#my brain has not supplied any further context for this

[whathehonestfuk]

"Ive dreamt about this before" Steve mentioned off hand as he began wetting down eddies hair

"What having me wet naked and at your mercy?" Eddie jokes clearly trying to cover up the general uncomfort from the situation of needing help showering.

"No in those I'm usually the one at your mercy" Steve answers casually, immediately forcing Eddie to untwist from where he had tried to look at Steve at shock at the statement "I was talking about your hair, its nice but it would be so pretty if you took care of it" he continued as if he hadn't just admitted to fantasizing about being at eddies mercy.

"Time to make your dreams come true big boy"

[aealzx]

“Uhm… Yes?...Why?” Don responded, taken a little off guard by the question. They were already borrowing the infirmary weren’t they? Donnie and Lil Mikey were going to stay the rest of the night at least. Leatherhead was already settling Donnie back into the bed he’d been in before, and Raphael was trying to lead Leon over to the other bed for Lil Mikey to sleep on.

But Leon was apparently distracted by something else, leaning away from Raphael halfway and slow to respond. “You have intravenous antibiotics, yeah?” he asked, a mix of feeling rushed and excited making his speech faster as he eventually obeyed Raphael's mildly frustrated coaxing and carefully rested Lil Mikey on the mattress. “And two metal plates, about this big, and screws?” Leon followed up, holding his hands up a short distance apart and then a certain thickness.

The questions immediately caused Don’s mind to start listing possible uses in the context he was given. Injuries that would warrant metal plates, screws and antibiotics filtering into his head as he narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Yes, of course. Why?” Don confirmed and repeated his own question with a little more emphasis, restraining himself from grabbing Leon to check him over. It couldn’t be any of them that were currently there that were injured. The only thing Don could think of was a severe fracture, and if that was the case he didn’t think Leon would be moving as easily as he was.

But luckily Leon answered the question of who without the need of further interrogation.

“My brother has an open compound fractured tibia and fibula. Let me go get him, I’ll be right back.” Leon’s answer came as a rush of syllables accentuated by one of the swirling blue discs opening up next to him. Don flinched back slightly at the revelation, and Raphael was more caught off guard by the portal. The kid hadn’t even moved for that to appear. It was a little disconcerting since they still weren’t quite sure what they did exactly. Before the others could fully register what was going on Leon had slipped through the portal, mask tails nearly being caught by the closing gateway.

Being left in silence, Raphael mentally repeated in his mind what Leon had said. He understood most of it, but he wasn’t familiar enough with the names of bones to know which ones the tibia and fibula were. Something in the leg? Or was it the arm? They sounded familiar enough for him to think they were in one of the more external limbs. Looking over to Don for clarification and possible direction, Raphael let out a smothered snort of amusement. Don’s hands had remained frozen in the air where he’d reached out on reflex, and his expression betrayed his disbelief in what he’d just been told. The revelation caused stress to build to the point it bubbled over in the form of a higher pitched whine slowly escaping his form while his fingers flexed.

“Easy there Doctor Don. We don’t want to scare the kid off now that he’s finally started to trust us,” Raphael cautioned with a mild chuckle, recognizing Don’s mental restraint barely keeping him from chasing Leon down. Speaking up only caused Don to redirect his stress at him though.

“Hhhhhhhhh Raph you can not tell me to take it easy after being told the last one of them has a bone sticking out of his leg! if they’re not back in four hours I’m tracking them and getting them myself, and I make no promises on the four hours,” Don rambled, grabbing Raphael’s shoulders and lightly shaking him in distress.

Raphael could only chuckle, reaching up to still Don’s hands and keep him from shaking his brains up too much as Leo and Master Splinter moved closer. “Then I guess you should keep yourself busy getting the supplies you’ll need?” he suggested. Anything to keep his brother occupied and not giving someone a headache.

“...Duh,” Don huffed, giving Rahael an incredulous squint before breaking away to scurry towards the cabinets. The least he could do was make sure they had everything where Leon and he could easily get to it.

“What’s going on?” Leo asked, having heard pieces of the conversation but not actively followed it. He had a relatively clear guess on what the problem was with Don, but he preferred getting clarification before causing issues out of ignorant guesses.

“Remember when your bone was sticking outta your arm?” Raphael asked, raising his own arm and pointing at it.

“...Yeah?” Leo confirmed, reflexively glancing at the scar running down the length of his arm in memory.

“The kid Leo says his brother has the same thing, and went to get him. Obviously that got Don all worked up,” Raphael explained, jerking a thumb at their brother pilling medical supplies on the rolling surgical tray near the table.

Leo’s brows raised in mild surprise before furrowing in concern. He had been quite distracted when his own arm had been broken, for obvious reasons. But he still remembered Don being just as frantic. Paranoid about bone infection, or being able to properly stabilize it without doing further damage, or preventing it from healing properly. Honestly Leo still thought Don had done an amazing job with it, as always, considering he didn’t notice it anymore. And yet the memories just added yet another thing to the list to explain why Leon had been so upset earlier. “..Did he say anything about needing transport?” Leo asked, tone a little more sullen than before. He was starting to regret the way he’d reacted towards Leon’s actions. They were the wrong actions to take, but Leo was starting to find it hard to hold anything against Leon now.

“Nah. I think he can teleport just fine. Like he was doing when he got here,” Raphael admitted with a shrug. “Don gave him four hours, but I bet he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Then let’s make sure we’re ready for them,” Leo directed firmly, moving around Raphael to head towards Don to see if he could help with anything.

Raphael watched Leo go and could only huff in amusement as he folded his arms. “Took him long enough,” he mused, lowering his gaze down to Master Splinter as he stepped next to him.

“Leonardo has always had difficulty thinking clearly when the safety of his family is in question. A trait he has come to manage as he’s gotten older, but also one that I have never faulted him for,” Master Splinter mused with a smile, looking fondly after his boys. Then his gaze shifted, a knowing smile as he looked up to meet Raphael’s eyes. “It would seem this young, other dimension version of my son has the same trait. And you, my son, have gotten much better at recognizing the motivations behind others’ actions.”

Raphael had to snort in mild embarrassment at the compliment, shifting his weight and shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. “Wasn’t hard. It was written all over his face. Don saw it too,” he brushed off despite forcing down the grin tugging his mouth.

Master Splinter could only chuckle softly, but was unable to add more to the conversation as yet another blue portal swirled into the room in practically the same spot as before. Raphael stepped back to fully face it, and had to chuckle in mild triumph. “See? Just a few minutes.”

—---

 As time crept on at an agonizing pace in the still darkness, April was finding she hated that she’d agreed to wait until noon to look for Leon. It wasn’t only that she was worried about him, but she missed having him there for company in this empty place. Of course having Raph in her lap brought some comfort, for she wasn’t truly alone. But her back was bare other than a light blanket, and she trusted Leon’s medical expertise way more than her own. She wanted her brother’s weight on her back, and his encyclopedia brain ready to address their needs. But she also wanted all four of her brothers there too. Which was the only thing that kept her where she was, staring at the map on her phone as it showed Leon chasing around the city, trying to find their little brothers. Part of April wanted to help look, but she didn’t know how she could. Leon was definitely able to move around way faster than she ever could. And she knew the best help she could give was to stay there and look after Raph. He didn’t handle being alone in a foreign place well at all even when he was healthy. So she had to be there to keep him calm. But his current state wasn’t doing much in the way of keeping her calm.

Thirty minutes after Leon had left Raph had woken up again, asking almost immediately where Leon had gone. Noting how disoriented Raph seemed to be, April had made up the excuse that Leon had gone to the bathroom. Partly because she didn’t want Raph to try and get up, but also because she didn’t want to add any more stress to her biggest little brother even if he behaved and remained laying down. She just knew he would start imagining all the wrong scenarios in his overprotective mind. Probably start talking aloud that everything was fine to reassure himself. Get fidgety, want to check outside, and otherwise just not relax and rest like he needed to. He needed all the rest and care he could get.

When they had settled down in this room Raph had looked relatively okay despite the pain from his broken bones. Just a clenched jaw and furrowed brow behind his bright red mask. But now those rich green cheeks were flushed red, and his forehead was damp from sweat instead of the rain. April knew the signs of fever in all of her brothers, and even without a thermometer she could tell Raph’s temperature was creeping up. Leon had anticipated it, and had already given him a fever reducer that he’d had stolen while gathering supplies. But they weren’t exactly in the best circumstances. The tarp on the floor wasn’t that comfortable. The blankets weren’t that thick. And their sanitized bubble of space wasn’t impenetrable. They needed antibiotics, and a proper bed at the very least. As soon as Raph had shivered once April had wiggled out from under him to crank up their space heater. Then her own blanket was tossed over him before she slipped his bandana off so his face didn’t overheat.

Two hours after Leon had left April couldn’t bring herself to make up another excuse when Raph opened his eyes again amidst her absently rubbing his head. His right eye was always slightly unfocused after the damage it’d sustained from the Krang, but now even his left eye was finding it difficult to register where April was in the dark. Yet despite that it didn’t take much effort at all for him to notice Leon still wasn’t there.

“... Wh’rs Leo now?” Raph asked, slightly mumbled from exhaustion and fever haze. He sounded a little grumpy, but April knew it was just his worry creeping up into his sleepy mumbles.

“...He went to get Donnie and Mikey,” April relented this time, not willing to lie to Raph a third time and shifting her phone so that he could see the screen as well. Leon’s icon had come to a stop with the other two, and April kept telling herself it was because he’d finally located them, and was just taking care of them or something. Checking their physical and mental wellbeing. Catching them up on what had happened. Making sure no one saw them. The usual. His vitals had had a spike in heart rate at one point, but it was calm now. As were Donnie’s and Lil Mikey’s. So they had to be fine. Right?

“...What?” Raph almost wheezed, shifting to sit up and grinding his teeth when even twitching his leg sent stabbing waves of pain up it. 

“Easy there, big guy,” April protested, placing a hand gently on Raph’s chest, pressing lightly to direct him to lay back down.

After halting his movements and giving a slight hiss, Raph looked back to April with a slight squint. “Why didn’t he wake Raph? I should be helping him get the others-”

“You know you’re not in any condition to be moving around,” April interrupted quietly, but firmly. “Don’t make me lecture you. We agreed after the Krang that no one would be doing anymore self sacrifice bull crap, remember? That includes forcing yourself to do what you physically or mentally shouldn’t when there isn’t immediate danger.” Her scolding felt shallow, but the conviction was still there under the sleep worn exterior. No more hiding injuries. No more getting seriously hurt to save others. They were to include themselves when it came to protecting who needed it most.

At first Raph wanted to be belligerent towards April. It was his job to look after his brothers. He was the oldest. It had always been that way. Especially if they were in an unfamiliar place like they were now. If he’d heard Leon correctly, they were apparently in an alternate dimension. And while Raph was probably the least scientifically inclined of them, he’d seen enough sci-fi stories to know what that meant. This was probably the most unfamiliar place they could get. He wanted to be there for his brothers. Not only to rescue Donnie and Lil Mikey, but also to be there to support Leon. But hearing April remind him of their agreement deflated his stubbornness almost instantaneously. He knew he could move on his own if he had to. His ninpo apparition would make it easier to not use his leg. But he didn’t need to move right then. As far as they knew, he was the most injured. So it was his job to behave and not worry the others. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t also just want to curl up and cry whenever he did move his leg. It was worse than when his shell had been broken.

Seeing Raph almost deflate into obedience, April let out a breath in a tired sigh and returned to rubbing his head. “There you go,” she complimented, grateful for his choice. “He said to wait until noon, and if he wasn’t back here by then to come looking for him,” she added, just so Raph knew they had a plan other than sit and wait endlessly. 

She sounded so tired. And that, combined with everything else caused Raph to let out a small whimper as he shifted to wrap his arms around back around April. “...Okay… Raph will wait,” he agreed quietly, silently wondering what he could do for April in turn. He couldn’t imagine she was comfortable waiting in the dark on her own. So this time Raph stubbornly didn’t let himself fall back to sleep, staying curled around April as they gave each other comfort in the dark. It was hard to pass the time in silence, and unfortunately Raph’s brain felt a little more fuzzy than usual. He didn’t think talking about the others would help either, he knew it wouldn’t help him stay calm. So he ended up pulling himself to other, way less important thoughts. “....Do you think they have Jupiter Jim in this dimension?” 

April couldn’t help snorting at the seemingly random question. But she found the topic was actually incredibly calming. “If they don’t I’m gonna be extremely disappointed,” shifting her attention to her phone with the thought to search for it on the internet. Seeing the tracking screen again though, she paused before looking back to Raph. “Do you have your phone? I’m not sure how to get back into this screen if I exit,” she admitted with a slight grimace.

“Yeah, I still have it,” Raph nodded, moving his hand from his hug just long enough to get his phone from his shell and pass it to April after unlocking it.

Quietly tapping the franchise name into a search engine, April ended up scoffing. “Whaaat? Nothing came up? Okay this dimension officially sucks now. What about your dad, are there any of his movies?” she huffed, immediately switching to the next curiosity.

Raph had to snort at her choice of search, and furrowed his brow. “... I dunno. We’re kind of an oddity…” he mused. He and his brothers were decidedly created by someone, not just a common species. He wasn’t sure how that would factor into consistencies between dimensions if something like Jupiter Jim wasn’t there.

“Euh, you’re right. Nothing came up for his movies either. Laaaaame,” April groaned, rolling her eyes.

Raph could feel the tension slipping out of her frame as she excitedly began looking up other things that were familiar to them. The Nexus Hotel wasn’t there, but surprisingly there was still a pizza chain called Lou Mike Tony’s Pizzeria. The two ended up excitedly making a note to try and get some once everything calmed down so they could compare. It made the next hour much more bearable, and they ended up slightly startled when a familiar blue portal whisked into view near them, momentarily illuminating the room as Leon slipped through before it closed.

“April!- Raph!” Leon blurted when he saw them, including Raph when he saw his big brother was awake this time and had jerked his head to look at him.

“Leo!- GAhhkk” Raph called, his attempt to sit up and greet his brother interrupted by another fierce pain firing up his leg.

“Woah there. Take it easy,” Leon cautioned, rushing over to crouch next to Raph and offer support. Even in the dark it only took him seconds to notice Raph’s flushed cheeks, and a brief expression of worry flashed over Leon’s features as he reached up a hand to Raph’s forehead. “Sss… okay, bit higher than expected…,” Leon hissed more to himself, eyes flicking down to Donnie’s wrist computer on his own arm and swiping the screen over to the vitals. 38.7 degrees celsius for Raph. Not horrible, but not good either. Leon knew they wouldn’t be able to avoid a fever, but he’d been hoping he’d have more time than this. At least he had a good place to take Raph and April too now though.

“Did you find Donnie and Mikey?!” April rushed while Leon checked the wrist screen, wedging next to Raph’s side to act as a prop to hold him if needed and handing his phone back to him. She could see Leon checking all of their vitals, so she knew she didn’t have to tell him about changes in Raph’s condition.

“Yeah!” Leon chirped, a bright smile returning to his features as he looked up to them. “They’re okay- Well, they’re a little banged up, but they’re already taken care of and sleeping. These really great guys from this dimension that are probably pretty much us already found them and took care of them,” he rambled, unable to sit still in his eagerness to get back. “They’re also gonna let me borrow their hella cool infirmary to fix up Raph! April you should see it! It’s like a whole hospital crammed into one room! They even have an MRI machine! At least I think that’s what it was….”

April listened to Leon in mild disbelief, what she was hearing conflicting with what she and Raph had thought more than half an hour ago. “Hold up-,” she paused, raising her hand, palm open. “They have the best ninja turtles ever in this dimension too, but no Lou Jitsu?”

“They don’t have Lou Jitsu here?” Leon repeated, looking borderline offended. “Wow, that sucks. Though I guess it makes sense. Their dad is kinda…. Weird. So quiet and…regal? I dunno. I feel like he’s one of those old dudes that just sits and drinks tea all day,” he mused, scrunching his nose slightly. He didn’t think he’d like not being able to roughhouse with and tease his dad. But that was a topic for later, and he pushed it aside in his mind as he addressed Raph again, leaving April to try and configure an image in her mind of this other version of their dad.

“We’re going to have to move you again Raph. Think you can handle it? I’ll try to make the distance as short as possible,” Leon informed apologetically, shifting around to crouch and wiggle underneath Raph’s arm on the opposite side of April.

“Are we going where Dee and Mikey are?” Raph asked, unable to resist giving Leon a little squeeze hug once he was squished under his arm.

“Yup! They’ll be in the same room. But we’re going to fix your leg before letting you join them, okay?” Leon confirmed after giving a small wheeze squeak and laugh at being squished.

Seeing Leon in such a good mood compared to the last time he saw him, Raph realized wherever they were going it was apparently safe enough for Leon to want to be there. And that was enough to reassure Raph that all of them would probably be alright. “Okay, let’s get going then,” Raph nodded, realizing they needed to get moving before the relief Leon brought washed away all resistance he had to the desire to lay back down. Shifting to help Leon and April lift him to his feet, Raph bit back almost all of his whimpers as the trio heaved the group up as carefully as they could. “Easy. Gently. Sorry,” Leon chattered uneasily, pushing back the heartache bubbling up in his chest. “Don’t put any weight on your leg at all okay?” Leon ordered just in case Raph forgot or wasn’t thinking about it, and adjusted his own position to try and take all of Raph’s weight off his broken leg. He wished he had a better way to move them, but portal dropping him onto the surgery table was risky as well as too jarring. So he just had to keep his heart in his chest, forcing himself to be steady as every noise from Raph made him want to stop moving completely, and gradually help them make their way through the new portal he opened.

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Iiiiii struggled so freaking hard with this one ;v; Not only because I just couldn't get words to work to give this part the attention I wanted (it's barely acceptable now), but I've been working on a massive collab image, and then also got super distracted by a game's story |DDD oops.

you for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy the Raph snuggles =7=

[venusmage]

FAQ Post!

I've gotten a good amount of repeat questions the past few years and thought I'd make an FAQ. No need to RB or anything, this is going to go in my pinned post!

I still always happily will take questions, this is just for folks who might want to just find the answer without going through the extra effort. These are mostly about art and TTRPGs :)

ART STUFF

What brushes/programs/hardware do you use?

Almost all of my regularly used brushes come from either Retro Supply or True Grit Texture Supply! I'm not sponsored or affiliated, just really like the quality of their products. They have sales fairly frequently and I've never had any complaints. I also use quite a few products by Ittai Manero.

Right now I primarily work in Procreate on an iPad Pro. Procreate is my favorite art program and I'm quietly hoping they eventually make a desktop version.

I very recently also got an XPPen Deco 01 V2. Partially because there's some art programs on desktop I want to learn (Aseprite, Blender) or programs that have superior desktop versions as compared to mobile (ClipStudio). I'm also teaching some grade-schoolers digital art and wanted to have the same kind of tablet as them (I haven't used a screenless tablet for over half a decade). As of right now I'm very happy with it! For the price it's an easy recommendation.

I mainly use ClipStudio in this instance, and the brushes linked above both also support the program (aside from Manero). However there's a huge user-base that upload free assets constantly that makes ClipStudio so great. I especially like painting in it for some reason!

What's your opinion on AI art?

I don't like it, obviously, but I get how people who lack the context and education on why it's bad wouldn't get it. I also think that some other artists fearmonger a little too hard regarding it and it has the unintended effect of making the situation and it's nuances even harder to understand. I talked about it here.

Did you go to art school? Would you recommend it?

I did, I have a BFA in illustration and graduated from CCAD in 2018. Every art school is unique and my experience with art school and the benefit it gave me is VERY different from how I believe it may be for others. As of right now I think there's a lot of good cheaper online resources than private art education in general. I did have a wonderful time there though, and it's availability helped me eventually escape a domestic abuse situation - so my feelings are a bit complicated.

Do you have a dream art job?

I'd love to be a college-level art teacher. Funny I know, considering I just said art school isn't always worth it. I just deeply enjoy the craft and discussion surrounding art in general. I'm tempted to make art videos one day to scratch that itch.

What's your favorite/least favorite part of the drawing process?

I hate sitting down and getting the sketch started (hello ADHD...) And flatting. Linework/sketch cleanup and finishing details for color are where it's at for me.

What made you interested in art?

My grandfather was a painter, sculptor, and stained glass maker. He will always be one of my biggest inspirations. In terms of media, there's a ton - but I started internalizing art as a skill after seeing the Shivering Isles DLC concept art by Adam Adamowicz. I started appreciating how art can be weird and beautiful and whatever you want after reading Evan Dahm's Rice Boy (and the rest of his work). I also had a particularly beautiful book cover for A Wrinkle in Time by Leo and Diane Dillon when I was little and their art rewired my brain chemistry. At the time I said Adamowicz was my most impactful inspiration but on reflection I really do think it's the Dillons. I talked a little about it here.

(2023-24) Commissions haven't been updated in a while. Can I get some more information as to why?

I have a post here about it! If you're one of my clients, please feel free to reach out to me if you have any further issues. I apologize for the delay and am more than happy to work out something with you if you're unhappy with the wait. I'd advise messaging me here or on discord - the latter of which is linked in the post.

TTRPG/DND STUFF

What system is your DnD game running?

I'm running my game using a modified 5e ruleset. 5e happened to just be the first TTRPG system I learned and I also really enjoy Forgotten Realms as a setting - though I take extensive liberties with both. I'll probably be moving away from WoTC's products and the system after this campaign, though. I already change lore so much the setting has a lot of differences.

What materials do you use in your DnD game? Do you play online or in person?

As much as I'd adore to get to play IRL with my friends at some point, our game is currently online. For our current campaign I recently made the switch from Roll20 to Foundry VTT. If you're an online exclusive DM and have the money to buy the one time license, I would recommend it!

A list of what I use to run my current game:

Foundry VTT

Discord (A custom server for Voice Chatting/Private DMs/Memes and art sharing/Scheduling)

Epic Isometric (On Patreon. Digital isometric maps and tokens. Have been using them since at least 2020 if not earlier. Will be making tutorial videos soon!)

The Dungeon Sketcher (Also on Patreon. Also isometric maps and tokens. The artist frequents Epic Isometric's discord server where we all share custom assets we've made, too. His stuff blends in pretty seamlessly with EpicIso)

Vile Tiles by Gabriel Pickard (Found on the Roll20 marketplace, but you can use the assets in any VTT. For theater of the mind and RP backgrounds)

Artstation (Our game is not streamed, so I tend to use backgrounds I source from concept artists for RP backgrounds. If you stream a game, obviously always ask the creators of your assets if you can use them.)

