#and compared to other species they pick up on this stuff really quickly

[langernameohnebedeutung]

My crowfriends came so close today <3 I love watching their trust in me develop

#I think what makes crows really interesting is that they're not domesticated. Domesticated animals are evolved to be able to truste you #and wild aninmals usually are a lot more wary #but crows got all the traits of a species that lived AMONG humans for centuries and sees humans produce some of their main food sources #and this paired with their brains results in an uncanny ability to conceptualise humans as individuals #obviously you're still huge and loud and scary and make too sudden movements to them sometimes #but just like they recognise faces they're also quick to learn 'oh this SCaRy tHiNG that HUMAN does didn't hurt me' and then they come back #and compared to other species they pick up on this stuff really quickly #and that's how you get a wild bird flying about town to suddenly go 'hey I'll check up on what That Human is doing n peek into their window

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys sorry, I am not immune to Hazbin/Helluva propaganda. I am also not immune to criticizing the designs and character motivations.

So! Let’s start with one of the most redesigned characters in the show: Beelzebub^^

So, sorta hot take, I really like the idea behind Beelzebub in the show. Ik "boo tomato tomato," but hear me out. I like how she is meant represent the hellhounds she rules over (ik she actually is a reference to Jay Jay, but let me have this connection PLEASE). However, the source material is very bug-like and compact.

The HB Beelzebub is NOT that bug like. Or compact.

With this redesign, I decided to pick all the stuff I liked about the og, and what I wanted to see more of. I kept her colors and general vibe but made her more built like a bumble bee with more inspo from the fly Beelzebub.

This is what I got.

Progress doodles n stuff below cut (it's gonna be an essay, y'all know the drill):

(She was much sharper in the sketch lol)

DESIGN EXPLANATION:

Anyways, I always imagined Beelzebub to be, y'know, more BEE like. The show did not give me that, so I did it myself. I made her wings bigger, gave her an actual bee tail and face (with the proboscis and stinger too), and more stripes and fluff. I also made her small and slightly chubby. Gotta hone the bumble bee.

I thought the hair made the original design too cluttered, but I wanted to keep the party colors. To compromise, I stuck all the goop in her tail. It sort of works like a firefly's abdomen and a lava lamp. I also nullified her cloths, so they would blend more with the body and help pop the neon colors in her eyes, antenna, and tail.

When she stands at her normal form, she is the smallest of the sins. But when she is in her "true" form (that I have not illustrated yet), she is the biggest of the sins. This is a reference to how gluttony starts small but gets really large over time, both mentally and physically.

As for additional details, I wanted to keep her "foxness". So in a brilliant brainstorm of ideas, I came up with the concept of "Masks". Basically, all the sins I'll redraw will have them. The masks are meant not only to represent their hellborn, but to represent how the sins pretend to be good things at first.

Stuff like "Rest a little more, it won't hurt" and "Be proud and don't care for what others say" are how they present on the surface, but if you continue those mindsets in a toxic way, it turns into sloth and pride and stuff instead of self-care and being proud of things.

For Bee specifically, it's "Have a little more, you deserve it!" and she has a hell-hound/fox mask. This also feeds into her personality change.

PERSONALITY CHANGES:

In the og, she's a party animal who cares for... moderation??? Yeah, I hate this about Helluva Boss. Why is it so hard to write *sshole/negligent people in power and why is it only Mammon who's allowed to be like this? Give me more morally dark grey powerful people!

That's where Bee is different for the redesign. She runs te lowest ring in hell and is in charge of hellhounds, the lowest species in hell. B/c of this, she is much more lenient compared to the higher ranked sins in hell, which is why she is often seen talking and hanging out with lower classes. (She gets slack for this from the other sins). She is also the only sin who has had open relations with lower class citizens all the way down to hellhounds. However, none of them last. Most of her relations outside of the sins are one-night stands and flings.

As for how she sorta sucks: she is still a party animal, yes, but she purposely chooses to be blind and ignore all the suffering that occurs at the parties. People have fun, but they overindulge, and as a result get sick, sad, and violent. However, Bee leaves the parties before they get this way. She does not want to see it. She is negligent. When she comes back to the party aftermaths, she quickly gets her workers to clean everything, so she does not have to discover anything gruesome and sad. She just wants to live, party, and see people "happy". (Sort of like Gatsby's parties minus the pining for a single woman who does not care for her).

... I wonder what would happen if that mental image she had shattered? I guess only the future will tell.

But anyway, if you have any questions or characters you recommend I design or redesign, feel free to ask lol.

I hope this made at least a little sense. Have a lovely day^^

#beelzebub is probably one of my favorite sins in the show aesthetically #but it's so cluttered and looked so painful to animate #also having her be stout and fluffy seemed so novel to me #no more skinny girls with thick thighs give me tiny girls with thick everything #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #helluva boss #helluva fanart #helluva beelzebub #helluva beelzebub redesign #redesign #character redesign #vivziepop #helluva redesign #helluvaboss #also if you don't like this please don't comment that #i don't need that negativity in my life this is just for fun #katiekatdragon27

[evanwritesgames]

Species of Starjourn: Heraclites

Yeah, they're in honor of Heracross (the best Pokemon). But also, get this, I learned about the "read more" function! Ohhhhh yeah. No more giant walls of text on your feed! BEHOLD! (yes, I'm excited, I suck at this stuff)

Heraclites are the smallest large fauna on their home planet, called Heracles by the TENOR explorers that first discovered it. The Heraclites use scent for differentiation and identification within their semi-verbal languages and never developed the practice of naming things representationally the way human languages do. 

First contact occurred in 2428, relatively recently, and the Heraclites are one of the newest members of ALTO. The story of that first meeting is now famous across ALTO: the first thing the Heraclites did when they saw humans was try and toss them into the atmosphere of the low-gravity moon where first contact occurred. One human remarked that they were like “a whole species of Hercules bugs” which prompted an impromptu debate about the Romanization of “Heracles” and the use of the word “bug” that the Heraclites overheard. Admiring the way humans compete for dominance by talking, a new idea for them, the Heraclites went with the perceived winner and thus, Heracles and Heraclites. While names and remembering them can still pose a challenge for your average Heraclite, they’ve quickly adopted human and other ALTO species’ vocabulary whenever translators fail

Heraclites are very, very strong. Akin to some species of insect on Earth, their physical strength is disproportionate to their bodies. Females are larger than males but their physiology means that strength does not differ by sex, but by individual. Compared to humans, it doesn’t vary much but among the Heraclites, even slight variations are critical. Their primary way of resolving disputes, sealing pacts, and entertaining themselves have always revolved around their strength.

This is because the very successful evolutionary strategy their species developed was to simply pick things up and hurl them. This worked on predators, on unwanted pests, and on materials they needed to do things like industrialize. A  great deal of secondary and tertiary industry is unnecessary for Heraclites as each one is pretty much strong enough to move things without technological aid. They can also throw objects, such as trade goods, for miles on their home planet. For a long time, being hit by flying goods was a common cause of injury and death which necessitated the regulation of “tossing path” where teams of dedicated logistics personnel will launch packages from one designated area to another.

The Heraclites have invented many sports that revolve around feats of strength. They domesticated a species of armadillo-like creatures that became their standard ball. After abolishing the practice of using living things, the creature is still a sports mascot and some traditionalist Heraclites secretly raise the creatures for underground hurling leagues across Heraclite, and later, ALTO space.

Heraclite society is highly decentralized due to their approach to socialization. Heraclites evolved to be individualistic and territorial, with each in charge of a personal cultivation territory. Their primary source of nutrition is also the most successful weed on their planet -- it grows everywhere and it’s always been very easy, especially with low industrial impact on ecology, for Heraclites to feed themselves. In times where food was scarcer, Heraclites would take to roaming and challenging each other for territorial rights. This was the equivalent of their heroic era and has taken on a lot of the same glamor, mythologization, and nostalgia as, for example, the ancient Greek heroes and mythology have on Earth. 

Heraclites tend to live apart most of the time, on separate estates similar to farms on Earth. Their “cities” are really places where individuals are tolerant of others enough to live a little closer together in the same region. To this day, Heraclites only tend to meet in large numbers when they have to and their history could be charted with frequency of large meetings as a metric. Heraclite government tends to be localized and temporary because governing is barely necessary outside large projects and Heraclites tend not to seek or enjoy having power over others. To them, proving you’re stronger is pretty much good enough on its own and they derive most of their life satisfaction from highly personal goals and activities. Most Heraclite social activities are seasonal and they’ve maintained the practice of trading, reproducing, and congregating at specific times only. Now that they are a member of ALTO, Heraclites are receiving a crash course in choosing representatives among themselves to interact with other species. It turns out they have little problem being around any number of individuals from other species but they still tend to avoid each other when possible.

Economics among Heraclites are similarly loose and unregulated. They don’t really have merchants or mercantilism, though some think of economic competition as an entertaining novelty. They feel the same way about debates, staring contests, and other forms of competition humans take for granted. They are, however, very interested in our martial arts, wrestling, and thumb wars. Their only disappointment is that they can’t participate in physical contests against most other species without injuring or killing them.

Heraclites, having enjoyed a relatively peaceful evolutionary journey and rise to civilization, have never committed genocide, farmed or hunted a species to extinction, etc. They are remarkably innocent of the kinds of atrocities most intelligent species eventually commit whether against their own kind or others. Heraclites do not kill unless they absolutely must and consider causing accidental deaths to be a grievous stain on their personal moral countenance. The comfort with which others kill is a source of abiding discomfort for the Heraclites who, though they can intellectually understand different situations, usually defer back to their natural prohibition against the behavior. When a Heraclite gives an intellectual argument for their attitude, it usually revolves around the finality of it. They also have a hard time with change as a result, since they acknowledge that it’s difficult to know if a change is permanent. Individual Heraclites can differ about these attitudes but for most, killing is a bone of contention.

Though they understand fear rationally, Heraclites do not feel much threat from physical sources and have to be convinced to take seriously some dangers obvious to others. They are considered, by and large, to be agreeable and friendly but they also have a confidence so deep and so complete that it can seem arrogant. Fear of loss, death, and change are as deeply felt by Heraclites as any emotional and intelligent species. When a Heraclite doesn’t feel confident, they are reluctant to act, make decisions, or take sides.

Heraclites like stories about single heroes achieving great feats of strength, courage, and wit. They tend to see their species as one “tribe” and apply the same reasoning to other species, even ones with a much larger spectrum of difference. Heraclites, for example, wouldn’t feel much need to differentiate between humans born in this colony vs. that one, where these differences are fairly important in human culture.

Hierarchies and complex command structures like TENOR’s do not come naturally to Heraclites. Their own organizations and ships are free collectives by comparison with cooperation only ever being a matter of free choice and never obligation. Slavery, to a Heraclite, is almost unimaginably evil and is one of the fundamental standards of judgment they use with other species. Any organizing principle or practice too close to slavery and the Heraclites would rather throw you off a moon than talk to you. Ones who have read human history, for example, can become more skeptical of humans and their institutions due to the presence of slavery and slavery-derived institutions. For example, 20th and 21st century capitalism is considered to be a later stage of a centuries-long tolerance for slavery so deeply ingrained that humans are confused about it to this day. This confusion confuses the Heraclites who claim that it is obvious and a good thing humans figured out how to do it different, even if our hierarchies and complex webs and rules of obligation can seem unnecessarily limiting to them. 

As a result of their unique traits and culture, Heraclites rarely if ever actually join TENOR and the few that have are somewhat burdened with the distinction of being, essentially, ambassadors from their species to the others that comprise ALTO.

#pixel art #aseprite #indiegamedev #rpg maker mz #character design #aliens #space opera #starjourn

[steel--fairy]

drabble -- mermaid au part 5

on ao3. this is actually the last bit i have written for the mer au. so. may be a while until there's any more. also, more rambly notes for once at the end of this post : )

“So, how do mer keep Pokemon around? If you even do. I shouldn’t presume anything.”

Steven hummed as they headed deeper into Shoal Cave. While Darius was needed to allow Steven to get around, it did have the unfortunate side effect of scaring off most other Pokemon. His dear Swampert cut an intimidating figure, even if he was as friendly as could be. Wallace had seen a few Snorunt hiding as they made their way through. Not great, but Spheal were notoriously friendly. It was likely they wouldn’t run whenever they found a herd.

“As friends, you mean?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Two just decide to be friends and stick to each other’s side.”

Not very exciting, but to be expected given Steven had never seen a Poke Ball before.

“That’s how it was for most of our history as well. Then Poke Balls came along, and you could suddenly have Pokemon anywhere you went, as well as far more than the previous norm of only one or two.”

Steven paused at that. “More than one or two? How many do you have?”

Wallace beamed, more than eager to boast about his darlings. “Five! Darius, of course, plus Elizabeth, Victoria, Alexander, and Theresa! A Luvdisc, Milotic, Gyarados, and Tentacruel,” he added when Steven started to look slightly confused at the list of names.

However, Wallace’s explanation turned that confusion into alarm.

“A Gyarados?” he yelped, nearly falling off of Darius. His voice had gone up several octaves. “You just… carry a Gyarados around in your pocket?”

Wallace tried not to grimace. Gyarados were feared by humans, and it only made sense for them to be just as feared by mer. Perhaps even more so by mer considering that water was the domain of Gyarados as opposed to the land.

“He’s a sweetheart,” Wallace assured Steven. Darius nodded along. Steven didn’t look particularly reassured, but his tail stopped twitching nervously. “And I’m not going to be bringing him out, so there’s no need to worry.”

That finally seemed to calm Steven down.

“How about you?” Wallace asked, trying to quickly change the subject. “Have you befriended any Pokemon?”

“I have!” For all their differences in biology, it was good to know their species had something in common. No one, human or mer, could resist the friendship of Pokemon. “He didn’t come with me today because I needed to meet up with a human and he’s shy, but Anorith and I usually go everywhere together.”

Wallace paused midstep. “An Anorith?” he asked, completely baffled.

“Yes!” The fondness in Steven’s voice was familiar. “He’s got the cutest little claws and teeth!”

“No, I mean—” How should Wallace phrase this? He couldn’t just say ‘Steven, your friend should be dead.’ “How did you two meet?”

Steven’s explanation was not much of an explanation. He’d dived deep into a cave and found a large troupe of Anorith and its evolution, Armaldo. This was interspersed with long winded details about the cave’s mineral make up and how it compared to other caves Steven had visited. Wallace had to pay close attention to figure out any concrete details.

Wallace could only assume this troupe had somehow survived everything that had killed the rest of its species over the millennia. Perhaps living deep in some unknown cave had helped. It wasn’t unheard of—Relicanth had a similar story. More than that, it sounded like these Anorith retained their speculated Water type as opposed to the Rock type that came with fossil revitalization. How interesting. Maybe if Wallace could get Steven on track, he could learn more about this cave and where it was.

//notes:

just some stuff on the pokemon i picked for steven. i wanted to give him someone from his team, but none of them are really water-based. relicanth was a choice, but i didn't really vibe with it? armaldo and cradily however are implied to have been water dwelling before they died out and possibly had the water type instead of the rock type so one of them seemed like the best fit. makes anorith bug/water instead of bug/rock, meaning this steven isn't really a type specialist but oh well. also, i'm doing a playthrough of alpha sapphire right now and am using an anorith and that's my buggy boy : )

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #originshipping #steven stone #champion wallace #gym leader wallace #fic be mine

[hopeful-hugz]

@lollipopsandgunshots​ asked: 🌌 {I know nothing about Slime Rancher but those look so cute?? Just pick whatever muse of mine you want.}

Send 🌌 and I Will Assign Your Muse a Slime Rancher Slime! || Accepting

🥚 Let’s do two!

KARIYA

Tabby-Phosphor Largo

Slimepedia Information:

Tabby Slime:

Slimeology: Tabby slimes share many curious similarities to domesticated house cats of Earth. With their perky ears, striped backs, and swaying tails, you'd almost mistake them for a true feline... if they weren't made entirely of gooey slime, of course.

Rancher Risks: A Tabby slime generally doesn't mean any harm to a rancher, but like their spiritual Earth cat cousins, often causes a great deal of chaos anyway. Tabby slimes love to steal things they don't eat, like fruits and veggies, resulting in lots of unintended largo transformations on the Range.

Plortonomics: Tabby plorts are a key ingredient in a variety of 'performance enhancing' products that grant the consumer a surge of the tabby slime's signature energy and exuberance. And while athletes the world over take them to gain an edge, prolonged use often results in 'uncontrollable butt wiggles', another (less desirable) signature of the tabby slime.

Phosphor Slime:

Slimeology: Phosphor slimes come out at night, flying about the moonlit range upon their translucent wings. Phosphor slimes have a luminescent slime core that pulses with a soft glow, making them easy to spot. It's for this reason ranchers sometimes refer to them as 'low stars'.

Rancher Risks: Phosphor slimes have special needs compared to your typical slime. A phosphor slime and its plorts will quickly vanish if exposed to sunlight, meaning a rancher could quickly lose an entire corral's worth of phosphor slimes if not careful. Ranchers must either vac them up before daybreak or keep phosphor slimes in a place that is perpetually dark, like a cave.

Plortonomics: The luminescent compound found within phosphor plorts can produce light for over 100 years, making it an incredibly eco-friendly form of illumination on Earth. Cities across the globe are slowly switching over to phosphor lights, saving trillions of gigawatts of energy daily. Plus if you rub the stuff in your hair, it glows and looks really cool.

Egg’s Opinion:

🥚 SO I keep both Tabbies and Phosphors in the TWEWY Server’s Stream File for this game and they are both chaotic as fuck, while still being so chill. Deceptively so. I’m constantly finding myself checking on them and seeing what antics the tabbies are up to now, or if the phosphors need more sweet treats grown. Combining them only seemed perfect for Kariya.

IZUMI

Honey-Golden Largo

Slimepedia Information:

Honey Slime:

Slimeology: Honey slimes are an odd breed of slime composed of a hyper-sweet slime compound. Most slime scientists believe this to be the result of their slime cells replicating the natural sugars found in the fruits and floral nectars of the Far, Far Range. Most ranchers agree their plorts taste great on cereal.

Rancher Risks: The greatest danger a honey slime poses is found in their plorts. Honey plorts are the sweetest, most delicious plorts known on the Far, Far Range. Other slimes can detect them from much further away than a normal plort and will do everything in their means to get them. A rancher with honey slimes needs to be careful about unintended largos, or worse...

Plortonomics: Honey plorts are highly prized by food manufacturers. Though the plorts are naturally incredibly sweet, the discovery that they could be refined into an even sweeter substance made their demand soar. These refined honey plorts are said to score an unprecedented 867 on the Werner-Thompkins-Hong sacchrino scale, just a few points shy of 'not fit for human consumption.'

Gold Slime:

Slimeology: The most exclusive and sought after of all slime species is easily the gold slime. Very little is known about these slippery creatures as they have proven impossible to capture. Gold slimes are quick as a flash and will immediately begin to flee ranchers on sight. If a rancher is to profit from an encounter with a gold slime, they need to think quick.

Rancher Risks: Gold slimes produce no direct risks to a rancher but their appearance often induces panic and leads to (sometimes fatal) mistakes. Further, the only way to obtain gold plorts is to strike a gold slime with any spare resources in your vac. Doing so can produce a gold plort, though it also leaves a trail of additional resources in the area, leading to unintended largos, or worse.

Plortonomics: Gold plorts have little practical use and are the most valuable of all plorts simply because they are shiny and rare. Back on Earth, the elite love to adorn themselves in jewelry made of gold plorts, far exceeding the value of any terrestrial precious metal. For this reason a rancher should never pass up the chance to get a gold plort or two from a rare chance encounter with a gold slime.

Egg’s Opinion:

🥚 I’ve only seen gold slimes twice across three game files, so I’m not the most knowledgeable on them. But I do know they’re cunning, just like Izumi seems to be, not to mention she’s genuinely one of the kind! Honey slimes, I also take care of on the Server Stream Game File! They are sweet as can be and are the most gentle little beans I could ever hope for. Just like Izumi!

