#probably more protein than i needed all things told

[bitegore]

you know what, actually this is worth a brag. I managed to eat for five days on a road trip for (calculated) ~$15 US total.

[violetsiren90]

The Light of Your Eyes

Pairing: best friend's younger brother!Changbin x f!Reader

Genre: one-shot; friends to lovers; smut and fluff; hurt/comfort

Summary: Can the gentle touch of an unexpected pair of hands on your body heal the wounds of your soul?

Sequel: Arms Around Me

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni), age gap romance (consenting adults); mentions of break-up and unhealthy past relationship dynamics; depression and anxiety symptoms (mild); MC has self esteem struggles, some are body-image related; the ex was low-key emotionally abusive tbh 😒; depictions of alcohol consumption (no drunkenness); depictions of food and eating (MC has a moment of negative thought patterns in regards to food consumption); gaming/watching movies; emotional breakdowns; kissing (so much kissing, guys); Fluffy fluffy FLUFF 💕; making out; interrupted shenanigans; cuddling; shirtless Binnie 👀; strong and gentle Binnie 🥺💘 ; working through FEELINGS 😅 ; breast play; nudity; oral sex (f. receiving); feedbag position; confessions and new beginnings.

Word Count: ~9300

Author's Note: Well, here it is - my first Binnie fic! I wanted to make it as sweet and sexy as he is...which, I know, is impossible, so I gave it my best shot! Hopefully, it's something worthy of his face-claim. I'm not going to make any judgements as to whether I feel it fits the bill, but rather like the man himself, tell you to be the judge of your own opinions! Jutdae!! 😂💗 But in all seriousness, if you decide to read this story, thank you! I hope it brings you something warm and fuzzy!

*The poem at the beginning is an original, and is what inspired this story!

Acknowledgements: I cannot thank @moni-logues enough for beta reading this for me, and for all her hype and humor and general human decency - this story wouldn't be what it is without her! 💖

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

    

the

Bright color of my laughter and the

Melody of the curve of my hips and the

Soft velvet of my irises

     seemed

To have taken their first breath,

Opening gently - like flowers perfuming my soul

- When bathed in the light of your eyes.

"Changbin? What are you doing here?"

     "I could ask you the same question," he says with a little smirk, whipping a dish towel over his shoulder as he shuffles back to let you in.

     Fair enough, you suppose. You are showing up without notice. Not that you ever need to give his sister any notice - as your best friend, there's a key with all the others in your purse that unlocks the door you're closing behind you. You wouldn't have even knocked had his car not been parked in the driveway.

     "Where's Nari?" you ask, glancing at the gaming console hooked up to the massive flat-screen, and a bullet blender cup half filled with something thick, pale and probably protein-packed sitting on the coffee table.

     "She went out of town for the weekend," he calls, heading back toward the dining area. "Last minute work thing." 

     Damn. 

     Your apartment is boring and barren and lonely. You wanted to hang out. You've been coming around more than usual – almost as often as when you were in grad school together. But Nari had her own life, you understood. You had your own life too.

     And then three months ago, on New Years Eve, your long-term boyfriend called it quits. It wasn't as if you were heartbroken. Not really. The relationship had been sick and slowly dying. But returning to a life lived in solitude was proving a difficult adjustment – especially navigating the new and constant stillness which left you the mental space and dexterity to run up against the shadows of wounds unhealed. And you didn't feel like growing into your EQ. You felt like distracting yourself. So you ended up at your bestie's place more often than not, these days.

     You sigh, trailing toward the kitchen. You won't stay long - if her younger brother is house sitting, he'll probably have people coming over. It's Friday night, after all, and he's twenty-four years young.

    The sound of running water, and music from a little speaker playing a catchy beat laced with fast-paced rap draws you into the warmly-lit, open kitchen. You recognize the voice on the track.

     "This new?" you ask, dropping your bag on a barstool and rounding the island to where Changbin is up to his elbows in suds at the sink. He's in a black band tee and bright blue joggers, his curly dark hair unstyled.

    He looks over his shoulder and nods.

    "What do you think? Wait, no, lemme start it over..."

     You smile to yourself as he hastily dries his hands and whips out his phone, pulling the track back to the beginning. He braces himself against the edge of the sink, gnawing on his bottom lip as he bobs his head with the lyrical punches and runs. 

     You smile to yourself, leaning your back against the counter beside him.

     "This is good, Bin," you nod earnestly. 

     "Yeah?" he asks, returning to his soapy task.

     "It really is. Hyunjin's pretty damn fast. Not as fast as you, but who is?" 

You grin, bumping your hip into his side.

     He smirks down into the bubbles.

     He's wanted to make music for as long as you've known him, and even fifteen years ago he could spit out a diss track that would have you wetting yourself laughing. He and his buddy, Hyunjin, met in high school and started messing around with music senior year. They committed to the dream, and both worked full-time gigs - Hyunjin as a tattoo artist and Changbin as a personal trainer - while promoting their artistry in their spare time. Production was a tough road to take when they were counting on nothing but raw talent and guts, but you'd always been an unflinching supporter.

     "We've got a gig next Saturday...at The Eight Ball," he remarks, looking over at you as a proud smile presses a tiny dimple into his bread cheek.

     "What?!" you squeal, turning to smack him on the arm. "Dude, that's fantastic! Oh my god, congratulations!"

     "Thanks, and ouch!" he replies, rubbing his arm with a pout that you ignore. It couldn't possibly have hurt him, not with those biceps.

     He moves to the fridge, a grin still plastered on his face.

     "You should come!" he urges over his shoulder as he appraises his sister's stash before grabbing an energy drink. "I know the boyfriend isn't into rap, but you could come with Nari..."

     You scoff softly.

     "Doesn't really matter what he likes anymore," you mumble bitterly.

     Changbin freezes as he's about to crack open the beverage in his hand.

     "Wait, what? Did you guys...is that over?"

     You purse your lips and nod. Changbin looks completely taken off guard in a way that surprises you. 

“When did that happen?”

You reach back to clutch at the cold tile of the countertop.

“Beginning of the year.”

He scratches his head.

“Nari didn’t…why didn’t you say something?”

You shrug, your eyes falling. For reasons you'd never considered, you’d rarely brought your ex around or even brought him up to Changbin. 

He turns to the still open fridge and swaps out his energy drink for two beers, opening both and sliding one across the island between you.

     "How you holding up?" he asks in earnest concern, a little furrow appearing between his dark brows.

     You want to tell him that you're fine - it's what you've been telling everyone else - but from the way he holds your gaze before letting his eyes search your face, he's looking for a real answer. You pull your lip between your teeth. You're not ready to form the words that spell the truth. He sees it.

    "Ah," he waves dismissively, "Fuck that guy. You're too good for him anyway. What an idiot."

      You blink, a little smirk tugging at your lips.

     "You don't have to hate on him just because we're-"

     "I'm hating on him because I hate him," he stares at you unflinchingly, taking another swig of his beer. "He wasn't good to you, didn't make you happy. I'm glad he's gone. Seriously, fuck him."

     You didn't expect that sort of reaction out of Changbin. Not that you expected anything, but the strong, certain tone he took in regards to your ex's unworthiness has a tiny little warmth glowing in your chest. It was like him to feel strongly and take a stand, but to have his conviction aimed at you...

     "Thanks, Bin," you murmur softly, hiding your smile behind your beer.

     The young man nods, and his lips part as if to speak when his phone buzzes in his pocket. As he answers the call - clearly, from the nature of his greeting, one of his buddies - you're reminded that you’re trespassing on his Friday night. Draining your beer, you grab your bag and slip out of the kitchen. 

     You huff a little sigh as you pull on your shoes, lingering listlessly for a moment before pulling open the door. The thought of going home has your stomach churning. You can't go back and be alone there. 

You can't.

     You have to.

     How pathetic could you possibly get? you consider sickly, staring out into the darkness. Your self-loathing and mounting anxiety battle for dominance as you will yourself to take the step over the threshold that will carry you to your car…

     Click.

     The door swishes shut, and you blink in confusion before you note a bulky arm stretched over your shoulder, hand pressed to the wooden frame below the peephole.

     You turn into Changbin's frame and he jostles backwards, hand dropping to your shoulder.

     "Where do you think you're going?" he asks, a little smirk playing on his lips.

     You try to get your bearings as you resurface from the flash flood of inner turmoil, blinking up at him in confusion.

     "Uuhh...home?" you answer, jerking a thumb back toward your intended exit.

     Changbin shakes his head. 

     "You just got here."

     "Well...I came to see Nari but she's gone, so..." 

     When the faintest shadow of hurt seems to flicker over his features at your words, you stammer to clarify.

     "Bin, it's Friday, I- you've got plans, right? I don't want to be in the way...Like, it's really nice seeing you don't get me wrong, but, it would suck to have one of your sister's random friends underfoot if you're...if..."

     You trail off. He's watching you in amusement now, arms crossed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked just a little higher than the other.

     "What?" you press him, now a bit self-conscious at your rambling and still on edge from the surging anxiety of moments ago. 

     Damn, what was with you? You'd been a mess lately, and now you couldn't even get your words out with Nari's kid brother?

     "I do have plans."

     Changbin's words interrupt your muddled self-assessment. You glance up at him.

     What? Okay, that's what you had been trying to...

     "I plan to kick your ass at Super Smash Bros Brawl," he quips, turning to round the couch and settle in front of it before reaching for the blue controller discarded on the coffee table.

     Huh?

     You watch him start up the game and move through selections. Shuffling toward the back of the couch, you place your hands on it. He wants to hang out? Now that he found out you'd been dumped. Nari's away, so he's falling into stride, you think to yourself. You sigh. You should be grateful. Instead, you feel like a burden.

     "Um, Bin..." you murmur, "You don't have to do this..."

     "Do what?" he asks without looking back. "I'm not going easy on you, if that's what you mean. And I'm using Kirby - nonnegotiable."

     Your heart melts a little as your eyes rest on him. He's always been a good guy, and it was like him to do this sort of thing - look out for someone when they were feeling low. Leaving simply because you don't feel worthy of his care and attention risks hurting him more than you.

     You slowly slip out of your shoes and cross into the living room, retrieving a red controller from atop the console before sinking onto the carpet beside him. You toggle through your choices before landing on Link. Changbin glances over at you disparagingly. 

     "Link sucks."

     "Kirby sucks."

     "Hey!" Changbin, practically shouts in your ear, "Don't insult my widdle cutie guy..."

     You grimace theatrically at the baby talk.

     "Don't ever do that again."

     "Or what?" Changbin challenges as he immediately unleashes a combo move that has your character hurtling toward the edge of the battle stage.

     You hop around, avoiding him and trying out different button combos. It's been forever since you played this game. Your ex had been a Halo enthusiast. You were never big on first person shooters, but you tried to get into it for his sake. He hadn't the patience to help you learn, though, and after a couple of sessions of grimaces and apologies on your behalf mumbled into his headset, he'd stopped taking you up on your offers to join him. 

     Kirby darts back and forth across the screen after you on stubby pink legs. Eventually you get the hang of things and are returning his attacks, though he easily bests you in an embarrassingly short sequence of moves.

     "Sorry, I'm no good at video games," you mumble apologetically. 

     The smug look falls from Changbin's face.

     "Why are you sorry?" he raises a brow, dropping his controller into his lap, a little smile still playing on his lips.

     You shrug. His smile fades.

     "Who says you're no good?"

     Shit.

     You shift your focus to the screen and toggle for a new character.

     "Best two out of three."

     You can feel his eyes still on you as you opt for Princess Peach.  

     Two out of three turns into five out of eight, and around eleven out of twenty, the doorbell rings. When Changbin turns in surprise toward the sound, you take the opportunity to deliver a critical blow, winning your first match of the night. He rolls his eyes as you giggle wickedly and moves to answer the door.

     You pull your phone from your pocket reflexively to check the socials you've deleted, before sighing and tossing it across the room to land on the carpet with a thud.

     "Did you just throw your phone?" 

     Glancing over your shoulder, you catch him shooting you a quizzical look over a stack of pizza boxes tall enough to feed a small army. Clambering to your feet you trail after him into the kitchen.

     "You do have plans, you liar!" you elbow him as he opens the top box and pulls out a slice, hissing as the melted cheesy overflow burns the tips of his fingers.

     "Ow!" he snaps up a napkin and cradles it under the steaming piece of pizza, shaking his other hand before holding up his fingers in front of you.

     "Blow on 'em," he whines.

     You raise your eyebrows.

     "You're joking."

     He pouts and you want to laugh. This big, grown man is seriously going to give you the lip right now?

     "That's what you get for having no patience, Bin..." you tsk disapprovingly. 

     He lets out a little disappointed sigh.

     "Meanie..." he grumbles, and lets his hand fall.

     You return your focus to the obscene amount of food now stacked on Nari's kitchen table. 

     "So, I'm sure people are going to start showing up, so I'm just gonna..."

     Changbin hands you a paper plate with two slices of pizza and heads to the fridge where he fishes out two more beers. You stare at the plate in your hand.

     "I...Bin..." 

     "What, you don't like sweet potato?" he asks with a smirk, cracking open a can and handing it to you. 

     You blink at him in confusion. 

     "Please enjoy this meal compliments of Han Jisung, who never remembers to update the address on his delivery app. Now, load up on pizza and let’s get back to it because I'm not trying to let you act like you came out on top from winning that last match on a fluke."

     You scoff at his last remark. Watching him pile several slices onto his plate, you take a bite of yours. It tastes good, and you realize as it hits your stomach that you haven't eaten all day. When was the last time you ate a real meal? When was the last time you wanted one? 

     "Noona?" 

     Changbin's voice makes you realize you had zoned out and when you blink up at him, there's just nine inches of disposable dinnerware between you. His lips are pursed and his eyes trace your features, their gaze gentle but searching. 

    "You alright?" he asks.

     There it is again; the concern. He isn't just checking in. His voice is soft and low, like his eyes. As a rule, Changbin's voice is strong, resonant - saying everything from his chest without even trying. So when he's gentle, when he pulls himself back...

    "Do you miss that guy?" he murmurs.

     "No!" 

You say it so quickly.

     Changbin nods.

     "I'm just..." Fuck, why are you suddenly so emotional? "I think I'm...adjusting. Y'know?"

     He nods again slowly. Then he reaches up and touches your face, dragging his thumb over the side of your mouth and suddenly your brain waves flat-line. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but before you can even process what's happening, he drops his hand to swipe it on a napkin.

     "Had sauce on your face," he mumbles, and you can't read his.

     His mouth is tugged up in a small smile but somehow it looks sad, and his eyes look like they're still asking a question that was never really answered. Before you can consider any further, he picks up his plate and heads back toward the living room.

     You follow him, still half in your head.

     When you sit down next to him, there's something hanging unspoken in the foot and a half of space between your bodies. Something has shifted, gone taut. 

     Shit, had you made him uncomfortable? Why had you stared at him like a weirdo when he...wait, he touched you...

     Your eyes shift over to where he sits beside you. He runs a hand through the wavy hair over his ear. Has he always been so beautiful? He turns quick enough to catch you staring and you put your plate out of your lap. The pizza smells so good but suddenly you can't touch it.

     Changbin initiates another round, which you lose in record time. Your stomach grumbles.

     "You better eat if you're going to have any hope of beating me again," he goads, finishing off his third slice to abandon the crust with the others on his plate before launching another game.

     "I had enough," you deflect, pushing your plate toward him.

     "You took two bites."

     "I need to cut back."

     "Like...go on a diet?"

     "Yeah."

     His brows furrow and his tongue slips between his lips as he sends Kirby into a hammer flip that lands as a critical hit and you wince.

"What have you eaten today?"

"What?"

     "You heard me."

     "I...I don't know. I..."

     Your stomach twists. The hunger is there, but so is the anxiety. The fear of being judged for eating too much or too quickly or...

     The game pauses. Your plate slides back toward you over the carpet.

     "The rest of that piece. Or whatever else you want. But something." 

     His voice is gentle but firm. You sigh.

     "Fine," you murmur, grabbing the half-eaten slice.

     You take a bite, and slowly raise your eyes to his as they regard you patiently.

     "Sorry," you mumble, covering your mouth, shifting away from him.

     "Why now?"

     "I make gross noises when I eat."

     "What? No you d-" 

     A hand tugs at your elbow. When you look back toward him his handsome face holds so many things, and you watch as they take turns seizing his features. Horror...pity...anger.

     "Who told you that?" he asks lowly, but it doesn't sound like a question. "Noona..."

     He squeezes your elbow.

     You feel everything you've been shoving down in your chest begin to well up. 

Fuck, no! 

Your lip trembles.

He's shifting to face you.

You shake your head and press your eyes shut.

Your hand is encompassed in a larger one.

     "It's lies, all of it," Changbin whispers with desperate conviction...and your dam breaks.

     He pulls you into his arms as you sob with abandon. One of his hands encircles your waist tugging you against his broad, warm chest, and the other slips to brush tenderly over your nape as you tuck your face into his neck. 

     "He's a liar...shhhh...he's a lying piece of shit," he insists earnestly, into your hair. "You're perfect. He's the one who needs to fix himself. You're so, so perfect." 

     Perfect? You let your heart hold the word in its palm for one precious moment before pushing it away. Your heart had never been one to accept gifts it didn't think it deserved.

