#The new ankle braces do not have a joint at the ankle

[littlest-bugz]

I got my new ankle braces today :D

They removed my ankle privileges :(

[arecaceae175]

For Want Of Rest: Ch. 4

FAN JOY JULY!

Fic Summary: Five times Sky falls asleep somewhere that isn’t a bed plus one time they all do. Or, Sky struggles to manage his disabilities, then the chain has a conversation about accessibility and accommodations.

Fan Joy July! Each chapter is inspired a few amazing art pieces of Sleepy Sky <3. There are plenty more chapters and art inspirations to come :D

Chapter Summary: Sky struggles to stay awake as the chain travels. 1.3k, angst and hurt/comfort. Also Legend decided to use she/her pronouns in this one, apparently. Good for her

Art pieces:

Sky snoozing by @narsh-poptarts Sky and Wars napping by @sraksha

My favorite thing about narsh-poptarts's art is how much the pose mimics the one in the game. Even later in life, blorbo is still the same eepy blorbo. I also think the pose is cool and it looks hard to draw!

Sraksha's art is always amazing. It's such a distinct, soft style that is perfect for two blorbos napping. I love how Warriors is smiling in the second panel. He is very proud of himself for helping his brother be comfy <3

Chapter warnings: could be read as dissociation, but is intended to be blorbo being soooo fucking tired. Also Sky continues to be an unreliable narrator with low self esteem and internalized ableism (directed towards himself, not others)

“You good, Sky?”

Sky held back a sigh and forced a small smile instead. Ever since they found him passed out beneath the tree, one of the other heroes was never far from Sky. He was glad he was used to living in close quarters on Skyloft and used to Groose’s anxious clinginess; some of the others surely would’ve snapped by now. Every time he felt frustration bubbling at his family’s overbearing concern, he had to remind himself that he was thankful they cared so much.

Legend was watching him with thinly veiled concern. Against his will, Sky’s eyes darted to the braces on Legend’s knees and the compression gloves on her hands. Sky felt the burn of shame. He could ignore the ache in his joints and the fatigue dragging him down. He didn’t want to be the one to slow down the group. 

“I can keep going,” Sky said. 

“Not what I asked.”

Sky felt the tips of his ears go pink. “I’m okay. Are you? Do you need a break?”

“If I need a break, I’ll ask for one,” Legend said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at Sky. 

Sky shrugged and turned away. A break would be nice, but he didn’t need one. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was still moving. As long as he wasn’t assigned to a watch shift tonight, and they made it to a place to stop early in the day tomorrow, it would be fine. He could handle it.

Legend’s stare weighed on Sky’s shoulder for another moment, before Sky heard her huff and stomp away. Disappointment twinged in Sky’s chest, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His gaze went back to his feet and he tried to let himself zone out, just barely watching for hazards he could trip on. It was easier than focusing on the pain in his hips or knees or back or feet or head or the one weird, sharp twinge in his ankle— that was new, what was that about?

It must have worked, because next thing he knew, Four’s stopped feet appeared in his view. Sky barely scrambled to a stop before he ran into Four, and he still had to put a hand on Four’s shoulder to steady himself. He muttered an apology as he took a step back. Four smiled and waved it away. 

Sky glanced around. They were still in the woods— which did not make Sky want to cry, not at all. The path ahead was split into three forks. Wild, Time, and Twilight were crowded around a broken signpost trying to make sense of the directions. 

Pain slammed into him with full force. His legs were shaking minutely. Sky felt himself sway, and he desperately looked around for the nearest tree to discreetly lean against. Things always felt worse just standing. If they were going to be here for more than a few more seconds, Sky really needed to find a spot to rest. 

“Hey,” Legend said quietly. 

Sky looked at her in surprise. She inclined her head towards Sky’s left and raised her eyebrows. Sky followed her gaze and saw a tree stump partially hidden from Sky’s view. Sky felt himself sag with relief and immediately went for the stump. He collapsed on top of it with less grace than he would like to admit. Against his will, his eyes slid shut immediately. He crossed his arms and clenched his fists into the fabric of his sleeves as he breathed through the wave of pain in his hips and back with the new pressure. 

The voices of the others faded into background noise as Sky began slipping into a light doze. Sky could still hear the words, but he didn’t put much effort into processing them. Someone would get him when they needed to move again. 

A voice rose louder than the others. “Um, guys?” 

Sky startled, ever so slightly. Sky knew he should probably open his eyes to see what the problem was, but he couldn’t muster the energy. There was a span of silence.

“Is this a safe place to make camp?” 

“Fresh monster tracks.”

Another pause. The voices faded into a buzz. 

“Sky.”

Sky jolted, then winced as his back twinged. He rubbed his dry eyes. “Hm?”

Hyrule smiled apologetically and held out a hand. “We’re moving on.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Sky stifled a yawn as he took Hyrule’s offered hand and let the traveler pull him to his feet. “Thanks.”

Hyrule’s smile widened. “‘Course.”

As they started to walk again, Sky tried to focus on anything besides his body. He looked around the path and noticed a hero was missing.

“Where’s Twilight?” Sky asked. 

“Scouting ahead,” Hyrule said. His ears twitched, and wasn’t looking at Sky. If Sky had any energy, he would’ve pressed. His thoughts were too heavy for that, so Sky just hummed a reply. 

An amount of time passed. Sky didn’t know how much. Staying upright and putting one foot in front of the other was taking all his concentration. An amount of time passed, and then Twilight was jogging down the path towards them. 

“There’s a cave close. A few monsters outside, but it don’t look too deep. We can clear it,” Twilight said. 

Sky frowned. His accent was thicker than usual. That usually meant he was tired, hurt, or stressed. 

“It’s a tight fit, though,” Twilight continued. 

“We’ll split up,” Time said. “Legend?”

Legend shook his head. “I’d rather keep moving.”

“I can stay,” Warriors said.

“Um.” Sky cleared his throat. His ears pinned themselves to his head as Sky grabbed his sailcloth to fiddle with it. “I don’t think I would be the most helpful right now.”

Warriors, with clear movements in Sky’s line of sight, patted Sky’s shoulder. “We’ll stay back.”

“I’ll stay, too. I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Four said, tapping his temple lightly with one finger. 

“Come on, then. It’s close,” Twilight said. 

“Stay safe,” Warriors called as the group left. 

Sky’s eyes burned, both with forming tears and the dryness of exhaustion. He hated feeling like he let the others down. He hated being too slow. 

Sky stepped far enough to be off the path and collapsed in a heap against a rock. He curled his sailcloth around himself and let his eyes slide shut, then let his head fall against the rock. His entire body throbbed. 

“Do you need anything for the headache?” Warriors asked. 

“No, it’s not bad. More pressure than pain, really. I’ll stand watch if you want to…” Four trailed off.

Sky’s neck protested the angle with sharp pains. He huffed a watery breath of frustration and dragged an arm up to rest between his head and the rock. 

Leaves crunched as footsteps approached. 

“Sky?” Warriors asked softly. His voice was closer than Sky expected. He dragged his eyes open and saw Warriors kneeling beside him. 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to lean on me? It’ll be more comfortable than the rock.”

Sky briefly considered protesting, but exhaustion and pain won over. He nodded wordlessly and pushed himself off the rock just a bit. Warriors smiled and settled against the rock just behind Sky with his head pillowed on his hands.

“Touch is okay?” Sky had to check.

Warriors smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Here.”

Warriors gently guided Sky to lean back against his side. With the way he had his arms up, Sky’s head fit securely on his shoulder. Sky scooted until his back was fully supported and extended his sharply aching knee. He wanted to thank Warriors, but he couldn’t find the energy to open his mouth. 

Sky’s eyes slid shut as the aching in his body settled. He’d be sure to thank Warriors tomorrow.

Endnotes: By the way, in case any of the implied stuff wasn’t clear: when Legend left Sky, she went up to Time and Wild and said “Birdbrain needs a break. Don’t make it obvious.” And then when Sky’s on the stump, they’re trying to figure out if they can stop and rest because Sky is clearly having a horrible time. Wolfie is sent to scout for the nearest place to rest, even though they won’t make it to wherever they were going. And they split up on purpose so Sky doesn’t have to fight. There is plenty of room at the cave. Sky doesn’t know any of that though. Blorbos :)

[kingofthe-egirls]

I just read of the the brothel au and first of all, I absolutely love all of it!! Second, I understand if you’re not taking requests but I’d love to see more Sanji or Zoro in the brothel au, maybe Sanji with a sugar mama kind of frequent customer, one who loves to spoil him?Regardless I’m a fan now of your work and I can’t wait for the next piece!!

ok ok ok ok ok

SANJI x OC (you're still the narrator)

brothel au

(cw: service!sanji, cunnilingus, weed, brothel/sw, shanks dirty talk)

Songs: "Heaven" by Maude Latour, "Dress" by Charlotte Sands

words: 1.2k

"Here you are, darling," Sanji croons as he hands you the handrolled joint. It's stuffed with pink flowers and sticky bud, and you can't wait to smoke it with him. This is more or less your nightly tradition, when both you and Sanji are available. If you're doing paperwork or seeing high-name clients, or if Sanji is tending the bar or having his own fun surrounded by eager young girls, then you both just collapse into your separate beds until the next day.

But tonight, you both are free, having taken the night off for each other. Sanji is kneeling at your feet, in between your legs. He's staring up at you with adoration, his lover and friend.

The smoke tastes thick and heavy, burning the back of your throat with a floaty aftertaste. The cherry buds taste sweet on your tongue, and you lean forward to blow smoke into Sanji's waiting mouth. His lips are soft as feathers, as they flutter around your own. He inhales the fragrant smoke, then pulls away to blow it to the side. Wispy clouds curl up and around the air of your boudoir.

He gently takes the joint from you, and inhales for himself. It's hot, and he coughs. The paper is softly crackling as he he taps off the ash. Sanji leans into you, resting his head on your knee. You softly stroke your fingers through his flaxen hair. It's shiny, and you watch it flash gold in the amber light. Music floats in from a festival down the street: something to do with pumpkins, and...ghosts?

Sanji presses a kiss to your knee.

"How was your day, my lovely?" He passes you back the joint, and you take a long hit. You keep it between your fingers: deference always paid to the madame. He strokes a slender finger down the inside of your calf. He traces your ankle, delicately wrapping his strong fingers around your foot. His thumb presses on the inside of your arch. You both sigh, relaxing into each other's presence.

"Oh, the usual," you hum, tapping the ash off into a silver tray left on your vanity, scattered with ribbons and beads at the moment. Your second hit burns faster than the last. Swiftly, you duck the joint back down to Sanji's lips, letting him take the rest of the sweet smoke himself. "Hired the new gardener today. She's been spending lots of time with Luffy lately," you muse, clicking your fingers together.

"Hm," Sanji snubs out the smoking joint. He lifts up, bracing himself with a hand on each of your knees. He leans closer, and kisses you. You brush his hair back from his face as he pulls back, deigning to gaze over both sides of his face. His hand comes up to cup your own cheek. He strokes his thumb softly over your skin. His touch feels like rose petals, and you sigh.

"Darling," you say, stroking his cheek, "Would you like a massage today?"

Sanji hums, leaning in to press hips against your temple. He smells like sweet wine and roses. Your high is creeping up the back of your legs, and you swoon a bit as Sanji scoops you off the chair and into his arms. He carries you bridal style to the bed, and lays you down gently. He pulls at the sash of your kimono, and lays it open to expose your bare breasts and stomach.

"I'd rather please you," he admits, kissing at the soft plush of your lower abdomen. He skims his fingers over your thighs, meeting your gaze with hungry eyes. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, lips hovering above the soft hairs between your legs.

Sanji runs his hand over your left hand, sticking at the purple jewels on your fourth finger. He hums, quirking an eyebrow. "Shanks came to visit last week," he mentions, hooking your legs over his shoulders.

"He's my pirate," you admit, roses blooming on your cheeks. "He's my friend," you say softer, more importance coating the word. It hangs heavy on your tongue, like dripping honey.

"Tell me about him," he croons, licking a stripe up your pussy. He has both slender hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place. You lean back, nestling into the comfort of your own pillows.