#lollipopsandgunshots #Breakfast in Space || OOC

[lifeofkaze]

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

***

Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. “Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

 *

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.  

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

*

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that  had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

  Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

#harry potter #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #L writes #by request

[thewildwaffle]

Allergies

Requested by mytasteinmusic on Ao3

The humans were throwing food. Why? Well, Kahpi sighed, it was anyone’s guess really. For whatever reason, they were making some sort of game out of it. One human would grab a small piece of food and toss it high up into the air and another human would attempt to catch it in their mouths and eat it. For the cleaning team’s sake, she was glad all the foods that were being thrown seemed to be fairly self-contained and held together well even after being thrown. The foods in question started out as colorful candies the humans had brought along with them from Earth. They had been searched and scanned for possible allergens and dangers they could pose to other races that would be on the ship. Kahpi, as head Food Safety Inspector, had overseen the process herself. Some human food could, after all, cause anything from slight to severe damage and trauma to digestive and respiratory tracts of different species that also worked on the ship. This meant that foods that were only safe for human consumption had to be stored and prepared separately from other food supplies, or if they were exceptionally dangerous, banned altogether. The colorful candies being thrown around now, for instance, were safe to be on the ship, but under the multi-colored exteriors was a concoction that contained theobromine and caffeine. The humans called it chocolate. They loved the stuff and used it in a wide array of foods. It was safe for them in modest amounts, and as long as they kept it to themselves, they were allowed to have it. Once the colorful candies were all consumed, and dropped pieces taken care of, the humans moved on to throwing other foods. Pretty much whatever they had in their meal: diced fruit, ripped bits of bread crusts, chunks of vegetables, etc.

Kahpi kept her eyes on their antics as she also made her rounds in the ship’s cafeteria. As boisterous as they could be, their games were no reason for her to fall behind in her own duties. It was, as the saying goes, not her spilled bucket of eesaling to guard. If they wanted to goof off on their own time, that wasn’t her business. As long as it didn’t cause harm to anyone else. Usually by sharing their food with other races without clearance or supervision, they were fine. In any case, it seemed that their food throwing gag was starting to die down. They returned to eating their meals normally, laughing and joking around loudly with each other as was the norm. Kahpi was thankful that few of the crewmembers that regularly spent their time with the humans were not of races that could boast similar skill of great aim and power while throwing. That would help deter others to pick up the food-throwing in the future. Just as Kahpi was wrapping up and about to leave, she overheard a disturbance from the humans. They all started speaking or shouting at once. “Dude! What the- what’s happening to your face?” “Oh my gosh!“ "What’s going on? I think I’m going to throw up!” “Carlton, you’re breaking out!” Kahpi looked over to the humans were now starting to rise from their seats, onsets of panic starting to creep into their body language. “Are you allergic to something?” “I don’t think so?” “What is it? What have you eaten?” “I don’t know, I’ve never had allergies before!” “Oh frewan, some of the m&ms had peanuts! Are you allergic to nuts?” “I don’t know! I used to eat peanut butter all the time as a kid!” “Could it be the nuts?” “I don’t know, I don’t know what else it could have been!” “Chris, you have allergies, right? What do we do?!” Alarmed by the humans’ reaction, Kahpi, as well as several others that were in the cafeteria, approached cautiously to see if any aid could be given. Whatever could spook a group of humans so badly must be dealt with quickly and conclusively. As she approached, one of the humans, Chris, ran off and disappeared down a nearby corridor. She paused. Was he fleeing? And if so, what from? Should she flee as well? The other humans weren’t running, at least not yet. Instead, they were gathering around Human Carlton, who, now that Kahpi had gotten closer and could see more clearly, did not look like he was well. His skin, usually the color of a richly tanned deygbah hide, looked splotchy and red. His eyes were unusually watery and swollen. In fact, everything about him was starting to look just a little bit swollen in parts. Kahpi’s second stomach dropped. Carlton was going to die! “Come on guys, back up a bit, give him some room!” Human Macy, the newest human to the crew, had everyone shuffle back so Carlton could lie down. Kahpi was just about to bolt down one of the corridors nearby that she knew would lead her to the med bay, in her panic forgetting that she had her comm device, when Chris returned from where he’d run off to, carrying a short cylindrical container tightly in his fist. Everyone parted in the small gathering crowd to let him in. He slid on his knees and stopped right next to Carlton who was now lying on his back. With a pull at the wider, blue-colored end, Chris plunged the device into his companion’s thigh. Kahpi could hear a small click and Chris held the device firmly in place for a few tiks. As he pulled the device away, Chris looked up and his eyes met with Kahpi’s. “Get a medic here now,” He said calmly but with an intensity that snapped Kaphi out of her trance. Within a few moortiks, Medics Jeebarul and Minti were loading Carlton onto a stretcher and taking him back to the med bay, Chris and Kahpi were allowed to follow. Later, after a discussion with the humans, medics, and the captain, Kahpi learned that it was indeed a food allergy that had caused this whole mess. The colorful candies that had been okayed for human consumption were to blame, particularly the ones that contained an Earth food called “peanuts.” Alarmed at the news, Kahpi pulled up the files she had access to on the humans. Compared to other species on the ship, and throughout the entire galaxy for that matter, humans had a relatively short list of known allergens. Of the humans on the ship, her records only stated that Humans Chris and Ricardo had allergies. Shellfish and animal dander, respectively. Worried that she had failed in her duty of food safety, she scanned Carlton’s files over and over. “I don’t understand,” her voice trembled slightly as the captain frowned at her, “There’s nothing here. No known allergens.” The captain’s fins pulled back tightly against his face. “Then what happened? What was all that?” Chris, who had returned from helping the medics get Carlton settled, responded, “We’re pretty sure it was the peanuts. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” “But my records-” “Say that he doesn’t have a peanut allergy, yeah,” Chris interrupted, “but that just means he hasn’t been tested for it. He’s had no need to. He didn’t know. He didn’t use to be allergic to peanuts, but now as an adult, he is. Somehow, he hasn’t eaten anything with peanuts or peanut oil or whatever for years, so unluckily, he had no idea he was allergic.” He paused. “Or maybe it was lucky? I mean, we had an epipen on hand and he’s okay now, and now he knows so… I guess it was kind of lucky?” “What do you mean he wasn’t allergic before?” Kahpi sputtered. “That doesn’t make sense! How is he allergic now?” Chris shrugged. “It happens sometimes. You can develop an allergy to something later in life that used to be okay. No one really knows why.” Both Kahpi and the captain stared at him for a moment. The captain was the first to regain composure. “Well, I suppose it was fortunate that the medics had a supply of these… ‘epi-pens’ stocked.” He hesitated a moment in thought and then nodded to the cylinder that was still in Chris’ hand. “I suppose we better request more of those, just in case. What exactly do they do?” Chris lifted the ‘epipen’ up for better observation. “It’s got a dose of epinephrine in it. It’s adrenaline, so it constricts blood vessels and speeds up the heart so blood pressure rises and it helps relax muscles in your airway so you can breathe again.” They both stared at him. After an uncomfortable silence, Chris added, “It’s not very fun. But it keeps you alive until doctors can help.” The captain had a few more questions, both for Chris and for the medics when they came back out. All the while, Kahpi had time to try to ponder on and digest all the new information and implications this would bring to her job. Allergens were a thing among many species, yes. That’s why she had the job she had. However, few, if any that she could think of right now, had allergies that were caused by foods FROM THEIR OWN PLANET OF ORIGIN! Not only that, but some allergens were safe to eat for one human, but not another?! Where is the reason for that? What evolutionary purpose could that possibly serve for a species? Or was it just some weird fluke, one of so so many, that humans just came with? She buried her face in her hands. Well, this whole thing was going to throw a bit more complications to her job now. Apparently even human food wasn’t always safe for humans. Go. Flargin’. Figure.

#humans are weird #i learned so much about epipens #allergies are weird though #humans are space orcs #aliens #space #epipens #allergies #writeblr #original writing

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt.5)

Genre: hybrid au, polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok,

Summary: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband, but things start to change for the better when your husband adopts a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon.

Tags: hurt/comfort, panic attacks, past abuse, food-related anxiety, Post-traumatic stress disorder, low self-worth, bonding over trauma, Jimin has self-esteem issues, internalized victim-blaming, mute characters, scent-marking, brief gore, but don't be fooled- this is equal parts angst and fluff

W/c: 13k

Song Rec: Talos - to each his own

SERIES MASTERLIST (5/10 parts complete) 

A brief interlude on hybrids pack behaviors, romantic attachment between hybrids, hybrid polyamory:  

Though pack forming behavior is the strongest in canine type hybrids- pack behavior (also known as grouping behavior) is seen in every species of hybrid. It doesn’t seem that species has much of an influence on which hybrids will choose to form a pack either- as interspecies groups are incredibly common accounting for around 50% of all hybrid packs.

Though polyamorous behavior might seem strange to human owners; to hybrids, it’s a natural extension of the pack dynamic. It’s what keeps pack bonds strong and reinforces existing dominance structures within the group. That doesn’t mean that love between hybrids within a pack is any different than the love that hybrids might have with their owners or love between humans.

Packs that are decided in juvenile periods of development more mobile and eventually break apart as hybrids age, and then re-solidify in adulthood. In many cases, hybrids without packs tend to be better adoptees as removal of one or more hybrids from a pack can result in many of the same markers associated with removing an imprinted hybrid from it’s imprintee. for that reason, the modal age from 16-22 is the best age to adopt hybrids.

Though one might assume that because of imprinting- that humans would exempt from being apart of hybrid social structure; this is untrue. humans usually seem to be on the more alpha side of the dominance structure, however evidence of this is anecdotal at best and will further statistical significant results in order to be proven.

When packs are settling and a new member is being admitted, this can often result in a period of turmoil in the group dynamic where stereotypically alpha members may act more submissive, or vise versa, where the new pack member is being admitted into the social structure and dominance is questioned.

- Yoongi tilts his head at your words staring Jimin down, before he juts his chin out at him, glancing back at you. “Oh I forgot! you probably haven’t been introduced. Yoongi this is Jimin, Jimin this is Yoongi. If you haven’t guessed Yoongi is a snake hybrid- one of the very few of his kind.”

- Jimin tries to recoup some of his politeness and struggles to smile at the hybrid; Jimin holds his hand out for Yoongi to shake, “it’s nice to meet you.” Yoongi stares at Jimin’s hand for a moment and makes no move to take it. It hangs there for a palpably awkward moment before you grip Jimin’s hand and pull it down to hang in between the two of you. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, not letting go of it.

- Jimin feels flustered as Yoongi lifts the bag of gardening equipment that Jimin had missed by his side and gestures towards a field. You must have some sort of established language because you answer his question. “Yes, we will be doing the veggie garden today Yoon,” Yoongi makes a huffing noise in agreement, and heads down the path. You tug Jimin after him.  

- Jimin is perplexed at the lingering silence, even as they reach the far vegetable garden (and Jimin realizes you haven’t let go of his hand with a flush and makes to detangle it or risk feeling like a creep). You’re not trying to feed the whole of the farm with the produce, but that’s certainly an eventual goal of yours. 

- It’s large, probably 30 by 50 feet at the very least. You have rows of tomatoes, potatos, carrots, and a half plot of butternut squash and tiny watermelons nothing more that flowers. You start to instruct Jimin on how to tie up The tomato’s that have started to sag with the rain and their continuing growth away from their circular cages. Instructing Jimin how to do the same with the green twine.

- “Gardening is easy,” you tell Jimin, “You have to have some patience, nothing grows overnight.”

- The smell of the wet earth seems to lul the three of you into a hazy silence, He purses his lips, brain running full of information before you turn to him, “got any questions?” 

- he has a lot, so many, they spill out. “How many different types of plants do you try to grow? Which one is your favorite? Do you grow any flowers or do you only have your garden for those? What about like seasonings and stuff? those are plants right?” 

- Jimin asks a lot of questions, but you seem happy to answer them. Especially once you start harvesting the tomatoes. “You mean you’ve never had one fresh?” Jimin shakes his head “no, most of the food I ate was like, chips and other dried stuff- if he ever bothered to feed me at all”  Behind you Yoongi snips through some twine angrily, the older hybrid huffs, shaking his head at that, but still dosent say anything. 

- It’s the most communicative that he’s been the whole day, but his displeasure at that is clear. Yours too, Jimin hadn’t even realized he’d said something concerning until he hears your dismayed noise and looks up from what he’s doing to see your jaw tight, that familiar anger in your eyes.

- Before he starts to feel like he’s done something wrong, messed up another job just like he’d done with all the others, you smooth away his worry. “Here, you can try one if you want” you hand him a half dozen tomatoes that are so dark they’re almost purple, then add a few more for good measure until they’re almost spilling out of Jimin’s hands. They’re still warm from the sun Jimin can tell, you give him an encouraging nod “go on- they’re sweet I promise”  he slowly lifts one to his lips and bites down. 

- The tangy fruitfulness explodes on his tongue- He actually yips, his floppy ears lifting up in his sun hat and his tail wagging so quickly you think he might just take off. By the time he’s done with the first, he’s already reaching for the second, and then looking at the other unripened ones around them hungrily. 

- You and Yoongi laugh, though for Yoongi it’s only the twitch of his shoulders and a strange hissing sound as he opens his mouth, gums on display as well as his slightly elongated incisors (and they look sharp, Jimin feels ghoosebumps erupt on his arms). Jimin shyly hides his blush under the brim of his sunhat. “They’re so good! I didn’t think they’d be so tasty- it doesn’t taste anything like ketchup at all!” 

- You wince when you think that he’s never had anything other than ketchup to compare what a real tomato tastes like. You and Jimin lapse into a comfortable companionable silence and you don’t say anything when Jimin sneaks a cherry tomato here and there. Though you do hide your smile when he makes a sound of disgust when he decides to try a green one after he’s eaten all of the ripe ones in his area. You catch his cheeks puffed up more than once when you turn to ask him to do something, and your heart melts a little at his chubby cheeks. 

- When Yoongi leaves soon after to grab some fresh seedlings for the herb garden you’re quick to explain to Jimin about Yoongi. You want to make sure Jimin is comfortable, but part of the reason why you’d asked him to help in the gardens in the first place is because of how genuinely friendly Jimin is, and how closed off Yoongi is from the rest of the hybrids at the farm. 

- Yoongi is the only other hybrid besides Namjoon that stays in the main house with you. You explain to Jimin that he has issues regulating his internal body temperature and need a heater and several heated blankets even in the summer. “Some of the others see this as preferential treatment- when really it’s just what he needs, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t talk to any of them.”  

- “Does he talk at all?” Jimin asks, just as his ears start to pick up on returning footsteps of Yoongi back over the field. “Not that I’ve heard” your whisper hushes when Yoongi comes close with the 12 packs of herbs, gestures to Jimin to follow him. 

- Jimin’s heard more than one of the teenage hybrids bemoaning the lumps in their mattresses and their envious rants of how comfortable the beds in the big house are. (Apparently, there’s a closed-off second apartment suite in the side part of the house where the hybrids are allowed to spend their heats when they have them, though you’re working on fixing up what once a stable house to make a more private place for that) 

- Jimin thinks that the other hybrid obviously hasn’t spent enough of his life sleeping on the floor because Jimin’s bottom bunk below Taehyung’s is more than comfortable enough. But he keeps that particular opinion to himself. 

- He’s also sensed how conversation comes to a halt whenever the snake hybrid comes near for the lunch line or to get a tool from the shed or get Namjoon for something (Namjoon always ends up supervising the more technical chores, having a knack for mechanics and putting things together, like the soaker hose system that will enable some of the vegetables to get more consistent watering as the summer tugs on). Jimin dosent know how he didn’t notice the hybrid before now, but he must have been there the first few days, Jimin was probably just too overwhelmed. 

- Even Taehyung seems to quiet down in the Yoongi’s presence, whenever he comes to visit Jimin on his break in the gardens or brings them watermelon from the big house for a snack (though when Yoongi hungrily scarfs down a few pieces Jimin does see a small smile play at the edge of Taehyung’s mouth)

- Jimin never catches any sort of aggressive behavior or meanness from Yoongi beyond a roll of his eyes at those who quiet when he walks by, turning to Jimin so that he can see. 

- Jimin decides after the second day that he dosent mind yoongi at all. his presence is comforting even next to Jimin in the dirt, help you dig holes for sprouts and seeds. Jimin holding the latter when Yoongi goes up to check on one of the peach trees (you have a full orchard tucked back into the side of the property- accessible only by walking through the woods and Jimin can’t wait for summer when the fruit is ready if fresh peaches taste anything like the canned kind that Jimin is used to- he thinks he’ll like them). 

- But Jimin does see Yoongi’s shoulders tense and his hands tighten a little at times, especially when he sees the other hybrids engaging in leisurely time. Jimin sees Yoongi’s yearning look at the dog hybrids throwing a Frisbee in the empty field between the barn and the main house when they call for Jimin to join, or the cat hybrids grooming each other in the shade all cuddled up or the pair of tiger hybrids stretched out nuzzling into the grasses and flowers.  

- Jimin figures the hybrid must be lonely, and he can’t blame him, being surrounded by a community like this and somehow set apart from it doesn’t sound nice at all. Sometimes Jimin wants to reach out and tug a stick out of the elders hair- but even you seem to be careful not to be physically affectionate with the snake hybrid, and Jimin has seen you scratch the ears or hug just about every hybrid that lives at the farm. 

- Jimin doesn’t realize Yoongi’s caginess might be for a deeper reason until Jimin accidentally touches him.

-  It’s a hot day and you’ve just gone inside to get all three of you some sweet tea from the pitcher, and He swears he was just asking for a shovel. Jimin had accidentally touched his arm. His fingers ghosting over the line of dark scales gently. And before jimin had realized his misstep- Yoongi had started shaking so violently. 

- His hands clenched and his shoulders quivering- shivering. Looking strange in the heat of midday and the too-bright slant of the noon sun. Jimin has seen Yoongi shiver in the slightest breeze before, but this, this is so much more than that. And it’s hot, but Yoongi doesn’t look like he’s sweating at all which almost seems more dangerous. 

- “Hyung? Are you okay? Hyung?” he gets nothing in response- not a small shake of his head or eye contact, just Yoongi’s unfocused gaze, little huffs of breath coming out from his clenched teeth.  

- Jimin didn’t think- just ran to get Namjoon, working in the field closest to them, almost falling after he heaves himself over the fence. Namjoon is already running to meet him when he’d heard the younger shouting his name. Looking panicked- Jimin can barely get the words out, “it’s Yoongi he’s- I think he’s having a panic attack or going into shock or-”

- “Take me to him Jimin,” Namjoon says dropping his shovel and easily keeping pace with Jimin as they dash back to the vegetable garden. Namjoon steadying Jimin with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt when his foot hits a divot in the ground and he almost trips.

-  They find Yoongi in the same spot, still quivering like a willow in a thunderstorm. At the sound of his name coming from Namjoon’s lips, Yoongi sharply looks up, his eyes focusing after a moment before they go hazy again and he starts to cry in Ernest. 

- Namjoon had quietly led Yoongi back inside the house, you set the pitcher on the table hard enough that the dark tea spills over the side when you see Yoongi and namjoon in the doorway, the elder hybrid sagging when he sees you, his knees weak. You say his name, and Yoongi’s eyes focus again, You don’t touch Yoongi. You’re very clear and careful with your intent grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve before you tug him, speaking in a low voice and guiding him up to the second floor and back to his room- probably the direction of the shower to cool off.  

- Namjoon puts a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, smoothing it over the back of his neck. “Jimin- hey pup- it’s fine” Jimin looks up at Namjoon, panicked and imploring, tears in his own eyes and adrenaline in his system for the first time in weeks. Fuck- he’d forgotten how terrible it felt to be afraid “I didn’t mean to trigger him I swear-“ 

- “Jimin- it’s okay, Yoongi will be fine he just probably needs to sleep and to cool down a little, it probably wasn’t even your fault- we should have known this would happen on such a hot day.”

