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yiga-hellhole · 6 months

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TFTK Extended Cut: CHAPTER 3: SYNCYTIUM SANCTUM

HIIII EVERYONE I'M BACK! i couldn't help myself but make Yuganon real. i've been teasing the ship in-fic but it's time to stop beating around the bush and give those old men their own chapter.

this time, it's another bathhouse chapter, but yuga meets a little someone else than his other bathmates... old feelings from a previous life come bubbling back to the surface, and Lorule's diva has no choice but to shoot his shot. 6k words under the cut!

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It was a late night. Yuga was taking the evening off… What was left of it, at least. As usual, his co-lieutenant, Ghirahim, seemed eager to burn nearly all his candles in posing before his canvas. The young man was so ethereally beautiful, he hadn’t even minded all the time he was taking up in his schedule. On the contrary; he’d grown so obsessed with the demon’s finely polished features, he simply couldn’t get enough of him. This premature severing of their arrangement was only in concern for his health, really. His back and shoulders were killing him, bringing about the kind of ache that only being dunked in hot water could relieve.

Moonlight nearly bounced off his pearly skin as he passed through the corridors. He had his satchel of various grooming implements slung over his shoulder and a towel wrapped around his body. He was expecting privacy, as the baths were usually empty at this hour. At least, he hadn’t encountered anyone when rinsing the paint stains off. He didn’t mind the occasional witness. His form was immaculate, after all! But the attendants remained flustered around his appearance. Somewhere, they must have recognized him as another male Gerudo and never were two at once supposed to occur. He preferred they thought him an odd, flat-chested lady, instead.

Humming a cheerful tune, the sounds of his approach bounced off the stone walls. In his time here, he’d already put together a routine of all his little favorite spots, and he was finally heading towards the pinnacle of it.

He passed under blue mosaic lanterns, making the already cool light ever colder. Sheer drapes covering the windows to the courtyard brushed his skin as he walked by. Finally, he turned the last corner he needed to get to the baths.

Only to find, after stumbling upon nobody at all the entire evening, that the pool was thoroughly occupied. Seated inside, with massive arms resting upon the edge of the bath, was none other than Ganondorf. From the way he looked up at him from behind fuzzy eyebrows and heavy lids, he’d long heard him coming.

“I do beg your pardon, Milord,” Yuga stammered, adjusting the towel wrapped around his chest in a fluster. “I wasn’t aware this bath was occupied. I will be taking my leave-“

In an instant, he was silenced by the Demon King’s hand, as it rose from the water as he spoke. “The palatial bathhouse accommodates far more than one man at a time, Lord Yuga. I don’t demand otherwise,” he rumbled. “Your presence does not displease me. Come, sit.”

Yuga hesitated for but a moment, eyes wide and hands clasped before his chest. In that split second of nerves, his painter’s eye drew in far more detail than he would normally allow himself. Ganondorf’s hand, now free of its gauntlet, sported sandstone-hued skin on the palm that bled into bronze. Richly calloused was its surface, patterned with grooves and padded muscle. His gaze wandered from his hand to his arm, with muscles like cannonballs under his skin even when relaxed. Straying ever further, he spotted little water droplets caught in the coarse, red hair that adorned his skin, like dew upon the morning grass. A hulking chest nearly the size of a wine barrel protruded from the water, each breath sending soft ripples out into the rest of the bath.

But what drew him far quicker were the Gerudo’s eyes. Their piercing gold snagged his attention. His gaze could no longer stray further than the skin around those eyes, wrinkled by age, sun, and decades of turmoil. He was truly a King of all kings, the paragon of all that had ever sat upon a throne. Yuga was powerless to move, much less look away.

At least, not until Ganondorf turned his hand, and beckoned him gently. As if tugged by the collar, he stumbled slightly forward and made his way to the edge of the bath. The slapping of his slippers echoed across the water. He came to a halt next to the King, whose massive arms were now leaning casually on the edge of the bath.

Dared he sit next to him?

Never was he one to be in any measure insecure about his figure, but in the presence of a man whose arm alone could rival his entire torso in size, he found himself a bit hesitant to get into his usual routine. Ganondorf was his counterpart, in a way, yet he felt awfully outmatched in his presence.

Hesitation faded quickly. The mass of vibrant orange hair at his feet shifted. Ganondorf tipped his head back, one of his furrowed-shut eyes cracking open to look up at him. He didn’t need to speak to get his words across; Yuga understood perfectly. It was about time he stopped dilly-dallying restlessly behind him, and joined at his side.

And so, he sat beside him, just a hand’s breadth or two between his thigh and the Gerudo’s elbow that rested nearby. Yuga’s decision to only as much as dip his feet in the water seemed to puzzle him, but he paid it no mind. He was just a touch too apprehensive about joining him in the water still, finding the prospect of bathing together too bold to suggest. Finally, he undid the tie of his towel around his chest, and let it drop on the tiles below him.

The towel on his head was next. Still damp from his earlier bath, his hair dropped heavily on his now bare shoulders, long enough to drape past his chest and cover him in nymph-like fashion. He peeked past the crack of his eyelids, only to find Ganondorf paying him no heed. In some ways, it irked him, but overwhelmingly, it relieved him of the pressure to put up appearances. So instead, he began to hum softly and retrieved a ceramic jar from his satchel. Fingers bundled together, he retrieved a thick scoop from its insides. The sharp, yet milky scent of the globby cream tingled his nostrils once he rubbed it between his hands. Those same greased, slippery fingers now dragged their way through his hair, squeezing the wet strands between them. By the time he opened his second container, Ganondorf perked up.

“More coconut?” he asked, a brow raised but his eyes remaining closed in leisure.

Yuga laughed, rinsing his hands in the water before massaging the next cosmetics onto his cheeks. “Indeed. The other stuff is far too greasy on my skin.”

Ganondorf grunted, now turning his head to look at him. “I was under the assumption you’d already washed up before you came here. Your hair was wet when you arrived.”

“Oh, I did,” he proclaimed, deftly rubbing the lotion into the negligible bags under his eyes. “My routine is just a little on the intensive side. I’m getting on in age, after all, and I’d much prefer to do so in good health and appearance.”

Ganondorf’s curiosity warmed up into amusement. The corners of his mouth tugged into a grin, baring his magnificently white teeth just a touch. “You sound just like the governesses. Why you choose to visit the bathhouse in their absence is beyond me. They would make for fine company for you.”

He snickered a little, unable to think of a retort, but quickly latched on to the opportunity to learn more about his companion. “Not for you, then, Milord? I assume you, too, came tonight looking for peace.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t mind the company. My Sisters are too shy about bathing with me, and I find myself reluctant to join my other lieutenants. They are far too rambunctious for this place of calm.”

Yuga cackled in response. “Oh, I do so know what you mean. I join them on occasion, but… The spirit of youth, it makes them too wild.”

A hum rumbled out from Ganondorf, followed by a somewhat exasperated nod. He looked out over the water again, allowing a silence to fall. The sound of running water had barely settled in his ears before he spoke again, regaining that dominant tone he always carried. “How do you fare with your fellow commanders?”

“I fare with them swimmingly, Sire. They are beautiful and strong. I’ve grown quite fond of them, over time,” he said, smiling fondly. “In the future, I do hope you will station me with them.”

He nodded again, thoughtfully this time, fiddling with his fingers dipped in the water. “I see. I will have to consider it.”

As he sat lathering himself in scented oils, Ganondorf simply lounged beside him, resting against the edge of the bath and lavishing in the hot water. Soon, he would come to find that calm infectious. He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands behind him, and swished his legs idly in the water. Steam rose from the turquoise water in a haze. Droplets from the moisture coursed down the brightly tiled walls around them, and Yuga found some sticking to his oiled skin, too. A single sigh loosened them, letting them run down his chest and pool down into his lap. His eyes wandered back to the man who sat next to him, as they were bound to do in the presence of such splendor.

Something stirred in him. He wasn’t sure if it was the dampness of the air that tightened his chest, or something else that clouded his judgment, as he was once again overcome with the need to fuss over him. That beautiful, fiery mane was washed, certainly, but its tips hung carelessly behind him and dipped into the water. Just the thought of split tips on such a well-groomed, noble man was enough to make his skin crawl. He couldn’t stand for it. Not after all that time he spent admiring it, hoping to comb his fingers through!

He cleared his throat softly. “… Milord, if I may be so bold…”

Ganondorf didn’t turn to look at him. “Speak.”

There truly was no subtle way to put this, so he chose the other pathway that always led him right to the King’s favor. Flattery. “Your magnificent locks have drawn my eye for months now, and now that we’re already washing up together… Might I take it upon myself to care for it?”

Ganondorf laughed softly, a mere whisper compared to his usual booming voice, but even this resounded enough for Yuga to feel it deep in his chest. “Care for it?”

He nodded. “Indeed, Milord. I would be honored if you let me braid it.”

For a moment, Ganondorf hummed, weighing his words. “An intriguing offer. Very well, do what you will,” he decided, but not without turning his head ever so slightly to look at him from a side-eye. “But do not let this get out of hand, Yuga. I am aware of your penchant for getting lost in your craft, and I cannot linger too long.”

Yuga deigned to comment with a bit of a giggle and scooted over to sit behind him. A sea of vibrant red hair puffed out before him, ever so slightly relaxed by dampness. Truly, the world was at his fingertips here, and he didn’t waste another second. He ran his fingers through his hair, testing it for knots, but was pleasantly surprised to find that Ganondorf had already taken care of the worst of it when washing it. Fortunately so, as he wasn’t exactly keen on the thought of annoying his King by getting caught in his hair.

The dreaded Demon King uncharacteristically relaxed under his touch as he kneaded into his hair with a towel, trying to get most of the moisture out from his waving locks. The last thing he wanted was to end up damaging that which he sought to cherish, he thought to himself, parting the mass into sections, comb in hand. His Master didn’t speak, but Yuga didn’t mind it. The room was quiet, save for the sound of running water, or the gentle scrape of sand being whisked across the courtyard tiles outside by the desert winds. But above it all, tantalizingly subtle, and only heard through his will to listen to it, was the soughing of Ganondorf’s breath. Slow, deep, and rhythmic. If Yuga didn’t know any better, he would almost think he felt comfortable around him.

Thick strands, soft and slippery as silk weaved into twists between his fingers, leaving his hands damp and smelling faintly of orange blossom and sandalwood. The realization almost made him shiver — this Ganon was a refined man. He was strong, merciless, and relished in carnage, but wasted no time after his return to groom himself back to perfection. The blood of the Hyruleans stained his hands, certainly, but never would it besmirch his armor.

And here sat Yuga, tending to that very being of glory. The mere inches between Ganondorf’s back and his own bare torso were by far not enough to diminish the heat radiating off of the massive man. His skin felt warm, and they needn’t even touch. It mattered not; he preferred it like this. He preferred the opportunity to watch his handiwork, thick hair flowing through his fingers like liquid fire. Bit by bit, the braiding of his hair parted the curtain on the dark bronze skin of the Demon King’s back, and he had to stifle a gasp. So finely sculpted! Such beautiful musculature, packed with shining, nourished skin! Were he not warm, moving, and breathing right before him, he would have mistaken his back for a statue. Further down that back, he was elegantly furred by wispy red, the same shade of vermillion as his hair.

How long he must have paused to gawk at him, he didn’t know. He similarly didn’t notice when one of his hands left its braiding duty and reached out to him with quivering fingers. Oh, how indeed, he longed to trace his fingers along the contours of his back! But the subject of his fancies turned his head ever so slightly, likely puzzled by the sudden freezing of his attendant.

“Is there a problem?” he inquired, his tone impossible to discern beyond its strength.

