#Science Vital Food

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Cruel Weather (Part Two)

requests: “I was wondering if you’d maybe do something about sissy getting seriously hurt (like a landing in the hospital kind of bad?) I honestly just really want to see all the boys protective and worried about her” and “Hi!!! Im absolutely in love with the penalty box series, and i was wondering if we could get a small blurb with sissy getting injured? ik you did a thing depicting how the boys would react, and im intrigued to see how that would play out:)”

requests based off this ask: how the boys would react to sissy getting hurt

warnings: major car accident, crying, surgery, broken bones, coma, mentions of throwing up, panic attacks, mentions of dying, arguing, mentions of getting drunk

word count: 3.6k

General Series Masterlist

part one — part two — part three — part four

—————

Trevor woke up a little after seven the next morning by Jamie shaking him awake and handing him an iced coffee.

“I bet your back feels great,” Jamie laughed at his best friend’s weird sleeping position.

Trevor stretched and they both winced at the amount of pops there were.

“Depending on how long she’s in here, I might get used to it,” Trevor said. “Thanks.”

Jamie nodded in response and yanked the chair from underneath Trevor’s legs to sit in.

“Mama Hughes is forcing everyone to eat breakfast. We got yelled at for the lack of food, by the way,” Jamie said, getting a small chuckle from Trevor.

“Of course we did.”

“So they all went out and I was permitted to bring you coffee and check on you, and they’ll bring us something back,” Jamie told him.

Trevor nodded in response, “Has anyone heard from Quinn?”

Jamie took a hold of Y/N’s hand at the mention of her best friend’s name, “His flight didn’t take off until close to six, so he should get here around nine, nine thirty. How’s she doing?”

“Same as last night,” Trevor sighed. “If a doctor came in, I slept through it.”

“I’m surprised you slept,” Jamie commented.

“I didn’t wanna disappoint her,” Trevor said low. Jamie understood what he meant. If Y/N heard that he was a wreck and didn’t take care of himself at all, she’d lecture him and feel tremendously guilty.

“How was everyone at the house?”

“It was quiet,” Jamie said. “Scarily quiet. I think everyone was worried they wouldn’t hear a phone ring if they spoke too loud. Jack talked to Quinn, but that was about it. Jim and Ellen slept in my room, and the rest of us all slept in the living room and semi watched the Hunger Games.”

“Alex’s idea?”

“Jack’s,” Jamie answered. “I think it was for Luke.”

“He’s been keeping all of us sane,” Trevor said.

“He’s channeling Sissy,” Jamie smiled.

“She’d kill you if she knew you called her that,” Trevor said in a fake warning tone.

“Good; maybe she’ll wake up,” Jamie joked, and luckily, got a real laugh out of Trevor.

“I needed that.”

“We both did.”

Both boys sat in a comfortable, well… as comfortable as they could be given the situation, silence as they watched the steady up and down movement of Y/N’s chest. Sure, she needed a machine’s assistance, but she was breathing.

The silence was only broken by everyone else filing into the room with food for the two boys. Cole and Alex had stolen some chairs they found in the hall for people to sit in, and made sure to grab an extra for when Quinn arrived.

A nurse came in and checked on all of her vital signs and medication outputs before telling the group that everything looks okay.

“Do you know when she’ll wake up?” Cole asked.

“It’s not an exact science, but she should be waking up within the next couple of days,” the nurse answered politely. They thanked her and returned to their silence when she left.

“Okay, somebody say something. I’m going to go insane,” Luke piped up.

“Remember our senior year?” Alex asked, a hint of mischief laced in his voice.

“Oh god,” Cole groaned into his hands.

“We were all a mess,” Trevor laughed.

“Sissy especially!” Jack called out.

“She was the biggest menace out of all of us,” Alex said.

“She’s still a menace,” Jamie pointed out.

“She was worse,” Trevor told him.

“Much worse,” Luke agreed.

“That was an interesting year to say the least,” Ellen said as she smiled at the boys reminiscing.

“Do I even wanna know?” Jamie asked.

“Give him a glimpse, Z,” Jack said.

“You know how at parties she’s a runner and we tend to tie her to one of us?”

“Yeah?”

“That started after I tripped and sprained my ankle while chasing her around a lake. The only reason I caught her and we made it back is because she puked in said lake and decided to get in it to, and I quote, ‘give herself a bath.’”

Jamie started laughing, genuinely laughing, and it was so contagious that the rest of the group did, too.

It was needed. They knew she was going to wake up soon, and they thought they all deserved a little laughter. It died out quickly, and the reminder of why they were all in a room together was too strong.

“We were supposed to facetime tonight,” Cole said suddenly.

“At eight,” Alex added.

“What movie was she gonna make you watch?” Jamie asked.

“She said it was a surprise,” Cole whispered. He was scared that if he talked any louder, his voice would crack. Him and Alex hadn’t seen her with the breathing tube, yet.

“She keeps a list on her phone of movies she wants to watch with you,” Trevor told him. “I have her phone, if you want to know what tonight’s plan was.”

Cole shook his head, “I’ll let her keep her surprise.”

The group swapped stories, which felt a little weird, but it was something to pass the time. Even in a coma, just stories about her brought smiles to everyone’s faces.

“I don’t even know where she ended up after the party before our draft day,” Jack laughed.

“Sissy and Z ended up sleeping on my floor,” a new voice said in the doorway. Quinn.

Trevor stood up immediately and the two boys, arguably the two most important people to Sissy, stared at each other. Quinn nodded, and somehow Trevor knew what he meant. He met him the middle and the two of them hugged each other the tightest they ever had before. If anyone were to understand just how hard this accident was hitting them, it was the other.

Jamie stood up as well and offered the chair closest to Y/N to him. He sat down and took his best friend’s hand in both of us, just as every other person who has sat in the chair before him.

“Do you want a moment alone?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah,” Quinn croaked. He was already a mess, but seeing her made it all come crashing down. He was no longer focusing on getting to Y/N. He was here. And it was so much worse than he imagined.

Everyone quietly shuffled out of the room and into the hall. Quinn gripped onto Y/N’s uninjured hand for dear life and allowed himself to cry. Only it wasn’t just crying that he was doing. He was full on sobbing with his head down on the thin mattress.

“I just saw you. Last week we were doing our yearly group workout before training camp and now you’re comatose because of how your depression medication mixed with the anesthesia. When Trevor called me to tell me-“

Quinn got too choked up to continue, but he needed to get it out. He didn’t even know if she could hear him; he just needed to say it.

“To tell me you slipped into a coma, I thought he was calling to tell me you died. I thought I was going to have to hear over the phone that you had died and I lost the most important person to me forever. I couldn’t sleep. I know you’ll scold me for that, but I couldn’t. I tried. I just kept waking up from nightmares about life without you.

“You’ve been in my life since I was seven years old. You’ve practically been my sister since day one. I’ve protected you from so much, and I couldn’t stop this from happening. You’ve been through so much, and now you have to go through this, and I won’t be here. Trevor and Jamie are great for you, and they’ll take good care of you, but it won’t be me. It physically can’t be and the thought of that makes me sick.”

Quinn jumped at what happened next. He wasn’t completely sure he didn’t imagine it, that’s how surprised he was.

“Sissy?” he whispered.

This time, Quinn was sure it happened. Y/N’s unconscious form lightly squeezed his hand. Quinn tried to not get his hopes up too high. He knows that movement doesn’t always mean the person will wake up soon, due to the fact that he heavily researched comas the second he was told, but it has to mean something.

“Trevor!” Quinn called out, making sure his voice didn’t portray that it was an emergency.

His tone wasn’t much help, because with the situation at hand, Trevor immediately assumed something was wrong. He ran into the room with his eyes wide and heart racing harder than ever.

“What’s wrong?! What happened?! I don’t hear anything and she looks fine. Well not fine-“

“She squeezed my hand!” Quinn cut him off.

Trevor’s eyes widened at the news. Everyone else overheard the announcement from the hall and came flooding in, as well. Jim told everyone he was getting a nurse to check if it meant something, or if it was a subconscious movement. After all, even years long coma patients can slightly move to external stimuli.

After a few quick trials, it was concluded that she wasn’t squeezing hands as a response, because she would do it at random times, and a few minutes later stopped doing it all together.

It was a false hope.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. He was absolutely defeated.

“Don’t be sorry, Quinny,” Jack sighed. “She was squeezing your hand. She squeezed Trevor’s, and she squeezed Dr. Walsh’s hand. She’s in there. She’s just not awake yet.”

“When did you get so wise?” Quinn teased him.

“Z and I were talking about that this morning,” Jamie said.

“About me being wise?”

“Jimmy here said you were channeling Sissy,” Trevor smiled. “I told him she’d kill him if she knew he called her Sissy.”

“I am seeing a bit of Sissy in you lately,” Jim pointed out to his son.

Jack smiled to himself. It was the biggest compliment he could ever receive, in his opinion.

“It’s a twin thing,” Jack joked.

“Definitely a twin thing,” Luke played along.

— — —

It was getting harder than it was yesterday to sit in a room and listen to the heart monitor beep. The more they looked at her, the more frail and broken she looked. It was taking a toll on everyone and it was only day two.

Jim and Ellen went to get everyone lunch, and Jack decided that everyone needs to shower so they’ll take turns going back to Trevor, Jamie, and Sissy’s house. Jack thought Trevor would put up the biggest fight, but it was actually Quinn.

“I just got here!” Quinn argued.

“And you’re all worked up,” Jack tried to reason with his big brother. “You need to-“

“I need to be with her,” Quinn cut him off firmly. “You all saw her last night. You all got to race here the second you got the call while I was stuck in my house going out of fucking mind and you have the nerve to tell me that I need to leave her after only a few hours to take my third shower in the last twenty four hours?!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just thought-“

“Stop trying to be Sissy!” Quinn yelled.

The energy in the room went still. Everyone was frozen in place. Jack’s eyes might have been wide, but they were full of hurt.

“You’re not Sissy. No one will ever come close to her. She’s lying in a hospital bed, you’re perfectly fine and bossing people around! Well guess what, Jack? I’m not fine! Taking a shower isn’t going to take away from the fact that the person I would take a bullet for is suffering and will be for a long time!”

“You think I’m fine?!” Jack fired back. “I haven’t been fine since Jamie called! I had to tell everyone! I had to call Alex, and Cole, and Luke, mom and dad, and you! I had to make sure Trevor didn’t go catatonic for the entire time Sissy is in the hospital! I had to make sure Luke didn’t fall apart at the seams when he passed by her and Trevor’s room! I’ve been taking care of everybody with no one to help me! I didn’t sleep last night because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her dying in my arms and you think I’m perfectly fine?!”

Jack’s knees started to give out, and if it wasn’t for Cole and Alex catching him and easing him into a chair, he would’ve collapsed on the floor.

“I know she’s your best friend, but she was mine first. I was the one there for her when you left. She kept telling you that she was fine. What she didn’t tell you was that she cried herself to sleep in my bed every night for weeks,” Jack said through tears. “She’s been in my life longer than anyone else’s here. So no, Quinn, I’m not fine. But she won’t be fine if she finds out that everyone important to her fell apart over her, so I’m doing what I can for her.”

“Let’s give the brothers a moment alone with her,” Jamie said. “We can all go to the house to… do things.”

Everyone remained silent as they left, leaving only the three Hughes boys alone. Quinn sighed and took a seat next to Jack.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me, too,” Jack whispered.

“Did she really cry in your room for weeks?” Luke asked as he got up to sit in the third chair next to Jack. All Jack did was nod.

“She didn’t tell me,” Quinn said glumly. He felt like the worst brother in the world.

“She didn’t want to make you feel guilty,” Jack shrugged. “I’m just glad she moved with us when I went. I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened to her.”

“She would’ve popped back up into our lives eventually,” Luke said.

“Yeah, but in what state?” Quinn asked.

“Hopefully better than this one,” Luke answered.

— — —

Tensions had died down once everyone came back and the brothers were handed food and politely demanded to eat by Ellen. Lunch was really dinner, because it was just after five.

Y/N remained the same. The nurses checked vitals, administered pain medication, and whatever else they did while they kicked everyone out the room to give them space to work. Everything they did, she still stayed unconscious, and left the group with the constant reassurance that the delayed emergence therapy was working and she should be waking up “within the next few days.”

After Jack and Quinn’s argument, Quinn made sure to make sure Jack wasn’t falling apart while trying to help everybody. He was prepared to fly to Jersey to be with him, so he felt that he should keep his word and be there for him now. If Jack noticed, he drew no attention to it.

The nursing staff kicked everyone out at eight when normal visitor hours ended as opposed to their late night stay the night before. No one wanted to go, but she was stable, so no one fought too hard. Everyone left to the parking lot, leaving only Trevor and Quinn in the room.

“You can stay-“ they both started speaking at the same time.

“She’s your best-“

“She’s your girlfriend,” Quinn cut Trevor off. “You’re her world. Trust me on that. Just call me first if anything happens, alright?”

“Alright,” Trevor smiled.

There wasn’t much for Trevor to do besides worry until he passed out at some ungodly hour, so he put on The Hunger Games to feel like Y/N was watching it with him. The doctors said that the closer she got to waking up, the more she could potentially be aware of external stimuli, and Trevor was too optimistic to not believe it. So, he put on her favorite movie series and hoped for the best.

Everything was fine the entire duration of the first movie. There was nothing but the sounds of the movie and Y/N’s steady heartbeat monitored on the machine.

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Well passed one in the morning, the once steady beep was blaring at what felt like a mile a minute. Nurses and doctors came flooding in and immediately began shouting words that Trevor didn’t understand. What he did understand was that he was being ordered out, but that didn’t mean he was going to listen. Instead, he remained in the doorway, helplessly watching while the hospital staff tried to get Y/N back to her original state.

The excessive beeping stopped, and Trevor desperately wanted it to return because the sound that took its place made Trevor sick.

Y/N flatlined.

“No!” Trevor wailed and dropped to his knees.

A nurse immediately went towards him and started to push him out of the room in an attempt to calm him down as the doctor in the room pulled out the defibrillators.

“Sir, you’re having a panic attack,” the nurse told him calmly. “I need you to breathe.”

“My girlfriend just died!”

The nurse was right. Trevor was hyperventilating so much that he could no longer deny what was happening to him. His head felt heavy, his ears were ringing, and his chest felt like it was burning.

“I have to call Quinn!” he shouted out. He probably interrupted the nurse, but he was so out of it, he couldn’t tell. “I have to call Quinn, I have to! You have to let me call Quinn!”

“Okay, Trevor, is it?” She continued when he nodded. “We’ll call Quinn, but we need to focus on you right now before you get hurt.”

Trevor continued to fight with her and caused quite the scene in the hallway. The next thing he knew, he was being held down and given a shot. Then it went black.

— — —

Quinn threw up when he hung up the phone.

Sissy flatlined. She died. They barely got her stable in time. His world almost ended.

Alex was the one that found him and got him calmed down enough to talk to him, the only thing was that he didn’t. Quinn could already be a quiet guy, but he had gone silent. Alex couldn’t even get his attention.

“Quinn!” Alex shouted. He grabbed his face in hands and looked directly into his eyes. “Now is not the time to shut down! What happened?! What happened, Quinn?!”

All the commotion brought the attention of the others, but Jack and Luke were the only ones that stepped into the bathroom.

“Q?” Jack asked calmly. “Quinn, what’s wrong? What happened? Is Sissy okay?”

Quinn shook his head.

“Quinn, how much worse can she get from being in a coma?”

Nothing. Jack put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, “HOW MUCH WORSE CAN SHE GET FROM BEING IN A COMA?!”

Ellen pushed everyone out of the way, including her middle child, and stood close to Quinn.

“Give him room!” Ellen shouted, shooing Alex and Jack out of the small bathroom. “Let’s give him some time to breathe before we hound him!”

It took twenty three minutes for Quinn to get to a state of mind where he could actually speak coherent sentences he was in so much shock. Everyone had gone downstairs, Quinn included, and waited. Jack got him water and sat next to him while Ellen comforted him on his other side.

“Quinny, just answer me this— is Sissy okay?” Luke asked. “Just move your head. You don’t have to speak.”

Luke was shaking. Quinn took notice and his big brother mode kicked in.

“She’s stable,” he said.

Everyone let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. The fear of the worst had captivated every single one of them. What else would send Quinn into silence?

“Then… what- what uh… what happened?” Jamie asked awkwardly, terrified for his answer.

“She died,” Quinn said in monotone. He was still in shock.

“No! No, no, no! Quinn, you just said she’s stable!” Jack shouted at him.

“She is. They barely got to her in time,” Quinn said, a little more lively this time. “She died. But she’s stable now.”

Quinn caught his little brother’s eyes— they were clouded by fear. No, fear wasn’t the right word for it. He looked terrified.

Quinn was so focused on Jack that he failed to notice Jamie. In fact, everyone was so focused on Quinn that they failed to notice Jamie. Jamie, who felt like the weight of the sun just landed on his chest. Jamie, who didn’t hear anything past “she died.” Jamie, who was against the wall with his knees pressed to his chest and couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He hadn’t known Y/N for as long as the others, not even close, but he loves her. He loves her just as much as anybody else. She’s one of his best friends, and he doesn’t want to live in a world without her. He lives with her! In the very house they’re in right now. Where he just got the news. And suddenly, he’d rather be anywhere else. Jamie made a break for the door, but Jack caught him and turned him to face him.

“Jimmy! Hey, look at me,” Jack said urgently. His hands were on Jamie’s shoulders to keep him in place. “She’s alive. Sissy is alive. Y/N is alive.”

Jamie leaned backwards and slammed his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and wiped his hands down his face.

“Thank fuck,” he said through tears.

Jack put a comforting hand on his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug, “Yeah. Thank fuck.”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I realise you're HE, but any thoughts on how high school level education should be run/changed/etc? I'd love to know your views!

Oh sure, plenty, but they're not particularly informed lol

Well; Wales is actually massively and fundamentally changing secondary education atm, but we won't be getting students from it until the year after next, I think, so no real comment on effectiveness yet - but it's very interesting. They're getting rid of isolated subjects in favour of broad umbrella areas, as I understand it? So there's now Science and Technology (Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Computing, and all the various DT subjects like Woodwork, Electronics, Cookery, etc), Maths and Numeracy, Humanities (History, Geography, Ethics, Religion), Languages Literacy and Communication, and Health and Wellbeing (actually maybe Cookery comes under this one now? Dunno.) And there's a sixth to do with arts but I can't remember what it's called. But it includes Art, Drama, Media Studies, etc.

And then the idea is that a class will learn about a given topic at a time (I don't know for how long, so let's say six weeks), and this will be taught in each of those six umbrellas but via their own methods. So like... I dunno, let's say the Tudors:

That's fairly straightforward for Humanities, but in addition to giving you the historical facts you'd also explore historic trade routes and natural resources of the time and how they related to the politics (geography), the religious make up of the country and how THAT related to the politics (religion), etc.

Maths and Numeracy might explore how to use statistics to analyse Tudor era population or trade data.

Science and Tech could look at disease outbreaks and virology, or technological advancements and how they worked and get students to build one, or get students to construct a Tudor-era town using computer software

Languages can study plays from the era (Shakespeare), look at linguistic development, or use historical events as talking points to practice using vocab in conversations

Health and Wellbeing can explore stressors and challenges of the average Medieval peasant and how they overcame them, or play some popular Tudor sport or game, or make food to Tudor recipes, etc

The Arts one (god I cannot remember the name) can look at art history of the period, fashions, perform plays, etc

So everyone is still teaching the skills and knowledge of their subject areas, they're just united by one big case study. It apparently allows for far more integrated teaching, too, where two previously discrete subjects can join forces on a project.

All of which seems pretty good, on the whole, but also rife with issues if everyone isn't careful, so we'll see how it shakes out over the next few years.

From my own experiences of school though. Jesus. Something definitely needed to happen, fuck me.