"His hair," you say immediately (surprising no one), "I can't help running my fingers through it. It's thick, and wavy, and salt-drenched," you moan, arching your lower back into Sanji's touch. He pets your pussy with two fingers, licking at your clit. He loves hearing about your other men as he pleasures you.

"His chest," you say, running your fingers through Sanji's own, golden hair. It's thin and flaxen, but softer than silk. "His muscular build," you grunt, eyebrows furrowing as Sanji speeds up, his fingertips pressing inside you. He keeps them there, just an inch past your entrance, and rubs them softly against your fluttering walls. "He's so strong," you say, "He can pick me up with one hand, it's so fucking hot--,"

"Tell me more," Sanji murmurs, his tongue replacing his fingers inside you. He stretches it out as far as it can go, warm and wet as he finds your sweetest spots. Sweat starts to bead at your temples. "Tell me how good he is to you, princess."

"He's so good!" You moan, thighs trembling as Sanji rubs at your clit, tongue-fucking you like a fucking prince. "He's so protective over me, and he's so--so masculine, it makes me feel so safe. He used to--to beat up clients that were rough, he used to just--cast them into the sea," you squeeze your eyes shut, voice trembling as Sanji brings you closer to your high. Sanji never lets you wait for long.

"How does he fuck you, madame?"

"He fucks me so good!" You yell, hips bucking into Sanji's delicate fingers. He's replaced his tongue with four long digits, rubbing at you so, so sweetly. His tongue flicks your little rosebud, soft and fast and tickling you towards an orgasm.

"He's so fucking strong," you say again, imagining your fiance's hot weight above you, fucking you with a dick thicker than a wine bottle. Your high is fully sweeping you off your feet now, waving over you in sea breezes of comfort.

"Does he make you cum, angel?" Sanji brushes his tongue flat against your clit, pulsing slightly as he maintains pressure. You shudder, trickling tingles running down your spine.

"He makes me cum so fucking hard--," you gasp out as an orgasm overtakes you. The high bolsters your pleasure, running you along Sanji's fingers as he rides you out. He kisses your inner thigh, thumb deftly twirling at your clit as you cum.

"Darling," he croons, lifting up as you finish twitching on the bed, "You're so beautiful for me," he rises up to kiss your cheeks, skimming soft lips over your flushed skin.

"Thank you," you breathe, wrapping your arms around Sanji's neck. He smells like sweet rosé, and you inhale deeply. He chuckles, breath puffing against the soft hairs at the nape of your neck. It tickles.

"Thank you," he counters, "The pleasure's all mine."

****

[randomwriteronline]

"I can't do anything for the eyelid."

Krakua listened in polite and total silence as Jaller (slightly creaky, emphasis on velar consonants) insisted: "Nothing at all?"

"It's fused into the mask," Zaria (ejective alveolar fricatives, deeper tinnier tone, slightly scratchy) replied curtly: "I can't separate the different protodermis masses anymore, and even if I could the lid wouldn't be able to move on its own after the damage it sustained. The only viable options are to either close it completely, leave it like this, or remove the whole thing."

"A permanently open eye sounds like a nightmare..."

"And there's no saying an operation like that doesn't run the risk of fracturing the brain, either."

"That's a possibility?"

"With how brittle he is, I wouldn't be surprised." the voice shifted, sound waves changing trajectory with a sneer: "How did you even wreck yourself like that, huh? Forgot how to finish a Nova blast?"

Krakua remained perfectly still, breaths quiet, shallow.

After a long pause, Jaller spoke up: "Can the mask be removed?

"Surgically, yes. I could probably shave off a bit of the excess protodermis to make the mass a little more manageable, too. He'll need to be operated on his joints either way."

"What's your sentence on those?"

"Left knee will have to be bolted down so it doesn't risk dislocating abruptly, but it'll survive; I'll leave what to do with the right one up to him in the end, though personally I'd completely re-do it since it's not much better than the calf and ankle - those are too damaged and will need prosthetic replacements. His foot seems fine enough, I'll see if I can salvage it."

"And his other ankle? Hewkii said it was broken."

"It is, and it'll need a thorough welding job. His hip and spine too, on a smaller scale. His chest is only a bit warped, thankfully, so there shouldn't be too many problems."

"About his arm--"

"The problem's organic. Elder Racans promised they'll check on it."

"Thank you. If there's anything we can do..."

"See if you can remedy him some more braces like the one he already had until the prosthetics feel natural and at least one crutch to get around, maybe a small vehicle. He'll need as little weight on his lower half as possible for the adjustment period, and it surely won't be too bad to let him have some support later on, either."

"That's the opposite of an issue. Nuparu will love to keep himself busy for about a day designing and making all that."

A deeper hum closed the conversation with a nod, and the Toa of Iron stalked away to the other side of the room to rummage with a pile of something delicate, of carefully tempered metal and thick crystalline glass, looking for the correct tool.

Their soft tinkering painted unclear shapes in the eye of Krakua's mind as their careful sounds melted into the white noise tracing patterns on the ceiling.

"You've been awfully quiet," a creaky voice whispered at his side.

"Thinking," he replied hoarsely, peacefully.

Jaller smiled: "About what?"

"If my mask can be fixed."

"That's a question for the mask makers," Zaria interjected.

"They'll surely have the schematics for a Suletu," the Toa of Fire reassured his friend: "If not, they can easily get someone to send a print for it over."

But the De-Toa tilted his head slightly: "I want my mask fixed," he insisted: "I don't need a new one. Mine's fine. I just want it fixed."

"It will have to be melted down."

"That's fine. I just want it fixed."

"I think that can be done. It will probably have some added protodermis, though, to stabilize it."

"But most of it will still be the same?"

"Of course."

"That's fine, then."

Liquid lightly crashing against the inside of some kind of vial distracted him briefly: the Toa of Iron laid the object down before he could catch a good glimpse of it and went back to rummaging for yet some other medical utensil.

Raising his volume so he could be heard above the rockus, he did not turn as he asked: "Did you listen to what I said earlier?"

"Yes," Krakua croaked as nicely as his ghastly voice could.

"What do you want for your eye, then?"

"Like this is fine."

"Your knee?"

"I trust you."

"So I have permission to make it a prosthesis?"

"Yes, please."

Zaria turned to him briefly like he'd just spoken in an alien language: "Aren't you polite," he muttered at last, sounding flabbergasted.

Krakua coughed out a little laugh.

Jaller remained in the room as long as he could, keeping a careful eye on the few pieces of equipment slowly piling up on a small tray beside the cot - metal ingots, a sealed glass vial of some nebulous liquid, some kind of half-mask, a chisel, a pair of small scissors, a miniature blowtorch, a scalpel of sorts. He recognized most of them from his time getting a shoulder fixed up in the claustrophobic infirmary in Ta-Koro, his example being used to teach as many Matoran as possible how to treat more dire injuries.

His thoughts soured the longer his gaze lingered on the utensils. A vague sense of calm nudged them to the side: glancing downward, he found the De-Toa staring at him, buzzing faintly yet reassuringly where he laid with a sort of pleasant grimace and a quiet mischievoys request to distract him.

Acquiescing, a short sonar wave left the Arthron.

The Toa of Fire managed a little smile when his friend squirmed with a hissing giggle as the sound gently hit him.

He nodded whenZaria made a definitive gesture, telling him to get out and wait until called again - probably to fetch the safely removed Mask of Telepathy.

His hand squeezed gently the dark armored shoulder one last time: "Remember you'll need to adjust."

"Hm-hm."

"And I'll have your mask."

"Hm-hm."

"So don't disappear again. Got it?"

"Hm-hm."

A stern look: "Got it?"

The battered warrior cackled: "Got it."

Jaller patted him lightly; the next moment, he was gone.

The Fe-Toa's palm was heavier, more concrete: laid across Krakua's chestpiece it seemed to encompass it completely, carefully studying how the protodermis rose and fell beneath it.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed.

Krakua inhaled as much as he could.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Good. Keep going," he ordered as he went to fetch the vial.

The younger being watched him fix the half-mask on top of it, careful not to jostle the liquid too much yet: "I don't need it," he spoke calmly, very quietly. "I can handle the pain."

He watched the rusted fingers clench a little harder around the glass.

The words came out of Zaria in a hiss: "You can't."

No further arguments were had.

It took a couple of tries, but at last the muzzle fit perfectly over the Suletu's mouth.

The anesthetic smelled like something far too clean, scrubbed dry of any hint of life. Krakua shut the one eye that could still be properly shut and breathed the disgusting antiseptic scent in as long and as deep as he could, just like he was told to do, while a palm pressed down on his forehead.

Slowly, very slowly, the odor subsided.

He startled awake when he realized the weight spread on his face was gone as well. His throat rumbled and sputtered like an engine revved up one too many times, hurriedly calling out for Trinuma: no other part of his body understood his intentions, remaining limp and unresponsive inside his frozen body, and so all that came out of him was the low monotone wail of a calculator incurring into an impossible error.

An orange shape entered his field of vision: "Stay calm," (ejective alveolar fricatives, deeper tinnier tone, slightly scratchy) "Stay calm, we're done. Deep breaths."

"Done?" Krakua repeated - borrowing Zaria's voice when his own failed him again.

"Done. The operation's done. It went well. Now breathe."

His chest moved easier now. His back had lost the strange tingle he'd been feeling long enough to forget about, noticing it again only now that it had disappeared. His lower half felt like bits and pieces of a whole: entire body parts he knew had to be there left terrifyingly large gaps in his tactile reception.

His body felt more his with each breath, returning inhabitable little by little. It took a few long attempts, but his neck cleared, and opened, and words began to fill his mouth once more.

"How are you feeling?" the Fe-Toa inquired.

"Weird," he wheezed raucously, a little pained: "Drowsy."

"That's normal," his surgeon reassured him. "Your body is trying to recognize the prosthetics. Try to sleep it off, I'll wake you when Racans arrives to see what to do for your arm."

"My mask?"

Steps moving away: "Jaller's got it."

"Ah... Ah. Right."

He focused on the white noise - conversations out of the door, just far enough for the words to become indistinguishable, blooming into large pixelated patterns of static against the ceiling.

Another part of his body felt a little more familiar.

A whine left him.

Zaria turned back to him: "What now?"

"Wanted to ask," Krakua groaned through his tiredness. "More discreet... With a Suletu..."

He did not miss the scratching sound of tightening joints: "Questions about your operation?" the deep tinny voice hissed, warning him witho uttering any threat: "Or about Toa Zaria?"

The De-Toa craned his neck enough to look at the other.

His interlocutor showed him his back as he fancied himself busy putting his tools back in their rightful place.

"You thought of two things, when I said... I could handle it. The pain."

The creak of glass under pressure: "Be very quick."

"For the second - does it always feel, that bad?"

"Yes."

A soft hum.

Zaria's eye glowered from behind his shoulder: "And for the first?"

"Does it ever get better?"

Silence followed.

His head felt so terribly heavy. He didn't want to sleep.

It would have been so easy, if he'd had his mask. Maybe he should have left it forever stuck to his skull. It hurt horribly, and it didn't work as well as before, but he would have been able to use it now.

His body quivered. He was so tired. He didn't want to sleep.

The white noise on the ceiling curled around him comfortably, locking him in some sort of soothing hold.

Rusted hands rested on his knees.

"You'll need these checked every year," Zaria mumbled: "I'll be waiting for you. And hopefully, I'll... I'll have a good enough answer for you, one of these times."

His gaze met Krakua's.

He got back a comforted smile.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 17: Breaking Point: Pushing Mitsuhide’s buttons is a bad idea - Katsu does it anyway..

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

"Once again, I find myself mystified as to how to get you to stay in one place." Mitsuhide locked one end of the chain to my ankle, and the other to his own. "Finally it occurred to me that you need something to occupy yourself, a puzzle, a code, a game, or..." he handed me the lock picks, "An escape task."

"And you chose option D?" I eyed the shogi game set that he had put on display. "I do know how to play Shogi."

He he took a step toward the table and I nearly fell over. I hope he didn’t noti-. His smirk told me he noticed. "In the highly unlikely event that I become tired of watching you struggle with this, we can have a game."

He wasn’t completely sadistic; he had let me go to the bathroom and change into less restrictive clothing before he’d locked us together. "Won't it bother you if I'm moving around?" I tested length of the chain; I could possibly get a meter away from him.