Yuga chuckled a little nervously, quickly busying himself again with the central braid. “On the contrary, Milord,” he tittered, hoping his touch of playfulness would grant him mercy.

And grant him, it did, indeed. Ganondorf exhaled an amused hum, before looking out in front of him again. Shoulders braced against the edge of the bath, he sighed a satisfied breath, before sinking further down into the bath. Yuga could see the top of his head now, with the hints of his bushy eyebrows and his angular, aquiline nose peeking into view. It made him a little flustered. He’d spent so long committing that face to memory, that to be this close to it now made him childishly giddy.

He quickly cast his excitement aside. His King was letting his guard down around him, trusting him not to disturb their peace. He ought not to ruin it with his eagerness to ogle. So comfortably, he lounged with him. Certainly, he couldn’t pose a threat to Ganondorf if he wanted to, and that knowledge was mutual. Still, to be allowed to groom him in this way, and to find the man’s eyes gently shut with his back turned to him… It was terribly familiar. Did he trust the other lieutenants like this? Or did perhaps, somewhere inside him, a chime of recognition ring out..?

He didn’t dare be so bold as to ask, though. For the time being, he was privileged enough to be able to touch him and weave his soft, wild locks into the most beautiful braids. with the right and central braids now finished, he moved to the last one on his left. “I’m almost finished,” he hummed, hoping to catch his attention.

Ganondorf breathed steadily, tilting his head obediently at his mechanisms. Long he dawdled, leaving Yuga in the agonizing, awaiting silence of dwelling in his thoughts. He wanted to confer with him.

The first steps to his wish being fulfilled were taken. A heat spread to the Demon King’s ears. “Something about you is familiar, Yuga.”

Yuga let out an inquisitive ‘oh’, prompting him to continue. Was this it? The moment he finally recognized him, and everything their bond entailed?

“This must not be the first time you’ve tended to me like this.”

Twisting the final strands into place, Yuga smiled, his chest puffing at the churning of his heart. “No, Milord, it certainly is not.”

His breath left him in a wistful sigh. He seized this moment, and all his self-control melted before him like snow in the early spring sun. “Is my touch familiar? I do hope I’ve left an impression. Though, for you, it must have been centuries, and many lives in-between. For me… It has been mere months.”

He took all three braids into his hands now, beholding them fondly. With the delicacy of handling embroidered silks, he felt himself getting a little lost in his admiration as he rolled the thick braids into a bun at the back of Ganondorf’s head. Though he’d brought them with the intent of using them in his own hair, he retrieved a handful of shining brass pins and stuck them into the heavy mass to hold it together. It couldn’t be anything less than perfection.

“You look and act much different, but it changes nothing in the ways I care for you. Perhaps I can jog your memory…”

Fingers tickled past his hairline and ‘round his neck, delicately gliding past smooth tendon and muscle. The contact finally shook Ganondorf out of his statuesque poise, and he craned his head back. Eyes wide, brows raised incredulously, and ears and nose flushed dark, the Gerudo’s composure had been shattered.

Yuga’s thumbs strayed, stroking through his King’s beard. The drops of water that caught there now rolled down his hands, following his trajectory down to rest his palms on his shoulders. "Do you remember our time together, my King? How we lingered conjoined, much like this?"

Ganondorf could only blink in response, his lips stiffening as he held back a swallow.

Never could Yuga think that he’d exert such control over him, to be the one capturing his fancy. He had to dig deeper, starting with tenderly squeezing the skin at the nape of his neck. “My voice, my hands, my eyes? How our bodies pressed together before we became one?”

That stare was intoxicating, addictive. It made the air around him thick enough to carve through. All timidness, all apprehension he once had, left him at once. Yuga spread his fingers, eager to touch as much of him as he could, as his hands slipped forward. Coarse, wet hair that sprawled over Ganondorf’s torso caught between his fingers and he sucked a gasp in with a shudder. The Gerudo did not break eye contact, but there was tension in him that only increased the further Yuga’s hands wandered. They crossed the threshold of his collarbone, until finally, he could lean over him, his palms rested on his chest. The muscles of his pectorals were firm, bulky, and softly wrapped around what may as well have been solid stone. No matter how his wet skin glistened in the candlelight, or how the red hair on his chest curled pleasingly around his fingers, or how charming piercings looked on him, nothing could rip his eyes away from the Demon King’s face. Nothing could match the red that crept up on his cheeks, how his fluster widened his eyes to show more pale white sclera than he’d ever seen on them. His blush darkened his skin, but showed most notably on his ears and the skin stretched taut over his curved nose. Yuga’s chest caved as his breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t help himself but lean closer. Greed of the eyes overtook him. He wanted to see more of it, to watch that hue deepen the richness of his skin, to watch as his red lashes fluttered shut and —

Suddenly, a palm lay over one of his hands, its heat distracting him from his spiral of admiration. Ganondorf was scrambling to regain his composure. “Your hands are frigid. Join me in the water.”

“Milord, I-“

A soft cry escaped him as Ganondorf’s gargantuan hand wrapped around his arm and dragged him to the edge of the bath. Another hand hooked its way around his armpit, and with the ease as one would handle a burlap doll, he was seated next to him in the bath.

He sat there, somewhat flabbergasted by how he’d just been manhandled. Water lapped at his chin; the seating was more accommodating to the much taller Gerudo, and not built for petite wizards such as himself. Hands curled sheepishly in his lap, he rose somewhat to instead sit on his knees, hoping to raise himself at a bit more dignified height above the water.

Yuga cleared his throat, eyes darting at his reflection. Curses! His facial cream only made his fluster that much more shiny and obvious. "... Forgive me, I must have crossed a boundary."

Ganondorf cleaned his throat, seemingly pointedly leaving his arm to brush past his’ underwater. "Nonsense. If it is intimacy you desire, then I only ask you to engage it with hands that aren't so frightfully cold."

He paused, lingering on the implications of his words. Admittedly, he got a bit carried away, and to find his admiration not only appreciated, but reciprocated… Ganondorf may not have answered the questions that burned so brightly in his mind, but his actions spoke volumes. Where the man’s mind failed him, his body and soul filled in. Had Yuga been any other person, he did not doubt that he would have been brutally dismissed for his advances. The tether that connected them had gained another string, and he found himself playfully plucking at it.

Still, he ought to exercise some care. The last thing he wanted was for this new connection to be forged with nerves, and he’d already pushed his buttons a bit too much.

“Of course, how inconsiderate of me,” he muttered, eyes continuously downcast. Uncertain of how to proceed, he momentarily excused himself. He arrived at these baths for a reason, after all, and so he stood up, a final bottle of soap in hand, and waded his way to the center of the bath.

Mid-thigh height to most of the bath’s attendees, the water level offered Yuga significantly more concealment. It rose to his upper abdomen, right at the tender skin below his sternum, and hid the rest of him in the green-tinted water. He was thankful for it, really. It kept the eyes from wandering.

He dipped his head down once, dipping his locks in the water. He ran his fingers through the well-oiled strands until they flared back out, floating gently on the surface like tendrils. A sigh escaped him as he rose, water rushing down from his hair and across his torso. Brushing the long, darkened mass away from his face, he got a bit of an inkling that he was being watched.

Indeed, Ganondorf appeared to have been mulling over the events of just earlier. He needn’t even look to confirm it. He could hear it from the way he breathed, but most of all, he felt it in the tension that tended to swallow the room whole when the King was the slightest bit troubled. An amused smirk stretched across his lips, thankfully hidden behind the curtain of his hair. He resigned to simply waiting out the moment Ganondorf wished to confide in him.

That time came sooner than he could get the soap to fizz.

Ganondorf cut through the silence with such striking boldness, it caused Yuga to freeze up. “Were we wed?”

Oh, only the Demon King himself could stomach such a topic with such nonchalance! A spot of admiration overtook him again, as he found himself marveling at the simultaneous flaw and virtue of his practicality.

“Wed? Ahah, I would argue we were something far more,” he teased, but not without finding himself once again flabbergasted. Even as he stood there, his kayfabe left far behind in the dressing room and his lithe form bared to him, Ganondorf seemingly found the idea of being his spouse perfectly feasible. He wasn’t sure what to think of it.

His counterpart, on the other hand, directed his confusion someplace else. “I ask you not to speak in riddles.”

“We… Became the same being, Milord. As physically as we did symbolically. We had the entirety of Lorule under our clawed thumb. Our thoughts, desires, sensations… All shared, to the point of it feeling strange to be but one man again.”

Yuga stroked his fingers through his curls, massaging the scent of lotus and vanilla blossom into them with soapy bubbles. Head tipped back, he relished in its luxury, but above all, the joy of being admired. The fog of hot water obscured him, embraced him in its warmth, but not enough to break the line of sight between him and his Lord. He ought not to keep him waiting. Soap now settled, he dipped down to rinse himself off, casting the suds away.

Ganondorf crossed his arms, thoughtfully staring into the rippling of the water and the soapy clouds that drifted toward him. “I see.”

“Of course, such a strategy will not hold when I am needed elsewhere in the war. I’ve long given up on sharing that bond with you again, but,” he paused, hesitating for just a moment. Was he being too forward? Oh, out with it. He stood back up. “It brings me joy to see you again, and talk intimately.”

Ganondorf’s expression turned back to his usual scowl, though something contemplative, or possibly even nervous, tugged at his laugh lines. “… If you wish to rekindle this romance, you must allow me time to consider.”

Yuga gasped, whipping his head around quickly enough to send water flying off the ends of his curls in a spiral. “A romance? Oh, no! Nothing ever so drastic,” he assured, his hands clasped at his chest. “If that is what you worry about, you needn’t fret over it. I’ve no desire for such commitment.”

He looked at him a touch puzzled. To Yuga’s relief, the crease on his forehead softened some. The man shifted in his seat, sending ripples through the water. “Then what is it that you want?”

Yuga shivered as the gentle waves in the water lapped at the edge of his ribcage. What did he want? He looked at the man in front of him, as if he’d been doing anything but gaze at him ever since he first entered this room. Ganondorf was a stranger, yet he was not. Somewhere within him, the beast he’d known still lurked, but instead of a hulking boar, with tusks like scythes and skin like steel, there sat by all means a Human. One that had lived a life much like his own, a mortal being before his sealing, whose years of glory and turmoil were chronicled on his aging yet sculpted body. When he last saw him in that previous life, it had been through their combined eyes, and now, they were apart. Agonizingly so, almost, but not irreversibly. The water around him was a conduit, a tether for him to hold onto that bound him to his King.

He turned to face him, carefully combing the last soap from his hair, before wading towards him. The closer he got to him, with his frail form, the more miniscule he felt before the towering Demon King. “… I wish to be close to you, enough to admire you, to understand you, as I once did.”

And yet, despite that immense size, and the power that surged through his veins, it was his humanity that brought them peerdom. Ganondorf gazed at him wordlessly, too prideful to avert his gaze but too flustered to sit unchallenged. “You are quite forward in your answers, Yuga,” he rumbled, scratching at the edge of his beard.

“When you ask me questions, King Dragmire, I feel compelled to answer them in truth,” he smiled, folding his arms. “Of course, if it displeases you, I could be more reserved.”

Ganondorf raised his hand in response. “There is no need. It is quite becoming on you,” he laughed in admittance. To Yuga’s joy, something playful crossed his expression. “I suppose I have simply become accustomed to court officials dancing around what they actually wish to convey.”

What Ganondorf didn’t know was that he, too, was one such competitively vague court advisor by trade. He simply could never lie to him if he tried. Bashfully, he brought a hand to his face, yet he felt not as small as he once did, standing so close before him. “Your praise humbles me.”

