#all i need to do is remove the equipment and add descriptions for when you hover over a gem in the inventory

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than life

Ah, but I only exist BECAUSE of life! And you can only see me THROUGH life. Can a creation be greater than its creator? Can something be better than the medium through which it must be experienced? idk, but my blocks are going strong!

[the-mandawhor1an]

Just a scratch - Din Djarin x Reader drabble

Summary: Life as the assistant in a droid-operated doctor’s office isn't eventful. That is, unless a certain frequent visitor ends up in your capable hands again. This time he’s in for a bit more than just some bacta  Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI! brief description of wounds, some Mando���a (translation at the end), no face reveal (sorry!), allusion to sexytime A/N: This was fun! This little drabble is for @janaispunk’s 1500 follower celebration. The prompt was “neck kisses” and our boy Din – I decided to play around with a younger Din and the prompt basically screamed for an inner conflict about his oath (His age isn't mentioned but in my head he's in his 20s here) Fun fact, the actual fic part is exactly 1500 words. Unbeta'd, be nice 🙏

It is a slow day today, boring even.

So boring that you decide to clean the reception, dust off the high-shine furniture while listening to the low hum of all the equipment in the adjacent room. Your name badge rustles with every swipe of your arm. The light above you flickers. It is late in the evening, close to the end of your shift. 

To be quite frank, you like it like this. 

Empty. Peaceful. Tranquil.

Working in a doctor’s office, you’re regularly presented with emergencies that drain your energy quickly. Yes, the actual healing is mostly done by droids, but you occasionally have to lend a hand. Some people don’t trust droids. Or they are scared so you end up taking care of them.  

You understand to a degree. Sometimes the ‘doctor’ malfunctions and it’s your job to make sure it doesn’t harm the patients. And – because of your regular maintenance, you’d like to think – nothing has ever happened since you started your job here. Basically you are both a mechanic and the receptionist. And, well, the healer for certain patients that under no circumstance want a droid near them.

Such as the Mandalorian who has visited the office quite often now. In fact, you’re sure he deliberately stays close to the space port just to make sure he can see you when he is injured. 

He never really talks much until you start your process. He likes to tell you about where his injuries come from. He’s a bounty hunter, that much you have figured out by yourself. Most of his wounds aren’t threatening to his health, scratches, bruises, an occasional concussion. 

Today is no different. Just as you are about to take off your name tag, the door opens and he stumbles in. You’re familiar with the sound of his steps and take no time to get the med droid out of the exam room. 

He plops down on the table and starts removing his cape. 

“Well, what do we have this time?”

You don’t even need an answer. The hole ripped into the flight suit and the dark stain on his shoulder says enough. “Got bitten,” he states. With your head slightly tilted, you ask “You got bitten?”  The helmet halts for a second, staring at you. He said what he said. 

“May I?” you ask, offering a hand in taking off the metal plates that have to come off before you can tend to his wound. He nods and you carefully detach the shoulder plates. He hisses underneath the helmet. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. Placing the armor parts gently on the table next to him, you watch him take his gloves off. The gauntlets follow, as does the chest plate. His fingers feel for the closure of his vest. “Let me get some Bacta while you’re busy,” you stumble when you realize you’ve been staring at him for a while.

“I need you to take the shirt off as well…” you add as you’re already halfway in the storage to get equipment and hide your blushed cheeks. Technically there is enough Bacta in the exam room, but you know he needs privacy. 

The topic of his creed has come up before – when you’ve been treating him for the first time. He had suffered a concussion and you wanted to check his head, but ultimately he refused and explained why. You didn’t understand then, you don’t now, but you don’t have to. You’re just here to make sure he isn’t dying, right? 

When you return, he sits there in all his glory. Broad shoulders, a toned back, a slender waist and that damn helmet on his head. Tan, freckled skin and, rather pleasant to see, there’s no bruises on him this time. You’ve seen it all. The scars, bruises, new, old; scratches, cuts, blaster wounds. But a bite? That’s new. 