"I will manage to live with the annoyance." He settled down at his desk, forcing me to take the cushion closest to him. On the bright side, this was an interesting challenge, he had been correct about the fact that it was something that would occupy my attention for--

Click

About a minute.

"Ha! Done." I gave Mitsuhide what I hoped was a look of triumph. Call me Houdini. Harry Houdini.

"That, was your warm up." Mitsuhide locked the chain to my ankle again, this time with a new coded lock. He must have been scouring the town to add to a collection of restraints.

Er. Locks. I totally meant locks. I reached for my foot, only to be stopped by Mitsuhide, who put that pink blindfold back on me. "Really? Is that necessary?"

"For training, possibly not, for amusement purposes, absolutely.” I glared at him through the blindfold – I know, he couldn’t possibly know I was glaring but it made me feel slightly better to do it. “I could only find one new lock – this will prevent you from memorizing the combination.” Ok he knows I was glaring.

Then something soft and feathery brushed the bottom of my foot. "What was that? What did you just do?"

"Adding a distraction to the difficulty level." He said it matter-of-factly, daring me to accuse him of torturing me for fun.

That brushy thing - it probably was one of the peacock feathers from the large vase by the door- slithered across the bottom of my foot again. "Stop that."

"Are you ticklish, Brat?” The soft touches halted for a moment, then began again in random patterns.

"No." Not there anyway. But the unannounced guerilla attacks were working my last nerve. I never knew when, or exactly where, the feather would swoop down for a tickle raid.

"Pity." The feather teased the end of my nose. "When we first met, Aki was hurling knives at you. You cannot make me believe that knives are in fact preferable to feathers."

"I could in fact see the knives." That annoying feather hit the inside of my elbow, where I actually was ticklish, and I slapped it in annoyance. In the process, I lost my place on the lock. I could feel the barrels slip out of joint.

Grrr!

Behind me, Mitsuhide was quietly snickering. I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing that a visible sign of annoyance would simply encourage him, and started again, this time bracing myself for wherever he would strike next.

"I never imagined that distracting you would be this entertaining."

Feather.

Chin.

Feather.

Knee.

Feath - that was not a feather, Mitsuhide had drawn his finger along the inside of my arm.

"Enough!" I took hold of the chain and yanked on it hard. If he had been standing it could have pulled him over, I knew I hadn’t budged him, but maybe that had stung a little.

That appeared to get the message through for he stopped pestering me, and I was able to concentrate on decoding the lock. One tumbler, two.... three. Those were the ones I had solved before his tease had messed me up, so they were close to the line anyway. I pulled in the kind of focus I normally used practicing archery, direction all my attention on that one specific tumbler, shutting out everything else.

Four.

Mitsuhide didn’t exist. It was me and the lock and—

A cool finger touched the back of neck. No that had been the tip of his tongue! “Ughhh!” I yanked off the blindfold, and pushed him away. "That was not part of our agreement."

"In fact it is, you will find." He sat there with that infuriating grin on his face.

"No sexual touching when we are in private." I know what is in our contract – I transcribed most of it myself.

"While we are not investigating or otherwise working," Again the calm statement dared me to argue.

I argued.

"We’re not working.  Nor were we working today. You were gone. I had things to do." He could not have expected me to wait patently in this house while he was gone for almost a week.

His mood flipped in an instant. One moment, I had teasing Mitsuhide, the next, that coldly furious man I had met at the beginning of the summer.

It happened so fast, I’d had no time to react. Mitsuhide knocked me backward, pushing me down on the cushion, holding my wrists to the floor. "You've been testing the boundary of our agreement from the start. Sneaking out at night, leaving when I've ordered you to stay put, breaking into my room to search it. The only freedom you have ever had is what I have granted you, and I’m rapidly losing patience with your little rebellions."

"Let go of me." I squirmed, trying to wiggle away from him, but he knew what he was doing and did not budge. "Do you want me to stab you in your sleep? Because we're getting dangerously close to the line here."

"A piece of advice, in fact two. One, death threats are useless when the other person holds all the power. Which, you will find, I do." He demonstrated this power by adding more pressure to the hold, immobilizing me from shoulder to hip. "Second, telling the person you plan to kill exactly how you plan to do it only gives them time to prepare."

Point to him. Threatening death by stab only works if you are someone like Uesugi Kenshin.

Even so, if he didn’t let go of me soon, I would spend the rest of our time here getting as much creative revenge as I could manage. Maybe even longer than that. Five years from now, I would still be visiting to enact more revenge.

"Now, do I have your attention?" He looked right into my eyes, daring me to look away. Daring me to blink. I did neither. My nerves were buzzing, though, and I’m sure he could tell my pulse was racing. I could hear it in my ears. "I'll consider that a yes. There are things I do, orders I give, because they need doing, doing by me. Whenever you leave this place without my permission, without telling me where you are going, what you are doing, you risk my, yes my investigation. You, brat, are the perfect example of someone who knows just enough to be dangerous. You have skill and training, but you’re reckless and overconfident." He held still for a moment longer, apparently waiting for a sign that I understood him.

"Would it kill you to explain why you’re giving me orders, and what your plans are?" All I want is a little bit of logic in my life.

"You shouldn’t need that from me - or anyone. Does your father explain himself to you every time?" He let go of one of my wrists to poke me in the forehead.

"N-n-no.” He never had. And the things Aki had done without explanation were piling up, farther and faster than I could keep up with them.

"I don’t have time step softly around your feelings about whatever you believe your father did - although I suspect it has something to do with that drawing you brought home." Again, he poked my forehead, this time more gently, taking the opportunity to brush my hair out of my eyes. "This is not a game where you play at being a spy. I'm trying to keep us alive. I'm trying to find Hideyoshi and Mai before whoever has them decides they are worth more dead than alive. Every time you fight me takes me further away from that. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I could have left it there, not let him in any further, but the lie of my life had gotten too big for me to keep locked away any further. "He left her. He left us alone with her. I never knew her as she was in that drawing… happy."

"Us?" The questioning tone in his voice reminded me that I’d never told Mitsuhide about Toshiie.

"I have a brother. He disappeared seven years ago – before Aki took me in." Our being in this era could not have been a coincidence. Why hadn’t Aki managed to save both of us? Or found Toshiie in the interim?

"Maybe he believed you were safer with her.” He looked away from me, and it occurred to me that Mitsuhide was more likely to relate to Aki’s actions, than to mine. “Your father gave you a home after your mother died. Provided for you. Taught you. Whatever crimes he did to your family in the past, you've had several years with him. Can present actions make up for past sins?" He was still so very close to me, enough for me to notice the way his pulse sped up at the words, ‘past sins.’

"It's... more complicated than that." To explain in any more detail would be to tell him about the time traveling and that just wasn't a conversation I was ready for. "Um. Will you let go of me now?"

The time for revelations had run out.  Whatever accord we'd come to the night we’d talked over tea and sake was long gone, whatever honesty that had been here just a moment ago fled, leaving whatever this... this confusing, raw feeling was. There were things about me that he could not have. Not now, not ever.

I believe it was the same for him.

"I'll have your promise first. And give you one as well. If I give you an order it is because it is important, necessary, it will not be from some private whim." He touched my mouth with one cold finger. "So if I tell you the sky is green, and that the moon is the sun, you must agree, and obey. Do I have your word?"

"Yes." I was still going to stab him in his sleep though.

"You know, brat, you cannot literally kill me with your eyes, no matter how fiercely you glare at me." He laughed then, a teasing laugh. A victor's laugh. Finally he let go of my wrist, sat back, and said, as calmly as if he hadn't handed me an ice cold lecture a moment earlier, "Would you like to try decoding the lock again?"

What I wanted, was to get out of this room, to retreat to a private space, away from the coldness, the teasing. But it was still early and I had a feeling I would not be permitted to lick my wounds. Nor did I want him to think I was broken. He'd had my agreement because his logic made sense, and only because of that. Resolutely, I turned my back on him and got to work on the lock. "If you distract me again, I'm strangling you with this chain."

Hey, it worked on Jabba the Hut.

“Duly noted.” Once again I got to work on trying to decode the tumblers.

“Was Kyubei very angry with you when he found you?” Like every hairstylist ever, Sho asked the question while my head was partially submerged in a large kettle of water, so I could only guess at the exact contents.

I closed my eyes while a ladle of warm water poured over my head. "You could say that." His hot and cold anger and my conflicted response to it had kept me awake most of the night. Only now, in the comforting warmth of the water, did I feel like my pulse was finally returning to normal. It wasn’t until I stepped into a large yukata that Sho held open for me, that it occurred to me that she too might have had to face his anger. "What about you? Did he find you on the docks?"

"He seemed concerned about your safety. After I told him where you were, he just walked me home and told me to come back here tomorrow early. Er today, I guess." She continued to chatter happily about her excursion, and I kept one ear open to any mention of Shojumaru. Which means I got to hear many compliments on his strong physique and his attractive looks.

"Does he have ships of his own, or just warehouses?" Hopefully, that didn’t come across as too much of a non sequitar.

"Hiko has mentioned being on board Shojumaru’s ship, so I guess he has one." She pouted a bit about her brother getting a treat she was denied, but didn’t elaborate. Either she wasn't in on this secret, or she was a better spy than she appeared to be. In case it was the latter, I didn’t press.

"I suppose I can ask him tonight - he's supposed to be at this banquet. I hate going to places when I don’t know what I'm going to talk about with people." de Sousa's little invite to dine had morphed into a large banquet. Apparently he wished to show off how things were done in Portugal.

"What do western ladies wear, do you know?” As usual, her interest was more in fashion than helping me figure out whatever the manners would be necessary at this shindig.

"I don't know really." All I knew about European fashion of this time had come from television, and I had never been enough of a fan of costume dramas, especially Western ones, to seek any out. "Maybe a lot of heavy clothes?" Corsets. Oh thank god I didn’t time travel to an era with corsets. The breast flattener I wore as Katsu was painful enough. “Or, I don’t know. Heavy fabric, but not the number of layers that court ladies wear here.”

"Hmph. It must be cold over there." she began combing the water out of my hair, blotting and squeezing out the moisture as she went. "Maybe if I braid it while it’s still wet, there would be a nice bit of curl by tonight?"

"Whatever you think best. You are the expert here." I did have a slight natural wave to my hair, but only when it was layered to take the weight out. "Did Kyubei express any preferences?"

"Oh, you want to please him? Do you like him now? I wasn’t certain myself when I first met him, but he was very kind to me yesterday." She hummed a little bit as she looked through my clothing. The seamstress had come through with several delicately feminine kimonos. None were exactly to my taste - too pale, too much embroidery... but from a certain point of view, they were pretty.

"He's got his moments." Most of which inspired homicidal thoughts in me, but if I stepped back from my emotions (usually an easier task, but... details) I thought I understood the reasoning behind his behavior. He was worried about his friends, and everything was in service to that mission. I had to admit such loyalty was admirable, even when his modus operandi consisted of coldly given orders alternating with irritating teasing. Figures that he saved whatever kindness he had for Sho. "Oh. The green, I suppose." She'd been holding out two kimonos for me to choose between - a pink with a pattern of deeper pink blossoms, or a green with willow trees and cranes.

"An excellent choice." Mitsuhide stood in the door. Oh crap, had he been listening? I double checked that my yukata was securely tied, while Sho greeted him with a bow. He strolled into the room, as calmly as if we hadn't spent last night fighting - for that was truly what it had been - a fight for control of territory.

Unfortunately I had been the territory, and I had lost the battle.

He handed me a narrow packet wrapped in festive, tissue thin rice paper. "A present for my dear Kaya. I believe you'll find they match your outfit. Please wear them."

And then, probably because Sho was watching (in fact she had her hand to her heart at the so called romance of it all), he bowed low over my hand, and pressed a European style kiss to the back of it. His lips were cool, his breath was warm, and the back of my hand tingled at the sensation. Why was ‘Kyubei' was suddenly being so nice to Kaya, when his original character had been presented as abusive? Maybe the act was for Sho's benefit. I would have to ask him later tonight.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Sho peered anxiously over my shoulder, seeming more excited about the gift than I was.

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Though the width it fit easily in my palm, the packet had a bit of heft to it. I lifted it to my ear, shook it gently and heard a very faint metallic clink. I mulled that over for a moment, until I looked up and saw that Mitsuhide looked amused.