Ganondorf cocked his head with a wry smile and propped himself against the edge of the tub. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

Oh, how that grin emboldened him. So quickly they understood each other again and dropped them back into familiar comfort. Had he truly known this iteration for mere months? Thinking about it, he’d moved far quicker with his last incarnation. Just the thought of it made him itch to glue himself to him again.

“… Milord, may I?” he asked, his hand gingerly reaching out to the Gerudo’s arm.

Ganondorf looked somewhat skeptically at where he was pointing and furrowed his brows in thought. Still, he seemed to think it was harmless enough. “By all means.”

Yuga smiled in return, immediately wading his way over to take his seat next to him. Ganondorf looked on in perturbed fascination as frail arms hooked their way around his elbow. He was already being much too bold, but the Lorian found he didn’t quite care. His manicured fingers found their way up his arm either way and squeezed adoringly at the bicep.

“Your past self never let me do this,” he laughed, playfully scooting in. “He would scold me.”

Ganondorf blinked down at him, before turning away with a subtle smirk, his ears tinging just the slightest red. “I wonder why.”

Yuga paid his teasing no mind. As fondly as studiously, his fingers traced along the grooves of his muscles, catching on every little detail to carefully rub the pad of his fingers on it. He could see it now — this arm, no, his entire physique, would come to haunt the pages of his sketchbook for weeks. But he had to do so accurately, he couldn’t settle for anything less than perfection for his Master. He would have to commit everything to memory, from his tattoos, to his scars, to his veins to his birthmarks, everything, everything —

A soft hoot rang from across the hall, snapping Yuga out of his trance. The two men turned simultaneously to the source of the sound. Stood frozen at the entrance of the room was Zant, wide-eyed and caught off guard. Upon being spotted, his lips unpursed themselves, and he turned right back around to slip away.

“What’s gotten into you,” scolded a pompous voice from beyond the wall soon after, the owner of which would himself round the corner. Ghirahim gasped as soon as he saw the scene before him, but unlike his companion, he immediately bowed apologetically. “I do beg your pardon for intruding on your private affairs, My Master!” he stammered, surprisingly red-faced. It was quite a flattering color on him, but from the way he dressed, Yuga was certain he knew that.

The Blade, too, quickly made his leave, though not without bursting into a fit of hushed bickering and giggling with his bath-mate.

Lovely creatures.

Still taken aback by the shenanigans that unfurled before them, the pair remained silent for a moment. At least, until a scoffing laugh escaped past Ganondorf’s lips behind him.

“That… Is going to have consequences, I think,” Yuga murmured, covering his mouth with his hand in embarrassment.

“It will not, if they know what’s good for them,” Ganondorf growled, eyes still fixed on the entryway.

Silence fell on the pair again, though the awkwardness of having been discovered soon faded. Instead, it turned to fondness. He found himself struck by how quickly the two of them took comfort in each others’ company, and how naturally they slotted into one another. The warmth of Ganondorf’s shoulder practically melted him as he laid his cheek against him. He wasn’t certain if the other man was simply humoring him in his advances, or if he, too, sought intimacy in the approximation of a peer.

Quickly, he decided he would rather chew up every last soap bottle in his satchel than ask him and find out.

Another question ate at him, though, and he found this one was far more pressing to hunt for answers for. “Milord, if I may ask…”

“You may.”

He dawdled, picking at the skin at the edge of his nails. “Are these… Nightly baths, perhaps, a habit of yours?”

In an instant, he got Ganondorf to smile. His laugh shook his shoulders, lightly shaking Yuga along with him. “Bold thing. You wish to join me in the baths again?”

Yuga laughed with him heartily, but he still felt himself blush in embarrassment. “Oh! I thought to be a touch more subtle.”

Ganondorf’s nose crinkled with his teasing grin. “Your attempt was unsuccessful. Now answer,” he asserted.

Yuga paused, his fluster making him shrink just a bit. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would be delighted to spend time with you outside of the war room,” he smiled, hugging his arm just a little tighter to his bony chest.

Ganondorf smiled. “Very well, then,” he rumbled. His hand reached out to him, and a thick, calloused thumb stroked across his cheekbone. A wet streak from a stray strand of hair snaked past his skin, finally reaching the edge of his face, before his King tucked it ever so gently behind his ear. He couldn’t keep his eyes off that smile.

The man continued. “I will send for a summoning, next time I wish for your company. You’ve made me curious about you, Yuga. Consider it a compliment.”

Ganondorf rose, water cascading from his form like a waterfall. Yuga’s gaze stayed locked with his as he stood up, but he couldn’t help but steal glances at what was decidedly more at his eye level. His stomach, his thighs, equally riddled with hair and battle scars, and so lovely in their soft, rounded musculature.

Well, he shouldn’t displease him with his ogling. He loomed forward a little, leaning into the touch of the hand that lingered on his face. So warm, yet so firm… That hand now retracted ever so slowly, though the ardency in the Lorian’s hooded eyes never left as he kept his sights hooked on those vibrant gold irises.

Pleased with such devotion, such eagerness for his attention, Ganondorf smiled. “I am turning in for the night. Do not linger too long, Lord of Lorule. You are expected in my office at sunrise.”

Yuga could only manage a nod, his mouth feeling too dry and stuffy to manage any words. That touch had been the nail in the coffin, the scissors to the last drawstring of his composure. The Demon King was far too much of a treat to the senses, he thought to himself as he watched him leave. He drank in every little detail he could spy while he still could, leaning against the edge of the tub as if those few inches of closeness made any difference at all to his perception. When the Gerudo’s towering form finally rounded the corner and went out of sight, it felt like a spell had been lifted.

Oh, certainly, the crushing desire to behold him had lifted, but the connection he’d now forged with this incarnation sparked something else. Now more than ever, he felt incomplete being just one man and longed for the company of someone else in his body and soul.

He sank back into the water, bubbles leaving his lips in a sigh. Oh, Yuga. Once again, you’ve gotten yourself caught in something truly beautiful…

#beararts #bearwrites #yuganon #yuga albw #ganondorf #tloz #hyrule warriors #yuga #tis a joyous yuga wednesday you all #suggestive #tftk

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vavaclasses · 10 days

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Cell Cycle and Cell Division Class 11 Important Notes for NEET Biology

Introduction to Cell Cycle and Cell Division

Cell cycle and cell division are fundamental processes governing the growth, development, and reproduction of all living organisms. Understanding these processes is crucial in the field of biology as they play a pivotal role in shaping life at both the cellular and organismal levels.

Cell Cycle:

The cell cycle is the series of events that occur in a cell leading to its division and duplication of its DNA to produce two daughter cells. It consists of distinct phases, each with specific functions and checkpoints to ensure accurate progression. Through the cell cycle, cells grow, replicate their genetic material, and divide to give rise to new cells. This process is tightly regulated and orchestrated by various molecular mechanisms to maintain cellular integrity and functionality.

Cell Division:

Cell division is the process by which a parent cell divides into two or more daughter cells. It is essential for growth, tissue repair, and reproduction in multicellular organisms. Two main types of cell division are mitosis and meiosis. Mitosis ensures the faithful distribution of genetic material to daughter cells, resulting in the production of genetically identical cells. Meiosis, on the other hand, is a specialized form of cell division that produces haploid gametes for sexual reproduction, introducing genetic variation into offspring.

Significance:

The study of cell cycle and cell division is crucial for understanding various biological phenomena, including development, differentiation, aging, and disease. Dysregulation of these processes can lead to developmental abnormalities, cancer, and other pathological conditions. Therefore, unraveling the intricate mechanisms governing the cell cycle and cell division is not only of academic interest but also holds significant implications for medical research and therapeutic interventions.

In these class 11 notes, we will delve into the intricacies of the cell cycle and cell division, exploring the underlying molecular mechanisms, regulatory networks, and physiological significance. By grasping these fundamental concepts, students will gain a deeper understanding of the dynamic nature of life and the remarkable complexity of cellular processes.

Here's a properly formatted version of the important notes on Cell Cycle and Cell Division for NEET Biology:

Difference Between Cell Cycle and Cell Division:

Cell division is crucial for growth, repair, and reproduction, enabling the transformation of a single cell into a multicellular organism.

Cell Cycle:

Consists of cell growth, DNA replication, and division.

Genetically controlled events occur during the cycle.

Duration varies among organisms and cell types.

Divided into Interphase and M phase.

Interphase: Cell growth and DNA replication, constituting 95% of the cycle.

M Phase: Mitosis (cell division).

Interphase:

Three phases: G1, S, G2.

G1 Phase (Gap 1): Precedes DNA replication.

S Phase (Synthesis): DNA replication occurs without changing chromosome number.

G2 Phase (Gap 2): Cell continues growing and prepares for mitosis.

M Phase:

Involves karyokinesis (nuclear division) followed by cytokinesis (cytoplasmic division).

Mitosis:

Mostly occurs in diploid somatic cells of animals.

Ensures genetic continuity and facilitates growth and repair.

Four stages: Prophase, Metaphase, Anaphase, Telophase.

Karyokinesis followed by cytokinesis.

Prophase: Chromosomes condense, mitotic apparatus forms.

Metaphase: Chromosomes align at the metaphase plate.

Anaphase: Sister chromatids separate and move to opposite poles.

Telophase: Chromosomes decondense, nuclear envelope reforms.

Cytokinesis:

Cytoplasmic division following nuclear division.

Syncytium formation may occur in some organisms.

Meiosis:

Also known as reduction division.

Generates haploid gametes during sexual reproduction.

Maintains chromosome number and introduces genetic variation.

Consists of Meiosis I and Meiosis II.

Meiosis I:

Prophase I subdivided into Leptotene, Zygotene, Pachytene, Diplotene, Diakinesis.

Metaphase I: Bivalents align at the equator.

Anaphase I: Homologous chromosomes separate.

Telophase I: Nucleoli reappear, chromosomes collect at poles.

Meiosis II:

Follows interkinesis without DNA replication.

Similar to mitosis, produces haploid daughter cells.

Prophase II, Metaphase II, Anaphase II, Telophase II.

These notes cover the essential concepts of cell cycle and cell division, providing a comprehensive understanding for NEET Biology preparation.

#class 11 #biology #science #botany #class 8 #chemistry #11thclass #11th class #ecology #conservation #zoology #taxonomy #animal behavior #vavaclasses #9thclass #foundation

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autodaemonium · 6 months

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ənilzdlienfnəksɒɪʌku

Pronounced: uhnilzdlienfnuhksouiuku.

Pantheon of: fixedness, radio link, relativity, detergency.

Entities

Irɛnkmlðtotəɪrtpðsɪs

Pronounced: iraynkmlthtotuhirtpthsis Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: despite. Prophecies: education, musical performance, back. Relations: əkfswmrvbvfəityvtʃper (alpha-beta brass).

Nɪzɪɒntrrvrrvwʌtdʒfðb

Pronounced: niziountrrvrrvwutjfthb Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: benediction. Prophecies: scuba diving. Relations: rkuɪɛəpiɪrɛʌpəɪrɒutr (teacher-student relation), ʃɪtnəirsiðkzkltðkmɪw (fur), əzædəttədsæɛdɒlzɒmtð (hydroxyproline), irɛnkmlðtotəɪrtpðsɪs (nicotine).

Rkuɪɛəpiɪrɛʌpəɪrɒutr

Pronounced: rkuiayuhpiirayupuhirouutr Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: execration, pinch. Relations: ŋdyrnsərətətʃɪtpɛərzt (crushed leather), əkfswmrvbvfəityvtʃper (discharge).

Rpəʊəəðʃɪɛəʌðiɪɪæraɪɒ

Pronounced: rpuhoouhuhthshiayuhuthiiiaraiou Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: top dressing, police work. Prophecies: primary censorship, ritual, enlistment, flounce, capitalization. Relations: nɪzɪɒntrrvrrvwʌtdʒfðb (aliphatic compound), ʃɪtnəirsiðkzkltðkmɪw (abbreviation).