     You weep and weep in his strong arms until you run out of tears, and then he holds you while you breathe. As the catharsis of your breakdown begins to settle in, you wonder at the comedown - a softer, warmer one than you've ever known – and you consider the loveliness that has broken your fall.

     Soft and firm, everywhere he touches you. And warm. So warm. Not just the heat radiating from his body like a furnace – the velvet rasp of his voice, the absolute and unfaltering nature of his embrace.

     Your hands move tentatively against his back. Soft cotton stretches and bunches between your fingers over his sturdy frame. Where your face is pressed to his collar every breath draws in a comforting combination of detergent and cologne. When you close your eyes and sigh, letting your weight sink against him further, you feel his arms tighten in response. 

     "Sorry," you croak feebly.

     "Stop," he implores you, "Every time you apologize, I want to sock that guy in the face."

     "I...I'm so stupid, I didn't even really realize..."

     "No," his arms squeeze you again, "He had your trust. It was his job to protect you."

     Protected. That's how you feel right now. Safe. So, so safe. Letting him hold you and reassure you felt good...it felt right. But yet again, the voice in your mind that liked to remind you how much of a burden you always were speaks up in a sickly whisper.

     You pull yourself slowly from his arms and off his lap. Drawing yourself up to stand, you wipe your hot cheeks, puffy red eyes finding his like the needle of a compass. Unprepared for what awaits you in his gaze, your knees nearly give out beneath you.

     Changbin is looking up from where he kneels before you, the yearning in his eyes unchecked as they burn with  an unasked question and an unspoken promise.

     "I should go," you whisper, barely able to form the words.

     "Don't," he says, standing.

     "If I stay I'll just wreck your night," you mumble.

     "You could never," he insists, lips tugging into a little smile. His eyes are still pleading.

     "Changbin..." you breathe, suddenly drowning again in the fizzy serotonin his words ignite in your chest. "You don't want..."

     "You let me be the judge of what I want."

     His hands find your arms and he pulls you in. There are centimeters between you. His eyes rest on your lips. Your heart hammers in your ears as your brain begins to malfunction the way it had when he touched your face...

     "D-do I have something on my-"

     Mouth? His.

    The whole of your being floods with something beautiful and ineffable at the touch of his lips and no voice, no doubt, no force in the world could be stronger than the one that pulls you into him. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck and tug yourself impossibly closer. His hands drop to your waist, pressing desperately in kind, and your bodies mold together. You flush with heat, sparks igniting in your belly and skittering through your veins as his lips move against yours. He stumbles back, pulling you with him as his knees buckle at the edge of the couch, and your body spills over his lap.

Your fingers card into his hair.

His hands drop to the back of your hips.

Your tongue brushes his bottom lip.

He moans.

     At the gorgeous, deep sound from his chest, you pull back, fighting the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth. What the fuck is happening right now? You don't get much time to consider as his head falls against the backrest and his eyes flutter open.

     "Sorry," he grins bashfully. The tips of his ears burn pink.

     "Now who's apologizing for no reason?" you tease, pressing your hands to his chest.

     He smiles so sweetly in return you feel you might physically melt. And then the smile fades and the lids of his eyes grow heavy and he leans up to claim your mouth.

     His lips taste the same as a moment ago, but their press is slower, hungrier. His hands are powerful and assertive as they hook under your thighs and pull your hips flush against his own in a single tug. You gasp softly against his lips and you feel his smirk. You feel his smirk and something else - something beginning to press up into your ass through your jeans.

     Licking into his mouth, you push down, grinding your hips over his in a slow, deliberate undulation. The groan that falls from his lips unlocks something inside of you that needs to know every sound he makes and how to elicit them. Your mouth drops to his neck.

     Suddenly, he's gripping your waist and pivoting to lay you on the cushions, slotting himself between your legs. You're still dizzy from the sudden rush of movement, when your legs curl around his hips and over his ass and–

     A loud buzzing from the coffee table has you mourning the press of Changbin's lips to your throat as he glances at the caller ID. 

     "Shit!" he scrambles to sit up, hand still gripping your thigh above your knee when he presses the phone to his ear.

     "Hey," he runs a hand through his hair. "What? Nothing. No, I didn't forget. I will, I will."

     You recognize his tone of voice. There could only be one person on the other end of the line. You sit up, your head beginning to clear as the reality of the situation washes over you.

     "Okay, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Be safe. Love you." 

Changbin presses the end-call button and tosses the phone onto the cushion beside him. He leans back against the couch and claps his hand against your leg with a sigh.

     "She really knows how to wreck a moment for me."

     You crack a wry smile.

     "I mean, it's probably for the best that we don't desecrate your sister's couch."

     His eyes widen as horror, disgust, and amusement wage war across his features. You burst into a fit of giggles. He feigns a gag. You laugh so hard that you snort.

     "S-sorry," you clap your hand over your mouth, still tittering while your ears heat in embarrassment.

     Changbin's face softens again. He reaches for your hand and pulls it from your face, threading his fingers through yours.

     "Cut it out."

     "What? I can't be embarrassed about snorting like a pig?"

     "No. It's cute," he smirks.

     "It is not!"

     "Mhm. Everything you do is cute."

     He glances over at you, a lopsided smirk on his perfect lips, his eyes sparkling. He means it.

     You fluster, gaze dropping to your enjoined hands, and concentrate on tracing little patterns on the back of his with your thumb. He sighs.

     "Wanna watch a movie?"

     The request takes you by surprise and your heart squeezes. If it was any other guy, the night would have been over. For the fourth time tonight, you had been about to head for the door, and for the fourth time, Changbin makes you feel wanted. So you stay.

     You grab a big, fluffy blanket from the basket in Nari's room, and when you return, Changbin has the lights dimmed and Your Name ready to go on the TV. You smile as you settle in beside him, tossing half the blanket over his widespread legs.

     "We don't have to watch this just because it's my favorite, you know," you insist, but he shakes his head.

     "Taki's ma' boy," he smirks, shooting you a glance as he presses play on the remote.

     You're not quite sure what it means, but you feel your heart skip a beat just the same.

You love this movie. You love that you've seen it enough times that you can talk through it. You love that Changbin is more than willing to talk over the film himself. You're not certain when it happened, but by halfway through the movie his arm is stretched out behind your shoulders and your head rests on his bicep.

     "Do you remember seeing this together in the theater?" he asks suddenly, tilting his head toward yours.

     You grin.

     "You cried and Nari gave you shit about it," you recall.

     "You bailed me out. Told her all the sniffling was you. Never even teased me about it either."

     Changbin smiles down at you, his eyes sentimental.

     Butterflies flutter their delicate wings in your ribcage. How does he make you feel this way?

Your eyes dip to his lips for a moment. Sighing, you nuzzle into his shoulder, hiding your face as much as seeking his warmth. His arm slips off the back of the couch to curl around your shoulders and pull you into his side. The movie plays on.

     When the credits roll, Changbin stretches and yawns, and watching him it dawns on you that, working at a fitness center, he's an especially early riser.

     "We should call it a night," you offer, standing and stretching yourself, but you're tugged back down into Changbin's lap, yelping as you topple onto him.

     His arms encircle your hips as he regards you with a sleepy grin.

     "What, do I live here now?" you tease.

     "Stay the night," he urges, tightening his arms around you. "You really want to drive back now?"

     You chew your lip, eyes tracing over his face. This is all more than a bit unreal, and you haven't given yourself even one second to process what's happening, lest you utterly panic. All you know right now is that your little ship had been sinking and he had hauled you into a lifeboat. Everything outside of him seems like a raging sea.

     You nod.

     "Okay," you whisper, combing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ll stay.” 

     His eyes dip shut at your touch and the butterflies flutter gently once more.

     A few minutes later, you take Nari's room and slip into a pair of her cotton shorts, which do basically nothing to contain your ass, and tug on a plain white tee that stretches snugly over your torso. How a big guy like Changbin could have emerged from the same genetic pool as his teeny tiny sister was beyond you. As you glance in the mirror, your heart sinks. You don't like how the tight fit is pressing you out everywhere you're most self-conscious. But, they are just pajamas, and they're all you have at your disposal.

     As you're about to head into the master bathroom to finish your nightly routine, you remember that the toothbrush and toiletries you keep on hand at Nari's are in the little half-bath attached to the guest room. You groan, glancing at yourself again in the mirror, and pull a blanket around yourself before crossing the hall.

     Hoping Changbin hasn’t yet fallen asleep, you knock hesitantly on the door. You hear the bed creak before the door opens to reveal a head of mussed hair and hands scrubbing over bleary eyes. But it's not what you notice. Your apology for rousing him dies on your lips as your eyes glue themselves to his bare chest. Blinking dumbly, your eyes climb from his soft stomach subtly rippling with the presence of strong abdominals up to a pair of impressive pecs with wide-set, dusky nipples. His flannel pajama pants settle at his hips, accentuating how his body broadens as it rises from his waist to his full chest and wide shoulders flanked by bulging biceps. Thick. He's so fucking thick you could bi-

     "...Noona?" he rumbles, his voice husky from sleep. "What's wrong?"

     "Nothing...sorry..." you rush out, ripping your gaze up to his. "My toothbrush is in your room – I mean! in your bathroom. That's where I usually stay, so...but I didn't think you'd be asleep. Sorry, I can just..." 

     He rubs over one of his eyes with his palm as he steps aside.

     "You can grab it."

     Right. You shuffle in awkwardly, trying not to step on the blanket dragging around your feet. As you cross the dark room, you try not to dwell on the rumpled sheets of the bed that speak of his body having lain between them, or the soft smell of his cologne hanging in the air. You quickly retrieve the little toiletry bag and, as you move to squeeze past Changbin at the door, he eyes the fluffy shroud you're clutching to your chest.

     He raises a sleepy eyebrow.

     "I'm sure Nari has pants you could..."

     "I'm wearing pants!" you bluster, "They just...don't fit."

      You move out of the doorway to make your way back to your room, but a hand cups the side of your face and turns it as soft lips meet your forehead. 

     "Good night, noona," he murmurs with a little smile before retreating back into his room.

     You stand in the hall, staring at his door, the butterflies absolutely aflurry.

     Despite your best efforts, you can't sleep. Your mind is full of the last five hours. Full of Changbin.

     He had kissed you. You had kissed him back. And it had felt...

     You roll from your side to your back, sighing up at the dark ceiling. You chew on your lip as you remember breaking down and his arms around you. You would usually feel regretful and ashamed after baring yourself like that to someone. You despised moments of weakness. But you couldn't bring yourself to hate the moments in his arms. You didn't regret them. In fact, you wanted him to hold you again. You wanted to feel vulnerable in his hands, and you wanted him to keep you safe.

     You feel heat rush up from your neck as you recognize these feelings.

     You must be absolutely shameless, you conclude in wonder. You should be freaking out right now - this was Changbin, for Christ's sake – Nari's brother! You should be wondering what happens next, and what all of it means...but even so you can’t bring yourself to care. All your mind can focus on is how his arms felt like waking up after a nightmare to song birds and soft sunlight.

     After an hour or so of tossing and turning, the salty pizza from dinner has you parched and slipping out to the kitchen for a drink. You pull a glass from the cupboard and fill it at the fridge, gulping down the contents to refill it again. Suddenly, you feel two strong arms snake around your waist and you start, sloshing your water and smacking the back of your head into the man holding you. You hastily set your glass down and turn in his arms as he lets out a groan, one of his hands releasing you as it flies up to cup the front of his face in pain.

     "Bin, oh my god! Are you okay? You scared me!" you chide with a chuckle as you reach up to push his hand away and brush the tips of your fingers across his nose. 

    He pouts down at you and you smile.

     "Did I wake you?"

     He huffs.

     "Yeah. To get your toothbrush. Then I couldn't go back to sleep."

     "Sorry," you groan, still stroking over where you had struck his face. "Does it hurt?" 

     He nods.

     "Kiss it better," he mumbles cutely.

     You roll your eyes, but lift your lips to comply when suddenly he interrupts the motion with the soft press of his mouth to yours. It's slow and sweet, and you're struck all over again with how quickly you melt at his touch - a sensation you cannot imagine ever growing accustomed to, but to which you are fairly certain you are in danger of growing entirely addicted.

     "Bin..." you whisper against his lips, "Bin, what are we-"

     "Liar," he murmurs, pulling back.

     Your mouth parts in confusion as you stare up at him, still drunk on his lips.

     "You said the clothes didn't fit. You should wear this all the time," he smirks as he squeezes low on your waist.

     Your cheeks heat as you remember what you're wearing, but you don't have long to be anxious over it as he presses his lips to your nose...the corner of your mouth...your jaw. You tremble as you lean into him, fingers splaying over his warm, bare chest.

     "Let me show you," he whispers against your skin.

     "Sh-show me...what...?"

     He draws back, pressing his forehead to yours.

     "How perfect you are."

     You still, eyes flicking up to his. They're dark and tender and pleading. You let out a little shuddering breath.

     "I...you don't have t-"

     His arms hold you closer, gentle but insistent.

     "Let me," he whispers, the tip of his handsome nose brushing over the dip of your cupid's bow. "Please. I want to."

     You swallow, eyes dropping to his lips. You want it too, you find. You want his hands and lips and eyes all over you, bringing warmth everywhere they meet your aching body. You nod and take his lips again with yours. 

     "Yeah?" he murmurs against them.

     "Yeah," you breathe, slipping a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair.

     He groans in response, deepening the kiss as he licks at your parted lips and when your tongues brush, sparks burst in your belly. You feel it all slipping, the masks, the walls - every barrier you hold up to shield yourself from not being enough. His arms are strong and his lips are tender and you can't focus on anything but the perfection of being so utterly held.

     His mouth moves to caress your jaw, under your ear, down the column of your neck, and suddenly you feel the edge of the counter pressing into the small of your back. His hands grip your waist and he hitches you onto the tiled surface with ease. It's cold against your bare legs, but you don't have more than a second to register the discomfort as Changbin nudges his way between your knees. He runs his hands over your thighs as his eyes trail from your panting lips to your lightly heaving chest.

     You feel your nipples pebble under his gaze and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief as he runs a hand up your side, over your shirt, to rest under the swell of your breast. He flicks a thumb over the hardened bud and you whimper and jump. He laughs softly, his smirk spreading into a full smile as he squeezes your breast and brings his eyes to yours.

     "Your pretty body likes me, noona," he puffs proudly, massaging you deftly through the soft cotton of the tee.

     You don't have a witty retort. Your body likes him so much that it frightens you. And with the deep affection you already feel, have long felt, for him...

     You reach to gently tangle your hand again in his coarse, dark curls. He glances up, a sweet little smirk tugging at his pretty lips again. 

     "Bin..." you sigh.

     "Hmm?" he hums as he slips his hands to your bottom and tugs you forward so that you're flush against him.

     You dip your head and your lips ghost his.

     "Nothing," you whisper, and you kiss him again. Again and again.

     His hands slide from your ass to slip beneath your shirt at your lower waist and he kneads the soft flesh above your hips.

     "So soft. Feels so good," he groans into your mouth.

     You moan as the walls of your pussy contract. You're beginning to ache, beginning to drip – and his words seem to affect you as intensely as his touch.

     He moves his lips to latch onto the soft skin of your neck and suck, his hands bunching your shirt up and up until his mouth pops free from your skin and he's pulling the thin garment over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air pricks your skin and you become keenly aware, for the briefest moment, that you are sitting on your best friend's kitchen counter, stripped down to her sleep shorts, with her brother between your thighs. As your brain races to decide whether to find that incredibly arousing or absolutely panic-inducing, Changbin's cherry lips rewire your neurological pathways in favor of the former when they close around your right nipple. Your head lolls back, colliding with the cabinet door and it clatters. 

     "Shit..." you hiss softly, threading your hands into his hair and gripping it by the roots.

     Your eyes slip shut and you focus on the sensation of his warm tongue slipping over the peaks of your breasts, his strong, smooth palms cupping and caressing. And then you feel his little puffs of breath and the nudge of his nose at the valley of your chest as he groans and smushes your tits up to meet his face. 

     "I fucking live here now," he mumbles into the globe of your breast, and despite the heat of the moment, you softly laugh. You laugh and you feel his smile pressed to your skin.

     Then suddenly he's pulling you into his arms in a bridal carry. You know he's strong, as you wrap your arms around his neck, but can't push away a pang of self-consciousness as he bears your weight. 

     "Bin, I'm so heavy..."

     "You're not."

     "I don't want you to..."

     "Stop it," comes his voice in a soft, deep command as he halts in his tracks to kiss you.

     He kisses you and kisses you until you believe that he could carry you until the end of time, and then he takes you into the guest bedroom and sits you gently on the bed. The bed with the mussed sheets that smell like him. The sheets that he's leaning you into as you push yourself to the middle of the bed while he hovers over the top of your body, his lips never leaving yours.

     As he sinks down over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress has warmth licking through your veins. You move your hands to caress over his broad back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your fingers as he shifts to prop himself up on his elbow. You use the free space to trace your hand down his chest and abdomen until you reach the waistband of his pants. If he'd just push himself a few inches up you could...

     He pulls away, just barely breathless, and his eyes find yours. He reaches down with his right hand to pull yours gently from between your bodies and to his lips, before threading his fingers through yours and pressing your joined hands into the sheets beside your head.