You don’t need to turn this into a puzzle, his expression seemed to say.

I suppose not.

I unfolded the paper and pulled a trio of silver hair sticks out of the packet. They were decorated on one end with tiny sprays of white bellflowers (whch would probably tickle the tops of my ears when the sticks were inserted into my hair). Was this Mitsuhide’s way to make sure I would think about him and my mission at all time? He never did anything without an ulterior motive.

"So pretty, and they will easily match everything you own.”  Sho reached out with one finger to poke at the dangling flowers.

"Yes, I’m aware of Kaya's wardrobe." He experimentally laid one next to my head. “An attractive and effective way to keep my lady's wayward hair in place. It does rather have a habit of escaping."

Though of course the meaning of that went over Sho's head, I expected Mitsuhide intended that as a warning. Then again... I tested the weight and sharpness of the sticks. They were pretty solid. Solid enough to pierce flesh. I might even be able to stab him with one. Nor would these break if I ever tried to unlo-

At that moment, it hit me what these were. Heavier and sharper than a normal hair stick. He'd... gotten me my own set of lock picks.

Coolest gift ever.

Decorative, deadly, and capable of opening locks. He'd pretty much hit it out of the park on the gift-giving game. "This," I emphasized are pointy end, “could come in super handy. Thank you Master Kyubei." He tapped on my lips with his finger and any calmness I had been able to achieve that morning suddenly fled at his touch. "No need to thank me. Your smile is enough.” And with a bow, he was gone, leaving Sho giggling in his wake… and yes, I supposed I was indeed smiling.

@bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @lorei-writes @tele86 @akitsuneswife

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Chapter 1 - "Storm"

Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 2.8K Chapters: 1/5 Rating: Explicit (soon!)

Summary: You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

Warnings: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries (will be updated as I go along)

A/N: Well, here we go! My first foray into fanfiction writing in something like 18 years? What can I say, Andy Serkis has an inspirational way about him, it seems.

In my mind this is set somewhere between "Avengers" and "Age of Ultron". I wanted to give myself somewhere to go, since I do kind of have plans beyond this! I'm not sure yet if I'll end up extending this work, or start a new one (in a same universe/established relationship kind of deal), but we'll see!

Also I apologize for any weird tense shifting, this started out as something else then evolved to being a reader-insert fic (which kind of unlocked it for me, actually).

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and the Butchers.

AO3 Link

Blood-shot, your eyes drop And the skin's all wearing thin There's no one here to tell you ‘Bout the depth of the water Or the trouble that you're in

You're standing on the edge of a precipice.

You can’t see what’s below but you know that it’s a sheer drop with an inhospitable field of boulders lining the river at the bottom. Your heart is pounding hard but steady under your rib cage and if you look down at yourself you can see the tremor of each beat as it ripples through your bones and muscles. In contrast your head feels bright and weightless with anticipation.

You nudge your feet forward until the tips of your shoes are hanging over the edge of the platform that you’re standing on. A gust of wind tests your balance and your stomach lurches as you wobble slightly, but you take a steadying breath and brace your core, keeping yourself rigid from shoulders to ankles Taking one final breath all the way to the top of your lungs you allow your body to tip forward and the moment that gravity finally takes hold of you a helpless, giddy cry releases from your chest as you plummet towards the roaring river below.

No one you’ve ever met would choose to describe you as particularly risk averse, finding yourself more often drawn towards the source of the adrenaline than repelled by it.

You’ve mountain climbed in Yosemite, bungee jumped in New Zealand, and once rode the Ride of Steel "hypercoaster" twenty times in a row on a bet. Your date had been startled by how quickly you took him up on it and insisted that he was joking, the "joke" of course being that you wouldn't be able to handle it. You happily got in the front car and proceeded to laugh gleefully every single time you crested that first 68° degree drop that seemed to point directly at the ground. 

Unfortunately your date evidently got bored and decided to peace out halfway through what he had started. After reading his text you laughed even harder than when you were on the coaster, promptly blocked him, and went to find yourself a funnel cake. The next day all of your joints ached and you felt curiously hungover, but you also felt like you had a clear head for the first time in weeks.

You're not naive, though, you understand that taking risks can get you hurt. You received a permanent reminder of this fact when you ended a paragliding trip to the Finger Lakes in New York State with a compound fracture of your humerus. The ride had been almost perfect but as you were coming in to land a rogue gust of wind lifted and then pushed you awkwardly sideways. The sudden shift in momentum and resulting collapse of one side of your glider caused you to slam left arm-first into the ground which, you noted with a detached annoyance, was just as hard as when you had left it.

Fighting off shock you walked a mile to the nearest house, and after the startled couple had calmed down from the bloody sight of you standing on their porch they brought you inside and called an ambulance. They gently stabilized your arm with a scarf while making sure to keep your feet elevated, and didn’t stop asking you questions to keep you talking until help arrived.

You still send Homer and Daisy postcards at least once a year.

Two surgeries, two metal plates, eleven screws and twelve weeks later your cast was off and your cabin fever had you on a plane to Munich because it was October, and why not?.

You’ve traveled solo for most of your adult life. It’s just easier: you don’t have to explain yourself, or wait around for other people to make up their minds regarding plans (or try to change them completely). If you’re able to coordinate with someone you will, but rarely go out of your way to do so.

You spent a week trekking across the moors of the Scottish Highlands (to this day you will attest that the shitty tavern beer you drank when you returned to civilization was the best thing you’ve ever tasted) and visited Cairo which, even before the Arab Spring, was not the safest place for a solo female traveler - as you were cheerfully reminded by just about every shopkeeper and cab driver you encountered. You were regularly offered some sort of local sweets during these interactions, though, so you learned not to mind it too much.

There’s just something that thrills you about figuring out a new place. About setting yourself as a Minotaur at the center of a labyrinth and then figuring out where you needed to go and how to get there, wandering around corners and finding disused pathways, pressing at the edges of a city to find where the pieces came together.

Then, when things got really weird and aliens invaded Earth in the Battle of New York and Superheroes became a very real thing, you lost your mind with the rest of the world for a little while. But as always seemed to happen life quickly picked up the strange new pieces and moved forward. You incorporated the new information into your reality, listened to people complain about how it was just the next thing to be pummelled into your brains during the 24 hour news cycle (Tony Stark certainly seemed to enjoy this), and continued on living because you just..did.

You find work when and where you need to; travel and adrenaline seeking aren’t free, after all.

You started learning to weld in a high school shop class after taking it as an elective and it turned out that it was actually very relaxing for you, almost meditative. You took to the craft quickly, learning that metallurgy was its own art form that was both challenging and rewarding. You find a rare calm in watching the molten puddle form, smelling the Flux burning, the elements of the Earth being reshaped under your hands, and then the ache of accomplishment in your muscles after a long day.

And, honestly, you’d be hard pressed to deny that it also kind of just tickled that part of your primordial lizard brain that got excited at “Fire! Pretty!”

The cutting, prepping and moving materials around doesn’t bother you either, it helps to keep you strong and sure of yourself. The men and occasionally other women that you work with quickly learn that you have zero issues getting your shit done, and so tend to leave you alone.

Your trade gives you the freedom to move around and do what you want since you can find work pretty easily just about anywhere. Of course there will always be those stubborn bastards who staunchly refuse to hire a woman out of some weak sense of tradition, but these days it’s not as much of a fight to get hired as it was back when you were first starting out. It also helps that now most of the holdouts can be convinced simply by making an incredulous face and asking, “Really? Aliens and Gods are real, but a woman welding is just too bananas for you to handle?”

That usually does the trick. Thanks aliens! You really did a sister a solid on that one.

Your work and your wanderlust mean that you rarely stay in one place for very long. You work hard and enough to support yourself and to save up for whatever port calls you next, but as much as you enjoy traveling and learning the world you’ve never felt particularly connected to one place, or person. Outside of the occasional one night stand any relationships you’ve had have been short lived. Not necessarily because the sex was boring (in fact occasionally it could be pretty great) but eventually they would just get tired of a woman who didn’t want to settle down and wasn’t interested in taking care of them.

You might last a few months in any given place - sometimes it’s as short as a couple of weeks - before you’re pulling up the stakes again in search of a new maze. No matter where you are you know that you'll inevitably start to get antsy, like a cat who was becoming unnerved, back twitching furtively in anticipation of something you can’t quite sense the edges of.

It’s on a hot night night in July during one of these periods of in between that you find yourself in a small bar in Utrecht, about thirty minutes outside of Amsterdam.

The walls are decorated with green and white striped wallpaper and an entertainingly prolific number of brass fixtures and ornately kitschy framed art, all bordered by wooden wainscoting painted dark brown. There is a massively thick, ancient dark wood bar top and mismatched tables, surfaces all gouged and scratched, water stains seeping through the decades of lacquer that looks to be at least half an inch thick.

It’s been mind-warpingly humid for the past three days, uncharacteristic for somewhere so close to the North Sea, and the entire city feels on edge. Even now in the evening's waning hours the air is thick and syrupy, the promise of a thunderstorm hanging teasingly in the heavy air.

You’ve positioned yourself in a corner that puts you in the path of a fan plugged in next to the bar, soaking in the relieving sweep of air every time its oscillating breeze passes over you. It’s nearing closing time and you’re nursing a glass of genever, your fingers absently play through the condensation on the surface while you debate giving the very tall and sweet looking local who's been glancing your way for the last hour, a shot at convincing you to let him take you back to your hotel.

The front door opens from the street letting in a gust of air that feels surprisingly cool, you perk up a little and hope that it's a herald of the summer storm the city’s been waiting for. You’re about to down the last swallow of your drink when you glance up at the man that just entered, flanked by two enforcer-looking buddies.

Ice rattles as the glass pauses on its way to your lips, your attention immediately drawn to them. Or rather, to him.

Dark haired and broad shouldered he’s the shortest of the three and yet seems to take up the most space. He’s wearing dark green slacks and heavy boots with a tan fatigue shirt, the top two buttons unfastened to reveal part of a large tattoo across his chest and collar bones. When he turns his head you see more tattoos arcing across his neck and skull under short clipped hair before trailing down beneath his shirt collar. 

You set your glass back down, entirely missing the coaster, and unconsciously lick your lips.

It's well past last call but you watch as the dark haired man orders a whiskey anyway. The bartender tiredly starts to let him know that it’s too late, but when he finally looks up and properly takes in the three men in front of him he seems to make a quick mid-flight recalculation. A beleaguered expression shifts to an accommodating if distinctly nervous smile before pulling a bottle off of a high shelf to pour the drink.

You can’t clock if the bartender knows the man or if he simply picked up on the same energy that you had, quickly realizing that this was the kind of person that it was risky to say no to.

The local and his friends had suddenly decided to call it a night, so now it’s only you and a couple of barflies left. You can hear the three men talking but can only make out snippets - something about a “new compound” and then, most interestingly “TIG welders”.

You slowly spin your glass in its little puddle of condensation on the table, the spark of an idea coalescing into half of a plan. You convince yourself that it’s because you're looking for a new direction anyway, that this is just serendipitous timing and you should take advantage of it, that it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the way your eyes keep being drawn to the tattooed man at the bar.

You finish your drink and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans, then gather your things and start walking towards the door. You pass the bar on your way to the exit but then, making it seem like an afterthought, you briefly pause and then double back to get the man’s attention.

“Hi, sorry to bother you-”

He turns to look at you and your words stop short behind your teeth, your stomach doing a loop the instant that his eyes focus on you.

“Um, sorry,” you stammer, caught off guard, but shake your head clear and push forward. “I don’t know if this is relevant at all but.. I’m looking for work. I’m a welder! I mean. Specifically that kind of work.”

Wow, this is going great, you think and internally roll your eyes at yourself.

He looks at you with a bemused expression, but there’s also a “get to the point” sharpness in his eyes.

”I can do TIG, MIG, stick welding..” you trail off, still waiting for him to say something. “So, uh,” you beg yourself to finish an actual sentence, ‘if you’re looking for people, I’m available.”

When he finally speaks his words are low and measured.

“You were eavesdropping.” It wasn’t a question.