- Namjoon’s voice is honeyed and soft, expression torn as he looks down at Jimin from the upper step. “This just happens to him Jimin, it’s not your fault.” Namjoon reaches up to thumb away a tear on Jimin's cheek that he hadn’t realized he’d let out. 

- it shocks him almost more than the sudden affection does. Enough that he lets out a low whine. Not knowing what to do with his hands until they close around the hem of namjoon’s flannel, jerking the larger hybrid towards Jimin, making his pine scent settle over Jimin like a comforting blanket - strong  and alpha and everything Jimin wants to press himself into-

- A  cat hybrid bustles through the entryway carrying a crate full of something- headed for the basement refrigerators, and Namjoon straightens, his mask of careful control back in place- (like it always does, Jimin thinks a little sourly) as Jimin steps away and shakes off. Jimin wonders if he had dreamed up the brief heavy look in his face or if it had never been there at all. 

- Both of them hear the sound of you upstairs, lingering “Do you want me to stay?” a pause, and then you continue, “okay, I’ll come to check on you later- don’t turn the shower on too cold or else you’ll go into shock okay Yoon?” 

- If Jimin did know any better (and he certainly knows better) he would have mistaken Namjoon’s look for the same one he gives you when you reappear at the top of the stairs, Namjoon and Jimin spill onto the landing to make room for you. Namjoon’s hand hovers on your arm, tugging you in close for a moment, he can audibly hear the swallow you let out as Namjoon buries his face in your shoulder, tension locked in every muscle of his body until he exhales. 

-  “I’ll help you with the garden for the rest of the day just let me grab my hat Jimin.” You say, smiling at him, but Jimin can see the clenched worry in the set of your mouth. Namjoon gives your retreating form a withering look and he tells Jimin under his breath, “make sure she rests when she gets tired okay?” Namjoon asks, to which Jimin nods, his tail swishing between his legs. “I heard that!” you shout from what must be your and Namjoon’s room. 

- You and Jimin spend the rest of the day watering the cutting garden, and Jimin finds himself asking you what kind of plants these ones are. They’re large and pretty. A little ruffly and torn looking but beautiful none the less with a strong floral scent that sort of reminds him of how you smell. Jimin likes them, especially the light pink ones that are the same color as the blushing sky. 

- “We planted these for a local florist, they’re called peonies, and those are dahlias,” you say, pressing your face into one, the soft petals brushing against your cheeks as you rub your face into one, and Jimin feels his heart flutter like a butterfly. “hang on- you’ve got a little” he brushes away the Pollen on your cheek, “Thanks Minnie” 

- Minnie- the butterflies in his heart flutter harder- probably causeing a tornado  somewhere elce. He hides his blush by turning away to snip off some of the dying leaves with his scissors, trying to slow the thundering pace of his heart. 

- Later that evening when the skin is purple-tinted dark blue, you stand in the cutting garden with Namjoon. Armed with a pair of scissors you snip the most beautiful blooms. Though it will be a few more days till you drive another shipment into town to the florist and you know the few blooms you take won’t be missed. 

- “What are you doing?” Namjoon asks, taking the fist-sized blooms from you as you cut more. “Just making someone happy.” You say, And Namjoon just shakes his head. He knows what you’re talking about and who you're picking them for, And it might be for the puppy who always picks a wild cosmos and puts it on the strap of his sun hat, and looks at the two of you like he wants to be affectionate or dote on, but might not know-how. 

- “He hasn’t had an easy day has he,” Namjoon says, voice low, you shake your head, because no- Jimin hasn’t and you’re only trying to make him a little happier.  He seemed a little too shaken after the incident with Yoongi.  a small act of kindness goes a long way. 

-  He finds them the next day shortly after breakfast, about to change into a  pair of shorts so that he can swim in the stream with Taehyung and some of his other bunkmates before work starts. He finds the pink, white, and purple blooms stuffed into a jam jar on the small side table next to his bed. Blushing as his fingers skim over the edge. Unable to handle the sudden rush of hope and affection because he knows- he knows these must be from you- but he can’t imagine why you’d left them for him to find.  

- “Someones got a secret admierer~” Taehyung teases with a sing song voice from where he changes- almost tripping as he steps into his red swim trunks. Jimin blushes and tries not to let him see. 

- But when he really thinks about it- all he wonders is why. He’d hurt Yoongi yesterday- Someone who seemed special to you. He’d been half-expecting you to punish him at some point- not reward him with these flowers that he gets to look at when he falls asleep. Jimin hugs his pillow to his chest and lets the scent of you (because yes- you do smell like peonies) lul him into sleep. 

- Yoongi appears by the middle of the next day to help Jimin twine up the lines of peas. Yoongi looks no worse for wear, if not for the bags under his eyes that seem a little shadowed, the elder doesn’t look like he’s gotten a wink. 

- (Later- when you break for lunch- you and Jimin find Yoongi asleep underneath the shade of one of the oak trees that border the vegetable garden, His sun hat pulled low over his face to shield his eyes from the sun, and decide it’s better if you let him be for the rest of the day)

- Jimin is so puzzled by the flowers that he asks Yoongi about them. But the elder pauses, and shakes his head, making an X with his hands. And points to the other side of the garden where you stand, whistling a little and watering some of the carrots (the few that have managed to avoid the hungry bellies of the bunny hybrids)

-  Jimin blushes and swats his hands at Yoongi’s small smirk. Saying “oh shut up!” even as Yoongi rolls his eyes, I didn’t say anything he can almost hear the other say.

- Late that night Jimin wonders what Yoongi’s voice sounds like. Then when the days press on, he starts to doubt that he’ll ever find out. But that's fine, they don’t have to talk to be friends. Not when he comes back from a bathroom break with a glass of water and ice for Yoongi only to find that the elder has filled his discarded sunhat to the brim with sweet Tomatoes and green beans. 

- Namjoon makes a brief appearance one day to lug in a few bags of mulch in your private garden. Eyeing Jimin and Yoongi in the field, as Jimin points energetically to a small bright blue bird that seems very interested in some of the pees. neither of them makes to scare the bird off or pounce like a cat hybrid might, merely straightening up to watch, still as to not startle it, as it twitters and is joined by another bright blue bird and then two more.

- they fly away, and Jimin shouts excitedly and hops over to the fence, stoops to pick up a tiny bright blue feather. Jimin chats animatedly to Yoongi, who doesn’t respond but holds it up to the sky to compare the color. Both of them leaning around the light to see it, their straw hats bumping into each other. 

- Jimin must ask Yoongi because he’s dropping the feather into his hand and tilting his head down so that Yoongi can stick the blue feather into Jimin's hat, right in-between an orange snapdragon and a dried pink clover. 

- Namjoon sees the smile tugging at Yoongi’s lips and feels deep satisfaction. Later that night, curled up in your bed with your form propped up on many pillows, Namjoon tells you that you made the right decision to try and push Jimin and Yoongi to be friends. He’s gotten so much better; less twitchy and easy to startle. Both of them have really. They’re good for each other.   

- you fall asleep with a soft smile on your face, cheek pillowed against the soft cream bedspread. Namjoon nuzzles his face into your stomach, resting his cheek below your breasts as you sleep on. You’re so used to his movements next to you that you barely startle. “Things are complicated little one,” he murmurs to the bump. 

- Pressing a kiss to it through your large sleeping shirt (an old one of his) one of namjoon’s large work-roughened hands smoothing over it. “Only a few months now and you’ll be here. I can’t wait to meet you but I’m also scared.”  He shakes a little as he thinks about it- about being a dad, about being parents with you.

- And then he thinks of the others, “We’re both going to need so much help, but I think you’ll like them too.”

- after he showers and before dinner time Jimin helps you and the few other hybrids set up the long table in the largest barn that serves as the dining room for all of the hybrids. As you hand out napkins, More than one of them asks you to get off your feet. 

- He spends dinner on Namjoon’s left side and you on the other side and Yoongi next to you. The hybrid files in after everyone has already started at the line for the buffet of food. Keeping his head ducked and making himself as small as possible. Jimin tries to catch his eyes in hello but doesn’t manage too. 

- - As April fades into may, Jimin starts to feel disconcerting comfortableness slip under his bones, the day’s aren’t exactly the same, but they do become familiar. And it doesn’t comfort him- it just makes Jimin anxious. the planting comes to an end, and the three of you find yourselves coming in earlier especially once it starts to get hotter. Because of the absence of work, Jimin often finds himself wandering the property without a task. 

- The less work there is to do in the gardens, the more he looks to find something that will occupy him- any way to contribute more. He keeps helping during dinner time, to set out the tables and the dishes. And goes back and forth to the house to get anything he might need, unable to sit down until everything is done, even then, he barely gets a few bites in before he’s standing up to help bring the dirty dishes back to the house. 

- You notice, Namjoon does too but you both quickly get dragged off to deal with another call that you’ve gotten to pick up another hybrid. And though Jimin might be hungry when he goes to sleep, it’s worth it to stay up to watch your car lights pull back up the long road to the main house. The anxiety in his chest is abated enough to where he doesn’t feel the hunger.

- That might be a bit of a lie, but really, he was hungry for so many years that he doesn’t mind.

- the presence of a new hybrid makes it worse. It’s the first house call you’d made since Jimin- thought you tell him that it hadn’t really been a house call at all. The locals in a beach town had seen a stray here and there lingering in the lagoon and the ocean waters.

-  The otter hybrid named Hoseok looks like he’s been living on his own for a number of years. He’s Grubby, his hair overgrown but cut short by your hand in your kitchen the next day. And though he leans away from your hand when you try to touch his head, he eventually relaxes under your calm soothing voice, “That’s a good boy, there we go- now you look all clean and pretty!”

- “You think I’m pretty?” the otter hybrid has the Gaul to ask- shy- his eyes wide, and Jimin’s blood wants to boil. He sits with Yoongi at the prep table, helping the cat hybrids de-stem some of the peas and early spring greens that they’d harvested from the garden, and he almost nicks his hand on the knife he’s using. Next to him, Yoongi makes a noise and gestures at him to hand the knife over, he can see the scolding look on his face, “be more careful”

- He’s bubbly and happy after the first day, his little curved ears cooed at by the cat hybrids in the kitchen. Everyone likes Hoseok, Jimin should like Hoseok- but he can’t help but feel a little jealous at how he immediately fits in. He finds his place the first day when Jimin and Namjoon take him to see the sheep and other farm animals, immediately taking an interest in the thick skeen of bright red wool that Seokjin was hanging out to dry,

- The alpaca hybrid turns bright pink when he first sees Hoseok, all the way from his dye stained hands to the tips of his white ears. Jimin can hear the nervousness in the way he says “you can stay as long as you want- all day- it would be nice to have some company” which is funny because seokjin hates company- likes to be left alone with his radio and his pets. 

- “Of course!” the otter says, ears flicking rapidly in happiness in his shiny curly hair, “can you show me how you dye the wool?” Jimin hasn’t ever heard the alpaca hybrid say so many words at once. 

- Jimin wishes he didn’t feel jealous.  

- But he realizes- as one of the cat hybrids comes to asks him which of the herbs in the garden are which, and finds that he does know how to differentiate between the different kinds- At least he’s earned his place here, for a little while he can pretend that he belongs here. He feels a little dizzy like he used too, unsteady with the pounding in his chest- he gets startled over the littlest things, Yoongi standing up too quick next to him or Taehyung’s loud laugh when he walks into the bunkroom.

- The next stage of his anxiety makes him annoyed, his will power worn down by his own inability to relax. He snaps at one of the bunny hybrids after she drops his clothes after they were freshly laundered, ignoring her apology when she drops it.

- He helps the cat hybrids who work in the kitchen making dinner one night and growls when they keep thanking him for staying “Jesus it’s nothing please drop it” and then immediately feels guilty afterward.

- He can’t be this way, Needs to stop being so easily irritable and taciturn. he remembers what his other bunkmates had said on The first day: Namjoon will throw anyone out who makes problems. Jimin dosent want to leave, can’t help the thudding breathlessness that fills his chest when he thinks about the possibility. 

- He knows that Namjoon likes him, it’s the only fact that logically makes sense: that he acts differently around Jimin than the others. But he can’t shake the feeling that he doesn't really know for sure. And once the thought has fit its self into Jimin's head he can’t shake away the lingering feelings of dread- like he’s going to somehow lose his place here and have to leave. 

- Jimin starts to gather snacks here and there, shoving them into the drawer of his side table, just in case so he has some when he gets thrown out of the farm. 

- He even snaps at Yoongi at one point, when he splashes Jimin's feet accidentally with a hose, he grumbles and heads off towards the cutting garden mumbling about something that he needs to check, sequestering himself there for the rest of the day crumpling dried peony leaves in his fist. He misses the pregnant look that Yoongi shoots you- a worry you return.

- You can tell something’s wrong with Jimin- there isn’t any other reason why he’s suddenly started to withdraw from all of you. No longer lingering as much over the flowers and the fruits of your labor in the garden.

- You and Namjoon talk about it one morning after breakfast. Watching where Jimin’s sat on the grassy hill waiting for you and Yoongi to come out. Usually, he’d wait inside or sit on the steps but he hasn’t lately. You watch from the back of the house, looking out the window at him. Namjoons arms clasped around your middle. “Is it bad to assume that he’ll come to us if he wants to talk?” you ask Namjoon.“There's something wrong and I feel like I’ll just make him feel attacked if I ask”

- Namjoon looks conflicted, his fingers playing with yours, lacing and unlacing- your hands are so small His rough callouses feel good against your skin- rough in a nice way. “I’m worried too- but I think- maybe everything here has gotten to be too much for him, you know how overwhelmed he got in the first few days, maybe he just needs distance.” You nod against his shoulder, and though neither of you likes it. You think it’s what Jimin needs.

- It’s not really, so much of what's bound to happen could have been fixed by a little more care on your part- and you’ll never make the same mistake of leaving Jimin alone again.

- Over the next few days, Jimin can feel himself getting more and more annoyed- but he can’t for the life of him figure out why.  He sequesters himself on the other side of the cutting garden trying to find some comfort in the flowers. But the peony rings just won't stay upright, the Dalia stakes too, and the daisy poles, the green garden twine won't stay tight in Jimin’s shaking fingers.

- Nothing feels right, he feels listless,  skin feels itchy laying over the bit of pudge, he’s gotten since he came here and started eating 2 square meals and snacks every day. The tensegrity over his bones, never quite able to stretch, out the hot sun on his back. He feels sharp, his mind teetering on the edge of something he dosent understand. 

- And like an idiot, he tries to ignore it.

- Jimin gets to his breaking point a day later- when you finally turn in from outside. It’s hot, and Jimin feels overheated and sticky with sweat, but he doesn't feel like he can leave yet and take a shower like he so desperately wants.  One of the hybrids gave him a weird look when he was showering mid-day yesterday and he’d like to avoid that again if he can. 

- Most of the hybrids wait until after dinner to shower but Jimin didn’t want to deal with vying for hot water. It was just another thing that made him frustrated. And he’s unsure if he’s more frustrated at the hybrid or at himself for making another social miss-step.

- It hits him there in your kitchen the reason why he’s so frustrated. He’s been here for a little over a month now and still- still he dosent understand the rules, the socal rules are still escaping him just as much the physical ones. In his old home- he got a shower whenever time allowed it- here it was seen as lazy to take one before the day’s work was truly done. 

- There is sweat dripping down his back even as you get both him and Yoongi a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table. “Do you want some watermelon?” Jimin shakes his head, unsure why he’s refusing when hunger aches in his belly.  But someone else might want the watermelon on the table, someone else might need it so Jimin can’t have it- can’t intrude any more than he already does. He might break another fucking rule- it’s better, isn’t it? to just not take up space and resources when he can avoid it. 

- “I could reheat some of the food from this morning if you’d rather have that? or we could make something else before dinner?” you proffer, washing your hands in the sink, running over them with the brush to get the dirt out from under your nails. 

- “No you don’t have to” he answers too quickly. You let the silence sit for a moment before you’re turning to Jimin, And he feels something that feels suspiciously like fear spark and itch underneath his skin. You look a little put-out, biting on your lower lip and for some reason it makes him feel even worse. Which doesn’t make any sense- 

- Why would you be upset that you can’t help a dumb puppy like Jimin? who can barely garden right let alone do anything like a normal fucking non-damaged hybrid could do. He’s not Namjoon, gorgeous tall and capable Namjoon, or even like Yoongi who doesn't even talk but finds himself more needed than even Jimin- the most replicable hybrid on the farm. 

- Why does he feel like he needs to placate you- why don’t you just fucking get it already. You dry your hand on a towel and lean back against the sink. Jimin takes a deep sip of the ice water but finds it makes him feel sick. “What’s wrong?” you proffer gentle and kind.

- “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, he sets the water down too hard and he tries to turn away but you don’t let him, grabbing his wrist. “Jimin,” you say, and he doesn’t know if it’s a plead or a command from you. Maybe if you did command him Jimin would understand better, would know what you wanted better than all of this- all of this assuming that drives him crazy. 

- He rolls his wrist out of your grip, suddenly whirling around, his voice a growl. “Would you just leave it- fuck- I’m fine,”  Jimin can hear dimly, the footsteps above which must be Yoongi. Pausing and then rushing when he hears Jimin’s elevated voice.

- You pause for a moment, picking your words carefully “Jimin, you don’t seem okay- I know something’s been bothering you. Come talk to me about it, tell me about it,” Jimin’s scoff feels acrid in his lungs. “No thanks, don’t want to feel like more of a burden than I already am.”

- You recoil- shocked “Jimin what? you really think that? you’re not at all! please don’t think that, don’t think that you’re a burden! We love you- we care about you- we’re just worried”

- Jimin shakes his head, angry, he’s not even sure why he’s fucking angry,  “You don’t love me” Maybe it’s the frustration, the frustration at all the heavy looks and all the kindness- none of which Jimin knows how to interpret or how to decipher. 

- He dosent know why he said it- even though deep down he’s sure it’s true. He knows you love him. And suddenly the words are spilling out of him along with all of the fear and anxiety and petty anger. Even though deep down Jimin knows that he really doesn’t have anything to be angry about

- “I hate when you walk on eggshells like I’m going to go fucking awol because I can’t fucking adjust to living like this- and then go on treating me with so much affection like I fucking deserve it.” 

- “Jimin- you’re not- we don’t walk on eggshells around you because we want to keep you far away, we do it because we want you to feel comfortable, we don’t want to force anything on you-” 

- “Force me to do what? Force me to help out even if not doing so would make me a freeloader, but if I help too much then- it sets me apart and I just don’t fit in- I’m not even like apart of everything here- when I’m fucking suffocating under what no one says- no one tells me. So what? What can you possibly say that will help? That won’t hurt?”

- For once, you fall silent. Your hands drop, and Jimin feels the guilt swell up, strengthening to a crescendo before he falls falls falls and has nothing but the anger to comfort him, even as tears cloud his vision. 

- “You treat me like this- like I’m fucking worth anything at all and it drives me crazy- I’m not like you- You ask me to confide in you but you wouldn’t fucking understand if I tried- I’m the fucking dregs of what anyone wants and I’m never going to be like the others- I’ve already fallen too far behind and you might as well give up-” 

- “Jimin” its Namjoon at the door, his voice full of caution, not anger- Jimin expects anger but when he looks up all he sees in Namjoon biting his lower lip and looking like he’s about to cry. He reaches out to try and touch him but Jimin flinches back, namjoon freezes, eyes wide and worried. Jimin’s tail drops low, and he pushes past Namjoon without a second thought, leaving you there- you let out a strangled aborted noise in your throat. 

- His beat-up second-hand shoes thud against the wooden steps and the adrenaline is still firing in his system telling him to get away from you. Namjoon calls his name and he breaks out into a run across the field, his ankles almost failing when he stumbles in some of the holes. The tears in his eyes burning as he runs and runs and runs. 

