked out of our systems," reported Saru. "We only have nonessential systems."

"Screw the systems, get all security personnel to the lab any way possible," said Lorca. "Through the Jeffreys tubes. Airiam, get me any useful systems control you can manage. I'll take environmental, lights, anything."

"Warning, critical systems overload in 20 seconds," said the computer.

Twenty seconds was not enough time to do anything. Lorca felt a chill at the utter familiarity of this whole situation. It was the Buran all over again.

"Warning, drive overload," said the computer.

"Somebody give me something!" he screamed at the bridge, not wanting this to be the way it ended, not after everything. He looked helplessly at his crew. He had failed them entirely.

Explosion and reset.

It just kept happening over and over. Stamets was trapped in a time loop and no one on the ship but him knew it. It was some quirk of the quantum nature of the mycelial network he was now genetically connected to.

He figured a little bit more out each time. There was an intruder on the ship who arrived hiding in the belly of a gormagander. The intruder had control of the ship's computer. Every single time, people died. Different people different times.

He tried to explain it to Lorca on the fourth reset. The first attempt went about as well as could be expected.

"Captain, we're caught in a temporal loop!" he declared as he entered the bridge.

Lorca pressed the controls on the arm of his chair. "Dr. Culber. Lieutenant Stamets seems to have gotten loose on my bridge. See if you can't come up here and corral him?"

"No, listen to me!" exclaimed Stamets, but Lorca did not.

The fifth reset, the intruder did something different, and Lorca was not even on the bridge when Stamets got there. The sixth reset, things were back to normal and Stamets spoke Lorca's words as Lorca said them: "Lieutenant Stamets seems to have gotten loose on my bridge—" at this point Lorca stopped talking and just stared, so Stamets finished the sentence for him "—see if you can't come up here and corral him."

They were locked out of the main computer functions, but Lorca managed to open a shipwide comm and Mudd was all too happy to answer and stare Lorca directly in the face.

"We meet again, captain," said Mudd. "And again, and again..." He chuckled in amusement.

"Mudd! What the hell are you doing on my ship," scowled Lorca.

"Really, captain, this time you've managed to surprise me! How did you find out I was here?"

Stamets suddenly got the sinking feeling that enlisting Lorca's aid was too obvious and would tip Mudd off as to his awareness of the time loop.

In the end, Lorca antagonized Mudd, Mudd activated the ship's self-destruct in retaliation, and they all blew up again.

Stamets tried Tyler. Tyler was trusted by the captain and could advise discretion, but the problem was, Tyler did not trust Stamets. Fair enough. As much time as Stamets spent trying to get to know him in the time loop, for Tyler, it was always the first time they had ever really spoken. Tilly was also a bust; she was at the party and a little too drunk to take him seriously.

Stamets turned his attention to Burnham. He managed to convince her after a few tries, but they were almost out of time in the currently ongoing loop. "Tell me a secret," he prompted her. "Something that will immediately prove to you we've had this conversation. Something you've never admitted to anyone. I promise it'll be safe with me."

She believed him, so she told him her secret.

Explosion and reset.

Lorca sat in the captain's chair. "Is the fish safely on board yet?" he asked.

"Technically, it's not a fish," said Saru, "it's..."

Lorca shot Saru a look. Saru obligingly shut up. Then Culber requested Lorca in sickbay urgently to discuss Lieutenant Stamets. Lorca stepped into the turbolift with a gnawing feeling of worry in his stomach. "Sickbay, direct."

The turbolift started, then stopped. "Destination canceled," the computer informed him. The doors at the rear of the turbolift opened and Lorca turned to see one of his officers crumple to the ground with a knife in his back.

"Heavy," said a familiar, bearded man holding a disruptor.

"Mudd!" exclaimed Lorca and ordered a red alert. The computer did not respond to him. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"You ask me that question every single time," said Mudd. "You know that, don't you? Of course you don't." Mudd fired a shot past Lorca's arm in a demonstration of his seriousness and ordered Lorca to move. "I really can't take it from the top all over for you again, Lorca. The message from the doctor was not real, I just wanted some alone time with you. There's an area of the ship I can't access and I'm hoping you're hiding your secrets to the spore drive—"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mudd," said Lorca, immediately thinking of Lab 26, "but if you think I'm gonna help you in any way at all, you're crazier than I remember."

"There really are so many ways to blow up this ship, it's almost a design flaw," said Mudd. "Computer! Access self-destruct program."

A chill rushed across Lorca. This was entirely familiar to him. It felt like he was on the Buran all over again. "Stop," he said. "We'll go wherever you want."

"Then get a move on," said Mudd, giving his disruptor a little shake to indicate Lorca should get a move on.

Lorca realized they were not heading towards Lab 26. On the one hand, he was relieved because that meant everything there was safe. On the other, he would really have liked the support of O'Malley's rifle and independent security protocols right now.