Procreate/An art program (I draw the PC/NPC portraits for our game myself)

Milanote/Any note-taking method (Milanote is just what I use to plan the game, since I already use it for other hobbies and commissions as well.)

Do you stream your game? Is there someplace I can find out more about it? Are you looking for players?

I am not looking for players! Our game is also not recorded or streamed - mostly because I'd get some serious DM stage-fright. I also like it being a relaxing experience for myself and my friends where we're performing for ourselves, instead of with the pressure of a potential audience.

However, I do have a toyhou.se world where information on the game is available - including session recaps! If I ever get the time I also want to draw fun comics and little animations of what happens because my friends are very inspiring to me and DMing has quickly become a favorite hobby.

You can also search the words "Seven Asunder" on this blog and you'll find relevant posts here.

Can I use your art/assets/ideas in my own game?

I can't really stop you. If it's not recorded, streamed or monetized and you're not saying you created anything I made yourself, I legitimately don't care! This even includes using character art I've made. I just would like to politely request you don't post any of it publicly to avoid confusion and to respect my players - many of the NPCs in my games are also characters they create and I cannot give permission for them (obviously). It also would kind of suck to see one of my own beloved characters supposedly "belonging" to someone else.

Essentially, I understand taking inspiration and having "placeholder" images/artwork for characters in a game. Not all of us have time or resources to have custom art! Just don't take one of my or my players' OC's designs and start saying they're yours publicly , pretty please :)

Once commissions are over and I find the spare time, I intend to release free-to-use (personally and for streaming) art packs for folks' games. I also highly recommend the patreons I linked above.

[sweettoothedtrickster13]

How to Start a Commonplace Book

Since I have zero desire to start a YouTube channel or a separate website blog, I guess I'll throw this here.

What is a commonplace book?

It's a simple question with a different answer from anyone who keeps one and/or knows what it even is. In very basic terms, a commonplace book is a physical book where you write down quotes you find interesting. That's the extent of what some people do, but I say take it a step further. Add your thoughts on the quote. This helps in a few ways- it helps put the quote in context in your life, and it trains your brain to really think about what you find interesting.

Why a physical book?

There have been tons of studies about handwriting vs typing, but really I can only give you my own experience. I really like the act of writing longhand. It helps cement things in my memory and gives me an actual record of my life. I can look through old notebooks and see what was important to me at that time in my life.

Another reason I think a physical commonplace works better is that it takes time. And that's the point. Re-writing a quote and then your thoughts forces you to slow down and examine yourself to see why you react the way you do. And slowing down in this age of super-fast information is something I think most people would benefit from.

How do I keep one?

Take a notebook- any one will do- and a pen. It doesn't matter if you choose a super fancy $300 notebook and a fountain pen, or a composition book and a ballpoint pen. If you want some cheap options until you find out if you even like the process, I suggest hitting up your local school supply store and getting the cheapest notebook and box of pens you can find. I prefer black ink, but you do you. I like Bic ultra round stick grip pens, but again you do you. The best pen I've come across is the click pen I got for free when I voted. So really any pen will do. You might have to experiment a bit to figure out exactly what you like as you go along. If you want some other advice, I recommend checking out this post. Fair warning, I haven't checked out the brands listed because I have a truly ungodly amount of unfinished notebooks hanging around.

Then you need a source to pull quotes from. You can use books, podcasts, youtube videos, friends, family, countrymen, movies, TV shows. Anything that strikes your fancy and contains quotes that resonate with you in some way. Don't worry about if it isn't 'scholarly' or 'high brow' enough*. I've had quotes from children's cartoons stick with me.

*and 'enough' is really a stupid term because really it only has to matter to you. Fuck everyone else, they shouldn't matter in terms of how you judge yourself. If you like it, that's reason enough.

Why should I keep one?

Expressing any thoughts to yourself and self-examination is a hard process but a worthy one. Only through self-examination will you figure out who you are and what you believe. And figuring that out is crucial, because it's so much easier to just absorb the qualities and thoughts of the people around you instead of standing on your own two feet. Knowing yourself deeply and truly means that you can control your own future better. When you really know yourself, it's really hard for people to try to convince you to do/think something that is antithesis to who you are/who you want to be. Knowing yourself is the first step to knowing who want to be at all. At least in my opinion.

How do I even start?

I recommend your favorite media. As I said before, I don't care if it's a book or a cartoon. Consume it again, and really pay attention to which parts you like. Write them down in your notebook and examine why you like it so much. It will feel weird and awkward and hard at first. You'll automatically want to stop. I say give yourself at least a week of doing this regularly to decide if you want to continue or not.

I also suggest pulling from more than one source of media- if you read a lot of books, try podcasts. If you like TV shows, try movies. Just diversify your intake. You don't have to branch into genres you don't like, but knowing how different media can accomplish different things is a worthwhile endeavor to me.

What if I don't have any thoughts on the quote/can't pin down why I like it?

Leave a blank space after the quote. You might not be able to examine the feelings now, but there will come a time later where you will. The subconscious is a miraculous thing. Often, writing down the quote helps your brain recognize that it's important and worth thinking about. Don't ever feel bad for not figuring it out right away. It will take time.

How do I keep up with the habit?

It doesn't matter if you come across a good quote every day or every week or once every ten years. Just keep your ears and eyes open, and you'll find good ones along the way. And when you find them, write them down.

My commonplace book isn't as pretty/organized as other people's. Why bother?

Fuck others commonplace books. Take inspiration if you want, but your commonplace is just that- yours. You don't have to add drawings or keep an index or have a theme if you don't want to. Just the fact that you are thinking about what you consume puts you ahead of the pack.

Other thoughts

Starting a commonplace book is one of the things that helps me know myself, other than journaling. Both are good in different ways, and I might do a journaling post in the future. Taking a close look at why you react the way you do to certain things is the best way to figure out what the purpose the creator of the media had when they created it. Propaganda isn't just in the news- it's everywhere. Taking the time to examine your reactions to others' words is the best way I've found to recognize it. And if you don't want to go that deep, that's fine too. Consider it a way to keep your favorite quotes close.

So happy commonplace book keeping.

[copics-and-renegades]

Interrupting our scheduled Whumptober program to introduce y'all to this little brain bug that's been biting me for months now and that I've been quietly developing further AND that's now becoming relevant context for quite a bunch of Whumptober pieces I've prepared so far.

Let me tell y'all about.

Whumper!Yuan AU

Yes, it's got such a creative name. I guess its full title is "That One Terribad Unhinged Whumper!Yuan AU".

So what's it about? Let me tell you way more than you ever wanted to know! Basically, the spark to this whole AU came to me in a dream (no, really), where I dreamed up the gist and like a few scenes, and then I got up and was like "holy shit" and then I told my friend about it and he was like "holy shit" and then I started writing down stuff for it and even made a comic I never posted (until now).

The tl;dr is: Whumper!Yuan and Whumpee!Botta. (Really twisted setup tbh.) Modern setting. A series of bad coincidences and also bad active decisions happen that lead to a fist fight escalating to Yuan... basically chaining Botta up in his basement. That's it. That's the gist.

The more detailed description (and I'm still making some of this stuff up as I go or don't have an answer yet) is as follows:

Modern setting AU. No Renegades, no Cruxis either afaik. However, there is half-elf discrimination.

Mixing and matching the canon situation of half-elves and putting them in a modern context, half-elves are at the bottom of society's hierarchy. While open slavery like in the recent past of Canon!Sylvarant is, hm, not really practiced anymore and probably somewhat frowned upon? other discriminatory systems such as a whole economy of indentured servitude, lack of voting rights, exclusion from certain jobs or education, ... , you name it, is in place to keep them down. Like in Canon!Tethe'Alla, half-elves are also always one (1) misstep away from serious legal repercussions. Probably no death penalty on the regular, but harsh prison sentences, loss of rights, pretty much no chance of social recovery from a criminal record at all, that kind of stuff is the norm.

Half-elves have no right to bear, well, pretty much any weapon of self-defence at all, either.

Our man Yuan actually holds a "proper" job and has an income. He lives in a run-down little house in a pretty depopulated area he got for cheap somehow. He's working IT Support at some office and everyone is constantly pushing him around. He's above the half-elves cleaning the place or stocking the supplies, but wayyy below any human at all. For a half-elf, he's pretty privileged. As a whole? He struggles and struggles to be The Good Half-Elf, reaching and always slipping on the societal ladder, constantly beaten back down even though he's trying to convince himself he is just trying HARDER than all those other half-elves that don't even get their own shitty desk.

He's a mess and an asshole lol. His pent-up stress and rage are always at the point of finally overwhelming him. He makes himself look proper on the outside, for his human work contacts, he is A Good Half-Elf after all, but in truth he sustains himself on nothing but half-heated convenience store meals and caffeine in every form he can get a hold of. His sleep cycle is shit, the only hobby he feeds is getting mad at videogames he specifically is bad at, he has no social circle, no friends, family estranged, clutter heaping up in his house and pretty much all of it just shit that's been already there when he got it... You get the picture. He's a mess. (He's Canon!Yuan when he doesn't have someone to guide his relentless energy lmao.)

One day after work, circumstances I have not yet fully decided on lead to him meeting and CLASHING HARD WITH a half-elf called Botta.

Botta is also a bit of an asshole lol. He's NOT holding a steady job, maybe never has (he's against letting his labour be exploited by human society duh), he's homeless and always on the run. He gets along relatively fine like that, tho.

When they meet a second time, it's pretty much on Yuan's front lawn and Botta is currently fleeing from the cops. Probably for some petty crime he actually did commit lol. Yuan and Botta get into an argument, somehow. Maybe Botta is expecting help from a fellow half-elf, but Yuan is APPALLED to be put onto the same level as an uncivilised, criminal thug, WHO IS ALSO RUINING IT FOR THE REST OF US OK. (Yay, internalized bigotry and lateral discrimination, yay! Yay, respectability politics!)

One things leads to another, I don't have all details yet, the argument escalates to a fist fight that Botta is DOMINATING SO HARD because Yuan is a little office dweeb and Botta has been fighting for his life on the streets since forever. All under the time pressure of the cops around the corner.

In a fit of anger and desperation, Yuan finally pulls out a taser he is NOT supposed to have and ZAPS the other man at point-blank. Botta goes down, HARD, hits his head and is out like a light.

Oh shit.

Cop getting closer.

Yuan has just assaulted someone with a weapon he is banned from as much as touching, maybe even looking at.

Yuan does the only thing that is rational in this situation: Breaks into a run, catches the cop head-on as far away from the crime scene as he can get, and does the whole "Officer, sir, good sir, officer. There was a suspicious half-elf running past JUST that way, sir, suspicious half-elf. Always happy to assist the police, officer, good day to you, officer, sir."

Somehow that works.

When he returns to his front door, that living evidence of him a) illegally owning a weapon, b) illegally USING the weapon he illegally owns, and c) being obviously uncontrolled, untrustworthy and DANGEROUS enough to enact violence against a person (plus d) being brazen and CRIMINAL enought to lie to a good upholder of the law DIRECTLY TO THEIR FACE, unprompted!!)... Yeah, that living, breathing, but very out-of-it evidence is still THERE.

Yuan does the OTHER only thing that is rational in his situation: Chains that asshole up in his basement, because he SO had it coming. And also that level of power over someone?? When you've always been the one other people had power over?? Fucking hell, it feels GOOD. Vindicating. Intoxicating. GOOD.

Very quickly Yuan has to realize, tho, that he can't count on an element of sheer dumb luck and surprise to keep subduing a VERY angry, VERY uhm passionate PRISONER IN HIS OWN BASEMENT (also taser cartridges are expensive and hard to get, and for a rechargeable stun gun to be an option he'd have to get well within arm's range EVERY TIME), so he's lucky enough to somehow procure one of those shock collars for, well, very large (and in this setting possibly monstrous) dogs. which maybe belonged to the previous owner of the house?? and put it on his hissing, spitting, extremely "I'm going to break your spine LET ME GO!!!" uhm new involuntary roommate.

Said new "roommate" gets over the shock (hehe) but not the anger of all of this happening to him soon-ish enough, when he takes a good long look at That Unpredictable Weirdo Freak and starts asking (and asking and asking) the question that's REALLY pressing into his conscious mind now: "Damn Bitch, You Live Like This??"

:DD

Aaand that's how the initial situation came to be.

Whumper!Yuan AU.

Now how it's developing is, well, the topic of way too many of my thoughts. (Which I'm going to be filling y'all in bit by bit around here, I would assume.) To put it mildly, it's an uneven, unhinged, toxic AND ABSOLUTELY DARKLY HILARIOUS dynamic THAT IS SO MUCH FUN FOR ME TO EXPLORE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. Like, all their interactions are the American Chopper meme. I shouldn't laugh at my own jokes, I guess, but I do. It's such a fun AU to explore.

I've already drawn up a bunch of stuff for Whumptober that I'm going to share this month. (Which is also why I finally made this huge introduction post. For context. Context!!)

But brain is empty for now. Will post more on the whole thing later, in snippets and art and stuff. For now just. Be prepared. For Whumper!Yuan AU on my blog.

:D

[lgbtmi]

new blorbo in law to learn abt! every question ending in 3 + a b and c for wende!

hehehehehehe wende (any pronouns) time!!! to give a bit of context i'll do a, b and c first and then i'll get into answering further questions abt her (:

A) Why are you excited about this character?

Wende is fucking wild. Combined with the system and the relationship map we've created, there's so much angst, drama, and chaos to uncover that I'm just itching to get in there. Monday shall be the day. The day where we discover how bad Wende's drug use actually is, why the guy she assassinated is back (he's an android but she doesn't know that), and maybe even what is in their future with their changeling partner... Also they're named after a performer I really like and I think that's neat uwu

B) What inspired you to create them?

He kind of just kind of... spawned? I joined some friends for a season of Hillfolk Dramasystem and I rolled the last slot on deciding what my character would be, and thus got to be the first person to connect to all other characters. And when the player who went in front of me decided his character would be a politician, the concept of 'guess Wende is just going to be a refugee on the run for having tried to murder the politician-guy'. And it all went downhill from there. It's hilarious.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

Not really, to be honest. The point of the Hillfolk system is to create conflicts and relationships between characters and that is the core of the system. Wende's story is bound to change drastically (their drug addiction came from another player's reason why her character couldn't fulfill Wende's want). Her story isn't mine, it's everyone's, as his purpose is to be a vehicle, which is a refreshing take between all the chaos in my brain regarding Vampire :3

So now that that is out of the way: here's questions abt Wende and their answers!! :D

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Due to their position on the space ship they're on being... not intended... per se... Wende's night routine is pretty simple. Get into bed, try to move as little as possible, and wait for the sweet sweet darkness to take her for a couple of hours. That final step is harder than one might expect, because their brain is always on some other type of shit and stopping the endless onslaught of thoughts for long enough to actually fall asleep is not something they're specifically good at.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

They prefer darker colours because of his profession, but they shine in lighter colours. There's no way Wende is admitting to this, and she'll probably only wear lighter shades when prompted by their partner.

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? 

Wende is an "I take what I deserve"-type. Did they successfully fail at assassinating their current partner's fwb? Yes. The answer is yes. But hey, a doctor isn't supplying him with the narcotics they need, and that's going to be an absolute issue in the future. She has a gun, after all. And she's not afraid to use it.

 33. Could they be considered lazy? 

Absolutely not. They hate hate hate sitting around and will get incredibly antsy and uncomfortable when not doing anything. This doesn't mean she'll do the things she has to do, he'll push off their chores like the best of them, but they're never not doing anything.

43. If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? 

Very simple. Raised eyebrow, vague hand motion, and maybe then a shrug before trying to fade into the darkness. What's a sexuality and how do you describe it when you're an enigma and your partner is even more of an enigma than you are, y'know?

[marchy-emmet]

PLA - Volo and his potential ADHD traits (a theory)

Helloooooooooo gamer nation!! I think I may or may not be the first to make an entire written post about this. I wasn’t able to find any other headcanons addressing this. So without further ado, let me begin explaining.

AS A QUICK DISCLAIMER:

I’m writing this as a person who has “moderately severe” (my weird way of describing it) ADHD. Many people are unaware this is a neurodevelopmental disorder. Paired with autism, it can be very impairing in a world where society demands your brain to function “normally”.

This post will not focus on Volo’s actions for obvious reasons -- his ADHD would not be the cause of this. This will focus more so on his general behavior and quirks.

ADHD MISCONCEPTIONS:

It is a common misconception that ADHD is merely an attention disorder that would make one “spacey, inattentive and unable to sit still”. While these are indeed ADHD traits, this is nowhere near descriptive of the full picture. For example, symptoms that are often regarded less are the tendency to develop hyperfixations, and the lack of dopamine you’d find in an ADHD brain. (Hence why stimulant drugs such as Adderall affect us differently -- the dopamine increase settles the brain’s dopamine and noradrenaline supply back to baseline, whereas a non-ADHD person would receive a “high” from this.)

Because of these misconceptions, the disorder isn’t taken as seriously as it should, and is commonly associated with “boys in class who can’t sit still for 8 hours”. This is unfortunately society’s reality.

WHY I THINK VOLO MAY HAVE ADHD, OR AT LEAST DISPLAYS TRAITS:

You may be wondering why, despite the lack of “obvious” symptoms, I think Volo may have ADHD. My reasoning includes hyperfixation, hyperfocus (another commonly glossed symptom), spontaneous behavior and occasional inattentiveness.

Hyperfixation and hyperfocus - Ah, yes. The best and most obvious part. Volo very clearly has a hyperfixation on myths and legendary Pokemon -- and because he lacks traits of autism, I would consider this a hyperfixation and not a special interest. 

Hyperfixations can also develop from fears, trauma and pain. We know Volo has gone through some shit, as he states, "You see, ever since I was young, whenever I met with something painful or heartbreaking... I couldn't help but wonder why life was so unfair. Why I was cursed to live through such things. Of course, I imagine we all go through something like that. Eventually, I chose to direct all my energy into my own natural curiosity and ambition.” We’re not given closure on what this pain was that he experienced -- but given the context, he may have religious trauma (or the Pokemon universe equivalent). Given this, he may have developed a hyperfixation on myths and legends as a result. 

I would refer to this as an unhealthy hyperfixation. 

Speaking of natural curiosity and ambition..... Guess what? Real people with ADHD tend to have natural curiosity as well. They direct their energy towards the novel, and whatever may seem fascinatingly interesting (ex. my interest in psychedelics is a common ADHD fixation, believe it or not!). Those with ADHD are not only “lacking” focus -- they are hyperfocused on novel, in-depth topics.

One more point to close this portion off is how Cogita comments on this behavior. I do not have the quote on me, but I took note of when she expressed that Volo only wishes to participate in exploring when it piques his interest. (I find this to be a good example of both hyperfocus and lack of focus)

Impulsivity, and more hyperfocus - When Volo suddenly screams, "THAT'S ONE OF THE PLATES WE WERE LOOKING FOR! Ahem. Apologies. That's indeed one of the plates that we've been searching for.” While this can totally be interpreted as mere excitement that his plan is succeeding, it can also be interpreted as a brief lack of self control. (This is not to imply those with ADHD are NEVER in control -- this would be an example of a breakthrough.)

He talks. A lot - You could also tie this one back into hyperfixation -- but Volo talks a lot. He’s always intellectually stimulating himself and infodumping to those around him. In fact, I don’t believe anyone else in this game speaks in as many paragraphs as this man does.

It’s literally a thing that I, and other people with ADHD, will do. Especially while typing in chats. If I’m engaged in a conversation that piques my curiosity, I’ll dominate the conversation and form connections, jumping from one idea to another. My brain never pauses. While I don’t engage in too much small talk, I have a side that requires extra stimulation that manifests this way. Many of these ideas may be uncorrelated to my hyperfixations. It can be jumbo, mumbo and wumbo, flying straight out the ass.

Expressing excitability and curiosity - He seems to always want to delve deeper into things. ANYTHING. Holy shit. And he will continue specifying what exactly he is talking about. Always asking questions.

Some extra tidbits + more quote evidence - 

Giant paragraph chunks like these: “Have you not heard of the notorious Miss Fortunes? They're a trio of bandits that have even hit us Ginkgo Guild more than a few times! Not the kind of regulars I like to have, let me tell you! Miss Calaba is doing everything she can to regain the fragment, but at 99 years old... It's a bit hard for her top chase leads all over the place. So what do you say, kind sir/(female term)? Why not help find the fragment for the warden? Oh--naturally I'll be happy to lend you a hand! Those sisters swiped my wares, too, and I'm no Ginkgo Guild merchant if I take that lying down! And far be it from me to let them just get away with vandalizing the precious ruins of this region! You know, I did see the remains of a campfire near the Mirelands Camp. Perhaps worth checking out?"

I think the way he constantly appears on a whim to the player is... hm... interesting. Like he is always searching around, walking almost aimlessly and running into people on the way there. This may possibly be a sign of self stimulation.

COUNTERARGUMENTS: 

Of course, not everyone will agree with this. Perhaps all of this obsessive wumbo jumbo is merely a result of his obsessive insanity -- and maybe he’s stalking the player when he appears seemingly out of nowhere. All of this, for all we know, could just be unhealthy obsession and malice. But on the other hand, it could be ADHD paired with unhealthy personality traits -- and a horrible upbringing.

As Colress states in Masters -- all of your perspectives are valid.

CLOSING:

I don’t believe there is sufficient evidence for there to be a full diagnosis on Volo. But... he definitely does display traits of ADHD. I think it is safe to keep this noted as a possibility -- but not as the truth.

And again, this is not to stigmatize ADHD by associating it with a “villainous” character. His actions are not a result of ADHD -- they are a result of free will and possible trauma.

If anyone has anything to add, feel free to do so! I definitely think this post is scrambled like an egg and not fully touched on. I wrote as much as I could think of.

[icebluecyanide]

RQG 214 Anxiety Report

Format copied from UPROXX’s ‘The Americans’ Anxiety Report series. I’m basically going to rank RQG characters by how worried I am about them after any given episode, based entirely on my whims and wants and whatever I think is concerning or funny at the moment. If you have a different order feel free to come up with your own ranking or let me know in the tags!

Without further ado, these are the top 10 characters I am most worried about in the show after listening to RQG 214:

10. Ada

She’s stuck in the lab with no way out, with sleeping (?) gas and possible other terrible planar monsters on one side (plus whatever is going on outside the complex/bunker between the plants and the cult of hades), and the doorway to the tunnel that Zolf blocked on the other. Did they store any rations or food in the lab? Is there a limited supply of oxygen now that the door is sealed air-tight against the gas? I have concerns.