What I should have learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine

How to sew by hand to mend a tear

How to darn a hole

How to hem, dart, take in, and let out clothes

How to sew from a pattern

What I actually learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine on its most basic setting

How to phone in creating a hand puppet out of felt because gluing was easier than sewing

How to badly sew an extremely makeshift and shit bag out of scrap fabric that you in no way want to then use

How to lose all interest in Textiles because it was useless and uninteresting

Like that is a VITAL skillset-imparting subject, and they fucked it, lads, they completely fucked it. Why did they never set us the task of buying a cheap shirt from a charity shop that we then amended in class? That would have been so useful.

Games and PE! Fucking hell! Here's what I should have learned:

How to stretch my body safely to target specific muscle groups, and in particular, how to cultivate a daily stretching routine I enjoyed and wanted to do

How to find a physical activity active enough to get me out of breath that I genuinely enjoyed, so that I wanted to continue it, e.g. salsa dancing or rope climbing or ice skating or hill climbing or assault courses or fucking anything at all

How to build my body up to doing particular activities safely and sustainably

How to find a physical activity to do on wet, cold, rainy days that would still be fun and I would still enjoy

Here's what I actually learned:

Physical activity is always uncomfortable and miserable and sometimes even painful

If you aren't enjoying running around in the wind and rain instead of the indoor gym The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

Wanting to stay warm and dry and comfortable is a punishable choice.

You are only permitted to do physical activity in clothes that make you feel profoundly exposed and uncomfortable (a gym skirt and gym knickers in my school. Cycling shorts got you detention. Don't get me started on jogging bottoms.) Again, if you do not enjoy this, The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

There are only three activity options. If you don't enjoy any of them, physical activity is not for you.

You should be able to Just Do physical exercise, without any training to build you up to it. If you can't and it hurts, this is because you're Bad At PE.

You will only be shown Once

Physical activity is only ever a team sport that you aren't good enough to be willingly picked for

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

And you know what, LET'S round off with Food Technology/Cookery. Because I remember the things I was asked to make in FT. As a little baby Year 7, I still vividly remember two of the things we made.

Angel Delight. Easy, you might say! A simple treat, you might think! Easing the children into food prep, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was healthy eating, and so we were to add fruit to our Angel Delight. Any flavour Angel Delight, any fruit. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have encountered fruit, Tumblrs, but it famously has faintly acidic juice. This will prevent the Angel Delight from setting within the one hour lesson, no matter how well you mixed the pudding, or how quickly you got it into the fridge. It will result in soggy gross lumps of oxidising fruit in sloppy liquid pudding. Lesson learned: fruit makes food worse.

Cake. Easyish, you might say! A little harder than the Angel Delight but good training, you might think! A fairly straightforward process with a child-friendly food at the end, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was still healthy eating, so the teachers made it into an experiment; make four small cakes. One with sugar, one with sweetener, one with apple, and one with carrot. Then taste them and rank them in order. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have ever tried eating sugarless carrot cake, Tumblrs, but I have, and I can tell you categorically that it really puts the "Did you know" into the phrase "Did you know that fructose and sucrose are not actually equivalents of each other in a culinary setting?" It was rancid. It was disgusting. It was vile. It made me hate carrot cake for the next 12 years, in case my mouth had to go through that ordeal again. I'm still highly suspicious of the stuff even now. To (I assume) the surprise of fuck-damned no one, we unanimously put them in the order of sugar, sweetener, apple, carrot. Lesson learned: FRUIT MAKES FOOD WORSE AND CARROTS ARE ACTIVELY DISGUSTING

What possessed them?! No idea. Fucking hell.

Anyway this is getting long and I am still ill-informed. Peace out.

[steddieasitgoes]

Once In A Lifetime

Written for @steddiemicrofic September prompt charm | wc: 548 | rated: G | no cw A/N: Loosely inspired by a tweet, I saw yesterday.

Eddie used to think spending his days laying in bed was a pretty ideal way to live, but that was before he found himself fifteen days into a bed-ridden stay at Hawkins Memorial Hospital after nearly being turned to bat food in a hell dimension. There’s nothing great about this reality. No, it’s just another example of Eddie’s tremendous bad luck.

Though, maybe the universe has decided to cut him some slack because tonight he’s not being woken up by Nurse Patty stabbing his arm with an IV needle or Nurse Jen smacking her cinnamon-flavored gum as she notes his vitals. Instead, he’s jostled awake by his bed lifting and Steve Harrington standing over him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie asks. “Visiting hours are over.”

“Good thing m’not staying long,” Steve says before disappearing into the hallway only to reappear with a wheelchair.

“So you’ve come to be my knight in shining armor and whisk me away in a chariot in the dead of night. Is that what this is?”

Steve gives him that deadpan look he often gives Dustin, and Eddie kinda wants to slap it off his face, but that requires more arm strength than he has, so he resigns to the look.

“Did Dustin not tell you the plan?”

The details of Dustin’s visit this morning are hazy. Probably because the kid showed up an hour into his morphine drip and also because he was rambling about some science-y nerd shit.

“That comet thing is tonight,” Steve says.

“Ah yes,” Eddie says, snapping his fingers with what little strength he possesses. “The “once in a lifetime” one I’d be stupid to miss even though I told him I plan to live to 95 to see the next one.”

“Not to be a dick or anything, but maybe you should focus on making it to 21 first.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. Steve has a point. At the rate he’s been going, he’ll be lucky if he makes it to his next birthday, let alone the next seventy.

“So, what exactly is the plan here, Steve-o? In case you forgot, I’ve been banished to this lovely bedchamber until my insides remember their jobs. And, even if you did get me in that damn chair, there’s no way Patty out there is going to let me leave.”

“She already agreed to let me take you to the parking lot for an hour.”

Eddie stares at Steve in complete bewilderment. “How did you manage that?”

“Turns out the Harrington charm still works on some people,” Steve says. “Now, let’s get you into this chair before Dustin bullies his way inside and ruins this whole thing.”

Thirty minutes, a prayer to a God neither really believes in, and a string of curses later, Eddie finds himself breathing fresh air for the first time in two weeks. The entire Upside Down gang is there, too. Dustin, of course, is in the center, briefing everyone on what to look for as they stare up at the night sky.

As a ball of blazing light passes over them, Eddie can’t help but tear his eyes away from the “once in a lifetime” comet and start at the “once in a lifetime” group of friends he’s now a part of.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The World Food Summit of 1996 approached food security through the principles of ensuring there is enough safe and nutritious food that can be accessed daily to meet healthy dietary needs and food preferences. By definition, this is a desirable and worthy goal. However, in the years since, food security has developed into a paradigm which does not question the underlying power dynamics and the reproduction of material conditions that make food insecurity a permanent feature of the global order. At its core, the food security paradigm deals only with access to food, without challenging the political and economic structures that determine and control access, as well as distribution.  By failing to address the root causes of hunger and famine, the food security paradigm makes it impossible to end hunger globally. Of course, many people worldwide possess food security, but this is restricted to increasingly limited geographic pockets. In terms of the people localised in one area, food vulnerability is influenced and determined by class, race, gender and, of course, citizenship status. Globally, “underdevelopment” and “de-development” lead to widespread food insecurity across areas. Another problem with the food security paradigm is that it is easily co-opted to generate partial answers that pose no threat to the corporate food system, or worse, that even open up new profit opportunities. Accelerated by other crises, the food security paradigm becomes ever more dependent on aid, be it through direct food delivery, cash transfers or small development projects that cannot compete with the food giants and their price-setting powers. In practice, a “science of food security” emerges, one which takes as its focus calories and the output that is compatible with precision agriculture having the aim to increase crop yields and to assist management decisions using high technology sensor and analysis tools. This model tends to be reliant on “Green Revolution” technologies that rely on chemical fertilisers and pesticides and that are tied to colonial projects and corporations, in order to optimise resources in aid response and/or development projects.  In this rationale, food insecurity can be addressed by reaching optimum yields of certain crops that should meet the demand for fats, fibres and protein. All of this is carefully managed and data-driven. Precision farming is advocated by the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA) with the objective of optimising, “agricultural value chains […] critical in advancing food and nutrition sufficiency without increasing the size of land under cultivation.” The framing of food that reduces it only to “optimal input” relegates vital elements of food production and the culture of eating, like territory ownership, taste, heritage, care, well-being and connection as secondary. This reductionist approach has, though, proved useful to corporate agriculture, since it reinforces the case for genetically modified crops (GMOs), more efficient fertilisers, and the standardisation of food production for market purposes. Advocates of plant breeding technologies (including GMOs and hybrid seeds) argue that government overregulation is an obstacle to achieving food security. Overregulation, as the argument goes, denies populations the opportunity to grow crops that have increased nutrient use efficiency and are more resilient to climate shocks. 

[...]

The paradigm of food security is about optimising productivity. It’s true that productivity matters – after all, feeding the world requires enormous quantities of food. But if productivity is approached solely as a technological problem, it reinforces the tendency to fragment the quantitative and qualitative aspects of food production and consumption. On the quantitative side, production for food security is viewed as a challenge of multiplication. Whereas division, that is, distribution of food, is left to logistical planning. This ignores what Raj Patel identified in his influential 2007 book Stuffed and Starved, as the bottleneck of power that concentrates international food distribution among a small set of corporations. This bottleneck excludes the poor and small-scale food producers from decision-making. It also normalises worrying tendencies, such as an overreliance on industrial animal exploitation as a protein source, which has direct health implications, as well as longer term consequences like the proliferation of new viruses, greenhouse gas emissions and inefficient use of water and soil.

28 May 2024

[petermorwood]

So we were in Dublin...

...because @dduane was getting another MRI then a haircut-style-colour.

NB, not both at the same place, multi-tasking has its limits.

Between medical and tonsorial we went to The Ramen Bar for an excellent late lunch: DD had prawn gyoza and Tonkutsu Red (mild)...

...while I had chicken kara-age and Spicy Torishio (hot)

There was just one small problem; the appetisers were correctly assigned but as the mains arrived we didn't notice (probably because we were merrily sharing dumplings and chicken pieces) a small but vital error in who got what.

At least not until I sampled mine and said "For so-called hot, this is pretty unimpressive!" then noticed DD was having rather the opposite response to her so-called mild.

I like spicy food. I like food that fights back. In her case the food was winning.

Once we'd swapped the mains back to their appropriate sides of the table and DD's startled palate cooled down, all was well again, with an extra bonus for the trip.

MRI scan, hairdo AND cleared sinuses.

*****

Memo 1 - we recommend The Ramen Bar, especially for lunch, when prices are lower than at dinner; the menus are otherwise identical and portions are very generous, i.e. fair at dinner and a bargain at lunch.

Memo 2 - Their hot spicing is pretty tingly, though not overwhelming regardless of DD's reaction; spicy is always spicier when you're not expecting it, and doubly so when you're not used to / don't like it.

They have something else, however, which I intend to try For Science. Also for curiosity, though DD reminds me what that proverbially does to cats...

Later for that... :->

[pjmslave]

Major Thaddaeus Scott Barker, PhD was called Scott by the few people that were allowed to use his first name. Almost always he was addressed as Major Barker. He was the administrator of a facility in a barren lifeless desert within the only nation state that had the resources to research what was being researched. Major Barker liked to think of this project as being the next stage of evolution. Not for mankind, but for the soldiers who would defend the freedom of the nation state.

The research was so secret that not even the elected leaders of the nation state were aware of its existence. All document detailing what was being accomplished at the facility stayed at the facility. No reports were filed with those individuals in the chain of command above Major Barker. Even the funds used to run the facility were buried so deep with each and every allocation of defense funds as to obscure them from discovery.

If anyone investigated the facility, they were informed it was a high tech secret weapon development facility. But nobody ever investigated. Nobody cared to know. Regardless, Major Barker filed reports to his superiors on the fictional weapons that were being developed at his facility. All of the reports generated culled information for other weapon development sites. Major Barker only padded them with hundreds of pages of pseudo-science to make the reports unreadable. Nobody even tried to read them.

The facility comprised fifty men and women with no less than one PhD who had been enticed to join the project by offering them a huge stipend in addition to their military pay. Several of the scientific staff had multiple PhDs. Of course, none of these individuals realized they would be so removed from civilization as to make it impossible to spend any money at all.

All fifty had been carefully selected by Major Barker over the years as the project needs grew. They had been given a battery of psychological and ethnics testing to ensure they would actively do what ever was necessary to participate in such advanced research. Their research required the use of human beings.

All fifty required some degree of additional mental conditioning to go from using rats and monkeys in their research to actually using men and women in their research. Every six months or so, ten to fifteen homeless individuals were harvested from various locations so they could be used in the research vital to the nation state’s defense. The fifty scientists had been fully condition to see these men and woman as inferior to them. A drain on the limited resources of their nation state.

These homeless individuals were viewed not as human but as ‘lab rats’ by the scientists. Only three (two women, one man) had objected to the use of human beings as lab rats. They had been removed from the project and placed in confinement. After months of being subjected to heavy brainwashing techniques which had been developed at the facility, all three returned to the project.

After ten years and some six hundred forty-two experiments on individuals, Major Barker had been invited to see the latest breakthrough. Previous research had managed to drain the human subjects of all of their humanity. Next, they succeeded in formatting their lab rats’ brains to obey all commands. Of course, the individual required each and every movement to be commanded. It was not enough to command, ‘eat food.’ Each and every step required to ‘eat food’ had to be commanded. An incredibly tedious and complex undertaking.

Today, Major Barker was to witness a man, who had once been a janitor at the facility, be controlled solely by external means. Lieutenant Ellenor Brooke Evans, PhD had developed an AI bot that could be programmed into a state of the art laptop that would be used to control the janitor. The AI bot would control everything the man did. The janitor had given his name to be one Victor Forbes. Of course, once he was selected as ‘lab rat’ he was given the designation Epsilon Victor Nine, or Victor Nine for short.

Major Barker was proud of Lieutenant Evans’ work. She was one of the three who had to be further encouraged to do what had to be done. Major Barker first saw her next to Victor Nine. She was ensuring all connections were tight. At one point she grabbed the smallish computer attached to Victor Nine’s scalp was secure.

Major Barker took the center seat in the control room. He leaned forward to depress the mic button. “Okay Evans, show me what you have done?”

As Major Barker waited for Lieutenant Evens to arrive into the control room, he marveled at the change in Victor Nine. The lab rat was totally nude except for the computer attached to its head and some other gadget attached to his left forearm. Victor Nine’s skin tone was silver, identical to the rest of the lab rats currently in use.

For just a second, Major Barker focus on the fifteen centimeter cock hanging in the man’s groin. It also was now colored silver. Major Barker’s mouth watered as he wondered if the cock was even functional. “I so could suck on that.” Major Barker thought to himself.

But what so amazed Major Barker was the complete change in Victor Nine. The once scrawny boy of nineteen who had never seen the inside of a gym and might have weighed in the sixty kilogram range had added no less than fifty kilograms of newly formed muscle.

Major Barker’s first question of Evans was, “How did you accomplish the muscles?”

Evan answered the question with another question, “How many push-ups do you want it to do, Sir?”

“Thirty six, in three groups of twelve.”

With that Evans pulled out a computer pad. Her fingers pressed multiple icons. Once completed, she reached over to activate the speaker which picked up the sounds of the room where Victor Nine was located.

Major Barked was amazed as he heard Victor Nine report, “Task downloading.” He was even more impressed as he watched Victor Nine fall to the floor and begin counting the pushups it was doing. “One. Two. Three.” And so forth.

When Victor nine announced the twelfth push up he paused slightly then continued. It began with “Two! Two. Three. Four.” And so forth.

Evans asked, “Would you be wanting any sit ups?”

Major Barker replied, “No. The push up are impressive enough. Return it to a standing position when it completes its current task.”

Evans inputted the necessary command via her computer pad. When Victor Nine returned to a standing position, Evans leaned over the computer panel in the control room. She clicked on the mic and in a commanding voice said, “Attention!”

Victor Nine’s stance stiffened. Evans then commanded, “Salute!” Victor Nine’s right arm performed a perfect salute. Evans then commanded “Not that salute. The REAL salute.”

It happened so fast that Major Barker did not notice Victor Nine’s right arm move to a position across his chest.

“Show allegiance to its superiors!”

Major Barker watched as Victor Nine knelt onto its left knee. It right arm still across its chest. It left hand on the floor. Its head firmly focused on just the floor.

Major Barker asked a simple question, “How?”

Evans then entered into a long monologue of how her team had created an AI Bot to control the lab rat. Then how they had reprogrammed nanobots that were used to drain the lab rats of what minimal humanity that had. Once the nanobots stripped the lab rats of their humanity, their memories, their ability to do anything other than what was commanded, the nanobots repurposed themselves to create multiple pathways in their now worthless brains into what would ultimately be controlled by the small computer that was attached on the left side of their skulls.

Evan’s finished her monologue with, “You see, Sir, the body that was once Victor Nine became just a component of the computer attached to its skull. The AI Bot became Victor Nine. The AI bot fully controls the organic body that was once Victor Nine. Victor Nine has no emotions. Victor Nine has no concept of good. It has no concept of evil. Nothing is taboo anymore. It sole function is to obey the commands that are given to it. If that is killing people who are protesting, then it kills. If that is eating shit, then it feasts on the shit.”

As if on cue, Victor Nine dropped a turd out of its ass. It then let loose a stream of urine. Major Barker gave Evans a disapproving look. He demanded, “Well, can you fix that issue?”

Evans simply replied, “My team is already on it, Sir! But in the interim, watch this!” Evans imputed various commands into her computer pad. Without warning, the door to the room where Victor Nine was house opened. Major Barker watched as another man who was destined to become a “lab rat” stand in the door way. The soon to be lab rat had given his name as Bailey McDonald. He reluctantly entered the room.

Bailey was currently being useful to the project by being a dishwasher in one of the dozens of restaurants the peppered the complex. It was about all the future lab rat could handle. His brain had been literally fried by the use of ecstasy. He was still pink and rosy as any human. He had not received the mind altering nanobots as of yet.

Bailey took a couple of reluctant steps into the room. Then he proclaimed, “Damn! What is that offal smell?” Before Bailey could back out of the room, the door slid shut behind him. Bailey barely noticed. His eyes were completely focused on Victor Nine.

Once again, the action was too fast for Major Barker to follow. The next thing his mind registered was Victor Nine standing over Bailey as Bailey was on the floor having what appeared to be a massive seizure. Major Barker noticed a small silver area on Bailey’s right neck and various streaks of silver running up the right side of his face.

Evans proudly stated, “You see, Sir, not only does the bot obey the commands it is given, but it also forcibly assists new lab rats into becoming like it has become. It only does this to what has been classified as ‘lab rats,’ but the definition of ‘lab rats’ can be altered to include members of the enemy’s military. The enemy combatants can now be easily converted into military assets for us with very little effort.”

Major Barker found himself crossing his legs, right over left. Not exactly a military bearing. But it did hide his growing hard-on. As he was doing so, he asked, “Okay Evans, what exactly do you need?” He paused a moment then continued, “First, can you do something about its cock and balls? And its excrement?”

“Already on it, Sir. If you follow me, Sir, I will show you what I require.”

Major Barker was led to a small conference room where Evans had laid out her proposals. She showed him the arm gauntlet that could be attached to a recharging station so that the nanobots in a soldiers body could be reenergized. Next came a huge collar for the soldier that allowed new nanobots to be slowly and consistently injected into the body of the soldier. She also detailed how the pituitary gland would be coopted to produce massive amount of human growth hormones as well as other hormones that would improve a soldier’s strength and agility.

Evans continued by detailing how the nanobots would receive and distribute all the energy the soldier required. How waste products produced by the soldiers body were to be repurpose back into usable components for its body. The soldiers’ bodies would no longer require a GI system so the GI system would be shut down. Its renal system would be remade as just another focal point where waste was recreated into usable substances for the soldier’s body.