- I’m never going to be like them, I’m too damaged for a life like this, I’m never going to understand how to function because- because I wasn’t raised like them. And it’s too late to learn- it’s too late for the life he wants- even though he never wanted it until they showed him what life could be like.  

- Jimin feels terribly alone. 

- Taehyung finally finds Jimin in the paddocks, deep in the barn with a baby lamb in his lap. It’s little soft pink and white body sitting in Jimin’s lap. Docile at his pets even as the hybrid sniffles, nibbling cutely at his fingers. He puts a hand on Namjoon’s arm, wordlessly telling him to stay behind with Seokjin. “Thanks for getting us Jin” Jimin hears him whisper. Even if he dosent sit up or stand to acknowledge his bunkmate's presence. 

- “That looks a little nasty,” Taehyung says, gesturing at Jimin’s hand. He’d fallen on his mad run, his knuckles grazing the ground. And they’re a little bloody and dirty. It’s not that bad though- Jimin has felt worse pain. 

- “You want to talk about it yet?” 

- “No,” Jimin says too quickly, worried that Taehyung would leave and also- that he would stay. “But I think I should?” The little lamb seems to tire of Jimin’s restless pets and migrates over to Taehyungs lap.  “Where were you before you came here Tae?” in all his weeks at the farm Jimin has never asked Taehyung about his own origin story. But the hybrid dosent look surprised or unwilling. The lamb lets out a little bleat. 

- “You know the story probably, its the same one a lot of us rare breeds have- rich family- bought me as a present for their youngest son- never knew my parents, you know- the classic hybrid trifecta of angst” 

- “I didn’t know my parents either,” they shift to sit back against the wall of the barn. “How did you end up here?” 

- “He wasn’t always violent, but by the time his parents realized it had gotten out of hand, they barely cared he was hurting me only that I bit him back- they didn’t tolerate it and sold me to a circus.” Taehyung gets a faraway look in his eyes. 

-“I refused to perform, and they put me out in the sun without food or water until I agreed, I escaped within the first week, they didn’t realize that the chain was rusty enough for a hybrid to break.” Tae’s softness has always been disarming, but Jimin has also seen the bear hybrid lift 50-pound bags of flour like they weighed nothing. 

- Jimin thinks about his next words carefully, “Do you ever, think it would have been better if you stayed? sometimes I think I deserved it.” Taehyung’s inhale is jagged- “No- Jimin- you shouldn’t- you didn’t deserve what you got I promise you” 

- Jimin looks down and tries not to feel upset because- he feels like he deserved it even if Taehyung is telling him he didn’t. The bear hybrid has never lied to him and maybe, just maybe Jimin didn't- maybe he really hadn’t deserved it.

- “I don’t miss it not really- but- sometimes I think- my body does or maybe my head? It’s hard to explain.” Jimin knows Taehyung is trying. Tae puts his arm around Jimin’s shoulder, his wide hands rubbing up and down Jimin’s spine.  Jimin tucks his face close to his knees and lets Tae touch him. The repetitive pets feel nice. 

- “Why do I feel so scared Tae? Why is everything so hard? why do I feel like I don’t deserve anything good? There are so many things that I don’t understand or don’t know- so many things I never even knew I didn’t know.”

- “I think I might know someone who understands how you’re feeling Minnie.”

- Jimin tries to turn away when Taehyung leads him up to the front porch where you sit with Yoongi, but his hand is strong on the back of Jimin’s neck. Jimin is a little startled to see Yoongi’s hand withdraw from yours quickly. “It’s okay Yoongi, wanna give us a minute?” you say, standing along with him as Jimin rises on the steps, hands clenched by his side. 

- Neither of you talks, Jimin can’t look up to meet your eyes. Taehyung and Yoongi sigh at the same time. “I left some of my beekeeping gear down at the bottom of the hill- if you help me carry it up I’ll give you some honey?” Yoongi scoffs but shows a small smile as Tae turns and starts off with him down the hill. Yoongi sends Jimin a single pitying glance before he does. 

- “I think the squash is probably done cooking by now, Come inside.” The ground floor of the farmhouse is empty but filled with a mild sweet scent. All of the other vegetables are already set out, The carrot, celery, And onion already chopped. It doesn't look like there's enough to feed the whole farm and Jimin is about to ask when you clarify. “I thought it would be better if we all ate together tonight, and this soup is a little specialty of mine.”

- You go to the cellar door and opening it. “Go downstairs, look at the floor- and tell me what you see.” Jimin listens- he’s always been good at following instructions. 

- The cellar smells musty and cold he’s careful not to trip over the extension cords that wind down the stairs, the industrial-sized freezers and refrigerators hum and buzz. There is a barely-there stain in the concrete, rust-colored, fading like someone had tried to wash it away but hadn’t been able to it. 

- “Why is there a bloodstain on your floor?” Jimin says as he comes up the stairs, taking them two at a time. You're just stirring vegetables in the pan. “iI’s mine,” you say, turning the heat down and covering it. Jimin's breath catches. You start fiddling with the other burner, “You’re not the only one who's been through some shit Jimin,” 

-“Who hurt you- when.” Yimin pulls out a place for you at the prep table and you make a noise when you see his bloody hand, “my late husband,” Jimin's eyes hover on your stomach for a second before you flinch, turning away to retrieve the first aid kit from below the sink.

- “Why did he hurt you?” Jimin asks as you pull his hand close to you to rest on the table, carefully and gently dabbing at the broken skin with a cool cloth to clear away the dirt. You’re so gentle that It barely stings. A lock of hair falls in front of your face, and Jimin reaches across the table to tuck it behind your ear. 

- “Honestly? I have no idea. Maybe some people are made rotten- maybe it’s easier to hurt others than hurt- but regardless- I hate him- hated him- But I also loved him at one point. And I think- until Namjoon came- I honestly was dependent on his approval, did you feel dependent on your old owner?”

- “Every day. I don’t miss him- I hate him too- but” Jimin’s hands are shaking when he looks down at them. ou steady them a little- rubbing ointment into the scrapes “I think that I miss understanding everything that was going to happen, knowing what my purpose was.” 

- Your face is shadowed and dark as you keep working- you might not be able to fix Jimin’s mind- but you can help this- the wounds on his body that ache in time with the pulse of his heart. “People like us- we miss abuse because we get dependent on it- because it ran your life and now- you can’t make any choices without-” 

- “Without thinking you’re making the wrong one because choices have consequences and now they don’t- not really- not in the same way. It was like that for you too?” you nod, starting putting bandaids across Jimin’s knuckles. The onions in the pan smell good and start to sizzle. Jimin is almost breathless when he asks- cuz now you’ve helped him put it together he needs to know “How did you get out- how did you learn?” 

-“Namjoon was really patient with me, he gave me what I needed without letting me fall back into the cycle- I’m lucky to have him.”  We’re lucky to have you, he wants to say, he’s never heard of a human who had been through the kind of abuse that hybrids do. But he thinks that maybe it would be wrong to say especially after the words he’d shouted at you. He winces, and you look up from his hand worried you’d hurt him. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier- you didn’t deserve it.” 

- You shrug, “We’ve been expecting you to be okay- and I’m sorry- I should have been more communicative. It’s kinda been a hard transition for you and I should have been there to help more.” 

- “Why does doing what I want not feel free all the time? Why do the choices make me feel like im suffocating?” 

- “Because if you don’t have a choice- you can’t make a wrong move.

- “Did you know- neither Namjoon or I can go into that basement without having a panic attack? There are other things too- like if something comes at his face too quick he growls- even if it's me. The smell of motor oil makes him feel sick and I still have nightmares- We’re still learning. The people we love don’t negate our trauma, but it helps at least when they try to understand it with us.” 

- You set the last bandaid over his nuckles, and he reaches out to grasp at yours and give it a squeeze. You take his hand and lift it to your mouth all of the scrapes covered. You press a kiss to each bandaid and Jimin feels like he’s going to cry for a whole different reason- he feels so undeserving of your care and of your affection, especially after today. 

- “I want to help you Jimin- I care about you too much not to try and make you happy,” Jimin can’t argue- not like he did before when he was too anxious not to perceive anything close to him as an attack. “What do you want? There are no wrong answers” 

-“I want-” before he can answer, Namjoon and Yoongi walk through the door, the younger hybrid prattling to yoongi about the restorations currenly underway at once of the little chicken coops on the sothern edge-  and then he looks back at you- your face a little tired, but truly truly imploring, Jimin feels a strange kind of acrid black hope lurch in his belly. 

- Both of them smiling softly, Namjoon saying something and Yoongi nodding while makeing a so-so motion with his hands. When Namjoon looks up and sees the two of you sat on the kitchen table his tail wags and then falls still, then wags again when he sees both you and Jimin sitting close. Your hands still tightly clasped in each other. 

- “I want to help you cook- can you show me how you make the soup?” Jimin lies. But you don’t catch it, even as you smile at him, and reach your hand up to touch his ears. Pull gentle scratches over them. “That we can definitely do,” you say. Namjoon and Yoongi don’t look upset with Jimin when they come close, Yoongi opening up the pan on the burner and sniffing the air. making a pleased noise in the back of his throat, “squash soup” you clarify and Yoongi smiles.

- Namjoon lifts Jimin’s hand up for inspection, “You okay?” Namjoon asks, his tail hanging low, he doesn't like to see the younger hurt- doesn't like the shyness lingering. “No,” Jimin says quietly, “But I will be,”

- Namjoon pulls him up with a whine, scent-marking along Jimin's shoulder- the other hybrid freezes and then whines when Namjoon’s scent puffs up fanning out to comfort Jimin. The other hybrid is so much larger than him, he makes Jimin feel so small. Namjoon’s hands on both of his shoulders holding him still. Jimin is breathless even after Namjoon pulls away with a faint blush on his cheeks- because Jimin- Jimin smells like Namjoon now.

- Every hybrid is going to know what Namjoon did that when he walks out. And it’s intimate- so intimate- because hybrids the only scent mark each other when they- Jimin's breath catches in his throat- when they belong to the same pack.

- That means Namjoon wants Jimin to belong here. 

- “Can I-” Jimin knows his face is bright red, “Do me?” Namjoon proffers, and though Namjoon has to stoop for Jimin to rub his cheek all over Namjoon he does and looks happy, his dimples poking out. 

- “What do I smell like?” Jimin asks, because honestly- he’s never known- never had another hybrid scent mark him. “Something flowery but more like- citrusy?” Namjoon says, taking in a deep breath at Jimin’s throat that makes a shiver run down his spine.

- Yoongi makes a noise and holds out a lemon- tapping it for a moment and nodding sagely, The visual makes you all giggle. You smile too, “What do I smell like?”

- “Flowers,” Namjoon says instantly, at the same time Jimin says, “Peonies... and cream?” Namjoon blushes- gesturing at your stomach, “that wasn’t there before- yeah” his dimples are so pronounced when he absently rubs a hand over your bump, You can't resist getting up on your tippy-toes to peck them. 

- Jimin learns that even though he had asked you to teach him how to make butternut squash soup, that didn’t mean you were going to let him do any of the work involved. You explain how to do everything sure- but Jimin is banished to sit at the table with namjoon and watch. 

- You and Yoongi cook, dancing around each other in a dance that seems almost choreographed. You must cook together often because Yoongi seems to anticipate your movement, handing you a wooden spoon to stir the vegetables. 

 - Namjoon pulls him back to lean against his chest facing where you cook, Namjoon’s back up against the wall the older hybrid combing his hands through Jimin's hair. Jimin would think it was weird had he not seen countless other hybrids cuddle the same),

-  Yoongi brings Jimin spoonfuls which he presses to Jimin's lips and makes him taste. And Jimin wants to yip when the savory tang of the soup hits his tongue, makes a happy grumble as his eyes flutter closed. “Wait- that's so good- how is it so good?” you look happy at his praise. 

- When it’s finished, the four of you eat out on the porch. Jimin licks his bowl clean, he catches Yoongi watching him, a small satisfied smile on his mouth, he even gets up and gives Jimin seconds. The warm soup fills his belly like liquid comfort. and after so many bowls he ends up listing to the side, nose pressed to the hard part of your shoulder, lulled further to sleep by the rub of your fingers up and down his skull.

 -The kitchen starts to buzz with the noise of dinner preparations but jimin is full and happy, his sun-warmed skin soothed by the dropping temperature. You don't say anything when he starts to cry, his face hidden in your shirt, you just keep running your fingers through his hair scratching his ears. Namjoon and yoongi get up and go upstairs, leaving the two of you to sit side by side. 

- No one hears the words you whisper into Jimin's ear, “You’re not broken beyond repair Minnie, help me- help me fix you- tell me what I can do to make things easier for you.” 

- Jimin's eyes are half-lidded when he opens them, “Can you just- tell me things? Not order me- I’m not asking for you to like- control me- but I think if you just all told me what you want it would be better- take out the guesswork you know?”

- Jimin is so sleepy Namjoon ends up having to carry him back down to the bunks. his strong hands gripping Jimin under his thighs The smaller hybrid on his back, Jimin’s hands around Namjoon's neck. The younger hybrid nuzzling his nose into Namjoon's shoulder to get more of the pine scent on himself. They pause on the steps. The last thing Jimin is aware of is a puff of your scent and soft lips on his hairline.  He wakes up in his bed the next day, his pillows smelling like Namjoon. His bunkmates give him strange looks. 

- The next few days are better, and slowly but surely, the anxiety he’d felt dissipates. You give Jimin little moments to latch onto. the Stability of clearly communicated consent. You say “sit next to me” when dinner comes. Yoongi and Tae across from you at the table. “It makes me feel better the more you eat- I like seeing you full and chubby Minnie” 

- The other hybrids help too- so you must have told them. Namjoon brings Jimin one of his old button-downs, a thick flannel that smells like the other hybrid. “This is too small on me now- so here- it’s yours.”

“Enjoying your courting gifts? Taehyung teases after he sees Jimin wearing it, making the younger splutter, “this? a courting gift?” Tae shrugs, “that's the only reason why he would give you something of his to wear- and both of us know it the alpha of a pack that initiates the courting.” 

- The clearly communicated wants and desires do wonders for his level of comfort. Even Yoongi tries- writes down what he wants on a napkin at dinnertime. I want to help you in your garden today. No offering for Jimin to decline, no wiggling out of it. And slowly, Jimin finds himself becomes more comfortable with his place here. 

- You try to keep the satisfied smile off your face when one day you ask Jimin to come up to the house- cuz it’s just too hot today- and he’s struggling to put together a trellis, “one second, I want to finish this before dinner” and he sits up with a jolt- realizing- he’d actually articulated his own wants for once, he’d asserted his own wants into a conversation instead of just- reacting to everyone else's. 

- Your satisfied smile warms his heart too, you notice the slow change. jimin beginning to heal. “no- I don’t need that it’s okay” “yes you do jimin just take the fancy soap,”

- “Are you sure it’s okay if i-” “Yes it is I promise.”

- The change is slow but one day, He gets to the point where he can say “Tae and I are going to go try and find some berry patches down by the river so I’m going to meet him after we get done with the ground cherries” without fear

- Jimin takes a bucket and he brings back a quart of wild blueberries. You make blueberry muffins with them while Tae, Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin sit at the prep table. Yoongi carefully plucks thorns out of Taehyungs hand as Namjoon tells Jimin that even though Yoongi can cook- you’re the only one in the house that can bake. He even gets a pat on the head for his work and a soft “good boy” from you, and it makes Jimin's heart feel light and blooming like a flower. 

- The afternoons stop making him anxious, and after the first few days, he’s inclined to relax rather than go in search of more work. He goes to visit Taehyung by the bee hutches, hovering a few meters away as Taehyung brings him a spoonful of honey. Or if he dosent feel like doing anything at all- he plays cards with you and Yoongi on your back porch, Namjoon too- if he finds out that you’ve all turned in for the day. 

- Yoongi always wins during the afternoon card games. Whether it is poker or rummy the snake hybrid comes out on top- even when it’s something like Uno, and the elder will just shuffle the cards again for another round and smile a little, more than he does ever. And the three of you will shout and grumble in dismay when he shows his winning hand, round after round until dinner preparations start to pick up enough for someone to need help.  

- One afternoon, you look so sweet in your loose taupe frock, the stretchy material pulled over your belly and your hair free from its fixings spilling over your shoulder Jimin sees the way that Namjoon has his palm placed against your round stomach and can’t stop himself from asking. 

- “Can I?” Jimin asks, and you look up from your hand of cards and place them on the table before taking Jimin’s in yours, and oh, your baby bump is warm and soft and surprisingly more solid then Jimin expected. He wasn’t expecting to immediately feel like he was going to burst into tears, but he feels an incredible well of fondness well up in him. It must have something to do with the way that your peony and cream scent seems to tug at his heart like strings on a marionette. 

- He wants to lean forward and press a kiss there- or nuzzle it and scent mark it the way he knows Namjoon does- but even that feels like too much. You must know what Jimin is wanting as you look down at him, smiling a little even as he blushes. 

-  Little does Jimin know that this is nothing particularly new to you, every time Namjoon gets a whiff of your pregnancy hormones- he’s gotten simultaneously possessive and cloudy eyed with protectiveness. Yoongi seems to be the only one who doesn’t have that reaction. But you bet he’s spared that particular embarrassment by his admittedly more human sense of smell.

- The rest of them don’t notice Jimin’s wave of emotions, or at least they pretend to be interested enough in the third round of hearts that you’ve played this evening. Though Jimin does catch a small smile on Namjoon’s face when Jimin scoots closer. Reluctant to let go now that he’s felt the soft pleasure of feeling your baby bump.

-  The endorphin response alone has his voice husky, he’s a goner the second you lift your hand up and rub his ears, letting out a whine and putting his cards away- much more interested in begging affection off of you now.  

- “How far along are you?” “Around 5 months now I think- nearly 6 now that I think about it.”

- The four of you decide to eat dinner out on the patio instead of joining the others in the barn. The older cat hybrid sees how slumped you are and how you’re near to sleeping on Namjoon’s shoulder, and brings the four of you out dinner plates, much to the thanks of Namjoon and Jimin, Yoongi nods gratefully when she hands over his plate. 

-  By the time Jimin reluctantly so steers his way back towards the barns, the common room lights have finally turned out. A lone fox hybrid sleeps on the couch in the common room, her head tipped back and the light from the tv blue across her face. 

- He goes up to his bunk bed, the other hybrids sleeping soundly around him, perplexed to find his bed disturbed, his pillow gone and his blanket missing from his bed. He figured someone might not have wanted to get up to grab one from the linen closet downstairs, but when he goes down to the ground floor he finds it empty, not uncommon on a cold night like tonight. Jimin’s bare feet are already feeling the brunt of the cold stones, and the cozy but still slightly drafty barn. 

- He goes up and notices that the hybrid that shares the bunk to the left is the one that’s taken his blanket. “Hey give it back” Jimin hisses hushed, fighting with the half-asleep hybrid whose eyes still haven’t opened, he’s clutching the extra warmth to his chest. “I need that to sleep” the dog hybrid on the bunk above them grumble and turn over in his sleep. 

- Jimin puts a hand on his shoulder to really wake him, The hybrid, a wolf hybrid named Minhyung, wakes up with a start, arms already swinging, his foot kicks out at Jimin’s stomach.  The sudden violent reaction tosses him onto the floor with a thump, waking those in the vicinity.

- Jimin tries not to let the stinging feeling invade too much even as his ass goes numb, and he flushes with anger, especially when one of the others whose woken by the brief scramble laughs at Jimin. Minhyung does too, looking barely contrite with half his hair messy and a little bit of drool on his cheek. 

- Minhyung smiles showing his teeth. “Thought you’d be warming up that snake boy by now. Have fun sleeping in the cold.” He says, and turns to his side, ignoring Jimin. Jimin tries not to feel ashamed or rejected or any of the other nasty emotions singing in his chest at the indifference of the other hybrids in his bunk.  