9. Babbage

This is a bit of a mixed one, because I don’t care too much about Babbage’s safety per se (sorry Charles), but if his brain gets crushed it’s very likely that they won’t be able to get the kill-switch working properly. So like, here’s to hoping the orb he’s in is made of reinforced glass?

8. Einstein

He has almost definitely been taken by some faction, whether it is the blue veins or the cult of hades. What if he’s blue veined and starts popping in during the fight? What if he’s NOT and he pops in during the fight and gets burned by Guivres?

7. Azu

But Cyan, you cry, Azu is a PC! A main character! Why isn’t she ranked higher? And yes that is true, but she is also buffed up quite well at the moment, has a decent number of hitpoints, a big axe, and the most likely enemy she will be fighting until the distracting Guivres plan fails is weird plant creatures that she can cleave. I am very excited about the possible cleaving. Having said that, I’m not sure what’s to stop Guivres from glassing the bell tower and Azu’s reflex save is rubbish so, insert One Fear meme here.

6. Zolf

Is in much the same situation as Azu, he’s got loads of hitpoints, but he’s also worryingly unconcerned about his own health because of it, and there’s a good chance Guivres may go all FIRE on them at some point, and I fear Guivres has too much spell resistance for his ice javelin spell to work this time. :(

5. Hamid’s twin brothers

Okay, listen, if Einstein has been blue veined and Einstein knew where the twins were, that would mean they’re in danger. I know Ismail at least can probably can cast fireballs and Ed was still hanging around but like,,, if anything happened to them I will cry. They are already different ages, Alex, leave them be 😭

4. Wilde

Is probably going to cast some illusions or buffs, which would both be really nice, but we all know that Alex rolls distressingly poorly sometimes, and he’s not exactly got lots of hit points. I’m very concerned about him if Guivres decides to breath fire in their direction.

3. Cel

They have surprisingly decent hit points from what I remember, but they’re mechanically Shaken which is bad, and they’re also planning to run interference between Guivres and the tower party and they have the wings and move speed to pull off some self-sacrificing tactics and also said they would distract the GIANT ELDER DRAGON.

2. Skraak

Is currently played by Alex, who is a monster and forces Bryn to roll for him without context, and is also probably trapped under or in a glassed house??? Judging by what Alex said they also took a bunch of damage already and I’m not convinced he made his escape artist check, so yeah, MUCH ANXIETY.

1. Hamid

If Skraak dies in this battle and Hamid doesn’t, he’s gonna feel so guilty, but also that might not matter because Hamid is currently COMPLETELY VISIBLE and being stared at by a MASSIVE DRAGON (cousin?? aunt???). I’m also not sure a fire resistance of 10 is going to be much help against a 60ft cone of fire doing 20d10 damage. FLY LITTLE DRAGON BOY

[lesbianbending-moved]

I know there has already been a post about the political implications of a train/railroad, but my adhd brain decided to not like that it was just a huge text block, anyway I'm actually very interested in some of your takes on LOK politics?? If your wiling to talk about it ofcourse (and maybe break it down a bit more in paragraphs/bulletpoints please)

yes of course! sorry, I tend to ramble when i am excited to talk about things like this, but i’ll compress my Thoughts:

book 1

this may be an unpopular opinion, but i loved the idea of the equalist group as a political enemy. it made complete sense in the context of the world and had links to real-life similar groups (look up basically any country after a war and you will find new ‘revolutionary’ groups grasping at a chance for power)

it also made the group as a whole so much scarier because they were popular. people loved them. they were bringing up issues that most people dared to not even think about.

i also loved that the vast majority of equalists were just people. regular people. it showed that even though these people had genuine (and justified) concerns, the group itself was so entrenched in toxicity that what started as genuine issues bled into extremism.

book 2

um. hm. not much to say here politically EXCEPT i wish they had developed varrick’s subplot more.

i had never seen a show outright discuss how the richest people will start wars just to get even richer. it would have been so cool if they actually had the time to develop that and didn’t just drop it.

book 3

each book had done so before, but with zaheer’s plot they really, fully, establish that this is a show about good ideals being taken to extremes

the red lotus is so reminiscent of other anarchist groups. they have a goal we all believe in: freedom. but zaheer believes the only link to freedom is chaos

if you took any political theory or psych class you had flashbacks to hobbes, locke, the state of nature, and social contract theory.

honestly you could skip that section of your class if you just watch book 3. zaheer’s ideology is the state of nature idea with the volume turned up. which is so interesting to see such a canonized political theory in a show made for kids! whack!

book 4 - let’s talk about trains :)

rail systems have a LONG history of being extremely important to nations without being recognized

as a personal example, america has no real railway system because a) the oil and motor industries fought against the idea of people taking a more economical and ecological option that would in turn lead to a decrease in their profits which led to b) further political and geographical division across the country

if you can’t easily access different parts of such a geographically large country, there is no way it will be politically or ideologically united. wherever you are, the other side of the country will always be categorized as the ‘other’ (.... remind you of kuvira yet?)

on the flip side, rail systems also have a history of being built on native land that has been exploited and stolen in the name of unifying a country (... not to call out kuvira but. kuvira)

kuvira spent three years building a rail system because she is the great uniter, and what better way to unite such a geographically large nation? there was no other way for her and her army to spread supplies, propaganda, and create a unified identity. of course, we see her exploit small towns in order to build her rail system - showing us just how layered this issue is.

this is by far my favorite political take i’ve seen in a tv show ever. it’s an issue that is so so important yet is so easily overlooked. yet, lok portrayed it beautifully without outright smacking you over the head with the importance of rail systems

TLDR: the political issues in lok are almost 1 for 1 pulled from real life modern day issues and portray good ideals taken to extremes in a beautiful way

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 2

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 9.7k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, anal play (male receiving), praise kink, degradation, mentions of cross dressing, brief orgasm denial, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of birth control, dirty talk, pet play, cum play (kinda?), voyeurism, group sex, anal sex, pheww I think that’s it

this one is,,, twice as long as pt 1 eye-

anyways thank you for all the love for physcom! I’ll do my best to make this series ruin everyone’s lives hehehe  the best it can be! ^^ <3

-------

“...What are you two doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit-

Emergency sirens are all you can hear in your brain and sheer panic floods your veins, leaving you frozen with fear. You know you shut the door, you had to have shut it, right? Why the fuck wouldn’t you have shut the door?

Surely this is the end. You’ll be exposed and all the reasons that you gave Taehyung not to do the thing you just did come flooding back to you now, echoing in your head like ghosts and mocking you in your own voice. Contract terminated… stigmatized… left with nothing... shadow of disgrace...

“What does it look like?” Taehyung answers without hesitation, drawing you back into the present moment. One of his eyebrows lifts minutely, as if he’s only mildly irritated by the witness to your transgression. If he’s nervous, you can’t tell.

Jimin’s eyes narrow suspiciously at Taehyung’s sarcasm. “It looks like you were-”

“Our lovely PhysCom was just helping me get off.” Tae interrupts him, his tone implying the obvious.

It’s then that you realize, Jimin only saw what you two were doing, not the reason behind it, or what you were feeling... this lie might actually work.

“Then why were you just kissing her? Why wasn’t she touching you, or something?” Jimin is not so easily fooled, and he peers around to confirm that neither yours nor Tae’s genitals are exposed.

Taehyung gives a shrug. "Kissing is my new kink."  His eyes sparkle with the private joke, and he sends you a wink. “See you later, jagiya.” With that, he ruffles his hair back into place and heads out of the room, leaving you alone with a skeptical Jimin.

You're a little ticked that he left you to glue all the pieces of your cover story back into place, but you turn to Jimin regardless. "Sorry about that. Master Kim has been… experimenting,” you supply, trying to fill in any holes in the story, but sounding uncertain even to your own ears.

"I don't like that he calls you that." Jimin says, a frown on his lips as he stares after the direction Tae went.

You furrow your brows. "What?"

"Jagiya.” His gaze shifts back to you. “You know what that means, right?"

It’s rare for the boys use a word or phrase in their native language that you don’t understand. You don’t speak Korean, but the chip in your brain does. It’s hooked up to an audio-translation app in your ComGear, and automatically translates what you hear, so your brain perceives it in your native tongue.

Conversely, the chip also tracks your thoughts, so as you go to speak, it overrides the synapses in your Temporal Lobe and Korean comes out of your mouth instead. Such a device is considered standard among newly licensed PhysComs.

It didn’t used to be that way, and often PhysComs that were hired from foreign countries had no way to speak to their clients except through body language and learned commands. But the industry quickly realized that full communication is key to avoiding issues with consent, not to mention it's much more convenient, and so the best PhysCom networks provide their employees with proper translation equipment. Though there are still some smaller networks that can’t afford the technology and therefore, they usually only hire trainees who speak the same language as their potential clients.

On occasion, there will still be a word which has no exact equivalent in your language, such as hyung or jagiya, so the app doesn’t attempt to translate it. But usually you can pick up the gist of it through context, and Namjoon has been very helpful in providing you with articulate definitions before. You still remember the funny look on his face when you asked him about jagiya - the term of endearment Tae calls you.

"It's used between lovers, isn't it?” You ask, recalling Namjoon’s definition to be an approximation of darling or sweetheart. “Technically, I am his lover."

Jimin’s frown creases his brow. "Yeah, but you're a lover for all of us,” he says, a pout forming on his lips. “He shouldn't get to act like you're just his."

Normally you would tease him for sounding jealous, but his concern in this case is… founded, and another pang of guilt hits your gut. You don't know if you'll even be able to eat the dinner you made at this rate.

You try to change the subject. "Anyway, how can I help you, Master Park?"

"Oh, right.” His concern seems to melt away to embarrassment, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I sent you a message this morning. I don't know if you got it… then I messaged you about ten minutes ago, asking if we could… have a quick session."

Right. You haven’t looked at your ComGear since the incident with Taehyung, and you feel even guiltier. First you were lying to your client, and now you’ve accidentally ghosted him. Thankfully Jimin doesn’t hold a grudge, especially not with you. All he needs is a little personal attention and validation, and he’ll be purring.

Time to get back to work.

"Sorry, master.” You assume your persona and saunter over to him, running your hand up his arm. “I was so excited to hear from you, I forgot to reply,” you chuckle, your fingers dancing up his neck and combing through the hair at his nape. He visibly relaxes under your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you card through his silky locks.

“It’s okay…” he mumbles, shyly avoiding your gaze. Honestly, Jimin can be too cute for his own good. He and Taehyung are the same age, but they're like opposites in a way. They both exude the same level of charm, but one is effortlessly seductive while the other is effortlessly endearing. You have witnessed those roles reverse in them before, but no matter which way you look at it, they’re still two of the sexiest people on the planet.

“I did get your message this morning, master. Quite a scandalous outfit…" You click your tongue and raise a well groomed eyebrow at him. Jimin loves to be teased, and chastisement really puts him over the edge. “Why did a good boy like you send me such a naughty picture, hm?”

He looks away, a blush rising to his cheeks. "I was wondering if… if you could…"

You don’t try to finish his sentence for him, and lift one polished fingernail beneath his chin, coaxing him to look at you. "Yes?"

"If you could make me wear it?"

Oh. Another surprise. Jimin is a hell of a flirt on stage, and anyone would think he’s dominant in the bedroom, even just judging from how often he sticks out his tongue while dancing, or how he thrusts his hips to the encouraging screams of thousands. But that’s on the stage, when he’s in his element. By himself, in private, it’s a much different story. Jimin’s not exactly sure what he wants from you.

You had read up about all this in his file, and you’ve been working with Jimin to help him explore his sexuality in a way that’s comfortable for him. You’ve tried a myriad of things so far, and recently, he’s been enjoying more submissive pleasures. During your most recent session, he even asked you to penetrate him.

You had complied of course, but the experience seems to have inspired him to go further, to a kink you didn’t even know he had. Cross-dressing and the usual praise-filled humiliation? Oh, this will be fun.

“Chim?” Your tone is scandalized as you use the name he prefers when being submissive, and his cheeks turn scarlet. “You want to be dressed up in that outfit?”

He nods, turning his face to nuzzle his cheek into your hand. “Is... is that okay?”

Your heart melts, and you smile at him, brushing your thumb along his soft cheek. “Of course it’s okay, baby.”

He grins, his eyes turning to crescents, and you suddenly feel compelled to give him the entire world if he so desires.

You click your tongue once more and ruffle his hair affectionately. “We’ll have to order it first, okay? Then we can dress you up, Chim.”

“Okay,” he says, and you swear his smile could light up the night sky. “Until then… could you, uh… play with my butt again?”

You chuckle and nod. “Yes, I most definitely can. We still have some time before dinner.” You grab your ComGear, take his hand, and lead him out of the room, being sure to shut the door this time. “Come along, baby.”

As the two of you head off to his room, you’re almost able to forget the situation with Taehyung. That is, until you open your ComGear to pull up the picture of Jimin’s outfit and see all the missed messages from him.

I’m really sorry. My feelings got away from me. Please don’t ignore me, jagiya. I don’t want to lose you. Jagiya? I’m coming upstairs.

Shit. Feelings? A sinking feeling claws at your heart and you have to wonder just how serious Taehyung is about you. How deep do these feelings of his go?

“Everything okay?” Jimin’s voice clears your mind and you slide your ComGear back into its holster. His eyes are full of concern at your probably tense expression, and you have to push the guilt away again.

“Everything’s fine.” You aren’t sure that’s true, but maybe if you say it enough, it’ll manifest. Regardless, you don’t have time to worry about Taehyung right now. Your client needs you.

“Come on, baby boy. Let’s go make you feel good.”

-------

Jimin’s room always smells good, like fresh linen. You aren’t sure how that’s possible, when 80 percent of the time, the place is a mess. But you aren’t complaining. He keeps his bed made neatly, and that’s all that matters for your job.

"Take off your pants for me, Chim." Your voice is gentle as you start the scene and lock the door behind the both of you. Jimin wastes no time in following your orders, and strips his lower half down to his underwear. He’s about to take off his top too, but you stop him. “You should leave that on. It’s cute.”

He looks down at the oversized shirt, the long sleeves covering most of his hands, and the rest of the soft blue fabric hangs loosely around his torso. He smiles shyly and gets onto the bed, assuming position and laying on his back as he had for your previous sessions.

"What a good boy. Oh, look how hard you are already,” you purr, undoing the belt of your robe and slipping it off, leaving your body bare save for your utility belt. It feels good to put aside your worries and focus on work for a while.

Before you begin, you change a setting on your ComGear to let the other boys know you’re currently in a session. If you’re busy and they want to fuck, they have the option of joining in - if your current client allows it - scheduling you for directly after, or fucking one of the secondary PhysComs their company employs and keeps on call.

You’re their Primary Physcom. The secondaries are alternate fuck toys for when you’re unavailable, if you get sick, on your days off, while you’re sleeping, etc. For as long as you’ve worked for Bangtan, not once have they called a secondary PhysCom.

It does boost your pride a bit, but to be fair, you’re the only one who knows them so well.

Sure, they could go call another PhysCom to play with if they get super horny at three in the morning, but the secondaries are practically strangers to them. They’ve all expressed that they’d much rather wait, if it means they can get their hands on you instead of some random substitute, which is just the way you like it.

You’re their girl, and you know, better than anyone, how they like to fuck. Besides, if anything, them having to wait for you builds up the anticipation and makes them even hornier. In a way, you view their favoritism as job security. It’s only practical to stay in their good graces and develop trust and build connections with them.

You see the lust and excitement glittering in Jimin’s eyes as you climb onto the bed, facing him and sitting beside his legs. Your hand runs up along his inner thigh to tease him, and the bulge in his underwear grows a little more prominent.

“Now then. Have you been thinking about our last session, Chim?” You make your voice calm and soothing as your fingers skim up and down his thighs, giving an occasional squeeze to his soft skin. God, his thighs are thick… perfect for riding.

He nods. “Yes.”

You flick the thought away. He didn’t ask you to ride his thighs. Your fantasies are not relevant. “Good. And how do you feel about it? Did you like it when I played with your pretty little hole?” Your nails graze over his length, and he bites his lower lip. You like to do regular check-ins with your clients, in case they want to experiment, or something isn’t working for them. But with Jimin, everything so far has been an experiment, so you’ve been checking in more frequently. In a way, you’re kind of like a sexual therapist to all of them.

“Yes. I loved it,” he replies, gripping the sheets below him to avoid moving too much. “It felt so good.”

You hum in delight, happy that you two seem to have found a path to follow to pursue his pleasure. “Excellent. And if something doesn’t feel good, what do we say?”

“Calico.” Jimin murmurs, one sleeved hand coming up to cover his face. God, he’s a natural. His shyness is going to kill you. You set up safe words with all your clients, just in case. It shows your professionalism. You even have one, though you’ve never had to use it.

“Good boy. Always tell me how you’re feeling, okay?” You can feel his cock twitch at the praise, and you love being able to make him so happy.

He nods, a blush already rising to his cheeks. “Please touch me.”

How can you deny such a request? You hook your fingers in the waistband of his (no doubt very expensive) boxer briefs, peeling the fabric down his legs and off his body, to be discarded at the foot of the bed.

“Oh my…” You shift positions, spreading his legs apart and perching yourself between them. “What a pretty little cock. Look at that.” You would make a show of it even if it wasn’t pretty, but fuck, in this case, the praise is well deserved. Jimin’s cock is smooth and pink and perfect, just like his lips. Frankly, you think putting your mouth on either one would be just as pleasurable. The only fib about his cock would be the ‘little’ part - Jimin sports a fair five or six inches - but it’s all a part of the fantasy, for his benefit.

You hum to yourself as you snap on a pair of plastic gloves, as much for safety reasons as for his pleasure. Even though you all get checked frequently for any sort of sexual diseases and infections, you’re still having sex with multiple men every single day, and there are certain precautions one should take.

Hygiene is one of the many intricacies of your job and you follow your hygienic routine religiously. For anal and vaginal sex, PhysComs have various cleansers that can be inserted nightly to prevent anything nasty from taking root overnight. For Oral sex, there are specialized mouth washes that can be swallowed if needed.

But hands are a little trickier. Nails and cuticles aren’t as easily to clean thoroughly, and can trap all sorts of bacteria, so with something like fingering your clients, it’s safest to use a barrier to significantly decrease the risk of infection or contamination.

Now fully protected, your fingertips start to trace over his beautiful cock, skimming along his inner thighs, and teasing his precious little hole, building up his anticipation. He gives a small whimper, looking away as you tease him just enough to make his hips buck up into your capable hands.

Eventually, you take his length and slowly pump it in your hand, catching his gaze whenever he looks to you. “Does Chim want to be filled up? You want me to play with your ass?”

He nods emphatically, still hiding his face.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes! Please p-play with my ass.” His face is positively scarlet, and you smile with satisfaction.

You let go of him, and reach beneath his bed to pull out his little chest of treasures. Anal beads, plugs, vibrators, nearly everything can be found inside. You think he might have even added to the collection since last time.

You select a small ribbed plug with a jewel decorating the base and grab the lube from your belt. You spread a generous amount over his hole, gently massaging it in. As you carefully push your forefinger past his puckered rim, he moans. You slide your finger gently in and out, stroking his silken walls, and he writhes beneath your touch, already overcome with pleasure.

“Are you ready, baby?”

He nods again, then remembers to speak. “Yes. I’m ready.”

You ease the tip of the plug past his rim, and soon the whole thing is nestled comfortably inside him. He lets out a whine, his thighs clenching as you slowly work the toy in and out of his hole. “Good boy… such a pretty cock.” You pet his thigh soothingly, then start to squeeze his cock, pumping it slowly in time with the plug.

It doesn’t take long before Jimin is moaning and squirming, his length rock hard and leaking precum. His moans get whinier, his breath more shallow, and you can tell he’s on the edge.

With a kiss to his hardened dick, you ease the plug out of his ass and cease all contact. Orgasm denial is something he’d brought up last time, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to test the waters. "I think such a good boy can hold his cum in until dinner…"

"No! Please! I-I can't." He covers his face with both hands, writhing desperately for some friction to his aching cock, his pink hole puckering cutely at the sudden emptiness.

So freaking cute.

"Oh? You want to cum now?" You chuckle, teasing the toy around his rim. "But then how will you fuck me along with the others at dinner if your little cock is all sad and empty?" You trace your fingernail up along his length, barely touching him.

He whimpers in reply, his member twitching in pleasure.

"Can you cum again for me tonight, baby boy? Promise me. Otherwise this little cock is going to stay hard." You grip him by the base of his shaft, tortuously brushing your forefinger over the leaking head of his cock.

"I promise I can! I'll cum for you at dinner, I-I swear it…"

You grin. You don’t expect to hold it to him, but you know it’s the looming threat of punishment that’s what’s most effective here. "I have your word, baby boy."

Your hand pumps his length to completion while you grab the toy and fuck it back inside of him, and he cries out in ecstasy, quickly cumming in spurts all over your hand, a few drops landing on his shirt while his body trembles from his climax.

"Good boy,” you coo, milking him through his high.

-------

It doesn’t take you long to clean Jimin up, as well as cleaning the toy for next time, and then you pack everything away. He’s still breathless by the time you’re finished, laying on the bed as he recovers from his orgasm.

You’re about to get up and grab your robe from the floor when Jimin finds his voice.

"Why were you really kissing Taehyung?"

Your stomach sinks at the question. You’d been hoping he’d forgotten - as you were trying to do - about your little bend of will earlier. How the hell are you supposed to answer that? Honesty. Always go for honesty.

Well, as honest as you can be without losing your job. "He commanded me."

"Is that all it takes?" Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up and he props up eagerly onto his elbows. "Kiss me, too."

You curse the flutter in your stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You know for a fact that it's a bad idea, and out of the question, but damn if Park Jimin doesn't have the most luscious lips you've ever seen. The temptation is there, for sure...

"Just a little kiss?” He clasps his hands together, his eyes pleading. “It's only fair. You were practically making out with him."

Well, shit. Now what? Technically, not kissing clients is only a self-imposed rule on your part, plenty of PhysComs divulge in the act. You chose to restrict it for your own sanity. But, what now? Do you lie to yourself and stick to the book, even when you've already broken a cardinal rule? Or do you… see what's beyond the confines of its cover?

Fuck. You need to stop talking yourself into these things.