With a hand on his wounded shoulder, you take out a small light to see if the wound shows any signs of infection. “I know we usually have a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ agreement but I have to break that this time. How? And was that a bounty?” Again, he hisses as your fingers graze the skin, avoiding your touch by arching his back. “Yes,” he replies. What else would it have been, realistically? An animal? Not here. And certainly not with a bite wound up that high. Or this is a rather unfortunate bedroom accident. 

You take the Bacta and spray it on the bite mark. It’s not too deep luckily. Neither has it hit any larger blood vessel nor are his precious muscles at risk. It probably hurts a lot, but he is used to pain. “Not a human, of course,” he says as the spray starts closing the little marks the teeth of the quarry have left in his flesh. With a damp wipe you wash away the blood on his shoulder, far enough away from the wound that he shouldn’t wince again. But he does. “Fierce warrior, huh? Is it that painful?” You half-mock, but your concern still audible underneath. This isn’t a wound that should hurt. Judging by his behavior, it’s uncomfortable. 

“It’s not. It’s just … you” “Me?” You take a step back to look into that black visor. Sometimes you wonder how he looks like underneath it. If his face is as pretty as you’ve imagined. “I–” he stammers. “I’m not used to being touched. Not so close to the helmet.” 

“Oh,” you let out. It’s not loud by any means but he’s close, so he hears it anyway. “Do you want to wipe your blood off of yourself?” You offer the cloth with an outreached arm. He hesitates, staring at the stained fabric you’re holding towards him. The pain in his shoulder slowly dissipates and the throbbing leaves. “N-no,” he finally says. His voice is low, breathy. You can clearly see that his breathing is more labored. Is he anxious? 

The hand with the rag slowly retreats and you take a moment to process what he says. “Do you want me to–” He nods, so you continue wiping away the blood. The holes in his skin have closed up and now only a set of pink little spots remains. His blood has traveled far down his back and you gulp before slowly moving down with your hand. His skin is warm and you can’t deny that there is suddenly a weird tension between you two. He sits here, watching you touch his exposed skin. You’ve done it before but never so close to his neck. Is he sensitive? As the side of your hand brushes against his neck, he flinches. You do it again and the helmet turns to face you. For a few seconds you stare at each other. 

You’re standing in between his knees, a respectful distance between your bodies otherwise. “I would’ve never guessed that,” you take your unoccupied hand and let your fingertips wander over the other side of his neck. He shivers and exhales sharply. 

He leans into your touch. The beat of his heart is visible, a vein pulsing underneath your index. “Don’t,” he hushes. Don’t what?

You halt the movement of both of your hands. He hesitantly extends one arm and rests his hand on your waist. First you expect him to push you away, but rather than that – he pulls you closer. He straightens his back until you’re almost eye to eye. You know he’s broad, but being so close to him made that abundantly clear.

“Don’t stop,” he pleas. The softness in his voice could melt your heart. The cloth falls onto the table behind him, squelching upon impact with the cold metal surface. Both your hands rest on his skin, drawing small circles on his neck. 

“Can I take that as confirmation you’ve been staying close on purpose?” Again, he nods. “I hope you’re not getting injured on purpose though,” you say with a smirk. A single chuckle emits from underneath the helmet. “I’m not, not any more at least.” you shake your head in amusement. “Could’ve just said something. Ask me out or something.” “And what would we do? I can’t take that helmet off.” 

I have an idea.

Leaning forward, you stroke over his shoulders and down his arms, making way for your lips to brush his shoulder. “Osik,” he curses under his breath. You’ve heard him curse in Mando’a before so your smirk just grows. Your lips travel up his shoulder, until they finally reach his neck. “I mean,” you talk in between kisses, feeling him melt against your chest. “I know something we could do that doesn’t necessarily need the helmet to come off.” On your life, you swear you hear him whimper. The battle-hardened Mandalorian whimpers. Because you offer what he probably has been waiting for for a while now. 

“Would you like that?” You tease. His hand travels down your waist. As it ends by your hip, his second hand joins. “Yeah.” 

_________________________

Osik – shit 

[shimera]

What’s the difference between a tattoo and paint job in WoC?