Lastly, Evan detailed the fact that obedience to command would be a driving force in the soldier’s programming. As such, sexual intercourse would no longer be permitted. Two presentation drawings showed first a man and then a woman private area. The next drawing showed how both male and female sexual organs would be ‘co-opted’ to supply a continual orgasmic state in the selected soldiers.

This ‘adaptation’ required all sexual organs to be removed. In order to stimulate the euphoric state that will be maintained in the soldiers, various nanobots would construct the necessary circuitry required to stimulate the nerve ending that had once been in their groins. Over this would lay a silver metallic ‘girdle’ that covered not only their groins but their abdomens as well.

Major Barker inputted a few directives into his own computer pad. By doing so Major Barker assigned seven teams to turn their attention to producing what Lieutenant Evans requested. Without understanding what he had done, Major Barket determined the fate of the occupants of the facility as well as the fate of the citizens of his planet. It may have been an insignificant backwater planet in the outer reaches of the galaxy, but it would play an ever increasing role in the quadrant that had been classified as Alpha by the inhabitants of this backwater planet.

Three months later, Major Baker requested an update from the newly promoted Captain Evans. She escorted him to the surface above the complex. Here they watched as a group of fifteen enhanced soldiers engaged in a battle with three platoons of battle harden non-assimilated soldiers. Over one hundred thirty men against fifteen solider drones. The human soldiers did not have a chance. Their real bullets were deflected by the electronic shield produced by the fifteen enhanced soldiers. One by one the battle hardened human soldiers were defeated by the enhanced soldiers.

One by one the human soldiers were added to the ranks of enhanced soldiers. Major Baker saw that his nation’s security would be maintained. He was more than pleased with what Captain Evans had accomplished.

Eight months later, a man, who fit the description of Major Baker was admitted to a psych ward in a major hospital to the southeast of the complex Major Baker commanded. Except the medical staffed at this hospital were unable to get any information from the man dressed in the uniform of the nation state’s army.

The medical staff watched as the man rocked back and forth screaming, “It’s too late. They’re here. They are here. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. It’s too late. They are here!”

The man was presented multiple questions. He only stopped his hysterical rants when he was asked, “Who is here?”

The man that had once been Major Barker made eye contact with the person questioning him. He then simply said, “The Borg!” He paused for only a few more seconds, then he returned to his hysterical rants, “It’s too late. They’re here. They are here. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. They are here. It’s too late. They are here!”

The medical staff of the hospital were ill prepared to resist the Borg when they attacked the facility. One by one, the medical staff who had been classified as ‘lab rats’ by the AI Bot in charge were assimilated into the growing hive mind of The Collective.

The local reserve national guard was called up to defend the desert state from the attack of this new…this new… The Borg. The soldiers of the reserve unit found that even their newly deployed laser weaponry was no match for this new force. The Borg easily assimilated the the reserve soldiers who had been reclassified as ‘lab rats.’

The president of the nation state called for the deployment of nuclear weapons against this new internal threat. When she called for an update after the order to deploy was issued, she was shown multiple photos of soldiers in their missile bunkers staring mindlessly at nothing.

All she asked was “How?” When a suitable answer was not given, she asked if there was at least one nuclear sub still under her command. She again was shown photo after photo of men and women just staring at nothing. She then deployed what few military assets that were still at her command. She along with the Joint Chiefs watch each individual soldier was easily ‘assimilated’ into The Collective.

Never one to give up hope, she retreated to the bunker underneath the residence of the President. She commanded her Joint Chiefs to do the same underneath their own fortress across the river from her residence. She watched in horror as the Admiral of her Navy shot his brains out. Then she watched as each and every one in the bunker were ‘assimilated.’

Even with this, she issued commands to military units that no longer existed. She maintained the fight even if it was on paper until the soldiers invaded her own bunker. When it was evident, she would fail in all her efforts, she reached for the gun on the table before her. She had just raised it to her temple when a soldier grabbed her hair and injected her right neck with nanobots. She sank to the floor.

Thousands of voices filled her mind. Welcoming her to The Collective. She felt euphoric to be part of something greater than herself. She gave all her secrets to the Collective. The Collective knew all she knew. Not only the defenses of her own nation state, but the defenses of the nation states that comprised the organization to which her nation state belonged.

Her presidential aid, Robert Alton Wendell the Third, also fell to the soldiers of The Collective. The man that had once demanded he be call Robert or Mr. Wendell became Thirty-Fourth of Forty. He tried to resist. He wanted to resist. He could not resist the siren voices of The Collective. Thirty-Fourth of Forty was easily led away to it destiny as a drone in The Collective. He was assisted to a military transport provided by the newly assimilated Second Marine Assault Amphibian Battalion. He was beyond resistance. The euphoria that the injected nanobots produced in his weak body ensured his full cooperation.

Thirty-Fourth of Forty of Unimatrix One Nine Six Three followed its instruction once it had reach the newly constructed assimilation complex at a former hospital named after the man who had ensured his country’s independence. What little remained of Mr. Wendell observed the transformation of all those individuals that were in the Presidential bunker.

Mr. Wendell observed limbs being removed from his colleagues. Mr. Wendell observed the placement of new mechanical limbs. Mr. Wendell also observed the castration of men with whom he had served. Every time he witnessed a limb amputated. A penectomy performed. A castration inflicted. New control devices attached to someone that had formally been a valued colleague. His body would be flooded with euphoria.

By the time that that he placed himself on the assimilation table he welcomed the alterations of his body. He presented his right arm forward. On his right arm was placed a new mechanical limb. His right eye was replaced with a new visual unit. He could now see an enhanced spectrum of light. His right ear was replaced with a could detect wave forms of sound far below his former threshold of sound and detect sounds that barely would have registered to his former pathetic brain.

His sexual organs were removed or transformed. His muscles were enhance. When his assimilation was completed, he welcomed his designations of Thirty-Fourth of Forty Primary Assimilator of Unimatrix One Nine Six Three.

It was dispatched to the hordes of “lab rats” who have yet to be assimilated. The Collective to which it belongs selected a “lab rat” at random. That “lab rat” would be enhance. Augmented. Enslaved. One of the many that were the one.

Their efforts expanded north and south. East and west until no continent was untouched. Thirty-Fourth of Forty was transported to where it was required. It assimilated thousands of “lab rats.” With each “lab rat” assimilated, it received a flood of euphoric producing endorphins. Robert Alton Wendell the Third finally accepted defeat and ceased all resistance.

Deep in an underground bunker that was the origin of The Collective, First of Three, formally Captain Ellenor Brooke Evans, PhD, with the assistance of the team at the once top secret facility, began to slowly piece together all the research that was available from various research lab. First of Three laid out the necessary plans in order to construct the first ‘faster than light’ warp drive starship. First of Three cracked the light barrier easily. Only the passengers of the warp vehicle did not survive. They had been crushed against the walls of the ship at it accelerated towards light speed. It was a small price to pay for the advancement of The Collective.

Ninth of Nine, formerly Major Thaddaeus Scott Barker, PhD, combined the massive data on inertia dampeners to provide First of Three the break through it required. Within five circumnavigations of their backwater planet around its star, a warp three space craft had been developed. It was in the shape of a perfect cube. It was manned by sixteen million seven hundred seventy-seven thousand two hundred sixteen drones. All with one mission: assimilate the lab rats!

Three circumnavigations around the star where they had originated, Thirty-Fourth of Forty Primary Assimilator of Unimatrix One Nine Six Three, exited the interstellar space craft to begin the assimilation of a new world. It greeted the delegation sent to ‘welcome’ it to their humble planet. Twenty-four ‘hand shakes’ later and the entire ‘welcome’ delegation had been brought under the control of Thirty-Fourth of Forty.

In an unplanned departure from protocol, Thirty-Fourth of Forty was introduced to the leader of the military who protected the Leader of the largest dictatorship on the planet. When Thirty-Fourth of Forty was introduced to the Leader, it saluted the Leader in the manner that was required: hand across its chest, then its arm raised forty-five degrees exactly directly in front of it.

This planet had three sexes, not two. Those who would equate to male or female had been classified as inferior. As such they were subjugated by the third sex which were classified as the Superior Sex. Upaemien The Rejuvenator was a member of this third sex. It ruled with an iron will. It sent any and all who objected to its rule to the various work camps or death camps where they were literally worked or gassed to death.

By the time Thirty-Fourth of Forty was presented to Upaemien The Rejuvenator six thousand, four hundred sixty-two members of its government had already been brought under the control of The Hive Mind.

Nine of Twelve and Three of Five had been sent to the other two dictatorships. They also brought into their control the members of those governments and members of the military guard who protected the leaders of those nation states.

By the time the primary star rose over the eastern most provinces under the domain of Upaemien The Rejuvenator six million nine hundred forty six thousand seven hundred forty-two citizens of the planet had been brought under the direct control of The Hive Mind including Upaemien The Rejuvenator, Saelazar The Risen, and Umaeyor The Soulreaper.

Assimilation centers had also been constructed in thirty-nine locations. Within twenty-two rotations of the planet four billion six hundred forty-two million nine hundred fourteen thousand one hundred sixteen citizens were added to The Hive Mind. The subjugation of the planet was accomplished.

Two billion two hundred nineteen thousand nine hundred twenty-one citizens of the planet were sent to the disintegration chambers located within they assimilation centers. Their brains were resistant to assimilation. It was necessary for The Collective to eliminate them.

The Cube which had been dispatched to this star system was then dispatched to the next star system that showed a potential for life. New cubes were being constructed in the prime solar system as well as the newly assimilated solar system. These cubes would be dispatched to other star systems.

Individual by individual, group by group, nation by nation, planet by planet, The Borg conquered all. The Borg began to assimilate new scientific knowledge rather than spend resources on scientific development. With each planet assimilated or even each ship assimilated the knowledge base of The Borg increased.

Within one thousand circumnavigations of the planet around the star where The Borg had originated, The Borg had started their conquest of the Beta and Gamma Quadrants which were adjacent to the quadrant of space the contained their Primary star system. Each and every star system assimilated where unable to resist The Borg. They were unstoppable.

Until…until…they encountered a star system that managed to reject them. A story for another time. until then, “We are the Borg. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to us. You will be adapted to serve us. Lower your defenses, surrender your selves to us. You will be rewarded as you become one with us.”

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 14

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+   Word Count: 16k   Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Hurt/comfort, family planning, mentions of sex toys, lingerie, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Jack’s condition upon waking up in Ginger’s lab has some unexpected consequences. A meeting with Champ goes a little differently than expected. And Tex and Sophia’s wedding leads to something we all should have seen coming. Notes: We’re in the home stretch now, folx! One more chapter and an epilogue before we’re jetting off to the next soulmate story. This rollercoaster with Jack and Sugar has been quite the ride and I can’t begin to say how much I’ve loved having all of you along for it. 🧡🧡✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Hours tick by at a snail's pace. Diana delivers dinner from the restaurant with a Get Well card signed by your staff who all think that it's you still under the weather, and not Jack fighting for his life in a science fiction machine. There's food for you, Tex, and Ginger there but you don't have the stomach for it. You can't seem to do anything but stare as Jack sleeps the hours away, exhausted from crying until there are no more tears left to shed. He has to wake up. He has to.

Six hours pass, then seven. Longer than your own time in the chamber. Hour eight arrives and Jack’s vitals change slightly. The tiniest twitch of his finger, lifting and flexing off the bed. Eyes fluttering slightly. Jack is starting to stir.

“Ginger! Ginger, he’s waking up!” Bolting up out of your chair, you nearly jump forward to get your hands on the pod but Tex holds you back. No good can come from interrupting Jack’s healing, even if he understands how anxious you are.

It’s not an instantaneous thing, waking up from the healing coma he had been in. His injuries were more severe than yours had been, plus his body needed to heal from the trauma of nearly dying several times. He shifts slightly, frowning with his eyes closed as Ginger comes over and punches several commands on the front of the chamber.

“It’s going to be slow,” she warns you, not turning around as she watches Jack’s face start to react to regular stimuli. “You remember how groggy you were?”

“Right.” It takes more of Tex’s strength to hold you back than he expected, but you’re nodding and practically going to pull him over. “I—I just— he’s waking up!”

She bites her lip, remembering the last time that Jack had woken up from a serious injury. She wonders if he will remember you, remember himself. If this will make the situation between you worse. “He’s waking up.” She murmurs quietly.

The monitors whir to life with all manner of sounds and readings and the quiet fear that Jack will be different again gnaws at you. If it had happened once, it might happen again. The door to the chamber clicks and there is a quiet hiss as the pressure equalizes inside. Sounding like something from a science fiction movie before it slowly opens up. The monitor shuts off and for a second the entire room is quiet as everyone instinctively leans in to watch what Jack will do. Tex braces himself, holding back from you and Ginger on purpose – he’s not a medical professional by any means and his face isn’t going to bring Jack’s memories back if they’ve slipped, so all he can do is watch and wait.

When his eyes pop open, they are wide, taking in the scene of two women leaning over him. Watching both of them jump back slightly and he focuses on the one in the glasses, just because she is closer. Swinging up to sit, he leaps to his feet with a smirk on his face. “Hello gorgeous.” He drawls, stepping forward with a determined hitch in his step. “How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” He drawls out. “I’ve got a six pack on ice and my roomie’s out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, darlin’.” Every other word is punctuated by a step forward. The gait of a man on the prowl as Ginger backs up.

She expected this. She did. And it’s good to see that Jack’s reaction to waking up is exactly the same as always. Except this time, there is no need for the photograph in her coat pocket. Ginger clears her throat, masking her amusement, and puts one hand on your shoulder to redirect his attention to you. “Barking up the wrong tree, cowboy,” she tells him, nudging you in front of her. “Try again.”

The confusion on Jack’s face flashes as he is redirected but he smirks and strides towards you. “Hello sugar.” His voice drops to the same sugary seductiveness he had used on Ginger, but then he freezes. Cylinders seem to fire and he straightens slightly, the lazy, uncaring posture abandoned and his eyes start to clear. “Sugar.” He breathes, more reverently this time, the nickname having the same meaning as it has since he’s bestowed it on you. “I– I was on a mission.”

“You were, love.” It takes every ounce of self-control you have not to pounce on him - not to throw your arms around him and pull him against you and never let go again. Your hands flex with it and your whole body seems to shake with the need to touch him. “Y—you got hurt…Sophia brought you back home.”

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to remember but it’s all hazy. Just slipping from his grasp like a wisp of smoke. He grunts, eyes finding yours again. “You’re here.”

“I was here when they brought you in.” You remember being a bit fuzzy when you were healed here but you hadn’t been nearly as hurt as Jack, so you try not to be scared that he seems so disoriented. Instead you reach out, gently touching his fingertips with yours. “I’m right here, Jack. You’re gonna be okay.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Jack rasps out, shaking his head. “You– you’re pregnant.” He coughs, wincing at the small ache in his newly mended side. The skin is still tender. “You need– rest.”

“I’m not.” It actually breaks your heart to say, now that you’ve sat with the reality for long enough, and seeing how it pains Jack just makes that ache deepen. “I was wrong. I’m not. Ginger checked, I promise.”

“You’re not?” He shakes his head, unsure if he’s heard you correctly or not. His head hurts, pounding and it feels like the blood is rushing his ears. Ginger had said the more often you got into the chamber, the worse the recovery would be. She’s right about that. “It’s okay–” he promises, thinking that you’re because you’re scared. “I–I don’t care if it’s mine.” He takes your hand fully, lacing his fingers with yours. “It’s your baby, a part of you, and I’m– I’m going to be there for you, for them.”

“Jack, I’m not pregnant.” Holding his hand tightly, you step closer and put your other hand to his face to cup his cheek. “It was just stress and the chamber fucking with my body after the kidnapping. Ginger can show you my scans if you don’t believe me.”

Relief and sadness wash over him in nearly equal measure. Relief because he selfishly wants you to have his baby. Not someone else’s. Sadness because he had realized after talking to Champ, he is ready to be a father. Or at least prepare to be a father again. He closes his eyes and nods, absorbing the information and covering your hand with his own.

“You need rest, love.” Sure he popped out of that chamber like a baseball shooting out of a pitching machine, but he looks…worn. You’d almost call it sad, but you brush that thought off and glance at Astrid. “Maybe Ging will let me take you home?”

“Home.” His eyes open and they slide over to Ginger. “Can I go home?” He asks quietly, not feeling exactly up to racing off on another mission just yet. Maybe he is getting old.

“I want to get a clean set of vitals, and then yes.” She nods, looking at you seriously. “You will call me the second anything about his condition changes, and you will bring him in tomorrow morning so I can give him a once over. He always tries to skip them but they’re important.”

“Absolutely,” you agree immediately, wanting Jack to be able to come home so you can take care of him. The chamber will have had some kind of effect on him that you can’t place yet, and you know you need to let him take it easy, but the idea of bringing him home seems desperately important right now.

Jack lets Ginger lead him away, checking him over as she frowns. “Am I gunna live?” He jokes weakly.

“Fortunately for the woman who hasn’t left your side for the last eight and a half hours? Yes.” Ginger pauses her examination to look up at him. “But if you take another bad hit in a mission? Between you and me, Jack, not even I might be able to bring you back next time.”

“So you’re tellin’ me it might be time to hang up my whip?” He asks seriously, aware that an agent past his prime might be more of a liability than an asset in the field.

"I'm saying you should sit down with Champ." Her lips are pursed, not enjoying having to deliver that kind of news. Not ever. "Intelligence gathering and tails might be more...appropriate choices for you at this point." Ginger sighs, pinching her eyes shut before she looks her friend in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack. But you've been on the brink of death three times now. That takes its toll."

Jack looks over at you, watching as you stare at him as if you could blink and he will disappear. “Haven’t had much beyond the job to live for in a long time.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t think a third soulmate is in the cards for her. And I ain’t gunna make her live without one.”

"Sit down with Champ." Ginger urges again, her voice dropping to match his. "There's a lot of valuable work you can do for this agency without being a field agent." There had never been a moment she had known Jack that Ginger ever believed that he would leave this life any other way but on a mission, but his eyes are crystal clear with the decision.

“I will.” Jack winces again and shakes his head. “But I’ll do that tomorrow. She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

"Go home. Let her dote on you. She's been worried sick since she came to me yesterday morning for a test." She shrugs with a sigh. "Since before that, from what Gabi said."

“I’ll let her dote.” Jack promises, nodding. That’s what had been bothering you, and he feels guilty for leaving and not talking to you.

"He's all yours." Ginger tells you with a bright smile. It's not her place to tell you any of what Jack is considering, or her medical opinion. But she's damn glad that Jack had a reason to fight. Without it, he might have gone out on that mission the way she always figured he would. "Don't let him do much of anything," she warns, then smirks. "Including sex. I'm telling you both, he needs forty-eight hours of rest before any exertion."

Jack pouts but it’s purely for show. Right now he’s not even sure if he could get it up, he’s feeling so out of sorts. The initial burst of energy has been quickly depleted.

"Let's go home, love." Having him released is more than you ever would have gotten in a regular hospital – you would be sitting at his bedside for a week or more. As it is, you put your arms around him and feel him sag a little, which you don't like at all. "We can curl up and nap if you want, or I can make you something to eat? Or we can just turn on a movie. Whatever you want. I'm all yours."

“I just–” Jack frowns, realizing he’s not even wearing his shirt but the scrubs they put on you when you have to have your clothes removed. “Damn, I liked that jacket too.” He huffs, knowing it must have been cut off of him.

"I can grab you something from your office?" Tequila offers, having been sitting quietly during the commotion of Jack's revival. He hadn't left your side while you waited for your soulmate to wake up, and now he just wanted to make sure that his best friend was well enough to get home before he went and reported to Champ.

“I– no, I don’t think so?” Jack frowns and shakes his head quietly. His bag was on the Statesman jet. Wherever that currently was.