- A glance at Taehyung’s bunk, the only one who might come to his aid, confirms both that the bear hybrid was the only one without an extra blanket and is also still asleep. 

- Jimin doesn’t even stop to think, he just knows that he doesn’t want to stay here on the bed, feeling cold and alone and like everyone in that room hates him. Feeling his head spinning, and his heart thudding erratically, he leaves the bunkroom and the barn and stops just outside. The cold is worse here and he tugs his fluffy cardigan around his shoulders before he starts walking slowly up the hill to the main house. 

- The lights on the ground floor are all but turned off, but the glowing he can see in the living space foretells that of a television. He deliberates on the front porch for a second, wondering If he should even bother, momentarily worried that you’ll keep him out in the cold too. 

-But he shivers and hopes beyond hope that you won't. And when he knocks on the door it's only a few seconds before he can hear someone get up. It’s not nearly enough time for him to think of a good excuse as to why he can’t sleep in his own bunk. 

- It’s Yoongi that answers, bundled up in a pair of very warm flannel pajamas and a sweater, his hair curling against the nape of his neck from a fresh shower. The bright green tartan does wonders for Yoongi’s scales, making the ones on the back of his neck look brilliant even in the half-light of the porch. He’s a little wide-eyed and taken aback by Jimin’s presence, but he waits for Jimin to speak.

- “The others- they-” Jimin’s words fail him at the worse time, throat closing off into a whine, his ears pressed into his skull. “Is it okay if I sleep up here tonight?” Yoongi’s eyes are dark and half-lidded, but he steps aside instantly nonetheless. Jimin slips into the warmth of the house closing the door behind him.  

- There is an old fashion black and white movie playing on the tv but Yoongi clicks it off and goes into the ground floor bathroom. Making a noise for Jimin to follow, he rummages around in a drawer and pulls out a toothbrush and a washcloth for Jimin to use to wash his face and leaves Jimin to wash up in peace. And comes back a few minutes later lugging a blanket with too many cords to seem logical.  

- Jimin realizes what it is when Yoongi fluffs it out on the couch and a wave of Yoongi’s scent- like the crackle of heat and something that kind of smells a lot like marshmallows fluffs towards him- Yoongi’s scent. Taehyung’s words about courting gifts suddenly ring in his ears.  

- “Yoongi, I can’t take one of your heated blankets on the coldest night of the season” Jimin protests. But Yoongi just shakes his head, putting his hand on his chest while keeping eye contact with Jimin meaningfully, then pushing his palm to the floor. jimin takes it to mean “I don’t need it.” 

- Yoongi ignores Jimin’s protests and stoops to plug it into a surge protector anyway. The couch, which already has a pillow on it, looks even more inviting now.  

- Jimin feels like a broken record uttering thank you after thank you even as Yoongi heads towards the landing, and up to where his room must be in the house, after nodding what must have been a goodnight at Jimin. 

- The couch is so comfortable that jimin gets cozy quickly (even if it is a little squishy). His heart feels a little heavy with the events of the day. He’s sure you’ll ask in the morning, and probably Namjoon too. He falls asleep easily, sighing into the warmth of the blanket as it heats up. 

- A story above, in the master bathroom, you’re pressing giggles and kisses into Namjoon’s bare chest. “Oh my god - we have to sleep it’s so late,” you already can tell waking up tomorrow at the crack of dawn is going to be brutal, but you can’t help it, Namjoon looks so soft and fluffy. He’s punch drunk and smiley with his hair ruffled at the back from the countless times you’ve tugged on it or ran your fingers through it in the past few hours.

-  He nuzzles into your shoulder and hums. A strong arm clung over your waist that draws circles over the spot where your baby bump meets your hip. He pulls you snug against him, always closer- as close as he can physically get you. 

- Namjoon whines, he never wants to sleep when it’s you in his bed- or more correctly- him in yours. Though it’s been months since he even thought about sleeping in his old room downstairs, and months since it was unoccupied by Yoongi. 

- The only good thing about going to sleep is that he gets to wake up to you. The thought always has him going to sleep like a kid on Christmas, almost too excited to sleep at all. What a dichotomy love was, making you soothed and calm and at the same time too elated to dream at all.

- You try to get out of bed, prompting immediate grabby hands and a low whine that tapers off into a growl from his throat. You're immune to his display of possessiveness, and it only makes him melt into the sheets further. “Oh you big puppy,” you tease happily in response to his whines, Tying your fluffy pink robe around your waist concealing your nakedness as you head downstairs for a glass of water and leave the door open.

- Namjoon whines again with no one to hear and burrows into the warmth you left, getting impatient pretty quickly, kicking his feet a little when he presses his nose to your pillow and gets a particularly strong wif of your scent. his tail thwacking against the covers. 

- The ground floor is dark, almost dark enough that you don’t see Jimin asleep on your couch. The blanket all but making him blend in. You only see him when you are already on the way back. 

- You’re not exactly surprised to see him asleep on your couch as he hadn’t exactly looked like he wanted to leave earlier but there is something about the tense pull of his eyebrows that tell you there must be some deeper reason why he’s here. Oh well, you’ll find out in the morning, for now, you’ll let him sleep. 

- The whining behind you and the sheer familiarity for Namjoon’s body is the thing alone that keeps you from being startled when his arms snake around your waist to rest on your baby bump. Namjoon stills for a second when he sees the figure on the couch. Jimin’s blonde curls puffed against the pillow, his thick lips pouting in his sleep. 

- “Yoongi must have let him in.” Namjoon murmurs over your shoulder into your ear, hushed so as to not wake him, you make a noise in the back of your throat in agreement taking in the delicacy’s of Jimin’s face as he sleeps, unable to resist running the back of your hand softly over the top of his cheekbones. 

- They’re so much fuller than they used to be you notice appreciatively. Brushing over his puckered lips, finally pushing back the blonde curls at the top of his head and running through his hair a little. Jimin tilts his face up, his cheeks flushed, Plush lips parting in a sigh as he chases your hand, needy for affection even in sleep. His ears twitching in the direction of your movement. 

-  “He’s so cute” you murmur. Namjoon stifles his laugh in your shoulders. “Yes” he agrees, his hands tugging on your waist, “now stop ogling the pretty pup and come to bed with me.” You grumble something like “you’re ogling too” but let Namjoon pull you back upstairs.  

- On the couch, Jimin sleepily opens his eyes to the darkroom, hearing the thud of your retreating footsteps on the creaking steps.  unsure of what he just heard was a dream or reality, the tide of sleep quickly pulling him down. The memory of the moment to be lost in his dreams by the next morning.  

- When the four of you wake in the morning, it’s too a muffled shriek on your front doorstep. One moment namjoon is asleep curled around you and the next he’s vaulting down the stairs in only his pajama bottoms. Hauling opens the front door, splattering blood everywhere before Jimin can do more than stir and rub at his eyes. 

- “Jesus what the fuck!” Jimin cries, rushing to the door while Namjoon blinks, Still half asleep and barely awake. One of the cat hybrids that usually come to cook has fallen back against the steps, disgust roiling in her face, hand against her heart in shock. “I promise it wasn’t me I just- I just was gonna get breakfast early and I came up and it was already there”  

- Namjoon turns to the door, touching his face where the blood sticks smearing it against his cheek. Yoongi skitters down the stairs after Namjoon, socked feet sliding on the floor. 

- “Fuck-” Namjoon growls out- turning to Yoongi, “don’t- Yoongi you shouldn’t-”  Yoongi makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, goes pail,  and Jimin makes the split-second decision, turning to him to block his view and asking him to go get a rag from the bathroom to wipe the blood off of Namjoon’s face. Anything to get him away from this. 

- You're standing bleary-eyed at the top of the stairs in your Pajamas, “What is it Joon? what's wrong?”  None of them knows how to say it, or what to say. 

- Its blood has dripped down the blue chipped paint of the door and pooled on the porch beneath- its scales black and pearly just like Yoongi’s. 

- On your front door, a dead snake hangs, gutted. It’s head nailed to the wood. 

My Kofi

#bts jimin fic #bts #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts hybrid fic #bts poly fic #bts hybrid fanfiction #bts polyamory au #yoonminjoon x reader #taekook #2seok fic #bangtan sonyeodan #bts yoongi fic #jimin fic #yoongi fic #hybrid kim namjoon #puppy! namjoon #yoonminjoon #minjoon #yoonmin #namgi #bts x reader #kim namjoon #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok

[evolutionsvoid]

For many sapient species, space is the ultimate challenge. The final goal, to escape the cradle of your birth and roam amongst the stars. It takes many things to reach the heavens, and all who have achieved it attest to the sacrifices needed to make such a thing reality. Intelligence, technology and time are a few of the many ingredients necessary to make it all possible. One merely needs to look around at the myriad of species that make up the Galactic Council to see what it takes to claim the stars. Ships of alloy, engines of light and minds of hope. When one at last achieves this great feat, they may believe themselves to be masters of this reality, that there is no thing they cannot conquer. If one makes the heavens their domain, and ride upon ships of light and energy, are they not gods? Roam the galaxy enough, though, and one will find an answer to that question. The void of space is a realm that can only be reached by technology and intuition, but those are not the forces that truly rule it. Even in the endless vacuum, chaos and nature still remain, and sometimes they carry a really big rock and a nasty disposition. Any space-farer knows that an asteroid field is a bad place to be. Despite all the shields and reinforced hulls, a big chunk of space rock can cripple any ship. Some have succeeded in finding ways to make these regions safer for travel, while ever-growing technology works to resist nature's minefield. However, there are some of these territories that no one dares to touch, zones that many navigational computers refuse to even skim past. In these places, it is not the asteroids people fear, but the things that live within them. Those who have traveled amongst the stars will tell you of the Oon'Grok, both out of amusement and fear. Massive space-dwelling creatures that call the asteroid fields home, and who make these regions absolutely inhospitable for any ship or station. The one thing you will be told but will never really be able to understand is their size. Only by seeing one with your own eyes will you truly fathom their mass. They are larger than a Cruiser-class vessel, making fighters and traders look like gnats in comparison. Capital ships are indeed larger than then, but this certainly does not make the Oon'Grok any less intimidating. Though smaller, they can easily grab a Capital ship and knock it off course, or perhaps even tear right through it. To go with their extreme size, the Oon'Grok are incredibly powerful. A part of this comes from their composition, as living in a vacuum requires a heavy duty body. They are harder than stone and steel, capable of shrugging off turret fire from a warship. With a hefty mass and specially designed muscles, they can use zero gravity to their advantage to hurl asteroids or even ships. Their limbs are strong and flexible, with their forelimbs able to split or merge depending on the situation. Each one ends in sturdy claws that allow them to grip and tear. To navigate the void, they have special organs that can emit a force to propel them through space. Their traveling speed is not the fastest, but it does allow them to overtake larger ships that are drifting along. Despite what some may claim, they cannot travel at the speed of light or make jumps. They can only swim along at the speed their organs allow, meaning that it takes them years to traverse distances that starships can do in hours. This is not a real issue for them, because Oon'Grok seem to live for centuries or even longer. Sustenance isn't an issue either, as they are a type of filter feeder. The long "hairy" tendrils that take up their head have been compared to baleen of certain species. The nutrients and energy that flows upon solar winds and drift through the void are caught and consumed in their hairy net. Oon'Grok can also add to their diet by crushing up asteroids and other debris, then catching the dust in their "beards." With a long lifespan, simple diet and impenetrable hide, these beasts are leviathans, and they live up to the name.       What has made the Oon'Grok so famous to the galaxy at large is their hostility towards those who invade their territory. Oon'Grok live in asteroid fields, carving out nests and caves in the biggest chunks they can find. This is where their home and food is, and they are quick to defend it. Oon'Grok live in groups, and they create their colonies by gluing all their caves together in a hand-spun web. From orifices on their limbs, they secrete a bluish gel that quickly hardens when exposed to the vacuum of space. With careful movements, they can create strands of this stuff and use it to stick asteroids together. Humans have compared the resulting structures to a spider's web and a bagworm's case. They bring all their desired rocks together to create a huge clump of caves, which the group will live in. The size and shape of these formations may vary by the family group, as each has their own personal preference. This can even change overtime, as they get bored and decide to do some redecorating. Outsider Oon'Grok may invade their territory, which will lead to a dispute. Another of the group will challenge the invader and a nasty fight will break out. If the intruder loses, they will speed off to another patch of the field to tend its wounds. If they win, the family group will begrudgingly let them stay, with the loser often giving up their cave. These duels can be brutal, but their tough hide ensures that the combatants rarely suffer debilitating injury. An interesting thing to note, though, is that these fights can lead to the Oon'Grok using weapons. Grabbing smaller asteroids and using their special gel, they will actually craft crude clubs and hammers from their surroundings, and use them to batter foes. Primitive as they are, they are incredible powerful when wielded by these leviathans, which many space captains can attest to.

 Fellow Oon'Grok are not the intruders that anger these beasts the most. Such an invader comes along once every couple of decades, so it isn't too big of a deal. The real thing that enrages them is the shiny screaming creatures that dare poke around their territory. It turns out that Oon'Grok communicate through special wavelengths emitted through their bodies, and they have sensitive receptors that allow them to pick these messages up. This wavelength is quite similar to the way most spaceships and stations communicate through the vast expanse of space, and this is where issues arise. To the Oon'Grok, an approaching vessel is an extremely noisy and irritating thing. Due to the vast amounts of technology and communication devices aboard any given ship, they are just constantly expelling these "noises." The sensitive receptors of an Oon'Grok are irritated by these alien signals, and it turns them aggressive almost instantly. They will be quick to smash the noisy insect that bothers them, and they have the ability to do so quite efficiently. A resistant hide means that laser fire is useless, and their bulk makes them an extreme threat. Be it a fighter or a capital ship, the Oon'Grok is perfectly capable of reducing it to floating scrap. Their claws can rip through hulls, and their powerful limbs can snap vessels in two. Even if one is to keep them at bay with a torrent of laser fire, they can win in a long-ranged battle as well. Grabbing small asteroids, they will hurl these rocks at annoying ships and smash them to pieces. While warships have the shield technology to survive an onslaught of lasers and missiles, none of them are designed to withstand the blow of a really big rock. Great Capital ships that could destroy an entire fleet have been turned into mere playthings in the hands of an Oon'Grok. The same clubs they use in territory disputes can also be used against a vessel. A single swing is enough to destroy shields and send the broken ship spiraling into the void. Victory against an angry group of Oon'Grok is impossible, the only option is to retreat while you are in one piece. Some have been successful in repelling an assault, but looking at the amount of losses they take to do so shows that retreat is a way better option. While the wavelengths that communication arrays and technology creates bring misery to the Oon'Grok, their calls are also capable of mingling with a ship's receptors. Those who survive an encounter with the Oon'Grok have noted that their signals act like a mass broadcast that can interfere with comms and receptors. Ships that are hit with these signals have said that their speakers and comms are suddenly flooded with "hoots and bellows." This is not believed to be what Oon'Grok actually sound like, as it is the technology trying to interpret a signal beyond its understanding. Regardless, many survivors warn others that "as soon as your comms start hooting and hollering, charge up the engines and RUN!"       Due to the threat they pose to any space-faring vessel, Oon'Grok territory is restricted and avoided by all travel routes. All traders and travelers know where large colonies of these beasts dwell, and they always ensure their journey stays far away from these forbidden zones. Though normal space travel keeps clear of these territories, these areas are not completely abandoned. Smugglers and criminals know quite well that the law does not enter the lair of the Oon'Grok. Those who are pursued by the authorities may choose to jump into Oon'Grok space and force their foes to turn back. Certain smuggling routes cut right through these areas, as it keeps the law away and cuts down travel time. However, it should be remembered that escaping into these territories is not an easy or flawless solution. Pursuers of these criminals will tend to hang by the edge of these territories to ensure they don't turn around and try to sneak past. This means that the only way out is through, which means avoiding the Oon'Grok. No one knows how many of these smugglers have vanished in these regions, reduced to a scorched smear on a floating hunk of rock. This isn't the only use that the seedier side of the galaxy has for these forbidden zones. Some have found the dire flight through these regions to be quite exhilarating, leading to the formation of several illegal races. Though these events are run by shady organizations, none can deny the amount of gambling and interest it draws in. These races involve dozens of ships, who's goal is to reach the other side of an Oon'Grok infested asteroid field. The rules are few and vague, it is encouraged to come up with creative tactics or dirty tricks to get an edge on the opposition. In these events, the racers will find their opponents to be just as dangerous as the titans. No one will bat an eye if someone takes a cheap shot at another racer or if they bash another competing ship right into the claws of an Oon'Grok. The hosts of these events know full well that many viewers tune in to see the crashes and explosions, so this sabotage and rivalry is quite welcomed. In fact, some events may launch comm satellites into the field prior to the start so that the Oon'Grok are good and agitated before the racers enter. Though these illegal events are quite infamous and widely broadcast, the authorities rarely interfere. While bribes ensure the law stays away from these races, many enforcers claim they wouldn't stop them in the first place. Many will joke that these events do a great job at keeping the peace, as a good amount of scumbags wind up exploding during every race.             Not only has their territory found a use for shadier folk, but others have developed an interest in the Oon'Grok themselves. Researchers interested in developing cultures and early stages of sapience find Oon'Grok to be fascinating. Their use of tools and crude settlements suggest an intelligence, and many wish to see how it grows. Unfortunately, there is not a lot of funding for this area of research, as many expeditions have ended in tragedy. Others look to the substance the Oon'Grok secrete, and wonder how it can be used in space-faring technology. A gel that can harden into sturdy armor when exposed to a vacuum could be quite useful for both suits and ships when it comes to breaches. It has even been suggested using these secretions as a basic foundation when it come to construction in space. This quick and sturdy material would be perfect for creating a simple skeleton that could then be easily built around. However, these musings are yet to be fully realized, as no one has found a way to perfectly replicate the substance. With the aggression of an Oon'Grok, gathering these materials naturally is also out of the question. Some may suggest trying to capture or domesticate one of these titans, but the Galactic Council has made it illegal to own or transport these beasts. Since they show a crude form of sapience, they are given the same protection as any other species of society. It is also illegal to own an Oon'Grok due to the fact that they are incredibly dangerous and can cause a whole lot of problems. These laws fully came into power after the Gigra Shipyards Rampage, which showed the universe how stupid it was to try and control these titans. The culprit of this incident was a wealthy collector who had dreamed of capturing an Oon'Grok. Such a feat would bring much fame, and no doubt such a thing could be easily monetized. Using an obscene amount of resources and tranquilizer, a hired fleet was able to locate a lone Oon'Grok and successfully sedate it. With the titan knocked out, the beast was netted and towed to the nearest shipyard. Due to its immense size and space-lifestyle, the creature could not be brought onto a planet or an outpost. Most space stations were ill-suited for such a cargo, so they chose to use a massive shipyard as their base of operation. There, they could easily finish the job and ensure the Oon'Grok was properly contained. Unfortunately, this decision turned out to be disastrous. Though the titan was fast asleep when it was hauled in, the vast amount of docked ships and their irritating technology proved to be enough to wake it. Pained by the ceaseless noise and electronic signals, the beast awoke and instantly broke free of its restraints. From there it went on an unstoppable rampage through the ship yard, causing obscene amounts of property damage and totaling dozens of ships. The factory arms and forges were ripped to shreds and capital ships were bludgeoned with debris and smaller vessels. After hours of terror, security and on-station war ships were able to push the Oon'Grok into open space, where it fled back to its home. The incident caused the Gigra Shipyards to lose over half of its functionality, and repairs took decades for it to return to its former glory. The collector responsible for the disaster survived the incident, as they had fled the second the beast broke free. However, it seemed that the consequences of their actions had been too much for them to bear. So much property damage and so many ships belonging to numerous governments and black market factions were destroyed due to their ignorance, and they couldn't live with the knowledge. Weeks after the rampage, the collector's body was found floating in the void. So wracked with guilt, they had apparently beaten themselves within an inch of their life, shot themselves in the head with a blaster then airlocked their own corpse. Truly a tragic and totally voluntary way to go.   It should be noted that the Gigra Shipyards Rampage has become quite the famous incident on a galactic scale. Not only did it fortify the laws around the Oon'Grok, but it created the perfect reference for many folk and media outlets whenever a rich idiot caused the usual disaster. It is also a notable incident for enthusiasts in warships and space combat. At the time the rampage occurred, two famous ships were docked at the Gigra Shipyards: the EN Vera'Zun and the IA4 Rela'Kan. These two ships were renown for the roles they played in Skree'lad Insurrection. The two ships were on opposite sides, and both were the heavy hitters of their fleet. Despite the numerous conflicts, the two warships never actually fought each other in direct combat, resulting in lots of speculation years later. For the longest time, enthusiasts and historians would argue over which one would win in a duel. When the rampage occurred, the universe got its answer when the two got caught up in the chaos. The Rela'Kan was declared the winner when the Oon'Grok wielded it like a warclub and smashed the Vera'Zun in half. The Rela'Kan now also sits in the number one slot of "Which 10 Warships Are the Best Melee Weapons." Though the territories of the Oon'Grok have been thoroughly mapped and logged, it is important for any traveler to know that unknown individuals or groups can still exist. Navigational computers only know of the prominent populations, as it is impossible to track every single individual drifting out in space. Those who are driven from the family groups may wander the void in search of a new home, while entire groups may migrate when their territory faces an outside threat. A migration like this only occurs when rare anomalies may pass through the area and scare off the Oon'Grok. One case was when the True Pantheon was first observed, which was when they visited the Caldeon asteroid field. This massive region of asteroids was home to several Oon'Grok groups, but they all fled when one of the Pantheon's members flew into a fit of rage. These displaced groups wound up wandering into new regions and taking refuge near popular trade routes. After several trade fleets were destroyed, an effort was made to push the Oon'Grok back into the Caldeon field now that the Pantheon had departed. Another way that Oon'Grok can show up where they are not expected is through their ways of reproduction. It is believed that Oon'Grok can reproduce on their own, though a mingling with partners can be done to insure genetic diversity. What results are hardened eggs that are sealed with cocoons of their gel secretions. Despite their size and long life, Oon'Grok can reproduce quite frequently and create quite a few eggs each time. Due to space and resources, an Oon'Grok group cannot hatch all the eggs they produce. As a result, only a small fraction of these eggs will hatch at a time while the rest stay dormant. It has been found that these dormant eggs can stay this way for centuries, waiting for some type of signal for them to awaken. Oon'Grok groups may keep a portion of these eggs, but a time will come where they have too much. When this happens, they will attach clusters of them to a chunk of asteroid and use their strength to launch it into the void. The fate of these laden rocks is not guaranteed, but it seems a tiny portion of them eventually wind up passing through suitable habitat. If this happens, the eggs will hatch and the young will take over the area. If the rock is destroyed or sent on a empty path that stretches for centuries, that is no issue. All the Oon'Grok do is spread their seeds into the solar winds and destiny will decide where they shall land.                 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CAVEMEN! IN! SPAAAAAACE! At one point I was thinking about sci-fi universes and how many super intelligent aliens there were in each. Space travel and such is no easy feat, so obviously all these races need to be technologically advance and incredibly sapient. That got me thinking, what if there was a dumb one? What if there were space-faring creatures that were essentially cavemen? Obviously they couldn't get into space with just sticks and stones (and Orks already did that, so I don't want to copy), so I kept playing with the notion. Overtime, it evolved into a species that was already in space to begin with, so no progress or technology needed! Which then lead me to my favorite part of this: what if these space cavemen were incredibly OP? You can have all the fancy lasers and energy shields you want, but a big enough rock will beat it every time. Makes me wish I could draw more aliens, but for whatever reason, whenever I decide to make something a sci-fi alien species I lose all ability to draw the dang thing.