Tʃedərɪeetŋkrnɛɪŋɪtgp

Pronounced: tsheduhrieetngkrnayingitgp Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Prophecies: anti-war movement, explosion, lumpectomy, fixation, one-and-one. Relations: irɛnkmlðtotəɪrtpðsɪs (sarcoplasm), uækməofsæɪəlædnɪbbih (employee turnover).

Uækməofsæɪəlædnɪbbih

Pronounced: uakmuhofsaiuhladnibbih Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Prophecies: match-up, quack, investing, sinker, dispute. Relations: ʃɪtnəirsiðkzkltðkmɪw (syncytium).

Ŋdyrnsərətətʃɪtpɛərzt

Pronounced: ngdyrnsuhruhtuhtshitpayuhrzt Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: convolution. Relations: nɪzɪɒntrrvrrvwʌtdʒfðb (phosphate).

Ɒgʌədtsrzkɑətəɑeaɪɪig

Pronounced: ouguuhdtsrzkahuhtuhaheaiiig Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: intravenous drip, finance, confirmation, repositing, mnemonic. Prophecies: reconnaissance in force, overcapitalization, track record, no ball, sleep-learning. Relations: rpəʊəəðʃɪɛəʌðiɪɪæraɪɒ (shittimwood), irɛnkmlðtotəɪrtpðsɪs (unsaturated fatty acid).

Əkfswmrvbvfəityvtʃper

Pronounced: uhkfswmrvbvfuhityvtshper Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: tsunami. Prophecies: kickoff, malversation, restriction, judgment on the merits. Relations: uækməofsæɪəlædnɪbbih (labial stop), əzædəttədsæɛdɒlzɒmtð (monoamine oxidase), irɛnkmlðtotəɪrtpðsɪs (pulse), rpəʊəəðʃɪɛəʌðiɪɪæraɪɒ (sima).

Əzædəttədsæɛdɒlzɒmtð

Pronounced: uhzaduhttuhdsaaydoulzoumtth Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Legends: crab.

Ʃɪtnəirsiðkzkltðkmɪw

Pronounced: shitnuhirsithkzkltthkmiw Radio Link: walkie-talkie. Prophecies: interdiction fire, debilitation, onrush, galanty show. Relations: əzædəttədsæɛdɒlzɒmtð (paris green), əkfswmrvbvfəityvtʃper (north northwest), uækməofsæɪəlædnɪbbih (homestead).

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dritalotto · 2 years

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Muscle spindle

Perimysium is a slightly thicker layer of connective tissue consisting mainly of type I and III collagen and surrounds a group of fibers. It is made up of a delicate layer of reticular fibers and permits only small-diameter nerve fibers and capillaries, thus acting as a site of metabolic exchange. Endomysium surrounds individual muscle fibers. There are three types of connective tissue sheaths named for their location. Skeletal muscle tissue is made up of a collection of muscle fibers wrapped in connective tissue sheaths. They have a small amount of cytoplasm and because of their locations can sometimes be mistaken for skeletal muscle cell nuclei. Satellite cells are precursors to skeletal muscle cells and are responsible for the ability of muscle tissue to regenerate. They are accompanied by satellite cells between the external lamina and sarcolemma. Nuclei of skeletal muscle tissue are oval-shaped and located at the periphery of the cell. Because the cells are fused and multinucleated, they form a structural syncytium. This fusion results in a characteristic multinucleated structure. Skeletal muscle tissue develops through the fusion of individual myoblasts, or early muscle cells. Under a microscope, sarcomeres give skeletal muscle a striated appearance. The actin and myosin filaments making up the myofibrils are organized into sarcomeres. Myofibrils are rod shaped subunits of muscle cells. In contrast, muscle fibers making up the stapedius, a small muscle of the inner ear, are only a few millimeters in length. In the anterior thigh, a muscle fiber may be a meter long. The length of a skeletal muscle fiber varies by location. Individually, skeletal muscles cells are referred to as muscle fibers. A muscle fiber may also be referred to as a myofiber. The plasma membrane is called the sarcolemma and the endoplasmic reticulum is called the sarcoplasmic reticulum. The cytoplasm of a muscle cells is referred to as sarcoplasm. Muscle tissue terms often begin with myo-, mys-, or sarco. Special terms are used to describe structures associated with skeletal muscle tissue. Muscular dystrophy, actin aggregate myopathy, myotubular myopathies Place on the sarcolemma where motor fiber synapses with muscle in order to deliver contraction command Neurotransmitter is acetylcholine Perimysium - around multiple muscle fibers -> arranges them in fascicles Type IIb - get energy from anaerobic glicolysis, appear pink, fast-twitch and prone to fatigue Type IIa - get energy from oxidative glicolysis have high amount of glycogen, birhgter than type I, they are fast-twitch and resistant to fatigue Type I - use aerobic metabolysm to function they appear red because of the high amount of myoglobin they are slow-twitch and resestant to fatigue Sarcomere - functional unit (made of actin and myosin)Īccessory proteins - titin, tropomodulin, alpha-actinin, desmin, nebulin, dystrophin, myomesin Sarcomplasmic reticulum - modified endoplasmic reticulum T-tubules - invaginations of sarcolemma that transfer action potentials to the inside of the muscle cell Terminal cisterna - extension of sarcolemma that stores calcium Key facts about the skeletal muscle Function This article will discuss the histology of the skeletal muscle. Extensible tissue can be stretched and elastic tissue is able to return to its original shape following distortion. Skeletal muscle tissue is also extensible and elastic. Contractile tissue is able to generate tension of force. Excitable tissue responds to stimuli through electrical signals. It attaches to bones and the orbits through tendons. Skeletal muscle is an excitable, contractile tissue responsible for maintaining posture and moving the orbits, together with the appendicular and axial skeletons. Striated skeletal muscle, Textus muscularis striatus skeletalis

#Muscle spindle

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jacketcanoe9 · 2 years

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Serious Acalculous Cholecystitis Connected with Alpelisib Strategy to Renal Cellular Carcinoma

Collection research into the package glycoprotein regarding pLWJ showed that a new preserved GPGR theme and an arginine at situation 14 had been seen in your V3 loop, which was in keeping with past reviews concerning CXCR4 co-receptor consumption and syncytium-inducing (Supposrr que) phenotype. As a result, the actual contagious identical copy symbolizes the fast-replicating, high-producing, CXCR4-tropic and also syncytium-inducing identify. In the frequency associated with HIV-1 subtype B' within China, this transmittable clone could be a very useful tool to provide a adaptable molecular design pertaining to analysis concentrating on the biological components of the subtype.Radiation level of resistance #Link# frequently hard disks tumour development. Nevertheless, the root molecular components tend to be inadequately indicated. Epithelial-to-mesenchymal transition may associate with treatments resistance, however the functional url along with signalling pathways continue to be elucidated. Here we report that microRNA-30c, a human breast tumor prognostic marker, includes a pivotal part inside chemoresistance by the primary targeting of the actin-binding health proteins twinfilin 1, which usually promotes epithelial-to-mesenchymal changeover. A good interleukin-6 family member, interleukin-11 is referred to as an extra targeted associated with twinfilin One in your microRNA-30c signalling walkway. Term associated with microRNA-30c inversely fits together with interleukin-11 term within main breasts tumours and occasional interleukin-11 correlates with relapse-free survival inside breast cancers individuals. Our own research shows that microRNA-30c will be transcriptionally regulated through GATA3 inside chest tumours. Recognition of your book microRNA-mediated walkway in which regulates chemoresistance inside cancers of the breast may facilitate the development of fresh healing methods.Proteomics is really a potent application #Link# to know the particular molecular systems inducing the creation of large penicillin titers simply by business strains in the filamentous fungus Penicillium chrysogenum because of pressure advancement packages. Penicillin biosynthesis is a wonderful product method for most various other bioactive microbial metabolites. The current publication in the R. chrysogenum genome has produced the foundation to comprehend the particular molecular processes #Link# root penicillin overproduction. We record the following your proteome reference guide regarding R. chrysogenum Wi 54-1255 (the particular genome undertaking reference pressure) in addition to a good in-depth examine in the modifications created in 3 various stresses on this filamentous fungi through commercial pressure enhancement. Two-dimensional serum electrophoresis, peptide mass fingerprinting, as well as combination bulk spectrometry were utilized regarding necessary protein recognition. About A thousand spots ended up imagined simply by "blue silver" colloidal Coomassie soiling in a non-linear private detective range between 3 in order to 12 with higher quality, that authorized your id associated with 950 protein (549 different protein and isoforms). Comparability one of many cytosolic proteomes in the wild-type NRRL 1951, Wisconsin 541255 (a much better, reasonable penicillin producer), and also AS-P-78 (a penicillin higher company) stresses indicated that global metabolic reorganizations happened during the pressure advancement plan. The main adjustments seen in the top company ranges had been boosts of cysteine biosynthesis (a new penicillin precursor), enzymes in the pentose phosphate process, and also stress reaction healthy proteins along with a decline in virulence along with the biosynthesis of various other supplementary metabolites not the same as penicillin (tones and also isoflavonoids). From the wild-type stress, we all discovered digestive support enzymes to make use of cellulose, sorbitol, and other co2 options that were misplaced from the high penicillin producer traces.

#Trametinib #Alpelisib #Lansoprazole

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honeyleesblog · 2 years

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characteristics of nucleus

nucleus, in biology, a specialized structure occurring in most cells (except bacteria and blue-green algae) and separated from the rest of the cell by a double layer, the nuclear membrane. This membrane seems to be continuous with the endoplasmic reticulum (a membranous network) of the cell and has pores, which probably permit the entrance of large molecules. The nucleus controls and regulates the activities of the cell (e.g., growth and metabolism) and carries the genes, structures that contain the hereditary information. Nucleoli are small bodies often seen within the nucleus. The gel-like matrix in which the nuclear components are suspended is the nucleoplasm.

Because the nucleus houses an organism’s genetic code, which determines the amino acid sequence of proteins critical for day-to-day function, it primarily serves as the information centre of the cell. Information in DNA is transcribed, or copied, into a range of messenger ribonucleic acid (mRNA) molecules, each of which encodes the information for one protein (in some instances more than one protein, such as in bacteria). The mRNA molecules are then transported through the nuclear envelope into the cytoplasm, where they are translated, serving as templates for the synthesis of specific proteins. For more information on these processes, see transcription; translation.

A cell normally contains only one nucleus. Under some conditions, however, the nucleus divides but the cytoplasm does not. This produces a multinucleate cell (syncytium) such as occurs in skeletal muscle fibres. Some cells—e.g., the human red blood cell—lose their nuclei upon maturation. See also cell.

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realhankmccoy · 4 years

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Abil-Shamash, Son of a Sun God

“Duke, I’m so fucking mad that you did this to me. It was a kidnapping, plain and simple, and you have to let me go,” Abil-Shamash was bleating at me. He sounded like a stupid sheep to me.

“Watch your mouth in our household, Abil-Shamash. What you mean to say is that you are absolutely irate with me. Getting you into my hands was a mere abduction. It could not be a kidnapping, for you were a grown man when we honed in on you. Perhaps you are indeed unhappy that I made you into a glistening golden god. I will take that into consideration, but as the day progresses, you’ll most likely start to experience a different set of emotions. For you see, the sun is coming up, and soon you may find a little something special coming up in your jock strap, namely an erection. I can picture its veiny, juicy beauty and your thrill over your newfound sexuality already. And you look just darling in a jock strap, Abil-Shamash. Wouldn’t you like to have a cup of hazelnut coffee with me so that we can discuss your concerns together?”