But to be fair, nothing bad happened last time, apart from Jimin walking in on you. You glance at the door, which is shut tight and locked, as is standard during a session. No risk of being interrupted.

Jimin’s eyes dart down to your lips as he chews on his own, waiting for your decision. Seeing his teeth tug at the plump pink skin has your heart skipping a beat despite your best effort to deny his effect on you.

Fuck it. Park Jimin is begging to kiss you.

"Okay, fine. One - very small - kiss." You pinch your fingers together to demonstrate.

“Yes!” He smiles brightly, and suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. He sits up fully, scooting closer to you.

Why is your heart beating so goddamn fast? Why are you nervous about this? "But, look, you can't tell anyone, okay? I’m making an exception since this isn't really in my job description."

He nods eagerly and seems happy to agree to any stipulations. “Just this once, I promise. It’ll be our secret.”

That makes it sound even more condemning somehow, but you don’t have time to second guess it as he cups your cheek and pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is like some sort of paradise, it leaves your mind feeling fuzzy... his lips… how are they so thick and soft? He’s hypnotic, sweet, addictive… like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

Before you know it, he's laying you out on the bed, moaning as he licks into your mouth, his tongue breaching through the kiss while he gropes your breast. Fuck, you shouldn’t have agreed to do this naked. But he tastes so sweet, you can’t think of a reason to object, too intoxicated by his lips. He breaks away from your mouth and starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, and pretty soon he's mouthing at your inner thighs, his fingers skimming the base of your pussy plug.

Oh, shit. Wait, no, how did this happen?

"Master Park." You start to say, but then he's twisting the plug free, and you gasp at the unexpected stretch as it pulls out. "J-Jimin!"

He stops, his eyes wide at the use of his first name as he looks up at you from his lewd position.

"What the hell are you doing?" You ask, too flustered to rely on your usual formalities.

"Saying thank you." He replies simply. Then he leans down to kiss your clit, and begins mouthing at it devotedly.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the electric contact. Fuck, no one's gone down on you in a year at least, not since your training. Your body is screaming to let him continue, but you know it’ll lead to nowhere as he laves over your sensitive and neglected bud with his tongue, and you find yourself scooting up the bed and away from his blissful mouth. "Jimin, no. Stop."

You grab the plug from him and insert it again before anything can leak out, distress making your fingers tremble.

His face scrunches with concern. "Did I do it wrong?"

Damn it, why does he have to look like a heartbroken little puppy?

"No. No, it felt really good,” You assure him distractedly, trying to contain the frustration bubbling up inside you.

"Then why can't I-"

"Because!" You don’t mean to lash out, but your temper bursts before you can help it. "God, first Taehyung and now you, why is everyone trying to fuck with me today?"

His face falls, and he looks hurt. "I wasn't fucking with you."

"No, Jimin…” This day just keeps getting better and better. “I know you weren't. I'm sorry." You extend a hand, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It’s not his fault that you can’t seem to follow your own fucking rules. "But please don’t go down on me, not ever, okay?"

"Why not?” He frowns, and you feel even worse for letting this happen. “You deserve it. You do so much for us."

You pause, wondering whether you should lie. Always going for honesty hasn’t worked out too well so far... But looking at Jimin’s eyes, full of concern and confusion, you can’t bring yourself to lie to him. "Because I can't orgasm."

His brow furrows. "Just because it’s not a part of your job, doesn’t mean-"

"No, Jimin." You draw your knees up to your chest, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable for letting your guard down so easily around him. "I literally can't. I'm incapable."

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. This is not something you expected to have to talk about. "Do you know anything about modern birth control?"

He cocks his head to the side, unsure of where you’re going with this. "There are pills, right? And condoms too, I guess."

"There are also implants,” you explain, wringing your hands in your lap.

Jimin blinks, clearly confused. His gaze slides down to your chest for about half a second.

You sigh again. "Not that kind. It's like a piece of plastic they put inside you that emits a hormone. It stops ovaries from creating eggs. They're over 99% effective at preventing pregnancy."

He still looks confused. "Yeah, but why would that make you-"

You shake your head. "That's how most of them work. There's a newer, more tailored kind of implant for PhysComs that's 100% effective." When the technology was discovered, it was a hot item for PhysCom networks. Of course, some people developed negative side effects to it, but if one’s body was compatible with this new miracle form of birth control, it boosted their advantages in the field exponentially.

You let go of your legs and look to him, resignation in your gaze. "It puts the reproductive system into a comatose state and ceases all function of the ovaries and uterus apart from lubrication."

"Oh." Jimin looks shocked, and you don’t blame him. Barely anyone outside of the sex work industry has even heard of the technology. Who else would sacrifice their own pleasure for ensuring zero chance of pregnancy?

You’ve tried to climax before on your own, god knows. But the implant leaves you in a perpetual state of mild arousal with nowhere to go, like constantly revving an engine. Clitoral stimulation feels good at first, but with no resolution, it soon becomes tortuous.

You can put up with it for short periods, like if one of the boys starts to rub you while they fuck you. They mean well. But you’ve learned to convincingly fake an orgasm before it gets to be too much. Most of the time it’s not an issue, since your pleasure doesn’t enter into the equation.

"That's how all of you can cum inside me all the time. It's how I can keep it plugged up in me without any fear of getting pregnant." You laugh humorlessly, tapping the plug at your core.

Jimin stares at the plug, as if it’s presence has taken on an entirely new meaning to him. "I never thought about that."

You actually do laugh at his naïvety. “I’m sure no man would look that gift horse in the mouth.” You realize from his puzzled expression that the idiom might not translate well. “No man would question such a privilege.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess…” A shadow crosses over his face, and you decide to draw this uncomfortable conversation about your reproductive system to a close.

"There is a way to turn it off, in case of emergency side effects. But I can't just turn it off for fun. You have to understand that.” You rest your hand on his shoulder again, hoping he now comprehends the reason for your earlier outburst. “It's a part of my job."

"I understand. Sorry,” he says, giving you a small nod. He twists his mouth to the side, chewing over the revelations. "That must really suck. Not being able to cum."

You laugh heartily this time, your spirits lifted from his sentiment. "Yeah, it does sometimes." You give his thigh a pat and get up to go find your robe. "But I get to make all of you cum for me, so doesn't that make up for it?"

He shrugs, that pout appearing once more. You feel bad for bringing his mood down. You’re supposed to be lifting him up, making him feel good.

You tie the belt of your robe and come back over to him, your finger tracing under his chin.

"Come on, baby. Let's go order that outfit for you."

His spirits seem to lift a little at the proposition and you smile to yourself. Jimin truly is one of your easiest clients to please.

-----

A while later, you stand in Seokjin’s bedroom within his walk-in closet, admiring yourself in the full length mirror. You‘re wearing a gown more expensive than a house, and jewels decorate your throat and hair, elbow-length gloves adorning your hands.

“Are you ready for dinner, darling?” Seokjin purrs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, his hands lightly gliding up your waist.

“Yes, Master Kim.” Your answer is obedient and full of gratitude. You gaze at his reflection in the mirror, letting him take in your appearance.

“My, my, my… look at how lucky I am to have such a pretty pet, hm?” He chuckles, one of his hands skimming gingerly up your ribs and settling on your breast, squeezing you through the silken dress.

“Yes, master,” you sigh, leaning into his sinful touch and playing along with his fantasy. Seokjin's pleasure seems to hinge on your luxury. The more extravagance you’re dripping in, the hornier he gets. Which he often likes to complement with your unique position in the house...

“Such a pretty pet. I bet you’d gladly have us all fuck you on the dinner table, wouldn’t you?”

You shiver. Seokjin’s dirty talk was good when you started working for them, but it’s only improved over time. "Of course, master. I love to be your little fuck toy." You smile at him in the mirror, and then turn around in his arms, placing your hands on his chest.  "Please use me tonight, any way you wish."

“That’s the plan, darling.” He chuckles, taking your hands and bringing them up to his mouth, languidly kissing each and every knuckle. His eyes burn with unbridled passion, and you wonder if tonight he’ll be in the mood to fuck you before you even make it to dinner.

Seokjin looks gorgeous, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit, with his hair styled perfectly, not a single strand out of place. Anyone would fall to their knees if they received a look like the one he’s giving you now.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet.” A smile tugs at his lips.

You gasp in delight, your eyes wide and innocent. “I’m so lucky! What is it, master?” You know what it is. He gives you one once a week, every Friday night, when it’s his turn to call the shots.

“Close your eyes, pet.”

You obey, and feel a slim piece of leather grace your throat. In a few moments he tells you to look in the mirror again, and you see a decorative collar circling your neck.

“Oh, master…” You don’t have to pretend to be impressed. Though Jin collars you every week, he never uses the same collar more than once, and this week’s purchase is a decadent, lacy display, with tiny jewels inlaid in its surface. “It’s beautiful.”

His hands are on you again, skimming up your waist while he noses your neck. “A perfect fit for my beautiful slut,” he breathes, and you feel a flutter in the pit of your stomach. Jin is just as charming as the rest of them, and It would be easy to underestimate him, but that would be a grave mistake. He gives off a certain aura of power that’s unparalleled by any other man you’ve met.

“How many?” He asks in a husky whisper, one hand slipping down your back to ease over your ass.

You shiver. Jin gets satisfaction on his night of control by knowing how much cum you’d collected inside you over the course of the day. “Sixteen.”

His hand comes down in a hard spank, rubbing you ass afterward to calm the sting. “Fuck. So greedy…” he rumbles, his voice thick with lust. “That’s more than two rounds each… Did you beg for them to fill you up, like the little whore you are?” His voice is soothing and elegant, a stark contrast to the filth coming from his beautiful mouth.

You nod, biting your lower lip. Anything to hear his silken voice in your ear again.

“You’ll eat well tonight, my sweet…” his voice lilts as he kisses up your neck, his hands slipping up once more to your tits, squeezing them possessively.

You moan softly, leaning your head back to expose more of your throat. Jin’s presence feels secure and thrilling all at once. You know he’ll never hurt you, but the effortless brand of posh dominance he wields keeps you on your toes.

“How do you feel towards Taehyung, pet?”

Your blood runs cold. How did he find out? Did Tae tell him what happened? Fuck. You try to keep your voice even, try not to let yourself become stiff in his arms. “Why do you ask, master?”

Seokjin shrugs one shoulder, more concerned with peeling down the bodice of your dress to reveal your breasts. “He requested the first taste of you tonight. I obviously won’t grant him the privilege of touching my pet if he’s done anything at all to fall out of your good graces.”

You swallow. You don’t know why Tae requested to go first, and you’d rather not give him any more ground until you’ve had a chance to talk to him. To make sure he knows the kiss was a one-time thing. To make sure he hasn’t gotten any ideas about those feelings of his.

“I… I would rather have someone else go first, master.” You say quietly, knowing that refusing Tae’s request could be just as condemning as going through with it and whatever he’d been planning to do to you.

Jin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question you. You remind yourself to calm down. For all he knows Taehyung could have eaten all the breakfast cereal. He doesn’t have to know why Tae’s not in your favor right now. “Very well, pet. I’ll choose someone else.”

“Thank you, master.” You visibly relax, and let Seokjin play with your tits. He circles his thumbs over your nipples, and they quickly become erect under his touch.

“Do you know why I gave you this collar?” He murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he licks up your neck.

You know. “Why, master?”

“Because tonight you’ll be passed around and fucked by all of us. Every member of this household.” His words are crisp, in delicious contrast with his soft hands massaging your breasts. “You’ll be our dessert course. I want them to remember that you’re mine and that I’m granting them the privilege of fucking my sweet little toy and having a taste of you.” He nips at your neck, sucking gently before pulling away. “And I want you to remember that you belong to no one else in that room but myself.” He rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging at the sensitive buds. “You obey me, and me alone. Is that understood?”

You whimper and nod. “Yes, Master Kim.”

“What a good little slut.” He smiles serenely and gives each tit a light swat before tugging your bodice back over your chest.

There’s a moment of tender silence as he observes you in the mirror. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s set his act aside for a brief moment. “You know, you’re really good at this.” He smiles appreciatively, giving you a warm hug around the middle and nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh at his break in character, laying your arms atop his. “It’s my job to be good at it,” you reply with a fond roll of your eyes.

He straightens his posture and adjusts his cufflinks, resuming his role seamlessly. “We’ll be starting the main course in thirty minutes. Be prepared.”

You nod obediently, and he hovers close to you once more. His tongue darts out to lick up your cheek possessively. “Be good while I’m away, pet.”

You watch as he leaves the room, the door shutting softly behind him. Well, you have half an hour of time to kill before they’re ready for you.

Pretty soon after you were hired, the boys’ company decided it would be a good idea for them to take turns living out their wildest fantasies with you. One night of the week is dedicated to each of them, and during that night, whoever’s in charge can do whatever they want with you, and the other boys have to either watch or join in. Their company said it’s good for group bonding, and for healthy sexual expression. The boys decided who would have which night through rock, paper, scissors, and Seokjin got slotted for Fridays.

Something about Seokjin’s banquet nights always give you jitters, as if you’re about to perform onstage. Well, if you count a tabletop as a stage. Regardless, you always find ways to relax before the show, so to speak.

Tonight you’ve decided to kill the time on your ComGear, with the few limited apps you’re allowed to have. You’ve become a master at solitaire and minesweeper, and as you take a seat on the chaise lounge, kicking your feet up, you select the hardest difficulty mode.

Honestly, you haven’t played a good game of solitaire in several weeks. But last banquet night you finished the novel you’d been reading and you’re now suffering from a severe hangover from the detailed and colorful universe the author had crafted. The next book in the series isn’t set to release for a few months, so until then you’re back at the games.

Easy. You beat the game in under ten minutes. There have to be some more difficulty levels. You switch to the settings menu and scroll until you find the gameplay options.

Huh. Strange. An option you don’t remember seeing before. ‘Connect and play with your friends!’ Psh, what friends? Did your network forget to disable the useless feature? Curious, you tap on the button and are greeted with a spinning circle, indicating that the game is probably trying to find your non-existent friends from your non-existent contact list. ComGears are so heavily restricted, they might as well be walkie talkies. All you’re allowed on there is messaging and scheduling between you, your clients, and your handler. Plus the games. But you’d requested those.

After several moments, you give up waiting and put the Gear away. You have more pressing issues on your mind, and solitaire isn’t enough of a distraction.

Why had Taehyung requested you first tonight? In fact, why had he disappeared right after the… kissing incident? He hasn’t messaged you since then, and the lack of closure is starting to make you antsy. You can trust him, right? Yesterday, you would have said so, undoubtedly. But you also wouldn’t have guessed that he had anything more than platonic feelings for you.

God, men are so complicated.

You groan and stand up, spending the rest of your down time doing your stretches, going through your positive affirmations, and trying not to worry about Taehyung. He’s under Jin’s control tonight, nothing bad will happen.

You hope.

-------

The dining room of the house is enormous, with high ceilings, chandeliers, and ornate paintings on the walls. Seokjin goes all out for his banquets and makes the room seem even more opulent with the addition of candlelight, a trained wait staff, and vases full of roses found on nearly every surface.  Formal dress is required, and all the other boys are dressed just as fancily as Seokjin, though not all of them can pull it off quite as elegantly. He makes sure to hire a string quartet, the most elite caterers, and he even calls in the secondary PhysComs to assist during the meal.

You see, Seokjin has a very specific type of kink he likes to experience. It has to do with food, but it’s not exactly considered foodplay. Jin loves to combine fine dining with sexual acts.

During the first course, PhysComs are beneath the table, sucking off each member while they taste their soups and salads. They’re not allowed to cum until desert, so the PhysComs are only there to get them hard and ready.

The second course marks the beginning of the voyeurism. A fish course is served while a PhysCom is strapped down to the table and teased with at least one vibrator, moans and whimpers filling the room in harmony with the string quartet. Seokjin encourages the boys to talk about their week so far for some family time, largely ignoring the sinful sounds coming from their overstimulated centerpiece.

During the third course, sex is performed on the table by any number or gender of willing PhysComs, while the boys are forced to watch while they eat the stew you made. Jin often likes to give commentary on the PhysCom’s forms, or occasionally direct them around.

Lastly is the dessert course, where you make your grand entrance. All their hungry, lust-crazed eyes are on you, horny as hell from all the buildup. A maid brings you in on a leash, attached to your collar. You walk past the cluster of secondaries, and they aim stares at you, some jealous, some of admiration. You don’t care. Your eyes are on Seokjin. Your owner for the evening.

He stands as you enter, his eyes burning with barely contained lust. “Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you, our dessert.”

The other boys rise as well, and you can sense Taehyung’s stare burning into you, but you avoid meeting his gaze. Your eyes are locked on Seokjin. He orders the maid to help you up, and soon you’re standing atop the table, all eyes upon you. She hands the leash to him. You await his orders.

“Take off your dress, dear.” Seokjin says, sitting back down, and the other boys follow suit. His voice is quiet, but the atmosphere is so charged with sexual tension, you could hear a pin drop.

You reach behind to undo your zipper, the noise simply sinful as your dress falls to the tablecloth, pooling around your feet. You hear a few inhales of breath from around the table.

“Bring the bowl.” Jin’s voice commands again, and a butler hurries over with a jewel encrusted dish, setting it at Seokjin’s right. After that, he dismisses all the other people in the room. The only ones left are you and the seven men around the table.

Jin takes the dog bowl, holding it up to the light and watching the way the crystals shimmer and gleam. “How many loads did you take today, my pet?”

“Sixteen,” you reply obediently, and you see Yoongi’s jaw clench from the corner of your eye.

Jin makes a rumble in his throat, like an affirmative. “So much cum to fit in such tight little holes.”

You nod, awaiting his instructions.

He licks his lips and places the bowl at your feet. “Empty yourself out for me, darling.”

You smile. Kneeling down over the dog bowl, you carefully remove the plug from your cunt, and moan as you feel their cum start to trickle out of you.

You can feel their eyes staring, faces flushed, lips bitten, as their combined releases drip into the dish, slowly coating the bottom.

Seokjin’s hands are tented in front of his face, hiding all but his glittering eyes from view. “Now your ass,” he murmurs huskily, and they all watch as you twist that plug out too, and even more cum joins the rest. Sixteen loads from throughout the day fill the dish, and you look to Seokjin, awaiting further instruction.

“Jimin.” He says, and the boy’s ears perk up. “Would you do the honors of fucking her first?”

Jimin scrambles up, as if unable to move fast enough. He climbs onto the table and unzips his pants, his hands shaking. Meanwhile, Jin orders you on all fours and pushes the dish closer to you. “Why don’t you enjoy your dinner, my pet? It’s been cooking all day.”

He takes such filthy pleasure in scenes like this, it makes your core clench just from the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. “Yes, master.”

You lean down and start to lap at the bowl. You can feel Jimin’s hands on your ass, but… something’s wrong. Why isn’t he fucking you?

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at him, a “what the fuck” look on your face for interrupting the flow of the scene, and see something unexpected. Hesitation colors Jimin’s expression, and he looks between you and Seokjin, seemingly torn.

Everyone’s eyes are on you.

Jimin leans over to speak privately, his tone lowered so only you can hear. “Do… do you want to be fucked right now?”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. Why the hell would he be concerned about that?

Seokjin realizes that something isn’t right, and he snaps his fingers. “Jimin, sit down. Hoseok, go fuck her.”

Hoseok is always a good fuck. He grins and climbs on the table, fishing his cock out of his dress slacks. “Ah, look at this ass. Pretty as always,” he chuckles and gives you a light spank before lining himself up with your entrance. He pushes into you with a heated groan, his hands groping you appreciatively. “So wet, baby…” Soon he’s snapping his hips into you at a good pace, filling you up with his length.

But you can’t focus. You stare at Jimin, sitting shamefully with his head bent. You look to Taehyung, sitting across from him, only to see a smirk on his face. What the hell is going on?

Taehyung subtly catches Jimin’s attention and mouths something to him, but of course it’s Korean, so you can’t make out the words as Hoseok pounds into you. Jimin’s eyes widen and his grip tightens on the stem of his wine glass, his knuckles white as his expression changes to one of anger. Tae merely smirks and sits back in his chair, a challenge in his eyes.

What the fuck is happening? Is this about you?

Your heart sinks through the floor. It has to be. You and your damn lips are the only common denominator in this equation.

Hoseok grabs your leash from Jin and tugs on it, the collar forcing your head back. Your neck feels like it might snap from the sudden strain of trying to keep watching their silent conversation, but it’s no use from this angle, and you give up, forced to stare at the ceiling as your legs quiver and anxiety washes over you, a sense of foreboding starting to build in your chest...

Someone jumps to their feet, their chair scraping back from the force, and something crashes to the ground with the unmistakable noise of breaking glass.

“Jimin!” Seokjin’s voice cuts through the sound of Hobi fucking you, and he halts his thrusts. You’re able to see again, pants of breath from Hoseok filling the silence as Jimin looks down, frustrated at being reprimanded. “What’s gotten into you? Sit down, now.”

Taehyung chuckles, seemingly satisfied with himself, and Jin looks to him with narrowed eyes. “That goes for both of you. Stop fucking around.”

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung merely shrugs. You can see Jungkook place a hand on Jimin’s arm, his eyes wide with concern as he helps him calm down and return to his seat. Namjoon shoots Taehyung a look, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, his eyes still fixed on Jimin.

Seokjin’s attention turns back to your display, sighing from the interruption, and he gestures for Hoseok to go harder on you. Hoseok is all too happy to comply, chuckling as he pushes down on your back, forcing your face into the bowl of cum as he pulls out of you and starts fucking into your ass instead.

Normally this is part of the proceedings. But this time you aren’t prepared, too distracted and worried by Taheyung and Jimin to focus properly, and you gasp into the bowl, choking on the pool of stickiness and sputtering on cum as you turn your face away to try and catch your breath.

Seokjin has no reason to sense anything is amiss with you, as you would sometimes struggle for show. He hums and pets your hair as you’re fucked into the table. You try to inhale, but your lungs won’t work.

You feel suffocated by the weird tension in the room, and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You know this is your fault. The other boys all look uncomfortable. Jimin’s shooting daggers at Taehyung, and Tae is glaring right back. This isn’t right.

You just need a minute to think, a minute to sort this out, to fucking talk to them and clear this up. Fuck, you want Hobi to stop. You want everything to stop. You feel overwhelmed, you can’t take it anymore, and you’re flooded with shame as tears spring to your eyes.

“Bulletproof!”

You cry out your safe word, a sob wracking your body. “Fuck! I’m sorry...”

