#most people were infected. you didn’t show any symptoms for a bit and then you’d be compelled to kill urself and once you died

[paterday]

I had a nightmare about the zombie apocalypse :(

[towerfandoms]

Hanahaki Disease

“When the victim coughs up petals from one sided love”

A/n: Ok so I know I have a bunch of requests to get through but I was reading about Hanahaki disease and thought about Khun and one thing led to another. Regardless I hope you enjoy this even though it’s longgggg. I just feel like this will help me get out of my writing slump so yeah enjoy. And please feedback is always appreciated. Part 2 is now up here

Genre: ANGST, ANGST, ANGSTY ANGST. idk did I mention angst?

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 2.2k

Aguero made it impossible not to believe in love at first sight. His angelic smile, velvety laugh, porcelain skin and his piercing, bright blue eyes. He was the definition of perfection. When you first met him you questioned if he was hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

Khun was a reserved man. He didn’t let many people in. Despite his cold and harsh exterior you had seen something else in his eyes; exhaustion, pain, a little bit of weariness. He was hurting, badly. That’s why you made it your mission to break down those barriers and offer him a little kindness. Try and ease his pain.

Your efforts eventually paid off. Khun considered you as one of his closest companions and cared deeply about you. Although he still couldn’t fully open up to you he let his guard down more around you. And in that moment that was enough.

With each test, every fight, every loss you two went through, the pain lessened knowing you had each other by your side. At first your attraction to him was purely superficial. Nothing more than a typical “high school crush”. However as the years went on these feelings developed into something much bigger. Every time your shoulders brushed it sent a fizzle of electricity down your spine. Or how the blood rushed straight to your face whenever he leaned down to inspect your wounds.

Slowly, everyone around you began to notice. It was to be expected really. Hell, you couldn’t even look at the blue haired man in the eye anymore. Even Bam, who was as dense as a brick, noticed your lingering eyes on Khun whenever he turned his back. If Bam noticed then there was no doubt Khun knew or at the very least had an inkling suspicion. Of course he stayed true to his ways, never letting you know whether he knew about your crush on him or not. Soon these feelings became something much harder to control. They were threatening to explode, crush you. You knew this wasn’t healthy. You had to do something about it. And soon.

So you did what you decided to be the most rational idea. You were going to confess. You were pretty sure he didn’t like you romantically. He never flirted or showed interest in anyone. You supposed he was much too busy trying to survive to court anyone but you still had a little shred of hope. Maybe you’d be the exception. Maybe he was waiting for you.

You shook your head trying to shake away these thoughts as you walked to his room. Getting your hopes up was far too risky especially as you were 99% sure of the outcome. Still it did ease your nerves and even added a light spring in your step as you walked through the hallway.

You slowed down as you neared Aguero’s room. Come on y/n. Now is no time to chicken out. You reached his door and breathed deeply. It’ll be ok no matter the answer. He likes you back, yay. If he doesn’t then that means you got closure and can finally go back to normal. So just knock already damn it. With that, you knocked sharply on the door three times.

You wanted to curl onto the floor and die. Why were you doing this. What if you ruined the friendship. Damn it, damn it, DA-

Your thoughts were interrupted by Khun opening the door. His face contorted in worry when he saw your scared expression.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?!”

“Can we talk inside please,” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Of course.” He opened the door further to let you inside.

When you stepped in, you knew it was now or never. So you let out a shaky breath and tried your best to speak normally.

“I know this is completely out of the blue but I came here to confess. I really like you, Khun. A lot more than friends do.” You nervously chuckled and looked down at the floor, avoiding his face. “Actually it’s be better to say I’m completely in love with you but i know you probably don’t feel the same way about me but i just felt like letting you know”

Only when you finished your tangent did you look back up at him. You expected to see a blank face, maybe surprised. Even a small smile. Not this. Not like he was in agony.

He looked like he was in so much pain it was all you could to stop yourself from reaching out and comforting him. There was something else though mixed with the pain. Pity. Complete and utter sadness… for you. You felt a sense of dread blossoming in the pit of your stomach.

The air felt heavy, it was a struggle to even breathe. Time felt so slow. What was happening? When did it get so cold? Why isn’t he answering?

However Khun smoothed out his features just as fast, quickly replacing the pain with a blank face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. You always prided yourself on being one of the only people who could tell what Khun was thinking and be able to read his face. But now, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

You were afraid.

You swallowed thickly, waiting for his response.

Time ticked by slowly. How long had it been? It felt like 10 minutes though you knew it couldn’t be more than 30 seconds. At last it seemed like Khun finally knew what to say. He opened his mouth to speak. You braced yourself for his harsh words. In fact you prayed they’d be cruel. Anything to help you get over him faster.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate your words and I do care a lot about you but… I’m sorry I don't feel the same. I know this sounds stupid but it would probably be the best for you to get over me.”

Quick answer him now so you can get out of here.

“Of course, I expected this. Thank you, Khun and have a good evening” You surprised yourself by giving him a big smile and quickly walking over to the door before you could hear if he said anything back. You half hoped he would run after you and tell you he shared the same feelings. But you knew this would never happen. Aguero was not this type of man.

He was kinder than expected when rejecting you but still. It hurt so much more than you would’ve thought. Although you expected that answer why was it not the closure you needed. Why did your heart still quicken at the thought of him. You felt tears threatening to spill and you raced to your room before you could see anyone.

Every day was becoming more and more painful. Even looking at Khun hurt. He treated you more or less the same way acting as though the confession never happened but there was a noticeable distance. He was probably trying to give you space and you hated it. Every second of this. Every step was excruciating pain. It took everything in you to hold it all in. To not break down at any second.

Then after a week when you thought you would’ve been over it, came the flowers. You didn’t notice at first how the pain in your lungs wasn’t normal. You chalked it down to heartbreak but when you began coughing up blue petals mixed with blood you knew this was far from normal.

The petals seemed oddly familiar. Blue Himalayan Poppies. Your favourite as they reminded you of Khun’s bright blue hair. Your chest hurt more at the thought. No matter what you did there were always constant reminders of him. You couldn’t escape. You let out an empty laugh. When will this pain end?

Wait- choking up petals??? It sounded familiar. Almost like an old tale your mother used to tell you about. You quickly searched up the symptoms on your pocket and found what you were looking for- Hanahaki Disease.

Hanahaki Disease: It’s a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear. There is also a chance the victim may forget their old lover.

Your eyes widened when you read through it. It described your predicament exactly. It was obvious you’d have to get surgery but the thought of forgetting Khun, forgetting your love for him seemed too real. You knew it was stupid clinging on to one sided love like that. But your love for him was one of the main things that had driven you up the tower. Now what. Everything seemed so bleak. You felt so lost and confused.

Stop it, stop it, stop it! You weren’t thinking properly. You had to get surgery. If you didn’t and died, Khun would blame himself. And besides you were in so much pain, it physically hurt to breathe. And these damned petals. Blue. Never letting you forget about your love for Khun. You tried not to think about how you could potentially forget about Khun. Those were just rare cases anyways. Best case scenario you’re fixed and can go back to caring about Khun normally. Like the old times. So you went to the hospital in the tower to get the surgery done.

You decided not to tell anyone about this. Maybe you’ll tell Endorsi after the surgery but she couldn’t be trusted not to blab. You didn’t tell Khun because you didn’t want him to blame himself. You never blamed him for a second. He was allowed not to love you back, as much as that thought hurts. Khun was driven by his desire to get you, Bam, Rak and himself to the top of the tower. Of course he wouldn’t have time to court anyone. You tried to console yourself with the thought that at least you were one his cherished companions. But now, it was ruined. You slapped the sides of ur head trying to get rid of these thoughts. No. after the surgery everything will be ok. You kept repeating this as you walked to the hospital, barely convincing yourself

The surgery was successful. All the roots were removed from your lungs and you could take deep breaths again without feeling like your chest was going to rip apart. However there was something off… you felt like you were forgetting something. But you just had surgery so it was to be expected with the anesthesia.

You didn’t remember the last time you felt this good. The air felt so light. You skipped along, feeling so happy and free. Breathing had never felt better and all you wanted to do was run and around and play like a kid again. Your thoughts were so positive and you couldn’t wait to go back. You had to hurry up though as you had another test soon and you needed to train. Maybe you’ll get Hatz to show you how to use a sword properly. He may seem rude and stand-offish at first he was a sweet boy deep down and you knew he’d be glad to help. Yes everything felt so much better after the surgery. You didn’t know why you hadn’t confessed earlier.

Confessed to who?

You brushed that thought off with still being groggy from anesthesia and nearly skipped up the steps of the penthouse. You felt so giddy and all you wanted to do was laugh and talk. You had a big smile on your face as you rooted through the fridge looking for something to eat. You were so lost in carefree thoughts that you didn’t hear someone creeping behind you.

“Y/n!” came a foreign voice startling you out of your pleasant thoughts. You stood there confused as you couldn’t pinpoint exactly whose voice it was, thought it was familiar.

You turned around, still with a smile on your lips.

“Hm?” you replied, taking in the sight of the person in front of you.

He had an angelic smile, velvety laugh, porcelain skin and piercing, bright blue eyes. He was the definition of perfection. You questioned to yourself if he was hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

“Are you ok? I haven’t seen you in a couple of days?”

“I’m so sorry if this sounds rude but do we know each other?”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Undercover Lover prt 10

10

Hannes wasn’t as Levi expected. Much older than Eren, the man seemed like a father figure to the now mostly unconscious Eren in the front of Levi’s car. Calling the number listed online for him, he’d had to start snapping at the receptionist before she’d take him seriously and put him through to Hannes. In his mind he didn’t quite sure what he’d conjured up about the man’s possible appearance, yet it wasn’t greying blond hair with a thin moustache, and the kind of aura you’d find radiating off the local drunk. Explaining he was in the car park with Eren Kruger, and giving a basic symptom rundown, Hannes seemed to have dropped everything to come to them, huffing and red faced as he gripped his chest.

Standing by the passenger door, Levi itched to do something. He’d held back smoking, as it seemed rude to smoke while Eren sat slumped in the seat beside him

“Levi... I assume... I’m Hannes...”

Hannes didn’t hold his hand out, Levi hadn’t wanted to shake it anyway

“He didn’t want to go to hospital. He’s been denying he’s sick”

Hannes nodded, squatting down to start examining Eren. Levi cringing in sympathy over the way Hannes’s knees cracked

“I did see him the other day. I have a fair idea what this is. He was supposed to come back and see me. You said he’s been vomiting?”

“Blood nose. Dizziness. Vomiting. Fever”

“Right. Help me get him up. Stupid damn fool. Always been a headstrong idiot”

So Hannes had known Eren for some time. Levi didn’t want to admit his alpha felt a little insulted. He nearly growled when Hannes helped him manoeuvre Eren out of the car to be supported by the two of them. He shouldn’t pry...

“You’ve known him for a while?”

“You could say that. You work for Rod?”

“Yeah. That’s how I know him”

“Ah! You must be the new hire. He mentioned he might have made a new friend. He could use a friend or two these days”

Levi’s heart went funny. The weird beat hard as his alpha puffed itself up with pride at being mentioned

“He mentioned me?”

“In passing. He mentioned it was nice not to be the newbie anymore”

Oh... was that all? Levi didn’t really want to talk about it anymore. Eren called him a friend, but he was hardly winning any awards. The brat probably trying to be polite

“Someone’s gotta be saddled with the shitty jobs. Where are we taking him?”

“I left the wheelchair at the door. I’ll take him through once we get there”

With Eren wheeled away from him, Levi was left in the emergency department. Hannes might be his... primary physician? but the man had no sway in the ED. Wearing a mask, like everyone else waiting, Levi supposed it was best they all were given he could smell the anger rolling off him at the situation. Masks were mandatory seeing so many people passed through and not everyone used products to cancel their scent. He’d been in too many emergency departments, seen too many shitty things. The place always bring up bad memories he wished time would hurry up and eradicate from his mind. The sooner Hannes came back to him, the better he’d feel about the situation. Erwin still hadn’t messaged him back, Levi staring at the phone screen half hoping he wouldn’t. He should have trusted Eren to tell him in his own time...

Left in the waiting room until his phone was barely hanging on at 3 percent, Hannes finally came out through the door seperate by the emergency department from the waiting room. The man scrubbing his face tiredly. Levi jumping to his feet, before correcting himself, trying not to look too worried for a man he barely knew. The last time he’d been this worried and worked up was when Farlan and Isabel had rolled their piece of shit car just after Isabel got her licence

“How is he?”

Sighing heavily, Hannes rubbed his face again. Levi semi wanting to shake him for sighing and not answering immediately. Obviously the man cared a lot for Eren

“He’ll be out this afternoon. Refuses to take time off work...”

That was fine and all, but that didn’t tell him what was wrong with Eren

“And?! He’s been sick for weeks”

Hannes chuckled. Levi supposed he had sounded a little whiny

“He’ll be fine. A bacterial infection, nothing antibiotics won’t knock on the head. We’ll monitor him for a few hours and if he’s doing better, he’ll be released. He’s been avoiding come back in since his medical. Now, do you have a few moments? I’d like to ask you more about how Eren is doing these days”

Unable to cast a glance back past Hannes without either leaning sideways or standing tip toe, Levi guessed he wouldn’t be seeing Eren again for the day

“I... don’t know if should”

“Humour an old man? I’ve known Eren since he was born, but he doesn’t open up much. Won’t talk about work or what he’s gotten himself into now”

Levi didn’t want to invade Eren’s privacy, buuuuut, he also wanted to know more about him, and not just what Erwin found out

“I suppose I can spare a little more time”

“Excellent. I had assumed you’d be the one taking Eren home, but not to worry. Thankfully I had a mostly clear schedule this afternoon, I’ll show you through to my office”

Great. He didn’t mind taking Eren home. Eren would probably protest and snark. At least the infection had been found and he’d be treated for it... Provided the kid could look after himself enough to take the shitty medication prescribed.

“Lead the way”

*

Hannes’s office suit was modest. A few drooping plants sat between blue waiting chairs. The walls decorated with outdated inspirational quotes. Waving at his rising receptionist, the woman dropped back down as Levi trailed after Hannes

“Just through here, it’s a bit of a walk. No one practices out of hospitals these days like they used to”

The alpha had no response for that. He had the feeling Hannes wasn’t an ordinary GP, which was confirmed when he stepped into the examination room and was confronted with all sorts of posters about beta dynamics

“Take a seat. Scotch or... scotch?”

Frowning heavily, Levi knew for a fact doctors weren’t supposed to be drinking at work. Hannes laughing at his expression

“Late nights can get pretty boring. I take it that’s a no?”

“I’m alright, thank you”

“You can take your mask off. We’ve got scent cancellers in the room”

He’d rather keep his mask on. The place might be organised, but who knew how many germs were slithering across the surfaces in the room. Still, he was the one that’d followed Hannes, he should at least be civil. Taking the mask off, he stuffed it in his pocket, the air indeed devoid of most scents, but he was struck by how strongly his own scent was flowing off him. He smelt worried, setting off his alpha despite the fact it was own scent.

Pouring himself a shot of scotch, Hannes quickly downed it before placing the bottle and glass away in the bottom drawer of his desk

“That’s better. Now, Levi, tell me how you know Eren”

“I met him at the garage. He was stuck babysitting me”

The pout in his tone was clear, Hannes chuckling

“You’re the new hire. He said as much. Does he do a good job?”

“He takes pride in what he does. No one works as much, or as hard, as he does”

Levi felt pride in how hard Eren worked. He could slack off, but instead he put everything he had into the garage

“He’s always been like that. He was never the best and brightest, but what he lacked he made up for in determination. Has he spoken of his past?”

“He tends not to”

Eren was a mystery in so many ways. For instance why he was drawn to the man who was ridiculously fucking tall in comparison

“Ah. Well. I suppose with a past like his... He’s not one to open up about what he wants. Hell, we’ve all tried to support him, but he insists on going it alone...”

Levi nodded

“Yeah. He’s been fucking sick for weeks. Wouldn’t listen to anyone about it”

“Hmmm... And the garage?”

“He’s been coming to work, if that’s what you mean?”

“I mean does he get along with the alphas there?”

What kind of a question was that?

“You’re always going to have a pissing match when you’ve got a group of alphas. I wouldn’t say he’s close to anyone”

“He’s close to you”

“That’s because he got stuck showing me the ropes”

“And did those ropes involve the two of you ending up in bed?”

Levi spluttered. How the fuck did Hannes know about that?!

“I suspected it was you. I caught your scent on him when he came in for his medical”

Fucking sprung

“That was a drunken accident. Neither of us know how it happened”

A strange expression crossed Hannes’s face, the man turning his attention to his computer. If he had something to say, he should just spit it out rather than pussyfooting around

“Look, you dragged me here to ask me about Eren, knowing as much as you did. Isn’t it about time you told me what was going on!?”

“I’m afraid that’s for Eren to explain. I will tel you there’s been a shift in his dynamic since meeting you. That’s to be expected when a dominant alpha comes into the workplace. Do you mind if I take a swab of your glands?”

“Do you mind if I tell you to fuck off if you’re going to keep evading my questions?”

Most people would have been upset, Hannes laughing almost merrily

“Oh, I can see why you two get along. Look, Eren has a complicated past. He’s not one to get close to anyone anymore. He’s been dumped and cheated on, been accused of some pretty serious stuff. I’d like to know more about the man he’s gotten close to”

Levi felt instant anger. If you weren’t happy in a relationship then the only logical thing to do was leave, not fucking sleep around

“There isn’t romantic there, if that’s what you’re reply”

“I’m hoping for his happiness. I know the garage isn’t exactly legal. I know the kinds of people Rod employees, and I know Eren keeps saying he only needs to stick it out a few more months, but I care about him like he was a son. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“You don’t want a ruffian like me fucking him up”

“There’s that. For a beta, Eren has an unusual constitution. He’ll never ask for anything, leaving him to be fucked over when things go wrong. I’m honestly relieved he’s found someone to be there”

Eren was a beta? That made no sense. Beta’s didn’t hiss or growl. Nor did they leak scent... He must be a beta-alpha who’d slid closer towards beta on the scale. Without scent cancellers, the slide in dynamics was pretty common until people became bonded with their partner

“So this change in dynamic, is it physically affecting him?

“More so than I’ve ever seen...”

Levi’s stomach dropped. His presence clearly making Eren ill, and Eren hadn’t said a damn thing. Hannes continuing

“... that’s why I’d like to swab your scent glands, with permission”

Levi had had no clue. No clue he was making Eren sick... Did Eren know? Was there more to this than a claimed “infection”? Like the change in dynamic had left his immune system weakened? Levi had always been a dominant alpha since he’d presented, not that people could usually tell from his short stature. Normally he wouldn’t be so ruffled, yet this was the first time he’d known his presence to make anyone physically ill. His alpha felt stricken to the point of near dramatics over this turn in events

“I didn’t... I didn’t know. I use cancellers...”

“I’m sure you do, but they can also be rendered ineffective on some dominant alphas”

“Uh. Yeah. I mean, if it’ll help him out...”

“Excellent. Now, this won’t hurt a bit. I’ll get it out the way and send it off for processing, then we can kick back until they let me know it’s time for Eren to be released”

Wait? How was being around him going to make Eren feel any better?

“Should... I really be around him if I make him ill?”

“I can’t let him go home alone. He’ll need rest and plenty of fluids. I’ll also need to give you a letter to hand to Rod to explain Eren’s absence. Rod might think him violent, but I’m sure there’s more to the story than what meets the eye”

“Is that something to do with Eren’s past?”

Hannes seemed flustered at Levi pulling him up

“Ah, I’ve said too much. You’re best off talking to him, but don’t be to surprised if he brushes it off. He seems to be the only one who knows anything about what actually happened, and tabloids always blow things out of proportion. You can’t always rely on what’s reported. Think of it as doing this old man a favour”

He didn’t owe Hannes anything. Nor was he about to do him a favour. Having Eren now pushed onto him, that’d mean taking Eren back to his apartment as there was no way the beta was handling stairs in his condition. No. He’d do Eren the favour and repay his kindness that first night, but Hannes had nothing to do with it. As it was, he really shouldn’t be consenting to anything

“Tch. Fine. Let’s just get this shitty test out the way”

[daesungfmd]

𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓.

solo 6  /  wc: 1,921

moral of the story: hwang daesung is a menace. (tw: blood, needles mentioned in a brief anecdote in the context of piercings).

his intentions are cloudy, unreadable ―

he’s a boy who smiles so bright that it seems like he’s in a competition with the sun, talks circles around anyone who’ll listen, begging them to show some interest in the smaller parts of his life. but by the time he’s eight years old, teachers are already writing home about how disruptive he is in class, how he cuts them off mid-lesson to inquire about the color of their cheeks. (”he asked if my skin color is a result of high blood pressure,” one teacher writes, not quite angry, but far from amused. “he doesn’t seem to know how to keep his thoughts to himself”.)

it seems like he never learns, either.

his parents tell him not to answer the door if neither of them are home alone. it’s dangerous, they say, and he humors them by pretending to agree, though his personal belief is that the most dangerous thing in the apartment building is the landlord’s tendency to come looking for day-late rent first thing in the morning with un-brushed teeth. (”does our rent buy your toothpaste?” he asks one morning, in the middle of getting ready for school. the landlord doesn’t think it’s funny, and neither does daesung’s mom as she apologizes on his behalf, stalling while she comes up with some excuse as to why they can’t pay yet. but he sees the smile his dad’s trying to hide, and that makes the scolding that comes later feel worthwhile.)

he listens to the radio too loud while he does chores or pretends to do his homework, turns it up even louder when the lady from apartment 308 comes knocking at the door, undoubtedly to tell him to keep it down in there. there comes a day when he finally opens the door, ignoring every warning his parents had so persistently burned into his mind. before she can speak a single word, he takes the chance to say, “my dad told me you’re angry all the time ‘cause you’re going through a mid-life crisis. i thought you’d be older.” 

he watches her mouth open, close, open, then close again ― evidently, she doesn’t know what to say. when she speaks, her tone reeks of momentary defeat. “your dad told me that you’re eleven, so i thought you’d have learned how to be respectful by now. i guess we were both wrong.”

“i guess so.” the door shuts, locks. he turns the radio back on, louder.

as emotional intelligence puts roots in his brain, acts of blatant disrespect become less frequent but he’s still difficult to predict, impossible to control. a diagnosis of adhd at age 13 turns out to be half the explanation for his fluctuating energy levels, lack of impulse control and forgetfulness, but the consequences of these symptoms are still attributed to having no manners, no home training. condescension from teachers leads to an inherent disdain for a school system that doesn’t serve him, and it turns into hatred the first time his 8th grade homeroom teacher calls him out for the eyeliner he’s wearing.

“the girls aren’t allowed to wear makeup to school, so what made you believe that it would be okay for you to do so?” he asks right after attendance, staring 14-year old daesung in the eyes. he’s lost somewhere between not caring at all and being on high-alert from the embarrassment of the whole class turning to look at him, at his eyes.