Oooh that's a good question! Also it took me way too long to answer so uh sorry-- Sorta very long post ahead yea

I think, cars do have a different meanings to the word tattoo since, well, they're cars and they can just repaint whatever they want kind of any time they want to (if they have the money and time, of course). These things won't be just as permanent as tattoos on people, so cars do have more acceptance for the drawings on theirs bodies too (and that's one of the few ways for them to decorate themselves in comparison to humans)

The paint job is basically when the car needs some scratches/dents fixed, or gets a new part, or just wants to change the color of the overall paint, and the thing includes sanding the part down, fixing stuff if necessary and painting it again with plain color.

The "tattoos", though, are much more interesting, so I'll ramble a bit under a cut (no graphics descriptions of human tattooing process there, don't worry, it's just long af)

Now there are different ways to get a "tattoo" on a car: you can get a bunch of decals, you can use stickers or you can have someone do some airbrush painting on you.

Airbrushing, I think, is the most permanent one of the three since to cover THAT up you'll need to sand it all down and most likely get a new paint job for that part because it goes under a layer of varnish just like a regular paint job (I guess, this is the closest to a tattoo thing a car can get). To get the airbrushing done the original layer of varnish is sanded, so the paint could stick to the surface. Next, the picture is painted, and now the new layer of varnish has to be applied on top - so everything stays in place and is all shiny again.

Decals and stickers are the less permanent ones as they can wear down more easily and can be removed without damaging the paint job, also they are much easier to get applied, though, if I remember correctly, you can put a layer of varnish on top of a decal to make it more permanent.

Also there probably are ways for cars to get some bad tattoos like they do in prisons or low quality underground shops in human world, and for that permanent markers, spray paint and regular paint can be used. Even though they are not as permanent as human tattoos made in similar circumstances these methods definitely take place (just as we can see people decorate their cars in real world with markers and spray paint).

Spray paint tattoos are more likely to be associated with an Inexperienced and poor artists who may be making these even for free or for a small fee just to practice or maybe save for a better equipment. Regular paint (like with a brush idk) goes in a similar category, I think.

Also, spray paint would be hard to find in prisons, so most likely the permanent marker "tattoos" will be strongly associated with prison, just like the tattoos with pen ink are in real world (idk how relevant are pen ink tats nowadays but a lot of people live in communities where any low quality tattoo is associated with prisons and criminal stuff). So yea I think it's a fun little detail to add to your car ocs who may have been criminals or have whatever other reason they decided to get themselves "tattooed" this way.

The other method I want to mention is purposely scratching the paint job. This one is the most dangerous for the car because the layers of varnish, paint and primer are protecting the metal from rusting (this is why even with a smallest scratch that managed to make it's way through all the layers the car could rust really bad if you're unlucky enough). Still, I think, this one could take place in some extreme car communities, maybe they could even fill up the scratches with some sort of paint or other materials to make it more visible (like the tattoos in some human cultures where they put the pigments directly into the freshly made wounds, or maybe like scarring). This is probably the least used method, still, it could take place in Cars world.

Uhh well that's what I personally think, and if you maybe have other ideas feel free to add!

[t3acupz]

🩻🤍💉 Brownham Medwhump May 💉🤍🩻

3. “Squeeze my hand”

Will was becoming desperate to remember what Hannibal had done to him when he was experiencing his encephalitis induced loss of time. He knew that somewhere in the wellspring of his mind were all the buried memories that would exonerate him but he just had to dig deeper. Chilton was equally just as frustrated from getting nowhere with Graham. The curt response, and uncouth eye rolls were starting to wear on him. Sensing that the FBI profiler was reaching his limit, the former surgeon suggested a rather unorthodox approach to jog Will’s memory.

“Electroconvulsive therapy,” Chilton announced, puffing up his chest to add emphasis to his brilliant idea.

Will looked up from behind the bars of the cramped iron cage that made him feel like one of his dogs when they were misbehaving. He suppressed a growl that was trying to go up his throat. Seeing Chilton looking so smug while proposing something that would cause Will to experience even more pain than he was already in was enough to make him want to wring his neck.