Indeed, before he had come to me, he had been a stupid sheep. He’d been just another guy chasing a bigger car, a bigger home, a bigger office, a bigger dick, a bigger erection. There was only so much space on earth. Everybody wants to rule the world. Abil-Shamash, before he came to me, could have been any man or everyman, depending upon how you wanted to view his world. He kept occupied with little more than the usual laundry list of keeping his personality nice and normal while checking all the expected boxes. Aside from that, there was his political obsession, which he kept as quiet as he could, but he was born into an era of bitter political divisiveness and, with his simple mind, was unable to avoid watching his chosen news channel and getting worked up.

Abil-Shamash, before he came to me, had been as white as the day was long.

Now he is a glistening golden god. Make no mistake, for in his genetics he remains Caucasian to the core, just as before, and he will never pass for Middle Eastern any more than Jesus will ever pass for white. I can picture him already, sunning himself on the beach in Tel Aviv with me, enjoying the attention of so many men. He will be a worldly man thanks to the connection he’ll have with me. Yes, and now, with the glowing tan that mere mortals so many endless hours towards trying to achieve, many of them trying and failing, some damaging themselves in the process. Abil-Shamash, however, was experiencing the wonders of what advanced science could do. In his bland suburban life such wonders had been both inaccessible and incomprehensible to him. The person he’d been before was eminently predictable, forgettable and not worth dwelling upon.

Why dwell upon such dreadful dullness when Abil-Shamash was here with us today, arisen in radiant form, ready to take on the world and its boundless cornucopias of delight just as much as he would soon be ready to take it up the ass and top any number of panting sluts as their eyes rolled up in their sockets from the sheer magnitude of the bliss that would be registering in their prostates once Abil-Shamash got his big, confident bronze hands up inside them and kissed them, sharing his kiss, which would be sweet with the scent of date beer or the finest of rice milk-infused coffees, depending upon which hour of the day Abil-Shamash decided to start to commence his bedroom oblations.

Soon, indeed, Abil-Shamash’s mass-manufactured, performative personality, so tedious and irksome to me, would start to mutate into something more valuable right before mine very own eyes. If only his vision could be keen enough for him to be able to see his beauty reflected black in the darkness of my pupils as he starts to take on all the qualities that are more befitting of a good. Soon his worries about replacing the wainscotting in older homes and buffing out the scratches of motor vehicles during tune-ups at the dealership would all be over. Soon he would awaken, and then he could start to reign above them all.

Abil-Shamash looked cute when he was angry, I thought. He was too beautiful to look ugly, the way anger is so often ugly upon the faces of others, and I was too powerful to be intimidated by him.

“That’s not my name. My name is Matt, and you’re not the boss of me even after doing this to me. I’m not yours to control. Let me go.”

“The last thing I will be doing is letting you go back to that drab life of utter banality you had been living, in which you seemed to have the pedal to the metal towards the end of a rat race you were bound to lose. Even a victory would just have given you the gout in the end, most likely. Don’t be silly, dear boy. I don’t ever again wish to hear the gridlocked, generic print of a name like Matthew, or worse, the grunt of an even more inferior name such as Matt. You know your new name. All you must do now is awaken.”

“What the hell do you mean by that? This isn’t my body at all. I’m not your sex toy or whatever you think you’re turning me into here.”

"You’ll have to adjust and get used to it, my dear Abil-Shamash,” I was telling him as I poured him another cup of coffee. I was delighted to do so. I felt as though I could pour that cup every morning. A man who’s akin to a god is delighted to let his cup overflow. His strength is constantly permeating through to the universe he’s built. A god is a giver, not a taker, a moulder, not a petty predator or parasite. Even man, weak as man is, must do better than a lion or a termite if he wishes to be so much as mortal man. But a god is much more. I didn’t choose to be called Duke. It was bestowed by one more ancient than me, just as I have bestowed my new brother, Abil-Shamash, with is name. We will love ourselves as much as we love each other, just as the gods all have their consorts in the pantheon of rolling, rollicking life. We will grow together as the sunflowers grow, unrelentingly rotating towards what is truly free. Spilling our seed across the soil, we will be thrilling to witness merely because we have so much to offer.

I was not one of these very small, dominion-oriented types who, internally, must doubt his own masculinity so deeply that he is constantly reaffirming his existence as a real man and all other men as shaved faggots. They ritualise such enslavement and fetishise it again and again to try to convince themselves that the illusion is real, and that the divide is hot. They are strung out upon this fetish for interminable lengths of time because it is never fully convincing. If their purported superiority were ever to become truly felt, the need to ritualistically construct and broadcast it would go away. Hammurabi felt no need to sexually fetishise his own code of ethics, for, inscribed into stone and diorite stelae, it was far more powerful than that.

Objectively, I do understand that the construction of culture and differentiation is a way to enhance and mystify sexual functionalism into a higher realm more akin to the exciting drama of higher beings and lower beings, tall trees and small creepy crawlies, the shaved earthworms, the radiant, golden glistening hair of a moose in its prime, why, one insists upon a world in which to live! Soon, Abil-Shamash would understand too.

“That’s not my name!” he said, sounding just like a sheep again. I wanted to ‘baaa’ in his face, and the thought of that filled me with delight. A sheep is a sheep is a sheep, I considered, in a paraphrasing of Stein. He had so much to overcome, but I loved to help others, and I already loved how comely his new body had turned out to be.

He now resembled the sort of deity who would know precisely how to fuck you like an animal while kissing you tenderly at the same time. His pecs were swollen beyond the shape of an Adonis, but more pert and malleable-seeming than the gargantuan pecs of Michelangelo’s David, which you’d understand if you’ve ever seen it in person. His pecs appeared to be hard and soft at the same time, as if they’d be a delight to knead. With their new bronze colouration, they were simply luminous, and I could imagine how often I’d be helping him slather them up with coconut oil sunscreens at the beach, more for the scent than anything else. He’d make a fantastic sight jogging upon the line where the ocean broke and crashed up against the sand.

Indeed, Abil-Shamash, power source of the world, his nuclear fusion almost a miracle of molecules, in its own way, an original center of light that nobody could deny, a source through which we’d all have energy. The moon could only coldly reflect, and the lions could only chomp upon the gazelles that nurtured themselves upon the grasses that only yearned to reach, ever closer, to the high potentialities that Abil-Shamash would represent.

“It’s a magnificent name. It’s ancient and grandiloquent, and will have you feeling so much more alive that the generic, rather pointillistic worker bee name you had before. You’ll be breaking the new covenant in half so often that you will probably want to erotically asphyxiate guys with your former name every time you see them. You’re going to love it. You’ll be worshipped, feared, revered, beloved, and so much more. You currently cannot even conceive of your own grandeur. You’re bitterly clinging to the man you once were, and I find it lamentable, indeed, deplorable. You will see the light soon, and you will remember the dawning that came upon you every time you see the redness of the rising sun upon the horizon. For you were made for more than this.”

“More than what?” Abil-Shamash said to me, the annoyance and hatred in his voice resonant in the room. Just a sheep, still. Oh, but how the rough sandpaper stubble of his jaw now did make him look like a superior being who could likely have his way in bed with most any man or woman who walked the earth, his body almost always hovering above his chosen partner like the sun hovers above us all, his powerful arms, which had burst forth with juicy vascularity, able to easily prop him up above his chosen lovers, the radiant warmth of his body glowing over them. Yes, what a sigh he would be to see, both for myself and for others. I could picture him looking just as fantastic on the bottom, supine on his back, the drool flowing out of his mouth and onto his stubbly whiskers after he’d gotten so gooned-out on fermented grapes and a thousand and one nights of gay lovemaking that he wouldn’t be able to think anymore outside of the sexual realm, a recumbent sex god who any man would be beyond lucky to be able to suck off to the point of orgasm. But I imagined that he would just be too much for most men, too motivated, bursting, as he was, with so much to offer. He would be a versatile god who often found himself topping. He would give every inch of his cock to those in need, and he would sweat just as those he pleasured would sweat in tandem. His bronze skin would look even more radiant when beads of sexually excited perspiration started to stand out, glistening and dancing just like his eyes will.

“Abil-Shamash, do not try me or test me with your hangups about the life you once lived. You must have faith in this process. Look at this glorious body I have gifted you with. Are you still too daft to realise more gifts will be coming your way? You were so pale and weak before, living under the florescent lights like so many of your former brethren. Your identity was composed of almost infinitesimally irrelevant signifiers, such as which kind of soda pop you preferred to drink and what sporting teams you chose in your office’s fantasy football pools. So tacky. Shame on the man whom you once were, Abil-Shamash. We must never utter his name again. You do not want his former presence befouling the new start you have with me here.

“I don’t want a new start! Don’t you fucking get it!” Abil-Shamash bleated at me now. It was a scream perhaps, and his new vocal cords did sound mighty, full and deep as the chords of an organ to me, and yet, alas, he still thought like a sheep, and so his desires in that moment barely registered upon my ken. He had not yet changed enough to know what was good for him. I had my head in the clouds, excited for the impending moment upon us in which he would give up on his sordid nostalgia for his former life forever. For the past is behind us, and the universe is not about to stop churning just because little sheep like the man he had been are attempting to induce stasis and worship for man as mule and mule-rider.

“Enough with the temper tantrums, Abil-Shamash. When we fly on in to Myrtle Beach and take you to the boardwalks and beaches of the The Palmetto State, no gay man who’s worth the zinc in his own blood would refuse to bow. Who could ever hold back from kneeling before the splendour of a bronze god in mortal form who goes by the name of Abil-Shamash? You only live once, as you surely must know, so get a grip on it. Your life will soon be exponentially more exciting than it ever was. You will not only rise like a phoenix but you’ll also soon find that you’ll burn like an ardent, continually incandescent and triumphant epicenter of life itself. The veil is being rent asunder for you today, and the light will shine forevermore upon you. I could not be more thrilled to have the privilege of getting to witness it all as it happens.”

"You’re fucking gay, dude, and I’m not. It’ll never work out. Just let me go.”

“You’re queer already. Most guys don’t have a body like you do. You are no longer normal. And you’ll love being homosexual. You can’t escape it.”

“I’ll never get used to it,” he said, his eyes whirling frenetically in his sockets. He was agitated and trying to fight me, still.

"You’re like a sheep to me, but someday you’ll be a prize bull to me,” I told him. “I’m a bull, too. I’m a Taurus. We’ll be each other’s bulls. A day will come, Abil-Shamash, in which you will be my equal, and you will no longer have to engage in these simple, animalistic tactics in which you attempt to position yourself above me. That day is today. I am looking forward to you joining me.”

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” he said.

Mutton, I thought. He’s on his last legs. He’d be reborn soon.

“Do please drink your coffee, dear” I told him, walking back to the pot in the kitchen for a refill. I was in such a good mood. “Don’t you love hazelnut coffee?” I continued. “I do so love a flavoured coffee. It’s a bit of an acquired taste. I used to find them rather kitchy. Sometimes they don’t make sense unless you’ve had enough organic roasts and lattes to last you for a lifetime. I could serve you geisha coffee everyday, with its exquisite clarity and notes of honeysuckle, but I have a feeling it would get tiresome if one had it too often. Oh, there are so many conversations about coffee and tea alone that we’ll be able to have together. I’ve spent so much time in the Four Asian Tigers, of which Taiwan is my favourite. I’ll be able to share the finest tieguanyin in Taipei with you soon. You simply must experience it in the flesh. It’s so heavily roasted and red. I have a Japanese friend who swears it will save your life, not that you’ll need saving. You wouldn’t appreciate tieguanyin right now. It is nearly time for your mutton brain, so limited in ken, to give up the ghost. We will not have a memorial service for the man you were, as his passing will be a joyous occasion for the both of us.”