“i didn’t realize that the girls had anything to do with me,” he snaps, smart-ass tone contradicting the nervous cracking of his knuckles. “there’s nothing about makeup in the boys’ dress code. if it’s that big of a deal, maybe it should be updated. let me know when it is.”

it’s a terrible way to start off 8th grade year, results in a series of miniature battles between him and the teacher. back-talking that lands him in the hallway with a stack of textbooks held over his head, though they’re dropped on the ground as soon as he’s not being watched ― he takes time-outs as personal breaks, which is later called defiance though it seems like his teacher has no desire to take daesung’s behavioral issues to anyone higher in the chain. on the occasions that he has gate duty, he always calls daesung out, makes him wait ‘til the gates close, then marks him tardy and makes him run laps first thing in the morning.

fair enough.

daesung’s playing a slow game, though, and he eventually lets his teacher think that he’s won. he stops wearing the eyeliner until finals season comes, and then he packs it on heavy, aiming to be called out. the eyeliner isn’t the surprise, though ― it’s the needle and ring in his pocket, pulled out after he’s done scrubbing his makeup off in the sink.

it’s a move made in an act of immature rebellion, and he knows that the purchase hadn’t been the best use of his accumulated lunch money. even as he leans in closer to the mirror, gets the ring attached to the needle and takes aim, he thinks about how the how-to page he’d read had specifically said not to do this in a dingy bathroom, and here he is ―

what’s the worst that can happen?

one, two, oh, fuck. he’s not expecting the blood, and he’s certainly not expecting to have to push and prod the needle until it finally slips through, and he’s not prepared to have to tug at the ring to get it to come loose from the needle and sit presentably on his lip. by the time he’s done, his eyes are bloodshot from unshed tears. he spits one final time, splashes cold sink water against his teeth and against the piercing to wash away the remnants of red. 

it doesn’t turn out to be the power-move he expects it to be, because the school year comes to a close two weeks later and all he’s got to show for it is an infuriated mother, a handful of kids who think he’s lost his mind and a near-infected lip.

it seems to be the last of his raging rebellion ― anger dispels, mischief takes its place. he ends up a trainee under one of the biggest idol companies in the country, and no one fully understands ― not even the other trainees, given the all work and no play expectations shaken by his all play and no work mentality. it feels like all the company employees have his picture and name on some secret list because every time something goes wrong, he’s the first to be questioned. not that he doesn’t deserve it, though; he’s the boy who convinces in-house chefs that yes, he’s supposed to be given bigger portions than everyone else, it’s a health condition. he’s the boy who disrupts practice hours by connecting his phone to blue-tooth speakers. he’s the boy who hides from his responsibilities in narrow, dim corners. he’s the boy everyone expects to drop out, or be kicked out ―

not to be selected for a competition show.

it clears his assumptions that the company has some kind of personal vendetta against him, but it doesn’t make him take the situation more seriously in any way. during his first personal interview, he’s asked, “what do you think you bring to the competition?” and instead of giving an immediate answer, he plays dumb. he doesn’t know why he does it. it’s an impulse, maybe meant to draw time out, make things a little more complicated than they have to be.

“this is a competition?” he questions, and after slowly nodding along to an explanation that he’d already heard an abundance of times, his answer is, “i’m bringing the spirit. i’ll make it fun.”

as the show progresses, the clueless act strengthens ― he’s always asking why, why, why, like a kid on a mission to irritate their parents. criticism sets in, both from instructors and at-home viewers. he hardly cares.

by the time that debut comes, everyone’s made their minds up about him already.

he’s shameless. he’s dense. he’s dumb.

he supposes that they’re not wrong, though; there’s certainly something shameless in the way he interrupts and talks over others, on a constant mission to steal the spotlight. it’s too much, he’s told. he’s too much. a reputation that follows him around for years to come, even once he picks some locks and sneaks his way right into the public’s hearts. he’s annoying in an endearing way, and after a bit of trial and error, he learns just the right ways to draw laughter from crowds ― decides that if he can just make people laugh, they’ll learn to love him. if he can bring a little bit of happiness, then the inconveniences that come with his presence will always be forgiven.

it’s this inherent trust in his ability to be forgiven that he continues to push his luck, break rules, let reminders go in one ear and out the other ―

he’s told that dating is discouraged, but dating fans is completely banned. naturally, his first girlfriend is someone he met at a signing. when he gets caught―not by a manager, but by a close friend―his excuse is that he didn’t know because she never explicitly stated that she knew anything about impulse. (a blatant lie, if her profile picture of their logo is anything to go by).

he sweet-talks his manager into letting him use his card for dinner, promises to return it soon ― then goes clubbing instead and buys rounds for the pretty girl who keeps one hand on his knee, then on his shoulder, then around his shoulders; getting closer and closer, then leaving as soon as he stops paying. (i was hungry, he lies, and i wanted something expensive).

he’s reminded well in advance to be prepared for one of impulse’s trips abroad, then waits until twenty minutes before boarding to reveal that he doesn’t know where his passport is. watches chaos unfold, and pulls his passport out of his pocket with five minutes to spare. “i guess i didn’t stick my hand deep enough in my pocket,” he shrugs, howling with laughter during a sprint across the building, convinced that his group and manager’s annoyance with him won’t last. 

he’s called out for scratching his head too much, comes across a compilation while sneaking around on stan twitter. he can hear a manager’s voice in the back of his head, telling him he should never post anything that could cause a scandal or address any rumors without consulting the company first. naturally, he spends three hours perfecting an apology letter for having lice ― something that isn’t true, but causes a minor stir all the same.

before he knows it, he’s twenty-four and he’s still too much, always too much. it doesn’t matter how mellow he thinks he’s becoming, the reminders that he needs to grow up seem to be lurking around every corner. he nods along absently, but nothing seems to change, and he only reveals the mature side of him―the part that became an adult long before adulthood hit―in fleeting moments, or when he’s with his closest friends.

in any other situation, he remains hwang daesung, the jester. the menace. the prankster. the inconvenience. whatever nickname is bestowed upon him, he’ll accept; he has no interest in telling people what they should or shouldn’t think of him. 

he never has.

[jhl1031973]

Unpublished Work - Doctor Who: Advent Of Terror

This is my fourth entry in Big Finish Productions' Paul Spragg Memorial Short Trip Opportunity. None of my work has been chosen, but there will be other chances. This one features the Seventh Doctor and Ace. Enjoy andSubmitted For Your Approval.

- James Heath Lantz November 2, 2020

Advent Of Terror

A Short Trip Starring The Seventh Doctor And Ace

By

James Heath Lantz

The Snow came down slowly. The multitude of colours from the numerous Christmas lights and decorations reflected upon the white landscape. The village of Ortonshire looked picturesque, like a greeting card a friend or relative would send. The small hamlet was known worldwide for its Christmas celebration from late November until early January. The local candy factory made Advent Calendars that were shipped everywhere from London, England and Paris, France to Alberta, Canada and Tuscany, Italy. People of all walks of life came from everywhere to experience what newspapers and magazines over the years named “The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World”. Celebrities, especially writers, would visit on their vacations. Rumours had circulated about  Amelia Earhart, Winston Churchill, Shirley Jackson, J.R.R. Tolkien, Ernest Hemingway, Anne Rice, Stephen King and Clive Barker walking the streets to take in the magnificence of Ortonshire. One innkeeper's grandmother even claims that Mary Shelley wrote the final chapter of Frankenstein in the room that belonged to her Great Aunt Sadie on Boxing Day.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in Ortonshire when the TARDIS had materialized in front of the largest Christmas tree to be placed in the town square in perhaps half a decade. The doors creaked open. The Doctor, in his seventh incarnation, placed his hat upon his head as he walked out of the time machine. He took a deep breath to take in the crisp winter air. There was a twinkle in his eye when he saw the lavishly decorated village.

“Come along, Ace,” The Doctor called to his companion with hint of impish glee in his Scottish burr. “The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World awaits us.”

Ace buttoned up her coat before the Doctor closed the TARDIS doors. The Doctor looked at the Christmas tree. “Perhaps we should move the TARDIS a bit. It could ruin the view of the tree,” The Doctor pondered out loud.

The Doctor and Ace returned to the TARDIS. The ship disappeared some seconds later. After five or six attempts, it reformed just outside of the village's city limits. The Doctor and Ace were greeted by the words “Happy Christmas from” written in red and green Christmas lights over the Ortonshire sign. The Doctor silently noted that the population number was covered by snow. However, he thought nothing of it after seeing Ace smile. With everything she and the Doctor had been through, they both deserved a little holiday cheer.

“I must say,” The Doctor said as he and Ace walked through the snow covered thoroughfare and looked at the beautiful ornaments and lights of various brilliant hues, “The human capacity for celebration and decoration surpasses that of destruction at this time of year.”

Ace and the Doctor continued their stroll. The Doctor was particularly enchanted by a group of snowmen dressed like Father Christmas. He and Ace had a long, hearty laugh at the sight of them. They then resumed walking until they saw three rows of ice sculptures. The Doctor took time to admire the beauty and craftsmanship. The attention to detail on an angel astounded him. Something also look frighteningly familiar about it. Yet, he could not put his finger on what that was.

"Professor," Ace said inquiringly, interrupting the Doctor's reverie, "Where are all the people?”

"I'm sorry, Ace. What?"

“The people. There should be at least one crowd of people if this is The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World like you said. Even the shops we passed along the way were empty, and it's barely seven o'clock.”

“My goodness, Ace. You're right,” The Doctor observed. “I was so taken by the splendour and wonder of Ortonshire, I failed to notice the most important thing you had just pointed out. What happened to all the people?”

Before the Doctor could even think to investigate his inquiry, a pair of hands belonging to someone behind him had grabbed his arms. Another had done the same to Ace. They had not heard the sound of footfalls running toward them. A tall woman in a yellow hazmat suit moved in front of the Doctor and Ace. Her facial features were obscured by her protective mask. She pointed her gloved left index finger at them as she spoke sternly in a Northern English accent.

“What the devil are you two doing here?” She asked.

*

The Doctor and Ace were brought to the Leverton Military Base just a few miles east of Ortonshire, which had recently been used as a headquarters for pandemic responses in the past decade or so. Blood samples were taken from the Doctor and Ace before they were led to a decontamination room. The Doctor told Ace that they must go through the procedure for everyone's protection. They were cleansed with chemicals, soap and water before putting on grey jumpsuits to while their clothing was being sterilized. They were dressed normally some hours later.

A guard brought the Doctor and Ace to an interrogation room. On the way there, the Doctor noted that the TARDIS was being rather unsuccessfully examined an adjacent laboratory. He began to chuckle upon seeing a scientist in a hazmat suit fall when the ship gave him an electrical shock. The Time Lord then thought it best to move on. He and Ace entered the medium sized, sparsely furnished room. They were ordered to wait for a Doctor Henderson to question them.

The Doctor, umbrella under his arm, paced. Ace sat in a folding chair. She followed the Time Lord's movements with her eyes. “Do they think we did something wrong, Professor?” She asked with hint of preoccupation in her voice.

“I'm not sure, Ace,” The Doctor replied. “I wonder if our being here is connected to the missing people of Ortonshire.”

The Doctor continued pacing the room. This time he did so while playing the spoons. This went on for roughly fifteen minutes. Ace wanted to protest this action, but The Doctor's expression told her that he was concentrating on the situation. He checked his fob watch when a tall, pale woman with long, dark, curly hair and horn rimmed glasses entered. On the left breast of her long white coat was a badge identifying as Doctor Carol Henderson, Head of Project PANVAC.

Project PANVAC is a team of scientists and military personnel created to study viruses and pandemics to prevent their spread and create vaccines should they be needed. They banded together with funds from various governments worldwide after so many lives were lost in the past couple years to new strains of illnesses that had mutated considerably.

The Doctor closed his fob watch and lamented, “You took your own sweet time getting here.”

“Sorry if my needing to decontaminate myself and my security officers is an inconvenience,” Doctor Henderson responded sarcastically. “Now, would you mind telling me who you are and what you two were doing in a quarantined area?”

“Quarantined area?” The Doctor asked in surprise. “We knew nothing of a quarantine. We'd only just arrived. We're not even from around here.”

“By your accent, I'd guess you're from Scotland,” Henderson responded.

“You'd be quite surprised, I'm sure. Anyhow, I am the Doctor, and she is my friend and associate Ace.”

“Doctor is a title, not a name. For example, I'm Doctor Carol Henderson.”

“For you, dear Doctor Henderson, it's a title. For me, it's a name.”

"Very well, Doctor," Henderson said with a hint of irritation. "Now, tell me what you were doing in a quarantined area.”

“We didn't know about any quarantine,” Ace said impatiently.

“Stay calm, Ace,” The Doctor said, raising his right hand slightly. He turned to Doctor Henderson. “She is quite correct. We came to Ortonshire because of its reputation for Christmas celebration. We had no idea any quarantine had been put into place.”

Before Doctor Henderson could respond, someone had knocked on the interrogation room door. She opened it and stuck her head out the other side. Someone had told her the secretary-general of the United Nations wanted to speak with her. She left and returned some twenty minutes later. The Doctor looked at Henderson in an attempt to anticipate what she will do and say next.

Henderson took a deep breath. “Apparently,” She said to the Doctor, “I'm supposed to trust you. After I mentioned 'The Doctor' to the secretary-general of the United Nations, he ordered me to allow you assist Project PANVAC if you wish to do so.”

“Yes. Of course, I'd be happy to help if I can.”

“The U.N. has quite a detailed file on you.”

“Yes,” The Doctor said, “You can thank those busy bodies at U.N.I.T. for that.” He walked toward Doctor Henderson. “Now, what exactly are we dealing with here, Doctor Henderson?”

“It started three days ago with some children who were building a snowman near the forest at Ortonshire's southern border. A boy named Charlie Wright was the first to exhibit symptoms. He complained of a headache after returning home. The local doctor found he had a very high fever before the lad lost consciousness. His three friends – another boy and two girls had similar symptoms as the evening had progressed.”

“Let's see,” The Doctor pondered, “Three days ago was December 1st. Go on, Doctor.”

“My team and were called when infection spread to the adults and other children. The local physician told us  that all the patients exhibited something odd on the skin about an hour before we arrived in Ortonshire.”

“Odd in what way, Doctor?”

Doctor Henderson paused for a moment. She seemed to searching for an appropriate description. Swallowing her pride and perhaps realizing the Doctor was no threat, she spoke.

“Perhaps it's better to show you, Doctor.”

*

Doctor Henderson's gloved hand punched a numeric code on a security keypad to the right of a metallic door. The Doctor put on a surgical mask and latex gloves while following her. The door slid open. They briskly walked down an empty, bright white corridor. The doctors were greeted by a burly security guard upon Henderson's explanation of the Doctor's presence. She had told him the Time Lord was there on orders from the United Nations. The Doctor tipped his hat before entering the patient's quarters.

Charlie Wright was a sandy haired, frail boy who looked to be no more than ten years of age. He lay dormant in the hospital bed. The Doctor looked at a copy of Charlie's file. With Doctor Henderson to his right, the Doctor examined the boy closely. His skin was chalk white with blue, green and grey vine-like tendrils all over his body. His pupils, irises and the whites of his eyes were clouded over in the same green/blue/grey hue.

“The vines are attached well,” Doctor Henderson said. “Scissors and knives were unable to cut them. Fire only activates the sprinkler system.”

The Doctor took a closer look at the vines. The Doctor said, “We may not need to do that if we can get a blood sample.”

“I'd like to get a sample of them as well to study this more thoroughly.”

“Understandable. A low level laser might be able burn off a piece without harming young Charlie here. Now, tell me. Is Ortonshire the only area infected, Doctor Henderson?”

“According to our facilities in other parts of the world, the illness is contained within the vicinity of Ortonshire. No other village, city, country or continent has had any reports of symptoms like these for now,” Henderson replied while indicating the tendrils.

“Then it's not too late,” The Doctor said hopefully, “We may be able find a cure before this spreads worldwide. Now, somebody get me that laser.”

*

Ace was in the laboratory where the TARDIS was being examined. She had been ordered to where a hazmat suit for her protection. The scientists who were studying the ship were amazed. They had no idea what they were dealing with. One man even approached the TARDIS doors with a large drill in hand. Ace laughed.

“You'll never open the TARDIS with that,” Ace observed.

“What?” The scientist with the drill asked.

“I'm afraid she is quite correct, sir. Your drill won't open my TARDIS,” The Doctor said. “Now, put that thing away. The TARDIS is perfectly safe. Stop wasting time, and point us in the direction of Doctor Henderson's office.”

The scientist indicated a corridor to his left. “You can't miss it. Her name's on the door,” He said sheepishly.

The Doctor turned his head in the direction of the TARDIS. He was clearly irritated. He muttered something under his breath. Ace couldn't quite make out what he said, but she giggled. There was something amusing and sweet about the Doctor when his dander was up. Ace told the Doctor that they arrived at Doctor Henderson's office, Now all they had to do was wait for her to arrive with the laser needed to take the sample of the virus vine. Hours had passed. The Doctor used this time to read Doctor Henderson's extensive research on viruses, pandemics and cures. He had finished reading her most recent paper when the head of project PANVAC entered the room with the surgical laser in hand.

Doctor Henderson and the Doctor went to Charlie's bedside. The Time Lord prepared the laser. He double checked its parameters to make certain it was set at minimum intensity. He didn't want to unnecessarily injure the boy in his efforts to save him. The narrow red beam hit a vine on the boy's wrist. A small chunk of about the size of a newborn kitten's toenail fell on to the white bed sheet. The Doctor placed it in a vial with a pair of tweezers. The Doctor and Doctor Henderson took the sample in thee latter's office. The head of Project PANVAC looked at it through a microscope. She was stymied and shocked by her findings.

“Doctor,” Henderson said, “Have a look at this.”

The Doctor looked into the microscope. “Very interesting indeed,” He commented.

“You don't seem as surprised as I am,” Henderson observed. “It has characteristics of a virus. However, I've never seen anything like it.”

“There is nothing like it,” The Doctor said, “At least on Earth.”

“Are you saying this virus is alien?”

“Doctor Henderson,” The Doctor began, “You're a brilliant virologist. I finished reading your papers while waiting for the laser.”

“Those are roughly thirty years of work consisting of thousands of pages,” Henderson said in a surprised tone. “It would take me at least three years to read them again.”

“I'm a fast reader,” The Doctor commented, “As I was saying, you're a brilliant virologist, doctor. Yet, you have a habit of doing what most scientists tend to do. You limit the scope of your search for answers.”

Ace had been sitting in a chair across from Doctor Henderson's desk. She was positively amused by the exchange between the doctors. She did nothing to repress her smile and laughter.

“So you are saying it's alien,” Henderson said, ignoring Ace.

“Not all alien life forms are little green men, doctor,” The Doctor responded.

“Some are Daleks or Cybermen,” Ace interjected.

“Not now, Ace,” The Doctor said gently.

“How do you know it's alien, Doctor?” Henderson asked.

“That isn't the important question, Doctor Henderson. How did the virus get to Ortonshire, and how do we cure it? Those are the inquiries you must ask if we are help the infected and prevent the spread to the rest of the world.”

The Doctor snapped his fingers and ran toward the nearest exit. Doctor Henderson followed him.

“Where are you going, Doctor?” She asked, pursuing him.

“I need to get to the TARDIS!” He called as he ran further away. “There's no time to lose!”

*

Ace, still in the hazmat suit, entered the TARDIS. The Doctor ran to the controls, pressed buttons and flipped switches. The doors closed.

“You won't be needing that, Ace,” The Doctor said, indicating her hazmat suit. “We're perfectly safe in the TARDIS.”

Removing the protective head piece and mask, Ace asked, “Shouldn't we be saving the people in Ortonshire, Professor?

The Doctor hadn't taken his eyes and hands away from the TARDIS controls. “That's exactly why we've returned to the TARDIS, Ace. If I'm right, the illness is not of Earthly origin.”

“So we're going find who created it?”

“Not exactly,” The Doctor answered. “We are, however, going to see how it began.”

“Couldn't we prevent the infection from coming to Ortonshire?”

“As much as it pains me, Ace, I'm afraid not. We're merely going back in time to see how the virus got to Ortonshire.”

Ace looked disappointed. “Don't look so glum, Ace,” The Doctor said. “We'll find a way to cure every sick person in Ortonshire. I just need to confirm a theory first.”

Ace was reassured by this by the time the TARDIS returned to Ortonshire's city limits near the village sign some days before their initial arrival. Christmas lights shined their rainbow of hues upon the box, perhaps as a signal of hope for things to come. The Doctor and Ace heard the town square's clock tower's bells toll. It was midnight. The Doctor checked his fob watch to be sure. He clicked it shut and sat down on the ground in front of the TARDIS doors. Ace sat next to him, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“What are we doing now, Doctor?” Ace asked.

“Waiting, Ace. We're waiting.”

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor looked at his watch again. He then turned his gaze to the sky.

“It should be arriving,” He said, “Now.”

The Doctor and Ace looked up. A shooting star streaked across the night sky, its fiery tail blazing through the starry backdrop. A meteor was clearly burning upon entering Earth's atmosphere. Small, flaming bits of the space rock crash landed. One had come close to striking the Doctor had Ace not pushed him out of the the way.

Ace helped the Doctor to his feet. He thanked her and dusted himself off. He returned to the TARDIS to get a long pair of tongs and a cylindrical lead container. The Doctor placed the meteorite inside the canister before walking into Ortonshire. Ace followed closely.

“Where are we going, Doctor?” Ace asked.

“We need to make sure no other meteorites in the area, Ace.”

“Shouldn't we get more of those lead cylinders from the TARDIS?”

“There's no need,” The Doctor answered with a twinkle of pride in his eye. “Much like the TARDIS, this receptacle is bigger on the inside. Now, come along, Ace. We have lives to save.”

*

Doctor Henderson made her rounds to check the infected somewhere around midnight. She entered Charlie Wright's room. She looked briefly at his file. As she looked up from the folder, the pale boy covered in vines did something that startled her. He sat up. She called his name, but there was no response. His face was cold and without expression. This brought a shiver of terror to Doctor Henderson.

Charlie got out of bed. Doctor Henderson overcame her apprehension and called the young man's name. The only responses were a chillingly vacant look in her direction accompanied by an eerie silence. Charlie marched out of the room. Doctor Henderson, her curiosity outweighing her fear, followed the boy. He didn't seem to notice her behind him. Perhaps in his current state, he didn't even perceive her presence as a threat.

Charlie had joined another group of the infected. Others followed suit. The crowd became overwhelming. Doctor Henderson had lost her balance. She placed her hands in front of her person to break her fall. Her moving forward did nothing to distract the patients from getting to their destination. Henderson saw that the rest of the Project PANVAC team was following the entranced people with tendrils all over their bodies.