     "I want to eat you out."

     He says it so simply, so confidently, and you can feel more arousal gush to join what's already begun to paint your inner thighs. 

     "Fuck..." you breathe, your fingers trembling in his grasp.

     "Can I?" he asks, kissing your lips softly again.

     For a moment you're afraid of what saying yes will mean, of the intimacy of it all, of the possibility that you won't measure up, someway, somehow, or maybe...that you will - and what in the world you would do with that level of acceptance...

     You let out a shaky sigh, as you hold his gaze. It arrests you and washes over you. You remember his eyes as he knelt on the living room floor, and all they pleaded with you to disbelieve, to unlearn. 

     Yes. Yes...If it's him, you want it, whatever it means.

     You surge forward, pressing your lips to his, your hands weaving through his hair, pulling him in. He lets out a tiny whimper as you devour him, kissing him with determined abandon until you have to come up for air.

     "Yes, Bin, yes," you shudder into his mouth as he pants over you. “Yes I want you to.”

In answer, he presses one last tender kiss to your lips before moving to kiss down your body. He moves slowly, but with purpose, pressing an adoring mouth to every part of you that’s bared. He kisses your ear, your neck, your collarbones…he moves over your shoulders and down your right arm to the tip of each finger. He kisses your breasts and down your stomach. He kisses your belly button, and over your hips and down your left thigh. He kisses the inside of your knee, and bends your leg to kiss over your calf and down to your ankle. 

You can barely watch him, as he brushes his lips over you, but he flicks his eyes up to yours so often you don’t dare look away. There is something flickering in his gaze, something like a challenge - daring you to contradict, to doubt what he seeks to impress upon you - and you begin to feel something strange and new. Something you’d never found at the touch of a lover, blooming in your chest and unfurling like a proud little flower under the sun: the strong, heady beauty of esteeming yourself worthy of his desire. It terrifies you a bit, and the ugly voice that has heckled you so often tries to cast doubt, but Changbin’s lips and hands are too persistent and assured for the harbinger in your mind to linger long. And the tidal wave of lovely feelings crashing over you threatens to destroy the shabby prison your heart has lingered in for so long.

Changbin lays his head on your thigh as he brings his hand off the other to cup your pussy over the softness of your shorts. His groan is nearly as loud as yours when he rubs over your mound, and it makes you impossibly wetter. He’s so unabashed and liberal with reacting to what he enjoys, and he is clearly enjoying you as much as he ever has anything.

He moves to bring his face to your clothed cunt, hovering over you for a nanosecond to catch your eyes as he mouths down over you. Your jaw drops open, and when his teeth scrape dully over your clit, your hips jerk and you fist the sheets. Changbin pulls back with a smirk, and sits back on his knees between your legs. He pulls one of your legs up to lean against his shoulder as his hands instinctively knead over the muscles of your calf and thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, with a little smile.

You nod with one of your own.

“I’m gonna lift you, okay? You can hold onto my legs, but I’ll have you, so don’t worry.”

You bite your lip and nod, suddenly a little shy. Look at him. Where did he get all this confidence?

He drops your leg briefly to tug off your shorts and panties, cursing at how wet you are, and gently slipping two fingers to brush between your glistening lips and over your clit. You gasp at the sensation - his fingers deft, his touch soft but firm where you ache for him. And then, suddenly, he is sliding your legs back up to rest against his chest and shoulders. His hands slip down to your hips and he effortlessly tugs your ass over the incline of his thighs and flush with his abdomen. Your heart starts to thrum in your chest. His body is warm and sturdy against the soft plush of your ass. Heat floods your cheeks when you sense a slickness against him where your arousal has begun to smear against his stomach. He, however, is far less bashful. Widening the gap between your thighs, he dips his head down, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck…" he murmurs, squeezing your legs where he holds them. 

When he raises his eyes to yours again, they’re unlike you’ve ever seen. They’re dark and hungry and hooded in a way that nearly intimidates you. His expression is full of heat, and manly in its sudden gravity. He watches you as he slips his thumbs under your waist and, slowly with strong hands, pulls your hips up beneath his chin. Your legs bend at the knees and drape around the crown of his head. Your spine curves where your upper back is flush with his thighs, your arm on either side of his kneeling form, and as he embraces you tightly around the hips and waist, you feel nearly every ounce of your weight suspended in his hold. The blood rushes to your head where it lays against the mattress, your neck curving just shy of his knees, offering a clear view of his gorgeous face as he wastes no time in pressing his open mouth to your labia. 

Your core muscles flex in response, hips pressing higher against him as you feel ripples of exquisite pleasure trickle through your body from above. The smooth muscle of his tongue slips past your entrance and begins fucking into you. Your head swims, the slightest dizzying restriction of oxygen dampening your ability to focus on anything but the bliss of his hot, wet mouth. Being tasted has never felt this intense. You whimper, your hands reaching around his body to find purchase on his muscular ass. You feel the press of his throbbing erection into your back as his tongue fucks unhurriedly into you. He’s rock hard, and all for you. From the sight of your naked body, the feel of you in his hands, the taste of you on his tongue. From the sounds pouring off of your lips as he worships your sex. 

Your legs begin to shake. You’re so totally in his hands. He holds you, lavishes you, consumes you. Nothing stands between you and ecstasy, and you can feel your climax fast approaching as pleasure ebbs and flows like a crashing tide on the rhythm of his firm, languid strokes.

"Ch-Changbin! Nhhh!" you mewl, you voice throaty and muffled from your position. 

He growls against you and you nearly cum then. One of his hands drops to squeeze the soft mound of your right breast. Your cheeks burn, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead and neck. You can feel your pussy throbbing - hot and sticky and swollen with stimulation - as he devours it like the flesh of ripened fruit. His lips encircle your clit and suckle as the tip of his tongue flicks over the erect peak of your bud.

And then it all goes white. You lose all sense but feeling as you rock your hips up to meet him, the tension in your abdominals adding sinfully to the fluttering pulsating of your pussy. There’s nothing but you and him and his arms around you and his mouth against the most intimate parts of you as your orgasm washes over you in electrifying slow-motion, pulling you under a tidal wave of bliss for what seems like an eternity. Your lips part in a silent scream of his name, your eyes pressed shut, as he works you through the longest and most intense climax your body has ever experienced.

You feel him place one last sweet, gentle kiss to your cunt before moving the hand on your breast to one of your thighs as he guides you back down onto the bed. You’re panting and boneless as you watch him draw an arm over his cum-slicked chin and cheeks. For a moment he simply looks down at you, a victorious air about him as his eyes trace your sated features and his gorgeous chest heaves with labored breath, then he crawls forward on the bed, stretching himself out on his side next to you, his body flush with your own. He slips his hand over the soft skin of your belly and rubs it soothingly as he watches you with a little grin.

“You good?” he asks in a raspy murmur.

You reach for his face, bringing it to yours as you kiss him with what wherewithal you have. You pull away, still breathless.

“Am I good? Seo Changbin, I think I could fly.”

His answering smile is so filled with joy and pride and affection that you think you truly may have sprouted wings. You roll to your side to press yourself against him, your hand tugging at the waistband of his pajamas, but he takes your hand again in his.

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Tonight is yours.”

“Bin…”

“I’m yours.”

You blink up at him, his head resting on his hand, his eyes sparkling and soft.

“If you’ll have me,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “You don’t have to answer right now. I know you’re going through a lot, and this is all…new.” 

He smiles again, glancing down as his features take on a boyish shyness.

  “But I care for you. And, however things work out,” his eyes lock with yours again, “I’ll always protect you.” 

Your heart stands still. There are things that are too deeply lovely for words to be wasted on them. Any words but three - three that are already deeply true, but which have begun to mean something beautiful and different tonight, burying themselves like a little seed in your heart that needs time to grow. So for now you let yourself cry tears that fall like raindrops in the sunlight, and drift to sleep with the steady beat of Changbin’s heart.

“Ay!” Nari’s voice cuts through the din of chatter as her hand shoots out to narrowly prevent a fellow patron from snagging the chair beside her. “Sorry, seats are taken.”

She takes a sip of her beer and stretches her short legs as far as they will reach across the two empty chairs beside her.

“The guys are gonna have to hustle if they’re gonna sit with us,” she says reproachfully, dark brows rising as her eyes scan the venue for the bodies that belong in the seats you have been desperately attempting to reserve for the last hour.

The Eight Ball is crowded to bursting, and you scan the stage for signs of the evening’s openers. Checking your phone, you find that it’s nearly eight. You also find a text that brings a smirk to your lips.

“What?”

You glance up at Nari, who’s staring at you suspiciously.

“Nothing…” you mumble, flipping your phone back over onto the table. You sip your cocktail through a straw.

“Are you texting him?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“What? Who?”

“You know who,” Nari mocks, narrowing her eyes at you. “The jerkwad.”

“Oh my god, Nari, no!” you sigh, as your phone buzzes again. 

She glances at it.

“Then what was with the look? Who are you…”

“Are these for us?” a voice belonging to a smiling, dimpled young man in a black hoodie with a matching beanie pulled over his head saves you from further explanation.

“Jesus, Chris, finally,” Nari admonishes as he takes the seat next to you, pulling her legs off the remaining chairs to free them up for the other two men that follow behind him. 

The freckled blond pulls Nari into a side hug which she returns, booping his nose before leaning across him to peer menacingly at his friend.

“Yo, Jisung,” she barks, “If you’re gonna order several hundred pizzas, how about taking some with you next time? My fridge is still stuffed.”

The young man blinks wide, surprised eyes at her before his brain catches up with her scolding.

“Sorry, but it wasn’t my fault!” he insists poutingly. “I ordered them because Changbin asked me to and then he canceled gaming weekend ‘cause he had a girl over.” he grumbles, causing the other two to snicker.

“Nice,” Chris giggles.

This time you do choke.

Your eyes fly to your best friend, watching the barrage of questions bubbling up on her face when a voice cuts through the din, silencing the crowd and unknowingly saving himself for the time being.

“Good evening, Eight Ballers!” Changbin rasps into his mic as Hyunjin waves, as ridiculously beautiful as ever, beside him.

You look at Changbin’s eyes.

They’re bright and confident and determined. You smile and cheer when he finishes introductions. As the band hits the first few notes of the opening number, his gaze finds yours, and it’s full of so many things.

His eyes sparkle with seven days worth of secrets – of waking up to your eyes and arms, of a weekend of nothing but bare bodies and hearts, of weeknight phone calls until the wee hours of the morning…of a new way of caring for each other that you’ll eventually tell the others, but that is just yours for now.

As you look at him, so full of adoration, you hope you can offer him even a fraction of the new world he’s only just begun to share with you – and the reflection you see a little more beautifully each day in the light of his eyes.

-Fin-

[parvuls]

A Comprehensive List Of Jack's Canon Chirps

"Bittle, HEADS UP!" [Bitty passes out] "…Or get into fetal position at central ice. That's also an option."

"You've never seen the sun rise from a rink, eh? Thought you were a figure skating champion."

Bitty: "A fist bump! I didn't know you did those." Jack: "Ha - you gotta work for them."

"The sad thing is, I can tell he's lying not because of the library part? But because he'd never leave a pie unattended."

"Oh and Bittle, before I forget. This summer? Eat more protein."

"When you get Youtube famous don't go out and chirp me all over the internet, eh? 'Night."

"How many of those tweets do you start with oh my god y'all?"

"It's way too easy to make you laugh. Make sure you tweet that." [looks over Bitty's shoulder to make sure he tweets that]

[texts Bitty a smiley face] [follows up with:] "Sorry that was a typo."

"You only tweeted twice while we were working, Bittle. That's a record."

[Bitty gets knocked over] "I guess you're looking for extra checking practice, eh, Bittle?"

"We should get going and let Bittle here text about his walk to class."

Bitty: "E-excuse you, but my kitchen is no place for checking!" Jack: "…Your kitchen?" Bitty: "Well, the kitchen! Now move your big -- uhm." Jack: "My big…?"

[At Thanksgiving] "All that turkey's gonna make you slow for tomorrow, Chowder."

[To a kid wearing a Brad Marchand jersey while asking for Jack's autograph] "You know this isn't me, right?"

"17." [At Bitty's confusion:] "That's the number of pies you baked in September. In case you were wondering where your time went."

"I'm sure you'd be done [with your history essay] too if you had tweeted it. Is that an option?"

[looks at Bitty's tweets] "I said where'd you get that camera not is that the camera you use. Come on, Bittle."

[finds Bitty's surprise cookies] "I'm surprised your cookies got through costumes Bittle."

"I told my mom about all your tweeting? She says you're not following her. I'm more surprised than offended, Bittle."

"Shitty, don't you think I should get a tweet transcript or something since he quotes me so much? For legal purposes."

"Hey, Bittle. That Daily reporter didn't rope you into an interview after that jump?"

[after meeting Farmer] "She was nice, eh? Cute. …I bet you're texting about our lunch now."

[Nursey accidentally hits a kid in the face with his hockey bag] "Nice check, Nurse."

[in the middle of the night] "I figured you'd be up baking a pie or three."

[Bitty gets shoe-checked] "Hey, it's no shoes, no shirt, no service, Bittle."

"Whose shoulders are you going to sit on at Spring C, Bittle?"

[Shitty tears up while kissing the ice] "Crying a bit there, eh?"

[SMH buy Bitty a new oven] Bitty: "I need to bake something right this second!" Jack: "Stop crying first."

"If we move the kitchen table out, you can bring your bed in."

[About graduating] "The biggest change is probably my diet. Less pie."

"And hey, it's a bit different than you and Lardo, eh? Since everyone knew you were in love with her since sophomore year."

[during Falcs Faceoff] Teammate: "Heard you've never lost one a these, I'm scared." Jack: "Yeah, you should be."

[Gets chirped for dating Bitty] "This is a Samwell hockey record. Chirps lasting longer than the ones re: Holster & Esther S." Holster: "…Jack." Jack: ":)"

Nursey: "Yo, Bitty do you remember any French?" Jack: "No." Bitty: "I can speak for myself, Mr. Zimmermann." Jack: "Well. Not in French."

[To Marty & Thirdy] "Hauling your kids around on a sled just about wore you guys out, eh?"

[To Tater] "Potato champ needs more sleep, eh?"

"Bitty? Hey, bud, come on, say something -" [Bitty passes out] "Or you can pass out at center ice. I'm getting deja vu."

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

if you have time i would love to see what you do with prompt number #5 “i can’t believe i married you” with geraskier please!! i feel like geralt would say this when jaskier is being silly and ridiculous but also jaskier would use it when geralt gives him only one good morning kiss instead of two lol. but only if you have time!!!! 💖✨💖✨

Jaskier is still half-asleep as he shuffles to the fridge, his eyes bleary and unfocused after a late night of composing. Hoping for a few slices of last night’s leftover pizza, he opens the fridge, only to let out a little shriek of surprise when he finds a pair of bulbous eyes staring back at him.

“Geralt!” he yelps. “What the fresh fuck is in our fridge?”

His witcher appears in the doorway, already dressed and ready for the day. “A drowner head.”

“Right, good,” Jaskier says. “Let me rephrase. Why the fuck is it in our fridge?”

“It didn’t fit in the freezer.”

“Geralt!”

Geralt’s lips twitch. “Its brains are useful for potions. I’m going to harvest them later.”

“Not in our kitchen, you’re not.”

“Would you prefer the bedroom?”

“Geralt, I swear to Melitele, if you get drowner brains on the duvet—” Seeing the grin on Geralt’s face, Jaskier breaks off, scowling. “I cannot believe I married you.”

“Hm. Jask, we’re not married.”

Ah, right. They’ve been together so long, Jaskier forgets that sometimes. Their friends and family are always complaining that they act like an old married couple anyway. “And if you keep putting drowner heads in the fridge, we won’t be!”

Geralt comes to press a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “Go take a shower and I’ll make coffee and deal with the drowner.”

“You’ll make the coffee before you touch drowner brains, right? Avoid cross-contamination?”

“Drowner brains are good for you. Protein.”

Jaskier huffs and turns on his heel to leave the kitchen. “I want a divorce.”

“Again, not married.”

Jaskier starts up the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Then we should get married just so I can divorce you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!” Jaskier makes it to the top of the stairs, then pauses, registering what they just said, and turns around. “Geralt?”

From downstairs, there’s the rumble of Geralt’s answering hum. “Hm?”

“Did we just get engaged?”

“I think that’s traditionally what comes before marriage and divorce.”

Jaskier hurries back down the stairs so fast that he nearly trips over his own two feet. He finds Geralt standing right where he left him in front of the fridge. “Do you really want to get married?”

Geralt looks at him like he’s started singing in gnomish. “Sure.”

“Sure?” Jaskier lets out an exasperated laugh. “Geralt, my love, this is one of those things where I’m going to need an unequivocal yes or no from you.”

Geralt leans against the front of the fridge, frowning slightly. “I never thought you wanted to get married.”

“What?” Jaskier is bewildered. “When did I say that?”

“Back when you were dating Vespula.”

“Geralt, I was twenty-two when I dated Vespula! That was nearly a decade ago! Of course I didn’t want to get married.” Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I never thought you wanted to get married. All that witchers walk alone bullshit.”