You flush at the admonition and are immediately annoyed that you flush, but quickly recover to defend yourself.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you were making it particularly difficult, what with the whole” - you gesture broadly at the bar around you - “having a conversation in a public place and all.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles and takes a sip of his whisky. His accented words are clipped, not entirely out of place in the Netherlands, but still not local. South African, maybe? At his laugh you release some of the tension that's knotted itself between your shoulder blades, though it’s replaced by something else when you notice the glisten of liquor on his lower lip.

His hair is curly and up close you can see the salt and pepper threading its ways through. His eyes refocus on you as he puts his glass down and even in the bar light you can see that they shine blue.

“Hmmm,” he seems to consider, rubbing his fingers across his chin. “I might be able to use you”. You try to keep your expression neutral at that because you're flushing again, finding yourself glad for the low light. “But", he continues, "you should know that I don’t work in, let’s say, traditional fields.”. He picks up his drink again and waits for you to react.

Interesting. “What, like, requires an NDA kind of non-traditional?”

He watches your face closely, his attentiveness making you simultaneously want to curl into yourself and stand up straighter. He smiles slowly, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Something like that.” 

“Well, I’m always looking to get new experience, I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty and I work hard.” He glances at your left arm while you speak, and you see his eyes fall on the thick vertical scar between your shoulder and elbow. Most people can’t help but look but then will quickly avert their eyes. This man’s eyes linger, appraising, and he seems to take his time trailing his gaze up along your shoulder, your neck, and finally back to meet your eyes.

You feel warm and - you’re not quite sure the right word - perceived, maybe. Exposed. A voice in the back of your mind is whispering that this man knows how to get what he wants, and you should be very, very careful.

“David”, he says, not breaking eye contact with you as he gets one of the other men's attention. “Give her the contact details for Romania”, he then stops and looks at you inquisitively, prompting, “Miss..?”

You pick up the queue and give him your name, instinctively extending your hand to shake. After a pause he reaches out his own and wraps his fingers around yours.

“Klaue”, he replies.

And now you’re aware of how small your hand feels in his.

Danger, Will Robinson.

And you think that maybe his hand grasps yours a little longer than necessary before releasing you.

Ok, but seriously: DANGER.

Your instincts are now very insistently yelling that you should turn back - find safe quarters, dry land, high ground. Just say thanks but no thanks and figure something else out, you always do, it'll be fine.

Unfortunately your brain ignores these pleas and the adrenaline flooding your system, as has historically been the case, makes you helpless to do anything but continue on towards the beckoning unknown.

You're standing on the edge of a precipice.

Thank you for reading, and bear with me as I set this up! I should have chapter two up this weekend, and after that it's a bit up in the air but I'm hoping to get a new chapter done every two weeks or so until this one is finished.

Anyway, I'm going to go lie face down on the ground for a bit while I process that I actually did this.

[firespirited]

My back rehab walks are in a oval shaped radius 1km (sideways from home) as I live on the side of a steep hill. Walking along the main road just above my building and the two below and above is not flat, but also not nearly as steep as any ventures up and down. The bins are spaced about 200m along each main road so I've been using them as incremental destinations long before I found out some of the neighbouring housing estates and hotels threw stuff out in them.

After 7 months of gradual strength building I can now do 1h30 or 2.5km - it takes all the energy for the day so 'chore days' have shorter walks.

I stick to these 'loops', walk before 7am and add a little more if I feel OK. June was the month I started adding some hill for the lower back now that my hips are a teensy bit stronger.

But Tuesday, I got the fanciful urge to visit the thrift store where my carer drops off 'rubbish' finds and restored non custom dolls. It wouldn't be open but that wasn't the point. It would be new!

Google maps said 20 mins on foot, I added another 10 to account for the steep hill and figured I could attempt this hour long adventure, screencapped the map, took supplies and Talia the dog (she's better behaved about roads).

I set out at day break and 50 minutes in, it hits that I'm not going to make it, turning back now will at least give me the chance to maybe get back without calling a taxi.

I'm on a quiet road with a few lorries and tractors, the vines are beautiful, there are rare orchids growing by the roadside. I'm scared though because if my body is actually communicating... It Is Bad bad.

The next hour is like one of those slapstick comedies where bits fall off the car except it's my body reacting to overdoing it in increasingly stupid ways.

I expected excessive sweating, tremors and hives, I wasn't surprised as my knee and ankles began to *really* hurt, then i must have jostled something in the shoulders or maybe stress caused it? But the neck pain is blinding and then cherry on top: endo cramps mean I'm dragging one leg from hip/sciatica. Thankfully Talia is unfazed by stops and starts and knows not to pull. I have the cord lead tied around my wrist because I've lost grip in my hands.

I got home and rested in full dark for the day but I'd done 4km (!!!) and quite a bit of hill so I knew today and maybe the next few would be payback time.

The 48h delay will have you thinking that your energy hangover won't be too bad. Yesterday I went about my day as usual and it wasn't until a few hours in that I could feel the small twinges that mean the energy debt *will* have to be paid.

So I have a light/sound sensitive migraine, fever, joint inflammation and very tight cramped shoulders. It could pass tonight, it could be a week or two. It is what it is.

Just 7 months ago I couldn't walk 200m. I can't complain even though it hurts, physical pain doesn't hold a candle to the agony of end of life exhaustion. Mine is currently lower and it feels incredible but also like it might not last.

—————

I finally have an appointment for a neck x-ray Thursday the 13th, I hope they find something but not too ugly you know? Lower back building has been excruciatingly slow with lots of set backs and I miss crafting so much. It's a long car drive away in the heat but worth it for answers.

Yesterday's find was a Beurer multifunction hair iron, curler and crimper - I found the manual online and it's 125C to 160C which won't do for safely handling nylon and saran, a hair dryer and books so I cleaned it all and put it in the donation bag.

Maybe some day I'll be able to visit the thrift store when it's actually open 😁 my next challenge is to try the bus. I've had serious neck pain from small car trips as your core braces for shocks but that's the next big thing to try, something that could radically expand that 1km bubble.

There is also a project I've wanted to do for a very long time: parcels. If laposte weren't a disaster i'd have done it so long ago. I think it's time to try again though. It'll take a while to find everything and put it together but yeah.

I'm writing this in defiance of the dread that comes with these headaches and pain, goals might not be realistic but there's still a chance. We'll see tomorrow and the day after that.

[fruitgoat]

Sometimes I have to wonder just what my joints are trying to say.* I'm currently wearing two ankle braces and a knee brace. The good news is that braces/stabilizers mostly fix the problem (it's a chronic issue I've dealt with on and off for decades) and the better news is that my physical therapist will be here most of the weekend and is always willing to help out her sister.

*My joints are probably telling me that I need to do yoga again. My internal rotation can be a bit too good. I might be a Big Girl but I'm a bendy pretzel most of the time. (With extra salt. And cheese sauce. Obviously.)

[babyspacebatclone]

I blame human joints.

I actually have a point.

The human body’s ability to heal is, as previously noted in the development of the “Space Orc” designation, very terrifying. Injuries that would leave other Terran species waiting for death we just persevere through. Coupled with the human instinct to care for and support injured clan-mates during recovery?

Humans can, and do, spend a lot of our time getting on with our lives at sub-optimal functioning but with minimal efficiency loss.

For me, a lot of it is my ankles and other joints. A small twist? Opps, gotta limp for a bit, don’t worry it’s not swollen I’ll be fine trust me I know when I’ve actually reached “sprained.” Got my soft brace in my bag!

We’re trained from literally learning to walk that sometimes, things don’t work, try again! ok good news this is good enough!

Our existence is ambiguity; it’s no wonder we’re willing to set a relatively low bar for “functioning” for our technology

Humans tolerate a much greater amount of ambiguity in their technology than the other sapients. Take their computers for example. They are a class above everyone else's. They're smaller, faster, less expensive and can do more.

But, they crash. A lot. Leave it to the Humans to just accept a machine that will stop working "every once in a while."

Human: "Oh shoot"

Alien: "What?"

Human: "My phone crashed. Gotta reboot it, one sec"

Alien: "Your computer...crashed?"

Human: "Yeah, stopped working. Something went wrong with the computer inside and it just doesn't work. Once I turn it off and turn it back on it'll be fine"

Alien: "But, the computers in your other stuff are more robust right? They don't...do that?"

Human: "Hell yes they do. Let me tell you about the time I had to reboot my coffee maker so it would work again!"

Alien: "..."

Human: "Oh yeah, once the computer in my car crashed. Wouldn't display anything at all. That was a hairy ride!"

Alien: *unconsciously takes a step back*

Human: "Also! So when the first humans went to our moon, the onboard computer kept crashing. They had to land manually because the computer - when it worked - was trying to land them on jagged rocks! They all nearly died!"

Alien: "You do realize the other races' computers don't do that, right?"

Human: "But ours are faster"

[bionicsportmed]

Discover Relief and Support: Orthopaedic Braces in Oakville

1. Introduction to Orthopaedic Braces

Orthopaedic braces play a crucial role in providing relief and support to individuals with various musculoskeletal conditions and injuries. Whether it's a knee, ankle, back, or wrist, these braces are designed to stabilize, protect, and assist in the healing process. In Oakville, there are numerous orthopaedic brace options available to cater to specific needs. This article aims to explore the benefits of orthopaedic braces, the different types available, their mechanism of action, and how to choose the right brace for your requirements. We will also discuss how to find reputable brace providers in Oakville, address insurance coverage and financial considerations, and offer tips for the proper use and maintenance of these essential devices.

Discover Relief and Support: Orthopaedic Braces in Oakville

1. Introduction to Orthopaedic Braces

1.1 What are Orthopaedic Braces?

Orthopaedic braces are like the superheroes of the medical world, providing support and stability to injured joints and muscles. They come in various shapes and sizes, designed to fit specific body parts and aid in rehabilitation. From knee braces to wrist braces, these handy devices offer relief and support for a range of injuries.

1.2 History and Evolution of Orthopaedic Braces

Believe it or not, orthopaedic braces have been around for centuries. The ancient Egyptians were pioneers in utilizing splints made from wood, reeds, and leather to support broken bones. Fast-forward to today, and we have technologically advanced braces made from lightweight materials and equipped with adjustable straps and hinges. It's safe to say that orthopaedic braces have come a long way!

2. Understanding the Benefits of Orthopaedic Braces

2.1 Improved Stability and Support

Imagine having a trusty sidekick to keep you steady on your feet – that's what orthopaedic braces do! By providing external support to weakened or injured joints, they help improve stability and reduce the risk of further damage. Whether you're recovering from a sprained ankle or dealing with arthritis, these braces have your back (or rather, your ankle).

2.2 Pain Relief and Reduction of Inflammation

Who needs a magic wand when you have an orthopaedic brace? By applying gentle pressure and compression to the affected area, these braces help reduce pain and inflammation. It's like a soothing hug for your injured body part, providing relief and making the healing process a little more bearable.

2.3 Promoting Healing and Recovery

Orthopaedic braces act as your personal cheerleader, rooting for your body's natural healing abilities. By providing the right support and immobilization, they help promote proper alignment and prevent further damage. So, put on that brace and let it work its magic while you focus on getting back to your best self.

3. Types of Orthopaedic Braces Available in Oakville

3.1 Knee Braces

Whether you're an avid runner or simply dealing with a knee injury, knee braces are your new best friend. From mild support to heavy-duty stabilization, these braces offer a range of options to cater to your specific needs.

3.2 Ankle Braces

Sprained ankles are no match for ankle braces! These flexible and adjustable braces provide the perfect balance of support and mobility, allowing you to get back on your feet (quite literally) in no time.

3.3 Back Braces

Got a nagging backache? Say hello to back braces, the unsung heroes of lower back support. Whether you're dealing with muscle strains or a more serious condition, these braces offer relief by stabilizing your spine and reducing pressure on the affected area.

3.4 Wrist Braces

From typing all day to that intense game of tennis, our wrists go through a lot. Wrist braces provide that much-needed support to alleviate pain and prevent further injury. So, give your wrists a break and let these braces work their magic.

4. How Orthopaedic Braces Provide Relief and Support

4.1 Mechanism of Action

Think of orthopaedic braces as your very own bodyguards. They work by limiting the movement of injured joints or muscles, allowing them to rest and heal. With their strategic design and adjustable features, these braces provide targeted support exactly where you need it.