#caveman #alien #space alien #monster #creature #space caveman #art #drawing

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Five

Chapter Five: All My Memories Gather 'Round Her

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

He ruffled her hair.

Again.

It was a mistake letting her hair grow back out, now clocking back in at impressive two inches Jane was growing used to the platinum blonde locks. Sure, there were some off-handed comments, but a stern attitude dissuaded most of the direct jokes. Well, for most, it did. Roy was always an exception when it came to her.

Annoying geezer.

But was it a sense of direction or trust that guided her to follow through his every command? It was true Jane had been wary at first- she had seen first hand what the power of being made a defacto leader could do to someone. Abuse, rape, and murder. Here, at least for the time being, Roy kept his head. Even begrudged the position. Not that he shared it pubically, only mentioning it in passing to her, but she understood the burden all the same. Jane had lived it: rejected it. It was a strange sense of comfort to follow, better that the man leading was becoming a dear...

She couldn't; she had to reject that notion.

"I know you're there."

The whir of the door a dead giveaway when it came to being followed. Jane's hypervigilance had only increased with her time spent outside active combat. Sure, she still found herself battling at least on a biweekly routine, but it was nothing compared to her time on the Normandy. That person spent more time in cover than under covers.

The mousy-haired girl stared up at her, brown eyes hard and unyielding. Hell, this kid was scary.

"Do you need something, Evelyn?"

The girl harrumphed, "what are you doing?"

Leave it to the lady carrying a dying plant around to be the most suspicious thing going on in the compound, "Spectre business."

Evelyn's, not Eva's, glare worsened. Her cheeks and nostrils flaring.

"What are you doing?" Jane replied in the same smarmy tone.

"My job," she returned matter-of-factly, "even if I don't like it, and even if Papa says you are sick."

"What, are you like, three? You don't have a job."

"Seven. And yes I do! Pater gave me one," the kid smirked, sticking out her tongue.

"And what's that? Being precocious?"

"Pre- what?" Evelyn stammered.

"Being a shit," the swear already escaped before it could be altered. Thus, reinstating the belief that children did not belong around her in any capacity.

Her furrowed brow gave way to a secretive smile, "Pater said someone needed to watch you. Seems stupid, but Papa said we all have to do things we don't want to right now."

Of course, Roy would.

"You're weird," the girl stated plainly, "your face is kinda glowy, and you spend a lot of time with those aliens."

Back on Earth, it wasn't hard to forget that First Contact was a meer thirty years ago. Not that it was blame for their attitudes, but most of the humans had a hard time trusting the aliens. It was only made worse when the squadron of Turians joined them, piling them on top of the loud and aggressive Krogan; most of the natives were uncomfortable. Already the Turians and Krogan had old beefs to settle, and the dash of human fear for the Turian species quickly started a lopsided triangle. At least the Krogan adage of 'seek the enemy of your enemy, and you will find a friend' came to the humans and krogan developing a tenuous alliance.

"Those aliens are nothing to be afraid of," Jane chided gently.

The kid neither gave up nor responded, instead following the woman through the hall and into the open atrium. The place had boomed in population, the mall teeming with signs of life that would have echoed its days before the war. Voices, distant music, and the general clatter of movement greeting them from outside the confines of the sealed hallways. Once Jane could walk through here without watching a step, now she dodged other people, weaving through the crowd with ease and speed intended to dislodge her charge.

Evelyn was spry, knocking into the lady as she unexpectedly stopped. She peeked around her, watching as the red Krogan started to cheer loudly. Another alien, smaller and with a grey carapace charged at his elder, the two rather than colliding ended the charge with a weird arm hold. For a moment, the two crests rested against each other, sharing a few soft and private words.

Even weirder was The Recruit, looking over the scene sadly, a hand held over her heart. Her jaw flexed, another sharp and illuminated line flaring vertically up her cheek—another note to add to the log.

"They look so mean," Evelyn complained, unsure why Jane would be watching this sadly. It was frightening, to her they were great brutes that usually ended up destroying something.

"They really aren't," Jane countered softly, a slight crack in her voice, "if one gives you an attitude, a head butt will set them straight."

She did like that this grown-up did not treat her like a child, unlike the rest.

Both of them tensed at the appearance of a green-shelled krogan; the arrival of the male ended the short embrace between the red and grey one. Then, as usual, the aliens returned to their fierce and violent natures, turning the greeting into a shoving contest.

"Don't fu-," the adult caught herself this time, "leave him alone. He's trouble."

Jane strode forwards, picking up her pace. It was no longer weaving through the crowd, as so much a straight charge across the atrium and to the access corridor that leads to the western parking lot- deciding they wanted to stay out of the way for practicality and ease. The Turians chose to take up the ramp as their headquarters. And this is where Jane headed for her errand.

Yeah, make me, make friendly with the Turians. Screw that they respect the chain of command more than a friendly face, all arguments Jane had tried in vain against the LT to get out of this assignment,  watch me fuck this up over a plant. Jeez, why not let them grow their own garden? Fuck if I know what I am doing.

But he did have one counterargument that made complete sense and was entirely of her own fault. She was the known member of the humans in residence to have any formal diplomatic training. She was still kicking herself for that slip of knowledge.

"You should head back home," she murmured to her back, "boring adult stuff. You won't miss much."

The baggy military rags were not enough protection from the spring chill, but she would press on. Clipping up the three-story climb to reach the perched Turians. The 'outpost' could overlook the entire mall with well-placed postings, which the military-minded turians had already accomplished within hours of selecting this area as a base of operations. The forward guard used to seeing the Recruit hardly blinked, only balking in their subtle way at the package tucked into her arms.

"Recruit," the LT wasn't the only one called by their moniker, the pinkish hued Turian gave something equivalent to a grin eyes wandering down to the plant the human carried, "another issue?"

Jane pushed the plant on the turian, "pretty much. I don't know shit about these plants."

"I grew herbs in my kitchen, I'd guess too much sunlight?"

"Makes as much sense as anything else. We've learned they can't be next to potatoes, now they hate the sun," Jane glanced down at her arms, "and I forgot to wear gloves. That's disappointing- I had plans for those hands tonight."

Silva's mandible vibrated, "there are other ways to relieve tension."

So begun the dance. It always started clean, water running over her arms, a quick quip about the luxury of running water, and the application of ointment. The all too gentle rub of talons across the top of her knuckles, a lingering glance Jane couldn't quite bring herself to notice, and finally a cocky declaration of future victory.

The Commander enjoyed the relaxed regulations of the Turian military, not that Alliance would have ever forbidden forbidden a friendly sparring match it felt much better to let off some steam without fear of repercussion. One didn't have to play nice. Fringe pulling, blows below the belt, untamed aggression was all too welcome in the turian fighting cage. While today wasn't a dirty fight day, Jane was all too eager to move.

Silva made the first jab, and the Recruit absorbed it with a smile.

"The LT is going to have my head one of these days," the Turian went in for the next blow, this time the human dodged, "I'm even going soft on you."

"Come on, Shepard," Garrus mocked, weaving below her fist, "stop dancing around."

Roy didn't appreciate the fighting, even after learning they were all in good sport. The punishment of latrine duty was now part of her chores, for how much she heeded his grumbling. He blamed the bruises for too many things- headaches, sideways glances, the lack of respect she commanded for herself. Why did he care? She never asked, never expected it. But he never told her to stop, so she wouldn't.

"I can't always make it take easy on you, Vakarian," Mary retorted, sweeping out her leg to purchase at a braced turian.

The female turian's claws grasped into her arm, but she was ready, twirling around and planting her elbow into a painfully rigid chin sending the offender reeling back a couple of steps, "that's one advantage of an exoskeleton."

"Or are we afraid to bruise our pretty face in case the Major struts on by," Garrus teased, barely inching past the biotically charged fist going for his scarred mandible, "unless he doesn't know about our little fight club?"

"At least I can roll."

"I wouldn't worry, Shepard," if the Turian were human, his eyebrow would be cocked and a flashy grin across his face, "it's so much better when they are angry."

The turian cackled; today the hits were much easier to connect. Or was the human not trying? She could be like that, destructive. Silva kept the hits low and softened the severity in which she delivered them. Jane struggled to keep her hands where they belonged, one threading and rubbing through her hair each time they disconnected to reset their stances.

"Like I care what the M-" her friend's stern glare shut her down, "don't jealous Gar-Gar."

Jane tumbled to the ground, nose trickling the strange red color. It was time for this fight to be over, the human shook underneath her grasp. But the too expressive species wore a brave face, "Jane."

"Two hundred years later, and still nobody talks about fight club," Mary after close inspection, did notice that the Major strutted, "I'm disappointed I wasn't invited." The handsome human specimen winked at the Commander, his sideways grin all-knowing.

"It's fine, probably enough for the day."

The female moved out of her grasp, turning around to wipe at her face. Silva pretended not to notice Jane went for her eyes first.

"Well, that was quick," the turian was a little disappointed, "you're different for a human."

Jane deaned to turn her head back for that comment, cocking an eyebrow at her, "you must not have left Palaven, or whatever your colony was, much."

"No, ma'am," the turian hesitated, "at least, the rest of your group doesn't seem interested in us."

"How would you feel if this was Palaven?"

Her mandibles vibrated.

"Now add your species being attacked thirty years ago by this species you suddenly have to get along with," Jane smiled softly, she was too harsh, "plus we're a bunch of cranky jerks."

Silva laughed deeply, "and add a war that has crippled an entire galaxy, it is a wonder we aren't all fighting."

"It's the krogan," Jane mused.

"Spirits bless, the krogans being the most level-headed."

"After Tuchanka, they probably feel at home," damn her words, "it was the Salarians all along."

"I mean, that's some deep level conspiracy, but it checks out," her companion tried to keep up the fading mood.

"Just give us some time; we're people of action only that really means something," to which race the words were meant for was moot.

#shenko #fshenko #mass effect fancition #mass effect #female shepard x kaidan #fanfic #mass effect spoilers #take me home

[starneko123]

Purest Pupil

OC Characters Involved

Selene ♔ Tethys

Tethys belongs to @ren-meteor! Selene belongs to me!

Tethys had been thinking about this for a while. She had prayed many times but this particular prayer required some rare tribute. She had heard tales, myths, and supposed acolytes talk about Selene. She had many names and that was for certain. She went by Harbinger of Dreams to children to scare the big and bad monsters in their nightmares. She went by the Mother of Light Magic that brings light to the Dark Magic. Maiden of the Moon, was obvious since she was the Goddess of the Moon.

The last name that Tethys had heard was that she is the Mother of the Divine Children. It threw her off entirely because she didn't know how to think of the title. More than likely she was a mother. 'Don't think too deep about this Tethys.' She scolded herself as she got on her knees, remembering a position that Kung Lao had taught her so that she wouldn't be uncomfortable. 'Yes, child don't think about it.' Tethys froze the only thing she could see is the ground and her chest move up and down as she tried to calm her breathing like Raiden and Fujin taught her.

'She's already here? But I haven't even said the prayer yet.' That was a test question. She read the books and listened to the stories she knew of Selene's many powers. But she didn't get a response at least not right away. Tethys continued to walk the misty forest determined to find the praying shrine. She absentmindedly stepped on a twig. Keyword absentmindedly. Not even a second later she heard an animalistic growl.

Her first instincts was to fight even though she didn't know what she was fighting or she couldn't even see what she was fighting. So she ran. Her speed picked up when she could clearly hear footsteps. Footsteps meaning plural! Tethys didn't like that. 'You should run faster.' Tethys didn't know if the voice came from her head or around her but she was too busy running to find out. The voice clearly belonged to a woman. But she had no choice but to shrug it off as she arrived at Neoma Shrine.

Neoma was just another name for the moon. She liked it. She got on her knees, lit a white candle placing it in front of the shrine then took put pendant that moon design aligned with little stars. She placed it around the shrine and finally, she poured some water in a bowl because this was apart of the prayer. If the water turned white like milk that means that Lady Selene appreciates your offering and praise your prayers will be answered soon. But if the water turned it was simple, you have now angered the moon goddess.

Unbeknownst to Tethys Selene herself was sitting in a tree close by. She was always interested in all species coming to pray to and for her specifically. Selene had heard about Tethys but never seen and she was a beautiful woman! But still a child in Selene's eyes, she didn't mean to mess with her mind a few moments ago, Selene was just trying to warn the girl before her darling white wolves would have gotten her and ripped her to pieces whether she was half god or not.

Selene teleported behind Tethys waiting for her to finish the prayer. Selene waited until Tethys finished preaching to her or for her. Tethys opened her eyes and took off her hood she looked at the water and it was white! Tethys clapped her hands in excitement and then dipped her fingers in the water and the texture was surely- "It's bad luck to dip your fingers in the offering water." Selene informed and she watched as Tethys stood up grabbing her blade from her holster then and tried to strike Selene.

Selene caught her hand but did nothing more than speak "You're not an assassin because you would have reacted faster and much earlier. Are you a priestess may be a simple traveler." Selene knew who she was but she wanted to hear it come from Tethys mouth. She knew who those seafoam eyes belonged to. "Tell me who you are, if you wish to live to see another day," Selene said as she let go of her wrist and she wasn't going to hurt Tethys. It was against her morals and her vows.

"I'm Nomad-" Selene put her hand up to stop Tethys "Your real name. Do not make me repeat myself." Tethys would be lying if she said she wasn't intimidated right now the woman was smaller than her but she still had higher authority over Tethys. "My name is Tethys. I came from my village in Earthrealm. I trained under Raiden, The White Lotus, and the Shirai Ryu. I seek you now." Tethys declared. Selene smiled and tilted her head to the side "Do you know what you truly seek, my dear? I have had the dissatisfaction of meeting your father a time or two. Apologies." Selene laughed slightly to change the atmosphere because things had gotten so serious so quickly.

Tethys giggled "Well, I'm not offended I have never met the Almighty Poseidon either. Not much I'm living for." Tethys finished her sentence with a soft but sad smile. "Walk with me, raindrop," Selene said beginning to walk anyway, and Tethys collected her things not taking any notice to the love name that Selene called her then did a small jog to catch up with her. "My temple isn't far from here. You may stay the night if you'd like and as I can see, you are well packed." Selene said raising her brow gesturing to her bags.

"Me meeting you tonight was pure luck, Ms. Selene-" Selene had cut Tethys off again "Don't say luck. Luck is such a boring word to use at least in this situation. I would call this destiny...because neither of us know what the future holds now, do we?" Selene said and took that moment to look up at the sky and then back down at Selene. She could see everything so clearly. Selene had snow-white hair, pale skin with full lips, azure eyes that had no pupil showing another trait of her divine rights. She was wearing a pure white jumpsuit with a cape attached that was flowing behind her even though there was no wind and to top it off she was wearing boot heels that seem to shine and sparkle every time Tethys glanced at them.

Selene raised her hand and waved as blue magic started to whirl around the both of them. Selene then swiped her hands down, and Tethys closed her eyes thinking she was going to hit her. "Open your eyes, raindrop." Tethys could hear the rich laughter in her voice. Tethys did so and she was fascinated at the temple she was in. Just like her outfit, like her hair, and her outfit it was pure white with some black and blue of various shades. "Come. I'll show you to your chambers." Selene was already walking up the stairs. Tethys followed after with a big goofy smile on her face.

"Selene-" Selene cut her off "Don't take my kindness into something to be looked over Tethys." Right she was an elder compared to Tethys and she had to show respect and use the honorifics. "Lady Selene this happening fast I-I think we should talk more! I would really like to know more about you." Tethys spoke truthfully, and they reached a door. "And I you but from my perspective, you don't look in the best of mind to speaking to me in this time. Tomorrow." Selene told her and all Tethys could do was nod.

She had worn herself out collecting information and trying to find this location. Plus she still needed to send word to Raiden or Fujin that her travels were victorious or that she was safe. Tethys snapped out of her gaze as Selene opened the door. "I hope it is to your liking," Selene said and Tethys examined the room she did that with every room she walked in. She could tell immediately that this room had mot been tampered with or...ever used in the first place. She was the first one to enter this room. But other than that it was extravagant. Truly deserving of the meaning spoils of my wins.