Geralt’s lips twitch. “I think that ship has sailed by now, Jask. I think it sailed about five minutes after we met.”

“Well yes, probably,” Jaskier says. “So, Geralt, will you marry me?”

“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through just so you can divorce me over drowner brains.”

“Darling, you should know by now that it’s going to take more than drowner brains to get rid of me. I told you when we first moved in together and I’ll tell you now, you’re stuck with me.”

“Romantic.”

“You know you love it.”

Geralt’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jaskier’s nose. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The few times Jaskier has pictured proposing to Geralt, he’s imagined grand gestures: singing a love song in front of a crowded stadium of fans, holding a sign as he jumped out a plane, a moonlight boat ride and a four-string quartet. But standing with Geralt in the kitchen, still in his boxers with a drowner’s head in their fridge, somehow feels more right than any of those fantasies.

They just hold each other for a moment before Jaskier pulls away. “Want to go get breakfast to celebrate?”

Geralt’s eyes are soft with fondness as he watches him. “Did you propose just for an excuse to go get pancakes and mimosas?”

“Like I need an excuse to get pancakes and mimosas.” Jaskier is smiling stupidly. “Let me go get showered. I can be ready in twenty minutes.”

“See you in an hour.” 

“Har.” Jaskier turns and hurries up the steps. In the bathroom, he draws back the shower curtain, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his shriek at what he finds inside. “Geralt!”

“What?” Geralt calls from downstairs.

“What the fuck is in our shower?”

“Oh,” Geralt says. “That’s the rest of the drowner.”

“Excellent. Just so you know, I’ve changed my mind about that divorce!”

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[whumpbug]

HELLO!!! IT IS HERE!!! SCARAB CREW INTRO FIC!!!

i'm sorry it took so long guys i've been in a bit of a funk these last few days BUT i really wanted to post this!! i have much more planned for them but i am trying to pace myself because i've been struggling a little bit!

this also counts for early whumperless whump event day 23: well, that doesn't taste right @whumperless-whump-event (allergic reaction / anaphylaxis)

word count: 2507

see this post for info on the scarabs crew!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

In hindsight, Hari probably should have told the team his allergies to start.

There just wasn’t a convenient time for him to do it. It felt weird.

He already felt their judging eyes on him because he was human. Humans weren’t necessarily looked down upon, but it was quite the common consensus that they had more biological flaws than most other races.

This was, of course, made worse by Hari’s precarious condition. 

Introducing himself as the human missing a leg with a blood circulation disorder, an inflammatory lung disease, and food allergies was not something Hari imagined would get him much in the way of respect.

So, he stayed quiet.

After all the introductions and mission briefings came and went, everyone retreated to their respective rooms to settle in. A message over the intercom told Hari that Nyla, the pilot, was going to start making dinner.

He supposed now could be a good time to mention it. He remembered how to get to the kitchen, and Nyla should be in there cooking already, but Hari had just taken off his prosthesis. He didn’t feel like going through the trouble.

Besides, what were the chances that, out of all the things in the galaxy, Nyla made something Hari couldn’t eat.

An hour came and went before Nyla’s chipper voice came over the intercom once again.

“Food’s ready, everyone! Come on down to the kitchen!”

Hari perked up. Now that he thought of it, he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything more than protein bars and yogurt cups since the initial launch. An actual meal sounded wonderful.

He grabbed his crutches and began making his way to the kitchen. 

As he walked through the halls of The Scarab, he couldn’t help but feel a bit astonished. Just a few days ago, he was on his home planet, Earth. Then, he was shipped off to Asto’is. Now, here he was, floating in space with a group of strangers towards countless unexplored territories and potentially dangerous star systems.

What a story he was going to have to tell.

He arrived at the kitchen and quickly saw he was the last to do so.

Captain Nieven Alaric, the Asto’isian, was sitting at the head of the table, typing away on his detpad. A cigarette was held loosely in his free hand, and he brought it up to his lips with a deep inhale. His brow was furrowed, like he was trying to figure something out. 

Zel, the Huelxcan, was sitting towards the middle of the table, but her entire body was tensed up. She looked terribly awkward, like she’d rather be anywhere but there. Her gaze remained trained at a spot on the table, but upon Hari’s entry, she lifted her head. Hari met her eyes on accident and flashed a small smile, and he could have sworn she snarled at him.

Vinny, the Z’edin, was sitting opposite to Zel, but they looked significantly less uncomfortable. On the contrary, their knees were pulled up to their chest with their own detpad balancing on top. A peek over their shoulder told Hari that they were reading.. a scientific article? On biochemistry? For fun? That was perhaps scarier than the Huelxcan staring daggers at him from across the table.

And finally, indicated by the soft humming from the kitchen, Hari caught a glimpse of Nyla plating the final dish with her back turned to him.

Hari hadn’t seen many Haryen in his time. The race preferred not to make too much contact with the other PAGE territories, so seeing one out in the open felt odd.

Still, Hari didn’t need to know much about the race to know their signature trait—large crimson wings on their back with a span almost longer than their full height. Hari also didn’t need to know much about the race to know that this particular Haryen’s wings were not paradigmatic of her people’s.

Nyla’s wings were small and curled tight against her body. The muscles in them looked atrophied and shriveled, and even the way they moved with her body seemed off.

Nyla didn’t offer much of an explanation. She simply stated that she was born differently and left it at that. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation anyway; Hari figured. Still, it was not something someone saw every day.

Hari finally took a seat beside Vinny and rested his crutches against the edge of the metal table. Vinny’s gaze flitted to him before coming back to their detpad.

Hari risked another glance at their screen, and saw that not only were they finished with the first article, but they had moved on to another longer one. Hari had to ask.

“What’cha reading about?”

Vinny’s ears flicked at his voice. “Botany.”

“Botany?”

“Mhm. The first planet on the course is a forest planet, so I wanted to brush up.”

“I see—”

“Do you know much about botany? You’re the medic, after all. Figured you’ve at least taken some life science classes, but I don’t know how much time the curriculum would have spent on botany specifically.”

“Well, I was in highschool when—”

“I guess if it was a general biology class, the content would be broader, so you probably spent a little bit on each subsection. Still, I think botany is underappreciated. There’s so much to learn about a planet based on what kind of flora thrives in it.”

“I agree—”

“Plus, it can tell you so much about culture! Your planet, for example, has such a diverse ecosystem with so many different biomes. The different ways your people use the plants in each area is fascinating!”

“Thank you?”

“Not to mention—”

“Dinner is ready!” Nyla chirped, padding into the room with plates precariously balanced on her arms. Hari silently sighed in relief.

Nieven set down his detpad immediately and stood up to take two of the plates from Nyla.

“Thank you very much for making dinner, Nylath... Nylathrania.”

The syllables sounded clumsy on the Captain’s lips and a slight flush creeped up his cheeks at his fumbling.

“Oh please, just call me Nyla. Nylathrania is a hard one, even back on Harye.”

Nieven cleared his throat. “Very well. Thank you, Nyla.”

“It’s my pleasure! What better way to welcome you all onto my ship than good food?” She smiled and set a plate in front of each person at the table before taking her own seat next to Zel.

Hari smiled right back at her and, he figured he could try probing about the ingredients. Subtly, of course. “Yes, thank you, Nyla. This looks good! What is it?”

“Oh! I wanted to start with something pretty universally liked. It’s noodles with a darzel nut sauce, wozoik leaves, and some poultry from Earth! It’s pretty simple. I didn’t want to try anything too wild on the first night.”

Vinny, finally, lifted their head from their detpad and faced Nyla. “You took the meat out of mine, right?”

“Mhm!”

Vinny’s tail swayed slightly and a slight smile overtook their face. “Thank you, Nyla.”

Hari suddenly felt very stupid. If the kid could let Nyla know about their dietary preferences, why couldn’t Hari? 

Still, it was fine. Nothing she said was on his allergy list. He’d just let her know after this meal and everything would be fine.

Nyla picked up her fork. “Well, dig in everyone!”

And with that, they did.

Zel sniffed the food experimentally and swirled a forkful of noodles onto the prongs of the utensil before lifting it to her mouth. The usual scowl on her face lessened greatly and she turned to Nyla.

“You made this?” She said softly.

“...I did. Why? Is something wrong with it?” Nyla almost looked sheepish.

Zel said nothing. She simply turned her face back down to her plate and began scarfing down the noodles.

Vinny was following suit, tail swaying freely as they forked mouthful after mouthful into their mouth.

Nieven was a bit more polite. He ate slowly, and in small bites, but the enjoyment of the food was written all over his face in the way his eyes shone.

Alright, now, Hari needed to try it.

He scooped some of the noodles onto his fork, took a bite and—wow. If this was the kind of food he’d be eating for the next few years, he had no complaints.

The nutty flavor of the sauce was light and fresh, enhanced further by the aromatic greens. The chicken was juicy and flavorful, and the noodles were cooked to perfection. Hari’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head. 

Nyla swallowed a mouthful of food and tapped her finger idly on the table. “So... How is everyone feeling about the trip so far?”

Vinny perked their head up. “So far it’s been interesting. Your ship is really cool. I can’t believe you fly it yourself.”

“I do! She’s my pride and joy.” She turned to Hari. “You’re somewhat of an aerospace engineer, right? What kind of ships have you worked on?”

Hari startled at his name and glanced up. 

“Me? I’ve worked on a few. I worked mostly on airplanes, though.”

“Oh? So a bit different, then?”

Hari nodded and opened his mouth to respond, but found that his tongue didn’t move the way he intended it to. It felt tingly, like it was swollen in his mouth. He furrowed his brows.

“Sorry. I just— My throat feels weird.” He swallowed convulsively. 

Nyla tilted her head and leaned forward to get a better look at him. Zel followed suit, sharing a glance with Nieven.

“Are you okay?” Nyla asked.

“I’m fine... I’m...” Hari swallowed again as an abrupt wave of nausea had him clamping his mouth shut.

Nieven suddenly turned his gaze to meet Hari. “Hari? Are you sure? You’re quite... flushed.”

Hari nodded and scratched at the side of his neck. Stars, when did it get so itchy?

And then it occurred to him. The way he was feeling—the way it felt like his throat was swelling and the way his skin felt too hot for his body—stars, he was allergic to the damn food.

Of all the foods in the galaxy! This delicious meal was one his body decided was a threat! He would have groaned if he could.

Instead, he let out a vaguely choked whine and clawed at his throat, desperately pulling at his collar to get some air. Hives were starting to break out along his arms and shoulders rapidly, and the heat was searing.

Everyone was staring at him now. Even Vinny, who had set their detpad on the table, was in a hurry to get a proper look at Hari. 

“Hari?” Vinny questioned. 

They stood and leaned over, scrutinizing his face. They looked like they were racking their brain for something. Hari truly hoped they were as smart as they came across, because he wasn’t sure he had the faculties to explain what he needed. With their knowledge on Earth and biology, they were probably Hari’s best bet.

They suddenly jolted with thought. “Anaphylaxis! Allergic reaction! That’s what's going on, isn’t it? Your symptoms match!”

Bingo. Hari nodded frantically, pulling in a wheezing breath. Shit, it really was getting difficult to breathe. He needed to do something—and fast.

“Allergic?! Why didn’t you say something earlier!” Nyla shrieked, practically leaping over the table to reach Hari. “What do we do?! You’re the medic!”

Hari wanted to tell her to relax and that it would probably be fine once he got his epi-pen, but he could quite literally feel his airways shrinking and he figured that might not be true for long.

Vinny tapped away on their detpad before whipping their head back up. “We have to give you epinephrine, don’t we? Where the hell are we going to get that?!”

Hari vaguely gestured to the bedrooms, hoping someone would get the hint. He had a small bright red first-aid kit in his luggage, left out in the open. Never had he ever been so grateful for his disorganized unpacking.

“On it,” Nieven muttered, racing toward the hall. Hari tugged at his collar once again, wheezing desperately. It felt like his head was going to explode now. He was sure he was quite the sorry sight with how red he felt his face getting. Not a very good first impression.

Finally, the captain came sprinting back with the little red pouch. He all but threw it onto the table and ripped it open, before realizing he had no idea what he was even looking for.

“Epi..pen..” Hari managed to rasp out, doubling over when another awful wave of nausea overtook him. 

Vinny watched Nieven frantically search for a few more moments before grumbling and lunging over to snatch the pouch from him. They procured the item immediately and began to read over it.

“It’s a needle?”

Hari nodded, wondering why that mattered. He didn’t care if someone had to cut his other damn leg off to get the epinephrine in him—he just wanted to breathe.

Vinny uncapped the needle and hesitantly crouched beside Hari. They were moving at far too leisurely a pace. Hari shot a weak glare.

He would have done it himself, if he could. It’s just that his hands were numb. He could barely lift his arm, let alone have the dexterity to administer it properly. Maybe he should start having his epi-pen with him for every meal. Stars, his head was spinning.

“I can’t do it!” Vinny cried, suddenly pulling away.

“For fuck’s sake—” Zel plucked the pen from their hands, skimmed the directions, and plunged the needle directly into Hari’s right leg with no hesitation.

Hari had never been so grateful in his life.

In just a few moments, Hari felt his breath starting to come easier. He slumped back against his chair and gulped down sweet, sweet oxygen.

No one said anything for a beat. And then, Nyla smacked the back of Hari’s head.

“You idiot! If you’re allergic to something you need to tell me! What was your plan if we didn’t get the epi-pen in time?! I would have been responsible for manslaughter!”

Hari blinked. “I didn’t know I’d be allergic to it.”

Vinny stepped in and crossed their arms. “But you have existing allergies, yes? I could have done some research on how similar the food was to your allergens. Darzel nuts, for example, are remarkably chemically similar to peanuts.”

Oh. That explains it, then. Hari felt a blush creep up on his cheeks. He said nothing.

Nyla let out a soft hmph and pointed a finger at Hari. “After we clean up here and I make you something else to eat, you’re going to sit down with me and make a list of your allergies. All of them. This won’t happen again.”

Hari could tell she meant to be vaguely reassuring, but with the way she said it, it sounded like a threat. He gulped and nodded.

Vinny let out a soft laugh that doubled as a sigh of relief. “Welcome to the expedition, I suppose.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[cloudcountry]

cracks

Genre/Tropes: Fixing up someone's wounds after a fight.

Summary: You take care of Ruggie after his Overblot even though he's still on his guard.