“Do you really believe that would work?” The question escaped Will’s mouth before he could really consider the consequences of opening Chilton’s version of a Pandora’s box.

The green eyes of the orderly gleamed as he stopped playing with his keychain, and straightened up from leaning against the wall. Matthew was assigned to be one of Will’s personal orderlies. The high-profile serial killer, The Chesapeake Ripper, was right in front of him yet — he wasn’t.

Matthew had read the file on Will Graham every night before switching shifts with the next group of BSCHI orderlies. It was the only time he could read it in peace without someone looking over his shoulder. Graham didn’t fit the description of the cold, heartless cannibal that sadistically murdered his victims. There was a darkness in Will, Matthew saw that clearly, but he wasn’t a monster.

“Brown!” Chilton hollered at the young man across the room. “Prep the ECT equipment. We don’t want to waste the precious daylight hours, Mr. Graham is a very impatient man.”

Will glanced at Matthew, and for the first time since becoming an inmate, made eye contact with him. The blue-gray eyes saw right through Matthew, sending shivers down the younger man’s spine. Matthew nodded at Chilton, and left the room.

After half an hour, Brown returned. “Finally, what took you so long, go cuff Will and bring him, I will meet you in the room.” And with that, Chilton limped away, creating an echo with his cane that seemed to reverberate through the entire building.

“Will it hurt?” Will asked Matthew as he stood with his back to the orderly, waiting for his hands to be bound.

“I’ll give you a muscle relaxer but I won’t lie to you, it hurts like a bitch.”

Will let out a sarcastic laugh, and walked out of the cage. Matthew placed a hand on Will’s arm, and guided him through the winding corridors to the only source of light at the very end of a dark hallway. Once inside, Will saw Chilton standing there, and impatiently tapping the vintage-looking machine.

Matthew removed the handcuffs, and helped Will onto the solid looking bed. The faded leather was worn down at the edges, and as Will placed his head down he realized that it smelled just as bad as it looked.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s true that we haven’t used the Somatics machine in years.” Chilton spoke, careful not to scare Will into changing his mind. “But you’re a special case, and you shall receive the best treatment this fine establishment can provide.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, and looked down at Will. “I’ll now give you two injections, one is a muscle relaxer, and the other will help with anxiety.”

”Just the muscle relaxer,” Will replied, wincing as the first needle pierced the skin, and the muscle relaxer was injected into his cephalon vein. “I need to be able to feel any emotion that could be associated with a memory.”

“Wise choice,” Chilton said while starting the ECT machine. “Let’s continue.” He nodded at Matthew to begin placing the electrodes to Will’s temples.

After Will was strapped down, and all the necessary equipment was attached to his body, he suddenly found himself hyperventilating.

“Mr. Graham, we are moments away from starting your treatment, please get a hold of yourself.” Chilton sighed, finger edging towards the red button.

Matthew leaned close to Will’s face, smelling the faint hint of fevered sweetness coming from the anxious man. “Squeeze my hand.” He whispered softly, placing his hand near Will’s. Will grabbed it, and Matthew felt the jittering, clammy hand grip much harder than he had expected. Matthew bit his lip to ease his own pain, and let Will continue to hold his fingers in a vice grip.

“I will do the countdown,” Licking his lips, Chilton began, “3… 2… 1–”

120 volts passed through Will’s brain, lighting up his neurons, and causing a generalized seizure. Matthew felt Will’s hand loosen as he lost control of his senses. His eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. Chilton looked pleased with himself.

Will was at his home, sitting down even though he doesn’t remember how he got in that position. Hannibal was rubbing his face with a latex glove. “Wh—”

“Now, now.” Hannibal shushed Will as he opened his mouth wider, and guided a clear plastic tube down his throat.

Will jerked from the pain but couldn’t fight back. He could see Hannibal smirking down at him, running his hand through the brown curls that stuck to Will’s sweat-soaked face. “Just a little more, that’s it.” Hannibal tutted at him.