4.2 Supporting Injured Joints and Muscles

When it feels like your joints are staging a revolt, orthopaedic braces step in to restore order. By supporting weak or damaged joints and muscles, these braces help prevent further strain and minimize the risk of reinjury. It's like having a personal bodyguard for your joints!

4.3 Alleviating Pressure and Reducing Strain

Orthopaedic braces are the masters of stress relief. By distributing the load and reducing the pressure on injured areas, they help minimize pain and discomfort. So, whether you're dealing with a sports injury or chronic condition, these braces have your back (and knees, and ankles, and wrists).

In conclusion, orthopaedic braces offer a lifeline of support and relief for those dealing with injuries or chronic conditions. With their evolution over time, they have become indispensable tools in aiding healing and providing stability. So, the next time you need a little extra help for your joints or muscles, consider the superpowers of orthopaedic braces in Oakville. Your body will thank you!

5. Choosing the Right Orthopaedic Brace for Your Needs

Finding the perfect orthopaedic brace can feel like searching for a needle in a haystack. But fear not, because we're here to help you navigate the world of braces and find the one that suits your needs like a glove.

5.1 Consulting with a Healthcare Professional

Before embarking on your brace-seeking adventure, it's essential to consult with a healthcare professional. They can assess your condition, recommend the type of brace that will provide optimal support, and guide you through the decision-making process.

5.2 Considering the Condition and Severity of the Injury

Not all braces are created equal. They come in various shapes, sizes, and designs, each tailored to address specific injuries or conditions. Consider the type and severity of your injury when choosing a brace to ensure it offers the right level of support and protection.

5.3 Finding the Proper Fit and Size

Fit matters, especially when it comes to orthopaedic braces. A brace that is too tight can restrict movement, while one that is too loose won't provide the necessary support. Take accurate measurements and consult sizing charts to find the perfect fit for your body. And remember, just like with a pair of jeans, trying it on is the best way to ensure it feels right.

6. Finding Quality Orthopaedic Brace Providers in Oakville

So, you've decided to venture into the realm of orthopaedic braces in Oakville. But where can you find the best providers? Let us be your guide.

6.1 Researching Local Orthopaedic Clinics

Start by doing your research. Look for reputable orthopaedic clinics in Oakville, where you can find a wide range of braces to choose from. Check out their websites, read reviews from other customers, and get a sense of the services they offer.

6.2 Seeking Recommendations and Referrals

Word-of-mouth recommendation can be a goldmine of information. Talk to friends, family, or even your healthcare provider to see if they have any recommendations or referrals to trustworthy orthopaedic brace providers in Oakville. Personal experiences can often provide valuable insights.

6.3 Evaluating Provider Credentials and Experience

When it comes to your health, you want to ensure you're in good hands. Take the time to evaluate the credentials and experience of the orthopaedic brace providers you're considering. Look for certifications, qualifications, and a track record of success to give you confidence in your choice.

7. Insurance Coverage and Financial Considerations for Orthopaedic Braces

Orthopaedic braces can be a lifesaver, but they can also carry a hefty price tag. That's why understanding insurance coverage and exploring financial assistance options is crucial.

7.1 Understanding Insurance Policies and Coverage

Before diving headfirst into the world of orthopaedic braces, brush up on your insurance knowledge. Get familiar with your policy and understand what is covered, what requires pre-authorization, and any limitations or exclusions.

7.2 Exploring Financing Options and Assistance Programs

If insurance coverage falls short or isn't available to you, don't despair. There are often financing options and assistance programs available to help alleviate the financial burden. Explore payment plans, installment options, and organizations that offer support for medical expenses.

8. Tips for Properly Using and Maintaining Orthopaedic Braces

Congratulations! You've found the perfect orthopaedic brace. But remember, proper usage and maintenance are crucial for your brace to do its job effectively.

8.1 Following Manufacturer Instructions and Guidelines

No one knows a brace better than the people who made it. Follow the manufacturer's instructions and guidelines to ensure you're using the brace correctly. From wear time to cleaning instructions, they will provide you with the know-how to maximize the brace's benefits.

8.2 Ensuring Correct Application and Adjustment

Putting on a brace might seem like a no-brainer, but it's worth taking the time to learn the proper application and adjustment techniques. Improper placement or fit can hinder the brace's effectiveness, so consult with your healthcare professional or the brace provider to ensure it's properly positioned and adjusted for optimal support.

With these tips in mind, you're ready to embark on your journey to find the perfect orthopaedic brace in Oakville. Remember, support is just around the corner, waiting to help you rediscover relief and comfort.In conclusion, orthopaedic braces in Oakville provide a valuable solution for individuals seeking relief and support for their musculoskeletal conditions. By understanding the benefits of these braces, exploring the available types, and selecting the right brace for their needs, individuals can experience improved stability, reduced pain, and enhanced healing. It is essential to consult with healthcare professionals, research reputable providers, and consider insurance coverage and financial options to ensure accessibility. By following proper usage guidelines and maintenance tips, individuals can maximize the effectiveness and longevity of their orthopaedic braces. With the help of these braces, individuals can regain mobility, find comfort, and embark on their journey towards recovery and well-being.

FAQ

1. Are orthopaedic braces only for athletes?

Orthopaedic braces are not exclusively for athletes. While athletes often use braces to prevent injuries or provide support during physical activities, orthopaedic braces are suitable for anyone with musculoskeletal conditions or injuries. They can be beneficial for individuals of all ages and activity levels who require stability, pain relief, or assistance in the healing process.

2. Will wearing an orthopaedic brace weaken my muscles?

Wearing an orthopaedic brace does not necessarily weaken muscles. However, if a brace is used excessively and for an extended period, there is a possibility that the muscles supporting the injured area may become slightly weakened. It is important to consult with a healthcare professional to determine the appropriate duration and frequency of brace usage and to engage in complementary exercises or physical therapy to maintain muscle strength.

3. Can I wear an orthopaedic brace without a prescription?

In many cases, over-the-counter orthopaedic braces are available for purchase without a prescription. These braces are designed to provide general support and relief. However, for more specific or severe conditions, it is advisable to consult with a healthcare professional who can assess your needs and prescribe a custom-fitted brace tailored to your condition and body structure.

4. Can I wear an orthopaedic brace while exercising?

Yes, orthopaedic braces can often be worn during exercise to provide additional support, stability, and protection to the injured or vulnerable area. However, it is important to consult with a healthcare professional or a qualified trainer to ensure proper fitting, appropriate usage, and to determine any limitations or precautions that may be necessary during exercise with a brace.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 361

I went for my shoe fitting today, and next week I’ll get my new shoes. I’m so excited. There was a bit of nervousness in seeing what they looked like because I haven’t gotten a colour other than black in years. A large part of this has to do with the fact I only get boot style shoes. This is more of a safety thing for me than anything else.

The primary reason why I wear a brace and have boots is because of a weak ankle that will turn inwards. So I’m a bit of a hazard to myself.

But the really fun bit was spending time with my mom, since I needed a ride to the shoe fitter. Since it was early afternoon, my mom suggested lunch. We shared a pasta and a dessert at a franchise joint that we haven’t been to since Covid (probably). The dessert was great, but very Canadian seeing as it was an ice cream sandwich, but instead of cookies they used butter tarts. Still, it was great, and surprisingly not too sweet, 10/10 would do it again.

And we might do it again next week since I have to go pick up my shoes.

Anyways, we still had time to kill after lunch so mom suggested we wander around Homesense. To anyone who hasn’t been in a Homesense, or a shop similar to it, it is a place to fill your home with things both useful and decorative, which means it tends to be a weird catch all place to shop. A good place to shop if you need to buy a gift and don’t know what to buy the person in question. Mom, being my ever loving enabler, directed me to the arts and crafts section of the store.

They didn’t have the kind of crafting I did (and I already had some high quality notebooks I should use first), but I did see drawers. And then I remembered, I needed to buckle down and rearrange my crafting stuff because I had started shoving it into spare shipping boxes and then dumping them into my bookshelf. So I grabbed a drawer meant for art supplies but it was wide and deep enough for my washi tape. My mother, seeing this and delighted that I’m doing something that requires me to clean up, then directed me to this other drawer set. I hummed and hawed and decided yes, I needed this too and I will find a place for it.

I had spent 3 hours cleaning out my bookshelf, unplugging my printer, putting away CDs into a box that will probably get donated and then went about putting away all my art and craft items properly. I now have a drawer just for washi tape, a drawer just for stickers (which is a terrifying thing to say), and I now have a smaller drawer set for material paper… or… I’ll start collecting stamps and ink pads, that decision is kind of up in the air right now.

But at least now I have room, we’ll see how long that lasts.

Set Up Before Organizing

Set Up After Organizing

[weathernerdmando]

I think closing alone is doing some Not normal damage to my body but there's not much I can do about it. There's a reason I don't sweep/mop at close and it's not because I don't like to, its because it fucking hurts in ways it's not supposed to. And I did it 3 times in the past 7 days, 4 in the last 8 (tonight). And combine that with cleaning glass (which I'm fairly sure is wrecking my shoulders, and I'm 99% sure I at least overextended my right under muscles idk what they're called, it's the same pain I get when I overstretch my legs when skating. New location for that, apparently. :/) And I think I'm fucking up my joints/muscles/bodies far quicker than just working at this place with others would.

I need to start looking for a new job. This isn't sustainable long term if I keep having to close by myself. If one person could come in for literally just official close and help I'd be fine but nooo gotta have me do it alone. I get this is in the duties of shift lead if needed but fucking hell could we not have gotten the schedule figured out for this week even if last week was short notice??? I'll come in earlier if needed or swap shifts but fuck. I only have one knee brace and my left one is quickly getting worse despite being the better one because I have to brace the right one first. Because that one is much worse. And I can't find the ankle brace I bought to hopefully help bc I think some of it is related to that.

I don't even know what to do about my shoulders.

Fuck.

[healthworldhospitals]

Most likely, when you consider a sports medicine physician, you picture a medical practitioner who treats professional athletes. However, a sports medicine physician's duties go far beyond treating Olympians or professional players. A sports medicine physician can help anyone, including professional players, teenagers participating in sports, active persons of any age, and factory workers who suffer sports-related ailments.

The issue is when you ought to visit an orthopaedic sports medicine doctor. The top 5 reasons to schedule a sports medicine appointment with your doctor are discussed here, along with information on where to look for Northeast Ohio's top sports medicine specialists.

1 Seek Medical Attention for Sports Injuries

Sports injuries can occur at any time, regardless of your athletic prowess or alertness when doing a physically demanding profession. They are actually pretty prevalent. Sports or physically demanding jobs can easily result in injuries to joints like the knee, ankle, elbow, and shoulder. Therefore, you should schedule a visit with a sports medicine physician for the diagnosis and treatment of the injury if you suffer one during a sporting event. A sports medicine physician can efficiently identify and treat both recent and long-term injuries, such as

Fractures, Tendonitis, Sprains and strains, Tennis elbows, Golfers’ elbows, Knee bursitis, Achilles tendon tear, Rotator cuff tear, Arthritis

2 Ways to Hasten Your Injury Recovery

The worst-case scenario for an injury is to remain in bed. Therefore, if you have a musculoskeletal injury, you may desire to heal and get back to your activities more quickly. By avoiding muscle weakness and stiffness after an accident, a sports medicine specialist can speed up your recovery by cutting down on the time it takes for you to heal. They can assist you with creating a rehabilitation schedule;

braces or splints to support the afflicted area

Painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs

Exercises that increase the range of motion can help you flex or extend a damaged joint.

therapies for healing that include sound wave stimulation, massage, heat and cold therapy, and electric stimulation

stretching and strengthening activities, for example

3 To stop the injury from happening again

Some injuries can leave the area more prone to future harm. For instance, rotator cuff tears and golfer's elbow are two overuse injuries that frequently repeat in patients. So make a sports medicine doctor appointment if your injury reappears. Your rehabilitation and prevention program will be overseen by a sports medicine doctor to break the cycle of recurrent injuries.

4 To Increase Performance

Your athletic performance can be affected by a variety of factors, including a loss of strength, endurance, and general vitality, in addition to injuries, illnesses, and stress. A sports medicine physician can assist you if you wish to improve your performance. If you have decreased performance, a sports medicine doctor can thoroughly examine you and establish whether an underlying disease or infection, overtraining, a nutritional deficiency, or something else is to blame. They then create a plan and assist you in returning to 100% effort.