He sullenly, it seemed, sipping his coffee, and I took the opportunity to further examine his fine form with my eyes. I wanted to witness the change come over him. I knew it would be any minute now, as caffeine was usually an activator, and he’d been drinking coffee with me for at least ten minutes.

Abil-Shamash felt it then, the power surging into him, and as he felt it overtake him, he fell to his knees, a ‘no’ escaping his luscious lips. Then he was laughing, laughing like a madman as he tried to fight it, tried to escape it, I knew. He was trying to run from the change in his own mind, but there was nowhere to run to.

He had his hands on his head, some part of him sensing that his state of mind was shifting, and as his laughter, which had seemed absolutely crazed at first, started to shift in tone, it seemed to me that it was becoming more lighthearted and joyous. He was accepting the change, or better said, the change was accepting him. He had no choice. There was no way he would be able to fend off the queerness that was being activated in him. It would forever be a part of him, just as a sunflower would never be able to retreat back inside the seed once it had sprouted. The gates of dawn were opening fo him, and he would never be the same. His pleasures were about to begin.

There he was before me, not so much an angry bronze man anymore so much as a supplicant worshipping the god he perceived me to be, as in a sense, I was his creator. And still I, this very day, would be worshipping him in tandem. Our lovemaking would be an exploration, but I never doubted for one moment that it would be a power struggle in anything more than the playfulness that such faux struggles can often generate, just as the sun can choose to hide itself behind the clouds.

I pictured him there, in flux, his own wheel of truth having arisen in him for the first time. He appeared to have a human face and the body of a bull to me. He was my bull, now, and I could feel the bullishness of my own face upon the very human body I was sporting, a body that was as muscular as his own. They didn’t call me the Duke for nothing, and I strove to live up to the power and nobility in my name, conducting my life in a way that meant to induce striving and high standards while dismantling the triteness of lineages. For I did not look backwards, but rather forwards.

How could I not look forward to bull and man and god becoming one and the same, as I was at that moment? He was here, at long last. My lover was here.

As Abil-Shamash awoke, realising the truth, he stared up at me with love in his eyes, and slowly arose, still genuflecting before me, not arising to his full height, for he was choosing to lean over and tenderly kiss the back of one of my hands in obeisance. I had not expected this and was moved almost to tears, but I could not cry in his presence right now, as he deserved so much better than anything I could hope to offer him, so I only embraced him, slinging my arms around his neck, hugging him and, unable to refrain from it, starting to kiss him already, to let him know how precious he was, to give him a sense of the power he now had over me, the way I was willing to make myself a total fool for him.

This is how, that selfsame morning, I soon found myself stumbling into the bedroom with Abil-Shamash, kissing his beautiful neck, a bullish neck if there ever was one, and making contact with his tender lips, and feeling the rough stubble of his face scratching aside my neck as he lost control and let his passion burst forth. He soon let his tongue fall out of his mouth completely and lapped his way all down my chest, diving his beautiful face into the lushness of my bush, licking at my cock, knowing there would only ever be one first time, and savouring his moment, delaying it, tantalising me and himself, until he could wait no longer and swallowed up my hardness with his salivating mouth.

As I pushed him back upon the bed, marvelling at the way his thick form so casually fell back upon the cushioned sheets, he again looked up at me with love and wonder in his eyes. Then, perhaps to let me know he had been listening to me this whole time, sussing out my desires, perhaps, in some part of his unfurling mind, my lover stuck out his tongue, and started mooing like a bull in rutting season, just bawling and bellowing with precision, as if he truly had become a bull in the throes of desire. I’d never heard anything like it. He must have spent some time on a farm somewhere back in his past. I had not known. And so I bawled back at him, eagerly, with no shame or embarrassment, for I was the Duke, and he was Abil-Shamash. We were two, just as we were one, snout to snout, a syncytium, perhaps, forgetting who had the bull body and who had the bull head. For we were animals, nothing but animals. We would fill each other with seed for the sheer joy of it, letting it splatter, fall and flood wherever it may.

#abil-shamash #shamash #bull #gay bull #gay couple #straight to gay #tf #transformation #babylon #gay #tieguanyin #syncytium #taurus #gay taurus #beasts of burden #duke

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doslopez · 2 years

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When you are an Alien from Space 👽 But your Favorite Pokemon is Pikachu! ⚡🌟 🌟Last night was sooo funn!! The was the 1st show after 7 months! Danced sooo much! I'm surprised I'm not too sore but a little sore. I love every minute of it!! Thank you @syncytium_arts for the opportunity!! Looking forward to the next ones! 🌈🌠🎵 ⚡The Next DJ Gig in June 30th for the last @nonsensenight !?! 🌟Then July 8-10 Djing a Silent Disco at @blissfestmusic ⚡After that July 28-31 for @glfproductions at @thousandsuns_community 🌟Finally Aug 14th for the Electro-Magnetic Universe WORLD EXPO Electric Futurism at @tangentgallery Once the Events get closer I shall post and talk about them more! Thank you for All Your Support! 🤎❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤍🖤 👽 ⚡ 👽 ⚡ 👽 ⚡ 👽 ⚡ #CosplayDJ #Detroitparty #AnimeGirl #SpreadYourMusictotheWorld #DosLopez #Otaku #Detroitdj #Movementdetroit #cosplayer #Halloween #jeffreystar #reptilianshapeshifters #syncytium #AlienFromSpace #multidimensional #NonsenseNights #hairwars #livedetroit #outdoorparty #pikachu #michigancosplayer #burningman #lakesoffire #GreatLakesFlow #mimiku #nofilter #pikachulover #BetheStrangeyouwishtosee #electromagnetic #Blissfest https://www.instagram.com/p/Cdlg5OMrPm6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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rubeghast · 3 days

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silkscreened my Syncytium design on some bandanas/wall tapestries !

shop

#art #illustration #artists on tumblr #dog #horror #body horror #screenprinting #ruearts

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profbastard · 1 year

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Syncytium AU Part 9

Back/Next

#syncytiumau #gooigi #luigi #luigis mansion 3 #super mario bros fanart

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pluto-art · 4 years

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Syncytium - Chapter 2 - Ferrum

Title: Syncytium - Chapter 2 - Ferrum Words: 5,707 Rating: T

Fan Fiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/2/Syncytium

Full chapter below the cut. I’d recommend the fan fiction version, however, which includes all the italicized words which are not emphasized here.

September 11th, 7:30 AM

Darkness.

A light flicked on. It flickered a moment before settling. A pen sharpened... and subsequently broken. Whoops. A vase with three roses delicately placed right near a picture in frame with four occupants. Perfect.

Pinky clasped his hands together, sighed deeply, and tipped his square rimmed glasses down a little, the better to address his eager pupils.

"Good morning, class! I am Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology!"

And he wrote upon the blackboard behind him with vigor as he said it, accidentally flipping the 'k' in 'Pinkus'. He turned back towards the crowd.

"But you can call me Pinky! Ha-ha-ha!"

It was a carrying little laugh, bouncing and pinging excitedly off the walls with a lonely echo.

"I'll be your teacher this semester, and that's because, well, I'm the only teacher of this subject!"

He giggled again. No one said anything.

"You'll be instructed on the topics of Poitilism, Narfonics, and, of course, Trozology. Allllllllll grades are final, except, of course, when they're not, in which case... I'll get back to you on that!" said he, chuckling to himself once more. "Now, are there any questions? Anyone? Yes! Nilly."

If Nilly had raised her hand, no one noticed. But, then again, no one seemed to care. Perhaps it was because Nilly had no hands to raise in the first place. Perhaps this was because Nilly was actually a sack of flour. Or perhaps it was because all the "students" were made up of things like an empty bottle of soda, a bag of corn chips, two toilet paper rolls stacked one on top of the other, and a plunger. Whatever the reason, only Pinky seemed to have recognized Nilly and her very silent question. He didn't seem to mind, however. On the contrary, he positively beamed, acknowledging his pitiful excuse for a pupil-laden classroom as if they were real mice, voles, hamsters, and shrews hanging onto his every word like campfire kids to a spooky story.

"Well, I'm glad you asked that, Nilly, because I happen to be verrrrry versed in the subject!" Pinky snickered, eyes half-lidded as he picked imaginary dirt from his fingers, looking in the direction of his students with a very devious smirk indeed.

Several doors down and around a corner, in the middle of a long hallway, a locker was being absolutely mutilated. Books, pencils, various household tools, and a half-eaten burrito wrapped in tin foil were carelessly tossed onto the floor, its aggressor in a state of pure panic.

"Ohhhhh, shoot. Where are they?!" Gadget growled, hair a little unkempt as she flung a notebook over her shoulder, almost hitting a passerby in the process.

"Hey! Watch it!" the boy mouse shrieked, dodging out of the path of the wayward notebook just in time.

Gadget didn't even seem to notice as she continued to tear through her locker, muttering angrily to herself as she threw a pencil case onto the floor. It burst open. One of the pencils popped out, rolling all the way across from the locker and underneath the door of room three-nineteen. On and on the little chartreuse pencil rolled, finally coming to rest with a soft 'plink' against Dr. Globetrotter's desk. His ear twitched at the sound and his head peered around the side of the desk at its source. There sat a thin, yellow pencil. He picked it up, frowning, and set it down on a far side of his desk.

"As I was saying," Globetrotter rang, clearing his throat, but he'd barely reached out for his mug of steaming hot coffee before the class was interrupted yet again, this time by a very haphazard-looking and goggle-less Gadget.

"Sorry I'm late," she mumbled, head down and gaze firmly directed at the floor as she shuffled past a barrage of staring eyes to plop into her seat between Maisy and Tillie. Gadget shut her eyes tight. She, along with everyone else in the room, knew what was coming, and they all held their breath in anticipation.

The unpleasant echo throughout the room was palpable as Globetrotter set down his mug, glaring.

"Oh, well, I suppose we all can just excuse Miss Gadget here from arriving two minutes past our start time. Obviously, she has more important things to do than be punctual. I guess my precious hours of time spent preparing for this class that will help all of you get a proper education simply don't matter in light of one tardily-inclined, mucilage-chewing student forgetting their pack of lime-flavored gum right before 7:30, is that right?"

Sarcasm dripped like venom from every syllable, causing Gadget to shrink ever lower in her seat. Somewhere in the class, journal boy jotted down "tardily-inclined" and "mucilage-chewing" under the ever-growing list of Globetrotter insults. Maisy glared at their teacher, but, like every other student, she didn't dare say anything. To retort meant a week's worth of detention, and they all knew that it was better to bite the bullet now than suffer the consequences for a harsh retort later.

"It's not like I spend all night grading your measly excuses for a thesis, carefully combing every paragraph for even a sliver of intelligence, while you're at home watching reruns of Dukes of Hazard..."

On and on it went, ironically cutting into his so-called "precious time" to teach. On and on he rolled, all the way up until 7:55 AM. The only good thing about it was that it was twenty-five minutes they didn't have to spend studying. Some had taken to drawing little sketches in their notebooks, others took the opportunity to sneak in a snack or two, and Tillie was full-on knitting.

Finally, he reached the end of his spiel. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Now... Seeing as that's hopefully enlarged your minds a little, please turn to page eighty-seven of your textbooks, as we delve into the absolutely incredible topic of Meiosis."

"'Incredible', my arse," Maisy muttered. "Couldn't find your goggles, huh?"

Gadget shook her head, too embarrassed to give a verbal reply.

"Oh, leave her alone. We've forgotten our fair share of trinkets before," Tillie whispered, putting away her knitting. "What are you so upset about? I thought you had hearts for Globetrotter."

Maisy didn't reply, but shot another scathing glare at Globetrotter as she pulled out her textbook.