The marching had stopped outdoors. Henderson noted they were in the Ortonshire village square. The colours of the Christmas tree's lights, especially the red and green, made the infected look more menacing and frightening. Doctor Henderson gulped saliva to moisten her previously dry throat. She looked around  The faces of Project PANVAC's personnel mirrored the question that was on mind.

What do these people want?

*

The Doctor and Ace had been collecting meteorites for the better part of two hours when they returned to the TARDIS. They had a dozen of the space rocks inside the container. The Doctor worked the ship's controls allowing it to materialize in front of an elaborately decorated wooden cottage. He checked the date. It was December 1st.

The house was surrounded by a white picket fence. Gold garland and small red and green lights trimmed the structure. Brightly lit statues of a snowman and Father Christmas were placed on the left and right sides of the gate behind the TARDIS. The snowman's left hand touched a red postal box with an address written on the side. The Doctor read it aloud.

“17 Miller Road,” He said, “If I recall correctly, young Charlie Wright lives here. We should investigate here for clues to how he became ill.”

The front door was unlocked, and the light within were still turned on, meaning the family left in a hurry. The Doctor and Ace moved quietly. They entered the front room to find an Advent Calender on the coffee table adjacent to the Christmas tree and television. It had an image of two children, a dark haired boy and a blonde girl, in Christmas pyjamas looking in amazement at the numerous presents under the tree. The square for December  1st had been opened.

“Doctor,” Ace said holding the Advent Calender. She indicated the empty square. “Look.”

“Yes, Ace, it's an Advent Calender. They're quite common at Christmas time.”

“No, look closer,” Ace insisted.

“Goodness, Ace, you're right,” The Doctor said upon further examination of the empty square. He saw bits of green dust inside. He put on latex gloves to take a sample of it. He and Ace returned to the TARDIS to study the weird powder. The Doctor looked worried after about fifteen minutes.

“I think, Ace,” He said, “We may have missed a meteorite somewhere.”

*

The Ortonshire Candy Factory was on the east end of the village. The TARDIS had arrived not long before the meteor shower had begun. The Doctor started a countdown. A meteorite crashed through one of the factory's windows the moment after the Doctor had finished. It had landed in a vat of chocolate unbeknownst to anyone working there. The mixing process had turned the rock to dust. The chocolate was then used in the sweets for the Advent Calenders.

The Doctor snapped his fingers and looked at Ace. “There's a slim chance,” He said, “But we going to have go with your plan, Ace.”

“My plan?”

“I'll explain later. We need to return to the TARDIS.”

The time machine vanished. It reappeared inside the factory this time. It hovered over the vat of chocolate. The Doctor stood in the ships opened doorway with a long mechanical arm device in his hands, He used a joystick to move it left and right, up and down until its two prongs grabbed the meteorite in the moment before it landed in the chocolate. The Time Lord returned inside to calculate his next move. He configured the TARDIS controls.

“Now,” He said to Ace, “If this is timed correctly, we can place this rock we caught somewhere our previous rock hunting selves will find it, thereby preventing it from contaminating the candy factory's chocolate and any infection in Ortonshire.”

“There's one thing I don't get, Professor,” Ace said. “How was this my plan?”

“It was you, dear Ace, who asked if we could prevent the infection from coming to Ortonshire. Now, put that hazmat suit back on, and prepare your throwing arm. We're almost where we need to be.”

The TARDIS whirled and twirled in the air. The Doctor opened door after checking the ship's location.

“When I say go, Ace,” The Doctor said as he opened the door, “ Throw the meteorite.”

“I hope this works, Professor.”

“I've seen you launch explosives at Daleks, Ace. You'll do brilliantly.”

He looked down at the street a few steps in front of the candy factory. “Now, Ace! Now!”

Ace's gloved hand hurled the meteorite with the might and determination of David against Goliath. IT landed near a tree less than an inch away from Ace's previous self. The Doctor closed the door, scanned Ace for infection and radiation and smiled.

“Excellent throwing, Ace. If all went well, Our next trip to Ortonshire will be a happier one.”

The TARDIS was now on the moon, time was catching up with itself as The Doctor and Ace's previous selves disappeared with all of Ortonshire's meteorites. The Doctor looked inside the container. There were thirteen plus five they had missed before.

“Ah yes,” The Doctor said, “We did another survey of Ortonshire after taking the rock you threw.”

The Doctor and Ace returned to Ortonshire's sign. The Time Lord opened the TARDIS doors. He exited to admire how beautifully lit the words Happy Christmas were. The Doctor took a deep breath with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Come along, Ace,” The Doctor called. “The Most Magical Christmas Village In The Entire World awaits us once more.”

Ace came out of the TARDIS just as a portly man with a white beard dressed as Father Christmas approached the Doctor. He grinned broadly as he spoke to them.

“Happy Christmas, folks. Welcome to Ortonshire,” The man said jovially.

“Happy Christmas to you as well, my good man,” The Doctor responded with a tip of his hat. This is Ace, and I'm the Doctor.

“Pleased to meet both of you,” The man replied, shaking hands with Ace and the Doctor. “I'm Chris. You here for the Christmas Festival?”

“Yes,” The Doctor replied, “I also wonder if you could tell where I may find an Advent Calendar.”

The End

[can-u-imagine-that]

Title: Save Me;

Fandom: The Avengers;

Character: Steve;

Note: Y/N: Your Name, Y/A: Your Age; (gender neutral reader)

Warning: Cursing, violence, torture(act not described), PTSD;

Request: None;

Author’s Note: Reader works at the Avengers Facility as a engineer in Tony’s lab, thus everyone believes that they have a lot of information on the development of new technology for them. They are kidnapped by Hydra and tortured. Will Captain America be able to save them in time?  And what about after?

You groaned as your eyes opened slowly in the dim light of the room you found yourself into. It took you a moment to understand where the hell you were and how had you gotten there.

Feeling a shiver run down your entire body, you remembered how Hydra soldiers knocked you out after a fight in an alleyway. You knew because of the embed symbol in the sleeves of their black uniforms.

Fighthing wasn’t your thing. You were intelligent, not strong. Being strong was the part of the Avengers. You were there only to help them with their engineering and even you didn’t have that much information of the new technology. But of course Hydra didn’t know that, since you worked directly with Tony Stark they probably figured you knew of everything.

You were strapped into a metal stretcher by arms, legs, waist and neck. Trying to struggle was useless since you weren’t a strong super soldier or a enhanced being. You were a mere civilian.

Gulping you tried your best to move your hands to the pockets of your jeans. Everyone that worked so close to The Avengers like you did, had a communication device for emergencies like these. It had never really happened to anyone you knew, but didn’t hurt to be careful and always carry it arround.

And of course it wasn’t there.

Who were you trying to fool?

They are Hydra, not idiots.

The door snapped open and you saw a man dressed in black enter the room, pulling a chair towards where you were, then he sat and just stared at you. Your breath hitched a little because shit that was uncomfortable.

You noticed two guards dressed just like those in the alleyway near a metal door. Other than that the room was completely empty.

The man had tanned and marked skin adorned with a big beard and was munching into a toothpick. His eyes were green and a huge scar ran along his cheek stopping almost into the neck. You could see by his broad shoulders that he was almost Steve’s size and probably really strong. If he wasn’t with Hydra and you saw him on the street you surely would think that he was a war veteran.

Speaking of Steve you prayed for the soldier to burst by that door, wall or window to beat those guys asses. You knew that as soon as he found out that you were missing, he’d move sky and earth to find you, but were scared that it was too late already.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone inside the Facility that you and him had a thing for each other and even you two knew, just didn’t really felt like acting on it as soon as you found out. You liked the way things were and the way he seemed to be courting you like he would do in the 40′s. Barely a week before your kidnap he had accompanied you to your room, almost as if you had gone to a date and before you could close the door he bent slightly to give you a light kiss in your lips. Then a beautiful smile brightened his face before he whispered “goodnight”.

As the week progressed you noticed small changes on his behaviour when you two were alone. You also tried to make it clear that you liked the advances. The flirting, hand holding, the hugs, the gentle caresses in your face and the small kisses like that first in your door, after a long day.

Of course that now, lying with that man staring at you, you were afraid that nothing would ever happen again, because well, you kinda felt like you were going to die.

“Y/N, right?” suddenly the man’s voice boomed, making you flinch while nodding your head, noticing that he had a file in his hand with your picture in it “Engineer at the Avengers Facility, more specifically working in projects under the supervision of Anthony Stark, a.k.a Iron Man.”

You nod again, gulping.

“Been working with them for about four years now. No close relatives, single, Y/A, online studying for a postgraduate in Computational Engineering, lives on the compound during most of the year but has an appartment in a quiet New York’s neighborhood. Close friendship with most of the Avengers, specially previously mentioned Anthony Stark, Wanda Maximoff a.k.a Scarlet Witch and Steve Rogers... a.k.a Captain America.”

The way he slowed when mentioning Steve made your heart skip a beat. 

It wasn’t possible that they knew about how you and Steve felt for each other, right? Because if they did you were REALLY screwed. And how the hell he knew all of that? Shit, they probably had a spy inside the Avengers Facility or in S.H.I.E.L.D, because how would they have gattered that information about you?

“Well, well...” he cracked his knuckles, bringind his hand close to the top of your head, grabbing a fist of strands, pulling slightly “How much information will I be able to rip out of your pretty mouth, huh, honey? Maybe their defense mechanisms? Or new technology? Or some S.H.I.E.L.D classified information?”

You pursed your lips, signaling that you’d never say anything, even if you knew a lot, which you didn’t.

“Oh, gonna make yourself hard to get? No problem...” his voice was still low when he got up, walking towards a corner that you hadn’t noticed of the room “I can use one of these...”

When you saw the metal table, your heart sunk to your stomach and you felt like throwing up.

You could see many instruments that he could use as torture methods, going of on blades and saws until guns and technological things that you had no idea of what they were.

His hand drifted absent minded over everything on the table without really getting anything and walking back to you.

“Or not. I can just use my bare hands.” he pressed his hand to your arm and, with a really unthinkable strenght, he squeezed it painfully. You bit your lip, not allowing any sound out of yout mouth “You want to play this game then? Fine. Let’s see how long it takes until you are screaming and begging for mercy.”

-x-

You had no idea how long you’ve been trapped there. 

Between sessions of “talks” with that man and unconscious periods you’ve lost track of time. They’d fed you rudely and you already felt the malnutrition and dehydration symptoms in your weak and bruised body. Running an auto analysis of your bruises you were sure that both of your legs were broken together with a rib or two. Your left eye was swollen and there was a big gash right in the middle of your chest which had been bandaged poorly just so you wouldn’t bleed to death. Oh, and of course, that was probably infected.

Hallucinations started to become a trend once they started injecting something directly into your blood stream. It was some kind of drug to make you confused and spill out things without intending to. Of course that wasn’t realiable information because you were drugged, but they could go somewhere from there. The most common hallucination you got was the image of Steve coming to rescue you.

The first time it happened you cryied relieved when he straped you out of the scretcher, lifting your body and hugging you close to his chest as he took you out of that hell hole. And then you woke up to a new session of talk.

And it kept happening, each time with a different setting until you lost all your hope and when he showed you just closed your tearfull eyes, waiting to wake up again.

You could feel yourself slipping away. 

You were dying and your sanity was starting to disappear too. Now, you saw a lot of things lurking in the corners, screamed alone and even laughed at the sitution, yelling that you didn’t really know a fucking thing but even if you knew you’d never tell those fuckers.

In one of the lapses that you felt awake again you saw Steve.

The same old hallucination again. You thought, closing your eyes and waiting for him to disappear.

But he didn’t.

And this time, when he lifted you in his arms it wasn’t like that fairytale of your previous hallucinations. Where you felt safe in his warm and gentle embrace.

You screamed in pain. 

It felt like all your broken bones, cuts and bruises were being made all over again. If you had anything in your stomach you’d definitely throw up because of the dizzyness that hit you. 

You could hear Steve’s voice whispering something to you, but your cousciousness started to fade again.

“Y/N...” his voice seemed so far that you had to force yourself to pay attention “Stay with me, please...”

You were in so much pain that your body started to become numb and your head tilted, laying on his chest.

You could hear his heartbeat.

It was fast. 

Really fast.

But that sound quickly lulled you into slumber.

-x-

You drifted in and out of counsciouss all the time to the point were you didn’t know anymore what was a dream and what was reality. You just wanted to rest.

Y/N...

Yeah, resting would be good... you allowed your mind to go completely numb. Being unable to feel your body made things easier. It already felt like you were lost anyway. What else you had? Maybe afterlife would be better.

The heart stopped. Defibrillator.

The world is not really a nice place anyway. People are mean and evil, doing nasty stuff without feeling a single drop of remorse or regret.

Y/N...

Maybe you had lived your life being good enough to earn a good place in the afterlife. You always helped everyone. You enjoyed helping, actually. Enjoyed being with people and talking and...

1, 2, 3. Clear.

And... Steve.

Wanda, Tony... 

Avengers. 

Helping. Talking. Walking. Laughing. Studying. Dancing. Hearing. Eating. Sleeping. Singing. Running. Swimming. Playing.

Living.

Please, Y/N... come back to me...

You enjoyed living. 

You missed doing those things. 

You couldn’t go. 

Not yet.

“Y/N...” Steve’s voice sounded weird at first. It was the same sensation of when your ears are clogged. A loud and acute sound ringed in your ear until finally Steve’s voice continued “It’s been too long already, don’t you think?”

Your body still felt numb, save for a few sensations, and you couldn’t open your eyes yet.

He sighed, seemingly to be sitting near the edge of your bed. You felt a warm sensation in your right hand, probably because he was holding your hand.

“Steve.” Wanda’s voice sounded by the other side of the room. She seemed broken and tired, almost as if she had tried to have this conversation with the Super Soldier before “You have to rest too. I’ll stay here if anything happens...”

“Sorry, kid...” he answered and you could hear Wanda sighing “I promise that I’ll do that later...”

“You’ve been saying that for the last three days... at least go to the caffeteria and eat something. Please?” she begged, probably walking, by the sound of the boots cliking, to stand by Steve’s side, who was possibly in a chair and given the weight you felt on the bed he was supporting his upper body on the edge of the matress. His hand never leaving yours.

“Just... just a little bit more, Wanda...”

You felt a hand rest in your forehead, surely Wanda’s by the size.

Suddenly you heard as she choked a sob.

Thank goodness... you are here... her beautiful voice sounded in your head and if you had any movement in your body you’d surely jump.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... I’m just... relieved...” she said, her voice heading for the door “You can stay for now. I’ll try to fetch you again later...”

After she left you slowly started to recover more and more sensibility in your body. Now Steve’s thumb was brushing slow circles in the back of your hand, sometimes squeezing lightly.

And then finally you managed to move.

First your toes curled under the covers. Then your eyes futtered open, blinking the tears that formed when the bright light hit. And finally you squeezed his hand back, turning your head to the side to be able to see him.

Steve was indeed sitting in a chair, his head hung low but shot up as soon as you moved, his blue eyes wide.

“Y/N...” he said, smiling as his hand slowly reached for your face, meaning to probably brush the tears away.

But your shriek stopped him.

When his hands lowered near your face a flash of one of the many slaps you received passed, making you stiff your body and close your eyes.

You didn’t mean to. Of course you knew that Steve would never hurt you. But somehow it was like the lights flickered and you were there again, trapped, beat and hurt.

“Hey, it’s okay...” his hand retreated, but he didn’t seem offended. When you looked in his eyes again you saw nothing but understanding “Sorry. You went through a lot. I just... couldn’t hold myself... you’re safe. I promise...”

Tears started to prickle your eyes and before you knew sobs were breaking through your throat.

You were safe.

He saved you.

Steve saved you.

Yet you still felt scared.

“Calm down, love...” he whispered, slowly holding your hand again. When you managed to see him through your blurry vision, his eyes were kind and if your mind wasn’t tormented by flashes all the time the nickname would have made your heart flutter “You are still recovering. But even after your body gets better, you will still feel hurt...”

Flashes kept showing themselves, making you sit on the bed irritated. 

Steve quickly supported your upper body with his, because dizziness hit you. Your body tumbled to the side but he opened his arms and sat on the edge of the bed, facing you. Your head landed on his shoulder and you noticed that he made no effort to actually grab you, his hands hovering around your arms as yours squeezed his shirt.

You closed your eyes, starting to feel an horrible sensation building in your stomach. Your heart started to race and so did your breath, but you couldn’t force your voice out anymore. It felt like words were stuck in your throat. Memories flooded your mind and you could swear that sounds and smells were the same of when you were there.

He cautiously allowed his arms to close around you in an embrace. His warmth spread through your body.

“I’m here...” you remembered your hallucinations saying the same.

What if all of that was another one? What if suddenly you were going to wake up again on that strecher?

“S-Steve...” you mustered enough strength to say.

“Yeah?”

“Please... h-help me...”

His heart clenched and he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I’m here with you. I’ll take care of you, Y/N... you’ll get better... breath with me...” he kept whispering soothing words in your ear until finally you managed to calm your breath.

“I’m... s-sorry...” you whispered, still glued to his torso, his heartbeat calming you even more than his voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, love...” he said, pulling back to look at you “Unfortunately I’m used to this. It is something pretty normal when people survive situations like the one you did. I had already asked Tony to look for a psychologist to come and talk to you as soon as you woke up... I just... I wished I had saved you sooner...”

“Hey... it’s not like you delayed because you wanted to...” you answered, knowing how much Steve probably was blaming himself “Besides... you did save me in the end...”

He stared at you for a moment before slowly reaching to your face again. This time you didn’t scooted away, letting his fingers caress your cheek.

“I’ll help you go through this... I promise...”

You gave him a weak smile, letting yourself be engulfed by his warmth again.

Little did you know that Steve made a promise with himself too. Being Captain America was really hard and knowing that he wasn’t able to protect one of the most important people to him hit him hard. He vowed that he would never again let anything happen to you, not even allow you to feel the slightest unsafe.

He didn’t had to voice that though.

Because you already felt safe again in his arms.

[mirohed]

han jisung | better off dead (i’ll be juliet)

{ HAN JISUNG + GENDER NEUTRAL!READER }

zombie apocalypse au, college au, best friends to lovers

fluff, angst

10.5k

playlist / title insp (yes it’s a thg fansong from 8 years ago)

content warning: this work contains the following: copious amounts of swearing, the mention and underage consumption of alcohol, the mention and use of weapons (guns, knives, blunt weaponry), descriptions of violent acts, and character death. read at your own risk.

a/n: happy 100 (technically 107) days to me and jisung 💓💓 special thanks to @tyongu for screening this fic and giving me the motivation i needed to pick this fic back up from its 5 month long hiatus && to @offonoffs for being a fellow member of jisung nation & expressing interest in this fic ,, it means a lot. 

reviews are greatly appreciated !

You used to think that zombies weren't a realistic sort of monster—not as real as climate change or capitalism, anyway. They were better suited to being enjoyed from the comfort of your couch as you curled up with a bag of chips on a Friday night.

This, of course, all changes the night you get that fateful emergency alert.

You're at Chan's house when it happens. He's invited you and the rest of campus to his frat house for one of his famed end-of-semester ragers. He spots you not long after you enter, catching you in a one-armed embrace, full cup of beer in hand.

"Hey, glad you could make it! The night's still young, but Felix said he'd set his Switch up for some Smash up later. You should join them if you get the chance." A girl from your communications class (Ryujin?) calls out to him, waving him to join her and a few unfamiliar faces for a game of beer pong. "Sorry, duty calls. If you ever get tired of the beer, you know where to find the good stuff," he says, shooting you some quasi-finger guns and leaving you to fend for yourself.

You slip past a few couples pushing themselves up against the walls on your way to the kegs, and fill a cup of your own. Minho's there, leaned against the refrigerator and taking small sips of his drink. "Surprised you haven't switched to Woojin's vodka yet," you joke.

"Usually, I have no qualms about...sampling, but taking from him's a death wish." Taking another sip, he grimaces. "If that means putting up with the cheap shit all night, I'll take it." You mumbled an "amen," knocking your matching red cups together in a toast. You both regretted the swig you took.

"Yeah, I can't do this." You dump the shitty alcohol in the drain. "You know where Jisung is?"

"No clue."

"Damn. Well, if you manage to find something to sample, give me a call. I'm gonna go find him."

You scour the entire first level of the house, weaving through clouds of marijuana and vaguely cotton-candy scented vape juice. Unfortunately, your best friend is nowhere to be found. You don’t bother trying his phone; if he was drunk (which he probably was), all you’d get in response would be unintelligible cheers as he “gets his party on.” You ask around for a bit, but each new set of directions sounds more ridiculous than the last. (You're still not sure if Yukhei was drunk and fucking with you or being completely serious when he said Jisung wasn't at the party at all. You wouldn’t be surprised either way.)

You call it quits after about a half hour, trudging upstairs and feeling both hungry and a little sorry for yourself. Sure, you had other friends, but the one person you wanted to get wasted with was nowhere to be found.

As you head upstairs, you notice the bathroom door is wide open. A glance to your left is all it takes to see Hyunjin kneeling on the bathroom tile, puking his guts out as Jisung rubs his back in a feeble attempt to provide comfort. You make eye contact with Jisung, and he nods his head in the direction of Chan's room at the end of the hall. "'Lix set the Switch up, but Hyunjin's busy being a lightweight." He shoots Hyunjin a withering look, but Hyunjin's too preoccupied to notice. "Take over for me? He picked Isabelle, and we both know how bad I get my ass kicked when he does," he grumbles, helping Hyunjin stand on both legs. "We'll join you guys in a few."

You're planning your victory against Felix (Jisung probably picked Lucario for the "cool factor," which didn’t mean much when all he did in rounds was button mash and hope for the best) when your phone goes off, loud and insistent. Jisung's goes off less than a second later, with Hyunjin's buzzing on the bathroom counter. Based on the way Felix pokes his head out of the door, phone in hand, you can only assume he got it too.

The official alert glares up at you, a few simple sentences in all capital letters.

EMERGENCY ALERT

ZOMBIE OUTBREAK. THE DISEASE IS CONTAGIOUS. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

You exchange a look with Jisung and Felix, all seeming to share one thought: This is bad. You had heard news of this disease before; highly contagious, with nonspecific symptoms that were often misdiagnosed until it was too late and necrosis set in. Scientists had found out that it was a mutation of a disease that was supposed to have been eradicated a century ago. 

Even people that were updated with their vaccinations could catch it; it was transferable via bodily fluids. If someone infected so much as got a drop of saliva or sweat on you, you were at risk.  ("Just goes to show you what happens when people don't vaccinate their fuckin' kids," Minho had said, changing the channel to a rerun of Friends.)

Chan shuts the party down, kicking everyone sober enough to walk out and housing the wasted. He urges them all to find shelter and head for safety as he waves them out. "Listen, if you ever need anything, I'm just a call away," he tells you as you return to your dorm.