"I had them take your bag back to the house," the younger man offers, knowing that an agent and his go-bag were often separated when medical emergencies happened. Frankly, the fact that Jack survived is something of a miracle. It was touch and go for far too long. "You guys go home. I'll call later to see how you're feeling, okay?"

“Thanks.” Jack reaches out and shakes Tequila’s hand. “Go home and take care of your soulmate. I think I worried her.”

“You worried all of us.” And he’ll be damned if he’s going to sugar coat that at all. Either way, Tex gives you a tight hug and waves to Ginger on his way out of the lab. He’s already texted Sophia that Jack is awake, but she’ll want a full update.

Jack turns towards you, an apology in his eyes. He’s made things hard for you and tiredness in your eyes is his fault.

“C’mon, baby.” All you care about right now is that he’s safe, and that means not letting him out of your sight for at least a few days. If you have your way he’ll be sitting in your office when you go back to work so you know he’s okay. You hold out your hand to him, gratefully sighing when he takes it and feels solid in your grasp to head for the elevator.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Jack murmurs quietly. “Didn’t think he’d get me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” For all you know the entire incident is classified and you just have to sit on the knowledge that he was in danger, but you step into the barrel-shaped elevator together and fortunately find yourselves alone again.

Jack hesitates, not because it’s classified, it’s not. But he knows as soon as he tells you, you’re gunna blame yourself and he doesn’t want that. Ultimately the blame rests on him alone.

“If you can’t, I understand.” His hand in yours flexes and you look at him curiously, biting your lip for a second before exhaling slowly. “If there’s…some other reason you don’t want to tell me…like you had to kiss Sophia for the mission and didn’t see the guy come up on you or something like that…work is work, love. I promise I won’t be upset.”

“I didn’t kiss Sophia.” Jack sighs, knowing he needs to be honest with you. “I just need you to tell me about what has been going on with you, okay?” He asks, relieved when you nod. “Sugar, I just– I was distracted. That’s why I got hurt.”

It’s your fault. The first thought in your head when he tells you it was a distraction is that if you were the distraction then you are at fault. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur, looking down at your joined hands like he ought to be tearing away from you.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Jack squeezes your hand and pulls you close. “It’s not your fault. I should have been thinkin’ about the mission. Not about somethin’ I couldn’t do anything about.”

“I should have called you the second I thought I was pregnant,” you admit quietly, listening to Jack’s heart beat with your head on his chest. “I panicked.”

“I did too.” Jack confesses quietly. “That's why I had to leave early last night.”

“Diana told me about Bobby.” This elevator ride seems to be for letting all of your secrets out, but if that’s what it needs to be then you’ll take it. “And how you went over last night. Jack, I…I was convinced you would leave me if it was anyone else’s. That’s why I got so scared. And then I realized that I don’t even know if you want to have kids…after what happened to your son.”

“I didn’t want kids.” Jack admits. “Not until the moment I figured – wrongly – that you were pregnant.”

“So…” Pulling back to look into his eyes, the doors open as soon as you’re about to open your mouth again and you stifle when you see Agent Rye waiting to enter on the ground floor. “Let’s get home,” you murmur, knowing you have a lot to talk about.

Your car isn’t here, but Jack’s Bronco is sitting in the parking lot. A testimony to just how out of sorts Jack feels is evident when he doesn’t try to get behind the wheel. Tucking him into the passenger side only takes a second, and you climb behind the wheel to make the five minute drive home. "Are you tired, honey?" He seems exhausted, but you don't know how he's feeling emotionally. Whether or not he wants to finish the conversation you were having so he can quiet his mind to actually rest. Or if he's too damn tired for it to even matter.

“Yes and no.” Jack just wants to touch you. To hold you and know that he didn’t die. That you aren’t leaving him. He had been worried you would, you’re an honorable woman and you might have thought it was best if you left if you had been pregnant. “I just– I want to lay down with you.”

"How about we cuddle up in bed and we can drift off whenever we feel like?" You reach for his hand as you drive, lacing your fingers together and holding onto him even as you rest your hand back on the gear shift. "We can keep talking if you want to, or just hang on to each other." It's enough that he's here. That Sophia brought him home to you and Astrid fixed him up, and that you can take him home to crawl into bed together. That's more than you had feared you would have even just a few hours ago.

“That sounds good, sugar.” Jack still feels off kilter, but he squeezes your hand. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

"I'm sorry I worried you." The two of you had been pretty far off base these last few days, which you haven't been in a while. That's the kind of thing that makes your stomach churn when you think about it and you don't like it one bit.

“I should have talked to you instead of trying to figure out how to fix things.” Jack can admit he was wrong, especially when all it took was a simple conversation. He could have gone with you to Ginger’s test and the thing put behind the both of you before he ever was on the mission.

"I should have told you why I was upset instead of being distant." The breathy chuckle that comes out of you is rueful, and you look over at him as you turn the Bronco into your driveway. "I think I know what we're talking about in our next therapy appointment."

“At least it will be some new form of miscommunication.” Jack jokes awkwardly.

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not." You cut the engine and lift Jack's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Let's keep this going, though. Honesty is...it's scary, but we usually do okay with it."

“I don’t want to risk losing you again.” Jack nods, sighing softly. “Let’s– let’s go inside.”

Neither of you bother to stop on the ground floor, you only take a three second detour for glasses of water to bring upstairs in case Jack gets thirsty and then you’re behind the safety of your closed bedroom door. “You’re not going to lose me,” you promise him, setting the glasses down so you can take his hands. “I was afraid to lose you. That…that if the baby wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t want either of us.”

“I was angry.” Jack won’t deny that. “But I was angry at myself. Hurt because of my own fucking stubborn pride and I–” he shrugs and closes his eyes. “Terrified because for a split second, I imagined what losing you and another baby – mine or not – would do to me.”

“I—” You blow out a breath, reminding yourself that you were the one counseling honesty just a few minutes ago. “I wasn’t going to keep it,” you admit quietly, eyes turning down to the carpet just so you don’t have to see if he reacts badly. “If it wasn’t yours. I asked Astrid if she could find out early enough.”

“Would you have told me?” Jack frowns, understanding that it would be your choice but he hopes that it wouldn’t be to hide something like that from him.

“You?” With a sigh, you nod your head. “Yes. But I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone else.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to make that choice.” Even as bone-deep exhausted as he suddenly is, Jack picks up your hand and kisses it. “I need to shower. Hate how that damn machine makes me feel.”

“Do you want me to come with you, or do you want me to warm up the bed?” Sure Astrid said no sex, but that isn’t what you’re angling for. You just want the closeness and the intimacy of being beside him. You’re still skittish about letting him out of your sight.

Jack knows exactly how you feel right now. He can read it in your eyes and he remembers the need to have you with him. That if he took his eyes off of you, you would disappear. He’s sure that you are feeling the same. “Come with me, sugar?”

Pure relief relaxes your shoulders and you nod, following him into the bathroom to toss your lived-in pajamas into the laundry basket. The hospital-style scrubs that he had been put into after his clothes were cut away would just be thrown out, as disposability was a virtue of those particular items.

Jack looks back at you and then gestures. “Bath or shower?” A shower would be quicker, but he doesn’t know how you are feeling about things right now. It might be better for you to soak.

An argument could be made for either one, but crawling into bed with him and holding him in your arms feels like the right thing for right now. Plus, there’s the other thing. “Shower?” You smile a little guiltily. “If I have you naked in the bath I can’t guarantee I’ll behave myself and Astrid said no sex.”

“Shower.” Jack doesn’t want to embarrass himself by not even being able to get it up, and he doesn’t know if he could right now. “That sounds good, sugar.”

It’s just a few minutes – long enough to clean both of you up and get the blood splatter out of Jack’s hair. Whatever happened, it was far more brutal than what you had first imagined when Diana showed up at your door last night.

Jack lets you wash him, feeling a little embarrassed by how much he enjoys it. Or simply not having to do it himself. He climbs out of the shower and huffs when you dry him off, not even bothering to dress before he shuffles to the bedroom. Falling into bed is easy. You just climb under the covers and let him curl up against you, wrapping your arms around him and relishing the solid bulk pressed against your body. He’s here. He’s home. He’s alive.

“What did Ginger say to you?” You ask quietly, once you’re both settled. “While she was discharging you?”

Jack sighs, knowing that he can't hide this from you, not when it would affect you. "That I need to talk to Champ."

“About what? The accident?” Of course he needs to talk to Champ. That’s his boss and his friend. You can’t imagine why he wouldn’t, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

"She said that she doesn't know if she can pull me back the next time." Jack whispers softly. "It's the third time."

No one’s heart should be capable of breaking so many times in so few days, but you can feel yours crack again at the resignation in his voice. The fact that he already has broken again. “As in…if this happens again…that might be…it?”

"Ye–yeah." Jack sighs again. "I'm gunna talk to Champ. Tell 'em I want out of the field. I'm sorry, sugar. I should have– I should have just accepted that I didn't need to be in the field anymore."

“Need?” His choice of words makes your forehead pinch that much more, but you graze one hand over his bare back soothingly. “It’s your job, love. A job that you’ve been extremely successful at, from everything I’ve heard.”

"I needed the job before you." Jack explains softly. "I needed a high risk job that took me away from the pain, my own fucking thoughts. And I realized about two seconds after I got on the mission that I didn't want to be there."

“You don’t…want to be an agent anymore?” The idea is practically unfathomable to you, but it’s Jack’s life and his decision. What he decides to make of things is entirely up to him. All you can do is support him, though you have no idea through what.

"I don't want to leave you without a soulmate, or a widow." Jack is adamant about that. "Maybe I could go into the field if needed every now and again, but–" His arms tighten around you. "I want a future with you and I won't give that up for the thrill of a mission."

“I love you so much.” Mirroring him, your arms hold him that much closer and you bury your face in his damp hair to just breathe in the solid state of him all around you. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. I just…I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

"Only regret I will have is if I hurt you again, sugar." Jack murmurs quietly. "I think I want to just train agents and settle down."

“Settle down, huh?” You can see Jack as a trainer. He had bitched about being stuck with the recruits but every day you’d see him come home from work satisfied with what they’d done and ready with new ideas. He hadn’t been willing to admit that he enjoyed it. At least not until now. “Are you telling me this house might get a little more crowded?” The subject of children has been breached by the last few days and it’s not the kind of thing you want to pretend didn’t happen. As much as you had been terrified to lose Jack, the idea of having a baby with him had made you feel so hopeful.

"If that's something you wanted, sugar." Jack's brow furrows and he smiles when your thumb rubs it to smooth it out. "I– I can't deny that I won't be worried. I'll probably hover like a nervous nelly."

“Would your worry outweigh any happiness it might bring you?” That’s one thing that you never would have even thought of before him - that the amount of worry your soulmate might have over you being pregnant or having a young child might be far greater than the joy of having a family.

"Before yesterday I would have said yes." Jack tells you honestly. "But– I just– I can't explain it. I was terrified and happy, sad and eager all at the same time."

“Things can change in the blink of an eye,” you remind him, that same gentle worry in your voice. “Second soulmates and second chances…it’s all a lot of things you didn’t think you’d have again. But I…I’m glad that you want to build a life, love. I would have understood if you never wanted to be a parent again. But I— while Ginger had me under the scanner, I just kept thinking…if it was yours, I would have been over the moon.”

Emotions stick in his throat, making him have to swallow as he nods. He would have been happy about that too. "I– I would have come out of the field then, too." He promises, knowing that missions are tough on a soulmate, especially hard if they are pregnant.

“Can I ask you something?” You were never brave enough to bring it up before, not wanting to upset him, but the proverbial can of worms has already been dumped everywhere anyway. You may as well try.

“Anything, sugar.” Jack’s eyes are closed and his fingers brush your bare back encouragingly.

“I wondered, that’s all.” As comforting as you’re trying to be, you've also made yourself quite nervous. “If…you had ever picked a name for your son?”

"We had." Jack murmurs softly. "She was due in less than seven weeks when they were...killed." He knows you want to know what the name is. "We had decided on Timothy, Timothy Charles. Charles was my daddy's name."

“If you still want to honor him if we have a boy, we can absolutely do that.” You promise him, blinking back some water that is rising behind your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want to accidentally suggest a name to you one day and have it be the one you had already picked out. That’s all.”

"You are thoughtful, sugar." He murmurs quietly, opening his eyes to stare into yours. "I'm grateful that you understand." The happiness and joy of choosing names is more bittersweet than it had been before. Smiling softly as he remembers how Abigail had worried over it for weeks until they decided.

“When my sister and her husband were picking out names for their kids it was a whole chaotic thing.” At times it had seemed to be even more stressful for Eliza than carrying the babies themselves, which seemed crazy. But now you look at it and it doesn’t seem odd at all – even just two days of thinking about it made you realize that was a whole entire person who was going to have that name. That’s an enormous responsibility. “Whatever changes come, we’ll manage. You’ll talk to Champ about coming out of the field, I’ll keep my head down at the restaurant and really get things going. When you’re ready to talk about trying for a baby, then we’ll take that step as well.”

Jack bites his lip, nodding and then he sighs softly. "Um, sugar?" He ventures. He knows you are tired, but the need to eat something has hit him out of nowhere and it feels like his stomach is about to eat itself through to his spine. "I'm going to go fix myself a sandwich."

“Okay…” It’s not that it’s unusual to snack or anything like that, but you frown for a second. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Like actually cook something?”

"You're tired." Jack protests, although the thought of your food has him nearly drooling. Especially your take on shrimp and grits. "I can live with a sandwich."

“How about I make a big dinner tonight?” It’s a compromise, and you tend to be good at those. “Have a sandwich now and we’ll take a nap. And then tonight I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner and tell you about the good parts of New York.”

"That sounds good." Jack nods but he doesn't make any more to get out of the bed. He wants to, but he just doesn't.

“Less hungry than you thought?” When he doesn’t move, you shift in bed and give him a once over to make sure everything is okay.

"Just...slow." Jack draws, sending you a slow grin and blinking just as slow.

“I don’t think Ginger wants you moving too fast anyway.” As long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters to you. Jack’s safety is paramount.

Eventually, Jack pulls back, slowly unwinding his arms from around you. He wouldn't do it at all, but he is hungry and he needs to get something in his stomach. "You gunna come with me, or stay here?"

“I’ll come with you.” As tired as you are, it’s much easier for you to pop out of bed and throw on your bathrobe to wander after him. And you’re not one to say no to a snack.

Jack doesn't bother with clothes, just striding downstairs in the buff, albeit slower than he normally moves. Moving to the fridge and opening it up. He knows you keep all kinds of goodies in the fridge now.

“What are you thinking?” Normally there’s a container of crawfish salad in your fridge at all times but Jack seems to have demolished the last one. “Something small or something filling?”

“I don’t know.” He admits as he pokes around the fridge. “I had thought of shrimp and grits, and then the crawfish salad but I ate that for dinner while you were gone.”

"I can make shrimp and grits for dinner if you want." It's a little more involved than just a sandwich, especially the way you make it, but you pull out an airtight container of roasted chicken and hold it up with a grin. "Waldorf chicken salad sandwich?" It was one of the things that didn't end up on the Rabbit Hole menu, but Jack had loved. Roast chicken salad with tarragon, grapes, toasted walnuts, and sliced celery is fresh but filling.

Jack groans and nods happily. “Yes, that sounds amazing.” He wants to sit down but he moves towards the bread bin. “Sourdough or everything?” He asks, his eyes rolling back at the thought of the chicken salad on an everything bagel.

"You know I believe chicken salad belongs on a bagel." To date, Jack seems to be the one person in the world who believes that as much as you do, and had accordingly taken you to what he considered the best bagel place in Louisville for breakfast one morning soon after you had moved in.

“Everything it is.” Jack pulls out the fresh bagels and moves over to the toaster to twist them open and toast them to perfection.

He makes an obscene noise when you shove a container of cookies aside on the counter to make room for your cutting board and you smile at him, feeling more worry slide away as you see your Jack shine through after his accident. "Appetite out of nowhere, huh?" You tease gently. "You sure Ginger's machine didn't make you pregnant this time?"

“Isn’t there a movie about that?” Jack asks with a grin as he snags a red velvet cookie with cream cheese chips. “Mr. Mom, or something? I might be pregnant.”

"Junior." The man has been through a near-death experience, so you just push the cookies over to him and let him enjoy while you chop things up for the chicken salad. It does, though, make you think. And you look over at him with curiosity. "Jack Junior, yay or nay?"

"Would you want a Junior?" Jack chomps down on half the cookie and looks at you curiously. "That was shot down quickly the first time, so I get that some people don't like it."

"I dunno, I kinda like it." You've always been into the idea of honoring family members with name choice. A lot of cultures take it very seriously and you find it to be a really sweet way of saying that someone is important to you. "Jack Charles has a ring to it. For you and your father? It's just a thought."

“Jackson.” Jack mumbles quietly, stuffing the rest of his cookie into his mouth.

"Jackson?" It doesn't quite register at first, but about five full seconds later you put your knife down and tilt your head at him. "Do you mean to tell me we're engaged to be married and I didn't know your real first name?"

“Never went by it.” Jack winces and sends you a small grin. “Jackson Wyatt Daniels.” He’s never gone by anything but Jack, never even really thinks about his real name.

"That is the most cowboy-ass stupidly sexy name I've ever heard." You nearly burst out laughing at your own reaction, but you swear if Jack was feeling up to it you'd be leaning over this kitchen counter right the hell now. For some reason it just perfectly conjured the image of horses and sunsets and campfires in your mind and all but has your mouth watering.

“Yeah? You like my stupidly sexy ‘cowboy-ass name’?” He chuckles and reaches for another cookie.

"We don't have cowboys in New Hampshire," you remind him with a pout before refocusing on making his sandwich. "Stupidly sexy or otherwise. And I love your name. So much that I will definitely have Jackson at the top of my baby name list if we ever have a boy."

“If you want to name him Jackson, that’s okay with me.” Just because Jack didn’t use his full name, didn’t mean a son wouldn’t.

"And if you want to name a little girl, that's fine with me." His bagel pops out of the toaster a second later and you lean over to kiss him when you grab it. You fill the two halves up with prepared chicken salad and slide the plate over to him to enjoy.

“I think we should name ‘em together, don’t you?” He asks, smiling at the idea. “Though I’ve always kinda liked the name Emily.”

"I have an aunt Emily who's not exactly the nicest person. She would tell everyone in the world that we named the baby after her and try to be her godmother or something." This, apparently, is exactly the kind of reason to share the decision together, and you gather things up in your arms to bring them back to the fridge while Jack eats. "Maybe a middle name? Or a variant like Amelia or Emeline?"

"Never mind. No Emily." Jack shakes his head, crossing that name off his list. "What's been a name you've always liked?"

With everything put away, you grab a cookie from the open container beside him and hum at the thought. It's both unconventional and very conventional at the same time, depending on who you are. "I always liked Scout," you tell him, nibbling at the cookie. "Like from To Kill a Mockingbird?"

"Scout, hmm?" Jack tilts his head and thinks about it. "It's...unusual" He has to give you that. He's distracted by taking another bite of his bagel sandwich and moaning softly at the deliciousness of it.

"It's okay if you don't like it." It's not like you have your heart set on it, and apparently picking a name for a girl will be slightly more difficult than deciding to name your son after his father.

"What about naming her after your grandmother?" Jack asks, tapping your bracelet on your wrist. "Charles is after his grandpa if it's a boy. We can honor your grandma with a girl."

"Jane?" It's a wonderful thought, one that has you moving in to put your arms around him in a tight hug of gratitude. "I think that would be beautiful. Jane Daniels is a very sweet name."

"You like that?" He asks, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“I love it.” On any other day you might get lost in that kiss, letting it linger and turn exploratory, but the both of you are bone tired and Ginger’s word is law, so you back off to let him finish eating. “Guess we’re all ready for it to happen, then. Down the line.”

"When is up to you." Jack murmurs softly. "You are the one with the restaurant to run."