Five seconds passed in the blink of an eye, and Chilton turned off the machine. Will tried to sit up but was held down by the straps that ran down the length of the bed.

“That bastard!” Will hissed as Matthew began removing the electrodes from his temples.

“Did you remember something, Will?” Chilton asked eagerly.

Will shook his head, refusing to look at Chilton’s self-satisfied expression.

“That’s alright, we will keep doing this every other day until you do.” And with that, Chilton exited the room, leaving Matthew to clean up the mess.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Matthew finally broke the silence in the room. “He has listening devices all over the place so don’t start talking to yourself out loud.”

Will gave the orderly a curious look then smiled. “How do you know he has listening devices?”

“Because he asked me to rig it for him,” Matthew smiled back.

“Thank you.” Will replied, letting Matthew place the handcuffs on him again.

“If you need anything, just say the word.” Matthew’s hand was still numb from how forcefully Will squeezed it earlier. But he didn’t mind nor did he want the feeling to go away because it meant Will needed him, and Matthew was happy to be used by Will in any way the older man wanted.

[maximuswolf]

Shadow of War QOL Mods reupload: Orcs Don't Speak; Equip All Skills; Remove Challenges to upgrade items

Shadow of War QOL Mods reupload: Orcs Don't Speak; Equip All Skills; Remove Challenges to upgrade items Idk if this breaks rules, doesn't seem like it but I'm a lurker not a poster. Forgive me if I mess up. Also, I'm posting the descriptions of these mods from memory, so take it with a grain of salt. Lastly, I posted screenshots of my installation folder for those of us who prefer visual aid. The paths to them start with "K:" instead of "C:", this is just my External Hard Drive. Don't worry. If you need to get to your Shadows of War folder, right click it in your steam library, click "manage", then "browse local files".https://ift.tt/3qvcuQs to ReaperAnon for Item Challenge Remover, Multi-Skill Equiper, and the DLL loader that supports both. I don't remember who did the Orc Voice remover, but if someone finds out, I'll edit this post.DLL Loader: A library mod that allows the Item Challenger and Multi-Skill Equip mods to work.Item Challenge Remover: Removes the quests you go through to upgrade the gear you find, so you can just upgrade it with credits as soon as you find it.Multi-Skill Equip: Allows you to activate all 3 of the skill modifiers around a base skill. Note that not all skills work properly when you do this, but most do. Feel free to test, you won't break anything, but a tip would be that if the moves directly conflict, it won't work. So you can't inflict Fire AND Poison/Ice damage with one move. You can, however, equip moves that allow you to CHOOSE between Shadow Strike OR Shadow Kill OR Shadow Drain, for example. By default, you use this mod by holding CTRL and Left Clicking skills you want to add. This can be changed in the multiskill.ini file by opening it with Notepad.Installation: C:\SteamLibrary\steamapps\common\ShadowOfWar\x64The 'Plugins' Folder and 'bink2w64.dll' should be in the same folder as 'ShadowofWar.exe'. 'Item Challenge Remover' and 'Multi-Skill Equip' should be inside the 'Plugins' Folder.https://ift.tt/XU3MWdk I believe this is the file that makes it so that Orcs don't rant before a fight. They usually scream in the cutscene and then attack. This makes encounters go much quicker, as their little battle cry only takes a fews seconds compared to their long-winded rants. Not every rant is removed, but most are. If this doesn't work, lmk, and I'll go digging for the file that does.Installation: C:\SteamLibrary\steamapps\common\ShadowOfWar\presentations.arch06https://ift.tt/sMCwTlt this helps. I've been using all of these since October, 2022 without issues. I tested all these today to make sure nothing had been broken by some update or another. It all worked without stress. I hope this gives you all as much fun as it did me. Submitted May 13, 2024 at 10:17AM by Tristamid https://ift.tt/I2cOdvB via /r/gaming

[a-captions-blog]