Seungmin, the frat's designated driver for the night (that’s a lie—it was supposed to be Changbin, but he conveniently “forgot” and left the job to Seungmin), gives you a ride back at Jisung's request. ("I'm not letting you walk back and get infected," he had insisted, arms crossed.)

The first thing you do after getting home is call him. You spend most of the video call packing your bags, just in case, tossing cans and clothes into the biggest bags you can find.

"I'm starting to think those apocalypse planners had the right idea," you say, trying to cram another bottle of water into your bag. "I could use an apocalypse bunker right about now."

Jisung dries his freshly washed hair, draping the towel around his neck. "Maybe we should beg them for shelter."

"Maybe."

“Remember when we had that plan to build our own bunker back in high school? I wish we never threw those plans away.”

“Wasn’t it you that was like ‘we’re never gonna use these, what’s the point?’” you tease, voice dropping an octave to mock Jisung. “I, for one, always thought they were a good idea.”

“But you let me throw them away!” You put down the shirt you’re folding and plug your ears, shouting that you can’t hear him. He calls you a child, but the conversation makes you feel better about what might happen after tonight.

You’ll be fine, you tell yourself as you lie awake that night. This is just in case things go to shit.

Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t even take a full week before things go to shit.

"Get in!" Jisung shouts, driving down the road at a reasonable enough speed for you to keep up with. You don't bother asking why he has a horde of zombies chasing (hobbling, really) after him. Instead, you sprint behind him, tossing your bags into the truck bed before leaping on yourself.

"Where'd you come from?" you ask, panting as he hits the gas and barrels down the road. There are a few bags, full to bursting, in the trunk with you. "The city?"

"Yeah. We're going back." Your head cranes to look at him from the glass window at the back of his hand-me-down pickup truck in surprise. "Felix is out there somewhere, and we're not leaving him behind. Chan took the others, and we're meeting up with them after we pick 'Lix up. I called Chan earlier, so the cell towers should still be up by the time we get there."

"Can't we meet him halfway? No offense, but if we go back, we're gonna fucking die."

There's no compromise. The ride's silent, save the wind whistling in your ears as Jisung drives as fast as he can (it takes him awhile to realize he can go way over the speed limit; what are the cops gonna do, stop him?) Going back might not be a bad idea anyway; he needs more fuel to keep his truck up and running, and you don’t know about him, but you’re not exactly prepared to hunker down for the long term.

It's absolute chaos in the city. Buildings burn in the distance, smoke billowing out into otherwise clear blue skies. Corpses of the undead (who are now, with any luck, actually dead) litter the streets. People have already gone feral, welcomed the lawlessness of the new world with open arms. You turn down familiar streets and see families in a hurry to leave their homes and get out of the city as fast as possible.

"You stay here," Jisung says, parking across the street from the nearest megamart. You can barely make out the action going on outside the store, but you don't think there'll be much left for Jisung to take by the time he gets there. "Call Felix. I'm gonna see what I can take."

You sit on the roof of the truck, Jisung's worn old baseball bat (now outfitted with barbed wire) in hand. Trying not to cut yourself on the sharp edges, you call Felix.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god. I was scared the cell towers were already down. Where are you?"

"I made it to the outskirts of the city. There's a house up here. Jisung'll know where it is, we come up here all the time.”

“Alright. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, just a little shaken up, of course,” he laughs. “Didn’t think this was how I’d be spending my time after finals.” You murmur an agreement, and he continues talking. “Don't waste your battery, alright? See you guys soon." He hangs up, and your fingers itch with the urge to text someone, make another call, but Felix was right. It's not like Instagram's up right now; everyone's got bigger things to worry about.

After what feels like an eternity, Jisung comes running with a full backpack and...a suitcase?

"Where's Felix?" he pants, handing you the heavy suitcase and tossing the backpack in the back of the truck.

"He's in a house on the outskirts of the city? He told me you'd know where it was."

"Should've known. We gotta haul ass, though—I might've pissed off, like, a ton of people." Your eyes widen; there is, in fact, a group of angry people headed your way as you take a seat in the truck bed. Jisung floors it before any of them come close, letting them eat his dust.

“Where is this house anyway?” You’re yelling over the wind, but Jisung catches it nonetheless.

“The frat’s been going there for years, I heard. It’s some tradition to get shitfaced there for initiation, so we all had to go and drink whatever Minho gave us. I must’ve blacked out, because I barely remember it. We go up there sometimes, when we need to get away.”

You leave the city and go off-road, running over new grass. There's a house you've never seen before at the top of a small hill, and it's there that you see Felix. He's managed to attract one of the damn things, but he's definitely holding his own against it, landing a few impressive roundhouse kicks on it. He's whacking at it with a metal rod when you drive up the hill, but the zombie catches on and turns it into a game of tug-of-war.

Wrenching the rod away, he returns to kicking at it, staggering the zombie with one good hit to the ribs.

But the zombie seems to have caught on to that too, and it's as you pull up to the house that it grabs onto his leg and sinks his teeth into him. Felix cries out, his skin punctured and blood dripping onto the grass underfoot. He tries to yank his leg back, but can’t seem to summon the strength, his other leg hopping about to maintain balance.

Now that he's injured, the zombie drags Felix closer, clawing at his head before—

You can't watch, and neither can Jisung. There’s a sickening crunch, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The next thing you see is Jisung running the fucker over. A distant part of you wonders if that's bad for the car, but it doesn't feel like you're there in the moment at all.

It's like you're watching the whole thing from a third-person view. You see yourself leap from the truck bed as soon as Jisung shifts the truck into park. You can almost see the seed of unease, of we're-so-screwed begin to sprout in the pit of your stomach. 

You can’t tear your eyes from Felix’s body. He’s lying face down (thankfully), but he’s stained the grass red, his leg twisted at an odd angle. You can make out the scratches along the side of his cheek from here, skin broken and bleeding. 

It’s red. It’s all red. Everywhere you look, it’s—

And then you're back in your own body, throwing the car door open to yell at him. "You fuckin' idiot!" you hiss. "Why'd you do that?" Definitely not the right thing to say, but you can't take anything back now.

"What do you think? I killed it before it could kill us." He ventures into the house, purposefully shoving past you with a harsh bump of his shoulder. You follow despite his clipped tone and tense shoulders. Together, you loot the house. Jisung seems to know where everything is, handing you everything from bags of chips stored away to bottles of whiskey. (You're about to ask about the alcohol when he mutters "Molotov." You figure it's not the only use they've got.)

You come upon Felix's pack. It's the backpack he used during the school year, most of the space taken up by his clothes. Jisung shoulders the bag wordlessly before turning to leave. All you can do is follow behind.

You watch the sun set as the busted speakers play some playlist he must have put together. (You admit it'd be a good road trip playlist if not for the fact that you were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.) His knuckles are white against the wheel, and part of you wants to talk about what happened, but you take one look at his clenched jaw and hold your tongue.

Night falls. The two of you camp out in some crop-bearing fields. He starts a fire and speaks for the first time in hours.

"Do you want to take the first shift or should I?" He's looking right at you, but there's none of the usual light in his eyes. 

You think that when Felix died, part of Jisung died with him. 

You end up taking the first shift, judging time based on the occasional glance at your phone. You keep an eye and an ear out, watching the fire frame Jisung's sleeping face in subtle orange.

He doesn't want to talk about it, you tell yourself. And who would? You're not exactly eager to bring the topic up yourself. You lean back on your hands as you try to think of anything except what happened to Felix.

Before long, you nudge him awake. He's a little disgruntled, but you bug him until he sits up. "Yeah, yeah. I'm up. Get some rest." You curl up in the sleeping bag (Felix's sleeping bag, but you're still trying not to think about it) and shut your eyes.

The fire crackles lowly. You hear Jisung's bones crack as he stretches. You don't sleep.

When you crack your eyes open after god knows how long, the sky is still dark. "Can't sleep?"

"What do you think?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, just a bit. You swear you hear a faint chuckle. "You know we have to keep going, right? Without..."

"You can just say it, you know. Without Felix. Without our best friend."

"Yeah. Without our best friend." You cast the sleeping bag aside, staring at the flames. He pats the grass next to him, and you crawl over to his side. When he wraps an arm over your shoulder, traces meaningless patterns and letters into your arm, you don't complain. Maybe you even lean into his touch, knowing that it might be you and Jisung versus the world for awhile.

You think you're fine with that.

When the sun rises, you and Jisung make plans to meet up with Chan and the others; there's some safety to be found in numbers, after all. Neither of you mention having to tell them what happened to Felix.

Jisung calls Chan. Then Minho. Then Woojin. Then Seungmin. Then Changbin. Then Jeongin, who's still in his last year of high school, but is an unofficial member of the fraternity regardless. Then, as a last resort, he calls Hyunjin. Nobody picks up. Changbin and Minho's phones don't even ring, instead kicking him straight to voicemail. "Maybe their phones died," you offer.

"Disappointed, but not surprised." He pockets his phone with a huff. "The cell towers are probably down. How's the radio?" You've been playing with the radio while Jisung tried calling his friends, trying to find a signal.

"I'm about to rip out the stupid dial and crush the damn thing under my foot, but other than that I'm good," you snipe, throwing him a look and a fake smile. You turn the dial all the way in one direction, more than a little annoyed at all the static you seem to be catching. To your surprise, you hear broken, unintelligible chatter. You move the radio between you two, chasing after the signal.

"-vivors...proceed to... -ary base...infec... -on entry...supplies will be rationed...gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached." The message cuts out less and less as you fiddle with the radio, and once you wait for the announcement to repeat, the full message plays.

"Attention, all survivors. If possible, we ask that you proceed to the nearest military base or encampment. The military will be on patrol to execute zombies and the infected as well as rescue clean civilians and bring them to the nearest base. All civilians will be checked for infection upon entry and routinely throughout their stay. Supplies will be rationed for as long as possible. Gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached."

You and Jisung exchange a look as the message plays once more. When he breaks into a wide grin, you mirror it with a smile of your own. "We're saved!" he cheers, wrapping you in a big hug and knocking the radio on its side. You relax in his embrace, sighing into it. You don't make any moves to break the hug, and neither does he, even after it stretches on longer than a hug between friends should.

"One problem…” you start, voice muffled as you speak into his shirt, “where's the nearest military base?"

There’s a small hospital up ahead, the white building stark against all the browns and greens you two have been seeing the past few days. “Should we check it out?” Jisung asks, eyes flitting to you. “You never know when we’d need medicine or bandages.” 

“No. Before you ask why, I know we’re gonna run into zombies. I can feel it in my bones.” Jisung flattens his lips into a straight line, clearly unhappy with your verdict.

“Your bones don’t know shit.”

“Picture this: first semester of our freshman year of college, right before midterms. You’re barely passing your world history class because you don’t go to lecture. I help you cram for two days straight and tell you I can feel you getting an A in my bones,” you say, clenching your fist to emphasize your point. “When you get your midterm results back, you got an A, not only on the test…”

“...but in the class,” Jisung finishes with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, fair point. But what if you got hurt and I couldn’t save you because I didn’t have the medicine for it?” He’s pulling into the parking lot, but doesn’t shift the truck into park. You can still talk him out of it.

“Then you just let me die? It’s not that deep. Like yeah, it’d suck, but at that point there’d be nothing you could do.” 

His voice is so earnest that it forces your eyes to snap to him. “We both know I can’t do that.” There’s something behind his words, an undercurrent carrying a feeling you can’t name. Carding dirty nails through his hair, he gnaws on his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna risk it. Besides, it’s out in the middle of nowhere. I doubt there’ll be too many zombies. You sure you don’t wanna come with?”

He stares at you, and you groan, giving in. “God, park the truck somewhere more discreet. We both know I’m gonna have to bail your ass out anyway,” you sigh, opening the glove compartment and withdrawing the knife Jisung had nabbed from the frat house’s kitchen. “Might as well come with and save myself the trouble of going in there to find you.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grins, and you feel like you’ve been played.

The inside of the hospital’s dark and completely devoid of that sterile scent you don’t want to admit you liked. Instead, there’s a musty smell that pervades the building, and your nose wrinkles as you take deep breaths in an attempt to get yourself acclimated to it. “Stay close to me,” you tell him. “I don’t want you wandering off.”

“You think I’m gonna get lost? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

He doesn’t respond, instead muttering something under his breath. “Whatever. Let’s see if we can find something.”

You creep along the corridors, breathing as light as possible. The whole hospital seems to be moth-eaten and abandoned, but you’re not sure if you and Jisung are alone or not. The rooms you enter are a mixed bag; you manage to get to the small cafeteria and bag some soon-to-be stale chips as well as several bottles of water, but you don’t get much in the way of medicine.

“Where do they keep all the medicine anyway?” you ask, turning away from the spoiled ice cream in the mini freezer, nose wrinkled. The light bulb goes off in Jisung’s head, and he smacks his face with his hand.

“The pharmacy. They keep the medicine at the pharmacy.” You take a water bottle and make as if you’re going to whack him with it when you hear a noise. Both you and Jisung tense at the clattering of equipment from outside the cafeteria. You two stick your heads out the door, Jisung scanning the left side and you scanning the right. The coast looks clear, so Jisung leads the way out the way you came.

You’re almost home free when you spot a zombie ambling about at the end of the hall, back turned to you. Jisung holds up his palm, signalling for you to stop moving. “Okay, what now?” you ask.

“It’s just one zombie,” he starts. “Give me the knife, I got this.” He hands you the backpack with everything you’ve looted, and you hesitate before giving him the only weapon you two have. He sneaks up on the zombie, getting closer and closer…

And then it rears its ugly head, letting out an ugly gurgling noise that scares the shit out of you. One arm’s in a sling and the other hangs limp; you don’t think broken arm would bother the undead too much. It charges, quicker than either of you were expecting (did zombies that were athletic as humans keep that athleticism?) and almost smothers Jisung, who loses his balance and falls hard on his hands. He manages to roll to the side in time for it to knock its head against the smooth tile floor.

“Change of plans,” he says, zombies dressed in scrubs and hospital gowns alike beginning to come out from the corner of the hall, “we’re leaving!” You help him up, slamming your heel on the neck of the zombie that almost attacked Jisung. There’s a satisfying crunch, and then you two are off, turning corner after corner trying to escape. 

You don’t stop running until your feet hit cement instead of tile. You don’t stop moving until you’re both in the truck, trying to catch your breath. “You were right,” his voice is shaky, and you take his hand in yours, squeeze it in an attempt to calm him down. “We shouldn’t have gone.”

Even after his breathing returns to normal, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

You're not sure when things start to change between you and Jisung. Maybe it's when you catch yourself staring at him as he drives, right hand on the wheel and the left resting on the lowered window. (He insisted on keeping the windows down as much as possible; the air conditioning in his truck was busted, “just like the rest of the damn thing.”)

Maybe it's when you stop bothering with arguments over who takes the couch and who takes the bed. You've slept in the same bed before, sure, but that was when you were children. You remember the night it started, not long after the trip to the hospital:

You wake up with fingers already tangled in the sheets, a cold sheen of sweat on your forehead. Every blink of your eyes treats you to the sight that haunted your nightmares: Felix, one of your best friends, with eyes gouged out and flesh hanging from his cheek as he opens his mouth so wide his jaw unhinges. His tongue sits lamely in his bloody mouth as he lets loose an unending wail—

You can’t stay here. You force yourself out of bed and find Jisung still awake, staring down at his hands in the darkness. He seems to hear you coming, because he says, “You too?” before you’re even in the living room proper.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He feels around for the lantern that was left behind when the former residents evacuated and flicks it on, the warm yellow light a welcome sight. You both take a seat on the couch Jisung had been sleeping on as you try to find the words to describe your nightmare.

“It was Felix. We were at school and I...I saw him from behind, and it’s like we were all alright again. I was calling out to him from across campus, but he couldn’t hear me. Then I turned him around and then…” You shudder, and Jisung’s quick to wrap the blanket he took for himself around you. “He looked like he did after that day we found him. His mouth wouldn’t stop opening. I-” You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until he takes them in his own.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”

“I miss him, Jisung. I miss when the three of us would fuck around and spend all our money on food and video games and have to cram just to pass our classes. I miss having to kick his ass in Smash because you never could. I miss our group calls where we make fun of him for playing Fortnite because it’s not relevant anymore.” 

“I know,” he shushes, pulling you into his arms. “I miss him too. He was in my dream, at the very beginning.” He tucks your head under his chin. “It was the night of the party and he told me not to do something stupid because I could lose you. Next thing I knew, we were at the hospital and it was you facing those zombies and not me. They,” he swallows heavily, “they got you. All I did was stand there. And then I was all alone.” You stay silent, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss college.”

“You and me both.” Before long, you switch the lantern off, breathing becoming steady. Your eyes get heavier and heavier until you let yourself fall into a deep sleep.

Sleeping by his side wills away most of the nightmares. You get the best rest you've gotten since the night it all started, so good that after that night, you rarely sleep apart.

(You ignore the twinge of...something in your heart when you wake up first. There's something about his sleeping face that makes him look at peace, something about the way his arms snake around you as soon as you lie down next to him, that makes you feel something you think you shouldn't be feeling.)

"Do you think we'll make it?" he asks one night. You're both sitting cross-legged in the back of his truck, taking inventory. He picked up a map from one of the houses you've been squatting in on the way; you're halfway to the base. "Survive, I mean. Not just long enough to get to the fort, but...you know. In general." You glance up from the knife in your hands, humming.

"I hope so. Besides," you start, dragging the knife along the sharpening stone, "we've made it through everything so far, haven't we?"

"Yeah," he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit, "we have." The stars wink down at you as you work under the light of the moon and a small lantern. With any luck, things will get better once you've reached the safety of the base.

You open and close the drawers of the house you and Jisung have stopped at to gather supplies, trying to find something to take with you. The house hasn't been ransacked yet (or at least, you don't think so; the locks were in place and everything looked tidy before you broke in), but the owners sure did a good job of clearing the place out. No canned goods, no bottles of water, nothing except for some office supplies and a worrying amount of rubber duckies in the bathroom.

The lights are all off, and you're pretty sure that the house's supply of running water ran out a long time ago. The midsummer heat makes your clothes stick to your skin just as uncomfortably as the duct tape you and Jisung have taken to wearing along your arms and legs. After what happened at the hospital, Jisung didn’t want to take any risks, no matter how much you both sweat under the adhesive.

You're poring over the drawers in the bathroom when your eyes get drawn to a small box in the corner of your vision. It's a little beat up, but the saccharine pink and white box grins up at you all the same. You're not quite sure what use Hello Kitty bandaids would serve—they're not even that big, really, the most they could do is patch up a paper cut—but you do know they'd make Jisung smile.

And if you're being honest, you've come to miss that smile. It's been hard to come by recently.

Nobody breathes a word about the change in dynamic. There's no angsty "what are we" talk that threatens both your friendship and your budding relationship. It's just you and Jisung, the same as it's always been. 

You get used to resting your head on his lap, to having his hand interlaced with yours as he drives. You throw away the excuse of sleeping together “to get rid of the nightmares” (though that’s still a very compelling reason). The word boyfriend is always on the tip of your tongue, but at this point, labels like that don’t mean much.

You learn to enjoy the little things, the way the blues and blacks of night fade into pinks and purples with streaks of pale orange to greet the world each morning. You learn to enjoy the little things, like the weight of Jisung’s head on your shoulder as you run your thumb down the side of his hand. It’s humbling, you think, how the sun rises and sets, how the world keeps spinning despite it all. No matter how much has changed, some things stay the same.

”You ever realize how insignificant we are?” you ask one morning, eyes focused on the sky above. “Life goes on, with or without us.”

”Yeah,” he shifts to look up at you from his place in the crook of your neck, “but you know what?” You hum as the birds begin chirping, signifying the start of the day, eyes closed as you bask in the morning glow. “I don’t think I could ever feel too insignificant when I’m with you.”

You scoot away, causing Jisung to start whining. “We’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and you’re flirting with me?” you scoff, incredulous.

“And you’re surprised?” He’s got this cheeky smile on his stupid face that you swear makes the world, your world, a better place. You lean in, pressing your lips to his for just a second. With your eyes closed, it feels like you’re a normal couple watching the sun rise on a normal world. It feels like nothing is wrong, and you’re right where you’re meant to be.

You’re digging through your backpack to find the beat up paperback you were planning to finish reading and use as fuel for the occasional fires you and Jisung would light when camping out when a set of Polaroids fall out of your bag. You’d crammed them in there long before the thought of a zombie apocalypse ever crossed your mind. There’s one that catches your eye from the night you celebrated your joint graduation with Jisung. (Seungmin and Hyunjin went to different high schools, and Felix was still in Australia at this point; you’d meet all of them on the day of orientation.)

It was the largest party you’ve ever been to, with your families and your friends taking up all the parking in the neighborhood. Avoiding awkward conversation with aunties and uncles was your specialty, and you spent much of the night dodging questions like “So what are you planning to major in?” and “Are you dating that Jisung kid?” 

There were drinks in the cooler that you were expressly told not to touch (not like that stopped you both from sneaking out two beers and chugging them in your room, away from prying eyes), music playing from the Bluetooth speaker you’d never used, and laughter everywhere you looked. 

“Can’t believe we’re adults now,” you said, one arm dangling off the side of your bed. “Feels like I only met you yesterday.” You set the bottle down on your carpet, eyes focused on your ceiling fan as it did its rotations.

“I’m glad we’re going to the same college,” he confessed, setting his bottle on your nightstand before you barked at him to put it on the carpet lest the condensation damage the wood. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jisung’s parents had brought out a cake, the icing congratulating you two on graduating from high school. All eyes were on you as you held the knife just above the cake, and you felt weightless as the blade divvied up the dessert.

“Wait, I wanna do it too,” Jisung whispered, bumping shoulders with you.

“What? No, this is my house.”

“Well, my parents were the ones who bought the cake!”

You try to think of a retort, but when none comes, you hand him the knife. “Here. Don’t mess it up.”

“I never mess up,” he said as you took the biggest chunk of cake for yourself. You watched him cut the cake into what were initially equal portions, but grew less and less balanced as the cake went on.

“See,” you told him once the cake was all gone, “what’d I tell you?” You take a dollop of the cake’s whipped cream and planted it on his nose.  “You never listen, Han Jisung.” 

It’s then that a flash went off, stunning you both. Yeji grinned as she handed you the developing Polaroid. “Save it for the wedding,” she joked. (It makes you sad to know that although you stayed relatively close in high school, you lost touch in college. You smile when you see each other on campus, but it’s not the same.)

“What are you looking at?” Jisung asks, pulling you back to the present. You stare down at the image, the almost child-like smiles on your faces. It feels like a lifetime ago, when things were easier and the unknown was something you thought you were ready for.

“Remember our grad party?” He takes one look at the picture and you swear you see the lines of stress on his forehead fade away as he laughs at the face he’s making in the photograph.