5 To Prevent Accidents

You can utilize the knowledge of a sports medicine doctor to determine whether you should start playing sports, trying a new workout, or going to the gym.

Your sports medicine specialist can also provide you with a conditioning and exercise regimen to help you stay fit. Your sports medicine specialist can provide you with a warm-up, stretching, and cool-down routines as well as advice on safety training, equipment, nutrition, and a healthy lifestyle to help you avoid injuries while participating in sports or other physical activity.

[mintmatcha]

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!

cw: depictions of SA and violence, age gap, homophobic slurs, spoilers for Mithrun's manga story.

Professor Cabras watches from his chair, crisp golden eyes unblinking as Mithrun enters his office. The younger man forces a smile, just as he always does. Despite being in his fifties, Cabras is dashing, with only the beginnings of gray in his temples and smile lines just beginning to cut his cheeks. The beginnings of his beard is all salt and pepper and Mithrun has to close his eyes to forget how it feels against his cheeks.

"Lock the door."

Mithrun's already turning the key when Cabras demands it. By now, he knows the drill.

"Dating" a professor certainly wasn't in his plans for senior year-- and certainly not a male professor. But Cabras had made him feel special, made him feel wanted, gave him a place to crash after the fraternity's parties that was nice and quiet. It filled him with this twisting, fluttering feeling he once thought was good, but had begun to curdle in his gut like milk.

Mithrun comes behind the desk and hesitantly places a hand on the professor's shoulder.

It's not that he never wanted this. Maybe he did at one point, back when it was fun and easy to say no.

"I heard the news." His hands cup behind Mithrun's thighs, drawing the younger man into his lap. Mithrun hates how his body reacts without his permission, how his cock twitches out of its slumber. "Yale's going to look so good on you."

Mithrun's stomach twists. Of course he already knows. Cabras is the one who called the school personally, who sang glowing reviews of Mithrun that he frankly didn't need.

Cabras runs his hands up and down his legs, trapping Mithrun in place like a leashed dog. The hallway is quiet; it's late, everyone's gone home. There's no one here to catch them, to see how Cabras digs his fingers into the soft of his ass-

"How am I going to live with you halfway across the country-?" he sighs. "You'll have to fly back just so I can taste you-"

"Don't." Mithrun leans back and braces against his desk. "We can't do this anymore."

"Mithrun." His voice isn't comforting. It's firm, demanding, like a father scolding his child.

"You're married." It's a lame excuse; his marriage didn't stop him from kissing Mithrun all those months ago, from whispering sweet nothings in his ears during late nights, from forcing his hand down Mithrun's pants after he wrote his recommendations- "and I'm a man."

"Oh, you stupid thing," Cabras coos as he stands, pinning Mithrun's body down to the finished oak. The younger man is strong, but Cabras is wide, thick-- too big to be shoved off. "That's not going to stop me from fucking you like a girl."

It's a shock to his system. Mithrun isn't feminine-- he's a frat guy, a sports fan, a playboy--

"Fuck- get off." He resorts to his first name. "Koza, get the fuck off of me, asshole. I'm not a fag-"

He struggles under the man's weight as those thick, awful hands press down on his shoulders, paw at the button of his jeans. The bristle of his beard against the crook of Mithrun's neck sends chilling down his spine, "Stop."

The professor's teeth close around his flesh and tug, much too sharp and mean to be fun. The stab of his canines rips a mangled sound from the boy's throat. Pain knocks him back and down-- more into the professor's hands. "Koza, I said stop-"

No matter how much he wants to fight, Mithrun can't seem to find strength in any of his limbs. It's like his body is locking at the joints, bracing for impact as Cabra's manages to pull his pants down to his ankles.

"I've given you everything you ever wanted." His voice is a growl. "Now, I'm going to take what I want."

His muscles aren't the only thing that's stiff. Despite how much he wills it to be different, his cock is hard, leaking against his stomach. Cabras shoves his own pants down and lets his own dick lay on top of Mithrun's. It's heavy and thick- things that no longer make Mithrun excited. It's embarrassing, shameful, wrong-- he doesn't like this, he doesn't want this-

"That's it." He's spreading Mithrun's legs, "Just lay there and take it like a good girl."

Rage is all that he needed to rise again. Mithrun throws his remaining strength into a wide left hook and manages to collide with the man's cheek. He thrashes like a toddler; all four limbs bunched and aimless, hoping for any fucking contact. Cabras reels back just out of his reach, hand over mouth.

"You ungrateful shit-" He takes his hand away. Half of his front tooth is in his palm, broken and bloodied. "I'm going to fucking kill you."

Then. he's on him again. There's a momentary struggle before Cabras gets his grip around Mithrun's face and slams him back down with his full strength and weight. Skull cracking against the hardwood desk, the ringing pain and bright flash of light almost mask the sickly, wet pop, but Mithrun hears it. His lungs won't pull in air, his mouth won't scream; he's stuck in a vacuum of silence as he realizes that the professor's thumb has accidentally dug into his orbital socket.

He knows, somehow, the eye is gone, and his other eye is reduced to nothing but dots and pinpricks.

The rest of the night is blurry. Pain is a global, full body thing, one that he can't pin down to one location. His body reacts on its own, his brain goes still. He doubts it's real at some moments, nothing more than an awful dream.

One of the only moments he can hold, is his attacker's mouth on his. Cabras sucks Mithrun's tongue into his mouth and, for a long, long second, Mithrun debates biting through it and freeing himself, but just can't find the nerve to go through with it. He's going to die anyway.

He wonders if this is how a lamb feels before the slaughter.

Mithrun loses consciousness with the taste of Cabras' cologne on his tongue: heady, thick, tobacco laced, and vanilla finished. He thinks, with eye fluid and blood in his mouth, that he's dying.

When he wakes up, he's in a hospital room. The nurses tell him the eye is gone and surgery might fix the internal damage. He tells them nothing, not even when his parents come and beg for him to speak, not when the police tell his he can press charges. No, he's sure this is all a dream, that this imaginary pit in his stomach is just that-- fake. This shroud that's settled into every pore of his skin will lift. Feeling will return. He'll stop throwing up in his mouth when he smells tobacco and Vanilla.

Yale never happens for him.

I WANT YOU TO WRITE THE MITHRUN SCENE. I’m gonna make like a long ass post describing each characters lore in the modern AU because like. I want to do a longform fic,,,,

You gimme so many good ideas you’re so based

EVERYONE PLS. IF YOU LIKE DUNGEON MESHI MODERN AU LETS ALL BE WEIRD AND FREAKISH.

hold on lemme get insane rq

[imaginedreamwrite]

Insatiable Habits: Part 4

“Again!” The order came as a strained yell, the heavy hit knocking you off your feet as he had come flying toward you. “Again!”

You huffed and rolled to the side, your hands becoming a bloody mess as you were forbidden gloves while you were training. You stumbled to your feet, the uneven gravel crunching beneath your boots as you stumbled to stand and face off against your opponent, shuddering at the feel of beads of blood rolling down your back.

“Weak.” Your opponent grunted and tilted his head to the left and the right, the pops and cracks of his neck were the least of your worries, yet they’d still sent a shiver down your spine.

“You call yourself a hunter, little girl? You won’t make it past 18.” You had grit your teeth then spat out the blood trapped in your mouth, the speckles of crimson red dusting the small gravel stones on the training yard.

“Pathetic bitch.” The boy who was twice your size and came toward you, his cocky attitude exuding like a toxic cloud as he clenched and relaxed his fingers. “You can’t do anything right, can you?”

“I said again!” The instructor had growled, his animosity for the lot of you spared on everyone except you. “You call yourself a hunter? You wanna carry your family legacy?”

“I’m gonna find you in the night,” the boy had grinned, and his eyes flashed with twisted amusement, “and I’m gonna taste that pretty mouth.”

“You talk too much.” You grounded your feet, dug in your heels then make your move.

He had made a motion to grab your ankle, and as he reached for you, he left himself open. You braced your palms against the gravel and swung your leg as you flipped over the end, the heel of your boot landing against his jaw.

There was a sickening crunch, the sound of bones breaking, followed by a pained scream. When you landed, you whipped yourself around, watching that same colour of crimson blood that had been trapped in your mouth start gushing from his nose.

“You whore!” He screamed and stalked toward you. “You virgin whore! You broke my fucking nose!”

“Enough, Elias! That is enough!” Your instructor had screamed at the boy that was coming toward you, his brown eyes dancing on the edge of onyx as he used one hand to clutch his nose and the other to reach for your arm.

“I am no whore.” You had blocked his blow and twisted his arm behind his back, putting pressure on the joint until he fell to his knees. “I’m a hunter, bitch.”

Your sharp exhale of air has been visible in the morning as the chilled wind ripped its way through the compound and cast an eeriness over the entire place. It was far colder than average, and the fall had seemed to arrive in a moment before vanishing as the hardy clutch of winter had come.

There may have been no snow, there may have been no visible sign of the fluffy white flakes ready to fall, but the air was telling. There was an underlying nip that hadn’t just made it hard to breathe; it had settled into your bones and stole every moment of warmth from you if you had focused on it enough.

As you had ventured further into the cold, you had desperately yanked up the collar of your jacket in an attempt to cover the bottom half of your ears where your toque had failed you before you shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat.

You were in desperate need of something warmer that would stave off the cold as winter settled further into the city. Although living in the compound was cheaper than living out, and being a hunter had paid well enough for you to survive, any extra funds you had would generally be out toward replenishing your supplies and keeping your stock of necessities up. For you to be able to afford a new jacket that was warm enough and protective enough, you would have to cut back on what you spent on supplies for your job.

Given a choice between a winter jacket and supplies that would and could save your life, you would much rather keep the thinning coat and be cold. You would much rather be alive and breathing than succumb to an attack because you didn’t have enough supplies.

Still, the air was frigid, and it sank into your bones like a heavy lead, holding onto that painful nip. It made you wonder, for a moment, if vampires were self-aware of how cold they were.

You wondered if they had known how freezing their alabaster skin was. If they had, did they care? There was so much you’d known about the creatures you were supposed to hunt; you’d come from a long line of hunters that he effectively not just survived but thrived.

You knew so much about the ins and outs of hunting, yet there was still so much to learn.

Like the hidden, secretive and private courting rituals of werewolves and vampires, the information was clutched close to their chest and hidden from public knowledge.

And whether vampires had been aware of their cold, dead but undead flesh.

All the knowledge you’d had, your family before you had about the creatures in the world that had remained a threat to humanity as a whole, was still only a tiny portion of what was out there. There were so many different creatures and habits, inner-workings that hadn’t been made public knowledge to humans and possibly never would be.

The courting process of vampires and werewolves alike were usually very private, and your only knowledge was that there was an exchange of particular gifts and objects that would start the process and would even mark the progression from the start to the marriage ceremonies/mating rituals, to the special anniversaries.

You had only known the surface of it all, the bare minimum that gave you enough knowledge to deny Andy the gift he had tried providing you. That would have started a process that would be hard to derail once it had begun.

The vampires were as secretive as they were deadly, and it took every available resource you had to dislodge as many figurative stones to start to crack down on the illegal blood clubs. These metaphorical stones you had been trying to turn over to get to the inner workings of the blood trade and unlawful consumption of unwilling human lifeblood had led you to a few clubs that were run legally, as Andy had said. However, every single one had turned you away.

“No humans allowed without the proper testing and sponsors from a vampire,” the first three had told you when you approached the nonchalant entrance, seeking to get access, “you come with an escort or a sire, and you’ll be turned away.”

“I just need to ask questions.” Your argument had risen, and so had your badge that proved you were an agency of hunters. This reputable office was responsible for protecting humanity and keeping the creatures in a state of homeostasis. “I need to get some information. I’m not going to get fed on-“

“No sire, no entrance.” This particular vampire had been kinder than the rest though he was still forceful with his decision. He had stood before the entrance of the blood club with his arms crossed over his chest and his golden eyes flashing in a warning as he dismissed you and drew his attention to a couple of humans behind you, with a sire towing behind.

“A sire.” You huffed and turned away, then shoved your hands in your worn jacket pocket, the icy wind whipping right through the material of your coat, chilling you down to the bone again. “A sire. Where the fuck am I going to get a sire?”