“Let’s at least get you settled into whatever you new role is going to be.” With big changes in the horizon, throwing lots of new things at Jack all at once doesn’t seem fair in the least. “Talk to Champ, I’ll have Astrid give me a full physical to make sure I’m in good shape, and then we’ll look at family planning. Does that…sound okay?” It really is the definition of family planning, but now that you’ve had a taste of what the expected could feel like, you feel a lot better about a schedule than a surprise.

“That sounds good to me, sugar.” Jack pops the last bite of the bagel sandwich in his mouth and reaches for another cookie. “Still hungry. Damn.”

“That thing really did a number on your appetite, huh?” You’re a little too timid to ask if this is normal in any way for someone who has been so close to death – like his body trying to take in all the calories he needs to regain his strength very quickly.

“I guess.” Jack grunts, shoving the whole cookie into his mouth. “It’s like I’m a teenager again. Hunger-wise.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for acne and a pile of used tissues on your side of the bed.” There are plenty of cookies, thankfully, and you make a mental note to do some more baking tonight so he can at least enjoy his appetite.

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "I think that I've thought about sex less in the past two hours than I probably ever have."

“Then we won’t worry about that for now.” If nothing else, your neighbors will be spared the noise for a bit. “But if it doesn’t come back, make sure you tell Astrid. That’s definitely a side effect.”

"A damn embarrassin' one." Jack huffs, looking down at his flaccid cock. "Looks like a damn traitor to me."

“It’s better.” Or at least it’s not worse, and you throw Jack a grin. “You’re not allowed to indulge for at least two days, so it’s probably better that he’s taking a nap now and not when we are trying to make little humans.”

"Never let me down until now." He huffs, rolling his eyes. "I woulda broken Ging's rule. She knows it too."

“No one’s ever accused you of being well-behaved.” You smirk at him, seeing him finally take a breath again after killing the rest of the container of cookies. “Feel better? Or still hungry? I promise to make shrimp and grits tonight.”

"Now I want that nap." Jack is tried, weary is a more apt word. But just like he had when you had been released from the hyperbaric chamber, all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you and sleep.

“Then let’s go upstairs.” The kitchen is tidy enough, and you’re only going to make a mess of it later, so you leave things as they are and offer him your hand. “We could both do with a good nap in each other’s arms.”

“That’s the best damn idea I’ve heard, sugar.” Jack admits as he reaches for you. “I just want to hold you.”

“I am all for that.” After all, you barely slept the night after you got back from New York, and not at all last night. If not for your extended nap yesterday you’d be running on empty. “I am absolutely all for that.”

******

“Jack.” Champ turns from the bar cart, relieved to see his friend looking like himself. He had learned about his recovery through Tex but hadn’t wanted to intrude while you and he were holed up in the house. “Good to see you looking spry.” He motions Jack closer and holds up a bottle of Reserve. “Tempt you?”

Jack chuckles and nods. “Please. Need to talk to ya.”

“Sounds serious.” The last serious conversation they had had was about a baby, and from the determined set of Jack’s jaw, it could certainly have been unhappy news. “Everything okay?” He asks, pouring them each a glass.

“Yes and no.” Jack won’t deny that he’s upset that he needs to come out of the field, but recovering from injury has felt like he was going through a meat grinder and he wants to avoid leaving you alone in the world. “Need to talk to you about the last mission.”

“Agent Isolde briefed me fully.” The elder of the two men puts both glasses down on either side of his desk with a frown and sits, motioning for Jack to do the same. To say he had been less than thrilled with the injury of one of his best agents would be an understatement, but at least their goal had been achieved. “But I take it you want to discuss something that won’t be in your report?”

“Ginger’s basically said she doesn’t know if she can fix me next time ‘round.” Jack tells Champ bluntly, not willing to beat around the bush. “So I think it’s best if we reevaluate my role here in the operations side of Statesman.”

"Well, that ain't how I thought I would start my day." Champ grumbles, deflating slightly in his chair as he picks up his glass and knocks back half the contents in one go. "Gotta admit, Jack. Part of me didn't think you'd ever come out of the field unless it was in shreds, and it sounds like that's what happened this last time."

“Before…before her, I anticipated being carried out of the field in a box.” Jack admits. “You know I lived for the job, Champ. I ain’t quittin’ on ya. But I can’t make her go through losin’ another soulmate.”

"And I respect the hell out of that." Folding his hands in front of him on the desk, Champ examines his friend. "But I can't have you resentin' your work, either. Decision's gotta be for you. Not her."

“I’m makin’ the call.” Jack assures him. “She was just as flabbergasted as you are, but it’s not the same as when I was out for the tattoo. It’s my choice. I–I want to build a life with her and I can’t do that if she’s visitin’ my memorial.”

"Ain't very often we actually pay out Field Agent Pensions to the agent themselves instead of the spouse." It's not never, but it certainly is unusual. Champ sighs inwardly and meets Jack's eyes. "As far as what you’re capable of, you can do pretty well anything you want," he tells him. "You've earned that right."

He’s glad that Champ is being so accommodating to him. “I still want to be on standby in case something happens where the young’uns need back up.” Jack tells Champ. “But I was thinkin’ about goin’ back to trainin’.”

“If Ginger’s concerned about keeping you out of the line of fire, we’ll take it slow on your standby status.” There is always the chance of something going wrong, as Jack well knows, but Champ won’t shut him out entirely. He does smile, though, amused by the choice. “But training, huh? After you bitched and moaned about being with the recruits, you wanna school ‘em?”

Jack rolls his eyes, blowing out a sigh and crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back. “Knew you’d give me shit about it.” He grumbles under his breath. The training hadn’t been bad, he’d just chafed at it being someone else’s choice. So he’d bitched on principle. “Gotta make sure the next group doesn’t embarrass the hell outta us.”

“If that’s what you want, I’m not gonna object to you bein’ with the new agents. They could learn a thing or two from somebody with your experience.” For that matter, it didn’t always happen that somebody with Jack’s body of work made it to an age where they could become a trainer at all. They had both expected him to come out of the field in tatters for a reason. “I’ll talk to Merlot. She’s got different specialities than you anyway and you could be a good team as trainers.”

“You good with this?” Jack asks seriously, raising a brow at his old friend and boss. “I’ll still be the damn face of this thing. Everyone else is too ugly.”

“I should make you turn in your title,” Champ reminds him, leaning back in his chair. “Take you out of the field and make somebody else Agent Whiskey.” He doesn’t want to, though, and since he’s in charge he can make that decision himself. “Thing is, I’ve been having my own thoughts about Statesman lately.”

“Yeah?” Jack uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “What are you thinking?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Thinkin’ I’m gettin’ old,” Champ chuckles, topping off both of their glasses and leveling his friend with a serious look. “Got ideas in my head about stepping back, but there wasn’t anyone to trust with runnin’ the place until about five minutes ago.”

Jack’s jaw drops open, never imagining Champ retiring anytime soon. “And someone just came to mind five minutes ago, huh?” He asks, picking up his drink and taking a sip of the smooth whiskey.

"Five minutes, two minutes, I don't know how long ago your stubborn ass strolled in here. I was tryin' to be dramatic." Champ huffs, rolling his eyes at Jack and sipping his drink. "Point is, I was about your age when I stepped up to this post, and I don't fancy wasting my retirement on years where I need help wipin' my ass." He shifts in his seat, drawing up to his fullest height like it was a matter of dignity. And maybe it is. "Things around here are changing, Jack. And as much as I like to pretend I ain't any different than I used to be, I'm movin' a lot slower these days. Now Diana won't be retiring anytime soon and that's fine, but I could. I could step back and let somebody else take this office and I'd be happy as a pig in shit tinkering away in R&D making new weapons for the agents coming in."

“You did make some damn fine weapons.” Jack draws with a smirk. His own whip was Champ’s creation and he was awfully fond of it. “So what you’re sayin’ is that you wanna saddle me with the headache of wranglin’ agents while you drink whiskey and play with toys.”

"Hell yes I do." That makes him laugh, genuinely belly laugh, and Champ sits back again feeling a little more relaxed. "You can say no, Jack. But I don't think I want to hand the mantle of Agent Champagne off to anybody else."

“Those are mighty big fuckin’ boots to fill.” Jack leans back and gauges his old friend’s face. The idea has merit. He’s actually pretty damn good at the administrative side no matter how much it irks him. Probably a little rougher around the edges than Champ, but that’s just due to him still thinking like a field agent. “Let me talk to her?” He asks, knowing that he wouldn’t expect anything less from Jack. “But start having Diana plan your retirement party.”

"I think we'll have a mighty fine new Agent Whiskey." The mischief on Champ's face is obvious, and he knows it'll take some getting used to for everyone but he won't mind leaving his old moniker behind now. Not now that he's got Jack to trust with it.

“And who are you thinkin’ that will be?” Jack’s brow ticks up curiously.

"Don't know if she told you." It would surprise him if it hadn't been mentioned, but things have been a little tumultuous lately, he gathers. "But Sophia applied to be a permanent fixture at Statesman."

“Yeah….” Jack grins. “You want to make the Brit Agent Whiskey?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’ll be just perfect. The next Whiskey’ll run roughshod over Tequila just like I did.”

“What do you want me to do? Gin is already taken.” Both men share a laugh over the irony of the choice, but Champ has to admit that it feels right to him. Sophia is a strong agent who fits into the fabric of Statesman better than some of the damn American recruits they’ve had. She’s got the – as Jack says – roughshod tendencies of a cowboy and the tenacity of six men all packed into one woman. “Go talk to your better half,” he encourages. “I’m gonna look over the list of inactive monikers for myself so you don’t try to make me Iced Tea or some damn thing.”

Jack snorts and tosses back the rest of his drink and slides the glass across the table. “Could always call you Arnold Palmer.” He teases, referencing the concoction of half iced tea, half lemonade.

“Get out,” Champ huffs, shaking his head as he guffaws unapologetically. “While I can still kick ya out, I’m gonna.”

Jack nods and stands, eager to go talk to you and see what you think. He knows you will tell him to do whatever he wants, but he wants to include you in this decision.

******

Being gone for a few days means that things at the restaurant need checking over, but Diana and your staff had things running smoothly enough in your absence. What’s left to do today is the ordering, so you’re hunkered down at your desk with a cup of tea and one of yesterday’s leftover scones to look over the books and make sure that you’ll be getting in what you need for the coming week. Tedious? Maybe. But after the last few days you welcome it.

The smell of your coconut cake cooling hits Jack’s nose as he opens the door, making him groan happily. “Sugar?” He calls out, striding through the empty dining room. “You here?”

“In my office!” You call out, not looking up and grinning when you hear your pastry staff greeting Jack on his way through the kitchen. When he hits your doorway he’s almost beaming and you’re glad to see his meeting with Champ went well. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Daniels?”

“Just wanted to see my sugar, sugar.” He teases, although he may have swiped a tea cake on his way by. The hunger still comes in waves. “And talk to you about somethin’ important.”

“Oh?” Important but not bad, judging from his demeanor. That’s good. “Come on in and shut the door. I could use a break before my eyes cross.”

He dutifully closes the door, but he doesn’t sit. Instead he comes up behind you and rubs your shoulders sympathetically as he peers over at your order. “Paperwork?”

“Weekly order.” You hum, affecting a frown but not feeling it. “So yeah, paperwork in a way.”

“Gotcha.” He smirks when you moan, his fingers digging into a knot right in your shoulders. “So I talked to Champ about the training. But he’s not so sure that’s what he wants me to do.”

“No?” It’s hard to be upset about anything with Jack giving you a massage, but you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. “He wants you to stay in the field? Even with what Ginger said?”

“Nah. He wants to retire.” Jack hums. “He wants me to become Agent Champagne.”

“What?!” Immediately turning around in your chair, you’re gaping at Jack with your mouth wide open at how casually he says it. “H—he just…can he do that? Do you even want that??” It’s never been anything that he had discussed with you, and you have to wonder if this is just something that happens every few decades or if Champ and Jack really are so close that one man would just hand it off to the next like this. Like a plane dropping out of midair without warning.

“Champ came out of the field and took the role when he was my age.” Jack admits, shuffling over and perching on the edge of your desk. “I already did a lot of paperwork as the senior field agent, so it will be more administrative. Handling the agents and assigning missions.” He explains. “Champ wants to tinker in R&D again – where he worked best – and turn the day to day over to me.”

“Baby…” Sitting back, you can’t help but take in the way Jack seems to downright glow with this new development. He’s bursting at the seams with pride and grinning like a madman and you can see the excitement rolling off him in waves. “You look excited. If this is what you want to do – taking this big promotion and being in charge of it all? It’s your decision, and I’m one hundred percent behind whatever you decide.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” He rolls his eyes playfully and leans in. “Are you sure? That means I’m home all the time.”

“Is that supposed to deter me?” You grin back, ticking one eyebrow up at him. “Getting to see my fiancé isn’t a chore, ya know.”

“You say that now but you might get tired of me.” Jack chuckles again and leans in to kiss you. “So that’s a yes? To becoming the old man in the whiskey bottle?”

“Honestly?” You look up at him seriously, accepting a second kiss when he leans in again. “You’re gonna be home instead of out there with your neck on the line. We can have nights and weekends, we can plan vacations, and we can have a stable environment for the kids when they eventually are born. As long as you’re happy, it sounds pretty perfect to me.”

“Picture perfect, sugar.” Jack winks and presses his lips to yours. “You’re gunna have your happily ever after.” He murmurs against your lips. “Starting on your next day off.”

“The very next one, huh?” He’s excited, and his kisses have an addictive quality like this that you just can’t deny. “We gonna celebrate?”

“Figured we could.” He smirks at you and lifts a brow. “Scheduled us both some appointments.”

“Appointments?” Ah, this is the other reason he’s excited. “What are you treating us to, Agent Champagne?”

“Well, since I will officially not be going back in the field…” Jack shrugs, wondering if you will love or hate the idea. “I figured we could put that ink back on your pretty skin.”

“Jack.” It hadn’t even occurred to you, but he’s right. If he’s taken a desk job – for lack of a better term – then there is no reason to not have that mark returned to your arm. But the fact that he thought of it so immediately is so sweet you could cry. “Are you sure?”

“Appointments are booked.” Jack confirms, raising his brows. “Unless you want to wait?” He asks, unsure if maybe your own perception of him wearing your marks have changed since New York.

“No, no, I don’t.” You promise him quickly. “I want to have our marks back. I just wanted to be sure that it’s what you want, too.”

“Sugar….” Jack picks up your arm and turns it over so he can press his lips to the patch of skin above your elbow where the tattoo used to sit. “I want to wear your marks. Every one of them.”

The smile you shoot at him is mischievous and you squeeze his hand. “Does that mean I can get more?” You tease.

His eyes widen and he looks scared for a moment. “Where?”

“Nowhere that’s going to hurt.” Or hurt worse, anyway. “But I had always planned on having my family’s names on me somewhere, when I eventually met my soulmate or had kids on my own.”

“So I would wear my own name?” He tilts his head and snickers. “People will accuse me of being a narcissist.”

“I had a plan for a little family tree…” you explain, starting to feel silly about the whole thing. “We don’t have to, honey. It was a long ago thought and it’s more than enough that you’re okay with having my playing card back.”

“I’m teasing you.” Jack promises, grinning. “Where do you want to put it?”

“O-on my thigh.” Your hand goes to the place automatically, tracing where you had thought the roots of the tree would sit. “So this is what it’s gonna be like, huh?” If he is going to tease you, you’re going to tease him right back. “You’re gonna have to burn off all that energy you would use chasing bad guys by teasing me?”

“That or keep you tied to the bed with my lasso.” Jack hums. Actual restraints haven’t been used so far but you’ve talked about that little fantasy and how you still want to try it when you are ready.

“Adventures in baby making,” you joke with a smirk. “I’m not going to be mad about more sex.”

“Want to make a baby in my new office?” He waggles his brows playfully.

“I kinda always wondered how sturdy that desk is.” It’s playful now, the easy joking and teasing, and you lean in to brush the tip of his nose with yours. “I also wonder how sturdy my desk is.”

“Hmmm we will have to find that out.” Jack hums. Later. He still hasn’t even popped wood yet and if Ginger hadn’t put him through a full physical earlier, he would be worried.

“I guess we will.” It’s nothing to pressure him about, but you do steal another kiss. “I’m having dinner with Sophia tonight to talk about wedding things. Maybe we can have dinner to celebrate your promotion tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, sugar.” Jack murmurs softly. “If you want, I can get something from Ginger to…help things?” He asks. It’s embarrassing as hell; but he would do it if his fingers or his tongue aren’t enough.

“I don’t mind waiting, baby. I promise.” After all, recovering from an injury takes time. And his injuries were severe. “Just be prepared for me to want to ride my cowboy when you’re feeling up to it.”

“It wouldn’t take long if my traitorous cock would listen to my mind and heart.” Jack huffs. His lack of sex drive has nothing to do to his attraction to you, you’re still gorgeous to him. Sexy and appealing.

“We have all the time in the world.” It’s actually a relief, of sorts, to think that Jack will stay home and safe. That you will have all the time in the world. “No reason to rush.”

“I just don’t want you thinkin’ I don’t want you.” Jack admits quietly.

“I don’t think that.” Your voice softens, hearing the confession, and you place both of your hands on his knees. “We’ve both been through hell lately, physically. It’s not so bad for us to rest a little before we go back to our favorite cardio routine.”

“Good.” He’s relieved that you don’t believe that. Closing his eyes and smiling softly. “We did pack a lot of sex into a small window, didn’t we?”

“As often as humanly possible,” you snicker in amusement. “We got every room in the house pretty quickly.”

“He better work before we move.” Jack grunts. “That’s a lot of rooms to christen.”

That makes you sit back again, and you tilt your head at him. “We’re moving?”

“The house comes with the title, sugar.” Jack realizes you don’t know. “Diana and Champ will move into another, smaller house and we will move into theirs.”

“Damn…” You shake your head, offering him an impressed expression and squeezing his thighs gently with both hands. “So someone else will take over as Senior Field Agent and CEO, and you’ll take over as Director and Owner.”

“It’s weird to think about, but yeah.” Jack chuckles as he realizes that’s what his titles would be.

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." Both thumbs rub soft, reassuring circles on his jeans just above his knees. "Being the right person to run Statesman is no small achievement."

“I hope I can do him justice.” Jack admits, flashing you a smile. “For all his laid back attitude, Champ is a hell of a boss. I hope to be the same.”

******

For all the big and small changes, for all the adjustments and moving and settling in, spring turned to summer with grace. Tourist traffic ramped up, the restaurant got busier, and the demands of Jack’s new position all kept you both busy until suddenly it was time for Tex and Sophia to get married. It seemed to sneak up on you all at once, and yet nothing was too rushed or too unprepared.

A beautiful ceremony in the converted barn became a reception that seemingly spilled out over every inch of the campus, with twinkling lights and cheerful music filling the late June night. The towering green geode wedding cake you made them was a beast to cut, but you return to Jack’s side triumphantly with two plates after conquering the giant confection. “Dessert is served,” you announce with a grin, having slipped a slice of the key lime cheesecake that he and Sophia both adore onto your plates alongside the caramel apple flavored cake.

“God.” Jack groans, snatching up his fork. “I love your cakes.” He moans as he forks up a bite of the cheesecake.

“I think I’m going to make our wedding cake,” you tell him, glad that his mouth is full and he can’t immediately object. “They’re big and they’re showy and they’re fun.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asks, unsure of if that is the best idea. He knows that planning a wedding is stressful.

“I won’t do it alone. I’ll have an assistant for it, and if I get overwhelmed, I’ll have them finish it for me.” Truth be told, you’ve barely started nailing down the planning for your own wedding, having spent the last two months focusing on Tex and Sophia’s emerald paradise. “But I’d like to do something with my own two hands for the day, if I can.”