[Image descriptions: 1. A screenshot of a recipe page with a photo of rolls in a dutch oven outdoors. This is captioned, ‘These rolls are the perfect match of soft and crispy, and are so easy to make durig camping trips!’ The recipe text reads: Dutch Oven Rolls Ingredients: Dinner Roll Dough (#1136) (#5965) (#7968) Butter, optional Dutch Oven (#1714) Briquettes – 10 on the lid, 6 on the bottom Instructions 1. Place frozen roll dough in your Dutch oven and thaw until they double in size. Cover in plastic wrap. This will be approximately 3 hours. 2. Place 6 hot briquettes under your Dutch oven, and 10 on top. Bake for 15-20 minutes. You will know they are done when the top is golden brown. 3. Once they are done, baste the tops with butter and serve warm.

2. A recipe screenshot that reads: Ingredients: 3 7g packets yeast 1/2 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees F) 1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 cups milk 1/2 cup butter 2 teaspoons kosher salt 2 eggs 6 cups bread flour 1 tablespoon butter (to brush the rolls) Equipment 1 14 inch Dutch oven 1 round paper liner Directions 1. Dissolve the yeast in the warm water then sprinkle a little of the sugar into the yeast mixture to prove it. 2. Heat the milk to scald it then add the butter to it to melt and cool the milk to a warm temperature (105 to 115 degrees F). 3. Add to the buttered milk the salt, eggs, remaining sugar, and yeast water. 4. Add flour a little at a time while mixing in, all the flour may not need to be used to reach a dough consistence. Knead until you can see through the dough. 5. Let the dough rise twice until doubled in size, punching the dough down each time. 6. Form the dough into dinner rolls and place them in the Dutch oven. Then leave to rise a third time until they have doubled in size. Tip: On a cold day pre-heat the Dutch oven to a warm temperature of about 110 degrees F (43 degrees C). 7. Bake in the 14-inch Dutch oven at 350 degrees F (180 degrees C) for approximately 25 minutes. 8. When browned and cooked through brush them with melted butter, then remove them to cool before serving.

3. A manga panel showing similar buns with a recipe that reads: Bread (Serves 3): Bread flour (stolen) – 250 g Water – 160 mL Yeast (stolen) Sugar Salt Olive oil 4. Comment plain text: you see this si why I was hoping some SubRedditor figured it out for me. I just dropped everything to do math. 5. Text reads: The Dinwiddie Ring Method of Temperature Control Most of the published temperature charts are based on coal counting. For a different point of view try The Dinwiddie Ring Method of Temperature Control Because briquettes become smaller as they burn, heat output decreases with time. To maintain a constant temperature, you must also maintain a constant surface area covered with burning charcoal. The problem of maintaining a constant temperature was addressed by Duane and Sandy Dinwiddie of the Lone Star Dutch Oven Society. For a discussion, see the Texas Treasury of Dutch Oven Cooking, pages 10-11. Also see the section on Charcoal and Temperature Control in http://www.lsdos.com/outdoor.html Here is a summary of The Dinwiddie Ring Method of Temperature Control: [After this is a chart titled, ‘The Dinwiddie Ring Method of Temperature Control.’ This has five columns showing Oven Size, Slow Oven 300°F, Medium Oven 350°F, Hot Oven 400°F, and Very Hot Oven 450°F. The oven sizes start at 8 inches and go up by two each time. The recommended rings for each size and temperature are as follows: 8-inch oven: 1/2 ring for Slow, 3/4 ring for medium, 1 1/4 rings for hot, and 1 1/2 rings for very hot. 10-inch oven: 3/4 ring for slow, 1-ring for medium, 1 1/2 rings for hot, 2 rings for very hot 12-inch oven: 1 ring for slow, 1 1/2 rings for medium, 2 rings for hot, 2 1/2 rings for very hot 14-inch oven: 1 1/2 rings for slow, 2 rings for medium, 2 1/2 rings for hot, 3 rings for very hot 16-inch oven: 2 rings for slow, 2 1/2 rings for medium, 3 rings for hot, 3 1/2 rings for very hot. Under this is a note that says, ‘For all oven sizes, place one ring under. This chart lists number of top rings only. As the charcoal burns, add more to maintain a constant ring size.’] The text continues: The first top or bottom rings are placed at the outer perimeter of the oven. Additional rings are added concentrically toward the center. Fractional rings are constructed by evenly spacing coals. One additional benefit of The Dinwiddie Ring Method of Temperature Control is that it is valid for different brands of briquettes, lump charcoal, and campfire coals.