You asked yourself even though you knew exactly where you could find a vampire willing to help and that was essentially part of the problem. You knew exactly where you could find a ‘sire,’ and you knew he would be all too eager to help you. You knew that he would find some great and irritable pleasure in the act of going to a blood club with you hanging off his arm while you attempted to ask questions.

You knew that all you had to do was pick up the phone and call Andy, all you had to do was ask, and he would likely help you. The charming and sophisticated vampire would certainly attend one of these clubs with you, and you were equally sure that he would be well within the limits of a respectable vampire who only wanted to help. Yet, you wondered if you were ready to stoop to that level.

Were you so desperate for help that you would call Andy Barber and become a vampire chew toy for the night? Were you so desperate to prove yourself that you would willingly throw yourself into the arms of a vampire to find answers?

“Find a sire.” The vampire called behind you, his eyes boring into you as he drew his attention to the next guests waiting for entrance, his lips twitching when he heard you mumble a series of curses under your breath as you started stalking away from the third blood club you had tried to gain entrance to.

As you turned the corner, you had growled under your breath and slammed your back against the brick wall before you shoved your hand into your crossbody bag, searching for the card he had given you. When you had found the finely crafted business card tucked into a pocket for safety, you had pulled it out and turned it over, reading every word and then rereading them.

You were contemplating it. You were thinking about your options and the ability to access the buildings and knew that your chances would remain low to get into a legal blood club without his help.

“Dammit.” You had cursed yourself and switched the business card to the other hand, then reached for your cellphone.

You yanked it out of your bag and unlocked the device in your hand, and had dialled the first three numbers on the card before you stopped and lifted your head.

You had heard the gentle rumble of the engine before you saw the silver side of a sleek car driving through an alleyway across the street; the same distinct shape and unique model of the vehicle had matched the one you’d seen outside compound. You couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but from the look of the car as the streetlamp had cast its glow on the hood, you could safely assume it was the same car that had picked up the human.

You hummed under your breath and tapped the side of your phone with your finger, keeping the first three numbers dialled. You had kept your eyes trained on the car as the door opened, and a woman came beelining for the open door from an adjacent alleyway. She had looked ragged and withdrawn as she entered the vehicle, and there was a brief glimmer of relief as she sank into the seat and closed the door behind her.

You couldn’t see the person in the driver’s seat, the glow of the streetlamp obscuring him and the other half of the car; however, you could see the woman’s face light up with hope before the vehicle had been thrown into reverse and its entirety was cast back into darkness.

With the car you had recognized no longer in view, you turned your attention back to your phone in your hand, the screen locked out. You sighed and unlocked it once more, then finished dialling his number and holding the phone up to your ear as it began ringing.

** **

Andy had just finished the first call when there was a steady series of knocks on his office door that had stolen his attention away from the reports he was looking over. With a soft sigh, he had placed his hands against the edge of the desk and pushed his chair back before he stood from where he sat. He had begun walking around the dark stained maple and gold-trimmed desk when the scent of a familiar human had crept into his senses, and an incredible hunger had risen within him.

Despite just enjoying the taste of his usual order of blood, Andy had grown an irrevocable desire that was driven by the scent of you, of your blood rushing through your body. Before he had even opened the door, he had made a mental note to have a fresh bottle of his usual blood type delivered from the bar below to satiate his hunger once again.

“Mr. Barber-“ Andy had opened the door and cast his heady gaze upon you standing outside of his office with a look of annoyance and displeasure; the little markers that had been telling of your mood made his chest rumble with pride as he purred at the sight of you.

“Mate-“

“I am not your mate.” You had growled in return, your temper flaring as you reached for your bag that was held firmly in his staff members hands; the aged leather and canvas bag cracked from use, and he was quick to note that it was not the same bag you’d brought when you first met him.

“Give her things back.” His order was cordial, yet it was heeded immediately, and you were given all your items back. “Bring me a bottle of my usual.”

Andy had placed his hand upon the small of your back and had leaned in closer to you as he pushed the door closed, sealing the two of you inside. With his hand still resting against the small of your back, he had noted the distinctive continued appearance of goosebumps on your skin and had made his best judgement by the shape of your coat that you had been moving around the district all evening with a lacklustre coat.

“You said you required my help?” His purr had returned when he caught the dirty look you were giving him before you smacked his hand off your lower back and took a step away from him. “Your message sounded urgent.”

“Vampires in this fucking city,” you cursed and took three tiny breaths to calm yourself before you licked your lips and fiddled with the strap of your bag, “I cannot get access to any blood club-“

“Of course you can’t.” Andy had quipped as he moved back around his desk and sat down upon his chair once more, glancing at you as you stood across from him, your irritation peaking once more. “You need a sire or a sponsorship to enter a blood club. I’m sure you knew that.”

At your silence, Andy’s lips twitched, and he fought the urge to smile at you and how you looked so damn adorable and cross.

“Oh,” he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, “you didn’t know you needed a sire.”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here.” You gritted your teeth and reached for your bag, your fingers slipping inside.

“Is there something I can help you with, mate?” Andy enjoyed this interaction more than he anticipated, and he suspected you were growing more agitated the longer you stood there. “Would you like to sit, mate?”

“I am not your mate-“

“Your bottle, Mr. Barber.” The door had been opened, and one of his staff members had appeared again, bringing in a black bottle sealed with an iridescent silver seal. “Would the human-like anything?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Andy had fired back with ire, moving toward the bottle and swiping it from his employee.

“Human-“

“Her name,” Andy had snipped, his eyes darkening with annoyance, “is Y/N.”

His employee looked frightened and had cleared his throat and immediately rectified his error by mumbling the question, which had, nevertheless, ended in a denial. When his employee had left again, and the room was occupied only by himself and you, Andy had lifted the top of the bottle to his mouth and used his fangs to rip the lid off and spit it to the side.

“I need access to the blood clubs to ask questions. I’ve gotten nowhere. I tried three different clubs-“

“You need a sire, sweetheart.” Andy had lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long, deep swig of the blood that had squashed his thriving hunger with every drip that slipped down his throat.

“I don’t have a sire.” You countered with animosity. “Is there no way around having a sire or sponsorship?”

“Even if you could get into a blood club without a sire or a sponsorship, no one would talk to you without one. No one is going to look at you without some insurance.” Andy had carefully and languidly walked toward you, his tongue grazing his bottom lip as he tasted the last few drops of blood from his last gulp.

“Of fucking course.” Your temperament had yet to ease, and Andy had admired it.

“I can be your sire.” The hunger had started to creep back up.

“You are not turning me into one of you.” You had moved quicker than he anticipated and expected, though he hadn’t flinched when you had produced a hastily made stake from your bag.

“Put it away before you hurt yourself-“

“You arrogant asshole!” You stalked toward him, the stake still in your hand. “You are so condescending!”

Andy had grabbed your wrist that held the stake and yanked you toward him, spinning you before your bodies met. He saved you tightly against him with your back to his chest and used that strength against you to keep you temporarily complacent.

As you struggled against him, so blinded by your anger at him, Andy had trailed his lips against the side of your neck, his fangs barely grazing your flesh. The action made you freeze, and he had heard your heart rate spiking but not from fear. You were aroused by him, by the contact you had, and it was a moment that made him smirk into the slope of your neck.

“You would look so good with my mark on your neck.” Andy’s husky voice had you shivering against him. However, it was his hand and his fingers trailing beneath the material of your coat, and your sweater underneath that had you preening against him.

“I could be so good to you.” He hummed against you, the fight temporarily lost as he felt you, as he held you close to him. “You need my help. You need me. Let me be your sire.”

“I am not becoming one of you!” Your fight was back, and you had taken advantage of the size difference between you two and had managed to counter his size until you were able to slip from his embrace.

Andy had remained impressed by you, fixated in admiration. You were strong, capable, and made every portion and piece of him come to life.

“I know I need a sire or a sponsorship-“

“We can start by courting.” Andy’s lips had twitched. “It will be convincing enough for you to get access, and I will have the opportunity to show you how good you will have it with me, mate.”

He could see the turmoil. He could sense it as you lowered your arms and contemplated what you could do instead. He could see the gears of your brain turning just as quickly as he had expected.

“I promise I will do everything within my power to help you with your case. Anytime you need me, I will be there.”

“And what? I become your chew toy.”

“I’m not a mutt.” Andy had grown offended by the mere construct and accusation. However, it had quickly faded when you rolled your eyes and slipped your stake back into your bag.

“Fuck….” You dropped your head and mumbled obscenities under your breath before you rolled your shoulders back. “Fine. But only because I have no other options.”

“You sound so disappointed, honey.” Andy crooned as he had moved back to his desk and pulled open a drawer on the right side of his desk, and removed a black box from within that he held tenderly. “This is for you.”

“For me..?” You eyed the box suspiciously, yanking it from him when he handed it out to you.

“This is will keep you safe-“

“it’s a collar.” You deadpanned, your eyes slowly narrowing as your jaw clenched.

“It is a courtship gift,” Andy countered and lifted it from the box, studying the emerald green velvet choker necklace with an embellished crest on the front, “it will prevent other vampires from sinking their teeth into your pretty little neck.”

“I swear to God,” you reached for it, and he pulled it out of your way, “if you try any sneaky vampire marriage ritual stuff, I’ll drive a stake into your heart so fast-“

“Relax little jewel.” Andy had turned you slowly and slipped the soft collar around your neck and secured the clasp in the back, his fingers tracing the edges as he studied you with deepening affection. “That is a long way off. Let’s tackle the blood clubs first.”

“Fine.” You yanked yourself out of his grip. “Next Friday.”

“Not tomorrow?” Andy preened, then immediately blanched when you next spoke.

“Can’t. I have a date with a werewolf.”

[perplexingluciddreams]

Had another appointment today with the doctors over video. It went well, I feel like things are finally starting to happen.

They were also really great about asking the right questions without taking too long in the appointment. I do have very bad fatigue and symptoms (PEM - post exertional malaise) always after appointments, but in order to get the support I need, it is necessary.

The things we (my dad and I- my dad did the talking for me today instead of my mum) discussed with the doctors were:

Loss of speech and fine motor control, is it autistic catatonia? They said they would speak to a psychiatrist about it and see if I can get an appointment with her to discuss further. Also the “freezing” or “getting stuck” and I’ve had some motor tics recently which may all be connected.

We talked about the new medication (gabapentin) and we’re still upping the dose slowly, I’ve not had any negative side-effects at all so that’s really positive (especially with my history of how I react to medication).

My partially dislocated thumb joint, and how painful it is.

Overall pain levels and worsening health, weakness, pain, etc.

Hypermobility and how it can cause stiffness and muscle pain- when stabilising muscles are weak, active/movement muscles may reflexively be triggered to contract. I believe some (not all) of my muscle pain is due to this. Especially with my level of inactivity due to being mostly bedbound.

But I also asked about getting more “structured support”, for example postural support for sitting, braces for walking - my ankle and knee joints have been incredibly unstable for a long time and I’ve been saying for ages that leg braces (like AFOs or something similar) would help me so much. They took that into account and made a note of it.

We also bought some aids for around the house to help me move around more safely. So far we have two suction handles for the bath, and we have ordered a pressure cushion (for less pressure and pain when spending long periods sat - propped up - in bed without moving), a frame with handles for around the toilet, and we’re trying to find a suitable bed-rail-support-handle-thingy to help me safely get in and out of bed without sliding onto the floor or hurting myself.

The amazing doctors (well, doctor and nurse- from psychology/psychiatry- they’re basically being a liaison for us with every part of my care team) said they’d been in touch with my main doctor (rheumatologist) who has spoken to an occupational therapist who should call us very soon to work out more aids and supports for around the house especially.

Dysphoria and how it’s very difficult never knowing if my health is going to be good enough to transition.

Overall I’m very happy with the result of this appointment. Things seem like they’re actually getting going, finally! Of course not everything is ideal, especially with the inaccessible house and my desperate need for a powerchair that I’m going to have to wait a long time for (and my still rapidly worsening health), but I’m feeling much more hopeful knowing that small things are going to happen that will make a slight difference to my quality of life.

((I also used my AAC device in the appointment and I am proud of myself because I think I communicated very well)) :D