“Sugar, it’s whatever you want.” Jack promises. “The wedding of the new Director of Statesman is a big deal after all. You make it as fancy or as homey as you want. Long as you marry me, I’m good as gold.”

His promotion and Rick Rogers’ retirement has been big news, and though Jack hasn’t adopted Champ as a nickname the way his predecessor did, he is still easily recognizable as the big man on campus. “Between Diana and me, planning will be a breeze. All you boys will have to do is show up.”

“Well, that’s a damn relief.” Jack snorts with a grin, forking up a bite of the cake to feed to you. “Is this the kind of cake you want at your wedding? Or do you want a giant coconut cake?”

“I think it has to be coconut cake, don’t you?” It’s a family favorite and Jack’s favorite, so it seems like the logical answer. “But I think our alternate dessert should have whiskey in it. Just because.”

“What about a chocolate whiskey cake? With strawberries.” Jack offers. “Or…we have whiskey and coconut cream shooters to go with the cake?”

“Would you want a groom’s cake?” It’s not something you’d discussed yet, but it has a distinct charm to it. “You could have a chocolate groom’s cake with whiskey caramel buttercream? Or something like that.”

“You tryin’ to seduce me all over again, sugar?” Jack groans, rolling his eyes dramatically at the thought of that cake. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have that too. Although I would want to save a piece for later on to share with you.”

“We’ll freeze a little bit of each for our anniversary.” It was something your parents always talked about having done, and you had thought it was such a sweet way to honor the day — pun very much intended. “How about that?”

“We’ll need to store it good.” Jack chuckles. “Otherwise it’ll be freezer burnt.” His cake with Abigail had been, and they had each taken one bite before spitting it out and laughing at how horrible it tasted. “Have you decided when?” He asks softly, wearing a small smirk. “So I know when you want to start tryin’ for that first little cowboy?”

“If it gets freezer burnt, I’ll make cupcakes,” you promise him with a grin. “I…I was thinking spring? A nice, long engagement so we can plan with the least possible stress.”

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help wherever you want to me.” He doesn’t expect you to plan the entire thing yourself. “And I’ve already got half our honeymoon planned.”

“Oh yeah?” That has you smiling a little more broadly and raising an eyebrow at him as you fork up a bite of caramel apple cake to feed him. “But we didn’t pick out where we’d go for a spring wedding.”

“Well damn, we didn’t.” Jack sends you an amused glance. “So where am I keeping you in bed for half the day?”

“You tell me,” you smirk at him. “Since you already have it half planned, apparently.”

He thinks about it for a moment and grins. “South America. Brazil, Chile, Peru, Argentina.” He decides. “How does that sound?”

There’s a momentary pause where you practically vibrate in your chair as you get more and more excited, thinking through how many intricacies of cuisines, gorgeous beaches, and wonderful sights there are in that stunning part of the world. “It sounds amazing!” You squeak, throwing one arm around him tightly. “Suddenly I’m extra glad you won an extra honeymoon week from our bet.”

Jack chuckles and doesn’t miss the opportunity to hold you close and kiss you. He had another surprise for you later. “You like that, huh?”

“Very romantic,” you commend with a hum, happy to be glued to his side. Since his sex drive returned he’s been absolutely insatiable. “Just be ready for me to bargain with every abuelita we meet for their family recipes.”

“I already anticipated that.” Jack chuckles. “I’ve ordered you a ‘Honeymoon Recipe’ book to jot down all the recipes in.”

“Jack Daniels.” There’s awe and gratitude in your voice when you pull back to look him in the eyes. “That might be one of the sexiest things you’ve ever said to me.”

The laugh he lets out draws the attention of quite a few of the guests, but he doesn’t care, pulling you in for a hug. “Sexiest, huh?” He teases. “How worked up will you get if I start readin’ a recipe to ya?”

“Depends what it’s for.” Practically in his lap at your table, you smirk at him and leave a kiss on his cheek. “Chocolate mousse is a lot sexier than oatmeal.”

“If I hadn’t promised you a dance, I would be sweet talking you out of here with the recipe for lemon curd.” He teases.

“Okay, but lemon curd is actually deceptively easy—” You start in, completely in earnest, only catching yourself when he smirks at you. “I was supposed to hone in on the dancing and sweet talking part of that and not the recipe, wasn’t I?”

“Yes you were, sugar.” Jack chuckles again and stands up, holding out his hand to you. “Come dance with me and you can tell me all about the lemon curd you’re gonna add to the menu.”

The band is playing something slow, and you abandon your table and empty dessert plates happily to take his hand. Any dance with Jack is a good one, but something romantic is even better. “I have been thinking about it,” you laugh, letting him pull you into his arms on the dance floor.

“I figured.” Jack hums, smiling at you. “There’s been a hundred pounds of lemons in our kitchen.”

“The privilege of having a chef for a soulmate is getting to be a taste tester,” you remind him, Batting your eyelashes as though it takes convincing for him to agree.

“As long as you make me some lemon pancakes.” Jack hums. “With honey butter.”

“Is that what you want for breakfast tomorrow?” Swaying in his arms is such a safe place that you soften and giggle without a thought for anything else in the world. “I can do that.”

“That sounds good and brunchy, doesn’t it?” Jack muses. “Because I have every intention of not letting you out of the bed until at least noon.”

“Oh, is that so?” It sounds perfect, and a generous way to spend the morning after your close friends’ wedding. They’ll be jetting off to Tahiti and you’ll be snug in Jack’s arms in bed. “In that case I’m making sausage, too. Sounds like we’ll need our strength,” you tease with a wink.

“We need to strategize our baby making routine.” Jack teases, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against your neck. “Want to make sure we have it perfected for when you go off the birth control.”

“Put the man behind a desk and suddenly life is full of missions.” It makes things feel like little adventures, though, which you can’t object to.

“So you don’t want me to show you the sexy little plug I got you?” Jack asks, lifting a brow as he pulls away to see your reaction.

"You–" That is a very unexpected thing for him to say, and you can't help the way you smirk when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Are we talking anal plug or pussy plug? I'm in either way, I'm just curious."

“Well now that you say that…” Jack jokes. “I was talkin’ about a pussy plug, but I see I need to go back to that store.”

"Maybe we should go together." It's certainly something you haven't done before, and would probably lead to rampant fucking for the rest of the day afterward, so it sounds like a damn good plan to you.

He smirks and winks at you. “I think we should do that, sugar. But we don’t need to worry about whips or lassos.” He teases. “I’ve got that covered.”

"Yes, you definitely do." The bedroom-approved ones are definitely different from the ones that hang in his office every day, but they are much more fun for being that much less dangerous. "And I'm a very big fan of how well you use them."

Things have become a little more adventurous where restraints are concerned. After talking about it in therapy, safe words and the light system were put into place so you could feel secure in exploring that with Jack. He made sure to constantly check in with you, not wanting you to have any sort of pressure to push past things and do it for him. “You feelin’ like usin’ ‘em tonight?”

"We could do that." Adventurous sex on somebody else's wedding night sounds perfect, actually, and you lean in a little closer to kiss the sensitive skin on the edge of his jaw. "Might even dodge a noise complaint with our neighbors at this party all night long."

“It’s always funny to me.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Means they are envious.”

"We should see if we can't find Joe a date now and then," you smirk, barely holding back a giggle. Agent Rye had taken up the mantle of Senior Field Agent and Statesman CEO at Jack's insistence, and that meant that he had moved into your old house next door.

“Man should be able to find his own dates.” Jack huffs playfully. “Don’t understand.”

The song has changed, but it's still sweet and slow so you and Jack have just kept swaying together. "Not everybody is as effortlessly charming and handsome as you are, baby."

“Wondering if Rye might not be the relationship type.” Jack hums, looking over at where he was sitting and talking to Sophia’s parents.

"Maybe not. That's okay, too." The man may have helped save your life in New York, but you were really only just getting to know him now. "But maybe we'll make sure there are plenty of eligible ladies and gentlemen at the Fourth of July party just in case."

“Absolutely.” Jack thinks that it’s sweet that you want all your friends to be happy in relationships. “I think that’ll be a good idea.”

"Hey..." Reaching up, you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead and smile softly. He looks so fucking handsome in the moonlight like this, but his hand on your back is barely above your ass and it's got you thinking distinctly private thoughts. "You wanna get out of here, cowboy?"

His grin is quick and dirty, nodding eagerly. “Yes ma’am.” He drawls. “I’ve gotta pretty girl to make scream my name.”

"She's a very lucky girl." You grin at him before you both slip off the dance floor to retrieve your things from your table. "Lucky and very excited."

“We’ll see how excited you are when you are begging me for a break.” Jack swats your ass playfully and winks at the bride and groom as they glance over at you.

Sophia laughs, seeing you jump a second after Jack winks, and she knows he must have smacked your ass just the same way that Tex likes to do to her. She only waves, looking up to her newly minted husband to whisper to him that you and Jack are leaving, and Tex gives the same small gesture as Sophia. The small acknowledgement between you is enough. It's permission to slip away and thanks, and you put your hand to your heart before waving back one more time and scurrying away with Jack.

Even though the house isn’t too far away, Jack had still brought the Bronco. Not wanting you to walk too far in heels or have to mess up your hair or makeup on the way to the wedding. Now it makes for the prime getaway vehicle.

You hop into the Bronco and giggle gleefully as Jack peels out of the parking lot with you tucked into his side like teenagers sneaking away from the school to go find some privacy. The whole five minutes it will take you to drive home is still five minutes of being fully clothed around each other and right now that feels like an awfully long time.

Tonight, Jack has plans. The romance of the day isn't lost on him and he wants to make sure that you are fully aware of how much he loves you. The weeks that it took for his libido to catch back up with his brain had been much like your days recovering, lots of intimate moments without being physical, but he wants to leave you limp with pleasure tonight. Especially since he was made to swear he wouldn't touch you before the reception in an effort to not make you late or ruin your look.

The giddiness in the air doesn’t dissipate as Jack pulls into the driveway. The day has been exciting and joyful and the night is no exception, though not that you and Jack are alone again the excitement is more akin to electricity. Jack bounds out of the Bronco and rushes around the hood, not wanting you to open the door yourself. You smirk at him, about to comment over what a gentleman he is when he reaches up and scoops you out of the seat and tosses you over his shoulder.

Your squeak is music to his ears, delighted and eager, and you hang onto his shoulder for dear life as he carries you into the house. Something gives your feeling that slow and steady lovemaking is out of the question for tonight, and that is just fine with you.

“Been teasin’ me all damn day in this dress.” Jack growls, slapping your ass as he kicks open the door to the bedroom.

"You say that like I picked it." Of course you might not have, but Sophia was the one who picked the lowest cut neckline for your bridesmaid dress and the swing-style skirt that showed off your legs while you danced. Of course you didn't choose it yourself, but you certainly didn't argue with the choice, knowing that Jack would love it.

Jack huffs. “You poured yourself into it, didn’t you?” He demands, tossing you down on the bed and shucking his tux jacket.

"Just for you, baby," you promise him, giggling grin turning into a hungry moan as Jack starts pulling at his shirt.

Jack smirks, slowing his hands down until he is barely slipping a button from its snug resting place. "You want me naked, sugar?" He asks, voice dipping down low.

"Now who's the tease?" The fingers about to remove your jewelry and the shimmering belt from the waist of your dress pause in challenge and the smirk returns to your lips. "I'd rather not damage your tux, cowboy, but it's coming off you one way or another."

"Oh really?" Jack chuckles and slips another button free, finally completely unbuttoning his shirt so he can work on his cufflinks. "I think one day I'd like to see you tear my clothes off."

"I came pretty close a few weeks ago." Jack's healing had kept you cooling your heels for a while, which was fine. He needed the time to regain his strength and feel like himself again. But you had pretty much pounced on him the morning he had finally woken up with morning wood again.

"I've never seen you sink down on my cock quite so quickly...." Jack teases, winking at you. "Or that desperately. It's like you like having me buried deep and throbbing inside you or something."

"You're fucking right I do." Dropping your earrings and belt on your nightstand, you sit up on your knees and reach behind you to pull the zipper on your dress. "Best feeling in the world."

"Yeah?" Jack tosses the cufflinks into the small tray where he keeps his watch and glasses, hitting it perfectly. He sheds the shirt to reveal his chest, smooth and whole without any scars to remind you of his near death experience.

"Yeah." It barely even matters for you to shrug out of the thin straps of your dress, but slipping out of it lets your arms free to reach for him and that's what you care about right now. You never miss the opportunity to press a kiss over his heart anymore, knowing that you came so very close to never being able to again.

The moment softens slightly and Jack reaches for your hands, hold them in his before the lace under your dress captures his attention. "What is this?" Jack asks.

"Oh, this old thing?" The smirk returns to your lips full force as you step off the bed, letting the dress slip off your body and pool on the floor around your feet. Sophia may have chosen the dress, but you hand selected the lacy corset bra and matching panties underneath just for Jack to have as a treat. "They're just something I had lying around," you tease. "Why? You like them?"

"Fuck, sugar." Jack whistles, his cock violently twitching in his pants. "It looks like it's our wedding night and you are dressed to give your new husband a heart attack." The tea length white dresses had looked amazing against the bride's emerald green wedding dress and all in all, it had been a beautiful wedding.

"Oohhh no," you turn in place for him to see the whole thing, and make sure to shake your hips at him for good measure. "What I have on under my dress at our wedding is going to be a whole lot skimpier, I promise."

"So I'm hauling you directly from the wedding to the honeymoon suite?" Jack groans, reaching down and palming himself as he tries to unbuckle his belt one handed.

"We can always slip off for a quickie while people are at cocktails and the photographer is with the wedding party." Smacking his hand away, you have his belt open and pulled free of his pants in ten seconds. "I'm sure we wouldn't be the first newlyweds to need to fuck immediately after their vows."

The second your fingers brush his throbbing cock, it's like a switch has been thrown. In one quick move Jack grabs your hands, lifting them over your head and twisting your body back down onto the bed in the blink of an eye. The motion absorbing bed is the only reason you don't bounce and it keeps you firmly in his clutches.

"Fuck!" It takes you off guard but the curse comes on a moan as you twist to look at him over your shoulder. "You like them that much, baby?"

He doesn't answer, letting go of your wrists and gripping the lace corset in his hands, not even bothering with the small eyelets as he pulls it apart with his bare hands.

"Shit, Jack!" If you hadn't fully wanted this reaction and worn favorite lingerie instead of a new set just for him, you might be upset to lose the corset, but frankly the animalistic reaction is exactly what you were hoping to get from him and you end up whimpering and pushing your ass back toward him instead of making any protest at all.

His hands come down on the globes of your ass, making a crack ring out around the bedroom. Along with your gasping moan of delight. The thin line of material down the crack of your ass is where he grabs, shredding them in his hands and pulling the material out from under you to fling behind him. "Fuck."

You push up on your hands and knees and rock backward, nudging your ass against him so his cock slides along your skin, shivering at the sensation. "I'm wet enough," you promise him, practically panting at the thought. "Every time you fucking looked at me tonight it was like a flood in those tiny little panties."

"Good." He groans, reaching for your hips as his cock slides through your soaked folds. You are wet. "I'm going to make sure that you feel me, sugar." He vows. "Every inch."

The warm thickness of his cock makes your eyelids flutter and you push back again, intending to make him live up to that promise tonight. "You want me just like this, baby?" At some point tonight you fully intend to ride your cowboy, but the way he fucks you into the mattress from behind is a feeling that just can't be compared.

"Yes." Jack growls, snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt into you and propelling both of you into the bed.

"FUCK." Your back bows and cheek hits the comforter, arms buckling under you with no chance of holding you up while Jack pushes you down into the bedding with a great groan. Like this it feels like his cock has reached all the way into your chest, and you keen at the feeling of his throbbing inside you. It's so fucking good and all he did was push inside.

"Perfect." Jack grunts out, grinding into you before he pulls his hips back. He wants to make tonight as rowdy as a rodeo on a Friday night in a country town. "Fuckin' perfect." His next thrust is just as powerful, just as harsh as he pushes back into you, stealing your breath and pushing the sexiest little whine out of your mouth.

"Make me feel it." The challenge comes out with a moan, already certain without a doubt that that's his goal. "For days, baby. Wanna still feel your cock when I'm on the line tomorrow."

Smirking, Jack slaps your ass as he pulls his hips back and sets out to do just that. The pace he sets is brutal. Bone jarring and there isn't time to think, draw a breath or even cry out as he hammers into you as if he was on a mission. In his mind, he is. Watching the way your body absorbs the impact of his thrusts and feeling the way your walls flutter around his drilling length.

It's gloriously brutal, unforgiving in a way that has you clawing at the blankets and hanging on for dear life as he takes what he wants with every single thrust. There's no faltering in his pace and no indication that he has any intention of letting up, and if you could form a coherent thought you would be babbling praise and even begging him for more. Whatever he's willing to give, you'll take it. This night is going to have your eyes watering and mascara streaking down your cheeks and it's worth every second.

As he beats himself into you, hoping to reach your womb, he thinks about how he would get you pregnant. Filling you up and letting it take. He hadn’t realized how amazing it could be when he had done it the first time around. He wants to make sure he appreciates every step of the way in this journey.

With as fast and furious as he's fucking himself into you it only makes sense that your first orgasm hits you like a battering ram, slamming into your body with so much force that your scream cracks on its way out of your throat, crumbling into a whimpering keen that only vaguely resembles his name. Your pussy locks down around him temporarily, flooding his cock with liquid pleasure and making the next thrust squelch pornographically.

Groaning is the only response Jack had to your orgasm. His pace never falters for a single second. The obscene sounds of his cock working in and out of you get louder, more satisfying, but he wants more. He needs it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck–" There is nothing stopping him tonight and you swear if you had known he would be this dedicated to the task tonight you would have stretched. There's nothing to do but take it, as he keeps you pinned down under his bulk with both hands holding you tight enough that if you find permanent indentations there in the morning you won't be the least bit surprised.

He doesn’t want to cum again and not be able to see your face. Pulling out of you abruptly, he grabs your hips to roll you over onto your back. His long hands circle your ankles, pulling one leg up onto his shoulder and plunging back into you so sharply and abruptly that you cry out. The little bit of pain that comes with him thrusting with so much force only adds to the pleasure and your back arches all over again with the new angle.

One leg isn’t enough, he can’t get deep enough to satisfy him. He pulls your other leg up onto his shoulder and starts to press down. Folding you in half as he drills down, filling you up at the same harsh pace as before. His sweat rolls down his forehead but he just watches the way you buck under him.

It's like he's doing push-ups on top of you and somehow that image just makes it even sexier, letting your head fall back onto the sheets as the crumpled blankets slip further down the bed. Groans and growls rumble out of his chest. Gritting his teeth harshly and somehow, his pace picks up. Making him rock his hips even faster as his cock plunges in and out of you.

The night dissolves around you with sounds of pleasure mixing into the celebratory air. The lights in your bedroom are bright behind the drawn curtains and let you watch every bulging, straining muscle on Jack's body. All but the one throbbing inside you, making you cry out with each and every flick of his hips.

It’s almost unhinged, the pace that he’s thrusting into you. Nearly pushing you up the bed, Jack fucks into you like it’s his last night on earth. “Love—” he groans, feeling his body starting to tense and for the first time since sliding inside you, his pace stutters. “You.”

"I–fuck–love you, too." His eyes roll back when his pace breaks, and if you had any leverage at all you would roll him onto his back and ride him until every last drop of him was spent inside you. This is Jack's show tonight, though, and you reach above your head to brace yourself against the headboard so you don't hit your head.

Only two more thrusts later and he’s gone, pushing as deep as he can and shouting your name. Body jerking as he starts to empty himself inside you. Your body shatters on the heels of his seeming explosion, and you shake with the force of cumming a second time. Every wave of pleasure is your cunt clenching down on him that much tighter, drawing him deeper into your body and holding him there like it's trying to fuse you together permanently.