6. Caption plain text: This blog post goes into additional detail if you want it! [link] 7. Photos of the rolls in the bottom of a Dutch oven. The next to photos are close-ups of the insides of the rolls. \End descriptions]

so i dont usually go on reddit

but has someone on the dungeon meshi subreddit figured out more detailed recipe amounts of the pan-steamed bread that senshi makes in the orc episode?

once we run low on bread in my household I wanna make some anime-ass bread

[commandtower-solring-go]

TIPS FOR ELDEN RING

I wanted to make a quick start guide to cover details in Elden Ring that aren’t covered by the game itself. These are all general and broad and are largely inspired by my play through of it so this absolutely won’t be inclusive of everything. This game is huge anyway, so that should be a surprise.

1) This is by far the most broadly accommodating Souls Game. Where every other game pushed high dexterity builds and low equip loads, this game is far FAR more versatile. Heavy armour builds and magic builds are not only useable, but they’re also good. Hell, even middle range strength builds are good.

2) Don’t feel the need to min-max a single strategy. This game is long and you can afford to play around, find what weapons you like, play with them, and then try something else if you don’t like it

3) Every weapon has a unique series of attacks. Some are shared by similar weapons, but for the most part they’re all unique. These are also unique to two-handed stances, one-handed stances, and dual wielding stances.

4) Ashes of War are never consumed when used and can be reapplied whenever you want. Moreover, they add additional damage buffs beyond changing a weapon/shields special ability.

a. This is deceptive because the ability to duplicate Ashes of War implies that they’re consumable. However, each instant of an Ash of War can only be applied to a single weapon/shield. Having multiple let’s you apply it to multiple weapons so you can, for example, dual weird two weapons which both deal Poison damage

5) Weapon damage on the damage screen is not DPS. Its just raw damage regardless of a weapon’s attack speed. Just because the damage is low doesn’t mean it won’t be effective.

a. The first number is the base damage of the weapon. This can only be changed by improving the weapon itself or applying an Ash of War.

b. The second number, the one following the ‘+’, is additional damage you deal based on your stats. Every weapon gives you a letter Rank associated with a number of your stats. These are its ‘scaling scores’. What this means is that you will receive greater additional damage from a weapon depending on how many points you’ve put into its scalable stats. High scale scores mean those stats increase the additional a weapon’s damage more.

c. If a weapon has multiple damage types these scale independently of one another

d. None of these values account for any conditional damage such as poison build up or blood loss.

6) TBH, armour stats are negligible unless you invest heavily. Don’t feel the need to fully understand it unless you really want to. Also, some armour pieces grant unique effects. Cycle to the armour’s description to read what else it can do.

7) This game is hard. Abuse anything you can. Use the rune farm strats. Cheese boss fights. Use summons. Ask friends in NG+ for help. Go grind for hours, explore the world. Move past the boss and come back hours later. Look up boss guides. It doesn’t matter. If you truly want the glory of defeating a boss all on your own, you can always attempt NG+ or restart your game later. Its legit a lot of fun to replay.

a. I want to reiterate this. Whatever bar someone else sets for themselves is irrelevant to you. There are people who play these games without taking hits. If you want to play like that, cool. But I think the existence of these folk ought to humble the people who draw their ‘difficulty line in the sand’ at summoning during boss fights. Cheese away.

8) If you are stuck on a fight, you can ignore it. This game more than any is extremely accommodating to moving past a fight. Margit was the second Lord I defeated.

9) You can block way more attacks than you think you can.

10) I liked setting my own goals removed from the actual goals of the game. For example, through some googling I found I could reallocate my levels, but in order to do that I needed to go about this whole process which was out of the way of my previous goal. I found so many more landmarks once I shifted my focus and ended up felling an intended boss far ahead of time simply because it ended up being easier than my previous goal. The game is just like that.