Instead, Mudd dropped every hapless crewman unfortunate enough to cross paths with them. At least there were fewer people in the halls than usual. A significant portion of the crew were attending that party.

"You know, I've had a lot of fun so far on Discovery. Found out so many of your secrets. Even had a go at your lului!"

Lorca realized Mudd had already accessed Lab 26. "Mudd," he growled, jaw clenching and teeth hissing.

"Don't worry, captain, that was ages ago! Haven't bothered with them at all this time around. She and that darling little Dr. Frankenstein are snug as bugs right now. I can change that, of course, if you don't cooperate, Gabe."

They arrived outside of Lorca's study. Mudd needed Lorca to provide the personal passcode for entry. Once inside, Mudd found not the secrets of the spore drive he was so desperately searching for, but a lovely collection of weapons from across the cosmos instead. He began to rummage through the guns on offer, looking for one to try.

"Do you know how many times I've had the pleasure of taking your life, Lorca?" sneered Mudd. "Fifty-three! But who's counting. And it never gets old." Mudd checked his wrist. "Oh, drat, we're almost out of time. I'll figure out how that little drive of yours works sooner or later. I've got all the time in the world." And he shot Lorca and watched him vaporize into little flecks of burning particles.

Reset.

"Has that fish beamed aboard safely yet?"

"Well, technically it's not a fish—"

Lorca gave Saru a look. Saru obligingly shut up. "Where the hell are Burnham and Tyler?" asked Lorca. He had called them to the bridge five minutes ago.

Then music began to play. Sweeping, orchestral, triumphant. Wagner.

"Mr. Saru!"

"I don't understand, sir, I'm locked out of the ship's controls."

Lorca hit the panel on his chair. "Computer." Nothing. "Computer, respond!"

The turbolift doors opened. "Let me see what I can do!" announced a familiar, taunting voice. "Computer, reduce volume so we can have a normal, adult conversation."

"Yes, Captain Mudd," said the computer.

Lorca rose from his chair. "Captain Mudd!" he exclaimed, incredulous.

Mudd shrugged at him. "I never thought I would say this, but I'm actually tired of gloating. In any case, this is very much my ship. Your ship? Very much not at all."

Lorca started towards Mudd, because no one—not Mudd, not Cornwell, not anyone—was allowed to take Discovery from him. "All right, show's over, Mudd. Back to whatever little hole you crawled out of—"

"To the brig!" said Mudd, and Lorca vanished in the glimmer of the transporter.

Burnham, Tyler, and Stamets arrived on the bridge. Armed with Burnham's secret, Stamets had managed to enlist both her and Tyler, because while Tyler did not trust Stamets, he trusted Burnham.

Mudd vaporized Tyler in a burst of weaponized antimatter as reward for their efforts. Burnham watched in horror as Tyler vanished before her eyes.

Mudd was hitting the limits of his patience. He was at the point where destroying Discovery was seeming just as palatable an option as selling it to the Klingons. "How do I start that engine, hm? I will disintegrate every single one of you in a screaming fit of agony one at a time. Starting with you!" Mudd started towards Saru.

"Stop!" shouted Stamets. "I can't watch you kill any more people." He pulled up the sleeve of his uniform tunic, revealing the implant that allowed him to interface with the spore drive. "It needs me to work."

Mudd laughed with glee. He finally had everything he needed. "Delicious. Shall we to the engine room?"

There was no one in the brig. No one had been recently locked up, so no one was needed there on duty. Lorca tried to override the controls from inside with no luck. The computer remained unresponsive. He pounded his fists on the forcefield, knowing it would have no effect, but needing some physical outlet to his anger.

He turned his attention to the small console in the wall. It was entirely rudimentary, locked out of most ship systems, but it was his only option. It had the capacity to order food, bring out the cot from the wall, provide a moment's privacy for using the toilet, and not much else. At least, it wasn't supposed to have anything else.

Lorca blinked at the words "BRIG CHESS" in the list of available commands and touched it.

"ENTER NAME" prompted the display, offering him an old-school keyboard and four spaces to fill. Lorca was five letters, so he entered LORC. It then prompted him to set a password, this time a 4-digit numerical code. He entered 1031, Discovery's registry number.

The screen split into two halves. The left half was a leaderboard with names on it. ROVE, M.B., NATE, MISH, LLNA, SARU, AIRM, PAUL, SILY, and more. Each name had a score attached.

The right side showed who was online and listed only one player at present, MISH. Lorca had a good guess who that was. He touched the name. It then prompted him to select from a variety of chess formats including Vulcan. He selected Classic. "REQUEST SENT" appeared and then a chat room popped up.

MISH: Captain? LORC: in brig LORC: ship taken LORC: send mac MISH: Okay he's on his way by the way Lalana says there is a halo of stars everywhere.