Heaving over you, Jack makes sure every drop of his cum pushes inside you. Flooding your womb and with the last twitch, he sighs, nearly drunk on pleasure.

"Fucking hell," you groan, head falling back again on the mattress as your body lets go every ounce of tension it had coiled into in the grip of orgasm. There isn't a chance in hell of being able to kiss him like this so you focus on catching on catching your breath, grinning up at him like a madwoman.

“Fuck.” Jack huffs, panting as he slowly takes stock of where his body parts are. His forearms are trembling and he lets your legs fall from his shoulders. “Let me catch my breath and I’ll get off you, sugar.”

"Take your time." There's a giggle in the back of your throat, and you reach up with one heavy arm to brush the damp hair off of his forehead. "I'm just gonna lay here and gaze at you like a lovestruck idiot, if that's okay."

“Gaze away.” Jack chuckles and lets out a winded breath. “Damn, that was a ride. You didn’t buck me though.”

"Never," you promise him. "I'd never buck my favorite stud."

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?” Jack asks with a slight frown on his face. “Swore I saw you wince once.”

"Just once." It's not like you would bother lying about it, when it didn't matter at all. "I think you must have been trying to get past my cervix," you tease.

“Thought that was the way you like it?” Jack still pets your face and kisses you tenderly in apology.

"I absolutely do." But you'll still steal any excuse in the world to kiss him. “Which is why the moaning didn't stop for a single second.” Jack hums, feeling your slight wiggle, indicating it’s time for your bathroom break. It always comes within three minutes of finishing up. "How does a bath sound?" He's started to move off of you with a grunt and you have to go to the bathroom anyway. "Soothe those hard working muscles before bed?"

“That sounds good, sugar.” There’s a high probability that you are suggesting it because you are sore, but Jack climbs to his feet after he pulls out of you and offers you his hand to help you off the bed. “You pee and I’ll run the bath.”

The loss of him makes you moan in the back of your throat, but you lift yourself up with Jack's help and pause for just a moment, wrapping him up in a soft, sweet kiss. "I love you so much," you murmur, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose as well as his lips. "And I can't wait to marry you."

“Whenever you want.” Jack promises, smiling like he won the damn lottery. His fingers brush over your tattoo that is back in its place of honor on your elbow.

"Maybe tomorrow we'll sit down with a calendar and our lemon pancakes." Finally picking a date would be a big step in the right direction, and you kiss him once more before unraveling yourself from him to go into the bathroom. It was a perfect wedding, and a perfect night afterward. The only one you're looking forward to more is your own.

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[that1nkyone]

Hang on, I gotta talk about the Platypus for a sec

So it's a pretty well-known fact that once colonialists started invading Australia in the 1700s, they came across a lot of fauna that made them go "what the fuck is this." A lot of the default reaction for England back then was 'shoot it and take it back home,' or 'put aboard a ship and hope it's alive when we get there.'

But I wanna talk a little about the details of that, and how I'm a little cheesed off with the Naturalists of Old when they first saw a platypus.

For one, it was dead. And dismissed because there's no way that beak was real. Those cheeky colonists were definitely playing a prank and wasting their time.

And then a few more come in, this time preserved as well as they can be in spirits. And people start saying "okay, well... what is it? Is it a bird? The bill makes me think it's a bird." "These aren't feathers." "It swims? It's an amphibian, which is a Reptile, as we all know (they didn't think these guys Seperate until quite a bit later)." "This thing is also clearly amongst the Lower Beings of God's Creations (Creationism was still a big thing in scientific circles)."

Paper upon paper was written about this new creature, and suddenly nobody could agree on what to classify it as. Their ideas of the natural order started suddenly collapsing and being thrown into disarray.

Because of this little guy.

The Naturalist Science scene was going berserk halfway across the world because their fundamental understanding of nature was being turned on its head by this tiny mammal - who they were still trying to decide whether it was a mammal.

The English were having arguments with the French, but some were collaborating ideas based on what data they'd gained (some French and English naturalists met up in Australia during the war to share a drink and talk about Platypuses). Because this strange duck-billed creature surely had no place in the Chain of Being, their point of classification for species that they'd used for the past hundreds of years. And if it did, where the heck did it belong?

Did it lay eggs? How did it swim? What was the bill for? They didn't know the answer to any of these questions because all the specimens they got from Australia were Very Deceased, either being shot and put in spirits, or dried out. The poor platypus was being done in a lot for the sake of research.

And look, I know methods were Different back then, and it wasn't easy to transport live specimens or have the technology to preserve specimens over half the planet. With that said, I do want to point something out:

While this huge crisis is happening, in January 1812, a man named Patrick Hill gets the bright idea to like... ask the elder of the local Indigenous tribe about them (my source records him as Cookoogong, but not all sources about First Nations from early colonial texts are accurate.)

And Cookoogong's like "Oh, these guys? Yeah, so, they do lay eggs. They have long, deep burrows. We know how to get to them. There's a spur at the back of their feet. We don't really eat them for food. We call it the mullingong.*"(also malangong, depending on what tribe/dialect) Cool. Mystery solved.

Except:

It took over seventy years for this information to become accepted as scientific fact.

Not just because of the inherent biases of the Colonials being backwater people and prisoners in a funny little land far away, not just out of a need to get more data before confirmation, but because almost nobody in Europe took the word of the native population in Australia.

And in between that 72 year gap between 1812 and 1884, there were so many instances of the First Nations people giving vital and essential pieces of information on correctly identifying the features and habits of this land mammal as European Scientists had a massive meltdown and argument over whether an animal they'd Never Seen Alive gave milk or not.

Hell, Charles Darwin made the trip to Australia, and was inspired by animals like the Platypus to start questioning whether all life was truly static and didn't transition or adapt to changing circumstances.

The platypus made Charles Darwin start questioning his beliefs in Creationism, and going on to begin his steps towards the theory of evolution.

And then there's Harry Burrell, who had the bright idea of like, not killing specimens every time someone wanted to see it up close. He was one of the first recorded people to try and keep platypuses in captivity, and thoroughly learn their preferred lifestyle, diet and breeding habits from careful observation. He would learn how to make platypuses Comfortable, and how to transport them safely.

His protege, David Fleay (pictured below), would go on to ensure the first successfully bred platypus in captivity - 'Corrie' (born to parents Jack and Jill).

what I'm saying is, the story of trying to Classify the Platypus ends in "Nature is just fucking weird, we're going to try understanding it as best we can, and maybe we should ask and respect the opinions of the people who have lived alongside something we don't understand for thousands of years."

The platypus is literally referred to by Mervyn Griffiths, an authority on monotremes, "The animal of all time."

Anyway, in summary: - Colonialism fucking sucks and Sovereignty was never ceded.

- The Platypus is an Amazing Creature and sorta Toppled Creationism in the scientific community??

[thehopefuljournalist]

weird question, but do you know if regenerative agriculture is growing, and by what rate? it's important to me but looking for articles on my own can trigger a panic attack :[ no worries if not !

Hey! Thank you so much for asking. Honestly, agriculture and sustainable agriculture specifically are very close to my heart as well, so I was glad for the excuse to do some research :) 

Also, thank you for your patience, I know you sent this Ask a bit ago. It’s good that you’re listening to yourself and not going around searching for things that might cause you harm, so thanks again for reaching out!

So, what is regenerative agriculture? 

Regenerative agriculture is a way of farming that focuses on soil health. When soil is healthy, it produces more food and nutrition, stores more carbon and increases biodiversity – the variety of species. Healthy soil supports other water, land and air environments and ecosystems through natural processes including water drainage and pollination – the fertilization of plants.

Regenerative agriculture is a defining term for sustainability in our food system - while there is no one true definition of regenerative agriculture, the concept has been around for centuries, taking root in Indigenous growing practices. Regenerative approaches can bolster soil health and watershed health. They can also add to climate mitigation and potentially tie into regulatory or commercial incentives for a more sustainable diet. 

Regenerative farming methods include minimizing the ploughing of land. This keeps CO2 in the soil, improves its water absorbency and leaves vital fungal communities in the earth undisturbed.

Rotating crops to vary the types of crop planted improves biodiversity, while using animal manure and compost helps to return nutrients to the soil. 

Continuously grazing animals on the same piece of land can also degrade soil, explains the Regenerative agriculture in Europe report from the European Academies’ Science Advisory Council. So regenerative agriculture methods include moving grazing animals to different pastures.

How can it help?

Regenerative farming can improve crop yields – the volume of crops produced – by improving the health of soil and its ability to retain water, as well as reducing soil erosion. If regenerative farming was implemented in Africa, crop yields could rise 13% by 2040 and up to 40% in the future, according to a Regenerative Farming in Africa report by conservation organization the International Union for Conservation of Nature and the UN.

Regenerative farming can also reduce emissions from agriculture and turn the croplands and pastures, which cover up to 40% of Earth’s ice-free land area, into carbon sinks. These are environments that naturally absorb CO2 from the atmosphere, according to climate solutions organization Project Drawdown.

5 ways to scale regenerative agriculture:

1. Agree on common metrics for environmental outcomes. Today, there are many disparate efforts to define and measure environmental outcomes. We must move to a set of metrics adopted by the whole food industry, making it easier for farmers to adjust their practices and for positive changes to be rewarded. 2. Build farmers’ income from environmental outcomes such as carbon reduction and removal. We need a well-functioning market with a credible system of payments for environmental outcomes, trusted by buyers and sellers, that creates a new, durable, income stream for farmers. 3. Create mechanisms to share the cost of transition with farmers. Today, all the risk and cost sits with the farmers. 4. Ensure government policy enables and rewards farmers for transition. Too many government policies are in fact supporting the status quo of farming. The food sector must come together and work jointly with regulators to address this. 5. Develop new sourcing models to spread the cost of transition. We must move from sourcing models that take crops from anywhere to models that involve collaboration between off-takers from different sectors to take crops from areas converting to regenerative farming.

The rise of regenerative agriculture

In 2019, General Mills, the manufacturer of Cheerios, Yoplait and Annie’s Mac and Cheese (among other products), announced it would begin sourcing a portion of its corn, wheat, dairy and sugar from farmers who were engaged in regenerative agriculture practices and committed to advancing the practice of regenerative agriculture on one million acres of land by 2030. In early 2020, Whole Foods announced regenerative agriculture would be the No. 1 food trend and, in spite of the pandemic and the rapid growth of online shopping overshadowing the trend, business interest in the field still spiked by 138%. 

More recently, PepsiCo announced it was adopting regenerative agriculture practices among 7 million acres of its farmland. Cargill declared it intends to do the same on 10 million acres by 2030, and Walmart has committed to advancing the practice on 50 million acres. Other companies pursuing regenerative agriculture include Danone, Unilever, Hormel, Target and Land O’ Lakes.

According to Nielsen, 75% of millennials are altering their buying habits with the environment in mind. This sentiment, of course, does not always materialize into tangible actions on behalf of every consumer. However, it is clear from the actions of PepsiCo, General Mills, Walmart, Unilever and others that they believe consumers’ expectations of what is environmentally friendly are shifting and that they will soon be looking to purchase regeneratively-produced foods because of the many benefits they produce.

The next step in the transition to regenerative agriculture is certification. The goal is to create labeling that will allow the consumer to connect to the full suite of their values. Some companies are partnering with nonprofit conveners and certifiers. The Savory Institute is one such partner, convening producers and brands around regenerative agriculture and more holistic land management practices.

In 2020, the Savory Institute granted its first “Ecological OutCome Verification (EOV) seal to Epic’s latest high protein bars by certifying that its featured beef was raised with regenerative agriculture practices. 

The program was developed to let the land speak for itself by showing improvement through both leading and lagging functions such as plant diversity and water holding capacity. There are now thousands of products that have been Land to Market verified, with over 80 brand partnerships with companies such as Epic Provisions, Eileen Fisher and Applegate.  Daily Harvest is giving growers in that space three-year contracts as well as markets and price premiums for the transitional crop. It's focusing on that transitional organic process as a stepping stone toward a regenerative organic food system.

Daily Harvest’s Almond Project creates an alliance with the Savory Institute and a group of stakeholders - including Simple Mills and Cappello’s - to bring regenerative practices to almonds in the Central Valley of California.

These companies are working with Treehouse California Almonds, their shared almond supplier, to lead soil health research on 160 acres of farmland. Over five years, the Project will focus on measuring outcomes around the ecosystem and soil health of regenerative practices – comparing those side by side with neighboring conventional baselines.

“We need industry partnership; we need pre-competitive collaboration,” says Rebecca Gildiner, Director of Sustainability at Daily Harvest, of the Almond Project. “Sustainability cannot be competitive. We are all sharing suppliers, we are all sharing supply – rising tides truly lift all boats. The industry has to understand our responsibility in investing, where historically investments have disproportionately focused on yields with a sole focus of feeding the world. We know this has been critical in the past but it has overlooked other forms of capital, other than financial. We need to look towards experimenting in holistic systems that have other outcomes than yield and profit - instead of saying organic can’t feed the world, we have to invest in figuring out how organic can feed the world because it’s critical.”

////

In short!!!

Many articles are stating regenerative agriculture as a defining, and rising “buzz word” in the industry. It seems that consumers are becoming more and more aware and are demanding more sustainable approaches to agriculture. 

We, of course, have a way to go, but it seems from the data that I’ve gathered, that regenerative agriculture is, in fact, on the rise. Demand is rising, and many are working on ways to globalize those methods.

Source Source Source Source

[u-mspcoll]

Obesity: The Science, Culture, and Politics of Fatness in America 

In Fall 2023, students enrolled in Dr. Margot Finn's course on the science, culture, and politics of obesity worked in groups to research and write captions for food history materials.

Most of these items were from the Special Collections Research Center's Janice Bluestein Longone Culinary Archive.

These were featured on the Shapiro Library Screens in Bert's Study Lounge.

M. L. Holbrook, Eating for Strength (New York, M. L. Holbrook & co. [c1888]). Library of Congress. 

The 1888 edition of Eating for Strength, a popular 19th century work on diet written by Martin Luther Holbrook approaches food in a scientific manner, outlining the dietary needs of various classes of people and looking at the healthfulness of various foods. This book includes information about food and diet in relation to health and work, together with several hundred recipes for different foods and drinks. All of these tables illustrate the protein, carbohydrate, and fat content of some of the most common foods that characterized the diets of that era. This underscores how even over 100 years ago, these three macronutrients were seen as important to monitor in order to curb obesity.

Keeping Your Weight Down (Westfield, N.Y. : Welch Grape Juice Co., [1921?]). Janie Bluestein Longone Culinary Archive.

Published by Welch Juice Company in 1921, this recipe book called Keeping Your Weight Down suggests that Welch's Grape Juice can aid in weight maintenance, and emphasizes its importance in influencing desired health benefits with their beverage. The monochrome-purple book cover showcases an idealized “thin” model covered in loose night clothing, examining a weight scale. Inside, “Pudding and Desserts” recipes are listed in sections with the usage of Welch brand ingredients. Framing grapes as dessert, often eliminated in dieting practices, allows for the luxury of sweets within the strictures of losing weight.

Ruth West, Stop Dieting! Start Losing! (New York : E.P. Dutton & Company, Inc., 1956.). Janice Bluestein Longone Culinary Archive. 

Although Ruth West’s Stop Dieting! Start Losing! was a dieting recipe book published in 1956, the artifact has a startling resemblance to modern attitudes about weight, despite the huge body of research conducted on obesity since this time. Today, It’s easy to laugh at slogans like “how to lose 2 to 3 pounds a week” and “16 foods for sex appeal and vitality,” but how different are these claims from those we hear today from diet magazines, social media and even our own medical professionals? Is the rigor of evidence from then to now all that different? 

Read more!

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - May 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Support me on Ko-fi! Also, if you tip me on Ko-fi, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week - almost double the content!

1. New study says conservation works, providing hope for biodiversity efforts

“A new study published in Science reveals that conservation works, with conservation actions improving or slowing the decline of biodiversity in two-thirds of the cases analyzed.”

2. Monk Seal Pup Debuts in Waikīkī on Lei Day

“Endangered Hawaiian monk seal RK96 (Kaiwi) gave birth to her sixth pup on popular Kaimana Beach in Waikīkī, Oʻahu! […] Hawaiian monk seals are one of the most endangered seal species in the world, so each pup represents hope for the species’ recovery.”

3. West Coast Indigenous-led marine conservation area gets global spotlight

“A coastal First Nation is celebrating global recognition of its marine protected area after recently snagging a “blue park” designation that highlights exemplary ocean conservation efforts around the world. […] Kitasu Bay supports one of the last abundant herring spawns along the central coast, vital to the nation’s communal herring roe on kelp (ROK) fishery - which harvests the protein-rich eggs but leaves the fish alive to flourish and spawn again.”

4. The number of fish on US overfishing list reaches an all-time low. Mackerel and snapper recover

“The report states that 94% of fish stocks are not subject to overfishing, which is slightly better than a year ago. The U.S. was able to remove several important fish stocks from the overfishing list, NOAA said in a statement. […] The removal of species from the overfishing list shows the U.S. is making progress, said Rick Spinrad, NOAA’s administrator.”

5. Researchers Collaborate with the Shipping Industry to Cut Costs, Fuel Consumption and Greenhouse Gas Emissions in Shipping

“Through coordinated ship scheduling and an optimisation of ship operations and port services, the objective is to achieve a substantial increase in energy efficiency and a 10-20% reduction in fuel consumption, consequently resulting in lowered greenhouse gas emissions [and] leading to substantial economic benefits for shipping and environmental advantages for society[….]”

6. The city flower farm that is changing lives

“Heart of BS13 Flowers in Hartcliffe is part of the wider Heart of BS13 charity which tackles food insecurity in south Bristol. Profits from the flower sales to run workshops, offer volunteer and trainee placements, and create education opportunities for people from Hartcliffe.”

7. Four falcon chicks hatch in Glasgow university tower

“Members of the [Glasgow Peregrine] project hope to […] fit [the chicks] with electronic tags that will enable monitoring of their movements. Mr Simpson added: "With the identification tags we can see where they have gone, how high they fly and other information that would be really useful." In recent years the group have held peregrine watches at the university, allowing people to see the birds in their nest.”

8. 'Banana pingers' are saving whales and dolphins around the world

“[T]he Kibel brothers, Pete (a fisheries biologist) and Ben (an engineer) […] have been utilising light to protect turtles, sound to protect porpoises and electro pulses to protect sharks. [… Trials] showed reduced average catch rates of blue shark by 91%, and catch rates of pelagic stingray by 71% […as well as] a fall in the number of sea turtles being trapped by 42%.”

9. New vaccine effective against coronaviruses that haven't even emerged yet

“Researchers have developed a new vaccine technology that has been shown in mice to provide protection against a broad range of coronaviruses with potential for future disease outbreaks -- including ones we don't even know about. […] The new vaccine works by training the body's immune system to recognise specific regions of eight different coronaviruses, including SARS-CoV-1, SARS-CoV-2, and several that are currently circulating in bats and have potential to jump to humans and cause a pandemic.”

10. Grassland birds, Forest birds and Other Migratory Birds to Benefit from More Than $22 Million in Funding Throughout the Americas

“This year, more than $4.87 million in federal funds will be matched by more than $17 million in partner contributions going to 30 collaborative conservation projects in 19 countries across the Americas. “These investments will [… protect] millions of acres of diverse habitats needed by grassland birds, forest birds and shorebirds for wintering, breeding and migration,” said Service Director Martha Williams.”

April 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: Ironsworn/Starforged Hacks

This week’s recommendations are all inspired by Ironsworn, by Shawn Tomkin, or Starforged, its science-fantasy successor.

Inspired by PbtA games, Ironsworn stands out because it can be played solo, GM-less, or as a traditional roleplaying game - and the PDF of the rulebook, a work of stellar quality, is free. It uses unique mechanics such as Vows, Momentum, and Supply to support play - Vows being personal goals that drive the character’s story and generate progression, Momentum being an asset that can be used to track your character’s general level level of success, and Supply being a representation of how prepared or energetic your characters are.