Author's Comments: I'm so glad I've been getting a lot of Ruggie requests because I love him.

~~~~~

“Prefect, you don’t need to worry about me.” Ruggie tried to wiggle out of your hold again, his face marred with cracked scars.

“Ruggie, I’m telling you, sit still!” you insisted, pressing your fingers over the cracks in his arms, “You’re not fine! Your skin is all cracked…you’re bleeding!”

“I’ve been through worse. This is nothing.” he huffed, tucking his arms into his chest, “Go away. You’re such a weirdo. I don’t need to be pampered like this-”

“It’s not pampering!” you hissed, whipping your head back towards the Heartslabyul students, “Go get him some water!”

The order was barked at no one in particular, but it was heard. You briefly saw Deuce take off towards the school and Ace follow as Riddle conversed with Headmaster Crowley. Trey and Cater were by your side, but kept their distance from you and Ruggie. You mentally thanked them for staying away from the two of you. Ruggie didn’t need to be crowded by everyone—you were more than enough—especially when he was like this.

“Ow, watch it!” he hissed, arms shooting towards his side.

You swallowed thickly and loosened your grasp on him. He sighed, ears flat against his head as he glared up at you.

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” he huffed, “Fine. I’ll get treatment. Just stop holding me like this.”

You realized then that one of your arms was looped around his waist, and the other propping up his head. You blinked as his gaze bore into yours. He could have used his signature spell. He could have fought you off easily. He had definitely gone through worse. He could have run away. He should have run away by now.

You removed your arms from him, shifting your positions so that his head was resting on your thighs. He huffed again, but made no move to get up. You wanted to hold him, to soothe him, to let him know that it would be okay, but you refrained. He’d hate that.

“Prefect! I found a few water bottles! Ace brought a first aid kit with him but he’s slower than me so he’ll probably be a bit-” Deuce skidded to a stop in front of you, gulping in a breath of air.

“Who are you calling slow?!” Ace yelled, whacking him upside the head with the familiar red box, “Prefect, this idiot insisted on grabbing protein bars too! So if anyone’s late it’s because of him!”

You weren’t paying attention to a single thing they said, snatching the water and protein bars out of Deuce’s hands at lightning speed. The two got the hint and dropped their argument for now, setting the rest of the stuff in their hands at your feet.

“Drink.” you demanded, pressing a cold bottle to Ruggie’s chest.

He didn’t say anything but didn’t waste a second. You watched with relief as he gulped down the water. You pressed a protein bar to his chest and he ripped it open with his teeth.

“Moisturizer.” you mumbled, eyes catching on the cracks down his arms, “Does anyone have moisturizer on them?”

“Cater does.” Trey said from behind him, his brow furrowed, “He gave it to me a few moments ago. He and his body doubles are going to tell the rest of the faculty about what happened.”

“Thank you.” you opened the container immediately, scooping a generous amount of the cosmetic product onto your fingers, “Ruggie. Ruggie, can I have your hand?”

His fist clenched against his chest as he eyed you warily.

“I can do it myself.” he shot back, reaching for the moisturizer.

You didn’t have time to react to his admission before the cracks in his arms opened more, blood beading in the wounds.

“Stop moving!” you shrieked, catching his arm and placing it gently on his chest, “I can do it, just please…stop hurting yourself.”

“I told you I’m fine! Just let me deal with this, I appreciate you getting me food and water, is that what you want to hear? I owe you, Prefect. Now can I go on my way and get the treatment you want me to get so bad?” he argued, beginning to squirm again.

“You would have done that by now if you could!” you yelled, holding back the urge to shake him by the shoulders, “You would have gotten up and joked around with everyone about what just happened! The only reason you’re not is because you can’t!”

“I don’t need your pity. I’m fine, really. Just a little tired. Fighting takes a lot out of you, you know?” Ruggie propped himself up on his elbows, “I’m-”

“Ruggie, you could run from Ace and Deuce for so long. You’ve always been fast and energetic. I’ve seen you during Spelldrive. Fights don’t wear you out.” you took a deep breath before staring into his eyes again, holding out the lotion, “So…please?”

Ruggie rolled his eyes and thrust his hand into yours. You whispered a quiet thank you as you got to work, gently rubbing in the cream so as to not irritate his skin further.

“You’re so strong.” you mumbled, rubbing little circles up his arm, “You’re so reliable. You’re really clever and resourceful, and you never let yourself get walked all over. You look out for the people closest to you and you truly have a heart of gold.”

“What are you talking about?” he sounded so disgruntled, his eyes glued to the sandy ground.

“I’m talking about you.” you sighed, “I’d like to be someone you can depend on. I’d like to help you. I don’t want to take care of you or coddle you like a baby. I know how much you don’t like that. You came to my aid during this Overblot and I can’t thank you enough. This is how I’m showing the beginning of my gratitude. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ruggie shifted, his head turning to look up at you. His expression was still guarded, but you didn’t expect that to change. The most you could have asked for was to make sure he got out of this okay after trying to protect you.

“You’re still weird.” he mumbled, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

You said nothing as you dressed his wounds, wrapping up the cracks you could see in bandages. You did nothing but watch as the newly arrived Crewel helped Ruggie towards the school’s infirmary. You only moved again when Trey silently placed a hand on your back, gently pushing you towards the space in which Ruggie had left. Whispering a small thank you to him, you began to follow his path to the infirmary.

[faecaptainofdreams]

---TRIGGER WARNING---

Animal death, brief violence against an animal

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

"Fifteen was a tough age for me.

That was my angriest year, but also really important in terms of learnin'.

I unlocked a painful repressed memory, learned through trial and error that violence wasn't for me, but also, that neither was eatin' meat.

Growin' up, I was never a hunter; just a gatherin' type.

The only time I ate meat was if someone handed it to me or I could afford to buy it.

And truth be told I don't regret that, seein' as how I was always starvin'.

Those tidbits of protein no doubt pulled me through some serious drought!

But when I was fifteen, I remember walkin' a street somewhere and I saw this guy handing out samples of these little fish treats he'd made.

So I ate one, and bein' stuck up like I used to be, I asked him why he only ever handed out fish or seemed to cook fish.

No joke, he was out almost every day!

An' he told me that he only ever passed out fish, 'cos that was all he ate, meat-wise!

I was like...why?

An' he said it was because he had a policy; only eat what you could stand to kill.

Somehow, that resonated with me.

I'd never thought before about how I got the meat -- I just ate it, and appreciated it.

But it seemed, maybe I hadn't appreciated it enough.

Bein' on my own, I figured I needed to either put up or shut up, so I went out and...well...

A few nights later I was in some woods somewhere else, and decided to catch me a fish for the first time.

Because I thought about other animals, but anything more than a fish just made me feel sick.

I chiseled me a little stone carving tool, scraped a stick into a little wooden spear and waited by a river one evening.

Had mah fire ready and everything.

I remember my little heart was just poundin', I really didn't wanna do it but I had to know if I could.

I promised myself that no matter what, whether I could handle it or not, I would eat whatever poor animal I caught.

I was probably at that stream for half an hour or more, strikin' at fish and missin' em.

Until finally...

I got one.

A BIG one.

Had a rock with me because I figured it wouldn't just die instantly, and I was right.

My adrenaline was pumpin', heart was pounding, the fish was really strong so I had to really fight to pull it outta the water.

I hooked my fingers into its gills so I could drag it out faster, and once I had it on the ground I took the rock I'd brought with me and just started beatin' the devil out of it, square in the eye.

I did everything I could to kill it as quickly as possible, and from start to finish the whole ordeal couldn't've taken more than thirty seconds.

But it was enough...

Once I was sure it was dead I just sat there, looked at it, and what I'd done suddenly washed over me...

And I cried.

Just like fightin' folks with my fists to solve issues, I learned that huntin' wasn't for me, either.

I just sat there bawlin' my poor eyes out, and felt like the scum'a the universe.

It was dreadful.

Now worst of all, I had to eat the darn thing!

And I didn't know how to prepare meat or what to do -- it hadn't occurred to me beforehand that I'd have to gut it or anything like that.

So, still cryin', I dragged it over to my little campfire and struggled to try and cook it.

No, I did not open it up.

No guts, no nothin', just cooked it as was.

Then dragged it back over so I could sit and eat.

And I just...bit into it...spit out scales, tried to just...eat it.

God help me, I really, really tried to eat that fish, but I just couldn't stomach it.

When I bit in and hit bone or tendon or SOMETHIN' i gagged straight away, and realized I couldn't do it.

So I got up again and dragged it far out into the woods, and just left it there.

At the very least, I knew nature wouldn't waste it.

I felt like such a fool, and a terrible person.

Didn't sleep well that night, i can tell ya that much.

A few days later, I found a fish trapped in a shrinkin', drying-out pond and quickly ran it over to a stream and let it go.

That helped me feel like I had made up for the horrible thing I'd done.

Now don't get me mistaken, I'm not sayin' this is how everyone should operate.

All groups of people have different tasks for different folks.

Some are hunters, some are gatherers, some are laborers, etc.

It's okay to enjoy meat when you yourself are not capable of huntin', killin' and preparing it.

Just make sure you appreciate it, understand how it gets on your plate, say thanks to Someone out there for lettin' ya have it.

Thank the animal, too.

Meat is part of most people's DNA, most of us are omnivores.

But for me as an individual, that "eat what you can kill" motto has stuck ever since, and I just can't do it.

That was the last time I willingly ate meat, and after that I got more serious about how I found food in the wild and how to be more resourceful.

Oh as for the fish, I made peace with that a long time ago, don't you worry!

I was just tryin'a survive.

Regardless of how it went down and my inability to eat it, I thanked the fish anyhow."

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

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

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

Someone on Tumblr posed the question of how they figured Wander came to be a vegetarian.

Thought i'd take a crack at it with my own story ;)

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 350: That was Then, This is Now, p2

“G-Gianna?” I asked Aubrey from my spot a foot off the floor, held aloft in Morgan’s strong hands, my bright colored shoes from the kids’ department dangling helplessly, “Wants to talk to me?” I gulped, trying my best to look dignified. Not an easy task. “N-now?”

I acted surprised, but I’d known this was coming. I’d had reports to complete, a bunch of data from the study to sign off on. It’d been tasked to me quite a while ago. As little as I actually really did for this thing, this clinical trial, Evolution relied on me and my authority to keep things on schedule. At least as far as my own paperwork was concerned, and this report had been due last night. 

“Yeah, she says now,” Aubrey replied, a funny look on her face as she  processed the scene in front of her eyes; the broadly smiling Uber-Amazon Morgan holding her shrunken boss like a toy, a boss that didn’t weigh very much, at that. Aubrey bit her lower lip before continuing. “And she sounds a little annoyed.”

“I am a little annoyed,” came a new woman’s voice, clear as day, from the speakers of my desktop computer. 

What the?? Looking to my left I saw, onscreen, the videochat window already open. There she was, Gianna, remotely controlling my computer. She was here with us already, sort of. I thought I’d told Marisela to fix that, not allow her access to- 

“Hi Morgan,” Gianna spoke, obviously able to see us as she remotely greeted the enormous blonde before me, “Can you put him in his chair so we can have a little talk?”

Next thing I knew I was being plopped behind my desk, butt-in-chair, facing the screen and an obviously nonplussed Gianna Albertini, Study Coordinator for Evolution Pharmaceuticals She was my liaison to the company and the face/ - holy crap look at her tits - chest behind all the money the practice was being infused with for its participation. She was young, she tended to be flippant about this whole project and my involvement, and she didn’t look happy.

After dropping me down into my seat, Morgan had stepped away, her big, long legs quickly getting her to the other side of my desk on her way to the door.

“Morgan, wait,”

Gianna’s voice stopped the big woman in her tracks. It spoke through my computer speakers, “maybe you can stay in the room with us as we chat.”

Morgan turned, with a smile, towering over my desk behind the terminal screen. “I can be doing that, yes,” she answered, with more than a small bit of excitement in her voice. Her smile widened, obviously enthused by the tone this conversation was taking. Even her teeth were big. I could see it already: she was looking forward to a dressing-down. Mine. A man’s at the hands of a woman with authority

Gianna regarded me through the camera. Her brow was crooked; she was not smiling. “Good morning, Doctor,” she spoke, “It’s been a bit since we last touched base, huh?” Though her tone was flat, I could see a glint of light in her eye as she regarded me even through our low resolution screens. She cocked her head. “You look hungry…and skinny.” she said, “Did you eat anything today?”

“N-no, I-” I actually hadn’t.

“Have one of those protein bars you keep in your desk,” she said, plainly. And then paused, waiting for me to act.

What the f-..? How did she know that? I thought, even as I found myself doing exactly as she’d suggested, opening the top drawer of my desk and pulling out a fruit-and-nut protein bar. Breakfast would probably be smart.

“You need the help to unwrap?” Morgan asked, from her looming position over my desk.

“No I-I got it,” I answered, peeling through the foil that - god help me - did give me more of a challenge than it should.

I took a bite. I’d thrown a few of these in here just last week but it still tasted old and stale, almost like the cardboard box they came in. A glass of milk might make it taste better, I couldn’t help but think.

“So, okay,” I began, between a few forced chews. I looked back at the screen trying my best to keep my eyes off her tits. “How long is this going to take?” I asked, “I have patients to get to.”

Gianna didn’t like that. “No, you don’t. I’ve had the staff move your morning patients to Morgan and Vida, because you’ll need the time for the report,” she said. She paused. “And, I don’t like your tone,” she added.

To that, I admit I bristled. Who was this woman, thinking she can run my day, my practice, my time with patients?! If you, dear reader, haven’t gathered it by this point, I was more than a little resistant to participating in this clinical trial to begin with. I was a little weirded out by the whole situation. Yes, the money was good for us - we actually needed it, with my reduced production - but I was not going to allow myself to be scolded by a corporate floozy behind a video chat screen. I was, however, smart enough not to say exactly what was on my mind…but I came exceedingly close. “Well, thanks for thinking of us, Gianna, but I have patient care as  my first priori-”

“I’m going to have to ask you to call me Ms. Albertini from now on….,” she broke in, her body language shifting onscreen - She set her shoulders and thrust out her ungodly chest - in a clear move  to show me who exactly was in charge. “...and I’m this close to demoting you from the principal investigator on this study and naming one of our girls instead.”

Okay, that was the last straw.

“What?!” I blurted, shocked by her boldness.

“You are late with the reports I needed from you, again. I’d given you plenty of time, and you’ve had more than enough warnings,” she laid into me, “I’ve tried to make this as easy for you as possible, because I know you have certain limits-”

“Limits?!?” I exclaimed, taken aback again by her attitude, her belittling of me. I know now, and I think I even kinda knew it then: that I was acting up, lashing out a bit irrationally. I think I felt the need to exert myself in some way, after all the humiliations and submissiveness I was starting to realize comprised my entire weekend. So it was here, I guess, that I was putting my foot down. “I’m perfectly capable of filling out the spreadsheets you need.” I started again, “I’m a busy person and this is-...this is just data entry. I frankly just need to find the time t-”

“Frankly you’re proving yourself to be just like other men,” she cut in, “and showing yourself incapable of the work.”

“Oh my god…!” I groaned, as I was vaguely aware of Morgan leaning a bit forward, over my desk. My hands shot up in impotent rage, but instead of jumping in with a defense of my beleaguered gender, my eyes suddenly drifted into Morgan’s massive, plump cleavage. Woof. A guy could get lost in there…

Morgan began to giggle, a deep and throaty chuckle as my anger began to slip through the cracks of my skull and I became lost in the vast swells of her chest.

Gianna took the opportunity - no doubt seeing my eyes dart upward - to lecture me on my sex’s many recent failings. Yes, yes, I knew that earlier this year women had become the majority of the workforce for the first time in U.S. history. Most managers, like Giana here, were now women too. All her bosses, the executives at the pharmaceutical company certainly were too, I was sure. She told me that for every two men who got their college degree this year, three women would be doing the same. The statistics regarding the graduate and professional degrees were even more dramatic. What do you think the workforce will look like soon? she asked me, Do you think society won't change because of this? For years, decades, generations, women’s progress had been cast as a struggle for equality. “But what if we know now that equality shouldn’t be the end point?” she asked me, as the blonde giantess Morgan continued to keep me tempted  by her big Hungarian bosom. “What if modern society is simply better suited for women like me and Morgan, and Melissa and Olivia and Lakshmi and all the others, to dominate it? To run the lives of flawed, frail men like you?” 

My heart was pounding. Was it fear or, god help me, was I turned on?

Men had been the dominant sex since, well, the dawn of forever. It was called ‘mankind’ for a reason, right? But I knew that, for the first time in human history, that was all changing - and it seemed to be doing so with shocking speed. Cultural and economic changes always reinforce each other, so - yes, like Gianna said - society was certainly going to be different with more and more women becoming the breadwinners, the business leaders, the politicians and even the clergy. Home life was also certainly going to change. With more husbands becoming  dependent on their wives, if there was a ‘Battle of the Sexes’ imminent, like so many were predicting, would they be forced to 'bend the knee' to the so-called superior gender. What would happen to what we considered democracy? What we considered America?

And, it wasn’t just here in the US. The global economy was evolving in new, unexpected ways as well. Many countries were seeing the historical preference for having male children begin to erode. Gianna began talking about  using new advances in medical technology to purposefully alter the birthrates of each sex. She wasn’t just talking about doing it abroad, but here at home as well. The thought made me squirm. Was I outraged? Disturbed? Excited? I didn’t know.. I was far too captivated by Morgan’s chest to understand even my own feelings.

“Oh my god, just look at you,” Gianna said, finally calling me out as I stared blankly forward clearly hypnotized by Morgan’s massive tits. She smirked with a knowing smile that mirrored Morgan’s own. “This is totally going to be how it happens, you know, ‘The End of Men’. You’re all just going to give in to your pathetic male urges and slowly fade away into our cleavages. Battle of the Sexes? We won’t have to fight you at all.”