Lorca stared at that.

LORC: what MISH: I think she is describing some sort of particle field aberration. I'm not certain what. I'm working to figure it out.

Probably it was related to however Mudd had gotten control of the ship.

O'Malley arrived and tried to lower the forcefield to no avail. "Sorry, captain, I'm totally locked out."

"Try shooting it," growled Lorca.

"That only works in movies!"

"Well if you have a better idea!" Lorca exclaimed.

"I might. Let's call John. If anyone can get control of the systems, it's him."

"Groves?" Lorca found that assertion faintly ridiculous. Groves could get control of a ship that its own captain had been locked out of?

"As he's very fond of pointing out, he could have walked out of that brig any time he wanted to. He simply chose not to. He's probably the best systems hacker you'll ever meet."

A long time ago, Mischkelovitz had said John Groves could be useful in unexpected ways. It seemed the time had finally come for Groves to fulfill that mandate and serve a purpose.

While Lorca languished in the brig and Stamets stalled Mudd in the engineering lab, Burnham continued working to figure out how Mudd was engineering the time loop. Understanding that could bring an end to all of this.

Mudd was not the only thing that had been hiding in the gormagander. An entire ship, linked to the device on Mudd's arm, served as the basis of the time loop power.

Burnham had a plan. There was one secret of Lorca's that Mudd had yet to unravel: her. She was something the Klingons would pay a lot to get, perhaps even more than Discovery itself. She approached Mudd in the ready room, revealed herself, and tantalized Mudd with the prospect of selling her for even more riches.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Mudd. "What's in it for you?"

"Lieutenant Tyler," said Burnham.

"Lieutenant Tyler is dead," said Mudd.

"Not for long," said Burnham, and used one of the weaponized antimatter modules to disintegrate herself before Mudd's eyes.

The Klingons were hailing. "Damn it!" exclaimed Mudd. He wanted everything. Especially now that he knew exactly how much everything on this ship was worth.

In the brig, Groves released Lorca and opened his mouth to gloat about the sudden reversal of their fortunes, but his triumph was short-lived.

Reset.

Stamets, Burnham, and Tyler approached Lorca. After so many loops, there was no time. They had to get everything right. It was unlikely they would get another chance.

When Mudd arrived on the bridge, Lorca did not even turn to look at the turbolift doors as he said, "Captain Mudd."

"What's this?" asked Mudd, finding all of them ready and waiting.

Lorca stood up. "Your chair," he offered, stepping aside.

They told Mudd he had won. That after so many loops, Stamets had concluded Mudd was unbeatable, and now Mudd had everything he wanted.

"So, Harcourt Fenton Mudd, the USS Discovery is yours." Even knowing it was a falsehood, it still galled Lorca to say the words.

"As am I," said Burnham.

Mudd laughed. "Don't try to con a con man!"

"I'm not," said Lorca. "I'm negotiating with a businessman. My offer is simple. The lives of my crew in exchange for... Burnham, the ship, and Stamets."

"Why would a Federation captain do that?" asked Mudd.

"I will not have a repeat of the Buran." This, at least, was not a falsehood. He extended Mudd his hand. "Your word, Mudd."

Mudd took his time, considered the hand being offered, and finally smiled. "Well, I've never been one to look a gift captain in the mouth!" He shook Lorca's hand with enthusiasm. Lorca looked and felt crushed by the exchange. He hated this. He hated this so much.

Now that Mudd had everything he wanted, he let the temporal loop expire. The time crystal on his arm disintegrated. From here on out, everything was going to be permanent. No more do-overs.

"Captain Mudd, we are being hailed by the Klingons," reported the computer.

Lorca looked at Burnham. If any of them died now, it would be for good, forever. He did not want any of them to die.

Mudd took Burnham and Stamets down to the transporter room to meet the Klingons. "Not you, old man," Mudd said to Lorca. "Lorca, I'm gonna really miss killing you. Adieu, mon capitan!"

Lorca stood on the bridge as the door closed. "Mr. Saru," he said, and returned to the captain's chair. "Bring up the security feeds. Mr. Tyler, let's get you in position." Lorca did not smile, because there was still a risk and Burnham and Stamets were both down there with Mudd and a disruptor, but he was beginning to feel more himself now that the situation was coming back under his control.

Tyler beamed to an adjacent corridor to ambush Mudd. Lorca watched as Stamets and Burnham distracted Mudd and disarmed him. And then, the kicker: when Mudd had thought he was signaling the Klingons, he instead had signaled other parties interested in obtaining not Discovery but Mudd himself.

"Turns out, you can con a con man," said Burnham, and as he watched and listened from the bridge, Lorca smiled. Attagirl, Michael.

"The stars are gone now," Lalana said to Mischkelovitz. "Whatever was happening has ended."