Selene had teleported away and she was on top of the temple. She had to think and relax her body before something else internally would happen. She looked up to the moon. It was a full moon. "Who made you complete?" She questioned to herself with a chuckle.

Tethys watched as Selene left and had an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Was she mad that she didn't compliment the room or thank her for the hospitality? She shook her head trying to clear it of wandering thoughts. She set down her stuff then climbed in the bed herself.

By the gods, the bed was pure too!

Don't worry this is getting a part two.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat oc #oc interaction #my thoughts #tethys #selene #purest pupil series #purest pupil

[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 6. Random thoughts.

She hurried along behind the others, but she couldn’t quite get the image of the red-haired spell caster out of her mind.

Maybe I’m just imagining things, but...he looked really familiar.

Let me guess...

[Chapter 3]

Nailed it!

“How many?” Guild Girl asked, her pen scratching on the paper. “Oh, and break them down by quest, please.”

“Thirty-four for the first quest.”

He suddenly fell silent. Guild Girl stopped writing and looked up, and Goblin Slayer added quietly, “and ten or less missing.”

“Missing?”

“We went in, rescued the hostage, and flooded the nest. I confirmed thirty- four bodies. There can’t be more than ten left.”

You can tell this series has done a good job making the goblins feel like a threat that I'm really concerned about any goblins escaping the nest Goblin Slayer flooded. With how quickly they learn and how much he tries to keep them from learning his methods, now I'm going to be worried about some goblins down the line breaking open a dam and flooding a village because of how well it worked against them.

This is a weird thing to focus on but why do goblins get so excited over elf women compared to the women of other species? It just gets brought up a lot through the series when seeing things from the goblins' POV. Is it because of their beauty, their age, some kind of ancient grudge between elves and goblins, or is it just that they smell particularly good? Because back in vol. 1 Goblin Slayer made a point about goblin noses being quite sensitive to the smells of women, children, and elves. Obviously they're cruel and lustful to any women they want to capture but they keep singling out specifically High Elf Archer when she's with human women. Closest I've seen to an answer is in this volume, with the goblins knowing that elf meat apparently keeps for longer.

“All right,” he said. Then the helmet turned toward the boy. “Let’s go.”

Ugh. Not expecting much from this meal.

The boy nodded grudgingly then heaved himself to his feet and followed after Goblin Slayer.

If the food sucks, I’m knocking over that table.

This kid's starting to piss me off.

“Heh! I know you’re back-row, but there’s no way someone as weepy and blubbering as you could ever get promoted!”

That sent High Elf Archer’s ears straight back, and she began looking for their antagonist. The owner of the voice rose unsteadily from one of the benches.

It was the red-haired boy—dressed in a robe, holding a staff, wearing glasses. That wizard.

Priestess spent only a second with her mouth open in shock, then the corners of her eyes tightened angrily.

“I—I’m not weepy!”

“I dunno ’bout that. I hear all you clerics like a good cry.” He gave a dismissive sniff and didn’t even open his eyes all the way as he looked at Priestess. Maybe he thought all this diligent ridicule made him look cool.

He didn’t seem to realize that it just made him seem like a slimy villain.

“Whenever you’re in trouble, it’s O gods, please, save me! Boo-hoo-hoo!, right?”

...I want to break his nose. Specifically I want Priestess and/or Goblin Slayer to break his nose.

The only spell he could use was Fireball, and he could only use it once per day.

THE MORON ONLY HAD ONE SPELL HE COULD USE AND ONLY ONCE A DAY?! Priestess already had to keep him from using it once against a basic encounter with goblins! What the hell was he planning on doing after that for the rest of the nest?! Just beating them with his staff?! He doesn't seem like the type to see any merit in fighting like a barbarian and certainly not the type to dirty his magic conduit. His sister was apparently top of her class so I'm assuming she actually had at least two or more spells she could use (I don't remember what specially was said she could do back in vol. 1) and Priestess had two Miracles she could use three times a day.

Ron Weasley, year one at Hogwarts, is a better wizard than this kid! Think about that! He actually used his one spell exactly when he needed it and beat a troll!

It was funny all the ways Goblin Slayer found around High Elf Archer's rules, but it's also kind of funny that now he just seems to be ignoring them. He flooded a nest (finally got to use a scroll for the reason he bought it) and set a troll on fire. Though I like what even she pointed out, that he holds back on such methods when the goblins have a hostage. Also I suppose her main problem was using fire, water, and poison to attack from a distance or flush out the goblins and then pick them off methodically, making it feel like less of an adventure. Then again, it's goblins. She already doesn't consider that an adventure. The goal is less exploration and more pest control.

Aw, Sword Maiden and Noble Fencer are friends. That's sweet.

Just like with how Goblin Slayer's equipment and methods relate to goblins, I love just reading about Dwarf Shaman talk about magic and the basic principles of it, as well as Lizard Priest talking about his culture. It's just little details I like getting wrapped up in. It's very simple yet believable logic how Wizard Boy's eyes were opened to him actually having four spells instead of just one; breaking down something complicated into its smaller parts.

Again, so glad Spearman isn't a Motoyasu. I'm actively glad Goblin Slayer has someone like him and Heavy Warrior in his life. Also, this is funny only just because it's in comparison to the last few light novel series I've read prior to this, but:

Overlord: Protagonist is a skeleton. Can't drink.

Konosuba: Protagonist can drink but it's his useless companion whom usually gets drunk

Rising of the Shield Hero: Protagonist physically can't get drunk. Immunity to toxins too high.

Goblin Slayer: Protagonist drank, got drunk, puked in an alley, went out drinking with friends on another day, had a hangover the next morning, still went out to kill goblins. I really hope he got his helmet open before he threw up because it's already got to smell not pleasant and you know he wouldn't be removing his helmet on the walk home.

I like that you can kind of tell Goblin Slayer is reapplying Burgler's teachings to Priestess (minus the parts where he'd throw stuff at her). At the big moments he doesn't tell her she can or can't do something, rather he asks if she can or listens to the plan she's come up with. As Burgler taught him, once you decide to do something and act on it, you've already won. His words about power not mattering if you can't even do that much feel like they can apply even more to Priestess, as she has next to no offensive abilities and thus gaining power that'd be useful in killing goblins is even less of an option for her than it was for Goblin Slayer.

Despite all my prior words, I didn't hate Wizard Boy. It's just that undeserved arrogance is one of the quickest ways to get me to be against a character, especially when they're loud about how much better they think they are and their ego actively causes problems for others (Ben 10 in his later series is the most immediate example for me). There are plenty of arrogant and egotistical characters in fiction that I really love, like Lex Luthor or Mandy from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, but usually they can back up their arrogance and they're more "speak softly and carry a big stick". They don't need to boast about how good they are, they just let their actions speak for them. Wizard Boy, I get it, he's going through a character arc and he does grow somewhat during this book. It's just that his sense of superiority despite being in WAY over his head and his disrespect even after he learns his lesson makes it a little hard to be on his side. Hopefully his new adventuring partner can help straighten him out a bit more, and of course I love all the ways his presence caused Goblin Slayer to reflect and evaluate himself, given what they have in common.

This is probably me just looking too deep into things again, but I'm curious what was bigger source of guilt for Goblin Slayer in this book: that he couldn't save Wizard Boy's sister, thus reminding him of his own and making him feel like nothing's changed since he started killing goblins, or that he was the one who killed her? Obviously I think the former is more likely, given the themes and parallels in this book, but it's shown often that despite how he talks, looks, and carries himself, Goblin Slayer isn't some cold-hearted, unfeeling monster. He does care about people and even though it was a mercy kill Wizard begged for I can see him having some heavy feelings weighing on him after killing someone innocent, especially with Wizard Boy's presence forcing him to confront that reality again.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/fxut3s/read_through_light_novel_vol_6_random_thoughts/

#goblin slayer #random thoughts #reddit repost

[arcanigenum]

hey look i’m moving this cool guy to this blog:

NAME: Haq’rhá ( /Hɑq'ʀ̥a/ ), meaning chipper AGE: Equivalent to a 45 years old human SPECIES: Yautja (predator) PLACE OF BIRTH: - SEX & GENDER: Male SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Sexual

→PERSONALITY

adventurous, hungry for knowledge, curious, fiercely independent, data and fact-oriented, impulsive, takes risks for little gain, easily bored, observant and notices details, the more action the better, a lot of humor, extroverted and chatty, hands-on, easily excited, very energetic, talks to himself if no one’s around, difficult to calm down and relax, rather does what he’s currently interested in (or obsessed with) than things that need to be done, whimsical, impatient, defiant and goes his own way, short attention span unless things are really interesting

→ BACKSTORY

They tried to make a fierce hunter out of him and… failed. Well, not really. Haq’rhá did go through all of the training and trials and came out among the top of his group. He does enjoy a good hunt. He has even taken the time to master the spear and bow. However, his thirst for knowledge was greater than the thirst for blood. Haq’rhá wanted to know how the world and universe worked. The elders knew he was bright and thought he should put his intellect and ideas to good use. With the elders’ blessing, Haq’rhá left the clan to study and became a scholar.

He took an interest in the natural sciences, such as genetic engineering and molecular biology. He’s also fascinated with the flora and fauna of different planets, at times the geology too, and just the whole ecosystem that makes everything work. The only time Haq’rhá could be still was when diving into these topics and devoured all of the available information. Instead of joining hunting packs, he joined groups of other scientists to explore and do research in the field. It didn’t take long before he eventually went out on his own, determined to make new discoveries.

While doing the occasional hunt on the side, he learned about other civilizations’ cultures and languages, took samples of willing creatures, or simply kidnapped one. His experiments have been bordering on immoral (a handful of other yautja may or may not have been aware of what they got themselves into), but he’s also had a couple of breakthroughs and laid the foundation for further research. The foundation for the mega predator? Yeah, maybe.

→ APPEARANCE

Haq'rhá has an asymmetric chimera like pattern of purple, greys and light grey. Some parts of it is split directly in the middle on his body, and it consists of various spots and blotches here and there like someone threw paint on him. The “hair” is also covered in spots of the same colors, some tendrils have more than others. Picture HERE.

Stands at 8’1½” / 248cm. His eyes are bright blue and green, and the iris covers most of the eye with little to no black sclera visible. The tongue is snake-like, being rather thin and forked. The “hair” is not hair, it is flesh with a rubbery texture and it bleeds. His skin is reptile-like and rather dry compared to other Yautja who can be damp and clammy. He is muscular and lean with narrow hips and broad chest, both agile and strong.

Yautja gives off a musk that other yautja and canines can detect, while humans can not. Unless they’re angry, when there’s a prominent bitter and oily scent. Bleeds green glowing stuff.

SCARS: Scars are scattered across his body, both from being scratched, impaled and shot. He has his clan’s mark on his forehead. Two scars run across his face, from the right eyebrow and down over the ‘nose’ and ‘lip’, to the left skinflap which has been torn on the edge. His left upper fang is broken off at the base.

→ NATURAL ABILITIES

Thermographic vision. Can’t see like humans do, and the field of vision is smaller.

Breathes more methane, needs the bio-mask to survive outside his own atmosphere. Can survive up to a week without it, though.

Can hold his breath for several minutes.

Stronger and more durable than humans. As in, can tear open a steel door and rock walls, can easily tear apart humans etc. with his bare hands, only breaks a rib or two from getting shot with bazooka or having a handgrenade blown up in his face, can jump three times his height, and can fall ten times his height and land on his feet.

Can mimic and imitate speech/sounds of other species, but doesn’t necessarily understand it. Mimics voices. Picks up new languages quickly.

Can hear a whisper up to 50 feet away.

Impervious to heat (boiling water gets uncomfy after five minutes), invulnerable to electricity and to radiation.

Can shrug off most small-caliber bullets thanks to the tough hide.

→ EQUIPMENT & WEAPONRY

Wire mesh suit: keeps the yautja warm, even if it’s -50C.

Bio mask: Has sound amplifier, multiple vision modes, zoom function, diagnostic capabilities, recording system, and tracking and target for the shoulder cannon.

Cloaking device: Provides with active camouflage, bending the light around the wearer, rendering it partially invisible. Works the best at longer distances. Water will damage it.

Medi-kit: Small case that contains various medical supplies.

Plate Armor: Does not cover the whole body. Very light and strong, can stop bullets but be penetrated by Xenomorphs’ stinger.

Sat-Com: Portable computer housed in the Wrist gauntlet. Projects holographic schematics of a particular object or building. Can also display the position of mines or lasers nets in the area, and damage radius.

Wrist gauntlet/Wrist computer: Houses several features, including a self-destruct device.

Plasma caster/shoulder cannon: Long range energy projector capable of guiding armor-penetrating plasma bolts at distant targets. The bolt also explodes on impact in a burst of plasma shrapnel, damaging other enemies close by.

Wrist blades: Retractable, twin serrated blades. Sharp enough to cut through bone and hard enough to cut sever a chopper. Can be fired as a projectile as a last resort.

Combi stick: Telescopic spear-like weapon that is about 2-2½ ft long when closed up and around 8ft when fully extended.

Smart disc: Extremely sharp circular weapon that acts as a combination of discus and boomerang, and contains a form of guidance system. Extremely powerful, shown to cut through half a dozen of cattle carcasses and a man in Predator 2 without any effort.

Net launcher: Handheld device, fires a wire net with sufficient velocity to hurl and pin target to a wall. The net also features a built-in tightening mechanism that will cause the net to retract and slice into the target once they are pinned.

Gauntlet plasma bolt: Housed in the wrist gauntlet and used as a back up.

Shuriken: Functions much like a smart disc, but without the return function or guidance system. Has retractable blades that extend when ready for use.

#x. haqra #plopping this here until i can be bothered to fix everything on the blog

[hurt-spock]

Companion- Chapter 2

latest chapter. also posted on a03 This isn’t formatted for tumblr but it’s not too horrendous. 

Spock's return to consciousness was slow.

He was aware of himself and the physical condition he was in long before he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.

Although he'd been conscious since the crash, he'd struggled to pay any real attention to what was happening around him. He'd focused mostly on finding a safer location than McCoy had repeatedly suggested, and moving forward.

He was all too aware of how much pressure he was putting on the Doctor just to keep him upright, but there was little choice.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the Doctor sat close by, keeping a wary eye out on their surroundings.

“Did you find water?” Spock asked, watching as the Doctor startled at Spock's voice.

“Gimme a heart attack why don'tcha,” McCoy said as he looked towards his friend. He let out an exhale that was dangerously close to a huff before answering. “No, I didn't want to leave you here alone while I wandered off, not when you were unconscious,” McCoy justified.

Spock wasn't disappointed. He hadn't meant to fall unconscious, but his body had other ideas. “I am well rested now. You should go,” Spock encouraged. It was important that they have enough fresh water to survive. Spock would do better than McCoy in a normal situation, but being injured, he would have to rely on McCoy to do more for him, which would also take a greater toll on McCoy's own health.

McCoy stood from his make shift seat on a log and picked up a sturdy stick, placing it within reach of Spock. He also put down a piece of fabric that clattered together when it landed. Spock opened the fabric parcel to find some stones. “Well, you got to be able to defend yourself, even if it is limited,” McCoy reasoned.

“Very considerate. Thank you, Doctor,” Spock said sincerely. “Spock indicated to the direction of the water. “You should head that way. The water is not too far away,”

McCoy nodded and took the two canteens with him, making sure Spock drunk a little first.

Spock watched the Doctor go and when he was out of sight, he tested his leg. Intense pain shot through his thigh with the slightest movement and he decided against trying to move any further. He would have liked to have been more upright. Perhaps when McCoy returned, he could help him to adjust the jacket underneath him to prop his head up a little more. He was flat on the ground and not only did he feel vulnerable, he looked it too.

If there were to be anyone who may stumble upon them, Spock would look to be prone. Spock's did appreciate his acute hearing ability then. He could still hear McCoy's distant footsteps and the water running however far away it was. He knew he'd be able to pick up on the sound of anyone approaching the campsite and despite how he looked, he was not defenceless.

That could easily work in their favour to anyone thinking Spock was vulnerable to attack. Because he could still defend himself. The sticks and stones McCoy gave him may scare off a primitive species or a hungry animal, but anything bigger would need more persuading that Spock wasn't a tasty meal to be had. And he had no concerns that he would be able to convince most creatures away from him. McCoy however, was not as strong. He was fine with a phaser and he wasn't a weak man by any standards, but he also was a healer and doing harm didn't sit well with him. Spock had his own misgivings about violence due to his Vulcan heritage, but joining Starfleet meant that at times, force could be necessary, although he did his best to avoid it.

Spock's biggest concern though, was a food source. They had no idea of what food they'd be able to find and eating anything would be a risk. Spock would check the packs but McCoy had left them both out of reach.

Perhaps, not an oversight by McCoy.

~

Spock had done a good job of finding a location close to the water but not too close. McCoy emptied one canteen into the other and tucked it back in his pack. Spock would have that one. McCoy then filled his own canteen up and attached it to his belt. He freshened himself up with the water.

He took a quick look around. He'd seen no signs of life which was a good thing. He headed back to where Spock was quickly, keen not to leave him vulnerable for longer than he had too. It took mere minutes to get back to Spock. He thought that if they yelled, they'd probably be able to communicate most of the distance. That wasn't a smart idea though.

He worried if there were hostile inhabitants on the planet and if they found them, what they'd do with them. He worried about a lot of things. He spent the whole damn night staring at Spock worrying about every damn bad thing that could happen. He worried about infection and food supplies. Getting rescued. He tried not to think about Spock's injury too much which just meant that he thought about it whenever he wasn't worrying about all the other things there was to worry about.

Spock didn't appear to have moved at all since he'd left and McCoy sat down beside him. He knew Spock wasn't unconscious, just resting. “I got water,” McCoy announced when he returned. He briefly touched Spock's temple for a gage in his temperature. He needed to check regularly for a fever.

“Good,” Spock replied. He opened his eyes but didn't looked at McCoy. The angle for him to do so wasn't the easiest.

“You should take a drink. I know Vulcan's don't drink much but, you've had a traumatic injury,”

“Very well,” Spock agreed. He propped himself up on his elbows and held out a shaky hand for McCoy to pass the canteen of water. McCoy looked away, ignoring the slight shaking even though they both knew McCoy saw it and had nothing better to do that fret over Spock.

Spock laid back down again when he was done and closed his eyes.

“You want to eat yet?” McCoy asked. They had rations. It would last a couple of days at most. Then that would become an issue as well.

“Soon, but not right now,” Spock replied. “You should if you desire it.”

McCoy was hungry. His stomach had been growling for a while now and he decided that it would be better for them both if he didn't wait for Spock to eat. He knew they differed vastly with the needs of a human compared to a vulcan and it wouldn't help matters to pressure Spock in any way to make him feel he should eat just because that's what McCoy needed to do.

McCoy opened the pack with the food rations in. He went through them all to see what exactly they had. He divided them up into two piles. As Spock was on this trip, some bars had been provided that would suit him and his needs better and McCoy made sure he didn't take any by mistake. He replaced the bars for Spock back into the bag and also put the canteen of water in it as well. He put the pack within easy reach of Spock so he'd be able to get what he needed himself.

McCoy ate half of his bar, before folding the packaging back up and putting it away for later. He really didn't want to try and find them food.

“Don't you have some Vulcan healing thing you can do?” McCoy asked.

Spock kept his eyes closed as he answered. “There is a Vulcan healing trance. However, it would not be ideal to go into that trance at this time.”

“Why not?”

Spock opened his eyes and looked at McCoy. “Although a Vulcan chooses to go into a healing trance, once in, it is almost like a human in an induced coma. I would be at your mercy. I would not even be able to come out of the trance without your assistance. If something were to happen to you, I would be trapped. Aware of everything around me, but unable to escape the trance. The risks are too great. I can focus all my energy into healing while we wait though. It is a safer option, although the healing process is not as fast as it would be in the healing trance.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” McCoy asked.