“F-fight?” I said, confused. I was - I really was! - trying to be angry, trying to resist. But I knew I was instead coming across as pathetic and weak. I clearly, obviously, didn’t really care about my position here, my authority. I only cared about how fucking hot this was though inside my logical side wanted to be enraged and rebel. I was turned on more and more every moment, with every belittling comment Gianna lobbed my way. Regardless of what I said, it was obvious that I was exactly where they wanted me. They knew I would fall into line. Maybe I already had.

Gianna, though, had worked herself into an animated fervor, and she was very obviously still pissed. “I can’t wait, I really can’t,” she began again, “for this study to be fucking done with so I can get out of quarantine and get a hive of my own!”

What? What was she talking about?

“I want to start flexing,” she continued, now sounding like she was talking to herself as much as she was addressing me or anyone else. “I’m a fucking queen and all I have to show for it so far are these enormous tits.”

“wh-what do you m-?” I asked, obtusely. I really had no idea, dear reader, what was going on.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t realize,” she pressed on, speaking over me, “how every girl around you has been busting through their bras, just to give you more to look at? Even me. Even just being on these fucking video chats with you has done this…”

At that, onscreen, Gianna turned in profile, pressed forth her shockingly big chest, and nearly gave me an aneurysm. 

“It’s you, you little fucker, you little boob monkey,” she chastised, turning back to the camera, “You’re the one doing this to us.”

“Wh-what??” I stammered, more confused than ever. Is this woman crazy? What’s she talking about??

She continued on her rant, speaking quickly, in heat. “Yep I was assigned to you and surprise surprise what makes me best at getting you to do what I need?” At that, she cupped her hands under her giant breasts and lifted them, bouncing them up and down, flesh quivering above her neckline. “These. You’re the one male I’m allowed to talk to and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We knew you were a tit-obsessed freak. I just can’t believe I’m so fucking attracted to you now, either. You’re fucking perfect, so small and weak.”

I was sputtering, confused, still trying to be angry and definitely weirded out by the delusions of this woman, but finding it hard - god help me - to argue back when a set of tits like that just told me I was cute. But, I knew I needed to somehow get this meeting out of its bizarre tailspin and was about to speak up again when Gianna asked for the blond behemoth again. 

“Morgan, sweetie, can you pull his desk out of the way?” she queried, “Just make sure he can still see his computer.”

“Of course,” Morgan answered and then suddenly - sweet lord - with the ease of someone pulling the sheets off the bed she’d yanked my desk back away from me, just enough so, now that she’d stepped back around, she had room to squeeze in, crouch down between my legs and with one hand on each of my knees spread my legs. And she had, yes, repositioned my screen so Gianna could watch this whole thing and - more importantly for her, I think - I could see her. 

“I obviously need you to imprint on me a bit,” Gianna explained through the speakers, adjusting her low-cut blouse and my view of her tits as Morgan looked up into my eyes and seemed ready to just pull the thin fabric of my scrub pants off me. With the same strength she’d shown with my desk, my pants could come off like tissue paper. I knew I’d be in her mouth in seconds. Morgan smiled, grabbed the fabric of my scrubs at my thighs, and slowly started to tear them away when suddenly we were interrupted.  

“Knock knock,Sweetie,” an angelic voice came from the doorway, “I’ve got you your milk…”

Melissa. 

===============================================

thanks to RiF again for his help editing and inspiring.

Here there be more:

[the-wayside]

I'm clearing out my fic rambles of things that I wrote that might have been things but probably won't be (at least for a while). I just need them out of my brain space so I can focus on the important stuff.

the memories of you, t/m?, 2k. Older Porsche/younger Kinn. A prologue I guess? It traces to the point at which the hypothetical story would start.

(Heads up, there is ten years' difference and they meet when Kinn is thirteen. nothing underage happens.)

Porsche has worked for the Theerapanyakul family a long time and even amongst all of those years, his loyalty has only ever been to the one who picked him up off the street, bloodied and broken in too many places, and told him he would help him take care of his brother. P’Chan had been his hero in more ways than one, but unfortunately, it’s been almost as many years since Porsche stood at the bottom of P'Chan's open grave and said his goodbyes to his mentor, replacing him as the head of security. Now pushing thirty-seven, he’s got the greys and the body aches that come with the life he’s lived.

He also knows that in and amongst all of it, he was little Kinn Theerapanyakul’s first love. Introduced at twenty-three to his charge’s younger brother, a pale little thirteen-year-old with braces and a bright smile, Porsche found him endearing in his openness. He never said a single word to Porsche for months but his eyes would always light up when Porsche walked into a room and he was distinctly quiet during their training sessions when Porsche would peel off his sweaty vest and wipe his face with it. More than once, Kinn had disappeared with a flushed face and an awkward boner passed off as needing to finish his homework. Porsche left him be because he was harmless. His crush made him interested in things he was not natural to, like gunmanship and knife fighting.

“You need to be as good a shot with your left as your right, Kinn,” Porsche bit his tongue not to call him, Little Dragon, his pet name for Kinn when they first met. Small, but fierce.

Kinn wasn’t a natural, but he was outstanding. And puberty finally blessed him. It cleared up his skin, and with his braces off, his winning smile became blinding. He was still a little scrawny as a teen so Porsche frequently had Nya, the compound chef, cook him up some more chicken and eggs which he tried to push off.

“I can’t eat anymore,” Kinn groused as he rubbed his little belly full of food.

“You need protein to rebuild your muscles. Can’t get strong on rice and salad,” Porsche reminded him.

“You don’t even eat this much,” Kinn whined and Porsche smiled.

“I’m not built to be a heavyweight. You could pack on some serious muscle if you wanted to, Little Dragon.”

Kinn flushes, “Don’t call me that.”

“Why, ‘cause it’s cute?” Porsche teased him, “You are the littlest dragon. Maybe one day you'll grow—”

“I’m grown,” Kinn volleyed with conviction and Porsche stopped because there was an iron to it that he’s never heard from Kinn.

“Are you now?” Porsche replied to ease the tension. “You won’t mind if we do ten proper rounds tomorrow then.”

Kinn exhaled because he’s bought himself a world of pain, but Porsche ruffled his hair, “Don’t be in such a hurry, Kinn, growing up is the worst thing you can do.”

Porsche had watched him grow and become a young man and he was proud. It was an awful day when Khun Korn had set his succession on Kinn’s still too slim shoulders. He smiled like he was grateful and honored, but Porsche watched as the light dimmed from his eyes. He was only eighteen. His ‘adulthood’ had coincided with a changing of mantles. No longer was Tankhun the heir to the family business, it was now Kinn, with all the knowledge that Porsche taught him and then some.

“Did you know?” Kinn breathed as they stood out on his suite balcony.

“I did,” Porsche told him honestly. He knew his work would transition from one heir to the other.

“Fuck you,” Kinn spat at him and Porsche accepted it with a shrug.

Kinn pushed him and said it again and Porsche did nothing to defend himself.

Porsche grabbed still thin wrists and pulled Kinn into him for the hug he didn’t get from his father, “You’re going to be okay; I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

Kinn sobbed for the life he would never have only once, buried in Porsche’s shoulder as he stroked his hair and rubbed his back.

Porsche cupped Kinn’s face when he emerged, puffy and red, and rubbed his cheeks with his thumbs, “There you go.”

Kinn has big brown eyes under thick eyebrows and they made Porsche smile and he stroked his hand over Kinn’s face. The air shifts and Kinn’s hands gripped tighter on Porsche’s waist.

Porsche was about to stop him when Kinn looked down at his lips, “Just once?”

Their dynamic was about to change completely. Porsche would stop being his teacher and shift into his bodyguard, his humor replaced by a list of requirements to ensure Kinn’s safety. They would never be Porsche and Little Dragon again.

In a way, Kinn now in a way looks exactly like the boy he met five years ago, but he’s also a man and Porsche understood him perfectly. He wanted a memory to hold onto. Porsche isn’t so cruel as to deny him that.

“Just once.” Because it’s stupid, irrational, and likely to get him fired and lose everything.

Porsche tipped Kinn’s face up by his chin and sealed his lips over Kinn’s. Kinn sighed and relaxed like it drained all the unhappiness away from him. He fumbles a bit as he opened his mouth and tried to tease Porsche, but it was clumsy, so Porsche worked with him, gentling him and pushing his tongue into Kinn’s mouth as he tugged on Porsche’s hips to bring him in closer. Teaching him as he had always taught him. And then Porsche could feel him pressing hard against his thigh as he licked Kinn’s soft palate and dragged his tongue over Kinn’s before he let them part with a slow kiss against Kinn’s lips. Kinn trembled and Porsche silently folded that up into himself because it was beautiful.

Kinn looked at him with a dazed expression and his lips were red.

“I’ll report to you 7 am sharp tomorrow, Khun Kinn.”

It’s a simple sentence, but it destroyed everything. Porsche was reassigned to Khun as if nothing had changed and Kinn disappeared to study abroad. Porsche only ever heard from him to have weekly updates via teleconference, no video, to keep him in the loop on his brother’s progress. It was as if Porsche was being held away by the length of an invisible stick and Kinn would not let him any closer.

He knows now that wasn’t the end, but it was the beginning of the end. The true end had come at when Kinn was twenty-three and he had come back from school and his year abroad in France, strong and more defined in himself and even more set on his feelings. Confronted with a man who knew what he wanted Porsche struggled to keep the line between them. Kinn wasn’t a child and he wouldn’t be contained.

“Porsche,” Kinn called him over and he walked up to the front of Kinn’s desk. He bowed politely and Kinn pressed his hands together under his chin, the rain a distant sound that prickled between them. “You were wounded on the last excursion.”

He had some fantastic bruising and there is a tense moment between them where Kinn expected him to raise his shirt and he did not.

“I appreciate your concern, Khun, but it’s nothing to fret over,” Porsche immediately realized he had set Kinn off. A rookie error.

“I don’t need you to define what my concerns are,” Kinn scolded him. “If my family is to remain protected you had best be up to the job and to prove it.”

Kinn motioned for Porsche to come and stand before him as he turned his chair away from his desk to make space for Porsche in front of him.

Porsche complied to save a fight and unbuttoned his suit vest, stripped it off and then his shirt. The biggest bruise bloomed ugly on his waist and up onto his ribs. It looked and felt like he had been hit with a boulder. Kinn’s fingers reached out and hovered over touching him. Porsche also realized that he’s softer in places than Kinn remembered, Porsche’s want and willingness to lean and hone his body had taken somewhat of a backseat due to his lessened workload. He’s still cut and his stomach ripples as he turns away from Kinn, but there is a soft overlay that cushions his stomach as Kinn grasps him and holds him by the pained part of his side.

“Ow,” Porsche can’t help it, and perversely, Kinn digs into it harder. Porsche pushes him off and Kinn grabs the back of his thigh and Porsche stumbles into him. Kinn hooks his hands around Porsche’s thighs and somehow hikes him up onto his lap in the chair.

Porsche is left to look down at Kinn, his thighs on either side of Kinn’s as Kinn held his hips, eyes trained on his bruise. He asked Porsche, “Did you kill them?”

“Of course, I killed them. They could have harmed the family.”

Kinn ducked and pressed his forehead against Porsche’s bare chest, “The family.”

Porsche yelped as strong fingers dig into his rear and he tried to pry Kinn loose, “Khun—”

“Fuck you,” Kinn told him once again, those big brown eyes coming up to scorn him. One hand loosens and grabbed Porsche by the back of the neck and yanked him down to press him against Kinn’s mouth. Unlike the clumsy eighteen-year-old, Kinn at twenty-three had practiced, and he stole Porsche’s breath away as he consumed him, tongue demanding entrance into his mouth, doing anything, including jabbing Porsche’s bruise to get it. Porsche gasped, startled and Kinn was inside. His grip meant that Porsche couldn’t go anywhere, he was left pinned as Kinn leaned up into him and repeated back to him the same kiss he was given when they kissed last, but it was not the same. It was not humble or kind. Kinn owned him and left him wrought and raw, breath heavy as Kinn finally let him go.

Porsche was about to speak, to curb the insanity, when Kinn hauls him up with strong, stronger than Porsche remembers, arms and carries him towards the bedroom. Porsche pushed at him, “Kinn.”

“I’m a better fuck than half the guys you’ve been with. If not, I’ll never say another word.”

Porsche should have ended it, but he didn’t. He could make infinite excuses: he was weak, he was lonely, it had been a long time, and Kinn was there. The only one that was true was that in that moment, Porsche wanted him. He forgot about the history, he forgot about his place in it all and he simply wanted the gorgeous man in front of him who made him feel special because five years had passed and Porsche was still at the forefront of his mind. Because it was Kinn.

He still remembers how he cried out when he came, shameless, and Kinn crowing victoriously he wrapped his fingers around Porsche’s throat to hold him back to Kinn’s chest. The window Kinn pressed him into was cold and his legs ached but his body shivered hotly. He mewled and shook and it was exhilarating and embarrassing because Kinn was right. He was a better lay, and within an afternoon, ten years of respect went down the drain. Not respect for Kinn, Porsche’s self-respect because Kinn was his charge, even when he wasn’t, and Porsche couldn’t keep it, or his legs, together.

Maybe Kinn thought that if they slept together things would change. Porsche would change. But he didn’t. He showered and dressed and he presented himself to Kinn’s bedraggled hair and sleep-rumpled face.

“You have a meeting at 10 am, Khun Kinn.”

Kinn glares at him, “You’re fired.”

Porsche nods, “Of course.”

His father put Porsche on Khun’s detail far away from Kinn until he left for a business trip that was supposed to last six months but it ended up being three years.

Porsche figures they must have it under control by this point so that when he greets Kinn now, it can be as his true guide and mentor.

Kinn gets out of his Maserati but the passenger side door also swings open and a man, a little older than Kinn but younger than Porsche, gets out with a wide, almost smarmy, smile.

Pete nudges him in the side, “That’s Khun Kinn’s boyfriend, right?”

Porsche has no idea, “I think so.”

“When he said he was bringing him home, I didn’t think he’d go through with it,” Pete murmurs but Porsche has Kinn pinned with a look. He doesn’t know what his face is saying but Kinn is staring back at him just as hard.

Pete reaches out first with a bow, “Khun Kinn.”

“Pete, Tawan, Pete is part of my brother’s detail under Porsche,” Kinn gestures to Porsche.

Porsche doesn’t bow, “I serve as the head of security under Khun Kinn’s employ.”

He lets his gaze slide over to Tawan, “You’ll understand if we have to make some adjustments while you stay here.”

His voice is thin and tight and Kinn barely conceals his glare. Porsche doesn’t care, Tawan seems none the wiser, “That seems reasonable, it was a very abrupt visit after all. I’ve been bugging Kinn to meet his family for months.”

Months. They were fucking the last time Kinn came home and Kinn looks at him while he makes the calculation. Not that he should even have to, Kinn isn’t his boyfriend or even his fuck buddy. He’s pretty sure Kinn has a detailed list about that rather than informing his head of security that he’s bringing an unvetted individual to the compound.

“There’s no problem, is there, Porsche?” Kinn smiles but it’s vacant and he wraps his hand around Tawan’s wrist like a shackle. Porsche eyes his hand and then looks at his face, “Why would there be?”

[itz-me-brett-duh]

His Harmony, Her Hope Part 5 ❤️🐢

(Side Note: It’s been officially a month since I started! Thanks for everyone who likes, follows, comments, requests, or reads my work. Without you I would not have the confidence to write. 💕 Love y’all! POV changes. Mini flash back kind of. All characters are aged up! Credit to @rinksu-no-joo she put in most of the work, I just chose some words to make it flow better!)

Raphael POV:

He couldn’t sleep. Because of her. Every single time he tried to close his eyes, his mind would wander back to her. Seeing her. Touching her. Hearing her. Smelling her…All that was left was to taste. His heart wanted something that he could not have, and even though his tired brain submitted to it at first, he knew he needed to stop.

Not only because it was wrong to think about a girl you just met that indecent way. But it just wasn’t possible. Surely she would pick Leo over him, or even a human. She might be a mutant but she’s beautiful. Damn she’s beautiful!

He decided to distract himself. Even though he was tired he forced himself to keep pumping iron. One more rep. To punch harder. Faster. Stronger. But no matter how hard he tried, for some reason she was still in his heart. Like a small bulb in a dark room, her light was carving into even his darkest of corners, of the depths of his mind, heart, and soul.

In the morning he was throughly exhausted. How could Donnie fucking do it? Coffee? Energy drinks? What the fuck was even in that ‘Worlds Best Mom’ mug? “Hey, fix me up some of…that stuff…will ya Don?” His brother looked up surprised. He chose not to question it though based off the ‘I’m gonna kill the first thing that pisses me off’ look he was getting from Mr. Grumpy Pants.

“Woah dude, you definitely don’t wanna drink that…it’s good…but the side effects last for days man. Trust me I’m usually down for anything but…never…ever again. Woo wee! That was a wild trip!” Mikey was probably right, but maybe the ‘side effects’ would take his mind off of things.

“Mikey you’re being dramatic, it has only kept me up for…three days. But that’s normal for me! I told you that caffeine would affect your ADHD, and mess with your brain’s natural chemistry…But you had to sneakily make yourself some anyway. There you go Raph. I specifically engineered it to also help my neurons process things faster, so it’s a little different than regular coffee. Made it black just how you like it.” Raph didn’t. He hated coffee in any form, it tasted like shit. He’d rather stick to his water, occasional soda, and those damn good protein shakes that Mikey always made.

Kaina POV:

It was early when she woke but she stayed in bed. Staring hard at the high ceiling making sure it change back into her tight cell from childhood. But it never did. In the distance she could hear a keyboard clicking.

Searching even further she could hear the sound of flesh hitting tough fabric. She focused in on the grunts that were coming from the individual. They were raspy but determined growls. It was him. Her heart fluttered.

“…Raphael…” She said his name aloud, letting it roll off of her tongue. He must’ve also been contemplating life. What else would urge him to work out this early?

She carefully got up. Tip-toeing to see him. He was sitting now. Eyes tired and empty. She felt the urge to fix whatever troubles that lie within him, but how could she when she was still fixing herself. She decided to try and sleep again. Maybe it would help aid her faster. Maybe he would. She a woke again some time later. Hearing voices but focusing only on his.

Raphael POV:

“Sooo…guys…we have a female staying in our man cave, that’s different!” Dammit why did Mikey have to bring up her.

“First of all, we’ve never called it that. Secondly, we’ve had April spend the night before, it’s not that big of a deal Mikey.” But was is. Maybe if she wasn’t so damn cute it wouldn’t be. But she is. Not because she’s a female, because she’s just her. She’s Kaina. She’s gorgeous. Raph didn’t agree with either of his brothers on this one.