Mischkelovitz stared at the readouts in the lab. Despite her best efforts and her suspicions, she had been unable to figure out exactly what Lalana was seeing, she only knew that Lalana was seeing something.

"Can you tell me all the other times you've seen these stars?" asked Mischkelovitz.

"Of course. The first time was when I met Captain Lorca on the Triton. They were lingering around him like a halo. The second time was when I came aboard Discovery. They were outside the lab, just in front of it. The third time was when we were in null time. They were diffuse that time, different, dimmer."

"And you think they lead you to where you're supposed to be?" This had been Lalana's assertion when the stars had shown up again thirty minutes earlier.

"I can think of no other explanation, except this time, they were everywhere, so bright and sparkling, and now suddenly they are gone."

Mischkelovitz chewed her lip. She did not think the "star halo" was what Lalana thought it was. Mischkelovitz did not believe in fate. "I need something," said Mischkelovitz. "And I need you to answer me honestly. That's not the thing I need, but I need you do this, too."

"I will answer what I am able," said Lalana, which was no promise at all.

Mischkelovitz knew better than to speak the words where the security monitors would overhear. She twitched her finger at Lalana and they moved into Lalana's quarters. Mischkelovitz locked the door behind them, turned towards Lalana, and said with sudden strength and clarity, "You're a part of Section 31, aren't you?"

Lalana tilted her head to the side. "I do not even know what that is. Why would you say such a thing?"

"We were working for them, and they have Rischka's mesearch, and I need that research and the quantum accelerator and scanner we developed. Can you get those things for me?"

Lalana straightened, her tail against the floor for balance. "I will steal it if I have to. How did you know I was with Section 31?"

"Because," grinned Mischkelovitz, her eyes crazily wide and somehow more uneven than usual, "you always lie." In Mischkelovitz's experience, that was the one thing you could always count on Section 31 to do. They had lied when they promised things to her and Milosz about their research. They had lied when they took the research away after he died.

Lalana clicked her tongue in happy mirth. "You are only the second human to have noticed that!"

O'Malley and Lorca finally resumed their discussion in Lorca's ready room.

"Look, Gabriel, it's all well and good, you locking me out of the communications systems, but I would really like to call my wife, and frankly, if it comes out that I didn't report anything because you prevented me, that's going to reflect rather badly. So knock it off."

Lorca frowned. "I can't let you send that report, Mac."

"Don't you want to know what it says?" O'Malley tossed his padd onto Lorca's desk.

It was the worst report Lorca had ever read. It mentioned an incident had occurred involving a weapon in the captain's quarters, but that the witness was unable to provide an official statement, investigation was presently stalled and inconclusive, and factors were at play that might have compromised both parties regarding the incident. There was no mention of what these factors were, what the accusation was, or even the fact the unnamed witness was an admiral who had been captured by Klingons. At the bottom the report said Preliminary investigation inconclusive.

"So now our asses are covered," said O'Malley. "My ass, anyway. If Cornwell ever turns up, I was unable to proceed owing to her absence, and if you get your wish, the poor woman will end up murdered and this will never go any further."

Lorca chewed his lip. He could hear it in O'Malley's tone, but just in case, he looked up at O'Malley's face. It was grim and very displeased. "Don't even think about thanking me," said O'Malley. "I officially owe you no favors. And for the record, Cornwell's right. You do need help. It just so happens we still need you. I feel sick for my part in this, do you understand that? I'm absolutely gutted. I don't know how you can live with yourself."

Lorca's mouth tugged into a frown. He could live with it because he still had Discovery and everyone on it, but he could tell this was eating O'Malley up. "Listen," he began.

"No, you listen! You're better than this. Every time you do some awful thing to someone, you always manage to make up for it somehow, so you have to do that now. You have to make this count. I don't care what it is, just give me something that matters. Just—something!" O'Malley's lip trembled and his nose scrunched up. He clasped his hand to his face. His voice cracked as he said, "God, I hate you! You have to do better, Gabriel, please."

Lorca considered O'Malley. For all that O'Malley was pathetic, he had also gone out of his way to protect Lorca despite the personal toll it was taking. "All right, Mac," said Lorca. "I'll find a way to make this count." He would single-handedly kill every last Klingon if that's what it took.

O'Malley's hand fell away, revealing a pain as deep as any Lorca had ever seen. "It's not that easy." O'Malley sighed, shook his head, and looked away. Then he said in a small voice, "Computer. Site to site transport. Personal quarters."

Lorca had a fairly good idea O'Malley had done that so no one would see him cry. He stared at the empty air where O'Malley had been standing. The ship seemed suddenly a little lonelier.

Part 67

#Gabriel Lorca #Captain Lorca #Michael Burnham #Star Trek #Discovery #Star Trek Discovery #fanfic #fanfiction #Saru #Paul Stamets #Hugh Culber #Harry Mudd #Harcourt Fenton Mudd #Ash Tyler

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