It takes Hoseok a split second to realize what you said before he pulls out of you, his eyes wide with worry. The others all look just as shocked, and Jin jumps to his feet in an instant, helping you off the table. “What can I do, darling?” He asks with concern, grabbing a napkin and carefully wiping the cum off your face.

He doesn’t question why you broke character, he only wants to help, and that makes you want to cry harder. But you pull yourself together, inhaling deeply to keep any more tears from falling. There’s only one person who can help you clear your head, and your gaze turns to him, your voice wavering. “I need to speak privately with Kim Namjoon.”

All eyes fall on their leader, who looks just as surprised to be requested. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.” Namjoon gets up, his high backed chair scraping against the polished wooden floor as he circles around the table to you.

Namjoon is the conduit between them and their company. An ambassador of sorts. If anyone could help you sort this out, it would be him.

As he comes over, he takes off his suit jacket, draping the garment over your shoulders to help cover your naked form. “We’ll just be a minute, guys,” he calls over his shoulder, one supportive hand on your back as he guides you into the other room, leaving behind a different sort of tension, one of fear and worry.

-------

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Namjoon says softly, shutting the door behind him. He’s taken you to one of the larger bathrooms, with a few areas to sit in addition to a toilet, soaking tub, shower stalls, and a few sinks. “Is everything okay?”

Clearly it isn’t, but him trying to bring some normalcy into the situation makes you want to cry all over again. “No, it’s not.” You sit down on a cushioned bench, covering you face with your hands. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

“No, no. Shh… it’s okay, honey, really.” His hand on your back is more of a comfort than you’d care to admit, and you find yourself wishing he would hold you, wishing you could cry in his arms.

But no, damn it, that’s what’s gotten you into trouble in the first place.

“Mr. Kim, I-”

“Please, call me Namjoon. I don’t mind.” He gives you a small smile, and his willingness to be informal with you adds another layer of comfort.

“Namjoon.” You start again, and he looks to you with sincerity. “I, uh… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this.” You give a rueful laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” He rubs your back soothingly, offering you a tissue from a nearby box to dry your eyes.

“Thanks.” You blow your nose, and a part of you feels self-conscious, letting him see you this way. You haven’t been this out of character in front of him since you were hired. “Um… okay. So, earlier today, two of the other members kissed me. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did...” It tumbles out of you in a rush, and you glance down nervously. Damn. This the third time you’ve lowered your walls in front of them today. What the hell is happening?

He seems to chew on your statement for a moment before proceeding, his tone cautious. “It was against your will? They forced themselves on you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No! No, they didn’t- it wasn’t like that. It was… nice.” You’re ashamed to admit that you took pleasure in breaking your own rules, but you can’t let him think they were forcing you to do it. “I enjoyed it.”

He looks more confused. “So, you did want it to happen…?”

“Not at first! I mean… ugh, I shouldn’t have let it happen at all.” You grouse, still kicking yourself for being so unprofessional. “I think at least one of them might… have developed feelings for me.”

A moment of clarity lights his eyes. “You’re worried about keeping up boundaries.”

You nod miserably. Thank god someone in this house understands your limits.

“Who was it?”

“Huh?” Your gaze snaps to him.

He repeats the question. “Who kissed you?”

Your eyes lower to the floor. You feel bad dropping names, but he probably has a good reason for asking. “Taehyung and Jimin.”

His mouth stretches into a thin line. “I see.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like they’re trying to breach my professional boundaries. But... I like it. But I shouldn’t!” You groan. “Fuck, I have to keep this job...” A weary sigh leaves your throat and you try to keep your tears at bay this time.

Namjoon makes a noise of understanding. He seems to ponder the problem for a moment before speaking. “Those two are young. They’re still figuring out their feelings.” He says it to comfort you, you’re sure. But you decide not to point out that he’s only a year older than them. “But I think I know how to fix this.”

You sit up straight. “You do? How?”

Namjoon smiles, his dimples poking through. “Like I said, they’re young. They want what they can’t have.” He smirks. “You made kissing off-limits, right? So they want it now.”

You’re following his logic so far. It would make sense that something off-limits is more tantalizing… that’s certainly how you felt when kissing them.

He continues. “Look, if you liked it, then that means it’ll happen again. No offense, but willpower is damned when it comes to matters of the heart.” He gives a wry chuckle.

“Remind me how we’re fixing the situation?” You ask skeptically, wrapping his jacket around yourself and nudging him with your arm.

He smiles. “It’s simple, really. I think you have to desensitize them to kissing. We need to show them it doesn’t mean anything that they kissed you. You’re still just their PhysCom.”

You blink, still at a loss. “How do we do that?”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and he has that same tender look in his eyes as he does right after you would get him off.

“I think we should go out there, and I should kiss you senseless, sweetheart.”

[bard-llama]

Know Thine Enemy (Iorveth/Roche) Part 2

Summary: Iorveth spends far too much time thinking about Roche's proposition and comes to a decision.

Read on AO3 | Read Part 1 on Tumblr

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Notes: Warning that this chapter includes a bit of a dubcon/noncon fantasy for a few paragraphs. It starts near the end of the chapter with "What if...what if Roche hadn’t let him go?" and ends at "Before he could think more about that..."

Elder Speech:

Dh’oine = Elder Speech for Human

Bloede = expletive along the lines of stupid/silly/fucking i.e. Bloede Dh’oine = Fucking Human

Aindeoin = taken from the Scottish Gaelic word for spite, a dh ’aindeoin, according to Google.

--

When Iorveth awoke from his little bender, his mouth tasted like feet, his head was pounding, and attempting to open his eye just led to sharp spikes of sunlight drilling into it.

Suddenly it was very easy to remember why he usually didn’t drink these days. Aside from his responsibility to his men, of course. But it had been a long time since he’d imbibed regularly and his tolerance reflected that. In other words, it was nonexistent. And he vaguely remembered drinking a lot.

Iorveth groaned piteously, and someone cleared their throat next to him and pressed a waterskin to his mouth. He drank greedily, not even bothering to open his eye. There were two people likely to take care of him, and Imadia would have said something scathing by now. That meant that the gentle hand that stroked over his hair belonged to Ciaran. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, which likely also meant that Ciaran had put him to bed and watched over him.

“Thank you,” he rasped after Ciaran took the waterskin away.

“What happened to set you off?”

“Ah.” Iorveth flushed, remembering exactly what had set him off. Or rather, who. But he couldn’t tell Ciaran that. “I was careless, got caught in a hunter’s trap,” he said instead, shame coloring his words as he thought back on the humiliating encounter.

“Oh.” Ciaran was silent for a long moment and Iorveth squinted his eye open. His friend had his lips pressed tightly together, clearly holding back laughter.

“Ugh,” Iorveth covered his face with his hands. “If you’re going to laugh, you owe me another drink. Maybe it’ll make this headache bearable.”

“You’re in luck,” Ciaran chuckled. “Imadia left you a tonic.” He uncorked something noxious smelling and helped Iorveth struggle upright. Iorveth braced himself – knowing Imadia, the tonic would work miracles, but likely taste like death. She liked to teach him lessons by doing things like that.

He was right. Swallowing the tonic down as quickly as possible did not stop him from wishing he could claw out his tongue. But, after a few minutes had passed, he did have to admit that he felt better. Well enough to venture out of bed, anyway.

“What did I do, anyway?” Iorveth asked, not truly sure he wanted to know. If he’d actually said something incriminating about Roche, Ciaran would have already brought it up.

“You told a lot of stories about what an amazing debater you are,” Ciaran said, threads of laughter still in his voice. “Apparently it was very important that we all know that you once defeated Filavandrel.”

“And I was right,” Iorveth couldn’t help pointing out. Filavandrel may be respected as a leader of elves in Dol Blathanna, but he was equally well known for his eloquence. Defeating him was a point of personal pride.

Not that those sorts of victories mattered anymore. But it was a good memory, one that brought a smile to his face.

“When you’re ready,” Ciaran said, rolling his eyes, “Sylvar had an idea he wants to run by you.”

“Oh?”

Ciaran nodded. “I’ll let him share the details, but I think it has merit, if we plan well. Striking outside of our usual territory will throw off those damn Blue Stripes, too.” He stepped over to the door and opened it for the young elf.

“Sir,” he nodded, a smirk curling the corner of his lips. Iorveth sighed. He should have know Kythaela’s insistence on calling him sir would spread.

“Tell me about your idea.”

Sylvar eagerly stepped forward, unrolling a map over his table. “I think we should hit the supply caravan to Ellander.”

Iorveth cocked his eyebrow. Ellander lay a short distance from the western edge of the Scoia’tael’s forest. The small city was home to a Temeria army base, three taverns, two whorehouses, and the Temple of Melitele, where priestesses tended to the wounded and weary. “Their supplies come overland, from Vizima.” Which was further to the west and would require them to circle around Ellander without the cover of the forest.

“Usually, yes sir. But apparently there was a recent landslide on the road from Vizima, so they’re sending supplies by ship, across the Yaruga. That means they have to come ashore not too far from our borders. We can hit them before they ever realize there’s anything to fear.”

“Hmm,” Iorveth hummed, thinking it over. They did need new supplies badly. And this time, he hoped the army sent their men better tasting rations. “When?”

“Our spies report that the ship should arrive in three days,” Ciaran answered. “That gives us three days to plan this carefully.”

Of course, it also meant three days for someone to leak their plans. Not that Iorveth thought any of his men were traitors, but Roche had his ways of getting information. Even if no one sold them out, they would probably encounter the Blue Stripes.

That was fine. He could plan for the Blue Stripes. He just wished he could plan for Roche outside of anticipating his attacks.

––

Iorveth spent the days leading up to their raid thinking about Roche. More specifically, thinking about how to defeat Roche. Except that naturally turned into thinking about how Roche could have killed him and didn’t, and that led to thinking about the way that Roche had talked about his ears and how his body had gotten...confused. He knew it was confusion because there was no way he could be feeling interest in the dh’oine.

He just – wanted to understand Roche, that was all. It had been a long time since he’d found a worthy debate opponent and Roche showed signs of having a not-disappointing intellect. His body had just confused his interest in knowing Roche for, well, for knowing Roche.

It didn’t help that Roche had propositioned him. He never would have even thought of Roche in that context if the other hadn’t started it. But now that his brain had gone there, he started thinking about it. And thinking about it meant that he desperately, desperately wanted to go on another bender until he could stop thinking.

But he had a responsibility to the Scoia’tael and he would not fail them. Even if it meant being stuck with thoughts of what a dh’oine – what Roche – might be like in bed.

If he accepted. Which of course, he never would. Their prior encounter had clearly been a fluke, a strange event that would never be replicated. The next time the met, Roche would probably pretend the whole thing had never happened.

Except to humiliate Iorveth, if he wanted to. After all, he didn’t know that Iorveth’s body had only been confused. But Roche couldn’t possible actually want him. Roche hunted nonhumans; his proposition had clearly been a mistake.

Which was what Iorveth wanted. Of course it was. There was no part of him that felt a little pleased to be the subject of desire for someone again. Not that he was without company when he craved it, but Aen Seidhe valued beauty and his was ruined.

The most common response he’d heard after he lost his eye was, “what a shame.” Iorveth had been considered quite beautiful once, but elves valued aesthetics, and even if Iorveth’s scar weren’t horrific and grotesque, the asymmetry of it would always be considered unpleasant to the eye.

It wasn’t so bad these days, around the Scoia’tael. They were all warriors, they understood scars. They were shameful necessities of the life they fought for.

Still, there was a reason very few people ever saw Iorveth without his bandana on. Even that couldn’t cover everything, but it hid the worst of it, the parts that made faces contort in disgust before people regained control of themselves. Ciaran and Imadia were the only two he trusted enough to see the true horror he was, and even they hadn’t been able to help reacting. He didn’t blame them – he couldn’t stand to look himself in the mirror either – but it was an important reminder. No one could ever want him, not truly.

But gods, it would be nice to actually be wanted, to be someone considered worthy of wooing or courting. Not that he had time for romance, nor would he ever want it with Roche of all people. But it would be nice.

“Almost time.” Ciaran’s voice startled him and again, Iorveth cursed himself for getting lost in thought.

“Wait for my signal,” he ordered. Ciaran handed him a spyglass and Iorveth did a quick check that his people were where they were supposed to be. Then he turned to small caravan below that was slowly loading supplies from the ship. They would wait until the caravan was fully loaded – all the easier to get away with the highest quantity of supplies – and their attack strategy was two-pronged. First, they had to lure out the Blue Stripes. Roche would likely have supplemented his crew with men from Ellander’s army base, so all of Iorveth’s people were here for this operation. If they failed, it would be a massacre.

But they wouldn’t fail. Because Iorveth knew Roche would be coming, knew Roche would attack them. Which meant he’d just needed to figure out how to outmaneuver one man instead of unpredictable guards.

It would almost be fun, if it weren’t for the stakes.

Iorveth signaled Maeral to take her five man squad to attack the boat, as if the supplies hadn’t already been unloaded. Their job was the most dangerous – bait for the Blue Stripes. It was likely more than one of them wouldn’t return, but he trusted Maeral with this command, trusted her to fight with everything she had to return home. She was one of his youngest commanders, but Iorveth hadn’t managed to win a chess match against her in half a decade. She understood tactics and strategy and she looked at the whole field in a way Iorveth had never been able to.

Maeral attacked, her squad engaging the guards around the makeshift dock. It took only a few long heartbeats of waiting before Roche did the expected – surrounded Maerel’s squad and announced his presence.

Now It was Iorveth’s turn. He had thirty soldiers surrounding the Blue Stripes and each had orders to keep the fighting as contained to the makeshift dock as possible. Then, while everyone was busy, Ciaran would take over the caravan with his squad and deliver it to Aindeoin. It was a good plan, and the butterflies in Iorveth’s stomach felt more like anticipation than nerves.

Nonetheless, he could admit that he was just a little bit worried about how his first meeting with Roche would go. What if the dh’oine brought up their last meeting? Iorveth clenched his fists and took a deep breath, pulling his mind back on task.

Then he gave the signal to attack and he leapt out of the tree, landing on a soldier and riding him to the ground. He jumped towards Roche, who caught his blade at the last minute, falling to one knee from the impact.

Iorveth licked his lips, already feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins in the way his heartbeat was thudding rapidly, the way all of his focus seemed to narrow down to Roche.

“How?” Roche demanded, “how did you know we would be lying in wait!?”

Iorveth smirked. “It’s you. Of course you’d be here.” Roche actually seemed taken aback by that. Iorveth should have used the opening to attack, but he felt like gloating. “Expected me to underestimate you?”

Roche’s mouth slowly twisted into a grin. “I should have known better.” He pushed forward off of his knee, thrusting his sword towards Iorveth’s face.

It was easy enough to bat the blade aside, and now they were truly fighting and Iorveth’s grin was probably just as feral as Roche’s.

“Guess those pointy ears are sharper than I thought,” Roche said and Iorveth almost stumbled on his next step. “And here I thought we’d managed to get intel past you.”

Nearby, Sylvar cut down his opponent and rounded on Roche. “You dare speak to our leader in such vulgar terms!?”

Iorveth could feel his ears growing hot as he flushed. Oh gods, could this get any worse?

Roche’s second in command, Ves, dove to intercept Sylvar while Roche just looked baffled.

“I didn’t even use a good insult,” he frowned, and the weight of his sword against Iorveth’s own shifted. Iorveth was ready to block, but Roche just seemed to be adjusting his grip. Iorveth’s men closed in around them, pushing the Blue Stripes back, away from where Ciaran was already making off with their haul.

Roche didn’t seem to recognize that, though, instead looking at Iorveth through narrowed eyes. “Didn’t know your ears could turn that red,” he said casually, as if such a statement weren’t wildly out of place on a battlefield.

Iorveth made a small noise, eyes wide and something unfamiliar coiling in his gut. Horror and humiliation, certainly, but there was also a part of him that was pleased that Roche apparently intended his proposition, that Roche wanted him.

All the elves in earshot let out near-simultaneous scandalized gasps that almost got them killed and Iorveth could feel his face flushing bright red. This was a disaster that he had not signed up to deal with today.

And even though his men had the advantage, even though they’d pushed the Blue Stripes back, nearly cornered them, Iorveth found himself giving the signal to fall back. He wasn’t running away – it was simply strategic to call for a retreat at this point.

The last thing he heard before he left the battlefield behind was Roche grumbling about pointy ears and confusing strategies.

Despite leaving the battle earlier than planned, they had managed to keep the Blue Stripes distracted for long enough for Ciaran and the caravan to make it into the forest.

Thank the gods for that, because Iorveth never would have forgiven himself otherwise. Though, he wasn’t sure it mattered whether he forgave himself, because he was already contemplating burying himself in the forest somewhere to never be seen again.

“The nerve of that whoreson!” Sylvar ranted far too loudly, exposing Iorveth’s humiliation to even more elves.

Rinn, his favorite little spy, smacked Sylvar over the head and held a finger up to her lips.

“She’s telling you to shut up,” Kythaela pointed out helpfully.

Actually, if Rinn chose to spoke, it would probably be a lot more impolite than that. But Iorveth was the only one she felt comfortable enough to speak around, except for Imadia on rare occasion.

Still, she was right. The last thing he wanted was for word to spread about Roche’s crude words. Iorveth could feel himself blushing just at the thought.

Sylvar grumbled the rest of the way back to Aindeoin, but he didn’t immediately start shouting about Iorveth’s humiliation, so that was something.

“Let’s get a drink,” Kythaela slipped her arm through Sylvar’s and bodily dragged him away. Iorveth smiled at the apologetic look she sent him and followed behind at a more sedate pace.  

A short time later, as his Scoia’tael sat around the campfires – built in special stone pits to prevent the trees from catching alight – feasting and drinking, Iorveth found himself strangely unable to adjust to the mood. They had plentiful supplies now and had achieved a victory against the Blue Stripes with minimal losses. He should be as lighthearted and jovial as his brethren who chattered and laughed around him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about earlier’s humiliation, about the way he’d been propositioned in front of his men and the way he’d visibly reacted, bright red for anyone to see.

Instead of drowning himself in drink the way he had a few days before, Iorveth found himself slowly sipping wine as he stood on the outskirts of the feast, leaning against the tree trunk their dining hall was built into. He spotted Rinn sitting on a branch above the feast and smiled to himself. She always did prefer her own company over that of others.

He had been the one to find her, all those years ago. Iorveth had killed a group of dh’oine standing over the bodies of elves and only after the fact had he realized that one of the elves still lived.

Rinn had been completely mute at that point. She was strong willed and bounced back from tragedy fairly quickly, but her speech had not returned for years. And even now, she preferred silence, though he wasn’t sure how much of that was trouble speaking versus not wanting to bother. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it was the latter, but then, he sometimes wished he could avoid speaking.

Rinn noticed him watching and waved at him. Then, even though he was staring right at her, he wasn’t quite sure how she managed to disappear. It was a special talent of hers, to go unnoticed.

Originally, he hadn’t wanted her to join the Scoia’tael. She had been young when he found her, about a decade under the age of majority for an elf, and while Iorveth had trouble understanding how some people could choose not to fight, he did believe that their people deserved to grow up in peace. So he’d sent her to Vergen, the Dwarven city in Upper Aedirn where they sent all refugees who came to the Scoia’tael for help. It wasn’t a paradise, and dwarves and elves had longstanding differences, but it was still a better city than one run by humans.

Rinn had gone to Vergen. He’d sent her multiple times, in fact. But somehow, she kept popping back up in Aindeoin and Iorveth had never been able to figure out how. After the fourth time, he’d decided that if she was determined to be here, he would put those skills to use.

Of course, with her not speaking to anyone – including him, at the time, as she had still been learning hand signs, though she managed to get her will across quite well without using words at all – they’d had to get inventive on how she could communicate the intel that she picked up hanging around where no sensible person would.

He still didn’t know how she’d gotten inside Ellander’s army barracks, and admittedly, he didn’t know what he would do with the detailed sketch of the Blue Stripes’ cots, but hey, intel was intel. And there were times that a picture of the situation was much more useful than a verbal report. Such as when you realized that your enemies weren’t just comrades, but family.

It was in the way Rinn drew them sitting around the campfire together or sleeping in a huddle in the cold, never aware of their silent observer determinedly putting their likeness to paper. The Blue Stripes were so clearly more than just people who fought side by side. They cared about each other.

A realization like that one was valuable. It meant that the team had a weakness that could be exploited. If they cared about each other, then they could be used as leverage against each other.

Only Iorveth had immediately known it wouldn’t work. Because he knew Roche, even if he didn’t know the dh’oine, and Roche was like him. Roche was a man who would do what he had to, even if it destroyed him.

If Iorveth had shared what he’d seen in Rinn’s drawings with Ciaran, his second in command would want them to kidnap one of the commandos, to use them as a hostage.

But Roche would not let himself be controlled like that. If Iorveth tried, Roche would shoot him through his dh’oine comrade if he had to. Because Roche wasn’t a good man, just like Iorveth wasn’t. Both of them would sacrifice everything for their cause. It was just a shame their two causes were opposed.

So Iorveth had filed Rinn’s sketches of the Blue Stripes away without ever sharing what he’d seen. It wasn’t a realization anyone else was likely to make. Aside from Rinn and a few other choice spies, Iorveth’s men only ever saw the Blue Stripes in the midst of battle. And while the Blue Stripes watched each other’s backs, they were professionals.

But Iorveth had spies for a reason. It was his job to learn everything he could about his enemies. It was also his job to use that intel, but the truth was, he was scared of what might happen if he did. He didn’t want his fight with Roche to turn into a fight of whose morals could sink lower.

Iorveth was scared because he knew he would do it. When backed into a corner, there was very little he wouldn’t do for the Scoia’tael, for the cause of a free elven state. He wasn’t sure there was a limit to the depths he would sink to. He already knew that he would sacrifice his people if he had to – that’s what it meant to order his men to play bait – and he had once believed that he would never kill another elf.

Iorveth laughed bitterly to himself. Once upon a time, he’d genuinely thought he’d never resort to violence.

How the mighty have fallen, those he once knew might have said. But he was still alive while they lay dead, their ideals small defense in the face of human hatred, so he rather thought his position spoke for itself.

That was how most recruits came to the Scoia’tael – because someone they knew had finally been beaten beyond what they could take, and they were tired and scared of the dh’oine mobs that came with their pitchforks and swords and left the land running red with blood.