While Ironsworn is a game of fantasy adventuring, Starforged takes cues from space fiction and science fantasy, and comes with unique character pieces and a planet generator.

Let’s take a look at some of the hacks created out of these games!

Iron Valley, by M. Kirin.

Iron Valley is a cozy solo ttrpg hack for Ironsworn and Starforged.

In this game you take the role of someone moving into a small community and starting their life anew. Maybe you’ll restore your family’s farm. Maybe you’ll explore the mysterious forest just beyond town. Maybe you’ll fall in love and get married! This is a game about living a cozy life with good company, one day at a time.

As a farming simulation, this is a great example of a cozy game. Follow the course of a year, making a new home for yourself using a simplified version of Ironsworn. Fundamentally, the game revolves around the promises you make to your friends, losing track of time instead of hit points. 

This is a chunky game that takes some set-up, that a single can play over many days or weeks. It’s something that requires a bit of work to put together, but you can pick it up a little bit at a time if you’re looking for sustained play, and you don’t have to work with a group to try and schedule game time.

Stonebound, by S0ra.

The Dawnlands are filled with various groups of palaeolithic humans, all trying their best to survive in this prehistoric world, where they are far from the top of the food chain.

You are not like them.

You will venture forth from your home, rise up and challenge the monstrous creatures who roam this land, discover secrets better left forgotten, protect your people from the feral horrors that rise in the night, bind your will and your word to the sacred stone of this land and become Stonebound.

This isn’t much of a departure from the original Ironsworn: the author describes it as a re-skin, with new assets and foes to make the system fit in a stone-and-sorcery kind of setting. The game is still in development, so changes might continue being added, but the game is Pay What You Want for now! In Stonebound, stone replaces iron as the way by which you make vows, and as a result stone becomes a vital part of the landscape. If you really like the way Ironsworn plays but are interested to see how it looks in a new setting, you might want to check this game out.

Cybersworn, by Homebrewster, and Hyper City, by Thomas Manuel.

You’ll need to know how Ironsworn or Starforged works in order to play these hacks. Cybersworn is meant to fit a number of different flavours of cyberpunk; from high-magic settings, to low-magic settings, to settings with cyborgs or a virtual other space. It provides new pieces to slot into the basic ruleset to make the game neon and gritty. And just like Ironsworn, this game is free!

Hyper City is a specific corporate dystopia that you build based on a real city that you’re interested in. It uses Burning Questions rather than Iron Vows, it provides a mode of play that focuses on investigation and exploration, rather than action and adventure. Hyper City is also designed to be played “solo together,” as described by the designer. Each player is playing their own solo journey, but their characters can interact with each-other via messaging apps or something similar to trade information and give each-other updates. 

These games aren’t designed to necessarily be played together, but since they’re built for the same system, it’s likely easy to steal a little from one to place into the other. If you’re into cyberpunk and building your own city, these might be worth checking out!

Silversworn, by fyret.

This is a hack about being a werewolf (possibly in space). It is a hack about rage and trying your best to hide it. It is a hack about finding what lengths you'll go to keep the beast inside, and what carnage you'll bring when it is unleashed. 

This game specifically alters the rules of Ironsworn to allow you to play as a werewolf character. One of the basic moves, Face Desolation, is replaced by Face Rampage, which is meant to replicate your struggle to keep your human form. Apart from mechanical changes, this hack comes with some tips about playing as a werewolf, especially when you’ve transformed. The game also comes with a new series of Truths and Assets, to help you build the world you want, whether you want to tell a story within the fantasy world of Ironsworn, or the galaxy of Starforged.

--

If you want to see more genre hacks of these games, I’d recommend checking out the Starforged 2023 Jam on Itch.io. 

[flock-talk]

Transparency With Parrot Food Manufacturers

There's been a significant rise in the expectation of transparency between pet food manufacturers and the general public. Dog food manufacturers, for example; have AAFCO, feeding trials, and an array of nutrient digestibility charts, base nutrient expectations, and sanitary guidelines to follow which a lot of brands then openly share with the public. These standards help pet parents make more active choices in what they feed their pets, tailor their pets diet to meet their individual needs, trust that their food meets a base line of nutrition, and that the food was produced in a sanitary manner. The dog food industry is far from perfect and even these regulations have their flaws and the tests aren't without fault but it is a good base for us to compare to when we're trying to sort out what we want from other pet food manufacturers. In this case I'm focusing on parrot pellet manufacturers.

I had a few different goals heading in to this.

I wanted to see how transparent pellet manufacturers would be with sharing information that is common to ask dog food manufacturers (information is not confidential, revealing formulas, secrets, etc.)

The availability of nutrient analysis charts (breakdowns of how much of each nutrient is in their pellets)

What standards parrot food manufacturers held themselves to

If any feeding trials were performed on their pellets

And to preface this with my own bias, I am pro-pellet, I currently feed pellets.

Before we get too deep in to this let's break things down a bit.

As it stands there really aren't any regulating bodies above parrot food manufacturers as far as I could find. There doesn't seem to be much of any standards when it comes to their sanitization or product quality, the best you get is the FDA/ CFIA which basically just make sure a food isn't outright toxic. As it stands there haven't been enough studies done on parrot nutrition for there to be a governing body stating what the minimum nutrient requirements are for parrot food, we simply do not actually know what those requirements are yet so there cannot be a set standard for it. This unfortunately leaves us open to a lot of problems, if there's no nutritional requirements and no standardized testing then we're really just putting a lot of trust in to a company that wants to turn a profit. We're hoping that the food that says it's nutritionally complete is what it says with no evidence to show for it, and no science to confirm it.

So with that said no parrot food can actually claim to be "100% nutritionally complete", we do not know what nutritionally complete looks like for parrots, there is no science to back up those claims.

So I set out and emailed every parrot pellet manufacturer I could think of and asked them the some questions.

"Does your company do feeding trials? If so, is that data available to the public anywhere?"

"Do you have a nutrient profile available?"

Feeding trials are very simply a test where you feed a set of animals exclusively one diet and then monitor them to see if the food is capable of providing the base essential nutrients needed to live. Usually they do blood work, urine and fecal alongside regular physical exams to monitor things like nutritional deficiency, ailments, and nutrient digestibility. This helps show that a food is capable of providing what the target animal needs to survive without causing health problems and provides vital information on what amount of vitamins/ minerals in the produced food are actually being digested and absorbed. These tests are common among well-known dog food companies and most are more than willing to share that data to give their consumers peace of mind with easy transparency.

And let me tell you I am beyond disappointed at what happened when I asked parrot food manufacturers the exact same thing.

TOPs: No nutrient profile listed on the website, does have a detailed breakdown of why every single ingredient was added though. Happily discloses that parrot nutritional science doesn't have all the data to claim any food as 100% nutritionally complete and advises for the feeding of fresh foods in addition to their food, didn't specify exactly how much of each to maintain optimal nutrition.

I emailed them three times and never got a response back from any of them.

Harrisons: Does say you can feed 20% vegetables by weight while the pellet should be 75%, has an easily available nutrient analysis on their website.

also emailed three times with no response back.

Caitec: no nutritional analysis listed on their main website, website did not state how they want their product to be fed, product packaging states that veggies should be a treat/ addition and lists the pellet as a "complete diet".

emailed three times with no response back.

Lafeber: Primarily promotes mixed seed and pellet formulas, doesn't state any risks of parrot's selective consumption (study on that problem), does promote the feeding of fresh produce in conjunction with their formulas at 20% of the diet, no nutrient analysis on their website.

emailed three times with no response back.

Zupreem (Compana Pet Brands): did respond back but they phrased their response in a way to dance around the subject, after some pushing they confirmed they do not do feeding trials. Encourages use of fresh foods with their formula, at least 60% pelleted diet recommended. Had an extremely small nutrient profile that just skipped over the important nutrient requirements like the Ca:Ph. I asked for a nutrient profile which they did not want to provide but were able to tell me that the naturals pellets have 0.59% calcium

Roudybush: Says fresh foods can be fed but "as a minor part of the diet", does say that science doesn't have enough information to make a product tailored to each species of bird, did make changes to their formula recently to remove menadione in favour of alfalfa due to it's potential toxicity. does seem to be evolving as science progresses. Ingredients list wasn't listed on the website, nor was a nutrient profile.

did not reply to any emails.

Tropican (HARI): I was hopeful for this one by the way their website boasts about their feeding trials and research. So so hopeful.

Talks about doing feeding trials openly on their website, recommends 70% pellet to 30% fresh foods (by caloric content not weight) but mentioned that their birds eat 100% pellets. Easily accessible albeit basic nutrient profile but it covers the main things.

After my email Mr. Hagen actually ended up calling me and what I was hoping would be a motivating call ended up being very hostile. Whenever I asked questions about data or results of a feeding trial I was immediately shut down, the topic was changed, I was interrupted mid-sentence over and over again. I was able to get small tidbits of info that were as vague as "we've fed multiple generations of birds on this food" and "we do annual weigh-ins". He would casually mention data from a study he had done but then dart away if I asked for the name of the study so I could read it later. It was an extremely off-putting phone call. Completely unwilling to say how many birds were in a trial, how many years the trial went on for, if there was bloodwork or nutrient digestibility charts, nothing at all. He also casually mentioned that once the birds are old enough they get sold to stores which was very unnerving to me.

So I guess they maybe do legitimate feeding trials but they will under no circumstances offer that data to the public? I don't know. They wouldn’t provide any published articles or data to actually prove that the trials exist and I will definitely not be contacting them again to find out. They suggested I was trying to steal their formula and lying about my identity. I'm not going to try to get a simple answer out of them again.

Mazuri: recommends 20% fresh foods 75% pellets, nutrient profile available on the website.

did not reply to any emails.

Pretty Bird: Does not do feeding trials, prompt to reply, at least knew what a feeding trial was. Couldn't find feeding recommendations on the website, no nutrient profile aside from the generic guaranteed analysis having a few add-ons but still skipping on the important nutrients you'd want to know about.

Kaytee: Did not know what a Feeding Trial was. Thought I wanted samples and offered me a coupon. I had to explain to this animal food manufacturer what a feeding trial was. Unsurprisingly they do not do feeding trials. Website had no listing of a nutrient analysis. Recommended 70-90% pellets to some fresh foods. In their own published article they went over how damaging seed diets are for parrots but then they also sell seed-only diets with the ingredients they were specifically bashing in their own article. When I asked for a nutrient profile this is what I was given:

"Nutrient levels are calculated based on ingredient data, feed compendium tables and direct diet analysis. Actual levels may vary slightly due to ingredient and analytical variation."

Kaytee exact naturals cockatiel pellet:

"0.4% Calcium 0.2% Available Phosphorus (non-phytate P) 0.1% Magnesium 120 ppm Zinc 140 ppm Iron 700 IU/kg Vitamin D3"

and that's just extremely limited information. I'm glad they were willing to provide something but in comparison to some of the others it's just not a lot of data.

Psittacus: advises for the use of grit in parrots, recommends 100% pellets but says you can feed a minimum of 70% to make room for fresh foods. Their response to feeding trails was really vague: "our products have been evaluated and tested in our centre as well as collaborating centres. This information is for internal use and it is not published anywhere". Wouldn't say what tests were done or elaborate further than that in any way. I then inquired for a detailed nutrient analysis chart saying that Mia's calcium has been a bit of a struggle (since it has been), curious if their brand may have more calcium than the ones Im using now to help her out to which they replied with "our food contains the calcium levels appropriate for him/her". (you literally cannot say that, you haven't run tests on my bird, you haven't worked with my vet regarding my bird, you cannot guarantee a blanket statement like that.). They did offer me a link to this catalogue which has more detailed info on their pellets production and a more thorough nutrient analysis chart.

I am shocked by the responses I received. I am disappointed in parrot food manufacturers. I am frustrated with parrot food regulations.

I knew I wouldn't get much out of these emails since the standards for parrot food are so low but the amount of companies that just pretended not to get my emails or didn't even know what a feeding trial was is ridiculous. The amount of companies that were making claims that science can't back up, or making claims that science actually disagrees with is astounding.

The complete lack of transparency is terrifying.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Why You Should Never Mix Hand Sanitizer Brands:

Sometimes that last bit of hand sanitizer won't come out of the bottle and goes to waste, so many will pour it into the next bottle. This can be okay with the same hand sanitizer brand, but mixing brands with different compositions can cause skin irritants such as SQEFTS to develop and worse. Take for example, what happens when you mix Purell with Germ-X:

Purell is mostly alcohol and glycerine, but also contains Isopropyl Myristate, Tocopheryl Acetate, and most importantly, Caprylyl Glycol. Caprylyl Glycol is mostly harmless on its own, but when mixed with Maltodextrin (an ingredient in Germ-X) something disturbing can happen and it takes some degree of historical explanation.

Maltodextrin was invented on the island of Malta in 1594 by Caterina Vitale as a means to enhance the dexterity of the Knights Templar, who rated high in charisma and strength, but low in dexterity. Maltodextrin gave them well over +3 in that regard and was added to most of their food.

The Knights Templar were, at the time, engaged in a war with the Caprylylian Order from the Vatican. The Caprylylian Order swore to destroy not only the knights, but anyone or anything who would help them fight. This included not only Vitale, but her invention itself- Maltodextrin. So the Caprylylian's famed physicist Enrico Fermi (no relation) developed a compound that would combat the effects of Maltodextrin: Caprylyl Glycol.

Much like the ancient royalty that oversaw these events and developments, the actual science of their chemical interactions also has rules and procedures. Caprylyl Glycol is known as a "royal particle" due to its possession of a Benzene Ring, which can ionize the Alicyclic Rings of Maltodextrin. The Benzene Ring can in fact control the reactions of up to 20 Alicyclic Rings. Maltodextrin is composed of 19 Alicyclic Rings: 3 for the Enolates, 7 for the Alkalides, and 9, Nine Alicyclic Rings for the Actinides, which above all are highly reactive with halogens and chalcogens.

But still, a single Benzene Ring can attract them, and in certain conditions, bind them. Or so the reaction would have been, had it not been for another royal particle in Maltodextrin itself- Elendilium. Now, components of Elendilium have a weak bond on their own, but they can, given the energy from the reaction with Benzene, donate an electron to any accompanying Anion or Anarion. Most importantly they can do so for Isildurium, and that is exactly what happens. It is in this reaction that Isildurium picks up its father particle's ion and bonds with the Benzene Ring itself. It could have ended there, but the compound would prove unable to get abandon that Benzene Ring, and there, trouble began.

So it was that upon contact, the two sanitizer molecules would annihilate each other and produce a toxin, in Italy known as the "Sterquilinium Quod Erit Fornicatus Tuum Sursum," or "SQEFTS," which will cause skin irritation in humans, but far more important is the war of the molecules. Because truly, isn't there enough misery in the world without mixing hand sanitizers? Isn't there enough sadness, darkness in this day and age?

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. There is still good in this world, and it’s worth sanitizing your hands for.

(Seriously though don’t mix brands because that can really produce irritants and give off fumes, just a bit of reality here, sorry)

[strayheartless]

To your Mountain Kid/Jungle Kid HC, I bet Zack and Cloud bond over not being such nErDs as AGS (affectionately).

Genesis' parents probably raised him on the classics, emphasizing education and achievement over everything.

Gillian was a whole Shinra scientist, and probably raised Angeal with all the knowledge she could provide, because education is often vital to escaping poverty. And because she's a nerd.

Sephiroth "Lab Experiment" Crescent...no further commentary needed.

Any funny scenes of ZC vs the AGS nerds?

❤️

Cloud and Zack Bond over superstitions that are somewhat similar between Gongaga and Nibelhiem. They find out that both Villiages have similar superstitions surrounding Shoes. In Gongaga its bad luck to put new Shoes on the table; while in Nibelhiem its Bad luck to leave shoe's on the table and extra bad luck if one of them falls off the table.

They also bond over the Cryptids that live in their respective woods, and AGS are forever horrified when Cloud goes into great detail about the Nibelhiem not-possom, which is infinatly more fucked up than anything they have ever heard. Zack then tells them about the Gongaga Frog man and its game over, no one can sleep.

Cloud once cussed Angeal out for stiring a pot anti clockwise. He then proceeded to tap every potato against the side board until Angeal saked him why and Cloud looked at him like he'd lost dang his mind as he replied "does Banora not have Potato mites??"... Angeal then goes on a three day Moogle rabbit hole to find out what the hell potato mites are and why Nibelhiem is effected by them so badly.

Cloud and Zack once had a fight with Sephiroth over the scientific likelyhood of world events being predicted by sparrow/parrot bones. It got so heated Zack (not Cloud) threw a lightning spell at his head. They are no longer allowed to apply science to country boy religious practices.

Cloud once slapped Genesis square in the face for rocking an empty rocking chair.

While on mission in Modaohiem during their first few weeks as mentor and student, Angeal started whistling in the dark, and Zack nearl had ten blue fits on him.

Angeal grew up never wasting food, but he has to sit and marvel at how far Cloud takes 'waste not, want not' as a mantra. It's round about the time that Cloud not only makes soup, but also makes fertiliser for Angeals plants that Angeal realises he knows nothing.

Sephiroth nearly lost his mind when he found out that both Zack and Cloud take their paychecks in hard cash and don't trust the banks. Like he legitimately couldn't fathom why they wouldn't have bank accounts, or debit cards.

Genesis thought he knew everything there was to know about ancient literature, But Cloud and Zack both know word of mouth Stories that he has NEVER heard before and has been told on pain of death that if he writes them down, no one will ever find his body.

Sephiroth is pretty no nonsense about most of the boys superstitions, but even he has to admit that when it comes to weather prediction on missions, Cloud is usually right.

There was one very memorable time in Nibelhiem, when They all got sent out for mushrooms for dinner, and Angeal 'plant expert' Hewely swore blind he knew the differences between mushrooms, only to have Cloud save him three seperate times from eating death caps.

Cloud once threw Salt in Sephiroths face after he heared he'd been down to the old train yard (you know the one with the ghosts).

Genesis met Claudia strife while on mission in Nibelhiem once and she thought he was a Cryptid trying to lure her into the woods. she slapped him. why do people keep slapping him?!

[yallemagne]

JACK YOU'RE FUCKING SCARING ME. Holy goddamn shit like dude. DUDE!!

He gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later steps? It would almost be worthwhile to complete the experiment. It might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect—the knowledge of the brain? Had I even the secret of one such mind—did I hold the key to the fancy of even one lunatic—I might advance my own branch of science to a pitch compared with which Burdon-Sanderson's physiology or Ferrier's brain-knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally? How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work! If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there—a good, unselfish cause to make me work—that would be indeed happiness.

I just gotta throw all this down here. I cannot cope with how much Jack sounds like he's having his Joker moment. You know how every adaptation of Frankenstein and J&H is like "he was a visionary that went against the board to do the impossible for glory" (which, mind you, didn't even happen in those books)... but imagine if that turn was taken here...

Jonathan Sims manages to make Jack sound like he's almost completely on board with letting Renfield manufacture his food chain up to the point he would begin consuming humans. Not only is he saying: "If there were a good cause to experimenting on Renfield, only then would I do it" he is crying to the heavens: "Oh! Let there be a good cause!" Sir, please, I can't defend you when the authorities come and arrest you for acting upon your thoughts of grandeur. Thank god he does not have a good cause.

AND THE CHILLS!! THe CHILLS WHEN HE MENTIONS LUCY. Specifically in the context of, "Well, she was my one hope. With no wife, I only have my work to attend to... Work being obsessing heavily over this old man and fantasizing about letting him eat me." His tone of voice does NOT change he continues in his maniacal tone. Sounds like a saddened "Oh Lucy... you'll be one of the ones I spare in my pursuit of world domination" rather than... normal sadness over being rejected.

In the wake of this... I kinda wanna post about an AU I thought about a while back.