“God, I miss those days.”

"There it is." The base stands tall, barbed wire promising shelter from the uncertainty of whether you'd spend the day forced to fight for your life or not. You drum your fingers on your thighs as you approach the entrance, chest full to bursting with anticipation. You're half listening to Jisung's stupid hour-long playlist, half relieved that you managed to find a base so close.

He stops at the gate, waiting for a guard to emerge and check you two for signs of infection. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it tight. This is it, the gesture says, we're gonna be okay.

You wait.

You wait some more.

Your hands get sweaty.

"Is anyone there? You'd think for a military base, they'd have someone come out by now." Jisung turns the volume of the car speakers all the way down. He's met with the noises of his truck's engine...and an incessant scratching at the gate.

Exchanging a look, you hop out of the car and try to peek through the slits of the covered chain-link fence. Your first mistake is getting too close; they all seem to catch your scent and greet you with a chorus of grunts and groans as the horde focuses their attention on you.

Your second mistake is looking too closely at who's behind the fence. You make eye contact with the husk of a man, a glazed look in his eyes and skin broken along one side of his face from where he’s been clawing at it. He's dressed in all black, and when you take a second glance (you really shouldn't have), you realize he looks like someone you know. You're almost certain that if he smiled, you'd see dimples. You're almost certain that if you could see his hair—torn out in clumps, his scalp bloody—it would be curly since he wouldn't have access to a straightener in the middle of nowhere.

"Chan?" you whisper. There's no response, but a taller figure pushes into him, forcing his way to the front. When his mouth opens, all you can see are swollen, bloody gums and blackening teeth from weeks of neglect. Despite that, you know exactly who this is. You've tag-teamed toilet duty with Jisung at enough parties to know what Hyunjin's neck and back look like as he lurches forward, trying to ram the gate. "Oh shit." Felix and Jisung did say that Chan took the rest of the boys somewhere, didn't they?

That conversation feels like a lifetime ago, when the term "zombie apocalypse" was just the name of an overdone genre. It was better suited to being viewed from the comfort of your couch on a Friday night and Han Jisung by your side to complain about the shitty effects and act like he wouldn't need to sleep over because he'd get too scared to drive home.

You creep back to the truck, taking slow steps backward to avoid alerting the horde more than you already have. Releasing a heavy breath when you slip into the passenger seat, you try not to think about what you saw. Jisung looks at you expectantly, and you can't bring yourself to break his heart even more. He's already lost his best friend; you don't have the heart to tell him that the rest of his friends, his found family, are most likely locked behind that gate as well.

"You okay? What'd you find?"

"Just some zombies, nothing important. Let's go."

The first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

Sure, the deed is done and the zombie's dead (like really, fully dead), but it's what comes after that sucks.

You’re on a supply run, a hunting rifle you jacked from an abandoned house in your hands. You guess the house must not have been as abandoned as you thought, since there are two zombies in front of you and Jisung. You've come to notice that zombies get slobbery. The sight of decomposing flesh slick with saliva isn't very appealing, and that's not including the stench of it all. 

No matter which way you slice it, eau de zombie just isn't for you.

You don't have much experience when it comes to firing a gun. (Or any experience, really.) But you figure it's an aim-and-shoot sort of situation, right? You've seen Felix play video games before, and he's always made it seem simple. So you line the barrel of the gun up with their heads and pull the trigger. One. Two. Three.

The shots echo, and for a moment, you feel on top of the world as the first zombie falls backwards, blood oozing from the bullet's exit hole.

But in that moment, you also realize that recoil is a bitch when you're not prepared, and the second shot misses the other one entirely, the gun skewed too far to the left. You stumble back into the kitchen island, but Jisung's quick enough on his feet to decapitate the remaining zombie without much trouble.

"Hey, you know what I remembered?" he asks, wiping zombie blood from his brow.

"What?"

"Guns make noise."

"Yeah, no—shit." With those gunshots, you gave away your location to any unfriendly forces, human or not.

"You don't think zombies have working ears, do you?" You hit the kitchen with renewed vigor, gathering some essentials—a few knives, some canned goods left behind—and set the rifle down.

"I don't wanna find out. And even if they don't, other humans sure as hell do." He turns the house upside down looking for more bullets. If there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be looking out for you, because the former owners of the house left their safe unlocked. You decide to relieve them of their two pistols and every bit of ammunition you can get your hands on.

Of course, if there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be fucking with you, because minutes after getting back on the road, you hear the roaring of motorcycle engines. They surround Jisung's truck, and their leader stares you both down before yanking his black mask down and rapping two knuckles on the window Jisung forgot to roll down.

"You two should've known better than to wander 'round here," he tuts, running a finger through his hair. "So young, too. Almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do." To one of his cronies, he barks, "Mingi! Take what's in the trunk." You don't see this Mingi person, but you feel the truck get weighed down as he leaps on and loots everything worth taking. "Don't take it personally. At the end of the day, it's all about survival. I've got eight mouths to feed, and you've only got two. Only makes sense that we should, ah...relieve you of some of that weight you’re carrying."

Jisung's fuming, fists clenched in his lap, but you know he sees the guns slung along their backs and holstered at their hips and stays silent. The pistols you two picked up are in the glove compartment, and the ammo's strategically buried underneath a pile of clothes at your feet. It's okay, you try to tell him, meeting his eyes. We prepared for this.

One of the leader's other cohorts pulls his own black mask down and whispers into the leader's ear. When he's given permission to speak, the young man looks straight at Jisung and asks, "Are you Han Jisung?"

"Who's asking?" Jisung shoots you a look, but you can only shrug in response.

"There was a group of guys looking for their friend. Their description matched your face, but I guess it doesn't matter now. They went to the base a couple miles south." The young man nods in the direction of the base you were at only a couple days before. "Probably more undead than alive at this point."

"What...do you mean by that?"

"He means," their leader snaps, "that the military base down south got infected. Don't know when. But it was a group of seven, led by some guy named Chad or Chan or something. We tried to get 'em to join, but they were deadset on finding shelter.” He snorts. “Their funeral."

Mingi's finished taking your things, so the leader and the younger man (you catch his name when the leader calls out to him—Wooyoung?) pull on their masks and take off, leaving you and Jisung in the middle of the road. He's silent again, driving down the vast expanse of nothingness with only his playlist to serve as background noise.

"Where to now?" you try, eyes searching his face to gauge his reaction.

"Did you know?" It's a whisper you almost don't hear over the wind in your ears.

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know that they were..." He doesn't finish his sentence. The way your mouth clamps shut, gaze falling to your lap, tells him everything he needs to know.

His grip tightens on the wheel, and you jolt forward when he comes to an abrupt halt, throwing open the door and walking off, slamming it behind him. "Jisung?" You follow him out, but he whirls around to face you, face scrunched as he crooks a finger in your direction.

"You lied to me!"

"Look-"

"I fucking trusted you! You were the only person I had left! I saw my best friend get murdered with my own two fucking eyes!” He’s blinking back tears as he shouts at you. “I've spent god knows how long hoping that the rest of my friends were alive, and the fact that you saw them on that base...the fact that you fucking lied to me..." He takes a deep breath, eyes screwed shut. It’s silent for a long time. His shoulders loosen, hands falling flat, but when he opens his eyes, you feel a chill run down your spine. He's built a concrete wall between you two, locking you out with four simple words: "You're on your own."

"Jisung, what-"

"You heard me." The sentence is curt. He's wiped away years of friendship and whatever romance you might've had all in one fell swoop. (But maybe you did that yourself when you lied to him.) "You're on your own." He enunciates each syllable as clearly as possible, lacing them with as much venom as possible. You wither under his gaze.

He tosses one of the pistols at your feet. No extra ammo; you only get what's already loaded. He drives off without you, and you're left with nothing but the bag you packed that first night, a pistol, and the clothes on your back.

So yeah, the first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

You learn how to get by alone, rationing what's left in your bag and clinging to the shadows to avoid a fight. You learn to ignore the rumble in your stomach in favor of focusing on other things, like the distant noise of motorcycles. (You hold your breath when you hear them, pray they don't come close. They’ve taken enough from you already.)

It's lonely. You and Jisung might not have always agreed on everything, but the weight of solitude, real solitude, drags you down like a ball and chain fastened to your ankles, making each step forward unbearable. Some nights, you see his truck parked in the distance, in the garage of old houses or partially masked by foliage. You want to approach him, beg for forgiveness, beg for what you had back.

Instead you tiptoe past, giving the vehicle a wide berth.

You spend some mornings thumbing through the rest of the Polaroids you have. Most of them (unsurprisingly) are of you and Jisung. There’s one of him posing in front of the most expensive cheesecake shop in town (he’d been drooling at the window displays for weeks), one of you facing the ocean, back turned to the camera (you begged him to go for spring break), and one Hyunjin took of you two playing beer pong at one of the frat’s many parties (you were never quite sure why drunk Jisung had better aim than sober Jisung; you ended up losing these matches).

You don’t know why you do it. You know that taking a trip down memory lane is the single worst thing to be doing, but you do it anyway. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you miss Jisung. 

Maybe you miss yourself.

The next time you see Jisung, you're in a convenience store infested with zombies. You weren't planning to enter, having heard the tell-tale noises of confrontation, but you caught a glimpse of who was doing the fighting and couldn't walk away.

Jisung's backed up against a corner, trying to beat away the zombies surrounding him with a hatchet. (Keyword being trying: he's just one guy against five disgusting bags of meat trying to kill him.) You see blood all over him, dripping onto the floor, and decide to intervene. He should be grateful when you bash their heads in with his barbed baseball bat, left discarded across the store, but—

"I had that under control."

"Jisung, I-"

"Save it." He wipes the blade of the hatchet on the ragged pants of one of the creatures that attacked him. "Thanks. And keep the bat. You look like you need it."

"Jisung, just listen to me."

"What could you possibly have to say to me? The damage has been done."

"I was trying to protect you!" He rolls his eyes, and you're worried he'll walk away, but his feet stay planted. "How was I supposed to tell you that all your friends got infected, huh? How do you tell someone that? Hell, I wasn't even sure if it was them!" He refuses to meet your gaze, refuses to respond. "Dammit, Jisung..." You screw your eyes shut, but there’s not even a hint of reaction from him.

“You know what, if you’re not gonna listen to me, then fine. I’ll go.” Swivelling on the balls of your feet, you make to walk away, to return to solitude. You don’t look back.

“Wait!” There’s a desperate tone to it that almost makes you want to cave, almost makes you want to return to what life was before you reached the base. You barely manage to keep your head forward, even as you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

"I'm sorry.” His voice comes out soft, something above a whisper but far below his normal speaking voice. “I thought about it after I kicked you out, and you were right. I wouldn't have told me either. Guess I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong," he chuckles. "If you don't forgive me, I get that. You can take some of my food, and we can part ways again, but for what it's worth...I missed you."

You sigh, looking out the cracked store window. "Look, I'm sorry too. It was a tough choice, but I should've been honest with you." It's kinda gross to be trying to make amends here, what with one foot stepping in zombie excrement and all, but your head hangs low in apology anyway.

Your head snaps up when you hear him sniffle, and his eyes are struggling to hold back tears. When you open your arms, he's quick to wrap his arms around you and crumple into your embrace, voice muttering broken apologies. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles. "I missed you so much." You two stand there and let the moment drag out, let Jisung dampen your shirt for what feels like hours.

There might not be much hope left in the tumultuous reality you've found yourselves in, but as long as you're together, you think you stand a chance at weathering the storm.

"Shit," Jisung hisses that night, wiping blood off his arms with a damp cloth. He should've taped himself up before going on a supply run, but he'd been running out of tape; that was the reason he risked entering the infested store at all. The bite marks on either side of his forearm run red and raw, and Jisung fixes his gaze to the popcorn ceiling to avoid throwing up then and there.

A glance is all it takes for him to gag, and he washes the cloth off, red water spiraling into the sink. He caps the water bottle he used and takes a good look at himself in the mirror.

There's blood across the right side of his face. (He's not sure if it's his or not.) There are deep lines in his forehead from months of stress, dark circles underneath his eyes. He figures he should've gotten more sleep while he still could, remembers all the times you bugged him about going to bed early.

He never listened.

He never listens.

If you were with him, he wouldn't have gone in alone, wouldn't have gotten surrounded, wouldn't have gotten bit. Maybe he wouldn't have even gone in at all. Lord knows you've always been his impulse control.

That's it, then. I've got a day or so left then... He wraps the clean(ish) cloth around the bite and resists the urge to squeeze until he bleeds out on the bathroom floor. There's only one thing left to do.

You're in the middle of shaking the dust off the former tenants’ couch cushions when you notice Jisung emerge from the bathroom. "I did some digging around, and I think these'll fit you." He catches the clothes you toss him wordlessly. "You good?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Kill me."

Okay. Well. You were expecting something more along the lines of "check if the truck is locked" or "kiss me."

"Wh-" The word gets lodged in your throat when he lifts his hand to show you the bite. His whole forearm's red at this point, blood trickling from it despite the sopping red cloth in his hand. He tries for a lighthearted grin.

(It doesn't work. Jisung's never been a good liar.)

"Please. I want to die on my own terms." To himself, he mutters, "You always deserved better, anyway. All I ever did was get angry and leave you behind." He's focused on the way the blood runs down his arm and fingers before falling down, down, down. The hardwood floor takes it like a champ, he thinks. 

It's really kinda funny how he can think things like that when he knows he has to die, and he has the audacity to laugh. Maybe he’s only laughing because he’s losing a lot of blood.

You cup his face with both hands, the couch cushion tossed to the side, and he hesitates before leaning in. "How- how do you get to decide what I deserve? Decide what I want?" your voice breaks, vision blurred from tears. "You're all I want." Your foreheads touch as you sob, tears mingling with Jisung's blood as they hit the floor. "This isn't fair! I just got you back and- and-" The cry that rips itself from your throat is guttural, a bubbling noise produced from the back of your throat. This time it's Jisung who lets you cry into him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"You're so fucking stupid! I hate you!" you scream, nails digging into his shoulders. You may as well be telling the world where you are, but your mind doesn't bother registering it. Before you know it, you're slipping, legs unable to keep you up. You're so tired. It's been a long, arduous few months. "I hate you so much!"

But you don't mean it. You never could.

You weep at his feet, clutching at his jeans in an effort to pull yourself up. "I hate you..."

Maybe it's the look on his face when you pull away to gulp down air like your life depends on it; broken, beaten. Maybe it's the crushing hopelessness that hits you; when Jisung's gone, so are you. Hellish as this world may be, Jisung's the only thing that makes you feel like your last moments might not be so bad. He's your home, your tiny shred of sunshine and hope.

When he tugs you back to eye level, you smash your lips onto his, hand on the back of his head. He responds immediately, mouth moving against yours, hand tugging at your waist (closer, closer, closer).

But then his brain catches up to his body. "Wait," he turns so you're leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, "wait, this- this isn't right."  He steps back, eyes wide as he puts distance between you. "Now you're-"

"Infected." You think back to the news coverage of the disease. All it took was a drop of saliva for someone to be at risk. You wring your hands, tear your eyes from his forearm (his veins bulge as if they're fit to burst). "I guess I just realized, you know?" A nervous chuckle escapes your lips. "Who else...who else is gonna..." Your voice breaks again, eyes brimming with tears. "Who else is gonna put up with you in the afterlife?"

He's in front of you again in a heartbeat, wiping your tears. With a scoff, he says, "God, what would I do without you?"

You bandage him up properly after that, spend the night talking until you're asleep, head rested on his chest. It's comforting, he thinks. He wishes he could have held you like this back when your only concerns were your uptight Calculus professor and the stress of finals.

"Better late than never, I guess," he whispers, breaking the silence. Your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, your cheek smashed against his chest as you sleep. "Though I guess we might've been a little too late, huh?"

The sun rises, golden light in your face forcing you to blink your eyes awake. Jisung stirs at your movement, his good hand tightening around you as he tries to stay asleep.

"Wake up." You press a kiss to his knuckles. "We don't have much time."

His voice comes out deep and gravelly, speaking for the first time in a few hours. "I know. Just five more minutes like this, I promise. Five more minutes..." And he's asleep again, mouth open in a little "o." You curl into him, listening for his heartbeat; weak, but still there. He’s still alive and so are you.

You think five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

"Ready?" you ask. The pistol shakes in your hands; you might not be the best shot, but you can't afford to miss now. You try to will your nerves into complacency. (It doesn't work.)

"Wait!" he says, eyes wide. His veins are clearly visible along the infected arm, snaking up his shoulder and kissing his collarbone. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a stupid, million-watt grin. "I love you. Even, uh, even if I am pointing a gun at you." He waves the other pistol a bit to prove his point. "I just wanted you to know before we, you know. Blow each other's brains out."

"Hey." You catch his attention, match his smile for the last time. "I love you too. Just thought you should know before I blow your brains out." He laughs, and it's a real, genuine laugh blooming from his stomach; it’s a loud, hearty sound and makes your heart feel so full that you can't help but laugh with him, laugh at the fact that you're about to shoot the boy you love, laugh at everything that landed you here.

Then the laughter calms down. The wind itself holds its breath, refusing to let even a slight breeze slip through. "On three. Ready?" Jisung nods, starting the count.

"One."

(It's sad you two will never get to see the end of it all, or if there's an end to begin with. Who knows, maybe there are enough true leaders left in the world to make something out of nothing. You hope that this world learns to heal from its wounds, no matter what. But in the end, you guess it doesn't matter. The sun will rise and set regardless. 

“No matter how things change…”

“...some things stay the same.” With those words, you and Jisung taped up the cardboard box labeled “TIME CAPSULE” in black Sharpie. “Man, I hope future us doesn’t hate past us too much for this,” Jisung said, managing to find a space for the large box in his closet. “It’s gonna be a long four years.” Right below the time capsule label read “OPEN AFTER GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE.” 

You’d nodded, hiding the box from view by moving Jisung’s clothes in front of it. “There we go. Now we won’t be tempted to open it.” The rest of the day was spent getting ice cream way too close to dinner to be healthy and trying to find out what the other wrote in their letter to their future self.

You don’t know why you’re remembering the makeshift time capsule you two spent half a day filling, but knowing that you’ll never get to open it makes your toes curl with an unpleasant sadness.)

"Two."

(In a way, you think you're almost grateful for what happened. Despite how twisted and fucked up it all was, you doubt you and Jisung would have ever found each other, truly found each other, without it. In your final moments, you think back to a conversation you had with him the week of the announcement.

"You know what I realized?" he had asked, making himself comfortable on your bed.

"What?"

"Parallel lines stay so close to each other, but they never meet. That's so sad."

"Jisung, are you crying over lines?"

"You know what else I realized?" he asked again, wiping tears from his eyes. "All the other pairs of lines meet once and then drift apart forever."

You ended up comforting him, leaving your homework behind. "Promise me we'll be like parallel lines. Promise me we won't start drifting." His eyes were shiny with tears as he held his pinky out to you, your pinkies interlaced in eternal promise.

Staring down the barrel of the pistol in Jisung's hands, you start to think that this is the part where you start drifting.)

"Three!"

[scripttorture]

I know torturers use clean torture more often now and it can very hard for a victim to prove they were tortured. However, I’m a little confused as to how doctors (assuming the victim goes to get medical attention after they are released and the doctor is competent and not paid off by someone to lie) do not get a sense that something has happened to this person while, say, in police custody. Is there a way to tell someone was starved or force-fed? Why does no one catch scratches or infection

(2) from pumping? I’m running out of ideas that could be possibly more ‘visible’. I know forced exercise would be impossible to see. And-I forget what it’s called? Falka?- where the circulation is cut off in the hands-I assume this would be hard to detect in the swelling and numbness went down. I’m asking all this because I’m planning to have my torture victim seek medical attention after being raped, going on a hunger strike and being force-fed, and some other U.S-based tortures but I am at a(3) loss as to how to write the doctor’s reaction, treatment, and what the character says to the doctor. My character is a spy so perhaps the doctor could be underground although plausibility still legitimate and just unaware and doesn’t ask about why the character was held. But I got to wondering what doctors do in real life and how torture can go unnoticed by people who know what healthy bodies should look like.

-

I don’t think torture does go unnoticed by doctors exactly. Doctors can and do report injuries and marks and their patient’s obvious distress. The thing is that with clean tortures that usually doesn’t amount to conclusive proof.

 They do see scratches and bruises and occasionally infections. But if there’s a possible innocuous or ‘normal’ reason for those scratches or bruises then to prove torture the doctor has to prove those marks were deliberately inflicted and how they were deliberately inflicted.

 That’s- not impossible but it’s really really hard.

 It’s not that clean tortures never leave any marks at all. It’s that those marks are small and inconclusive.

 So the swelling in the feet that victims of stress positions get? That’s also something that happens to elderly people who have trouble walking and the symptom of a couple of diseases. And if a torture victim dies of kidney failure and has swelling in their feet- well what do you know a couple of kidney diseases cause that swelling and it’s the up to someone to prove that victim didn’t have an undetected kidney disease.

 Small scratches and bruises are often excused as accidental or brushed off completely. Sometimes torturers claim that small scratches or bruises were self-inflicted by the victim or the result of prison fights.

 Infections and bad stomach bugs happen, even in clean well kept environments. And proving that a patient’s vomiting and diarrhoea isn’t just a bug can be difficult. Especially because well- if it’s the same kind of infection someone could pick up naturally then how do you prove it’s different?

 With people who are starved, torturers can outright deny it but they also sometimes claim it’s self inflicted (ie the victim is refusing to eat the food they’re given) or they claim the prisoner’s diet has been reduced for ‘medical reasons’. Which covers a host of sins.

 What all of this boils down to is that torture is really hard to prove in court based on one victim.

 But for your purposes I’m not sure that matters.

 If what you’re concentrating on is the doctor and the doctor’s response then being able to prove torture is a side issue. The doctor can just look at the pattern of small injuries, hear the victim’s story, see the victim’s distress and decide that this is probably true.

 If the aim here in the story isn’t to write an accurate torture trial, but to have a doctor help their patient and then ‘definitely, absolutely, prosecutably torture’ doesn’t have to be the goal. ‘Probably torture’ is good enough.

 In the same vein, a mental health professional does not need to establish the burden of proof in a sexual assault case in order to treat someone. They can just decide that this is likely based on what they see and take the patient’s word for it.

 By all means include things like scratches to support the victim character’s story but I’m not sure you need to. From the doctor’s point of view a lot of this is judging the victim character’s distress or mental health generally.

 If the character has recently been raped and tortured then you can choose to have their symptoms be obvious. Not everyone’s would be but it is perfectly possible for someone to come out of that visibly mentally ill.

 I don’t have more then a dozen accounts from doctors who treated torture victims. It would be fair to say that some of them didn’t notice that what they were treating was torture. One of the accounts in particular is the doctor describing how it took weeks of seeing the same injuries in different people for them to realise what was going on. In that case the victims all refused to speak to this doctor (I think the doctor was the same ethnicity as the torturers which may have been a factor).