“Bro! Of course it’s a big deal! What are you even talking about? Don, now we don’t have to die alone…now…for dibs are we picking straws or-”

In walked typical Leo, saving the day. Well at least he brought pizza. “No Mikey. What’s your problem anyway? Ever since Kaina showed up all you can think about is dating, when you should be more worried about how many more mutants Shredder has made. Bebop and Rock Steady are already hard enough to deal with, not to mention these new mutants are trained. And who knows if she is actually trustworthy.” Great Leo was up. I mean he was correct this time, but he’s still Leo.

They all grabbed a slice, well except for Mikey who was already wolfing down his third slice.

“Bro you’re too narrow minded. If Shredder made her how many other hot babes do you think you made? We just gotta turn them good, and then boom! Girlfriends! My plan is fool proof.”

That was it. Raph smacked his younger brother in the back of the head. “Shut up! Mikey if she was interested in that she’d choose it for herself. She’s not property, ‘sides she’s had enough decisions made for her.”

He took another bite contemplating his next move. He smirked. “Anyway I don’t know any woman who’d want an ugly bum who can’t keep his room cleaned.”

Mikey gasped in horror. “Oh shoot you’re right! I gotta clean my room real quick!” He ran off just like Raph had planned.

“Dad told you to do that a week ago!” Donnie shaked his head disapprovingly.

He chuckled. “That gentleman is how ya stop Mikey from eatin all the pizza.” Smirking as he went to take another bite but stopped as Kaina appeared.

Kaina POV:

“Hey.”

“Mornin…” His voice was as rough as his textured skin. She couldn’t help but blush, she only hoped he wouldn’t see it.

His eyes locked with hers, like two magnets that couldn’t be pulled apart. It only made her blush more. “Hi…” Her voice felt small and frail, why was he making her so nervous.

“How are you doing today Kaina?” She turned to look at Don, needing a relief from Raphael’s heart throbbing gaze.

“I-I-I’m not sure…this is all so new…but exciting! But new…” Did those words even make any sense? Fuck she could hardly even speak because of him.

“That makes sense. Do you mind if I run a check up on you…later?”

She had to remind herself that he was Doctor Stockman, he could actually be trusted. “That’s fine…but Donnie no needles please.”

Before Donnie could respond Leo straightened. “Well it’s good to see you up Kaina, but ninjas rise early.” 

“Well I was actually up early…but I was a little nervous to come out.” Leo seemed to act like such a jerk at times.

“Back off Leo! Someone just gets out of a horrible situation and the first thing you do is nag her!” She smiled to herself, it had been a long time since someone had been so nice to her.

She watched as his bulky body purposefully bumped passed his brother in blue. “Why don’t ya come eat. We got pizza, but I think Donnie ordered some other stuff if you’d like to try it” She nodded, smiling up at him.

Raphael POV:

He gestures her to sit on the couch, as he turns to face an annoyed Leo. “Raph I wasn’t lecturing her, I was just letting her know.”

He grunted a laugh sarcastically and rolling his eyes. Not even bothering to whisper like his brother. “Sure…” Leo knew what he was doing, but he always had to maintain a perfect image.

Kaina POV:

“So this is…pizza?” She asked taking the plate and pulling it into her lap. It certainly smelled good. She picked up a piece of pepperoni, bringing it up to her mouth to test the water.

CRASH! She jumped causing her to drop her bite. “W-What was that?”

“Mikey.” They all said it in unison like they had practiced it every day.

And out he stumbled. “Here’s the lovely lady! I was just working on my ninjitsu, gotta stay sharp.” He started doing tricks with his nunchucks, it was awesome but she could tell he was showing off. “Pretty impressive right?” She couldn’t help but laugh and nod. Mikey sure was a goofball.

Raphael POV:

“Speaking of training after your done eating would you like to train with me? I’ll go easy on you of course.” Well well well, typical Leo underestimating someone’s skills.

“Oh! Uh sure Leo…”

Raphael chuckled, she wasn’t cocky but Leo certainly was. In fact she seemed nervous. He needed to boost her confidence, while simultaneously knocking Leo’s ego down a few pegs. “I bet fifty bucks that she kicks his butt.” If she wasn’t able to he might have to kick his own brother’s ass. But he knew she was capable. Something in his gut told him she had to be. 

He looked at his two younger brothers. Donnie shrugged, “i’m in.” Mikey nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Before Mikey can say what’s on his mind Leo rolls his eyes. “No you perv, you are not going next Mikey! Guys this for training, not a game.”

“Well boys Leo’s starting to sound like a chicken to me, but I could’ve sworn he was a turtle!” Raph flapped his arms like wings and made chicken noises. He smirked as he heard her sweet laugh. Little giggles that sounded like music to his ears. 

Leo side in frustration. “Fine we’ll do it your way Raph, but if I win you have to start respecting me more, I am your leader after all.”

He clenched his jaw, but he decided it was worth the risk. “Fine by me.”

Kaina POV:

As the two brothers argue she focuses her attention back to her know cold pizza. It still smelled fine and she wasn’t picky so she ate some. Oh. My. God. It was fucking delicious! all her life she was forced to eat the bare minimum for experimental success. She never thought she would eat something so heavenly, so cheesy, so saucy, so yummy. It tasted like home, but was new at the same time.

Mikey leaned over. “It’s good right?” She nodded swallowed and grinned. “Yes, very much so…do you…do you have anymore? They never feed us this much and it definitely wasn’t this tasty!”

“Listen Kaina, you’ll never have to deal with that here.”

“Well Donnie that is if Mikey eat everything.” Raphael laughed.

“Hey! You eat up stuff too!” The youngest turtle retorted, throwing punches at his brother.

“Hey let’s not fight…By the way…I’m sorry for almost hurting your friend. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. If you say they’re a friend I’ll trust you.” The boys nodded. She stuffed the last bite of pizza down and she was ready.

Raphael POV:

Raphael stared as she got in her ready stance. It made him sad he was not up there instead of Leo. Fighting could be intimate, not sexual, but intimate. But he knew he didn’t want to hurt her. Not that she couldn’t kick his ass, but the thought of him even giving her a paper cut, scared him.

“Ready?” Leo said in his own stance.

With a determination and grit in her eyes Raphael could tell she was. “Yes.”

It started in a flash. They circled each other. Leo whipped out his swords and she…she…where was she…?

Kaina POV:

“Woah!” One of the other brothers exclaimed.

Even though she had the advantage right now she knew she couldn’t get cocky. “Where’d she go?” She reappeared as quick as she had vanished and did a move known as Meia Lua de Compasso. Her foot kicking Leo down hard. Enough to knock the wind out of him for awhile.

Raphael POV:

Could she be anymore badass? Raphael never thought turning invisible could also be a turn on but it was. Knowing that his brothers where all there though he pushed it out of his mind. It would not happen. It could not. She did not feel the same and she never would. Or at least that’s what he thought. He followed his brother up to the mat.

Leo groaned in pain holding his head down. “So big bro where’s our fifty bucks?” She laughed again at his comment and he smiled at her. “You did amazing out there Kaina!”

“Thanks Raphael!” He blushed hoping none of his brothers or her could see it. He had to remind himself again that nothing would happen. But when he looked back up at her…she was…Was she was blushing too…?

[thelazyhermits]

Recently, I came up with a super cute TWST idea, and since it's Christmas-related, I decided to make a post about it for today. I'll put everything under the cut.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!! 😊💕💕

Okay, so in the past, I've stated that I don't think Christmas is an actual holiday in TW since there's never any indication of it being a holiday, so as far as my TWST series is concerned, it's only a holiday in Yuu's world.

Despite Christmas not being a thing in TW, Yuu still decided to get presents for her friends cause she had always wanted to celebrate the holiday with friends, so even if she couldn't do anything else related to the holday, she wanted to at least give her friends gifts.

Originally, I had planned on that being the extent of what Yuu did for Christmas, but then, a new idea hit me, which is why this post came about.

This new idea involves the Ramshackle Ghosts wanting to do something special for Yuu/Grim during the winter break, and they do this by making use of all the Christmas-related info they've gained from Yuu who was more than happy to tell them all about the holiday from her world.

After learning about Christmas and seeing how much Yuu really wants to celebrate it, the Ramshackle Ghosts decide that they'll throw a Christmas party for her and Grim during the winter break since they think that'll be a great way to make this break more enjoyable for Yuu/Grim who don't have anywhere to go during the break like the majority of the student body.

However, there's only so much the ghosts can do on their own. That's why they reach out to Sam before winter break begins cause he's told them in the past to get in contact with him if Yuu ever needs anything but is unwilling to ask since she's not the type to depend on adults, even when she really should.

Upon learning about Christmas and their plans to throw a party for Yuu/Grim from Ramshackle Ghosts, Sam immediately agrees to lend a hand since he wants Yuu to have something to enjoy during the upcoming winter break.

Plus, this is the perfect way to give gifts to Yuu since she won't be able to refuse them if they're given in the spirit of this holiday, which is an ideal arrangement to Sam who would really like to be able to dote on her a little, although he mostly just wants to ensure she has everything that he thinks she needs to live comfortably since he doesn't like how she always seems to be making sacrifices on her part in order to take care of Grim.

But Sam also does want to just spoil her since he's become rather fond of his favorite employee. So he'll get her practical stuff he knows she needs around the dorm as well as things he knows she'd be happy to receive like books, cute cat-related items, cooking supplies she normally can’t afford, etc.

Because he knows he's not the only one who feels this way, Sam also contacts the NRC faculty cause he knows Crewel would immediately take advantage of this opportunity to give Yuu clothes cause Crewel hates how the majority of Yuu's wardrobe consists of used clothes she's gotten from her friends lol 😂

Being a girl dad, Trein would also feel compelled to contribute to this cause but he'd probably focus on practical gifts useful for school, although he might add in at least one thing that's cat-related, saying it's a gift from Lucius haha

Meanwhile, Vargas is eagerly buying her some weights, sweatpants, protein powder, and anything else he thinks will be helpful to her building her muscles lol 😂

When Crowley hears about what the others are doing, he feels obligated to do something for Yuu too, especially when the other adults are all having a group discussion about it and giving him some not so subtle looks lol

In the end, I think Crowley would just provide extra food, like what he gave them in canon plus more, claiming that he's providing a crucial part of the party, especially considering how much Grim can eat haha

Thanks to the adults, the Ramshackle Ghosts are able to get everything they'll need for a Christmas party: a tree, presents, decorations, food, etc.

What's even better, the Ramshackle Ghosts are able to make it a complete surprise for Yuu/Grim thanks to Book 4 events since that keeps Yuu/Grim out of the dorm for several days since dealing with Jamil took a few days and then Yuu/Grim spent another couple of days at Scarabia after Jamil's OB due to her ending up with a fever since Jamil didn't want her to leave until she fully recovered.

So, when Yuu/Grim finally return to Ramshackle, they're beyond surprised to find its interior completely decked out with Christmas-esque decorations, and they're especially astonished by the large amount of presents underneath the Christmas tree.

Yuu is even more shocked when she finds out from the Ramshackle Ghosts that the NRC adults helped make this all happen since she's so unaccustomed to adults treating her so nicely/going out of their way for her sake. This kind of thing would've never happened back in her world.

While she doesn't think Sam and the others are like Mumei and the other adults from her past, Yuu still has a hard time trusting adults, even though she does like Sam and the others. (In the case of Crowley, it just depends on the day lol 😂)

That's why Yuu can't stop herself from wondering if there's a catch since why else would these adults do all this when there's nothing in it for them?

However, once Yuu hears about all the planning the Ramshackle Ghosts had been doing with the NRC adults, mostly Sam/Crewel, during the weeks leading up to the start of winter break, she realizes there truly aren't any ulterior motives here. They really just wanted to do something nice for her and Grim.

Once she comes to that realization, Yuu gets pretty emotional but thankfully manages to keep herself from actually crying. She's just so touched that there are people that would actually go to such lengths for her sake.

Fortunately, Grim provides a much needed distraction when he demands that they start opening presents cause, of course, that's what he'd focus on since the food provided by Crowley is in the fridge since the Ramshackle Ghosts thought it'd be better to leave it to Yuu to decide when to get all that out for the party they wanna have.

Since, by this point, I'd say it's either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, Yuu agrees to opening presents since she's also excited about opening her first ever Christmas presents.

Yuu and Grim have a great time opening presents since they love all the presents they were given, although Grim does complain about all the practical gifts and the muscle-building ones he got.

(Much to Grim's delight, pretty much everyone gave him a can of tuna since it's well-known how much he loves the stuff lol)

One of the presents Yuu especially got excited about was the Christmas sweater Crewel made for her, which she was amazed by how authentic it looked considering the only kind of reference he would've had is whatever he heard from the Ramshackle Ghosts.

Yuu immediately puts on the sweater and the fuzzy cat socks she got from Trein, which she will definitely be wearing for the rest of the day.

Yuu also loved the books and sewing/knitting supplies she got from the Ramshackle Ghosts who know her tastes well thanks to living with her the last few months.

After they finish opening presents, Grim starts complaining about being hungry, so Yuu decides to get to work on getting the food provided by Crowley ready.

It's during this time that Floyd calls Yuu, asking her if she and Grim want to come over to the Mostro Lounge to eat lunch with him, Jade, and Azul since it's boring when it's just the three of them eating together.

This leads to Yuu inviting the Octatro over to join the Ramshackle Christmas party since she figures the more people, the better, and she wants to enjoy the party the Ramshackle Ghosts prepared but also spend time with her friends if they're available.

Unsurprisingly, Floyd is all for going to a party since that sounds way more fun than what they've got going on at the Mostro Lounge, and once he tells Jade about it, Jade agrees since it sounds fun and because this is another opportunity to learn more about Yuu's world.

Azul doesn't trust the twins to behave themselves, so he also comes. Plus, he's also curious about what a Christmas party is like.

After that call ends, Yuu decides to also send an invitation to Kalim and Jamil, and of course, Kalim is all too happy to come since he'd never turn down a party invitation.

Since Kalim is coming, that means Jamil has to as well, but since he's curious about this otherworldly holiday, he doesn't mind attending, although he's definitely not pleased about seeing the Octatrio once they all get to Ramshackle lol

Since the Octatrio and the Scarabia duo all bring food since they wanted to contribute to the party, there ends up being quite the feast which Grim is naturally very happy about.

Kalim and Floyd get a big kick out of the Christmas decorations and excitedly check out every nook and cranny of the dorm that's decorated.

Meanwhile, the other three are much more calm as they observe everything that's so foreign to them.

In the end, they all find themselves liking the Christmas decor, but Kalim is definitely the biggest fan of it - to the point he wants to start hosting Christmas parties from now on and make it a holiday in the Scalding Sands, much to Jamil's exasperation.

Aside from enjoying the decorations and food, I like the idea of everyone playing games for entertainment and also maybe exchanging stories about what's commonly done in their hometowns during this time of year.

All in all, Yuu has a great first ever Christmas since she's able to spend it with her friends and have all this fun with them - fun that she would've never experienced back in her world.

It's a memory she'll treasure for the rest of her life.

[yoghurtsjournal]

Estrogen Day 2

12/10/24

Took my t blocker at around 11:15am. Again, tasted awful. But it went down so much easier. I felt a bit queasy for a few minutes around 12:15 but it was mostly as I needed to pee. Then come to about 1:30pm and I was dying as my body was in fight or flight. It really did a number on my tummy, to say the least, but once I went to the toilet I was all good. 1:50pm, I took the estrogen tablet and again I started giggling once I took it.

My skin feels sensitive, like more so than usual. I can REALLY taste the salt in my food. My appetite has more than doubled, which is an instant sign my body is telling me I need to take in more protein to make boob!!!! The most surprising thing as been how often ive peed. I have now peed fourteen times today. I do not understand how. It wasn’t even lots of pee, either.

Super super cool!!!! There was the odd queasiness spell and doing a lot of physical labour at my work today probably didn’t help, but hey I did it!! And if my boss is mad I didn’t do as much as I was tasked then I oopsie I literally told her I was on new meds <3

So much progress and infinite more to go. I’m so excited !!!!

[somnicordia]

4 5

by TheHangedMan

XVI. America Burning

[[ chreon, aeon, past! chrisker, metaltango, rated e, 16/45, 8k]]

There were a hundred different protests that rose up and died in the back of Claire’s throat. Chris had trained her— she’d proven herself to be more than ‘a kid barely out of highschool’! She balled up her fists and squared her shoulders, staring down Jill like it might have been an even fight. “Please… Claire.” Chris cut in, the rage having seeped out of his voice. “I’m not keeping you out of this to spite you.” “Then why are you?” Claire spun, feeling hot, angry tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. God, she hated that her gut instinct was to cry when things went wrong. This was not going to make her seem as strong as she needed them to think she was.

“You guys are leaving tomorrow?” Claire stood, taking another drink of her beer before placing down on a coaster.

“Yeah. We’re following a trail of weapons dealers that might be in possession of the T-Veronica virus from Rockfort. If we can find them, their trail might lead back to—“ Suddenly, Chris halted in his tracks, eyes open and fixed on the ceiling.

Wesker.

Claire hadn’t been there for their fight, but she had seen the facility collapse in on itself. When Chris had told her he knew without a doubt that Wesker had survived— that he’d become something less than human— it had been hard to believe, but she’d had no other choice. Her brother wouldn’t lie about something like that.

Besides, he was haunted by it.

Claire could see it eating at him. It wasn’t quite an obsession, but it was nearing it. The new workout routine and the bulking were a product of it. He’d probably put on ten pounds of pure muscle since Antarctica and there was no sign of stopping there. Since he quit smoking, he smelled more like protein powder than cigarette smoke.

“It’s fine. Confidential information and all that. I get it.” Claire opened the fridge door as she verbally closed another. The small, but colorful, cake was in her hand, withdrawn from the nearly empty fridge. All these little things were connected. Wesker’s name wasn’t the only one that was becoming difficult for her brother to speak.

“Yeah, sorry.” Even from where she stood in the kitchen, she could see Chris fidgeting.