Iorveth glanced around the dining hall, noting the scars and injuries on his comrades, all caused by dh’oine. There wasn’t a Scoia’tael without a scar, wasn’t a one of them who hadn’t been damaged by the dh’oine and their hatred.

Some more so than others. That had been how he’d first heard of Sylvar – the entire camp had been gossiping about how someone actually had worse scars than Iorveth. Not to his face, of course. But near enough that Iorveth had easily heard.

Few elves had even seen how bad his scars truly were, but Iorveth had to admit that they were still right – Sylvar’s were worse. There was scarcely any skin that wasn’t distorted from the burn scars that covered most of his body.

Dh’oine had been responsible, of course. Sylvar and his mother had lived peacefully in Ellander, more or less avoiding trouble with dh’oine. Until the day a mob broke into their house, beat Sylvar half to death, and burned the building to the ground.

Sylvar had been lucky. He’d escaped. Barely.

His mother hadn’t been so fortunate. But then, Iorveth reflected, most of the younger elves had joined the Scoia’tael because they wanted vengeance against the dh’oine who had killed their parents.

Or used them. Taredd’s parents had been better off living under human rule than most. As affluent traders, money opened what doors their race barred. But dh’oine greed was a constant, and eventually, they decided they didn’t want elves to be prosperous. And if they got rid of the elves, well, then there was all that coin, just for the taking.

Iorveth always thought his hatred of humanity couldn’t get any deeper, but every time a new child – because they were children, not yet even a century of life! – joined the Scoia’tael, it burned that much brighter.

He tried to remind himself that there were good dh’oine out there. Supposedly.

The problem was, the only example he could think of was Vernon Roche, and he could hardly be called good when he had so much blood on his hands.

But then, so did Iorveth.

Perhaps that was why he wished he could have a conversation with Roche. They were, in many ways, very similar, and yet so very, very different. Such contrast practically guaranteed an interesting debate.

If it were possible to just – not set aside, because the racism elves faced could never just be set aside, but if they could meet without trying to kill each other. To just talk. Well, probably fight, but verbal fighting, the kind Iorveth used to have mastered, the kind that had once been the only kind of fighting he’d done.

That had been a long time ago now.

He didn’t regret doing what he had to. But he was just so tired. Iorveth wished there were somewhere he could go where he could leave the fighting at the door. Somewhere where he could talk to Roche and receive an answer rather than an attack.

Except Roche hadn’t attacked him that day in the forest. The dh’oine had threatened him, certainly, but even after Iorveth had been released, Roche had made no move towards his sword. Iorveth himself had been the one to attack, even if it had been a pathetic attempt. His embarrassment had been too overwhelming at the time, but now, now he wondered if Roche choosing not to attack was as much of an offer as his crass remarks.

Maybe...maybe it would be worth taking him up on it? Just for a conversation, not for sex. Iorveth had no interest in sex with a dh’oine.

So why had being helpless in Roche’s grasp made him hot and squirmy that day in the forest? Why had his ears flushed so red and why had his cock reacted when Roche had dragged his dagger ever so delicately over his throat?

Iorveth shivered and cleared his throat. He really shouldn’t be thinking about the way his confused body had reacted. Was reacting.

He shifted uncomfortably, dearly grateful that his gambeson and mail hid the exact way his body was reacting. His body was obviously still confused, because there was nothing that he should find appealing about being helpless under Roche’s blade.

Iorveth swallowed and bit his lip. Perhaps he should take this line of thinking somewhere more private, just in case his body continued to get the wrong idea.

Or, part of his mind whispered, he could stay here. There was no need to draw attention to himself by leaving early and that little curl of humiliation in his belly at the idea that someone could find out made him shift and clench around nothing. It was uncomfortably good, the way the shame and lust and general confusion Roche inspired fizzled together in his stomach and made him sensitive.

Iorveth focused on breathing evenly even as every shift of his weight and every squeeze of his thighs sent shivers of pleasure through his body. His hose was soaked with wetness from his cunt and Iorveth bit his lip, feeling his cock twitch at the twinge of pain.

What would sex with a dh’oine like Roche even be like? Iorveth couldn’t see it being gentle, but he liked a little bit of roughness himself. And thinking back on their encounter in the woods when Iorveth had been caught – Roche had been pretty good at taking charge, too. Iorveth hadn’t been aware that he was interested in that, but something about Roche standing over him, holding Iorveth’s own knife to his throat…

Iorveth shuddered, then cleared his throat and looked around wildly to make sure no one noticed.

What if...what if Roche hadn’t let him go? What if the Blue Stripes commander had kept that knife pressed against the hollow of Iorveth’s collarbone? Iorveth licked his lips, imagining what might have happened if Vernon Roche were an entirely different kind of man. The kind of man who would force Iorveth’s mouth open and slide his cock inside.

What would he taste like? Humans were warmer than elves in general, and their cocks looked so strange in comparison. What would it feel like on his tongue? In the back of his throat? Inside him?

Before it could escape his lips, Iorveth swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth just from the thought of being filled with a cock and chased it down with a gulp of wine for good measure.

Roche could have done anything to him with Iorveth tied up and hanging like that, and Iorveth found himself wishing that Roche had, that he’d cupped Iorveth through his hose, maybe ripped it open to slip fingers inside his cunt while Iorveth sucked desperately. The smell of Roche would overwhelm him like that and for the first time, Iorveth wanted that, wanted a dh’oine’s scent to cover him.

Before he could think more about that, Ciaran broke away from a group of young elves and approached him. Iorveth hastily swallowed more wine, trying to pull himself together.

“Iorveth,” Ciaran called, reaching out to clap Iorveth on the shoulder. There was no part of Iorveth that wondered how differently Roche’s hand would feel. “Are you okay? Sylvar mentioned that that bloede dh’oine was crude and vile, as dh’oine so often are.”

Iorveth barely noticed the disgust pulling at Ciaran’s face, instead thinking about exactly how crude and vile Roche had been, talking about his ears in front of his men. Roche had seemed quite fixated on his ears, actually, and he wondered what the dh’oine’s rough hands would feel like against him. What would it feel like to have the dh’oine hot and solid on his tongue while Roche stroked his ears? Gods, Iorveth wouldn’t even need to be touched further; he could come just like that.

He was coming just like that, Iorveth realized with a stifled gasp, biting down hard on his tongue to hold back any noises and focusing all his being on not showing it. As he utterly ruined his hose, Iorveth was forced to lean his weight into the tree behind him lest his trembling legs collapse under him.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.

Ciaran frowned at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you. I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay. The dh’oine didn’t try anything, did he?”

It took all of Iorveth’s concentration to form words. “No,” he rasped. More’s the pity.

Gods, his face and ears must be terribly red from the way Ciaran was looking at him and a curl of shame twisted through his pleasure. Instead of detracting from the his enjoyment, it made the sensation more, and Iorveth could feel the way his shoulders loosened, the slight headache that he hadn’t even noticed dissipating.

“Good,” Ciaran said. “And I’m sorry that happened. I hope you know it’s not a reflection on you – we all know dh’oine are horny for anything that moves.”

“Mmm,” Iorveth managed a small reassuring smile and Ciaran seemed to accept it, raising his glass in a quick salute and then heading back into the thick of the festivities.

Iorveth chewed on Ciaran’s comment for a moment, wondering why it bothered him. It was true, dh’oine would fuck literally anything.

But Roche didn’t want anything. He’d propositioned Iorveth. Roche hadn’t commented on anyone else’s ears or dragged a knife slowly down anyone else’s throat or – well, really, Roche hadn’t paid much attention to anyone else at all, had he?

Iorveth bit his lip as something warm swelled in his chest. Maybe...maybe he should accept Roche’s offer.

What was the worst that could happen?

Coda: Iorveth and the Dragon

Here, Rinn signed as she stepped into Iorveth’s office. She dropped a sketch on his desk, but unlike her usual reports, this scene was clearly not from reality. In fact, it appeared to be–

“A dragon?” A smile pulled at Iorveth’s lips. Unlike dh’oine, elves saw dragons as the beautiful creatures they were. There had never been elven dragon hunters.

It’s you, Rinn grinned. See, he’s wearing your bandana!

Indeed, the detailed charcoal dragon did appear to be wearing a bandana. Looking closer, Iorveth could even see the edge of a scar going down the dragon’s snout. The dragon’s wings were spread in a silhouette that reminded Iorveth of his compound bow.

“It’s amazing,” Iorveth whispered, eyes roving across the sketch to take in all the details. “Why a dragon?”

Rinn shrugged. Dragons are cool.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that.

“Thank you,” he smiled widely at her. “I will treasure it.”

Rinn beamed at him before turning and jumping out the window. Considering his office was the highest point in Aindeoin, the way she easily jumped from branch to branch until vanishing from sight was quite impressive.

But not as impressive as Dragon Iorveth. He wondered if he could get it framed.

––

Years later, after Iorveth discovered Saskia’s true form, he showed her the picture Rinn had drawn him. She was impressed by how detailed the dragon was and praised Rinn’s skill.

That had been the moment Iorveth had decided to follow her.

[constantconfusion111]

And Suddenly, Green Eyes

Thanks very much @nomoredarksadlonelybatman for the lovely request, I hope you’ll enjoy this. :D

Lenght: 1.7K Pairing: Khai x Third Summary: Khai’s romantic history is longer than the phone book, he’s very familiar with the concept of exes. And yet, he somehow wasn’t prepared to learn that Third had one as well. AO3 link

XXXXX

Khai wasn’t the one, in their group of gangsters, you’d go to if you ever needed advice. He knew it and wasn’t discontent with that knowledge. Khai’s departement was more around comfort and cheering up. If you felt down and just wanted a change of mind or pace, Khai was your man. His personality was exuberant, just on that side of overwhelming that it was impossible to focus on anything but him. Great for distractions.

If you wanted a sympathetic advice, you asked Two, if you wanted a practical one, you went for Third. If you wanted a crazy advice, Bone would be more than happy to oblige.

And yet, Khai would still tell anyone that would listen, and also many that couldn’t care less, that they should all just fall in love with their best friends and start dating already.

He had had his fair share of romantic experiences. Many would say he overindulged for a long time. And yet dating his best friend was an unprecedented experience for him. Things just… made sense. He could be flirty and seductive in the morning, enticing Third into following him in bed, despite all reason and fake excuses, with just the right look or the touch of a finger. And then be an absolute mess in the evening, too drunk and walking straight into a poll or vomiting over his favourite shoes without fear the other would be revulsed. Well, the vomiting part definitely revulsed Third, he still led him home and cleaned him up before holding him in bed all night.

They also knew each other inside and out. How one preferred their coffee in the morning, which snack were the other’s favourite. How one absolutely hated a particular smell while the other couldn’t stand a random noise.

Sometimes, it also meant they knew a little bit too much.

“Hey Khai, didn’t you promise that girl you’d become an idol so you could sing love songs for her in front of the whole world?”

Two Bone and Khai all turned in the direction Third was pointing out with a head nod. Next to a juice stall, in the middle of the busy mall, was standing a stunning young woman. Her hair was white and braided in complex loops at the back of her head, giving a lovely view of her face. ‘Moji’ supplied his brain. Third had a formidable memory.

“I didn’t know you said that,” laughed Bone, sipping on his frozen coffee without trying to hide his mockery. 

“How’s the career going for you Khai?” continued Two, bumping their shoulders together. 

Not one to take the teasing lying down, Khai turned his nose up and looked at his friends with contempt.

“It’s a work in progress, but my friends are definitely bringing me down.” 

The three broke in a concert of good natured protest so sudden that some bystanders turned to look at that.

“Third? Is it really you?” 

The unknown voice came from a man, tall, pretty much their age. His features were simple, Khai wouldn’t turn around if their path crossed in the street, but he was built like an athlete: strong shoulders, broad chest, thick thighs. He was accompanied by a shorter male, a foreigner with blond hair, that looked at them with a curiosity Khai imagined must be reflected in his own eyes.

“Ard? I can’t believe this!” 

Third had a large smile, the kind Khai knew for a fact was sincere, which only helped to exacerbated his interest. He didn’t remember anyone called Ard, and he certainly didn’t remember that face. But him and Third looked quite comfortable around each other.

“Since when are you back in Thailand?” asked Third, getting closer to the man.

“I arrived last weekend. I’ll just be staying 2 weeks to visit family and then I’ll be going back.”

“Still living in Germany?”

“Yes, you remembered!”

Both men seemed to have forgotten their respective groups and were happily catching up with the usual ‘and what do you do know’ or even ‘you look great!’ or ‘we should have lunch before you leave’. Khai made eye contact with the foreigner who smiled at him and wai-ed back, which seemed to catch Third’s attention at last.

“Ah, Ard. These are my friends, we met at Uni, we all work together now. This is Bone, Two, and Khai.”

“This is Lee, my boyfriend.”

They all greeted each other properly, and Ard put an arm on the blond’s shoulder to bring him closer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to barge in during your free time, I was just so surprised to see you Third.”

“I’m happy you saw me. Your Line ID is still the same?” wondered the shorter man, grabbing his phone to check his contacts.

“Yes, message me and we can grab some food soon!”

Shortly after checking both still had the other in their contacts, Ard and Lee left to continue their window shopping.

“So, who was this guy Third? I don’t remember him from anywhere,” asked Two, beating Khai to the punch.

“You guys never met Ard. We were in high school together. He left for Europe just before Uni to join a football club. He was already super good back in the days.

“Get us free tickets for a cool match! Use your connections!” pleaded Bone, already checking which games they could hope to snatch tickets to.

“I haven’t spoken to him in 4 years, I’m not going to pester him for free tickets Bone.”

“Come on!” joined Khai, grabbing Third by the arm to make his plea more efficient. “What’s the point of having famous friends if you can’t get some things out of it?”

Third scoffed, but didn’t try to dislodge him.

“First of all, that’s a terrible way of thinking. Second, he’s not exactly my friend.”

“That’s not what it looked like, you guys seemed pretty close,” said Two.

“Well… we were.” conceded Third, shuffling slightly from one foot to the other. He glanced briefly at Khai before refocusing on the other two. “But that’s because we used to… well. We used to date.”

Once again, their shouts made people turn around with worry.

“Third banged a football super star!”

“Way to go Third! I’m so proud of you!” Two actually clapped him in the back for that.

“I don’t know that he’s a super star…”

“He didn’t say no to the banging…” muttered Bone.

Yup, Khai had noted that as well.

So they may know so, so much about each other. But apparently there were still some secrets to unravel.

Xxxxxx

“So… How long were you guys together?”

Third looked up from the spring onions he was slicing, starting to prepare their dinner for  the evening. Khai was posted on the other side of the worktop, picking at his nails, elbows propped against the counter. It took Third a second to put the random question in context and remember their meeting with Ard earlier today.

“Mhh… we started dating our last year of high school, so a bit under a year.”

‘Less than us, take that super star’ thought Khai, pursing his lips in an attempt to hide a smirk.

“Why did you break up?” he wondered, trying to maintain a light tone. 

“Well, he went to Germany to play football. It was kind of natural to break up,” explained Third, moving from his spring onions to little green pepper, chopping and cleaning the vegetables.

“I see. Is he any good? What position does he play in?”

“I’m not sure, I think it was something like attacker maybe? Is it the right name?”

“You dated a footballer for a year and you don’t even know the name of the positions? Did you not talk when you were together”

At that, Third raised a brow and looked at his boyfriend through his eyelashes.

“We were a bit too busy to talk about football.” 

“Why? What were you doing?” asked Khai, frowning.

Third simply stared at him, blinking slowly.

Khai gasped.

“You little pervert!”

“Are you serious right now?! Why do you care anyways? That was half a decade ago,” complained the shorter man, abandoning his knife, crossing his arms on his chest and staring down at his boyfriend with an incredulous look.

“Well, would you go back to him?”

Third felt his eyebrow raise incredulously. He couldn’t make much sense of the conversation overall, but Khai seemed to grow agitated, abandoning all pretense of nonchalance.

“He has a boyfriend.”

The answer only seemed to offend him further. 

“That’s not what I asked!” he shouted.

“Of course no. You’re talking nonsense Khai, stop it.”

“And if he didn’t have a boyfriend? Would you go back to him?”

Third had to take a deep breath to avoid shouting himself. Khai soft features were furrowed and tense. Only 3 years of experience of pining allowed Third to recognise that look for what it was: jealousy. 

What an idea, Imagining that Khai would ever feel jealousy for him. His cold way with women never left anyone with the slightest shadow of a doubt. Never gave anyone any reason to wonder if, maybe, Third could ever not love Khai.

Third was left flagabaster for an instant before snapping out of it. Going around the counter, he walked to Khai that was staring at him, as if afraid today was the day he’d get stabbed. Instead, he slowly slid his arms around the taller man’s neck and brought him into a firm hug.

“Khai. When Ard left, I was sad because we got along quite well, and he was the first boy I did stuff with. I recovered in a summer. And then I met you and frankly Ard completely slipped my mind. If you left for Germany, I wouldn’t get over it. I’d come with you”

Khai hugged him back, bringing him as close as he could. He buried his nose in the soft mass of hair and smelled Third’s usual brand of shampoo as he left his tense shoulders relax.

“Does it have to be Germany?”

“What?” asked Third, confused. He pulled back to look at his boyfriend’s face.

“I don’t really want to go to Germany. Would you follow me to Korea or Australia maybe.”

Third half laughed, half sighed, and definitely rolled his eyes.

“Germany is a metaphor, I’d follow you anywhere, dumbass.”

Third pulled down until their lips met in a kiss, softly brushing together while they breathed the same air. Khai grabber Third’s hips in an inviting grip, slithering a hand under his shirt to gently rub the delicate skin underneath. As Khai slotted a knee between Third’s legs, he could only spare the ex-boyfriend one last thought. 

‘He’s the dumbass, who could give up on these lips just to kick a ball around.’

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Scars

Veg-notables:  This one was hard for me to get through for some reason possibly something to do with my muse getting distracted by something shiny and skipping out of the friggen room while I was being berated by an angry person on the phone… GrRrRrrrR  After which I poking at it for 2 days and I think I have poked it to death… Result = not 100% satisfied with it but if I look at it much more my brain may combust.. so here you go

This is an continuation of my vegetable Virgil story line,

Thanks @gumnut-logic for taking a look at this for me last night and your continued encouragement, 

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: Conversations and vague memories  

Characters: Virg/Kayo and Scott

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous posts can be found HERE.   

15. Scars

Enjoy…

oOo

Virgil blinked slowly as he resurfaced from the depths of slumber, his groggy mind coming back on line through the foggy vagueness of confusion and disuse.  

His body felt stiff and oddly overused for some random reason that he couldn’t remember.  Like he’d been on back to back missions and had over exerted himself but he couldn’t recollect the context and breadth of those rescues.  

Fleeting images of flames and rubble hovered around the periphery but when he tried to latch on to them they skittered away like dust motes in the ethereal light of dawn streaming through a villa window. 

As a throb of something in his temple made him grimace he gave up on the sluggy chase through his memories and shifted to his physical reality.  

A steady beeping sound coming from nearby rang dully through his ears and as it counted its rhythm he noted that it seemed to be keeping pace with thump beneath his breastbone. His mind conjured up the image of a heart monitor, that with the stinging antiseptic quality to the air had him drawing the immediate conclusion of a  medical facility but he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.  

The hard mattress under him and the feeling of rough sterile sheets further confirmed his findings along with the moderate pang of an IV catheter as it pulled at the crook of his arm and the itch caused by the medical tape keeping it in place.

Further assessing an oddness struck him ,  one side of him felt exceedingly warm and heavy while the other was slightly chilled.  

Peeling gritty eyes open that he hadn’t consciously realized he had closed,  he looked down.  He couldn’t help the lazy smile that turned up the corner of his lips as soft, dark strands tickled his cheek and a sultry scent of living jasmine curled its way up his nose.  

Kayo…

She was snuggled into his side,  an arm slung sleepily across his midsection and her head tucked in tight to his chest. Her own chest rising and falling steadily with sleep, the limpness of her limbs suggesting she was buried deep within R.E.M and most likely not to rouse for a while. 

Lifting his head took some effort, but he managed and lay a soft kiss on her  crown,  breathing deep and savouring her comforting fragrance.

With a  little more effort, he stretched his arm across his body despite the IV line and oximeter on his finger and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, slipping it neatly behind her ear.  

Energy spent, he let his head fall back on the thin pillow and his hand came to rest over hers on his chest. His fingers automatically threading between hers. 

God, what the hell had happened to him? He felt like the world had steam rolled over him a few dozen times.  

Flattened,  deflated and utterly spent all under a heavy miasma of fog. 

‘Breathing, just work on breathing for a moment,’ He told himself and did just that. Eyes flickered open and closed as exhaustion threatened to pull him under again.   

A movement at the edge of his awareness forced him to focus and concentrate.

Long, legs where propped up and crossed at the ankles on the end of the bed.  Shoes shucked off,  socked toes twitching periodically.

Virgil’s gaze traveled along rumpled pants and a creased oxford to a crown of messy brown hair.  The slumped form of Scott, hunkered awkwardly in one of the standard plastic chairs synonymous for hospitals the world over was just off to one side of the single occupant room that he highly suspected was the ICU by the array of equipment that cluttered its confines. 

Concerned twitched at Virgil’s brow at seeing his brother so unkempt and unlike his usually put together self.  He posture looked haggard, worn in a way that his years shouldn’t though Virgil knew those years hadn’t been the kindest to any of them with respect to what life had thrown at them repeatedly. 

Scott too was sleeping, but his sleep was not the unhindered kind that Kayo was currently blessed with.   He could make out the twitches of movement in the low light of the room and the dark line of his brother’s brow low brows spoke of a mind whirling with unpleasant imagery.

He’d caused this. 

Scott always always wore his concerns for his siblings blatantly, the fine lines and greys where evidence of that and Virgil couldn’t help the pang of guilt for being the cause even if he couldn’t remember the how and why of it.

Not be able to bare his brother’s continued suffering,  Virgil summoned what little energy he had and forced his leaden body to do his bidding.  A shift of his foot and he nudged Scott’s.   

The blaze of discomforted that seared through him had him holding back a gasp and Kayo stirred, her fist tightening on the bed linens and pulling at his hospital johnny which in turn snagged on the packing that apparently padded his side    

Virgil cursed to himself for disturbing her, tensed and instantly regretting it as an ache intensified and spread like wildfire during dry season across his lower torso.

Ow… 

A memory flashed as vision greyed.  A burning building.  The red flash of his baby brothers baldric.  Black smoke and stifling heat.  

What the..?