 But some doctors do recognise what they’re seeing.

 I’m basing this on few accounts but my instinct is that a major factor is whether or not the doctor is personally well informed on human rights issues. Doctors who recognise that torture can happen and are vaguely aware of how it happens are more likely to spot signs then doctors who don’t read the news.

 I think if you want the best possible response from the doctor then how you build up the doctor’s background and interests matters.

 We don’t have enough specialists in any country. Wherever your survivor character is they couldn’t walk in to a random hospital (or underground clinic) and hope to find a specialist.

 It’s- an odd analogy but it’s reminding me of treatment for gender dysphoria. In the UK you can’t just walk in and expect to see a specialist in gender, you’d need a specific referral to a specialist clinic. Many of the doctors you’d see in a normal everyday sense would have never met a trans person before. Despite this some of them would be well informed and helpful (they’re not all like that by any stretch but people can get lucky).

 So if you want your doctor to be able to help this character that says a fair bit about the doctor. It says they listen to their patients. It says they’re informed about current events. It says they’re probably a member of an organisation like Amnesty International. They might have worked somewhere with a lot of torture cases and have some prior experience.

 This is now running into the fact I’m not a doctor and the only medical specialist in torture that I’ve been able to speak to was involved in gathering evidence for torture cases, not treatment.

 I think there are a range of possible reactions your doctor character could have. An ill-informed doctor in a rich country might reject the possibility of torture out of hand and assume the survivor is making it up. That’s the worst case.

 A doctor who believes the survivor could still be relatively ill-informed. They might be shocked that torture could ‘happen around here’. This is a relatively normal reaction. It wouldn’t stop the doctor from showing the survivor compassion and helping as best they can, but it would impact on the quality of help. Because this doctor probably doesn’t know how to find any specialists or what specialist treatment would look like.

 In the best case scenario you’ve got a doctor who knows a little about torture without being a specialist themselves.

 This doctor might be able to try and get referrals to a specialist. They could try to look up more information in order to help their patient. This would all take time.

 I think the most important thing doctors can do at this stage is reassure and affirm the survivor. There’s some evidence that affirming a patient’s experience of pain reduces the chances of chronic pain becoming a long term problem.

 An informed doctor could, at the very least, tell their patient about the most common symptoms they could experience. For a victim of clean torture the doctor could reassure the victim that this was torture, that the level of pain they experienced is normal. That this was exactly as bad as they remember.

 Emphasising that the tortures they survived can and do kill people would probably help impress the seriousness of the situation. This is important because survivors often think clean tortures are not as bad/painful as scarring tortures. They’ve often internalised torture apologia and believe that their physical reactions to something that left no marks makes them unusual or weak.

 Talking about memory problems early and stressing that they are normal would also probably help. I say ‘probably’ because I’m unaware of any studies. But anecdotally- I’ve lost count of the number of trauma survivors who have told me they didn’t know memory problems were possible and thought their experiences were unusual. Telling someone their experience is normal makes a difference.

 Physical treatment for most of the clean tortures used in the USA is essentially bed rest, food and water. Antibiotics for infections. The physical treatment is not difficult and a normal doctor should easily be able to do it.

 It’s the complex mental health problems that require specialists.

 For the conversation itself- I write in a very character-driven way. So I would approach this entirely through how I see the characters.

 The survivor might seem very emotional but they might also seem… numb. The survivor could zone out or experience a flashback. They could be angry or seem aggressive. They could be distraught.

 Similarly the doctor could experience a whole range of emotions. Disbelief that this is happening (even if they believe the survivor). Anger. Despair. They could come across as unemotional because they shut down that part of themselves and fall back on their training.

 I decide how to play these sorts of situations based on what I feel the characters are like and how they respond to each other.

 For a furious survivor the doctor might try to put on a more calming facade because they’re trying not to distress the patient. If the survivor is in floods of tears the doctor might find themselves getting angry at the people who did this and struggling to control it because that response isn’t helping the patient.

 Either of those scenarios (and lots more) are plausible and they create different opportunities to talk about the characters.

 Think about what shows your audience more about these characters and think about what creates something different.

 If your story shows the abuse your character has just survived then you want the scene with the doctor to have a different atmosphere and emotional tone. So if the survivor was furious while they were abused perhaps this is the time to allow them to be sad. If they froze and shut down while tortured may be this is when it all crashes in.

 It’s about balance between the scenes. Giving them a different tone helps keep people reading by showing them that things are progressing, changing.

 I hope that helps. :)

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[spectraspecs-writes]

Dantooine - Chapter 43 (Mission)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 42. Chapter 44.

@isquirtleinyoureye thank you for reading you get a tag, last call tho dude

——–

Before I head out to the grove, I want to stop by the Hawk. For one thing, I haven't been there for two weeks and I miss my friends. And for another, more practical reason - I’ve got a weird feeling about this task, and I want some good armor and some energy shields before heading out, as well as my good stamina implant.

I knock on the bulkhead. “Hey, anybody home?”

“RENA!” Suddenly this blue force rams into me in a full-bodied hug - Mission, gotta be. “I haven’t seen you in a month!”

“I missed you, too, Mission.”

With one last squeeze, she lets go of me and pulls me into the main hold. “I can’t believe you’re a Jedi now, that’s so cool!”

“Not exactly,” I say, “There’s still a little training I have to do.”

“More training?” Carth asks, coming into the main hold from the cockpit, “They’re had you holed up in there for a month and there’s still more you have to do?”

“Not much, just one more test, then I’m a full Jedi.”

“What kind of test?”

“I don’t really know, something about confronting the Dark Side.”

“Perhaps they’re having you test yourself in battle,” Canderous says. I honestly didn’t hear him come in. “I did the same once myself.”

“The Jedi aren’t like Mandalorians, Canderous,” Carth says, “I doubt it would be something so crass as a simple battle.”

“No battle is simple if the enemy is worthy, Republic,” Canderous answers sharply.

“Boys, boys, enough,” I say, trying to stop them. 

“They’ve been arguing like that at least once a day,” Mission says, but evidently they aren’t important enough to distract her for long. “Can you show me something cool with the Force?”

“I’m not sure Master Zhar would approve of me using the Force for party tricks,” I say, and she looks disappointed. “But…” And she looks excited again. I take a quick look around the main hold - Carth and Canderous are bickering right under a coolant vent - a series of air shafts that funnel hot air away from the engine. The lever to open it is on the other side of hold, but I can switch it with just a flick of the wrist. “Watch this,” I whisper to her, and focusing on the switch, I flick my wrist at it. 

The air vent suddenly opens and Carth and Canderous are blasted with warm air, stopping the argument cold. Mission laughs her high pitched laugh while the boys try to recover and I flip the switch back.

“Very funny,” Carth says sarcastically, straightening out his jacket, “Cute. Did you come back here for a reason, or just to berate me?”

“I see no reason it can’t be both,” I say with a shrug. Carth glares at me a bit - he’s taking this awfully personal. I was just goofing off, chill out, dude. “I was about to go out and complete the task the Jedi Council asked of me, and I wanted to grab an energy shield and some armor.”

“Can I go with you?” Mission asks quickly, “I’m gonna lose it if I stay here much longer.”

“I’d love your help, Mission.”

“Count me in, too,” Canderous says, “I’ve heard tell of Mandalorian raiders on these plains. I look forward to showing them what a real warrior can do.”

“I would have thought you’d take the opposite stance, Canderous,” Carth says. Here we go again. “After all, they’re vicious pirates. Sounds just like a Mandalorian to me.”

“They’re pathetic!” Canderous growls, “They’re taking scraps when they should be taking worlds!”

Okay, I’m not sitting through another spat. “I’ll be glad to have you, Canderous. Suit up,” I say to him and Mission, “We’ll leave in a bit.”

I grab my energy shield, my implant, and the Echani armor I found on Taris. Mission picked out some combat armor and some sunglasses I know she took from my stuff but I’ll forgive it this time because she looks good in them. Canderous is definitely overdressed and wearing some heavy armor I don’t even remember finding. Maybe he bought it? No idea. But we’re set to go so we do.

“Mission, what’s this I heard about Griff?” I ask her, because I’ve been wanting to ask her about it for two weeks, “Carth told me you heard something.”

“Yeah!” she says, and I can tell she’s got a story to tell and she’s just been waiting for me to come back so she can tell it. “So a couple weeks ago, Lena turns up again, the core slime. And she’s all like, Mission it’s so good to see you again and all that crap. So I’m like, stop lying you nerf-herder, because she took Griff away from me!” (I’m nodding along with the story, she’s very expressive.) “And so she’s like, Mission what are you talking about? She said Griff was the one who decided to leave me behind!”

“No way!” I exclaim as the droid lets us pass into the courtyard, “That lying schutta!”

“Right? And she was just standing there, trashing my brother, calling him bad news and Hutt-spawn! I can’t believe she’d even try lying to me about him like that, saying that Griff wanted to leave me behind even though she offered to pay for my ticket. She told me he thought looking after me was holding him back.”

Now I’m not so sure. This sounds like a lot of lies in sequence. And if you’re only a casual liar - which is most people, I’ve only met one or two serious liars - your lies aren’t so well-thought out and in sequence. “Do you think any of it’s true?”

“Don’t tell me you believe it!” she gasps at me, shifting her anger from Lena to me.

“No, I didn’t say that. I’m just wondering if there’s anything she said that you buy.”

“Well, she said he was always blaming other people for his problems,” she says, ‘He did do that. And she said he was working for Czerka on Tatooine.”

“We could probably verify that if we stop on Tatooine at some point. If we have time.”

“I’m just glad he’s free of her,” Mission says. Then she thinks for a moment. “Only…”

“What?”

“Sometimes I think about what she said. There might have been some truth to it.”

“How do you mean?”

“What if... what if it was his idea to leave me behind? I'm not saying Griff would just abandon me. But maybe... maybe he did want to leave me behind.” She stops, planting her feet in the grass. I go back to her, and Canderous goes forward a bit before stopping, like he’s guarding us a little. “Just temporarily, you know?” she says, “He might have done that if he planned on coming back later.”

“Makes sense. Why pay more shuttle fare than you have to?”

“Right. But things didn't usually work out for Griff the way he planned, you know? And that's when he'd get in trouble,” she says, “He was always borrowing money he could never pay back. He might have been trying to skip out on his debts when he left Taris. He would have had to leave his little sister behind so it would look like he was coming back.”

“So he just… he sacrificed you to save his own hide?” I say. Sounds cold.

“Yeah... well, no,” Mission stammers, “Not exactly. Look, all I'm trying to say is that the more I think back the more I realize I might be idolizing my brother a bit. Not seeing all his faults. I still want to find him, if we can. I need to see him again. It's just that I'm not sure how I'll react when I do.”

“I think you’ll know what to say when the time comes,” I tell her, taking her hand comfortingly.

“Maybe,” she says, smiling at me, “We'll see. I don't... I don't want to judge him yet. Maybe Lena was lying. Or maybe... maybe she wasn't. All I know is I'd like to speak to Griff myself. If we have time, I'd like to go talk to the Czerka Corp rep on Tatooine and see what he has to say about where my brother is now.”

“If we can, it’s the first place we’ll go.”

“Thanks, Reen.” I love that nickname.

“Can we get going?” Canderous says, “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“What sort of bad feeling?” Missions asks.

“No,” I say, ‘I feel it, too.” It just came, it was pretty sudden. I pull my lightsaber from my belt. “Mission, yo might want to pull out your vibroblade.”

“Got it,” she says, and she does.

Canderous leads us forward. I feel the Force start to pull me in a different direction, but it’s not so insistent that it won’t still be there after we’ve dealt with this feeling.

Suddenly Canderous stops. Listens. Then he shouts, “Kath hounds!” and fires his rifle at the barking mass of fur I suddenly see running at us. 

Without even thinking, I spring into action - literally spring, since I apparently Force jumped right to the kath hound, and I didn’t even know I could do that. I don’t like the idea of killing animals, but this feeling. Looking into the kath hound’s eyes, it isn’t just an animal looking for lunch. And what Master Zhar said - the Dark Side is twisting nature. Kath hounds generally tend to avoid people. But these three came right to us. Something’s wrong here. And I think it’s only a symptom of a bigger problem.

Mission slices at the last kath hound, and they lie dead at our feet. “That’s one thing you didn’t get on Taris is animals attacking you out of nowhere!”

“Rakghouls?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different,” she says, “Rakghouls are… rakghouls…”

“Rakghouls just wanted to infect,” Canderous says, “Like they were rabid. These kath hounds weren’t rabid. Something’s wrong here.”

“I think that’s what the Council wants me to fix,” I tell them both.

“Well, you’re the Jedi here,” Canderous says, “Where should we head?”

I turn back around. “Something pulled me in this direction,” I say, “I think we should follow it.”

He pulls his rifle back up. “Lead the way.”

[paroxysmics-blog]

❝ you can’t put the ocean in a box. she will shift, change, and retreat at will. ❞

( danielle campbell. 22. she/her. ) we spotted AIDEN QUINN-WRIGHT  in the wilds today, just another gear in the machine of the apocalypse. i heard she chose to go ROGUE for the end of the world. i guess it fits, seeing as she is known to be + adaptable & + resourceful, as well as - distracted & - suspicious. they often have supposed by james arthur stuck in their head while they hunt. i wonder if they’re prepared for what’s coming ? ( it’s trashcan faye!! )

tw: parent death

Also, this is a LONG ass bio omg you’ve been warned. I can send basics if you’d rather not read it all!!

before the end of the world,

The Kurtzman family teetered the line between working class and poverty, and bringing a child into the world in such a low-income home wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had always wanted to start a family of their own. Born to a young couple with more love than money to give, from birth to childhood: Elizabeth had always been too much to handle. Too loud, hyperactive, lacking the filter and resolve expected of young ladies raised in the South. Her parents, try as they might, had never been able to understand their daughter’s oddities, but boy did they adore her. Her early life was perfectly normal, perfectly happy, and their family seemed like one straight out of a movie. This changes when she gets sick. She is five and running in her grandparents backyard when the first symptoms show, chest tight and breathing labored. Asthma, the doctors tell her parents. Fairly easy to keep under control provided she had the right materials, inhalers and breathing treatments to keep it under control. That’s fine, they assure themselves. They’re living paycheck to pay check as is, but their child’s health is priority. The Kurtzman’s manage the added cost and life goes on as usual.

Until problems arise at school, which results in her teacher recommending she be taken to a family doctor for evaluation. It’s then that she’s diagnosed with ADHD. Another bill, something else tacked onto the long list of expenses for a family barely managing. Desperate times call for desperate measures and this pushes her parents into making a reckless choice. They decide to rise above and provide for their daughter no matter the cost, involving themselves with very shady people as a means to make extra money. The occasional job turns into unrealistic expectations and eventually debts catch up to them. In over their heads and fearing for their lives, they’re given an ultimatum. They swear they’ll pay them back gradually, they’re good for it, but that isn’t enough. Loud banging startles a sleeping Elizabeth awake. Her mother ushers her to the linen closet at the head of the stairs, and before she shuts the door she tells her to cover her ears and not come out until help arrives. “You’ll know it’s them when you hear the sirens, baby girl. I love you.“ Are the last words she speaks to her as she pulls the door shut and rushes to join her husband downstairs. They’re there to collect money they don’t have. Muffled shouts are heard and she can tell they’re arguing with someone. She moves to peek out the door and then — BANG. BANG.

She screams. Heavy feet shuffle through the house to her hiding place, but she’s already taken off down the stairs. The bodies of her mother and father lay in pools of blood in the hallway, staining her bare feet and trailing in her wake. She stops for one horrific moment to look at their lifeless forms before running…and running… until her lungs give way and her legs can’t carry her any longer. Alone and scared, she takes up residence on a park bench overnight. The next morning she wakes to a pair of middle-aged women surrounding her. One dials a number and not long after the police show up. She doesn’t move or speak beyond telling them her name, she just observes as a deputy talks about her like she isn’t there. They discuss how her parents had been found shot at point-blank range in their home the night before. “Suspected gang activity.” He says, beckoning the child to speak, to share any information she may know. She knows nothing, so she says nothing. Not that she would’ve been able to anyways. Once she’s safely collected by child protective services they placed her in the system until such a time as they found a family willing to take her on. ”It is for your protection.” They tell her on a loop, as if the more times they say it the truer it will become. The rest of her life will be spent looking over her shoulder, watching and waiting for the people who killed her parents to find her and finish the job should she ever decide to testify. It’s one spent on edge, constantly wondering who she can trust and whether their intentions are pure. Elizabeth Kurtzman legally became Aiden Quinn, a new name for a girl looking to start a brand new life.

Her saving grace comes in the form the cop assigned to her case, a family looking to adopt the girl they’d bonded with so effortlessly. The family works hard to gain her trust and she eventually caves; they’re kind, they treat her like one of their own, and eventually she thinks maybe she is. Two years pass and she’s started calling them mom and dad, their kids her siblings. The move to Milam, Texas in the middle of her Freshman year came as a surprise, one that she ultimately struggled with, but the girl had nothing keeping her in Florida beyond sentimentality. Her parents had been dead for years, she wasn’t even allowed to visit their graves – her childhood home had likely been sold to someone new and painted over to hide the death. She wonders whether the new family knows what happened there, or if the house had even been left standing period. This doesn’t matter, she reminds herself, as she worked to adjust to another new home, a new town with people she wasn’t sure would accept her as she came.

The three and a half years spent at Buckholts School passed in a haze of fist fights, detentions, and never quite fitting in. She had friends, a handful of them, but actively ostracized herself from her peers so as to keep a healthy distance between them. To them, she was an enigma; one day she was quiet, and kind, the next she was pinning a bully twice her size up against a locker for picking on a defenseless target. If they wanted to take out their anger on someone, they could take it out on her. Loud, spazzy, and sarcastic didn’t exactly make for the ideal friend, most people finding her to be a bit too much to handle. She was never needlessly rude to the people around her though, they just seldom bothered seeing beyond what she presented at face value. Her tendency to talk in class and scarcely pay attention to what the teachers were actually saying painted a pretty obvious picture: Aiden was not smart, and she certainly was not making good grades. She made it by with relative ease, however her scattered attention span and general disregard of her intelligence level downed her confidence to approach school with nothing but a shrug. Even still, she did will enough to go to college if she really wanted to. The thing was, she wasn’t sure she did.

For the first time since she was a child, there were no limitations. She was free to be as reckless as she wanted, all she had to do was wait for the day she turned eighteen. As graduation came and went in a blur of its own, the girl watched on as all her friends went off to college or settled into cozy desk jobs handed to them by their parents. But that wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. Packing nothing but a duffle bag full of clothes and other basic necessities, the first year after High School is spent traveling the country in her beatup pickup. It felt almost like a rite of passage to her; there were no rules, no expectations, only her and the open road. Other than coming home for the holidays, she saw no point in returning. Eventually her parents begin wondering when she’s going to come home for good, to the place she belongs, so she does. Her decision to enroll in the Fire Academy not long after that was met with hesitation from all sides, each person more against it than the last; but she had finally found something she was passionate about. The next three years are spent working under their Fire Department and attending courses in chemistry, communications, and computer science at the local community college.

the end of the world,

News of the spreading outbreak falls on deaf ears, Aiden’s usual amount of sarcasm painting the situation in a humorous light. For someone who had consumed her fair share of zombie media, it just seemed to be a practical joke. A well thought out, deliberate joke. Her parents play the news on loop in the living room, her siblings share stories passed on by friends from school. Things grow more grim as days pass, but she continues her day-to-day, refusing to allow herself to get swept up into the madness like everyone else. Her first encounter with the undead comes that night at work. It’s the standard fare they’re told, a house fire on third. Suited up and on the way, a new alert comes in on her phone: VIRUS SPREADING. TAKE NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS. She never checks it. The woman whose house is on fire is inside, a bite in her neck, the rising flames lapping at her ankles as she reanimates before their eyes. At first they assume she’d passed out from a combination of stress and the fumes, but reality sets in as their questions are answered with groans and a nearly successful attempt at taking a bite out of her colleagues shoulder. The material on their suits is thick enough to keep them from easily being infected, but she doesn’t think twice as she buries the brunt of her axe in the woman’s skull.

It is her refusal to acknowledge that the virus was real that hurt the people she loved the most, the first wave of undead leaving only her, her mother, and two of her siblings in the wake of a disintegrating world. A family of ten turns to a family of four. Aiden’s mother is a proud woman who stops for no one.  Before long, word spreads that groups were forming within their general area, survivors coming together to build a better tomorrow — or at the very least to give themselves a better shot at making it that long. Aiden is the first to suggest they go. She doesn’t want to take the chance that they run out of resources, get trapped within the confines of their own house, etc. but her mother is hesitant. It takes time, weeks even, to convince her, and when she finally agrees they end up setting their sights on the Ailton Tower. While not the safest place to take up residence, her siblings would always be entertained and have a better shot at having a somewhat normal childhood, whatever that may be. They make it about halfway when they’re ambushed by a pair of walkers that’d been tailing them through through the forest. Axe in hand and a determination to protect what’s left of her family, the woman steps up, but falls short. Her mother sacrifices herself for her children and she is left with yet another gaping hole in her heart.

Another loss, another family member taken from her. Believing her mother’s initial refusal to join a group to be a sign, Aiden gathers the kids and they return home without a second glance. There’s no grieving, not when you have two people to look after. Bit by bit she reassembles herself though this responsibility, and with that her will to live. Pushing through the pain, she pulls on the denim jacket her father always used to wear and sets to work fortifying their home. Already fenced and two stories, it makes for a decent place to stay. The only way in and out is over, which comes in handy when faced with people looking to loot their already low supplies. The defense on the property is holding up well enough, but only just, and all it would take was a group big enough coming through to crash through their main source of protection. From that, the majority of her days are spent picking the neighborhood clean, going house by house to take whatever she’s able to find. Most of their former occupants are gone, whether by choice to leave or because the dead got them — she suspects the ones that were foolish enough to leave weren’t much better off.

Beyond the typical issues of someone fighting for survival in the midst of the apocalypse, finding the medication she needs has become increasingly difficult. Adderall isn’t a necessity, no, but it does keep her focused. Lacking the resolve to keep her mind and body from being jittery without it, the woman worries for the day she’s no longer able to get her hands on it. Not to mention that being so active means burning through inhalers, which have become as valuable to her as gold in their new world. If she can’t take care of herself, there’s no hope for her siblings. Most pharmacy’s have been picked dry and very little remains from her own visits Because of this, she’s a frequent barterer among the Toledo Bend residents, mostly paying visits to the saints and camp Serotonin, hoping she’ll be able to get her hands on the things she needs. If this means going without food some days so that her siblings are well provided for, that’s a chance she’s willing to take. At the end of the day it’s her and them against the world, no matter the consequences.

misc,

Her bio was honestly too long, so I’m not gonna put too much in here as of right now, but she’s just!!!! my little trash baby and definitely my favorite character I’ve played to date.