"Trusting that we won't have any more interruptions," bit their teacher, shooting a look at Gadget as he said it, "I'd like you all to turn your attention to..."

Bang.

Everyone jumped, including Globetrotter. He turned behind him to stare at the wall. What...?

"A-As I was saying, please direct your attention to..."

BANG.

Nobody jumped this time, but Globetrotter once more turned sharply 'round to inspect the wall. The heck?

A few seconds passed. Nothing. Perhaps someone was just doing maintenance... in the unused classroom?

"Kindly direct your atten-"

BANG!

"Graaaaaaaaahhhh!" Globetrotter growled, storming out of the classroom and followed by a host of eyes watching him go. Gadget cautiously sat up in her chair as he went.

Down the hallways he trundled, shoulders hunched, every footstep a declaration of annoyance as he made for door two-ten, pushing aside the occasional student or teacher who dared cross his path. It was fortunate the door was a little ajar, for he kicked it open with such force that it flew open, BANGED against the wall, and reverberated so heavily that it shook the walls. Had it been closed the door handle probably would have broken along with it.

"What in CURIE'S name are you DOING?!" the angry little mouse shouted, smoke practically steaming off of him as he fumed, his fiery gaze trained squarely at the tall, lanky mouse in front of him.

Pinky was in mid-swing, one leg raised high up in the air as his paws clutched firmly around a wooden baseball bat. He was dressed in full baseball attire, and his classroom had been very primitively set up to resemble a sandlot of sorts, each of his "students" serving as the players. Globetrotter's explosion had thrown him off only a smidgen. If anything, Pinky beamed and waved at the newcomer.

"Mr. Globetrotter! You're just in time for the home run! Or... you would have been if you hadn't thrown me off just now," he giggled.

"Would you kindly explain why you're using your room as a sports arena?!" Globetrotter snapped.

"Oh! Well, Nilly here wanted to know if I was well-versed in the thrilling art of baseball, and I couldn't turn that one down 'cause, you know, I am. Hmhm!"

Globetrotter turned to look at this "Nilly", arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"That's a sack of flour," he retorted, unimpressed.

Pinky gasped.

"How rude! He didn't mean it, Nilly. Did you, Brain? Say you're sorry to Nilly!"

"It's Brian, and I am not apologizing to an inanimate object! And I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from playing baseball in a classroom! Don't you realize you're disturbing the peace - upsetting my students and keeping me from my work?"

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Is your classroom on the other side of that wall?"

"Yes."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Got it, Brain! We'll play baseball later, shall we?"

"You shall."

And with that, he stormed off... right into Olivia, in fact, who was in full delivery mode. The force of their impact knocked her backwards onto the floor.

"Ah! My letter!" she screeched, reaching for a little yellow note that had slipped out of her hands.

"Hmph," Globetrotter muttered, completely ignoring her as he trudged back to his classroom.

Olivia watched him go, reeling back a little at the slam of a door five seconds later.

"Ooo. Too angry. Too angry," she mumbled to herself, sprinting up to classroom two-ten and peering inside.

Pinky was now hard at work not playing baseball. All the chairs, tables, and "students" were being reshuffled to resemble a normal classroom again, the big television in the back rolled up to the front behind the main desk to serve as a new source of entertainment.

"Sorry, class. Baseball is canceled for the moment," apologized Pinky, hooking up the tv as Olivia tip-toed into the classroom and carefully shut the door behind her. "Oh well. That's why I brought my Honeymooners tapes, "he exclaimed, whipping out the tapes from the stand's shelf in a flourish. He was just about to pop one in when a light cough caught his attention. He turned around. There was Olivia smiling at him.

"Oh! Hello, Olivia!"

"Hello, Mr. Pinky," she said, a little shyly this time. "I've got something for you."

"Another letter?" he asked, taking it from her and reading:

Dear Mr. Pinkus,

I must regret to inform you that baseball or sports of any kind are not allowed in the hallways and classrooms. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I also appreciate my job, and I can't very well keep it when there's a home run going on a few doors down. This is for your own sake. I do hope this reaches you before Globetrotter does...

Sincerely, Mrs. Judson

"I think baseball in the school is a wonderful idea," Olivia piped up as Pinky read the letter, his ears lowering a little as he went over each word. "I heard we used to have a field, but... they got rid of that years ago." Her own little ears, round and pink, drooped at this. Pinky thought a moment.

"Well... perhaps we could make a petition?"

"Petition?"

"Certainly!" said he, setting down his tapes for a moment. "We could write up a letter saying we'd like a baseball stadium back on the lot, and if we get enough signatures..."

"We'll get one!" Olivia gasped, tiny hands tucking up against her chest in excitement.

"Well, maybe. It still has to pass the board of directors now, don't it?"

"We'll get a lot of signatures then. You get the form, and I'll get people to sign it!"

Pinky smiled.

"You've got yourself a petition there, Missy! I'll draw one up tonight!"

"Good good!" Olivia exclaimed, bouncing up and down, tam-o'-shanter bouncing this way and that. "So what do you teach?"

"Oh, a little of this. A little of that," Pinky said, dodging the question. "Do you like The Honeymooners?"

"The Honeywho?" she asked, shuffling about his desk and picking up one of the bunsen burners to peer into it with a curious eye.

"Now don't tell me you've never heard of one of the best television shows of all time!"

"Not really. I don't watch a lot of tv."

But whatever Pinky said next in response to this she didn't catch, for she had just discovered his notepad, and of the number of colorful stickers coating it, one in particular stood out to her. She gasped again.

"Is that a radish rose whatchamawhoozit?!"

Pinky was caught off guard. He stopped mid-sentence, stared at her, and slammed his hands down on the table, making her jump.

"You know what a radish rose whatchamawhoozit is?!"

"Look!" Olivia said, sweeping off her tammie, the better to see her fluffy ears. Hanging from each ear was a small earring, both shaped like radish rose whatchamawhoozits. "My mum used to use them for parties! I always liked them."

Pinky went wide-eyed.

"My mum did, too! You know... you're the first mouse I've met who knows what that is."

"I'm surprised most people don't know what that is!" Olivia giggled.

"Me too!" Pinky chuckled back, eyes a little misty.

For a moment they just stood there, smiling at one another, two radish rose whatchamawhoozit buddies meeting for the first time. There was something very comforting about it.

The slow tick, tick, tick of a wall clock nearby brought Olivia back to Earth, and she stepped back shyly.

"I... probably should go," she said, smiling. "She's probably waiting for me."

Pinky's face fell.

"We-.. uhh... would you like to stay for just a minute longer?"

"Sorry, but I really do have to go," replied Olivia regretfully, looking very much as if she didn't want to.

"Umm... what else do you like to do that's... not watching tv?"

"Well... umm... I do like to sing."

Pinky beamed, dug in his box, and pulled out a microphone attached to a small radio-looking device.

"Do you like karaoke?"

Olivia beamed.

Several doors down and one wall over, Globetrotter had everyone in a stupor. Gadget could barely keep her eyes open, one of the boys had taken to drawing circles over and over again in his notebook, and Maisy's brother was actually snoring. Perhaps Globetrotter would have cared if he hadn't been so engrossed in the exciting subject of Meoisis, one hand clasped firmly around a nearly-drained cup of coffee, the other brandishing a thick ruler at the blackboard behind him.

"The initial metaphase takes place when the homologous pairs travel along the metaphase plate. Kinetochore microtubles from the spindle poles attach to the-"

He stopped. His ears twitched. Some of the students lifted their heads, shifting in their seats. A distant sound of singing could be heard, just beyond the wall. Globetrotter frowned.

"Um. The microtubles attach directly to-"

It was soft at first, then it grew - louder, louder, louder. Pinky and Olivia's singing had escalated from a light hum to a crescendo and climbed all the way to the top in a full on opera. The student with the journal counted down on his fingers to his friend: three, two, one...

SNAP!

Right on cue, Globetrotter applied so much anger... or... pressure, rather, to his ruler that it snapped clean in half. Journal boy made a mark in his book: t'was the fourth one snapped this semester, apparently.

For the second time that morning, Globetrotter stomped out of his classroom, although this time he was followed, not by one student, not by two, but almost the entire class, albeit tepidly. Although he probably wouldn't notice them, considering the state he was in, caution was still advised... at least to a degree. Ronald Pinkus was in for it big time and they couldn't afford to miss this. They'd heard the rumors: that when Mr. B. got this flustered he'd actually physically vibrate, lose all mastery of the English language, and sometimes even spout intense poetry at the accuser. It was one of the only exciting things that happened in his classes and they sure as heck weren't going to pass up the opportunity when it presented itself.

Science room three-nineteen's teacher had barely managed four steps out the door, however, when he was approached by a tall lady mouse in a green dress. All the students moved back a pace, retreating into the classroom.

"Ah! Mr. Globetrotter. I was just coming to remind you that the teacher's conference is this weekend at 5:00 PM."

"Yes, Ms. Weatherby. I'll be there," he scratched, barely containing himself.

Ms. Weatherby stepped away, not the least bit perturbed, whether due to pure naivety or a lack of concern none could tell.

She was barely two feet away when Globetrotter continued his trek, down the hall and around a corner. His students followed at a careful pace. He'd just turned the corner when a boy vole with glasses knocked into him, his homework flying everywhere.

"M-Mr. B! I-I mean, Mr. Globetrotter!" he stammered, shaking from head to tail.

"What is it?!" Globetrotter growled, impatience growing by the millisecond.

"I-I-I just wanted to ask about the upcoming assignment. Is there any way I could turn mine in just... a day late? M-My mother is sick in the hospital, you see, and-"

But he was abruptly cut off as Globetrotter shoved him aside with a sharp, "NO!" to boot.

"O-Or I can just turn it in on time then! N-No biggie! Eheh...!" the vole stuttered, clutching the few remaining papers to his chest ever so tightly and quickly picking up the rest before running off. He jumped as he almost ran into Globetrotter's entire class. Gadget reached out a hand towards him, as if to apologize on Globetrotter's behalf, but Maisy stilled her with a shake of the head and a clutch of the paw. They tip-toed on.

Globetrotter was almost at door two-ten when plump Mrs. Judson came flying down the hallway.

"Globetrotter! Don't you even think about touching that door!"

The little mouse grumbled.

"I have EVERY RIGHT to open that door!" he shouted, already trembling. A couple of the boys in the crowd started bouncing up and down excitedly. This was just getting better and better. They might actually get a full show!

"You don't know what that poor boy's been through. He might be a complete boob, but you leave him alone! Let me talk to him," Mrs. Judson spouted, paws on her hips as she went face-to-face with Globetrotter.

"Mrs. Judson," Globetrotter replied, full on vibrating now, "If you don't get out of my way, I swear I'll report you to the principle for unlawful involvement in a teacher's affairs!"

"Hmph! 'Unlawful involvement.' There's no such thing."

"Oh, isn't there? I can MAKE it a thing! And," he added, voice low and threatening, "I'll tell them about Marley."

Mrs. Judson went wide-eyed.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would," Globetrotter seethed.

With brows furrowed and lips tense, she turned in a flourish and marched off, shooting his class a harsh glare as she rounded a corner, shaking her head at them.

"You watch your step," she hissed.

Some of them exchanged worried glances. It was incredible Globetrotter hadn't even noticed the crowd following him; so enslaved by anger was he. It was almost impressive. The entire group collectively held their breath as their teacher, fuming, flung open the door.

"WHAT THE BLAZES ARE YOU-"

But at this, he stopped, for what met Globetrotter's eyes rendered him speechless.

"Aaaaaaand wwwwwwwelcome to the show!"