He recalled a door.  A big, heavy mental door.  A glimpse of inside, snippets of long metal benches,  lab equipment, an odd wavering and then…nothing.

“Christ…” He hissed out softly and sank back into the bed, eyes clenched shut. His pressed his hand to his flank and drew a leg up in hopes of finding some relief from the burn of pissed off nerve endings that where currently screaming bloody murder at him.  

A warm weight on his upraised knee and  a soothing gliding through his hair had him squirting up thought bleary, watering eyes.  

He was met by deep blue, filled with worry staring down at him as comforting, familiar fingers combed over his skull and a thumb brushed his creased brow. 

“Hey, little brother. You in pain?”  

“I moved.”  God, his voice was like gravel

Scott smiled at that.  “Well that’s an improvement from drooling all over your pillow.”  He reached up, flicked something on the head board that Virgil didn’t have the energy to investigate. 

Kay shifted at his side again. A long elegant stretch followed by a jaw cracking yawn and she was sitting up, the lovely spring green hue of her gaze scanning over him with worry.  

“Hey,  beautiful.”

“Hey yourself.” She said and brushed a kiss over his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Virgil swallowed, his tongue felt like a block of lead in his mouth.  He fought a moment to clear his throat and was thankful when Scott brought a cup of water to his lips. 

A few sips and he eased back. “I’m okay,”  

It was an answer that had Kayo head shifting towards Scott looking for confirmation one that would most likely not be his favour

“That was Virgilese for I hurt too much but it takes too much effort to say otherwise so…’I’m okay.’ ”Scott translated.   

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that right?” Kay said, turning back to Virgil with an eye roll as she fussed with his sheets. 

Scott chuckled at the exchange knowing well the frustration of dealing with the engineer. “Kay, I paged the nurse but you think you could hurry them along a bit?" 

Kayo gave a nod, slipped from the bed.  “Sure thing,  I’ll be right back soon.”  Her hand lingered on Virgil’s arm a moment ““Maybe I’ll check in on Grandma too and leave the two of you to your own devices for a bit. She said she wanted to know when he was awake.” 

“Might as well,  Grandma has been driving the staff up the wall with questions. It’s best to distract her until after the nurse finishes up in here. 

Kayo go Virgil’s shoulder a  soft squeeze, a loving glare of exasperation and she was gone. 

Scott grinned, his head shaking as he settled a cheek on the edge of the bed.  “You got your hands full there, little brother.”

“Ugh.”  Was the only response Virgil could come up with, his lids starting to feel heavy so he let them close. 

“What the hell happened?” He winced as he tried to ease the burn that lingered by shifting position.

Scott wandered across the room,  pulled a pillow out from a small supply closet,  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Virgil furrowed his brow, tried to peel back the thick fog over his memories. The answer coming slowly and in spurts.  

“Chemical plant.”

Scott nodded as he came back over,  raised the sheet at the end of the bed. “Globalmax Chemicals.   Lift your legs.” The transition from information to command was seamless 

Virgil shook his head as he tried to comply but the effort of tightening of his abs to accomplish the task only added fuel to the banking fire in his gut. Scott frowned and stepped in to assist, sliding a hand under his calves and settling the pillow beneath his knees to ease the pull on his abdomen. 

“What else?”

“There was a fire,  Alan was with me…”  There was a question in his statement that Scott caught on to right away..

He looked up as he tugged the blankets back into place and reached up to adjust the bed angle. “He’s okay,  shaken up but in one piece. You saved his life though he might want to thump you for it. Something about him having body armor.” 

Virgil rubbed tiredly at his brow as the bed shifted beneath him, sighed as the pain eased off a bit. 

“Better?” 

He nodded.  “There was an undocumented fire room. Massive blast doors but it was near the storage vats… door wouldn’t open..but then it did..”

Scott’s eyes grew dark, something unpleasant flashing across them that Virgil would have missed had he not known his brother as well as he did. “Scott..?” 

Just then a redheaded nurse pranced into the room. 

8-8-8

Scott turned as the nurse flounced through the door.  

Oh great… Nurse Ratchet was back on duty…oh joy.  He rolled his eyes as she perked up at seeing him, thrust her double D’s out and checked her tightly bound hair as she made her way across the room to Virgil’s bedside.

Scott shuddered when her eyes racked up his body like he was a top sirloin steak waiting to be eaten. 

It was a good thing Kayo was still out of the room or the laser beam war would start again and Scott was pretty sure he was done refereeing that fun show. 

Kayo had nearly throttled the woman earlier and had Scott not seen all the signs and stepped between the two there would have been bloodshed…high point, at least they were in a hospital.  Scott was pretty sure though that modern medicine wasn’t  advanced enough to put back together the mess that Kayo was capable of making when she put her mind to it.  

Eyeing the nurse dubiously, Scott went over to the other side of the room out of the way of the top heavy, rather abrupt nurse and took up residence at his brother’s side. 

Nurse Ratchet did the standard check of vitals, pulse, blood pressure, temperature before moving to checking pupil dilation and jotted it all down on his chart.  

“How are you feeling today Mr Tracy?” She asked without looking up from the chart.

“Mr. Tracy is my father,”  Virgil replied giving his neck a roll

Scott reached up and helped adjust his pillow and his brother gave him a small smile in thanks, lids drooping. He was flagging and Scott hoped this was over with fast.   

“Any pain, My Tracy?”  The nurse obviously deciding his last comment was irrelevant.  

“A little.”  

Scott cleared his throat,  the nurse looked his way and he amended.   “You can take that as a ‘Yes’”.  

A raised brow at the clarification and she made a note on the chart.  “I see.”  

Putting the chart down she folded back the covers, “I need to check your wound, clean it and change the dressing, perhaps your brother could wait outside.”  

It wasn’t a question but Virgil shook his head.  “I don’t mind.”  

“Very well,” and like that she pulled up his hospital johnny to uncover his gauze covered side. 

Virgil squeaked at the suddenness of the exposure to his person and Scott being ever alert to his brother’s modesty adjusted the sheets enough to hide Virgil’s dignity.  

Scott’s temper flared.  “Really,  a little bedside manner would be nice.” 

The nurse just tutted.  “I’ve seen everything already, no point in hiding it now.”  

The comment only made Virgil turn a darker shade of red and Scott scowled but he withheld saying anything else for fear his temper would get the better of him.

The nurse had a brutal personality but she was highly skilled and from what Scott had seen very proficient at her job even if she was a bit too rough for his liking. Virgil deserved the best treatment and Nurse Ratchet or whatever she was called, was it. 

Biting his tongue he put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder and watched as the nurse from somewhere South of Hell  pulled back the edges of the gauze to inspected the jagged line of stitches underneath.

A soft curse came from Virgil as gloved hands probed the tender area and his eyes closed.  

“Ouch…”

Scott leaned a bit closer to inspect the damage himself and held back his own grimace at the angry red flesh. “Looks better than it did” He supplied. 

“Good to know”  Came a pained response through clenched teeth.   

The synth-skin mesh that had been grafted over the injury was doing its job of holding things together along with sutures but it wasn’t in the prettiest of stages. The team of Doctors had been forced to remove some necrotic flesh around the jagged slice as the infection had progressed to prevent further harm to his sibling’s already battered immune system.    

A few additional trips under the knife would be needed in the coming weeks to implant more grafting but it was a start. There would be a scar for sure and no amount of surgery would ever be able to fully erase it existence. The mark would serve as a constant reminder of what their chosen profession had nearly cost them all.

It wouldn’t be his brother’s first one and would most likely not be the last but Scott figured it would have a lasting effect on his family as a whole for some time to come. 

They’d all be marred in one way or another by what had occurred and like any scar it would take some time to dull but it would still be there.  A distant memory that all one had to do was look in the mirror to see and remember. 

A hiss from Virgil  dragged Scott out of his head and back to what was going on in the room.   

“I know it stings but try not to tense up too much,  the musculature beneath sustained some damage as well and clenching up is only going to exacerbate the discomfort despite the pain blocker and numbing salve.”  

“No…shit…”  

“Now Mr Tracy,  no need for such foul language.  I’m almost done.”

A grunted reply from Virgil and a short while later, the nurse was snapping off her gloves and tossing them in a biological waste bin. Her beady eyes turned to Scott.  “Visiting hours haven’t officially started yet but they don’t seem to apply to your family… I suggest you let him sleep and try not to agitate him too much. He’s immune response is still compromised with the infection and things can easily go from good to bad in his current state so he requires rest.”

The warning shot had been fired  and Scott had received the message loud and clear. “Gotcha” He said as the nurse flounced back out of the room.   

“…fuck me.. I’m already agitated.”  Virgil grumbled as the door swung closet.

Scott chuckled at that and helped Virgil settle again. “Well,  she is scary as hell and I am pretty sure that your girlfriend might take a hit out on her by the end of all this but Nurse Ratchet does know her stuff.” 

A pained snort, “Coming from the guy that didn’t just have to go through that… your words aren’t worth much.. And really? Ratchet?.” 

A smile split Scott’s face. God, he had missed this easy back and forth they shared. He shrugged,  “It seemed appropriate..”

Scott crossed mental fingers and hoped, prayed that he wouldn’t ever lose this camaraderie if all the dark things ever came to light.  

“You have no idea what her name is do you?” 

Scott faked a thoughtful look and gave up with a nonchalant shake of his head.  “Not a clue…” 

“No wonder she’s brutal…”  A yawn split his brother’s face. 

 “That is a possible cause, sorry about that.”  Scott rolled back on the heels of his feet, shoved his hands into his pockets as quiet descended in the room. 

Virgil’s eyes drifted closet. 

“I think Nurse Ratchet has a thing for you.” 

Scott gaped,  “You did not just go there..”

“I think I did.”  A smiled turned up Virgil’s lips though he didn’t bother opening his eyes.  

“Remind me why you’re my best friend again?” 

“Cause your only other options are the Terrible Two,” He didn’t elaborate further than that as if just mention Gordon and Alan was answer enough, “John on the other hand  is way too smart for you to have an intelligent conversation without leaving you in the dust with a brain hemorrhage…that and you can’t play chess worth beans..” 

“I can too play chess.”  

An eye cracked open and looked at him with skepticism.

“Oh shut up and go back to sleep”  Scott grumbled and crossed the room to slump into a chair.

“Stop sulking. You know I’m right.” The voice was teasing and very, very tired. 

“Shh..”

oOo

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[brainfoodgp]

The Seeds for Wellness Journal is written by Brain Food Garden Project’s Founder/Executive Director Sean Brennan

The Seeds for Wellness Journal is edited by Kira Labinger

“Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance” ~Samuel Johnson~

The world has completely changed as we knew it in just a matter of a few short weeks. The once crowded New York City streets are empty, conveying a post apocalyptic feel, as if they were transported into the Will Smith movie Legend, albeit, before Fifth Avenue became overrun with weeds and shrubbery, and zoo animals escaping, reclaimed an abandoned cityscape as their wilderness. The few people out walking in my neighborhood to go to the market, for example, are wearing surgical face masks. This is all extremely reminiscent of the movies we used to pay good money to see at the cinema to have the shit scared out of us, like Contagion. Now, it’s just an everyday reality that we get to witness free of charge.

Not that I have been doing much walking around lately, because 11 days have now passed since I started demonstrating mild symptoms of the COVID-19 virus. Trust me when I say even “mild” symptoms have been no walk in the park. Soar throat, check. Aching body to the point of feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus, check. Low grade fever, check. Tightness in my chest and mild difficulties breathing, check and check.

Speaking with my doctor and finding out from her just how crazy it is out there right now, made the reality of what I’ve been viewing in our Governors televised daily briefings even more real to me. They still don’t have anywhere near enough tests. So, when she told me to stay put, drink plenty of liquids and to keep her posted if my symptoms got worse, I almost felt relieved. I can’t imagine using up a test that could help someone that might really need it. All I can say is that the guilt would have been more overwhelming for me than the virus; trust me.

And yet, through all of this, signs that a majority of the human race is still overwhelmingly kind, generous, compassionate and hopeful, shines forth all around us. And, while our authoritarian, fascist President and Senate majority and collaborating Governors and some other state officials continue to demonstrate their utter cluelessness and ignorance, others have stood out and stood up for ensuring that every life counts, no matter your political party or socioeconomic status. And have stood up for their belief in science, our researchers, medical professionals and first responders. Americans have even embraced our newest heroes: the men and women that stock our grocery stores and the cashiers who check us out. Millions of people who make minimum wage, and who most people look straight through when going about their day checking off their to-do lists, are now wearing masks and risking their own health every day to continue to go to work for us.

Yes, the world has changed. And, while we have no clear idea how long we will have to continue to self-quarantine, self-isolate, and self-distance, the one thing I know and believe to be true during this pandemic is that the Mental Health Peer Advocacy work force will go down as heroes too. We are on the frontlines of this crisis every day, doing what we have always done: providing resources, listening without judgment and using our own lived experience to assist people in putting their fears and anxieties into context and create their own understanding and path to move forward when this is all over. During this great world tragedy arises our moment to shine, like a bright search light cutting through the darkness and bringing hope. When this is all over, no one will ever again be able to doubt the power of our movement, the importance of peer support and the deep and endless well of empathy we supply to our communities all around the world. What I now know for sure is that no one will ever have the right to question our relevance and our place of importance within the psychiatric medical establishment again.

Below you will find the number for the New York State COVID-19 Helpline.

BFGP Feature:

During Difficult Times Finding A Silver Lining Makes The World Seem Less Dark

Living with manic depression is, at the best of times, like riding on a non-stop roller coaster. And, at its worst, like living through a perpetual highway collision. Yet hundreds of thousands of people like myself, all around the world, do live with it and do find paths to manage their symptoms everyday. As a matter of fact, I have written about many of the tools I use personally in quite a few of these Seeds for Wellness Journals.

Whenever my anxiety spikes, so too does the potential for me to tailspin into a depression. One of the wellness tools I’ve come to rely on is looking for a silver lining in whatever is happening in my life, especially those things my mind perceives to be bad or horrific. Applying my “silver lining” rule curtails the perceived threats before they have the chance to pull me down the rabbit hole.

When I started seeing more and more people wearing masks on the train as I traveled each day to meetings for BFGP or to the Baltic Street Community Resource and Wellness Center, I honestly didn’t think much of it. After all, I had lived with suicidal ideation, many suicide attempts, and two long stays in psychiatric hospitals. It wasn’t until more and more of my scheduled work meetings were cancelled and then the call came for me to close the Center until further notice and send all of the participants home, that I started to think, “Oh, this might actually be serious”. However, even then, I thought the world might be held up for a week, two at the most!

After a week in, I knew that I was about to be living in a much different world. My calendar—my lifeline to keeping my incredibly busy life organized—started to look like a blackened, crossed-out mess. It resembled the few attempts I’ve made at filling out the New York Times crossword puzzle in pen! More meetings were cancelled, then Board meetings, then conferences I was scheduled to speak, workshops I was scheduled to facilitate. I found myself staring at an empty calendar, that used to be filled with my well-planned life, and I began to sweat.

When it sunk in that the pilot volunteer garden program, Connect-Garden-Grow, that Brain Food Garden Project was planning to role out in the spring for mental health peers, was not going to come to fruition this spring, with no end in sight for “social distancing”, that nasty, gnarled footed rabbit with talon-like claws for nails and bloodshot red eyes began to stick its head menacingly out of its hole, beckoning me towards it. And I felt myself inching closer and closer.

And then I stopped, I took a deep breath, and asked myself: “What is the silver lining in all of this for me?”, There has to be one, I thought. While taking a long, hot bath, I found it...TIME!!

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said: “I am behind on this project” or said to a friend: “Oh, I can’t meet you for drinks because I’m booked that evening for a committee meeting.”, I’d be a very well-off man. Add a dollar for every time I’ve heard a friend or work colleague say those same types of things to me. And I’d be able to retire now, move to Ireland and buy one of those quaint thatched roofed cottages by the ocean that I love looking at on Facebook!

TIME—we are all always complaining about not having enough of it. Maybe it’s to read that book you’ve been dying to read, or to cook a meal for your family, or to paint that masterpiece. And now, we have nothing but time. So, alright, I can’t meet a friend out for a drink right now. But, before I got sick, I had martinis over the phone with a friend I hadn’t seen in months. And we laughed and gossiped and had the best damned time. Another friend of mine and I, in a similar scenario, talked on the phone for over an hour. I hadn’t been able to dedicate that kind of time to our friendship since I took her out for her birthday in February!

As many of you know, because you’ve commented on it. I haven’t written a Seeds for Wellness Journal since Mental Health Awareness Month last May. I’ve also fallen behind on writing the BFGP cookbook, 33 Delicious Recipes for the Brain. Why? Because other work-related priorities got in the way and I had to employ a process of elimination. New things filled the top of the priorities list while others fell to the bottom and stayed there. And now, I’m catching up on that important work that I enjoyed doing just as well.

I’ve decided that I want to make the most out of this time I’ve been given right now. Because when the pandemic is over, and it will be over, I don’t want to look back on this moment, as the racing speedway we call life zooms back at full throttle, and feel like I squandered it. I refuse to feel like I’ve missed a golden opportunity. Call it being more mindful. Call it making the best out of a terrible situation happening to everyone right now. Or call it my silver lining—an opportunity to turn the sickness, isolation and death into something that makes me feel whole and that provides some sort of meaning to this strange time.

What silver lining have you found during the self- distancing and mandated isolation we are all living through with the COVID-19 outbreak?

Baltic Street Community Resource and Wellness Center: Creating A Virtual Eye In This COVID-19 Storm

As many of you know, that follow any of Brain Food Garden Project’s social media platforms, some time ago, I partnered with Baltic Street’s Community Resource and Wellness Center. Baltic Street AEH, inc. was the first of its kind—an agency, created and managed by peers, to serve peers. It was a shining beacon in the sense that mental health survivors were at the helm of steering the ship of their own recovery and destiny. Today, Baltic Street remains the largest, most respected peer-operated program in the country. Brain Food Garden Project aspires to be a peer run and operated program—for peers, by peers— as well. So, when Baltic Street AEH, Inc.’s CEO, Isaac Brown, and the Center’s Director, Sara Goodwin, and Manager, Laurie Vite, wanted to expand the Center’s nutritional programming and to create an indoor garden space, BFGP and I seemed a natural fit. I had already created a garden space for a housing program in Queens, NY. And I facilitate Feeding Our Mental Health workshops for schools and mental health programs and organizations as part of our programming.

I began to work out of the Center three days a week and, after several months, was invited to be the Center’s Senior Peer Resource Specialist. Having already fallen completely in love with the participants and the resources the Center provides for our community, I felt it was not only an honor but a joy to work side-by-side with Laurie to continue to expand my duties. It didn’t hurt that I would work only three days a week which would allow me to continue working with BFGP’s partners to build our first mental health peer rooftop garden, as well as working on other important programs and projects.

It has been an extraordinary experience! And just when we were starting to plant our indoor greenhouse for spring ( as well as having recently added a hydroponic tent) and preparing to celebrate the Center’s 10 year anniversary of serving NYC’s mental health community. The Coronavirus outbreak closed the Center, like many other organizations and businesses, until further notice.

One of the things I love most about the Center is that, at its core and heart and soul, it operates with a Peer Resource Team who work everyday in this incredibly creative space that inspires us to be at our best, “Always in SERVICE to our community.”

At the time of the “shelter in place” order, our Director, Sara had already been out on medical leave for several weeks, recovering from an arm injury. And Laurie, the Center’s Manager, would be returning from a three month family leave taking care of her 93 year old father. Her official first week back would be our second week working from home in quarantine. In several conference call meetings with Laurie, during that first week as she still took care of her father, I kept coming back to this theme in our conversations: “How can the Center still be of service to our community with our doors closed?”

First, I pitched a “warm line” where the Center’s Peer Resource Specialists could be available for anyone that needed to talk. Isolation, for many of us, can be activating. It can bring on depression and create a cycle of reliving past trauma. As I mentioned earlier, I was quarantined in my apartment for less than a week when I started heading toward falling down the rabbit hole, myself. Having been the first team member from the Center to receive my new work phone, I myself, tested out the idea for the warm line that Thursday and Friday. I realized that our Facebook page would need to become even more of a tool for providing our community resources, so I posted my work number on the Facebook page. I was super excited to hear the voices of several of the Center’s participants that first day that I tested out the idea!

Second, the Center thrives on the groups, clubs, workshops and field trips that we offer to our community. I decided to put together and pitch phone-in workshops and groups that would take place 4 days a week in the afternoons lead by our Peer Resource Team. Now, going on week three, we have expanded to two workshops a day, with both morning and afternoon sessions, starting on Monday April 6, 2020. The morning sessions, are from 11am to 12pm and our afternoon sessions continue to run from 3pm to 4pm.

Laurie loved the ideas, and after getting fast approval from Baltic Street’s Director of Operations and with the assistance of Baltic Streets incredible technical support engineer, we held our first teleconference group the Monday of the second week of the quarantine. The Center found a way to continue to be of service to our community— to literally became the “virtual” eye in the storm of the Coronavirus.

To join the Baltic Street Community Resource and Wellness Center’s Facebook page click here if you would like to donate to Baltic Street AEH, Inc. click here

The Feeding Our Mental Health Workshops are held every Tuesday from 3-4pm Call-in information is provided every Monday on the Brain Food Garden Project social media platforms as well as the morning of the scheduled groups on the Baltic Street Community Resource and Wellness Center Facebook page. And to receive a flyer of the full list of weekly group offerings by email: sbrennan@balticstreet.org

The Baltic Street Community Resource and Wellness Center Warm Line operates five days a week Monday-Friday from 10am-3pm

Warm Line Mon-Fri. From 10am-3pm

Mon. Call Peer Resource Specialist Robert Santiago at extension 917-653-5390

Tue. Call Peer Resource Specialist Christina Correa at extension 917-653-5632

Wed. Call Peer Resource Specialist Paul Wachtel at extension 917-686-9385

Thurs. Call Peer Resource Specialist Sean Brennan at extension 917-982-9747

Fri. Call Peer Resource Specialist Caitlin Haughney at extension 917-653-0408

Notes From the Resistance:

The Coronavirus pandemic has been a reminder to most Americans that our countries little experiment with Authoritarian Fascism has been an utter disaster and failure—destroying countless human lives in its wake. The resistance has been the only thing standing between even more human suffering. And with COVID-19 and the horrifying response of 45 and his collaborators, the resistance continues to be a necessary source to protect the people suffering at this time.