MBTI: ENTP(-T)

MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral

SIN: wrath

CHARACTER INSPO: Nick Miller, Chandler Bing, Rosita Espinosa, April Ludgate, 

CHARACTER TROPES: Pint-sized powerhouse, brilliant, but lazy, defrosting ice queen, hidden heart of gold, sugar-and-ice personality, they’re just a handful lmao.

connections,

Uh, LITERALLY ANYTHING, but like here’s a few potential ideas!!

Friends/unlikely friends

Enemies/ex-friends/rivals

Ex(es)

Fwb or a fling

Good influence, lord knows the girl REALLY needs one

Alternately, a bad influence, someone who brings out the worst parts of her

Someone she just generally cares about, even if she won’t readily admit it to anyone but them 

And honestly, i’d really love someone she trusts wholeheartedly, which in turn extends to her sharing the whereabouts or her twin brothers in the event that something happens to her ( this is a big, big one !!! )

Just anything, pls!!

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Sea Legs

Sea Legs

Ch. 6 - Legs

Boku No Hero Academia / My Hero Academia Quirkless, Mermaid, Modern AU

Rating: Explicit | Excessive Fluff, Blood, Wounds, Nudity, Sex, Cursing and Vulgar Language

Genre: Romance / Humor / Angst

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (oc)

A trip to her grandmothers beachfront home was something that Koge had done every year of her life. This time, an unlikely discovery would change her life forever. Who knew explaining how to be a human could be so hard.

Four days had passed, and much to Koge’s surprise, Bakugou’s wound had already begun to close up with no signs of infection or damage. Although he could swim with limited pain, there was something that continued to worry Koge. It seemed as if he were only getting more lethargic, with occasional complaints of a tight chest and headaches. Though, when Koge tried to express her worry, he shot her down, saying that he was still just recovering from all the physical effort and trauma he had been through that day. It made sense, so for now, she allowed him to make the choices concerning his recovery.

“You don’t think you can make it home yet?” Koge asked as she worked on peeling an orange, placing the skin in her lap as she pulled it free. Laying beside her on his back, Bakugou shook his head, fiddling with one of the ornaments that hung off his necklace. It was a large tooth, one he had claimed had been from a Great White, a trophy from one of his first hard kills. “I don’t think so. I get tired just rolling over. I think I need at least another day or two. What weird thing are you eating, now?” Bakugou let the necklace fall into place, turning his attention to the orange in her hands.

“It’s an orange. Want to try some?” Koge pulled off a section, handing it towards him. Face scrunching up in mild disgust, Bakugou shook his head, rolling over to make his way back to the pool. “No, I’m feeling kinda sick to my stomach.”

Watching closely as he dove into the pool, Koge couldn’t help but frown, finding all these symptoms odd. It was hard for her to pinpoint what was causing them, but she was positive it couldn’t be from what he had gone through. With a sigh, she ate the orange piece instead, scooting closer to the edge of the pool to talk to him easier. “So, you told me you’d tell me more about you. There’s something I haven’t asked yet that I’m really curious about.”

Bakugou only grunted in response, not positive or negative, currently floating about on his back.

“How old are you?”

“I turn twenty one in about a month. According to how you people celebrate birth, at least. You?”  “I’ll be twenty two in November--”

“What?!” Bakugou suddenly snapped, shocking Koge so badly that she dropped some of the orange peel into the water. “You’re older than me?!”

“Uh, yes?” Koge couldn’t resist giggling at his reaction, leaning over a bit to see where the peel had gone so she could fetch it out. “Does that offend your sensitive ego?” Grumbling, Bakugou moved closer, snatching the peel and shoving it back onto her lap for her. “I don’t have a sensitive ego. I just can’t fucking believe that you’re older than me, on top of all the other shit you can do that I can’t.”

“Like what? Thank you for getting that, by the way.”

“Like walking,” He didn’t bother responding to her thanks, too into his ranting. “I can read, but I can’t write like you can. You can sing! That’s a big fucking deal back home, everyone can sing but me. Almost. Singing is like… if you can’t do it, then you’re broken or some shit.”

“You’re not broken, Katsuki.” Koge ate another piece of the orange, waving it around in the air a bit as she tried to think. “It’s just… I mean, there has to be things you can do that other people can’t. You can kill an Orca, right? I bet that’s hard. They’re really big.” Her praise calmed him a bit, one of his hands reaching up to touch the teeth around his neck. Still, she could see that he was struggling with whatever insecurities had made him so upset, and she had found it best to not push those buttons. He had a tendency to shut down when he got truly angry, going to the bottom of the pool to not return for hours. It was more like a childish tantrum that annoyed her, but she couldn’t know the root of the problem after just knowing him for a few days.

“Damn right I can.” Bakugou boasted, resting his arms up onto the edge of the pool by her legs. Crossing them, he rested his head down with a yawn. “I’m bored.”

“I know. Sorry, there’s nothing I can really do about it. There’s no internet out here, so I can’t show you anything else on my phone that I don’t have saved. Maybe you should sleep, you look really tired.” In that moment of looking down at him, something caught her eye. With a clear view of his shoulders and upper back, she could see what looked to be hives or blisters covering his skin in patches, varying in size. “Katsuki, does your skin itch?”

“Eh? Yeah, a little, but whatever.”

“No whatever, you literally have hives or something on your back.”

“The fuck is that?” Turning his head a bit, he was able to see some on his shoulder, reaching back to touch them lightly. “Shit, I’ve never had those before. They sting.”

“Don’t touch them. Come up out of the water for a while.” She put the remainder of the orange and the peel off to the side, standing to adjust his blanket into a better position. With a sigh, Bakugou followed instruction, though Koge noticed that he struggled to pull himself from the water.

“I’m worried about what’s going on with you, I don’t think this should be happening. Is there something wrong with the water?” Koge knelt down beside him once he was lying still to observe his back closer, finding that the rash had covered most of his back. Bakugou shook his head, which once again was resting on his arms. “No, it’s fine from what I can tell. If the water was bad I would have had a reaction to it way sooner. And I’ve been in dirty water before, this hasn’t happened.” There was little to no concern in his voice, masked by exhaustion.

“I’m going to go to he house to see if there is something I can find to treat this. Just… stay out of the water. Please.” Koge didn’t wait for a response before she was out of the cave and jogging down the beach, worry swimming around in her mind. What could that possibly be from? Headaches, hives, trouble breathing, and lethargy? Damn it, what did I do wrong?

Nearly sick to her stomach by the time she reached the house, she began to dig through her grandmothers wide collection of medication and first aid supplies. Glad that the elderly woman was asleep, Koge was able to search with no interruptions, soon finding an antihistamine for allergic reactions. As she read the back of the box, realization began to creep over her, like spiders prickling along her skin. “Allergic reaction… He’s allergic to… Ah damn it, the stupid painkillers!”

Koge slammed the box of weak medication back into the bin, bringing her hands up to bury her fingers in her hair out of frustration. “Shit, shit, shit! I’m so stupid. What could I give him from here that might help?”

As she stared into the bin, the frustration began to crush her confidence, ruining any chances of her making a rational decision. No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t just pick something and hope it works. What if he’s allergic to that, too?! I could have totally destroyed his inside or something by giving him those pills! He has to see a real doctor.

But how would that be possible? Bakugou isn’t fully human, there’s no way in hell that she can get him up to the house or get a doctor to go see him in the cave.

There’s no option… If he can’t go home, he’s going to have to have legs so I can help him. I’ll never talk him into that!

Starting to feel defeated, Koge put the bin of medications away before making her way back down to the beach. Jogging, she could only imagine the worst, from internal bleeding to rupturing organs, suffocating from a coughing fit or seizures. Now, she had no idea if any of that was even going to happen, but she couldn’t stop her stressed out mind from imagining it all.

Then, there was a sound. Something that couldn’t have been a part of her imagination. Or was it? A pained screaming, lost within the sounds of the waves, a voice so recognizable that it instantly sent Koge’s blood running cold. She went from jogging to running at full speed in an instant, ignoring the painful tightness of her chest brought on by panic. As she got closer to the cave, the agonized screaming had faded to loud cursing and sharp, short cries of frustration. What could be going on in there was something she refused to even take a second to comprehend, leaping over rocks and shrubbery until she breached the mouth of the cave.

“Katsuki, are you okay--”

Koge was cut short by the shock of what she was looking at, entire body frozen and cold as ice, even as a hot sweat dripped down her neck. Bakugou was still where she had left him, sitting in a pile of shimmering orange and red goop, clutching his…

Legs.

Why did he have legs.

“K-Katsuki--” This time, his pained hiss cut her off, completely ignoring her as he vigorously rubbed up and down his left shin and calf. “Fuck, fuck, fuck that hurts! Damn it!” Getting over the initial shock, Koge slowly made her way closer, swallowing the lump that had grown in her throat. “Katsuki, what happened?”

Finally acknowledging her presence, Bakugou shot a glare up towards her before focusing back down on his legs, gripping and massaging his calf. “I guess my body decided it needed to be human. Fucking defensive survival shit I can’t control.” His rubbing was interrupted by the need to cough, bringing a closed fist up to his mouth to cough into the side of it. Koge could hear the wheezing and the tightness each time he attempted to breath in, as if his airways were constricted. This immediately brought her back to the problem at hand, kneeling down beside him. “I know what’s going on with you. It’s those painkillers, you’re allergic to them. You have to see a human doctor right away.”

“What?!” Bakugou barked at her, moving his hands to rub his other leg. “I’m not doing that shit, no fucking way. I’m fine!”

“Well if your body decided to change then you’re obviously not! Don’t be stubborn about this! You already can’t hardly breathe and you have hives all over you. I bet you have a headache too.”

“One so bad I can barely see.”

“Exactly! Please let me take you up to the house. My grandma has a doctor on call for anything, I know that he’ll come up here to see you if she asks.” Koges eyes were drawn to his hands, which continued to rub and squeeze his legs. “Why are you doing that?”

“They’re fucking tingling and it hurts!”

“Your blood is working your way through them, I’m sure they need circulation. Here, lay them down flat. Now lean back for a seco-” The shriek that interrupted her was completely involuntary, her body reacting to what she saw just as instantly as her voice did. Like lightning, she spun around and covered her face, which was so on fire she was sure her nose must have begun bleeding. “Oh my god, Katsuki, put something over yourself!”

“Eh? What’s the deal?” He sounded genuinely confused, if not seriously annoyed, and Koge couldn’t believe she was about to have to explain common decency to him. “You… You can’t sit around with your penis hanging out. Just, put something over yourself, please.”

“Oh. That’s right, you humans are all sensitive to being naked. It’s just my dick.”

“Cover it up!!” 

[fuckyeahsexeducation]

Getting your IUD switched out

I got my Mirena four years ago. Right now the Mirena is approved for five years and they are currently working on approving it for more. I chose to get mine replaced a little early because my periods were starting to come back. It’s relatively common for your periods or spotting to start back up on the four or five year mark. Because I have really bad periods and experience gender dysphoria during my periods I wanted to get a new one in ASAP. 

If you’d like to read my guide to getting an IUD inserted you can read it here. The procedure for getting it taken out is very similar and many of the same recommendations still apply. I’d definitely still recommend having a buddy, although it isn’t necessarily as bad coming out as it is going in. 

At the clinic I went to they didn’t have the Mirena available, only the Liletta and Kyleena. Liletta is approved for 4 years, Kyleena for 5. They are also currently working on approving Liletta for longer so my doctor said that by the time the 4 years are up they’ll probably have it approved for longer. Despite only being recommended for Liletta, and it being a little bigger than Kyleena, is because Liletta has a higher amount of hormones that more closely resemble Mirena. Because I use the IUD to end my periods and I know the Mirena does that I was hoping to get the IUD that most closely matches it. 

Below is a detailed recount of my experience. It can get a bit graphic, if you’d like I put the main steps in bold so you can get the gist by just reading that

Once we got the preliminary pregnancy test and consultation over with I was left to take off my pants and get ready for a pelvic exam. It is important for the doctor to take a look and see if they think you may have a vaginal infection before insertion so let them know if you have had any symptoms! This is because if there is an infection while putting in the IUD there is a chance of the infection to spread to the uterus. Turns out I had a yeast infection. Because it had been so hot and muggy apparently a bunch of people had come in with yeast infections so it wasn’t a big surprise. What that meant though was I had to come back a couple weeks after I took antifungals to get rid of the infection.

A couple weeks later I went back and we were finally ready for the insertion. The doctor asked if I was okay having a student come in to observe the process. I said yes because of course I am all about that learning. Know that you should always let your doctor know if you are uncomfortable. My doctor let me know that she likes using the smaller speculums and trying to be as careful as possible. It’s a good idea to tell your doctor if you experience vaginal pain easily, if you’ve experienced any trauma, or if you’re nervous so that they can help you out. 

One thing I liked about having a student attend is that the doctor detailed everything going on. That was a fun thing for me, but I know that wouldn’t have been fun for a lot of people. The disadvantage to the student is that the doctor wanted her to try some things on me to learn which meant some things happened twice. The actual taking out and putting the IUD in was handled by the doctor though which was very good.

First the doctor and student checked on my uterus and pelvis by inserting two fingers into the vagina and pressing on various points on my belly/pelvic bone to see if there was any tenderness. 

Then the doctor inserted the speculum and located the cervix. On the student’s turn they had trouble finding it which meant they moved the speculum quite a lot and that was not pleasant. Once the doctor helped her find my cervix I breathed again. So far, not much different than a regular pelvic exam. 

After they located my cervix they inserted a device to clamp down on the cervix to hold it in place. This is what felt like a pinch. They put on the stuff to numb the cervix and waited a bit before going on. I was told later that the clamping can cause the cervix to bleed a bit, so this can cause some of the irritation you’ll feel later. 

Using the strings they were able to pull the IUD out. She showed it to me. I am sad I didn’t think to keep it. You could definitely feel the arms of the “T” come down and then the IUD slide out. It’s not exactly painful, but really weird feeling. If you’re just getting the IUD removed this is as far as you go. They unclamp your cervix and you should probably sit back and relax for a minute before standing up and going about your day.

If you’re getting a new one inserted the next step is to put a sound into the cervix. A sound is a tiny cylandrical object that helps dilate the uterus a tiny bit to help insert it. Sometimes they’ll need to use other methods to help dilate you, but sometimes that is enough. Another reason they use this is that it can go through the cervix into the uterus and it helps them measure the uterus to know where to place the IUD. I found out my uterus is 8 cm, which is perfectly average. Not gonna lie, this part was uncomfortable. The actual going in the uterus wasn’t bad, but once it reached the top of my uterus it kind of hurt and the sensation kind of spread like a wave. What sucked for me is I had to go through it twice, first the doctor did it, then the student. The student apparently didn’t go in far enough so the doctor basically told her to shove it in more and that didn’t feel good. Pretty sure I made a little sound at that point.

When they are able to get an accurate measure of the uterus they use the applicator device to put the IUD in. This is really the most painful part in my opinion, it just feels really weird and like something is definitely trying to move around in your uterus. 

After that they cut the strings that hang into the vagina so that they aren’t super long. If you find once you go home the strings are longer than you’d like you can go back and request they trim them a little more. Once you’ve had it for a year or so the strings tend to curl around your cervix out of the way.

This time around I knew what to expect and I stayed laying down. The doctors let me be for a while to let me lay down a bit then with their help sit up. I sat for a while before eventually cleaning up, getting dressed, and sitting back down again. I wore loose pants but where it lay against my belly still hurt. Definitely if you can, wear a dress. Had to hold the seat belt away from my belly while riding home too. Just take it easy and don’t plan to do anything strenuous for a day after. I spotted a bit for a day and I’m still a little sore but it is definitely worth it!

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 21

“Hmm?”

The bulletin board area in the town square feels too calm today. It seems like there are far fewer adventurers taking up quests. For some reason, the weather’s been getting more oppressive day by day. You could say it’s even driving people out of this village. The inn’s proprietress is in a poorer state than ever and her cough getting worse.

‘Aye, certainly… there is a remarkably smaller presence of adventurers.’

Veno agrees with me. So it wasn’t just me then.

‘Moreover, there are more people coughing too.’

Hmm… maybe they’ve all gone to a faraway dungeon or something. I go check the bulletin board, but there’s still quite a few requests up. There really are fewer adventurers out and about…

The apothecary hasn’t posted anything on the board for the past few days either. When I went over to be nosy, I found Arleaf’s dad in the back of the store, making some kind of potion. Perhaps he got all the ingredients he needed from me.

I know Arleaf just got back too. Maybe her dad sent her away again to harvest herbs. If not, I would’ve liked to invite her to come adventuring with me. I wonder what she’d think of Muu.

‘I am not impressed with you showing off Muu.’

I didn’t say I was gonna show it off. I just wanted them to get along is all. I mean, I came to this fantasy world and was told that I had people after my head. Arleaf’s just a breath of fresh air. But I’ll admit, it’s every guy’s dream to see a cute girl play with their pets.

‘Honestly… I am appalled and speechless.’ “I could be worse!” “Muu?”

Well…  this village wasn’t really lively and there weren’t that many quests to begin with. Guess there are off days too, eh? Since I had the time, I replenished my poison stock and made more varieties. I even hunted for a bit before I went home and chilled. Night fell. Muu and I were tending to our weapons when there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?”

Is that the proprietress? I answer the door. There Arleaf stands with a troubled expression on her face.

“Arleaf? What’s wrong?” “Sorry for visiting so late, Yukihisa.”

I invite her in.

“Something you need to talk to me about? My room’s a bit barebones but come in if you’d like.” “Oh. Thanks.” “Mu?”

Upon seeing Arleaf, Muu nods to greet her.

“Good evening.” “Mu.” “I have heard from my father. This must be the homunculus that you have created, Yukihisa.” “Oh, uhh, yeah. Its name is Muu.”

News of Muu spread quick. Arleaf looks at Muu in the eyes, sits down in front of it, and holds her hand out.

“My name is Arleaf. I’m an acquaintance of Yukihisa’s.”

Oof. Hearing “acquaintance” hurts a little. Yeah. We’re just acquaintances. I get it. Well… it’s not like we got to know each other well. We’ve only chatted for a bit on my first day here, so we’re only at this stage.

“Arleaf, you were out trading with nearby villages, right?” “That is right. I was out delivering medicines my father had made… and I was also purchasing ingredients needed to make them too.” “What’s up then?”

Objectively, her and I are just acquaintances. I’m quite a bit older than her too. She doesn’t really have much of a reason to visit me in my room. If she had a request for me, she could tell the proprietress to pass on the message. But to visit me in person? I can’t think of any reason for her to.

“Right… the truth is that I have something I need to ask.”

Something you need to ask? What’s that?

‘Perhaps she has found out our true identities. We must take care of her and escape at once.’

You’re jumping to conclusions. Veno begins detecting presence of anyone possibly nearby. As he does that, he pings and highlights every single person close to us. Cut that out already.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a poisonous herb called Red Deathfire on you, would you? An urgent need for it arose… I have heard from my father that you venture deep into the swamplands and so I dropped by unannounced.”

Arleaf has a sullen expression on her face.

“Huh?”

Red Deathfire? Do I have any of that?

‘Aye, you do have Red Deathfire. It is the herb that you found in the dungeon, is it not?’ “I do have some, but…” “I-In that case, please sell it to me! However much money you ask for!” “Uhh… it’s a pretty dangerous plant, you know? Could you at least tell me how you’ll use it?”

In any case, it’s always the apothecary buying up and using these shady herbs. No matter how much of a good person Arleaf may seem to be, I can’t just hand over these toxic herbs over so easily. If it’s my fault that anything bad happens, we’ll be in a world of hurt.

“As you adventurers know already, the villages around here are afflicted by an epidemic and the disease is only growing.” “Huh?!”

Now that you mention it, the proprietress has been hacking her lungs up for a couple of days now. I thought it was a cold, but… I guess even the adventurers are trying to run away from it. That’s why it was so quiet today.

“We have been trying our best to make enough medicine, but we have run out of the necessary materials… and… my mother, she’s…”

Arleaf’s hands are clenched tight, trembling. She was merely putting on a brave face earlier. It sounds like her mom came down with the epidemic. Her dad is frantically compounding more medicine, but I guess he doesn’t have enough ingredients. Is that why she went out to buy and sell with the other villages? Perhaps she needed to urgently buy medicine to fight this disease.

“Even though she looked fine three days ago…” “She suddenly got worse…” “I assume the proprietress of this inn caught the same disease?”

… the proprietress did get sicker recently. It was so bad for her, she even needed Muu to help out around the inn.

“… yes. This area is usually often plagued by illnesses, but rarely is it this bad.”

Hmm…

“I understand. I’ll provide you with some Red Deathfire, but is that going to save everyone?”

Her expression doesn’t get any better after hearing my question.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible. My father says people will get better when they do. The most they can do is to leave it up to the gods.”

She answers worriedly. Veno, Red Deathfire really can be made into medicine, right?

‘Ahh, it may be a dangerous herb, but if properly handled, it can be turned into potions. Nothing the girl said is wrong.’

That’s a relief. Then I have no good reason to say no to her.

“I might have other herbs you may need as well. Can I lend a hand?”

Even with everything I said about being ready to leave, I’ve made this village my base of operations for a while now. Not that I have a particular attachment to it or anything, but everybody so far has been nice to me. I hope that none of them succumb to this disease. Arleaf’s dad is able to make the medicine as long as he’s got the ingredients, so I’ll just hang around in case he needs anything else from me. Or maybe I should go out and harvest some more.

“But…” “Besides getting me a good rate for this room, you’ve helped me out lots already. Can’t I?” “… okay.”

I get up from my seat and get ready to head out.

“Right now’s a good time, right?” “Yes. Then please come with me. I’ll try asking my father.” “Mu!”

We made our way to Arleaf’s home posthaste.

It’s the same store as usual, but… it’s eerily quiet. I don’t hear the sounds of Arleaf’s dad making medicine. Taking a break maybe? Arleaf puts a frown on her face and hurries to the back of the store.

“Father?!”

I follow behind Arleaf to find her dad collapsed on the ground face-up. Various ingredients lie scattered, including the marphina I’ve brought over.

‘He was saying he would prepare himself for the sickness… I see. Certainly, marphina would serve well in this compound. It should soothe even particularly bad symptoms.’ “Father! Are you alright?!”

Arleaf rushes over to carry him up.

“Ah, ahh… that you, Arleaf? Cough, cough. I d-didn’t expect the illness to get to me. Sorry, but could you get me up? I’ve gotta hurry and mix more medicine.” “B-But…” “If the doctor goes down first, there’ll be no one to save the village. Cough…”

His wheezy breathing seems to aggravate his cough, but he returns to work with a determined look on his face. He finally notices me and looks up.