“You're doing everything that there is to do,” Spock said. “Taking care of yourself is vital.”

“Yeah, I know,” McCoy said. “What else should I do? I'm not great at this survival stuff.”

“While we have light, you should gather more fuel for the fire.”

“I'm not leaving you here alone,” McCoy protested.

“I don't suggest that you go far. And I remind you Doctor of how acute you know my hearing to be. I will hear anything long before you see it.”

McCoy sighed. He wasn't happy about the idea but even Spock agreed there was no need for him to go far. He'd stay close and Spock could call if anything came close. “Okay,” he agreed. “But you yell if you hear anything!” McCoy warned.

Spock nodded. He watched McCoy leave and resumed his rest.

#Star Trek #AOS #Spock #McCoy #Hurt!Spock

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “My Humans”

Ok guys I had a TON of fun writing this one. There is a guy on you-tube I watch who raises lions and hyenas and he can go into their enclosures and stuff because they have known him from a young age, and I just thought how funny it would be to make humans the dangerous animals in that same style. I hope you all like it as much as I did. Tell me what you think of the style, its completely new to me, and I don’t know if it’s any good. :)

The feed brightens from black to a grainy white before the picture slowly resolves. The image is of a room tilted at a half angle shaking slightly as someone shifts in the background. You can just see a window in the back far corner. Space glitters in through an inky blackness dotted with a smattering of glittering white, blue and red pinpricks. The camera tilts slowly around, and a face comes into view. It is an inhuman face dark brown in color with large prismatic orange eyes and short antae atop it’s rounded head. It adjusts the picture to the horizontal straightening out the canted view of the room.

“Ok….. it says it’s on.” The creature clears his throat and straightens up, “So for introductions, I am Dr. Krill of the Vrul chief medical officer aboard the human vessel U.S.S Harbinger I have been working with humans for well over a year and a half now. Some say I am the leading expert in the field.” He turns in a circle and heads towards the door, the camera shakes a bit as the room recedes into the background, “I don’t know about that, but I do have the most experience. I have been writing reports on the human’s behavior for some time now, but some comments have been made about my potential biases. Others have pointed out that I am not, in fact a behavioral expert and have asked for video footage on the subject of humans to make their own judgements.” He passes through a door into another hallway flipping the camera around so the viewers can see the long space ahead. Compared to the camera height, the hallway is very tall.

“So I thought it would be prudent at first to introduce you to some of my humans let you know a little about them.” He steps through another doorway, “First of all I am here to dispel a lot of negative rumors that have been going around about humans lately, and let you all see the truth of humans, the good side of them. First off, I am going to be addressing the idea that ‘humans are the most animalistic sentient species in the galaxy’ I personally think this is a dumb statement, first off it makes no sense, and second off it can be intermitted many ways. Yes, humans are more in touch with their animal instincts than a lot of us, they have lots of primitive nonverbal communication, a strict social hierarchy led by unwritten social rules, and they do tend to act on their instincts a little more than we do. However humans are also remarkably smart, and very easy to bond with.”

He passes up a set of metal stairs clattering and clanging while the camera bobs back and forth “Humans are a very pack-oriented creature, and this instinct has allowed them to bond with many other species. I would estimate that my acceptance aboard the ship took about a week to set in and a little under a month to fully form. At that point the humans will accept you as one of their own and place you within the social hierarchy. Human hierarchy tends to have a very pyramid like structure with an alpha human at the top followed by their Betas and then going on down the latter. I would place myself somewhere in the Betas of this human pack.” He turns a corner and stops before a door, “I am about to introduce you to one of my favorite humans, he is the leader of the pack but actually one of the most affable of the humans. It is important to note that each human has a fascinatingly distinct personalities, very colorful characters. This humans name is Vir, and I would characterize him as very social, surprisingly juvenile, but aggressively loyal and laid back for, so here let’s just go in and say hi.”

He turns the camera back towards the door, which clatters lightly before swinging open. It takes a moment for the camera to adjust to the darkness, but when it does you can see the silhouette of a large figure cured atop a strange platform- like object. “Humans use up a lot of energy during the day, and when they nest at night they have to find somewhere dark and soft to do it. Now, imposing on a human’s sleep is not recommended, so we have to feel things out to make sure he’s going to be ok seeing us. I may be part of their pack but every day I have to remain wary and am very careful with how I approach humans.”

The camera zooms in on the figure which churns rolls and then sits up. A single large, forward-facing eyes greet them from the darkness flashing with light from the hallway. It tilts it’s head blinking as the pupils quickly constrict against the light, “This human is a male approximately 26 solar cycles old, 6,2 and 205 pounds with athletic body composition aside from a missing leg and a missing eye, unlike other species humans accept the survival of extreme injury as a status symbol.”

The camera picks up a series of guttural grumbles, hums, hisses and clicks as the human opens its mouth teeth glittering against the incoming light.

“Now, see, right here, he’s protecting his territory wants to make sure I know what I am getting myself into and asking me what I am doing.” More hissing and humming, “He’s warning me, but something I’ve learned to do to calm a human.” The camera turns a little just so you can see his face silhouetted against the backdrop of light. He opens his mouth very wide before, “Yawning is thought to be a social symbol for letting others know everything is ok. It’s contagious.” He turns the camera around, and the large human has a paw over his mouth chest rising with a very deep breath. He stops ad turns to look at the camera.

“See, he will probably let me approach now.” The light flicks on momentarily blinding the camera as it struggles to focus. The human makes a pained mewing sound as he holds his paw up towards the light. Its face is very expressive under a creamy white skin and a dusting of tawny fur atop its head. The tips of its digits glitter with strange translucent claws.

The human grows bigger in the lens as Krill moves closer right up to where the creature is lying. The large head turns to follow the progress single jade eye blinking from deep within its socket. The grumbling noises rise up from the creature’s chest as its teeth flash, “It may look intimidating, but this human knows me, and wouldn’t be likely to hurt me. Humans are very curious, so he will want to know what I am doing in his territory at this time. Now if he really wanted to, as leader of the pack, he could make me leave at any time, but due to his curiosity, I bet he won’t.” The human snorted ejecting a puff of air from flared nostrils.

“See that, right there, humans have a lot of nonverbal noises they use to communicate. That one is exasperation or annoyance. It’s not really a sign of danger in a human but an indication they are willing to put up with you.” The human rolled its eyes flashing the white sclera of its strange orbs towards camera before shifting towards the edge of its sleeping space and throwing off the sheets in which it was wrapped. The camera quickly zooms In on the missing leg before panning out to capture the creature as it raises its hands above its head arches it’s back, flexes it’s arms and cranes it’s neck.

Its strange pink tongue runs over its teeth as it yawns again.

“The human muscular system is very fluid rich, this behavior right here helps the human to prepare for movement by moving fluid into the correct places and recalibrating feedback systems that allow it to move.” The human finishes its stretch and turns to look at Krill, the eye flickers towards Krill and then the camera. It growls, and then with one paw, it swipes at the camera. 

“Now, that may have looked aggressive, and I suppose it could have been but that’s what happens when humans get confused and curious. He just wants to know wat I am doing.”

The human sit back with a reproachful expression on his face shakes its head quickly back and forth and then flops backwards with an exaggerated sigh still eyeing Krill with that one green eye. “Now this is rather large for a male human, the average height being around 5’11, but he is by no means the largest male on the ship. Human hierarchy isn’t denoted by size or gender, but rather, the entire human race is placed into a hierarchical structure with their UN president at the top of that hierarchy, currently a short human female. Is has nothing to do with physical prowess and more to do with authority and social standing.”

The camera moves a bit closer to the human who leanes away brows furrowed before turning with a grumble onto his side facing away from the camera, “Now this is pretty interesting, humans have some of the best hearing known to the sentient species. See those folds inside the ear, helps them to funnel sound and determine the directionality of the noise. They have excellent horizontal and vertical sound location when the sound is in front of them. In fact, the path of sound into the brain is directly connected to the movement of the eyes.”

“Another important thing to remember around humans, as I said before, each of them are different, and this is important to note if you ever come into contact with humans. Some are more social than others, and some are more willing to let you touch them than others. This particular human is willing to put up with more than the average human.” A hand reaches out from behind the camera and proceeds to pat the human on the head. The human’s facial muscles contort into an unknown expression, “Now, no one really knows why humans have hair on the tops of their heads, it isn’t particularly useful for anything. At this point it’s mostly just believe it was selected for in the species as an attraction point for mates. Some humans lose their hair over time and others choose to get rid of it all together.”

The human sat up again catching the hand that had been panting him on the head and turned to look at Krill making more noises with his mouth, “Ah see, now there he is warning me off, so I’ll just pull back a little.” The camera shows Take a look at the eye, yes, see the large black aperture, that is the pupil and it gives humans the ability to control the amount of light they allow into their eye. When it is dark, the pupil will dilate giving them the ability to see in both the dark and the light, which is rather unknown to those species who use the spectrums of light between ultraviolet and infrared. Despite this inability, humans have the best depth perception, for reasons of hunting. Of course the alpha has lousy depth perception since you need two eyes for that”

The human’s head levels out, and its single eye locks onto the camera. The lid drops sweeping a layer of mucus over the outer layer of the eye, and then it lunges. The camera spirals spins, there is a scuffle as the image sees only patterns of shape and movement as the picture careens around the room, then it evens out. The camera turns around to view the human looking wide eyed into the lens. It grumble, then the image turns around to look down at Krill who has his arms crossed, “See, now that I have invaded on his territory he has deemed it necessary to prove his dominance over me by stealing my property, but you see there is a simple way to deal with a naughty human, at least this one anyway.”

The camera pans down as Krill walks forward and mercilessly jabs the human in his single leg. The human lets off a high pithed yelp of pain. The camera spirals and tilts viewing the room from floor level before it is snatched up turning back to face Krill, “I do not recommend doing that to two legged humans.” Behind him in the scene, the human is scrambling to his single leg, and rooting around beside the nest. Krill begins to speed up and then breaks into a scuttle, “Of course, I didn’t hurt the human. When dealing with their species, it is important to treat the humans the way humans treat humans, and between two dominant male humans physical dominance is very important….. What I employed was a simple dominance tactic to let him know that steeling my property isn’t allowed”

Something rattles behind him as Krill speeds up, “Of course it is wise to note that not all alphas will take things so well. This particular human is likely to interpret the action as play rather than a threat.” He cuts a corner and hides in the darkness of the next room over, “Keeping the human mind spry with play is very important for their happiness.” He quieted down very quickly as a set of footsteps stalked up the hall.

Loud hooting and chirping echoed from the hallway, “Humans enjoy being able to practice their hunting skills. That would be a hunting call to lure me out.” He whispered, “Luckily humans have terrible senses of smell.”

A shadow blocked the doorway, and the growling was suddenly very close by. Krill squeaked and the camera went black.

 Subtitles Krill Neglected to Add

Krill, what the hell are you doing? Why…..krill it’s four in the mourning.

You have got to be kidding me.

Wait, are you seriously filming right now.

I’m not a golden retriever Krill, why are you petting me! Who are you talking to? If this is going to be replacing your reports, I don’t know if I’m down for that.

Lousy depth perception my ass.

OW! SHIT no fair!

Alright, come out come out wherever you are…. Ok if you want to play this game, we can play.

But as you said before, we have excellent hearing.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia #humans are weird

[originlist]

i just wanted to write laurel having Caring and being real mad about it @caimkairos​

It’s not like Laurel does much in terms of getting into situations she can’t find her way out if without dying, but she does have an ego that leads to biting off more than she can chew sometimes. Combined with not having a contracted Servant and it ends in there being some unfortunate missteps. But! She is not entirely alone. Friends come in handy. Laurel waltzes down Chaldea’s hall, a pleased spring in her step at avoiding danger, with her latest partner in crime alongside. “You saved my skin out there, Bei,” she says with a merry hum.

Bei deflects promptly. “It’s my job, and I’d like to keep you out of trouble.” It’s probably for the best she doesn’t die.

 “Nah, you did great!” Laurel isn’t going to fall for it. She hops a bit. “And we pulled out all a-okay, which is a new one for me. It deserves a celebration. You get to pick. It’s been a while since I cooked and magic takes calories, I’m gonna make snacks. Whatcha want?”

Bei thinks a moment, and when they speak it’s with careful syllables. “Something with meat… would be nice.”

Laurel pauses a step for that, a moment of surprise, before she carries right on as to keep things casual. “You like meat? How come you didn’t say anything?” She hardly eats it, out of incident ended up pescatarian at best, so if Bei likes meat and all the food in Laurel’s dorm she offers is mainly vegetarian, then that means… has she seriously been doing a bad job feeding them all this time?

Bei shakes their head to deflect immediately. “It’s not a big concern, don’t worry.” Sheesh, they even clocked that she was going to make a deal out of it. But still, they also sound hesitant, awkward, like they’re worried about how their words are going to be weighed, as if there’s something other than the face of the matter. “I can eat things that aren’t. I simply… feel fuller with meat”

Oh, so there was. Laurel stops fully now, turning to face Bei with her hands on her hips to make them directly acknowledge her expression, a mix of appalled and offended. “And you didn’t say anything?” They didn’t just ask?! Aren’t they friends?! She can’t even feed them properly! Bei’s protesting, flustered and self-conscious, trying to say something about how it’s strange, they don’t want to be strange, but— too late, Laurel’s grabbed them by the lapel and is dragging them off like taking a troublesome child to time-out. Only she’s doing so gently.

Laurel realizes she has no power whatsoever compared to Bei and isn’t even pretending. She also knows that they’d follow along with her when she wants. “I have to make up for what, so many bad snacks? This is an emergency.” If anyone’s in the kitchen doing whatever it is they do, they won’t be for long. Laurel is a one-man storm of misdirected emotional maladaption and she’s going to get her way.

What ‘her way’ is would be storming the kitchen, seating Bei down at a table that’s within talking distance from the nearest stovetop, and kicking out anyone who happens to be in earshot. It might have been a long time since she last made most species of meat food, but by God she’s not going to be shown up now. She ends up freeing a wrapped pack of bacon and something else she hasn’t expected yet from the group fridge (it was probably for someone, but she’ll pay them back later, or something, burn that bridge when she gets to it) and setting at least the former to sizzling on a pan.

She was distracted enough by it that she’d stopped talking, but now that all she’s doing is waiting to cook, it’s coming back. At least she’s a little quieter, and does the favour of being quiet until a batch of cooked bacon that’s only mildly burnt (it’s easy, okay, she’s not a professional) is plonked down before Bei, who’s been fidgeting.

Alright, she’s fine. Normal. Mostly! Bei eats and almost immediately tears up shoving a piece of bacon into their mouth, as if it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for them, and that makes Laurel feel a whole host of things all over again. Eurgh!

Their heart is full of… stuff? Feelings? It’s gross, whatever it is, and Laurel slaps another batch of bacon on the frying pan. “I can’t believe this whole time you were just sitting there and eating whatever without even saying it sucks. There’s a limit to being polite! If you can’t do it for you, think about how embarrassed I am, since I’ve apparently been feeding you shit and calling myself a host. You’re allowed to tell me the bacon sucks, too, I know it’s burnt, don’t lie.” And there’s the open explanation (in part) for this whole tirade, that she’s embarrassed that she never asked or knew, and now even more so that she’s not even good at cooking something as simple as bacon! For her friend! Argh! Shitty hosting, this is! Being embarrassed is the worst! The worst! Even redirecting it to this ridiculous reaction isn’t helping.

Bah! Laurel flips the bacon with an exaggerated grumble. The betrayal… the lying and making her think she has her shit together with having friends over even in Chaldea… it was all false! Couldn’t even do the basis of providing good snacks. “You!” She points the tongs she’s using accusingly at Bei, which is lacking threat mostly because the stove is separated from the seating area by an island and decent distance. She’s within ranting range, not accurate throwing tongs range. “Do you even like tea? Don’t be polite to save my feelings, give me a solid yes or no as to if the tea I give you is shit.”

Saying it was shit would probably make her even more exasperated, but she would follow through and procure better supplies. Laurel is nothing if not dedicated. At least this time, Bei nods quickly (hopefully not still lying to make her less whatever-she-is-right-now). They swallow a little too fast, hold back a cough, and nod again. “Yes! Yes. Don’t worry. Your tea is great. You don’t oversteep it and there’s always sugar on hand, so it’s good.”

Hmm. A moment, then: “Okay! I’ll take that!” Good enough, she’s going to take that as honest and pin her continuing pride on it. Good enough to keep Laurel from continuing to talk shit while she cooks. Bei’s free to go back to eating whatever she puts in front of them, including the burnt things. Laurel is, quite frankly, impressed.

She manages to cook the entire pack of bacon before she takes a break, and stops by sitting on the table next to Bei, watching them scarf food. They still look emotional about it and once they’re done they turn to her with eyes large, already stumbling out a thanks for her. Laurel just sighs, leans slightly against them so her face isn’t easily seen. “God, dude, you’re just so fucking… sad.” That’s probably not a good thing to say out loud. Redefine, clarify: “I don’t mean it like, pitiable or anything, you just. I used to be a pretty fucked up kid, y’know? You remind me of me when I was real little, before I turned into an angry bastard, only you’re even worse off, where I don’t think I can even say that we compare. And it makes me so sad.”

Everybody’s so fucked up. Especially here. Laurel’s got nothing on this and she doesn’t even know what ‘this’ is exactly, but there’s so many stories with Servants that make her feel like she can’t even claim she relates to some fucked-up-childhood story. But here she is. Probably projecting. Still, right now she sees somebody who was at some point told ‘hey. You don’t get to ask for things. You don’t get to have people who love you,’ and she can’t let that sit.

She can at least give this stupid idiot magic cat-goblin as much meat as they can fit in their body. “Y’know. I haven’t told anyone in Chaldea this, but like.” Why’s she talking. Laurel doesn’t even know, it just keeps happening. But it’s fair, right? She clicks her tongue. “Growing up for me sucked, and I have a baby brother back home. Well, not baby, he’s thirteen. I’d do anything for that brat and he knows it. It’s a lot, and dangerous, to get around my other blood relatives, and I miss him like a motherfucker— two birthdays he’s had where I couldn’t call him now, and it breaks my heart— but it’s because I decided I wasn’t gonna let anybody I care about get stepped all over or hurt because of their position. I don’t want kids growing up like I did. You acting like that, like you get stepped all over, and then letting me not even do the basics of feeding you properly while you’re saying shit like ‘it’s fine, I’m happy with the bare minimum’, it just makes me…”

She gestures vaguely trying to find the words. Nothing comes up, and she frowns at middle distance in annoyance at its lack of helping her. “Argh! It’s sad! You know what I mean.” Good enough! It’s not eloquent. She tugs Bei’s head over into a hug where she can rest her cheek against the top of their head, speaking in a grumble. “Just, look, you’re allowed to speak your piece to me and if anyone ever hurts you I’ll kill ‘em.”

Laurel lets that sit for a moment or two, still not letting Bei go. They can go back to eating in a second, she’s having a moment, by which she means she needs to recover from the earlier moment and act like nothing happened. There’s a sniffing sound. Man, she really hasn’t said any of that shit out loud to anyone but Ash back home…. That’s wild. “Don’t tell anybody I have feelings or I’ll smack you,” she mutters, completely not serious but still sounding a bit miffed at having said feelings, before she lets Bei go and steps back.

Inhale. Exhale. Hands go to her hips. Recovered! Back to being fun and pretty and not feeling weak things like sadness or embarrassment. “That’s enough of me being a sap. Not my best look. Alright. You like fish? I can cook the hell out of some salmon. How ‘bout eggs? Do those count as carnivorous food? They’re protein, yeah?” Back to chatter and back to the stove. She’ll cook until Bei’s full (and some for herself) or tells her to stop, it’s fine. She can do that! Regain her ‘being a good host’ title.

#mun writes #misc : laurel #drabble : laurel