Her eyes focused on him and slowly it became clear that he was looking for something. Broad hands patted at the fabric of his pants, checking the back and then the sides. Abruptly, his hand sank into the right hand side pocket, fingers curling around his target. Then the hand withdrew and opened, fingers blooming out like flower petals.

There, cradled gingerly in his cupped hand, held as if it were fragile as glass, was a single small, brass bullet. Already smashed, like it had been fired once before.

◇ read more

[loathsome-little-creature]

Some Notes on Food Prices in Occupied Palestine.

Depending on how closely you have been watching the news out of Palestine lately, you might have heard that food has gotten a lot more scarce and expensive than it was earlier in the war. My friend Mohammed Haboub told me that his parents needed money for food recently, so I decided to make this post compiling what he has told me about food costs along with some additional information that I was able to gather. If this information is useful to you, I would encourage you to make a donation to Mohammed’s fundraiser, (link) if you are able.

Sources will be listed at the end with footnotes, for example (1) or (2), etc. Prices will be listed by the kilogram unless stated otherwise. The prices will be listed in US dollars. This post is current as of November 16, 2024. It should also be noted that the information provided here may not be accurate for north Gaza.

The goal of this post is NOT to calculate the cost of living in Gaza, nor is it an attempt to speak over actual Palestinians. If you are told something that contradicts this post by someone actually living in Gaza, you should absolutely believe them and not me, as it is nearly certain that prices will change rapidly. I am simply compiling information from a few sources.

I am not going to cover international aid in this post because I simply don’t think I have enough information to accurately say anything about it.

Tomatoes have experienced the most extreme jump in price of any vegetable for which I have information, costing about $1 per kg before the war and increasing to $20 USD per kg at time of writing. Tomatoes are closely followed in price by potatoes, which now cost $18 per kg up from $1.5, and rice which has gone up to $22 per kg from a prewar price of $4 per kg.(1)

Animal protein is exceptionally hard to come by, with eggs being the only source that I have been able to get a definitive price for. Eggs have gone up from $5 per carton to $3 per individual egg, meaning that the price of a single egg in present day Gaza could have purchased three full kilograms of tomatoes before the war.(2)

Clean drinking water is an absolute necessity, as a healthy adult can only survive without water for three days, and can only remain able to do physical activities for about one day without water. While water bottles are one of the less expensive items on this list, at $2 per bottle up from 50 cents before the war(3) the constant need for drinking water means this cost will add up very quickly.

Wheat flour, one of the most important foodstuffs on this list, is extremely difficult to come by, with a 25KG bag costing approximately between 70 USD(3) to $150 USD(4)

As you can probably imagine, the cost of keeping a family fed and in good health is astronomical in daily life, making fundraising for things like medical expenses and evacuation all the more difficult and uncertain. I hope this post has helped shed a little light on the practical realities of life in Gaza, and I hope more than anything that it helps convince some of you to help materially support Gazans in their struggle for survival.

Footnotes under the cut

Footnotes

(1) all of these prices were kindly provided by Mohammed Haboub. Link to his blog

(2) the price of eggs was also given to me by Mohammed.

(3) this price is according to Hani Alanqar link to his blog

(4) Al Jazeera link. Al Jazeera does not provide a clear source for this number however it seems reasonable for an upper estimate

[clonerightsagenda]

Sick

We're most of the way through disability pride month and I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this WIP because I'm stuck over how literal to make some of the elements. So, I am posting it because I am curious if any of the weirdness resonates with other people. Enjoy my magical disability cure codependent haunting thing, and also I am going to post a rambling author's note about it.

The morning after the surgery, your Sick is sitting at the kitchen table. It looks good, for a corpse. It’s wearing the ‘I love dying and being dead’ t-shirt you joked about buying two diagnoses ago, pulled over a laced-shut hospital gown.

“What?” it asks. “You had more of a sense of humor when you were sick.”

The doctors warned you that your neurochemistry might be out of balance. You’re adjusting to the sudden lifting of brain fog after moving through the world in a protective cocoon of pharmaceuticals. They didn’t mention hallucinations.

“Think of me like a phantom limb.” Your Sick sips one of those awful plant-based protein drinks that still lurk in the back of your pantry. “Why did you do it?”

Talking to hallucinations probably makes them worse. You do it anyway. “You were killing me.”

“This world is killing you. But you finished yourself off first.”

You sit down across from it in one effortless motion. “That’s not what happened.”

“Right. I’m the enemy. So it doesn’t matter if I’m rotting at the bottom of a biohazard bin.” It considers you. “What’s it like not to hurt?”

What is it like? You’d woken up and lain there for a while, waiting. “Like holding my breath.”

“You’re in charge of all that now.” It nods, the motion referencing the length of your body. “Need to stay on top of it.”

“Like I need advice from you,” you say, but you blink, and the phantom’s gone.

60,000 pieces of microplastic. 7.2 micrograms per liter of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. 1:640 antinuclear antibody titer.

That's what they peel you out of. A second nervous system of petroleum products and misfiring T cells, the stuff that's been running your life via mob rule for a decade. They tell you that you weigh five grams less now.

They tell you, don't be surprised if at first it feels like something is missing.

I thought that was just for rich people, your friend says. She messaged you to remind you to take your meds, and you told her that you would never have to take your meds again. Celebrities and politicians.

Work decided it was cheaper to fix me than replace me, you message back. Score one for being essential.

Perks of your top-secret job.

I promise it's boring. Critical infrastructure usually is.

Did you look?

Some people share post-op pictures. They’re usually underwhelming if you don’t know what to look for - the subtle swelling over an aggravated nerve, hints of boniness in the knuckles. Shadows of bruises that never go away. No. I should’ve, though. I asked for hospital socks when they were prepping me but then obviously after I didn’t have them anymore. Who knows if I’ll get another chance.

You might be finished with surgeries forever and you’re disappointed because you can’t get any more grippy socks.

I'll miss the warm blankets too.

Your Sick crawled inside you when you were nineteen years old. It wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

“Help,” it croaked.

Your roommate (only your roommate then) came the second time it called. She was in her pajamas, her hair a dark tangle. You never asked for her help, even when your hands got so sore you couldn’t open jars without five minutes of struggle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel right,” it said.

Her face softened. “I thought you looked rough yesterday. I don’t have class this morning; do you want me to make something? Call anybody?”

No, you tried to say. I can handle it.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” your Sick said instead.

You had been putting it off. The doctor meant admitting something was wrong, meant ��� most importantly – a $30 copay. But healthy people never understand when you try to tell them. At a certain point, your body stops being yours.

Your Sick turned up its nose at greasy slices of campus pizza. It politely but firmly refused invitations for a night out. It sanded the branching tree of your life into a wooden sphere it could cup in the palm of its hand.

“You’re ruining my life,” you told the mirror.

It tilted your head. You read your own confusion. “I’m protecting you.”

“Mask,” your Sick says from behind you. It looks worse today – skin gone gray and patchy, with a shimmer of microplastic shards risen to the surface like body glitter. The shine complements the sequined mask secured over its own face.

You scowl, bag swung over one shoulder. You haven’t gone out since the surgery – you can work from home, you haven’t canceled grocery delivery yet – and now that you’re venturing through your front door, the phantom is back. You had reached for one of the masks on the table by the door before dropping it back into the bowl. “I don’t need it now.”

“So respiratory diseases don’t exist anymore? Dumbass.”

The objection reminds you of your own aggrieved complaints: why don’t people plan events with us in mind, don’t they know how many people there are with immune systems one shove away from collapsing, the world’s not getting any safer.

That was your Sick talking. You don’t have to worry anymore.

“You weren’t doing a good job taking care of me before, and you’re not doing a good job of it now.”

Its eyebrows rise. Black liquid has seeped through the cloth of its mask. “And fuck everyone else like you?”

“Like you,” you say, and slam the door in its face.

Outside, the breeze brushes your cheeks. You don’t have to sit down because you miscalculated the balance of meds and breakfast. You start to scan your surroundings for bathrooms, just in case, and then dismiss the impulse because you’re fine.

You’re better than that.

Three hours in, you realize you’ve been curling your fingers into a fist and then opening them again. You only notice because the joints start to ache. It feels familiar.

Nothing else does.

A notification flashes in the corner of your screen. There’s new activity in one of the forum conversations you’ve been following.

It’s rich people doing what they always do. Wreck the planet? It’s fine, we can get a new one! Wreck your body? It’s fine, we can get a new one of that too. There’s no incentive to improve the situation if you can buy your way out of the problem.

I’d buy my way out too, but there’s no way I could afford it

Then you’d eat your first plastic salad and get sick again. See what I mean?

The new ones are supposed to be more resilient

But it’s not yours

Remember any theological debates go in the quarantine thread

I don’t mean it like that. I just think you’re interfering with your relationship with your body, and that’s a fundamental part of who you are, right? Whether or not a s*ul exists

There’s not a bot monitoring this thread. You don’t have to censor it.

Sorry, habit

Mod is human, asterisks don’t stop me. But they are a screenreader issue, so please edit your post.

You used to frequent disability forums. They had useful resources. Jokes, too, like the t-shirt your Sick wears over its hospital gown. But you can’t understand the people who embrace their disfunction. You took a time-honored approach to your medical misfortune. Cancer. Pregnancy. Demonic possession. Petrochemicals. There is something inside me, and I want it out.

These people helped you, but you don’t need them anymore. So instead of saying anything, you log off the forum for the last time.

You do tell your coworkers, who are excited for you. They pester you with questions over Slack: How long did it take? Did you look? Does it hurt?

Your boss messages you, When can you come back to the office?

You frown at the screen. The work you’ve been doing from home is good – better than what you’ve produced for years now that your head is clear. But your boss has always been old fashioned. Remote work was a concession that there’s no justification for now.

Monday, if you want, you type back.

That gets you an immediate thumbs up reaction, followed by, We’re all so glad you’re ok.

That chafes you in a spot rubbed raw. Everyone assumes once the problem they know about has been addressed, everything else must be resolved too. You must be ok.

Which you are, this time.

Your best friend comes to visit. She brings beers you couldn’t drink with your meds and a greasy pizza that settles in your stomach like a snake planning to strike later. It tastes amazing – you run your tongue over your teeth to capture the last traces of salty richness and tell yourself next time your body will recognize good food.

She’s spent the whole visit on your sofa. You have an air mattress from when she used to sleep on your floor while you were recovering from surgeries. She hasn’t asked you to bring it out, and you’re not sure how to ask if she’s staying. Instead you keep stealing glances at her, the curve of her cheek that’s the first thing you’d see when you looked over the side of your bed in the middle of the night, the hands that have held your hair back from the toilet bowl and now rest on her lap.

She keeps looking at you too. You wonder if she sees a difference.

After the silence and sidelong glances build into an itchy layer on your skin, you lean over, clutch the front of her shirt, and kiss her. She freezes and then kisses you back, gingerly, the way you'd investigate an unexpected bruise. There’s pizza grease on both your lips. Rich and unfamiliar.

You’re the one who pulls away. "I'm sorry," you say. "That's not what I want."

She’s stiff under her softness, like an examination table. "I didn’t think so. I didn't think you did that kind of thing."

You don’t. It’s the silence. Your empty floor. Her hands, resting on her lap. "I just thought…” you try. “That kind of closeness is enough for everyone else."

Your fingers are still clenched in her shirt. She looks at them until you untangle them, one by one. The knuckles don’t ache.

She shakes her head. "It's like you don't want to be better."

“That went well,” your Sick says after the door swings shut.

“It’s your fault.”

It tilts its head on a neck that’s looser than it should be. “I didn’t do anything.”

It’s right. When you were sick you could request a shoulder rub to loosen tight muscles or hike up your shirt, no seduction, no bullshit, to ask if that rash looked bad. You could open your mouth and let the truth of your predicament outweigh prudishness or shame.

You don’t know how to ask people to touch you anymore.

It leans in close. “You need me,” it says. Oil bubbles over its lips and slicks its chin. “I was always your excuse.”

That weekend you watch your phone sit silent on the table, no pings from forum posts or medication reminders. Your Sick drifts over. It’s no longer a rotting corpse leaking garbage. It looks dead in the way you used to whenever you looked in the mirror.

Wherever it is in the real world, it doesn’t look like that anymore. From what you remember from the booklets they gave you, it’s already gone.

“Not going to explain yourself, huh?” asks your hallucination. Your haunting.

You shrug. What would you say to her? I took away the foundation of my life and don’t know what’s underneath. You only started being my friend when I needed help, so what’s left for us? There was always another medication or appointment or symptom but now everything’s fine and I’m still holding my breath.

You’ve gotten used to letting someone else talk for you.

“I was killing you,” it says.

That’s what you said. You look at the lines around its eyes and imagine a billion tiny swords raised against invaders that poured in every time you took a breath to light your joints up with friendly fire. “You were protecting me.”

“I was the worst part of you.”

“You were.” You flex your perfect, painless fingers. “Do I miss it?”

It grins and leans against the back of your chair, wrapping chilly arms around your waist. “I just wanted to make you say it.”

The grip around your belly aches in a way you recognize. Dull pain that makes its home in you. Cozy as curling up in bed with a headache. You look back at your silent phone. “Which one of us did she come here for?”

“Only one way to find out.”

You could reach out, but you don’t move. You have never known how to ask for help.

Your Sick sighs. It loosens its grip and reaches over your shoulder to lace corpse-cool fingers between yours. Then it lifts your combined hands in a swoop like the first dose of anesthesia, when the orderlies wheel you away and everything is out of your control. “Come on,” she says. Her breath is a puff of disinfectant on your cheek. “Let’s do it like we used to.”

After you came out of the anesthesia, the surgeons asked if you wanted to see your old body. You said no. You’d spent long enough inside it – it was something you wanted to leave behind. Besides, even after all the pamphlets and counseling sessions, you worried seeing your vacant face would jar something loose. Convince you like those cranks on the disability forums that you’d severed a connection that was irrevocable.  

If you could do it again, you’d say yes. Step inside the morgue – no, they wouldn’t have moved it to the morgue yet, they’d want you to have a better venue to say goodbye – and catalogue the subtle changes only you could see. The swollen knuckles, flushed cheeks. All the other differences locked inside.

You imagine bending down and lifting the body the way it lifted you once, cradling its head in the crook of your arm. Imagine kissing your Sick and feeling poisonous tendrils creep down your throat to coat your insides with grime.

You imagine saying, welcome home.

(Author's note)

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

Good grief are people still trying to paint Jimin as overcoming toxic masculinity in this day and age? Why is this discourse always centered around him and not the other members? There are so many videos of the other members saying toxic crap but why do people latch onto him and not others? Just because the concept was to be a tough hiphop group during debut year does not mean Jimin had toxic masculinity. Being muscular and flashing abs is considered toxic masculinity?? Look at the environment he grew up in with supportive parents and his exposure to the arts (more than any other member). Busan is a hyper-masculine place and for his dad to be so supportive for Jimin’s pursuit of an arts school and to switch his focus to contemporary when he was excelling in hip hop says a lot about Jimin’s early years. His willingness to give hugs, birthday presents, compliments to others, and manners point to a very accepting, loving home.

Dumbass armys and even jikookers (tho they're armys, so it's the same) always projected weakness and insecurity onto him as if it was actually serious. Looking back, it was probably because he's always been so transparent and has always worn his heart on his sleeve, meanwhile you had almost every other member going the extra mile to act a different way on camera than they were in real life. But they took Jimin's real life struggles and insecurities and cartoonized him and a lot of his personality traits.

The funny thing is that they exaggerated all of it and turned it into something bad, while they exaggerate others' traits to turn them into something good and awesome when it's literally the bare minimum a human being should be.

Jimin likes drinking, so that means he has an alcohol problem. Taehyung smoking doesn't matter, Jungkook getting shitfaced several nights a week for the whole world to see was hilarious, and he's so cool and such a rebellious guy, so modern, so forward and the change the world needs. Like, you can't make that up.

Jungkook wearing a crop top and Taehyung wearing a wig and Yoongi doing nothing...??? means they're queer icons, gender bending heroes and means they've never known toxic masculinity. But Jimin giving presents to them since early times, wiping their snot when they cried, putting their heads on his shoulder to comfort them, always having a nice word and a hug for them, holding their hands, calling out Jungkook for not complimenting him ever and saying that people become more beautiful when they get compliments, posting photos for their male fans on valentine's days... and for armys it's "let's talk about all the ways Jimin struggled with toxic masculinity!!". Yeah, why not. Let's talk about how he struggled with the toxic masculinity standards that all the other BTS members imposed on him.

When smf2 came out, and he was shirtless, skinny, no abs, nothing, someone else and I talked about how he was actually so cool for doing that. Idols spend hours dieting and drinking protein shakes and locked up in the gym to get abs and get ripped before showing themselves shirtless in MVs, but Jimin didn't do all that. Then he went to suchwita and Yoongi actually told him how was he able to show up shirtless if his body isn't nice.

It's almost as if Jimin has barely been granted the simple consideration of being a real person, and for some reason this happens only to him in BTS.

I know I bring this up a lot, but this has always made me think of Jimin and the way people see him.

Especially when comparing the way people see the other members.

"Everything they know about me they will learn when it's projected onto you. Watch the way you pick up my bad habits and make them look good."