1 in 7 people living in the United States live with not knowing where their next meal is going to come from. Food insecurity is unfortunately a challenge that we have sadly, not been able to overcome. During the pandemic this national crisis will only expand getting worse for millions of Americans. If you have more than you need at this time. You may want to consider donating to God’s Love We Deliver by clicking here. Or another excellent organization doing incredible work is Chef José Andrés World Central Kitchen you can donate by clicking here.

Baltic Street Community Resource and Wellness Center in association with Brain Food Garden Project has created a NYC guide, Resources for Avoiding Food Insecurity During the COVID-19 Crisis. To receive a copy of this resource tool email: sbrennan@balticstreet.org

It is so very important that during this unprecedented crisis we assist our neighbors, friends , and families to avoid unnecessarily experiencing food insecurity during this crisis. The resistance is the perfect organizational tool to move this vital work forward.

Delicious Recipes For the Brain:

I love this simple crockpot recipe! I make it all winter long. I happened to make a big batch right before I got sick and it restored my soul!! First, you can roast your own chicken for this recipe. However, it isn’t a prerequisite. I make a delicious roast chicken, which recipe I’ve posted in a back issue of the Seeds for Wellness Journal click here. However, this time I bought a pre-cooked roaster from the deli section of my local grocery store. This recipe can also be made completely vegetarian by subbing out organic, sodium free vegetable stock and replacing the chicken by adding a package of Shiitake and a package of Cremini mushrooms to the Button mushrooms.

Ingredients: (Cooking time 8 hours)

(1) Whole Roast Chicken

(1) Package large button mushrooms (or a selection of your favorite mushrooms)

(1) Package of Cellery

(2) Lemmons

(3) Red Bell Peppers

(6) Peeled Whole Garlic Cloves

(2) Packages of Zucchini “noodles” (if you have the proper tool and want to shred your own you will need 3 large whole zucchini’s)

(3) Medium red onions ( if you love the flavor of onions but not their texture you could sub out 3 tablespoons of onion powder)

(2) Large containers of sodium free chicken stock (I prefer organic but that is my preference)

(2) Cups of water

(5) Tablespoons of Cayenne pepper

Crushed sea salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

(1)Prepare your vegetables by chopping them to your liking.

(2) Pour both cartons of your chicken stock into the crockpot

(3) Add the two cups of water to the stockpot

(4) Crush and add the garlic cloves, salt and pepper, and cayenne pepper to the stock.

(5) Add your chopped vegetables and two packages of zucchini noodles to the stock.

(6) Add the roasted chicken to the center of the crockpot

Place lid on crockpot and set timer for 8 hrs. After the first 4 hours remove chicken carefully and place on a cutting board let the chicken “rest” for 30 minutes allowing your soup stock and vegetables to continue cooking.

Remove the chicken meat and skin from the carcass adding the chicken meat back into the soup. Allow to continue cooking for the remaing pre-set crockpot time.

Squeeze the juice of your two lemons into finished soup, serve and enjoy!

[spliinkles]

Overzealous

Kind of a continuation from yesterdays fic?

Context- I'm using the headcannon that Wild can be possessed by the other Champion's when he's either under too much stress or unconscious. Another headcannon I made with someone on the discord to add to this is that when activating the Champion's power, not only is the power enhanced, but also a projection of the user of the power can be seen over Wild's body (as you'll see below ;)) aGAIN ANOTHER SELF INDULGENT FIC WOOHOO

Au belongs to Jojo | linkeduniverse

_________________________________________________________

"What did you do?!" Legend seethed at Warriors who in return coughed, looking away with a look of guilt. He stared ahead, ignoring the pointed glare that was facing him until Legend repeated the question, punching Warrior's arm as if to keep his attention.

Warriors looked down with a grimace, "I don't know, ok? I was practicing with my bow with Wild and I asked him for pointers- long story short, that bird-thing- Rito I think? Whoever is possessing him has kept up his speech for the last six minutes and he doesn't look to be stopping." Legend cursed at the words, "Of course it was you who did it." Warriors scoffed, offended, yet Legend turned, watching the scene unfold.

Before them stood Wild, or, what appears to be Wild with a lack of his, per say, spirit, where the embodiment of 'annoying' now possessed.

From what the others knew, the spirits name was Revali- the apparent official 'greatest archer of all of Hyrule' and everyone's collective unofficial 'pain in the head'. He was, in the least, a proud, flamboyant and 'sophisticated' individual with a love for archery- and a seemingly obvious dislike for Wild.

The two watched the Hylian, who stood straight and proud, something so unlike Wild.

"And honestly, if I knew you Hylian's were open to critique as you oh so generously asked, I would've showed up much sooner, trust me."

That's right, Legend thought, This is the first time this spirit has shown up. Legend mulled over that thought for a second, before narrowing his eyes. He decided that he didn't like this character inhabiting Wild.

Besides Legend, both Twilight and Time -all three in which had just arrived back from gathering items for that night's dinner- stood several metres from the overzealous Hylian, indescribable expression plastered on their faces.

Everyone except Revali was still.

Revali was quick to notice, rolling Wild's eyes with a disgusted groan, "Please, you all know about us, it was only a matter of time before my presence graced you." He took a second to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild's belt, albeit a little sloppily as he cursed out at Hylian's anatomy.

Everyone watched as he swiped through it.

Twilight stepped forward frowning, "Hey, what-" he didn't get any further however as the knights bow in wild's hand disintegrated in a fine, glowing blue light before being replaced by a bow much more intricately crafted- Wild's mouth tilted into one of satisfaction, and a handful of those watching couldn't help but to think how un-natural the look was on him.

Revali re-latched the slate, using both hands to hold the well-made bow. He took a couple moments to fiddle with it, checking over finer details of the weapon. By now, Four and Wind had taken this opportunity to approach Wild, unnoticed by the spirit inhabiting the Hylian. They peered over his shoulder, marvelling at the bow, "Do you like this bow a lot?" A sound only descried a squawk left Wild's throat, the spirit jumping slightly as he whipped around, bow nearly smashing into Wind's face had it not been for Time's quick reflexes to drag the boy back. Revali glared at the boy, "Insufferable as Link and twice as small- just my luck." he stated, bringing the bow closer to him, "And this? Of course I like this bow, I was the one to wield it before Link- better yet," he smirked, "I was the one to create it."

Silence.

"Oh, ok." Wind shrugged.

Revali blinked.

"'Oh, ok?' That's it?" several people peered at each other before Four spoke up, "Well, I mean it isn't that special, I smithed most of my weapons myself." several others piped up, confirming this. Revali stilled, owlishly blinked once more, "No." he then stated.

Time could immediately feel a sense of dread travel down his back- he paused, watching Revali's movements, however small they are before tightening his mouth, "It isn't that big of a deal-" "OH please, save your breath." Wild's eyes rolled once more, "to smith a sword is nothing but child's play, now, a bow? This is where skill takes place." Four narrowed his eyes, letting out a scoff of offense, "Are you saying my skills are nothing but rubbish?" Wild eyes glanced at Four, shrugging, "Not saying they're anything spectacular." Four threw his arms up, "Nope! Not doing this today guys." he marched away, Wind quickly following.

"Hm, for a supposed hero he sure has a quick temper." Revali stated, ignoring the pointed glares meeting his figure, "anyway," he turned to Warriors, the man letting an 'oh god' whisper out, much to Legend's amusement, "you wish to learn proper techniques, yes?" Warriors shook his head, "No, I think I-" "Perfect! I'm glad you agree, I've been watching you all through Link and quite frankly, there's much room for improvement for…" Revali paused, glancing around at the others before humming, "well, let's say practice would make for much better improvements, you see?" "Twenty rupees and I'll punch him." Legend whispered. Immediately, Warriors choked on his breath, a hand landing on Legend's shoulders as he tried to contain his laughter. Legend glanced at Warriors, before looking back at the Hylian, "You're right, I'll do it for free." before attempting his attack however, Time stepped forward, "Look… wait what's your name?" Revali repeated his title, just as proud as the first time, "Revali, as much as we would… appreciate the help, we would rather Wild if anything, considering…" Revali sneered, "Considering I'm dead?"

Words died out of Time's throat as everything fell silent.

"Oh god no," Legend then started snapping everyone's attention to him, "Look, if your annoying personality can stick after a century, I'm sure your skills with archery are still there- just because you're dead, it won't change anything. Time's only saying this because we're more comfortable around Wild." Wild's face sneered at Legend, yet he kept quiet, mulling over the words. He then narrowed his eyes, "But I am him- just with more poise." he gestured to his posture with a smile, waving Legend's look of disbelief off, "none of that, I came to teach and teach I shall! Where are your arrows?!" he started to scour the area as others denied, "We don't have that many left!" "Then this will be worth the loss of some extra rupees." Revali merely replied with, finding his targeted ammunition within one of Wild's pouches. He heaved the pouch over his shoulders with ease.

"This is a waste of arrows- we might need those!" Twilight stated, walking to Wild with a stern glare, "look, bird brains, I'm usually all for some fun, but not with supplies that are already low." Revali rolled his eyes, "don't worry, Link's thinking of taking you to his house," confused looks met his, "What, he hasn't told you? Ugh, of course not, the imbecilic. Don't worry, your supplies will be filled soon enough." He nocked an arrow, testing the string before drawing the arrow out. "Hold up, wait, this is going way too fast-" "Good." "No, not good! Wait what are you-"

A gust so powerful it ripped through the entire camp- bed rolls went flying, as well as personal belongings and the newly acquired food. Yet all eyes were on Wild.

Or on Revali, more specifically.

Wild's body had lit up in a spectacular green, yet his body wasn't the main focus, no, the main focus was solely on the green outline of a Rito that engulfed around Wild, as if he was a projection. Green flames littered around them, dancing in the wind that had everyone holding their ground to stop from being blown away themselves.

The view was ineffable.

Even Revali was surprised, looking down at his feathers that moved alongside Wild's arms. The bow itself now lodged between Revali's outline, rather than the Hylian's hands. A twist in his gut, a jolt of realisation- whatever had happened let him interact with his bow- let him feel the object once more, just has he once had. Revali blinked, eyes adjusting upwards, into the oblivion that was the sky.

He had a plan.

The wind died down barely, enough for Revali's voice to be picked up, "Prepare to see a show of a life time!" Then, he shot upwards, into the heavens.

Hearts jumped into their throats watching the projection of Revali from Wild's body soar above them, the wind tormenting the plains around them once more as a gust even stronger than last time shot through them- Wind and Four, although several feet further away, both fell.

The elegance of the way Revali moved in the air almost had everyone in awe, yet Twilight was the first to notice it.

"Wild doesn’t have his paraglider on him!" eyes wide, mouth agape, they watched Revali twist and turn, flying himself higher and higher- until the inevitable fall. Twilight felt his stomach drop, "Oh god no." And then they fell.

Down and down, they fell further; then even faster. The momentum dragging their very beings towards the ever-growing ground. Mere seconds seemed to drag onto minutes for those watching, tormenting them- in the blink of an eye, Revali raised his wings, praying to Hylia- to anyone who'd listen that this would work.

Then, Revali flew.

He felt the wind through his wings, the updraft curving his decent until he himself soared high.

The others on the ground collectively sighed in relief.

Deep within Revali's mind, he could feel the excitement pouring from Wild- Revali laughed, twisting and turning in the sky, feeling as alive as a dead spirit could be, "I have MISSED this!" he exclaimed, diving once more. Then, he saw it- the targets.

And judging by the fire burning from within, he knew Wild did too.

Revali smirked

He had a performance to do.

He dove once more, yet with no intent to stop. His wings tucked in, body lowering as far as it could until the momentum built up enough for him to feel the frigid cold air wisp by like a dream.

"…Ti… e it… " Revali paused for a second, yet still descending, "time it!" Wild yelled again, clearer; the excitement gushing out of him and Revali did so, whipping out his bow and watched wide eyed as a power so strong and so pure engulfed him.

Everything stilled.

No, he thought, watching his descension drift further down ever so slowly, not frozen, yet-

From within, he felt Wild laugh.

"Oh."

He could've laughed, yet instead he aimed his bow, all five arrows nocked.

He shot.

"So this is how you managed to nearly best me, you twerp!"

To the others, they watched in awe as Revali, in a mere second shot the targets, all five, with no effort, hitting each one simultaneously without missing a beat; all bulls-eyes.

Seconds later Revali landed, the outline dissipating quick enough.

Twilight, Sky and Warriors swarmed Wild, who now blinked owlishly- Wild was back. "Hey- are you ok?" Twilight asked, putting a hand on his shoulders. Wild blinked back, before a large smile grew on his face, a small bubbly laugh leaving him. "Holy shit, he's lost it." Legend exclaimed. Sky looked between the two in confusion.

Abruptly, Wild stopped laughing, the smile falling.

Everyone watched him.

His face, once a healthy tone turned pale- Twilight knew exactly what was about to happen. "To the bush!" He shouted, pushing Wild as the Hylian heaved. Quick enough, just as they reached the bush, Wild vomited.

Warriors made a disgusted sound, yet Legend merely elbowed him.

Time's eyes met Twilight's and the elder only rubbed his temples before leaving to go pick up everything that had flew away, passing Hyrule as he helped Four and Wind up from the ground.

Twilight himself just rubbing Wild's back, wondering how he's still alive with Wild's antics.

[rent-day-blues]

I don't know if you're still doing prompts, but if are... Injured John? Maybe he gets clipped by a car or something on his way to a shift and has to call it in and his brother(s) arrive to help him? Thanks!

now! I know you haven’t asked for a rewrite of S1E08 in the RDB verse, but i’m afraid that’s precisely what you’re getting.

“

“My brother knows how to jump out a window. From at least a couple storeys up, or so he says, anyway. I remember telling you that story. I’ve never seen him do it, I’ve only heard about it afterward. Apparently he didn’t do it right; sprained his ankle. Gordon gave him hell.”

John informs the cat at the far end of the branch of this fact, nonchalant, as though the pair of them aren’t about fourteen feet in the air, which is further than John would like to jump, even if he had the first idea of how to stick the landing. Falling is the easy part.

The dispatch office backs up onto the river that cuts through town, though not one of the nicer parts of the river. There’s still a little scrubby bit of embankment behind the complex, a few haphazard picnic tables on the top of the bank, and a handful of trees trailing down the slope, doing their best and failing, as evidenced by their scraggling grey limbs—which hadn’t looked that hard to climb. And hadn’t been, to be fair. As he and Eos have mutually discovered, it’s not the climbing that’s the tricky part. It’s all getting rather philosophical up here.

“When people call me about cats up trees, I send the fire department to prevent them from going up any trees after any cats. That’s a secret about my job. It’s easier to get cats out of trees than people. You know, if you have a fire truck. Or even just a ladder. Or have climbed a tree more recently than like fifteen years ago and can still remember how to get down.” John pauses, rueful, and then adds, “I always wondered what sort of moron goes up a tree after a cat. That’s the other secret—about 90% of the time, you get your own damn selves back down.”

Of course, the most sensible thing to do, even if one has already blown the chance to do what was formerly the most sensible thing to do, and climbed a tree in pursuit of a cat, would be to call the appropriate authorities in order to safely get back down. And even if he’ll never hear the end of it from whatever coworker he calls or whichever branch of the emergency service is summoned to his rescue, John still absolutely would call 911—if his phone hadn’t fallen out of his pocket in the process of climbing the stupid tree, in pursuit of the stupid cat.

The screen’s cracked (that’s not new) and turned off, and staring forlornly up at him from where it’s nestled amidst the gnarly roots of the stubborn old tree. Even if he can’t tell the time for sure, he knows it’s past the beginning of his shift. He hopes they start to wonder where he is, and sooner rather than later, though they’ll probably call before they come looking. And even if they came looking, no one’s likely to look around the back of the building. He’s been up here for nearly fifteen minutes by this point. His had been the earliest shift, and so it’s right around dawn. By the lightness creeping into the sky, he can tell that morning’s nearer than he’d prefer, and sighs to himself.

“I’m late for work now. When I don’t check in, they’ll know something’s wrong,” he informs Eos, because of course it’s Eos. There are plenty of alley cats around the office, but the stupid black shorthair with the white smudges on her face and paws is the only one he’d climb a stupid tree for. She’s the only one around to hear it when he laments, “I only stopped to feed you. I only meant to look for a couple minutes when I couldn’t find you. I didn’t think you’d have gone up a tree of all places. What’s with that? You’re an alley cat. This is not your area. I’m very disappointed.”

Usually he sees her on his way into the communications center. Today he hadn’t, and that wouldn’t normally have been that far out of the normal. Normally John would’ve let her be and looked for her on his lunchbreak, but he’d had a can of tuna in his bag that he’d wanted to put on offer, especially since he’d had a few days off, and thus it had been a few days since he’d seen her last. He’s watched her grow from tiny kitten to smallish cat, and despite his equal measure of certainty that she can take care of herself, since he’s at least partly responsible for her continued existence, he feels it’s his duty to look out for her. As much as he can, at least.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of this,” he tells her aloud, conversationally. She hasn’t even done him the credit of coming any closer from where she perches towards the skinnier end of the branch he’s perched upon, trying to coax her closer. He’d been about to climb back down, about to head inside and call someone better suited to de-treeing a cat—when he’d discovered that, no, actually, that wasn’t quite possible. Actually it’s quite a lot further down than it had looked from the ground, and with the way the embankment falls away and drops steeply towards the river, failing to keep his feet after even a good(unlikely) landing, would probably send him tumbling down the riverbank.

But he can’t just stay up a tree all day. He’s running out of options and is uncomfortably aware of the fact.

“You wouldn’t get spooked and fall if I started yelling, right?” he asks, though it’s been lurking in his mind as possibility, and it’s the reason he hasn’t, yet. “You’re tough. You’re a mean old—well, okay, young—and I mean, not even that mean actually—but you’re an alley cat, anyway. You’re tough. You wouldn’t get startled and fall out of the tree if I yelled for help. And even if you did, probably you’d land on your feet anyway. With better odds than me. I’ve read the statistics for accidental high falls. I’ll be honest, I don’t like my chances.”

As though seeking her permission, John reaches slowly, cautiously towards her, and is rewarded with a flattening of her ears and a bristling of her tail, and the sort of warning, moaning growl that immediately precedes a hiss of pure loathing. When he pauses for a moment, and then doesn’t give up on reaching for her, she goes so far as to take a swipe at him, though the movement destabilizes her already precarious perch, such that she clings with every available claw to the bark of the tree, and his reflexive retreat makes the branch tremor slightly, enough that he freezes and tightens his grip around the trunk. He feels the spike of his heartrate as his pulse pounds in his ears, and the scare is enough to change his mind about the risk of shouting.

“Wow! You’re kind of a brat. And if I didn’t like you so much, I’d—”

In the aftermath, he’ll never be sure if the sharp crack that lingers in his memory belonged to the branch, breaking; or the back of his skull, hitting the ground. The whole incident is a muddle of disconnected sensations that he’ll only recall piecemeal, and won’t be able to connect together. The swoop of vertigo as he’d lost his balance and toppled backward, too startled even to shout about his shock at falling. The way his knee had caught for a moment where it had been hooked around the branch, arresting his fall for only a fragment of a second, before gravity won the way it was always going to. The blur of black and a pair of green eyes staring down at him, from even higher up the tree than he’d found himself. And trying to push himself up from the ground. And then then sudden sharp shock of agony from some badly broken something being enough to plunge the sky above him into inky blackness.

John’s luckier than Virgil was, when Virgil had jumped out of a window, because he gets Scott, not Gordon. Although all Gordon had offered was his usual blistering sarcasm, and coming groggily back to consciousness to find Scott looking grim and mildly terrified, kneeling at his side makes John wonder if maybe Virgil got off easy The fear lurking in his big brother’s expression might be worse than anything Gordon could’ve said.

“Don’t move,” Scott orders immediately, with the sort of authority that must make criminals quake in their ill-gotten boots, and the hand he’s got braced against John’s shoulder is enough to prevent any attempt, though John doesn’t even begin to make one. “Ambulance is on the way.”

John blinks up at him, confused and still in pursuit of context for what he’s doing, staring “…Am I under arrest?” he asks, dazed and dizzy and damned if he can remember what the hell’s just happened.

“If I could figure out how to arrest you for being a stupid fucking idiot, you absolutely fucking would be. What the hell were you doing up a goddamn tree?”

Scott’s mad, which is a good sign. John still doesn’t move, but he has to think for a minute to answer the question, which makes his head ache horribly. Almost worse than the rest of them. “Cat,” he supplies eventually, and hopes this is helpful, because it’s the only detail his brain offers. Scott’s a cop. Could probably make detective if he wanted. John’s pretty sure he can figure it out.

“Cat? What…why—you’re not a cat!” Scott’s outrage at this explanation, admittedly rather light on the details, seems to run contrary to John’s assumption that his brother could make detective, if he just put the effort in. John blinks at him, bemused that he’s gotten it so wrong.

“…does one of us have a concussion?”

Scott just glares. “One of us absolutely has a fucking concussion.”

“…me?” If he doesn’t try to think too hard, his head doesn’t actually seem so bad. John’s back hurts, and he winces slightly, not moving, but wondering aloud, “…I think I’m lying on my phone.”

If John were working this call, he would be reassured by the fact that the victim was conversant, and alert enough to notice details like that. Scott just seems exasperated. “If you’re lying on your phone, it’s because you landed on your phone, which you emphatically haven’t used to call anybody about this.”

“…did somebody call about me?”

Scott’s glare becomes a glower. “Well, we didn’t get a call about a stupid idiot lying unconcious at the foot of a tree, we got a call—from your office—about a cat screaming behind the building like it was being skinned alive. Non-emergency, even! Dispatch only threw it my way because I was in the area and I owe Animal Control a favour. I said we’d make sure it wasn’t a false alarm.”

“I hate false alarms,” John agrees, and closes his eyes. Just for a moment. The sky’s getting properly bright overhead, and the dawn for which he’d named a friend starts to spread properly across the sky. It makes his head hurt, even if it reminds him of her. And despite everything, somehow he isn’t mad. “I like cats, though.”

Scott’s only mad because he’s frightened. John probably hasn’t helped, but somehow his last statement seems to be enough to get his brother to crack a grin, weary and worried though it is. “Well. Hope this one was worth it.”

“Yeah.” John smiles to himself and closes his eyes again, as he hears the distant sound of an approaching siren. Usually he hears it from the other end of a phoneline. He wonders if it’s scared Eos. Then he wonders if she’s nearby, watching, and feels certain that probably she is, actually. After all—

“She’s my friend.”