“Ahh, Cohgray.” “I might have some ingredients that would be of use to you, so I invited myself along.” “That right? Thanks for that. Arleaf’s still fine, so I’ll get her to pay you afterwards, if that’s fine with you.” “Th-That’s fine. Here, I heard you needed this.”

I brought out the Red Deathfire wrapped in cloth and handed it over to Arleaf’s dad.

“Ahh… with this, I can make the medicine. It… should be effective… on Bloodflower.” ‘… Bloodflower?’

Hearing the name, Veno responded. You know something about it?

‘All humans are susceptible to this infamous contagious disease. Once acquired, the patient will develop a flower-like bruise on their chest. The petals on the flower will disappear one by one. And when all petals go, so too shall the patient. This Blossomfall, as some may call it, has a high-mortality rate.’

Whoa, hey. Contagious? This ain’t a joke! Having been born and raised in Japan, I’ve never faced any major infectious diseases, but I know I’m in a real dangerous situation right now.

‘Aye, its infection rate is high, although it takes quite some time to succumb to Bloodflower. Only until one develop any visible symptoms is it painful and hard to treat. Some say it is a flower of blood that tells your death.’

So, it doesn’t visibly appear until the disease really gets to you.

‘This is, after all, a village near a swamp where miasma often hazes over. It is not unusual to have a few infected. With the right medicine, one can recover surprisingly quickly from it. You need not worry.’

How about dragons?

‘So what if I catch this?’

Guess you’ll be fine. Well, since you’re a Poison Dragon, this kinda stuff can’t really affect you, right?

‘It is not out of the realm of possibility for me to fall ill, but I do not acquire diseases. Truth be told, I am quite interested whether you will or not. It is a question of life or death, after all.’

Luckily, I don’t show any signs of having Bloodflower yet. Maybe I haven’t even caught it yet. Even if I do have it, I have no choice but to hope Poison Absorption to work.

‘In that case, it would not be possible for you to acquire this disease.’

…? How do you know?

‘That is because—’

As Veno was just about to explain it to me, Muu calls out in a worried tone.

“Muuu…”

This must be an urgent matter. Muu looks up towards me.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread on Novel Updates) (please support me on Patreon or Paypal)

[clairekatswritingcorner]

What Is Love?

Word Count: 1,538

Summary: Although it’s not a very familiar concept to him, love has appeared to Ug in various and recognizable forms throughout his travels across the cosmos. He’s sure he’s never experienced it himself, but suspects that his new favorite human acquaintance may be changing that. A very serious and possibly life altering revelation, who can he truly confide in to discover the answers he needs?

*Author’s Note*: Another commission for @bad-blue-moon-rising!! I love this ship so much!! Ug is such a cool character, and I adored getting to write him. His dynamic with Alexys’s self insert is really lovely and endearing, and I tried to capture that the best I could in this piece. I hope you enjoy!

“Alexys, what is love?”

It was certainly one of the most surprising questions she’d ever had directed at her, and definitely not the type she was prepared for. Sitting together while she was at the Brown’s for another round of babysitting, Alexys wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Should she just look up the dictionary definition for him? Should she give him an example and risk letting more information slide than she intended? Should she just cut to the chase and tell him the truth, putting herself in a situation that could fall apart at any moment?

She wasn’t sure if it would actually fall apart, but she didn’t want to take the chance. Ug meant too much to her, and that was a factor that was working against her. The first thought that came to mind the moment he’d uttered such an inquiry was him. A collage of memories of the time they’d spent together, from their first meeting to the moment they were in right now, sitting side by side on the couch during this pleasant, normal afternoon.

But things weren’t normal anymore; at least, they didn’t feel that way. Not to Alexys. Not after a question like that was laid on the table. She was confident Ug didn’t realize the gravity of the subject he was invoking; that was why he’d asked in the first place. He’d dropped a bombshell he had no way of knowing had any fire power, but it was doing a fine job bombarding Alexys. She wished he’d directed the question at anyone else, anyone but the girl who happened to be harboring undeniably significant, undeniably real feelings for him.

“What made you think about that?” Maybe if she uncovered the reason, she’d be able to deliver her answer in a way that benefitted both of them better than all the ways her thoughts were currently tangled up in. “It just seems like a pretty random question.”

Now Ug was the one who wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t want to admit the true source of his curiosity, because he needed to know the answer before he revealed it to her. It was because he’d been thinking about it a lot, about what love meant to humans, what it felt like, how it worked. It was a peculiar word to an alien like him, even considering how much he’d managed to assimilate into human society by now.

Recently, something had been mounting inside of him, starting in his heart and infecting his entire body until he was covered in a warm, tingly sensation from head to toe. It was a sensation he didn’t understand, but he’d heard that sometimes humans felt similar symptoms when they were wrapped up in something called “love.” And who could give him a better answer than another human, possibly even one that had experienced the very thing he was trying to comprehend.

“It’s just something I’m not familiar with. At least, not from a human perspective. But I’ve heard it being mentioned, heard it brought up in conversation every now and again. Both in real life and on TV. And I just got curious about it. It’s not wrong of me to ask, is it?”

“Hm? Oh, no, of course not.” She was the one who felt like she going to mess up at any moment. She had to be careful not to make any missteps, to keep things from slipping through her fingers. “Uh, let me think…”

Ug was content to give her all the time she needed, but he couldn’t help feeling a little anxious about the answer she was going to give. What if it turned out she loved someone else? What if it turned out she wasn’t really interested in love at all? He wouldn’t force her to do anything, to be anyone she didn’t want to be, of course. He would just have to adapt to the situation, to her terms, and manage his own emotions to the best of his ability. She’d never asked him to fall in love with her, it had just happened. Naturally, easily, pleasantly…even if she didn’t or couldn’t return them, Ug was determined to never let these feelings go.

It was love at first sight for her. The fateful encounter on that wild day when no one really knew what was going on, what was going to happen. He’d kind of ended up saving her then, he and his bounty hunter companion. Humanity had these two alien trackers to thank for saving them all from being tormented by the relentless Crites that had discreetly invaded the planet. It was like they were heroes sent by the cosmos, guardians of justice and life that had made it to the scene of the crime just in the nick of time. Stealing the show and stealing Alexys’s heart…as cheesy as it sounds, that’s what it felt like to her.

Him deciding to stay here was the real dream come true. He and his partner had taken quite a liking to Earth, at least that was the reasoning they gave, and none of the people around them had any objections to their plan. They’d all grown quite fond of the two alien shapeshifters, and Alexys had given her whole lovesick heart to one of them without even realizing she’d done so in the first place.

She felt a connection, a bond, an attraction…sure, part of it probably had to do with the face he’d chosen to adopt as his essentially permanent appearance while he was residing on Earth. But more than that, she’d fallen in love with his personality, his chivalry, the person he was beneath all the smoke and mirrors. Every new aspect of him she discovered only endeared him to her more, which admittedly scared her a little. What was she going to do if he ever decided to leave and return to his home planet? What was she going to do if something happened to him during one of his bounty hunting missions? What was she going to do if she kept loving him this intensely, this sincerely, but the only option left to her was to keep such feelings locked away deep in her heart?

“Love is a feeling.” Wow, what a stellar opening. It was a true statement, albeit a weak one. It was the best she could muster in the midst of trying to wrangle her own finicky emotions. “But it’s a complicated one. You ask what it is, but…I’m not sure I know. There are a lot of people that don’t know, that have spent their whole lives trying to figure it out. Some people never do. And other people get it dropped into their lap without even having to go looking for it. Whether it ends up being successful or not is an entirely different story, but…

“Love is probably what you’d call caring for someone else. You can love your parents, your siblings, your friends, and strangers all at the same time, and all in different ways. Caring for someone can be literally taking care of them, checking on them to make sure they’re doing alright. Or it can be doing something special for someone, like remembering an anniversary or birthday and planning a celebration to let that person know how important they are to you. It can even involve physical displays like hugging, and touching, and kissing.”

Her hands were shaking a little bit, and she started twirling her hair in order to occupy them. Ug examined her with gentle eyes, his own feelings starting to build up like a pipe under pressure. Physical intimacy, emotional intimacy, putting others before yourself. They were all things Ug had thought about before, some of which he’d even experienced with others of his own species for various reasons and in various ways. But now, he knew he wanted to do most, if not all of those things, with Alexys. He treasured her, and he wanted to be able to show her that. She meant the world to him, serving as a major part of the reason he’d opted out of returning to his home planet. He didn’t want to live a cosmos away from her—sometimes, even just sitting side by side like this felt too excruciatingly far apart.

“That does sound fairly complicated,” he agreed, shifting closer to her with a subtlety he hoped she didn’t notice. “But it also sounds quite worth the trouble in the long run. I mean, to have someone that cares about you like that, that you can rely on for things like support and comfort. Those all sound like indispensable benefits.”

“The hardest thing about love is the feeling,” Alexys continued, relying more and more on the rhythmic motion of her hair twirling to keep calm. “Experiencing it can be both a blessing and a curse.”

“But when it’s a blessing, it’s one of the best things in the world,” Ug added his assessment, and both of their eyes flickered to one another. In this instance, things felt like a curse. But there was still hope. Maybe one day they would finally manage to find the blessing of such a feeling in one another.

[directionlessbuthappy]

Dawn of the Draugr: p1

In a pre-apocalyptic world, there is Elyse, a 21 year old woman who was going to community college in her small town in Northern California, working on biology and medicine courses. Doing what young adults are expected to do at her age. But her future spirals into uncertainty with a pandemic spreading across humanity. An illness which infects and shuts down the body, reanimating the brain and turning the person into something only seen in repetitive shitty movies and your nightmares. Being on her own, Elyse would have to lose her morality or sanity to survive. Maybe both. However, she may be able to keep them now that she’s found Alex Lothbrok and his brothers. Or, she may lose it even faster…

Modern AU: Alex H. Anderson x Reader 

Warnings: graphic violence, language, blood, death

Note: I kept the last name Lothbrok for the brothers to distinguish characters vs reality. I doubt they are anything like the characters (based on them for visual purposes) I’m writing, so I prefer to add an element of unrealism here to reiterate this as fiction. Cheers xo

Tagged: @missrobyn81

It wasn't a normal day.

Everyone likes to think when the world ends, it'll start out totally normal, and you'll have no idea what's happening or whats coming. You won't see it until its too late. People sell it that way for drama, for TV shows and the movies, but its not real. The truth is, you do see it. The warning signs are everywhere, but without someone telling you to run, you aren't sure if you should. People are like sheep; they don't know what to do without instruction. When the epidemic spread from South America and Asia, nobody here was worried. We had central America in our path, and a whole ocean separating us from Japan. It seemed like the black plague at first; killed massive amounts of people over the last two years. But since there were minimal cases of it here in the US, nobody was worried. 

For a while.

My family was split; my mom and I were alone most of my life. She married a man who already had two kids. I was an adult at that point, indifferent to the pairing but still living at home. Going to community college. Everything seemed normal despite everything we were seeing on the internet and on TV. Coverage of the epidemic was getting less and less clear as more people were panicking and packing up their things. Our whole neighborhood moved out in a week. Northern California felt safe enough, we hadn't had any sightings/cases of epidemic here. There was some in Texas, and Arizona...

One day after a phone call, my mom told me she was going with her husband to go get his kids. It was their week to visit us, and their mom wasn't comfortable driving on the roads with how crazy it was getting out there in Washington state, so my mom and her husband planned to go get them. I was in denial, in a way...not really considering how bad it was yet. it felt eerie, being home alone after that. Our little three bedroom, one story house on Sweedland Way felt like a mansion while I waited for my mom to come home. I'd stopped going to school; we'd got an email that class was out due to teacher shortages. Out, indefinitely. I remember when I got my first taste that it was all real, not some widespread panic about the cold.

I was sitting in the living room, checking through a few websites that hadn't posted in over a week. I was studying animal medicine in college (when I was still going) so I understood a lot of technical jargon when reading on the epidemic. All the articles and different notes on the contagion were unfinished; even Wikipedia was useless in explaining what it was. Most researchers first found it in South America, comparing the disease to a virus hiding behind the symptoms of bacterial infection...making it less concerning in its early stages. Researchers didn't catch on until about 6 months in, when more hospital staff were infected verses healthy. Infection was mostly caused by saliva, whether its ingested, gets in your eyes, or most commonly seen in the reports I found...you get bit. Like a rabies virus on cocaine, the disease ravages your system and fries pretty much everything...except your spinal cord and your motor function. The nervous system was preserved by the disease and regenerated itself; the body would be able to function, move, and respond to things like noise. But otherwise...

I didn't like to entertain the idea the dead could come back to life. That wasn't true, it was science fiction bullshit. Granted, I loved cheesy movies where the dead would rise, but that was all they were. Movies. If anything, these sick people were just very sick...maybe it was a new type of cancer, that was why it scared people so much.

I was wrong.

...

"See the sight lined up to the chest?"

"Yeah..."

"Shoot it."

"But I need to hit the head."

"I know Elyse. Take the shot."

I swallowed and pulled the trigger. The gun popped against my chest like a light bump, and the bullet went straight through the target's "neck." I was surprised.

"It aims high!"

"Bingo," Alex replied. "Its the only red sight we have. Jordan can't get the tilt quite right but it still works eh? Now aim at the neck."

I do so, trusting his word now more than before. I squeezed and the gun pops; the bullet hole in my target's head was clear. With a giddy squeal, I aimed to take another shot, but missed. Alex grinned from behind me, I knew this because when I turned he was already doing it. 

"Nice shot."

"Shut up," I replied, faintly hurt. He chuckled and outstretched his arm for the gun. I handed it over, safety on.

"Wanna try with the handguns?"

"Actually..." I whined. Holding my arm up to show off the bruise blooming on my tricep, Alex frowned slightly. "Can we take a break?"

"Sure punkin," he shrugged. I still took the time to roll my eyes at him before sitting down on a hay bail. Our little training field wasn't too far away from the house; Jordan and Marco could still see us from the second floor's porch. We were safe, mostly. The treeline that surrounded the house on the hill made me the most nervous, especially at night. Jordan called them "fight nights" for fun, but he was good at making others feel better. I could see right through it. Just like I could see them coming through the treeline every other night.

Sometimes it was just one, sometimes a pack of them. They traveled in groups pretty often. They're always so listless, walking like they were drunk and heavy and yet they weren't slow in their pace. They'd drag their feet, and although they were responsive to sound, it didn't seem like they understood anything. From the material I've read and studied in the last couple months the disease is as unpredictable as its victims. Sometimes you'd die in a week...sometimes it only took 24 hours. But if you got bit at all, you were fucked no matter how long it takes to die.

"Jordan's still not worried about the ammo?"

Alex shrugged, taking a mag and shoving it into the cartridge of his 47. "We have enough to get us through a month of assaults. You and Marco are the only ones worried."

"We have enough for a month of assaults with automatics, Alex. Our handguns are limited. They're attracted to noise, and we can't haul ass with ten pound metal death machines on our shoulders!"

"We'll be fine. If you're really that worried, go down the hunt shop on West 10th. They'll have something," he replied coily. I scowled at him.

"That's not funny."

"Was I laughing?"

"Alex!" I snarled. He had the sense to look a little upset, sighing once he realized he'd actually upset me.

"I'm kidding Lees," he muttered. "I'll go with you tomorrow. Would that make you happy?"

"Are you being sarcastic again?" I replied warily, buttoning my flannel up and down with the same button. Alex took a few shots, turning the head of one of our dummies into swiss cheese. He put so many holes in it the head actually fell off. It made us both chuckle.

"Do you want me to go on my own?"

"No!" I squeaked instantly. Alex grinned and turned his back to me, lining up the sight of his automatic again. The kid was growing on me...

[scripttorture]

Any ideas on what might happen to a captured British agent in Germany ca. WW1? She is female, and being interrogated rather than put on trial. She’s not meant to be killed at least for a while as she is considered an asset. The interrogation won’t work, and she won’t give up any info. She also does escape with the help of someone inside, so retaining some physical capacity to move pretty fast would be significant. Thanks!

Thisis a really good amount of information thank you. :)

Ihave less information on German practices during World War 1 so thisone took a little bit of reading. In fact I didn’t manage to findanything German from this period (though I think Cobain covers British torture during this period in Cruel Britannia). What I’ve got is bits and piecesfrom either side. Between that and your criteria I think we can workout something that fits. :)

Rejalireferences a book on the Weimar Republic that you might find useful.I haven’t read it myself. TheBerlin Police Force in the Weimar Republicby L Hsi-Huey, 1970 University of California Press.

I’vefound references to clean beating and ‘sweating’ in the periodbetween the wars. This was in a policing context rather than amilitary one.

Sweatingin this context means a combination of sleep deprivation, sometimesrestraint torture and temperature torture. I’ve mostly heard of itused in policing contexts. It’s- putting a suspect in a chair witha big bright light in their eyes and keeping them there for over 12hours. Sometimes suspects were restrained, which causes additionalpain and injury. ‘Interrogators’ were often changed so that theyremained fully rested. Suspects were usually denied food, water andbathroom breaks. Rooms were usually small. So the lights would heatup the room very quickly making everything uncomfortably hot.

Itseems(going by frequency of reports) to have been more common in Americanpolicing then in Germany during the Weimar government. From what Ican tell there seems to have been a crack down on police tortureduring the Weimar period. A couple of my sources have Nazi torturerscommenting on that, that the Weimar government ‘didn’t allow’things that became common practice later.

Oneuseful reference I’ve found from the second world war is to use ofa ‘sweat box’. This a cell so small that it’s essentially abox. Now the reason I think that could be relevant to you is becausethese were solid built structures. It could certainly have beenspecially built closer to the time, but it could also have been anolder structure that was never disassembled. They are just very verysmall rooms and can be put to a great many innocent uses. It's easierto take locks off doors then it is to bulldoze walls.

Goingback muchlater, Germany was one of the first European countries to abolishcorporal punishment (whipping and obvious beating) in the military(1872).

Theyreplaced it with stress positions. The only description I have is forsomething called ‘das Anbinden’. The translation I have for thatis ‘tying up’.

Thevictim was tied with their back to a fixed object, like a tree orpole. It was forced standing, with both feet flat on the ground. Sofar as I can tell the victim’s hands weren’tabove their head, and the reference to using trees makes it seemunlikely their arms were spread as in British military stresspositions. I’m guessing a little here but it seems most likely fromthe descriptions I have that the victims were tied with their handsbehind their backs.

That’swhat I’ve found that I think could fit your scenario. None of itcomes from the exact time period but these techniques were all usedin Germany either a few decades before or a few decades after. It’sa grab-bag mix of police torture and military torture rather thanspecific to the intelligence services. But if Germany fit the generalpattern at this time then there would have been a lot of overlapbetween the torture techniques used in all those groups.

They’realso all ‘clean’ tortures. They don’t necessarily leave obviousexternal marks.

Fromthe point of view of an intelligence agency that could be useful. Itprovides a degree of ‘plausible’ deniability, a way for them todismiss any future claims of mistreatment.

Moreon that here.

Generallytorturers tend to use a combination of techniques rather thansticking to just one. I tend to suggest 3-4 techniques and this justabout fits that range. The timings would be important here though.

Theusual maximum time a victim is kept in a stress position is about 48hours. That’s because after that more victims start dying.

Stresspositions kill by causing the muscles to break down under pressure.As more and more muscles die they release proteins into thebloodstream and this eventually builds to a level the kidneys can’thandle. The kidneys fail and the victim dies.

Priorto that- These are incredibly painful. It’s a sort of deep muscularache which, in this case, is likely to affect just about every partof the body. The break down of muscles also releases a lot of fluidwhich builds up in the extremities. In a standing stress position theankles can swell to twice their size in 24 hours. They take on abruised, tend appearance, hurt a lot and the skin can stretch so muchit ‘pops’ forming ulcers.

Bearin mind that victims usually aren’t allowed to use the bathroom andulcers are therefore a potential source of infection.

Sweatboxes can have a similar effect ornot depending on the dimensions of the box and the person. Whenvictims have a greater range of movement the muscles aren’t underthe same kind of permanent strain. It’s still extremely painful butless likely to be life threatening in 48 hours.

Somesweat boxes looked like cupboards for cleaning equipment, a smallnarrow space someone could stand in without being able to comfortablysit. Some were more like boxes that forced someone into a crouch,where they couldn’t lie down flat or stand up.

Theycould all have significant problems with air flow and temperaturecontrol. Depending on the placement in the building they were oftenextremely hot or cold. Which was another form of temperature tortureto subject the victim too. Poor air circulation sometimes meantvictims passed out or flat out suffocated.

Iwouldn’t suggest having the character in a sweat box for more than24 hours.

Beaware that beating, stress positions and sweat boxes are all damagingthe muscles. So they’re all contributing to the possibility ofkidney failure.  Giving the character periods to rest and recover isabsolutely essential to her survival.

AndI think that might be the best way to approach her escape; timing itso it’s right at the end of a longer recovery period. Perhaps aslong as 24 hours.

Ifshe’d been held for a week or so at that point, had been beaten,sweated, had been in a stress position for 48 hours, had been in asweat box for 24, with recovery periods- then I’d expect hermovement and reaction times to still be effected. She would not be ontop form. But, so long as she hadn’t been beaten to the point offractures, and had had 24 hours to sleep and eat and drink- Then Ithink she’d be able to walk and run. She might have the occasionalstruggle with balance. Her feet might be numb. She wouldn’t be asfast or coordinated as normal and she’d be able to notice that. ButI think she’d be able to do what you’d need her to do.

Lookingback over this I think the only thing I haven’t talked about muchis the effects of sleep deprivation in sweating. Again it’spainful. It’s also incredibly disorientating. It’s difficult toconcentrate, follow sentences and think clearly. People tend tobecome much more emotional and bursting into tears is pretty common.

Hallucinationsare also quite common. Combined with the bright light I think shadowyshapes and halos seem very possible.

Keepin mind that in a hot confined space dehydration is also at playhere. Which could be effecting her vision, causing head aches, lightheadedness and adding to the delirious feeling sleep deprivation iscausing.

Beyondthat-

Rememberto show the psychological effect this has on her in the long term.And remember that some of those symptoms can have profound physicaleffects which weren’t entirely understood at the time.

She’sunlikely to be diagnosed with ‘shell shock’ simply because she’sa woman. But her expressions of distress might be seen as more‘socially acceptable’ in some sense because of her gender.Physical symptoms such as shaking, nausea, difficulty eating, anyeffect on sexual desire, panic attacks and pain, could all be treatedas purelyphysical.

Thatdoesn’t mean she’d be without a support network or cut off fromhelp. Just that the kind of help she’s offered would look verydifferent to what’s on offer today.

Asa final note, if you’ve got the time you might want to read TheUnpleasantness at the Bellona Clubby Dorothy L Sayers. It was written in 1928 and deals with mentalillness at several points. It could serve as some inspiration for howto handle the character’s mental health problems in a periodsetting.

Ihope that helps. :)

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