The room was unrecognizable. A sparkling blue floor complemented an equally sparkling purple stadium decorated with red velvet curtains, all so dazzling that Globetrotter had to rub at his eyes to stop himself from going blind. The entire place looked like a game show one might see on tv - Wheel of Fortune or Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Energetic, happy-go-lucky music blared on a little radio in a corner, completing the effect, and a seemingly disembodied voice, all flamboyant and hospitable, dominated the scene.

"Come on in! Take a seat!" remarked the voice, which turned out to be Pinky's as he scooted Globetrotter into the room and onto a chair right next to Olivia, who waved at him.

"That's my new teacher!" she whispered excitedly to him, pointing at Pinky, who was fully decked out in a purple suit and bow tie. Globetrotter sputtered.

"Now, h-h-hold on! I need to tell you-"

"Why, yes. You do need to tell me your name, good Sir!" interrupted Pinky, holding up a microphone right in front of Globetrotter's face. "And you are?"

"I... ma... puh... G-Globetrotter, b-but that-"

"Ladies and gentleman, give it up for GLOOOOOOBETROTTER!"

An invisible crowd cheered. Olivia clapped.

"And your name, young lady?"

"Olivia!"

"OLIVIA!"

More clapping.

By this time, all of Globetrotter's class was pressed up against two-ten's door, eagerly peering in at the activity with wide, bugged out eyes.

"Now, folks, you know we just completed the singing competition, with an outstanding performance by little miss Olivia."

The invisible crowd cheered again, and Olivia blushed.

"But now it's time for the moment you've all been waiting for! Drum-roll, please," requested Pinky, and right on cue... there came a thundering drum-roll.

The entire class was now shuffling into the room, taking spots at the back that had actually been set up for a proper crowd. They filled every seat.

"TUUUUUURBULENT TRIVIAAAAAAA!"

Clapping and cheering from the invisible crowd on... the radio? another dimension? ... was now mixed in with actual applause from Globetrotter's class. He turned to stare at them, flabbergasted. He had an actual audience?! How embarrassing...

Two pedestals, each with a big red button in their centers, rose up out of the floor to rest in front of Globetrotter and Olivia.

"Now, you all know the rules!" Pinky continued, gesturing to a giant board behind him that was laden with a plethora of different topics. "Our contestant with the most points picks a topic, and both try to answer it! Whoever gets the most points at the end of the show wins!"

And he jumped up and down at this, Olivia mirroring him as she bounced around in her seat. Globetrotter was silent. He wouldn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. Every time he opened his mouth to voice his complaints, no sound came out, as if he was so caught off guard by the affair that he simply didn't know how to react. And rightly so. He simply had no words for this.

"Olivia! You're up first, my dear, so pick a subject!"

Olivia stood up in her seat, thought for a moment, then pointed at one of the topics.

"Ummm... I pick... Science!"

"Science it is! And heeeeeere's your question!"

And the little box marked 'SCIENCE' flipped over to reveal a small paragraph, which Pinky read out:

The first known telescope was submitted as a patent to the Netherlands government in 1609 by which spectacle maker?

Someone slammed down on their red button.

"Yeeeeeeeeeees?" Pinky questioned, sporting a wide, toothy grin.

Surprisingly, it was Globetrotter who answered. He actually was standing up out of his seat, looking mad as a hare.

"That's preposterous! It was patented in 1608, not '09, and the answer is Hans Lippershey!"

"CORRECT!"

Ding ding ding ding ding! went Globetrotter's big red button, as it flashed on and off a luminous green color. He sat down almost shyly in his seat, as if surprised he'd found himself out of it, as his entire class clapped and cheered. He turned to look at them with an expression of absolute surprise.

"Congratulations! You've just earned ten points! But Olivia is still in the lead with thirty. What's your next topic, Olivia?" Pinky asked, an open hand gesturing to the board.

"Ummmm... music!" she piped.

"You got it!" Pinky exclaimed, as the next little box labeled 'MUSIC' flipped over. Once again, Pinky read aloud:

Who composed this famous piece?

And a deep, booming tune played loud and clear throughout the room. Olivia slammed down on her button.

"Go ahead, Olivia!"

"Mozart!" she shouted out, but...

EHNG!

Wrong!

"Ohhhh. I'm so sorry, Olivia! But it's not Mozart! Do we have any other takers? Anyone?"

Globetrotter's button rang again, albeit with a bit more hesitance this time.

"Globetrotter!" Pinky shouted.

"That's obviously Beethoven," Globetrotter muttered, arms crossed indignantly.

"CORRECT!"

Ding ding ding ding ding! rang the little button again as ten more points went up on Globetrotter's side of the scoreboard. The crowd went wild. Some of his students had actually gotten popcorn from... somewhere, and looked as though they were having the time of their lives.

"Go, Mr. B!" some shouted out, and, "Trotter! Trotter!" others cheered. "You can do it!" one gal said. Globetrotter's ears perked up a touch. They were actually... supporting him?

"Oooooo. Globetrotter's giving you a run for your money, Olivia! Better pick a good one!" Pinky egged on.

"Hmm. I piiiiiiiick... mathematics!" she shouted, standing in her seat, two pink paws set firmly on the pedestal in front of her.

"Let's see that math question!" rolled Pinky, pointing at a box with 'MATH' written on it in big, bold letters, and reading out:

The square root of 6,428 is...

Before Pinky could even list out the options, Globetrotter's red button was punched.

"80.1748090113!"

"CORRECT!" Pinky yelled, and the crowd exploded. He was now tied with Olivia!

Globetrotter actually went slightly pink in the face as his class whooped and hollered and cheered him on. He almost dared to smile a little. This was... actually... kinda fun...?

"Aaaaaaand now! For the FINAL question! This one... is a TIE BREAKER," Pinky exclaimed dramatically. At this, all the lights dimmed at once, with spotlights thrown on Globetrotter and Olivia only. "Since you both have thirty points each, I'll be picking the question," Pinky continued. "Whoever gets this one right... is the ultimate winner."

The music boomed just as dramatically. Globetrotter actually swallowed thickly. The crowd went silent.

"Here... is your final question, in 'Entertainment'," said Pinky, and he read out:

Which character in The Honeymooners was known for his catchphrase, "Bang, zoom, right to the moon!"

Globetrotter began to sweat, not because he was oblivious, even though it was common knowledge that he rarely watched tv, but because he was embarrassed that he knew the answer. He had to answer, though. Surely, the kid wouldn't know. Would she...? And yet...

SLAM! went Olivia's paw onto bright red button. No way.

"Olivia?" Pinky asked, all ears.

"Mary Poppins!" she rang out.

ENGH! went her button.

"Ohhhhhh. I'm sorry, but that's not the right answer! Globetrotter?"

He was sweating all the more now. He'd surely be teased forever for this, but he couldn't not answer a question he knew the response to...

"Globetrotter? Ten seconds!" Pinky countered.

"Come on, Trotter!" one of his students shouted.

"Yeah, you can do it, Mr. B! Come on!"

And more shouts... and more... and more built up, until finally...

SLAM! went Globetrotter's paw on the big red button.

"Yeeeeeeeeees?" asked Pinky.

"R-Ralph Kramden!" Globetrotter shouted out, eyes tightly closed.

A pause. And then...

"CORRECT! GLOBETROTTER WINS!"

The din was deafening. Balloons and confetti actually fell from the sky as the lights went up all around Globetrotter, Olivia, Pinky, and the entire class as triumphant music was played. Olivia was jumping up and down, actually hugging Globetrotter, not at all perturbed that she'd lost, as the crowd poured out from their seats to congratulate their teacher. Globetrotter was completely stiff. How the heck was he supposed to react to this?

"Congraaaaaaaatulations, Globetrotter! Let's see what you've won!"

There were no show girls, so Pinky himself had to run off-set, grab a selection of items, and fly back onto the stage in front of Globetrotter.

"You win: an orange juicerator, a block of Worcestershire cheese, and a week's supply of paperclips!"

All these he dumped into Globetrotter's hands. Everyone clapped and cheered, and the celebration might have gone on forever had the bell not rung.

"Oh! That's the bell! Time to go, everyone!" Pinky directed, and they all filed out of the classroom, Globetrotter and all, Pinky bringing up the rear. He was still in his purple outfit. "Everybody go on to your next class! Go on! Thanks for playing!" he said, spending an extra second or two to thank Olivia for being such a good sport and handing her a bag of chips. She beamed, thanked him, and skipped off, crunching on them happily. Globetrotter remained, the only participant who hadn't quite taken it all in.

"What... just happened?" he asked, turning to stare at Pinky, his bulky prizes still clasped in his arms.

"You'd better get back to your room, Brain! Your next class is about to start!" was all that Pinky said as he gently pushed him forward, ducked back into his classroom, and shut the door behind him.

Globetrotter just stood there for a moment, staring at door two-ten, before looking down at the batch of prizes he was still holding. Without a word, he slowly, almost drunkenly, meandered back to his classroom. With some difficulty, he opened the door, set down his newfound possessions upon his desk, and breathed in and out, slowly, deeply...

What... had just happened? Never in his life had he ever experience anything like that, not in this school, not in public, not... anywhere, for that matter. It was a time-waster. It was ridiculous. It was... fun? He hated to admit that to himself: that somewhere, deep down, he'd managed to enjoy something so asinine. And yet...

He took a minute to go through each of the "prizes". An orange... juicerator, it was called? It was a portly thing, about half the length of his forearm, and sporting a curved spout that looked a bit like a faucet. How pointless. Unlikely he'd ever find a use for such an item. He'd never even heard of the thing until now. He tossed it in an unused drawer. The second was a block of Worcestershire cheese. That wasn't... all bad. He quite liked this type. In fact, it was his favorite. How did that bumbling idiot know that? Last of all was the "week's supply of paperclips". Handy, he supposed. Nothing wrong with some extra tools for one's classroom. These he put in a top drawer that was visited much more frequently.

He sighed again and stuck his hands in his back pockets. Something crinkled against his right paw... Huh?

He pulled out a note.

Thanks for playing with us! You have a lovely smile. - Pinky

Globetrotter blinked, taken aback, and was caught off guard at a sharp knock on his door. He tossed the note in the trash.

"C-Come in!" he stammered.

It was two of his students: journal boy and his friend.

"Sorry, Mr. B! We forgot our backpacks!" journal boy said, as the two mice ran to grab their packs. But as they headed back towards the door, they stopped. "By the way, um... congratulations, Mr. B!"

"Yeah, that was awesome!" his friend exclaimed.

And with that, they exited the room, closing the door behind them.

Globetrotter stood rooted to the spot. He'd surely die from all these positive comments. Never had he received so many before; at least, not under this roof. He peered into the trash can, paused a moment, then extracted the little note from it. He read it again:

Thanks for playing with us! You have a lovely smile. - Pinky

He settled on those last words again, for they stuck out to him.

You have a lovely smile.

And for a moment, though no one could see him, though no one was watching, he held the little note close to his chest, closed his eyes... and smiled.

-----------------------------

Author's Notes:

- Ferrum is the Latin term for Iron (Fe), which is sometimes found in paperclips.

- The nickname "Mr. B." is actually an obscure reference to another fandom I'm in. If you want the full story, message me. Heh.

- Globetrotter's reaction to Gadget being late was inspired by a friend's story in which one of her actual teachers would respond in a similarly harsh fashion to late students.

- Yes, Olivia's radish earrings are absolutely a reference to Luna Lovegood's equally unusual earrings.

- All of the information about meiosis I got directly from Wikipedia.

- The game show part of this story was my favorite part to write. Originally, I was going to have the whole thing be a lot more low-key, but this is technically a cartoon world, after all, so I figured... why not go all out?

- I finished this at 1:35 AM last night, two days after a surgery and while in pain. I have no regrets.

#pinky and the brain #fan fiction #syncytium

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