11) There is no story in game. The story is only really implied through environments, characters who assume you’re already familiar with the world and item descriptions. It’s a vague mess and its part of what draws a specific kind of person to it. The countless video essays on the lore of these games don’t recount the lore told in game but extrapolate what it might be based on the barest evidence. To this end, don’t play the game for the plot. You will only disappoint yourself. Most hardcore players learn most anything to do with the plot from those same video essays.

12) Take breaks. It took me 100+ hours to beat Bloodborne for the first time and this game is way larger. It’ll take a while. Enjoy the ride. And you might be like ‘but June, the speed run is less than an hour long and I’ve been playing for 20 something hours and I feel like I’m reaching the end of the gam- wrong. You’re nowhere close. This game just keeps happening.

13) EXPLORE OFTEN AND REVISIT AREAS REPEATEDLY. This game is broad but its also very very deep. There are neat things around every corner and tucked in every corner. And there are pretty much always worth getting.

14) Legit, I love playing online because of the messages. They make the game 1000% more enjoyable.

15) Use the map’s marking features liberally. When you find yourself coming and going and being stopped and moving on, you’ll absolutely forget where you have been and what you found but didn’t complete. I also mark all the merchants because I like them.

16) Praise the dog

17) Despite how hard the game is, it is also extremely fair and respects its own rules.

a. You will never be invaded unless you are playing with a friend.

b. If an area is clear of hostiles, and there are no roaming enemies who would organically wander towards you, it’ll remain safe if you step away from the game for a bit.

18) Your equip load will determine the quality of your dodge roll. This, however, is very different to previous games. Here there are only 4 weights. Low, Mid, High and Over. Low and Mid have the same number of invulnerability frames. However, Low will let you cover more distance per roll. High is an extremely sloppy roll and Over prevents you from rolling at all. There is no change in roll quality within these equip loads. For example, a low Mid equip weight will give you the same roll as a high Mid equip weight.

19) You will be surprised with the kinds of fight you’d think you’d lose but actually stand a chance in. You’ll also be surprised by the kinds of fights you think you can win but will inevitably lose to. So try it out. You might as well.

20) Most weapons have a stat requirement for use. These can’t really be circumvented, with the exception of Strength. If you two-hand a weapon its strength requirement is halved.

a. This may also be true for weapons that deal magic damage wherein you can use them but you don’t get any of its magic-based benefits. Not sure though

21) Horde items. You have an equip load but not a carry load.

22) ALWAYS PRAISE THE DOG

[duchesstopaz]

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 Part 5 6:32pm

Now here we are, in the present, where I’m back after 3 years at 20 years old. Where I’ve learned and grew so much outside of this cage, where I was free from the dark chasm in my life and heart that is home. Where every second around you makes me feel 8 and 10 and 12 and 15 and 17, all simultaneously and all over again. Of course, the abuse has stopped, it stopped a long time ago, but when you have PTSD, things get really muddled. And, yes, I’m an adult now, teaching at an elementary school, and taking care myself for the most part. So, what’s so bad? Well, I’ll tell you.

When I’m back in my childhood bedroom, sleeping on an air mattress, with ALL of my younger siblings, as an adult. When there’s another bedroom that could have been used, but why would it be, when my stepdad uses it to get ready for work, to house the hundreds of products he purchased from Amazon, and in case you forgot from earlier, the thousands of dollars worth of workout equipment that he uses once every 2 months. OH! And get this! His mother is living with us right now, and she now gets that bedroom. Wild, right?

When I’m back to being the in-house, unpaid nanny for the kids. To feed them, watch them, help them with homework, and yes, to correct any misbehaving and report only the extremes. When my stepdad decides he’s bestowing me the responsibility of “supervising the kids cleaning the room”. When he comments on how responsible I’ve always been, and offers me to be back on their car insurance, even though I was never removed from it. 

When he comes in the door, and immediately starts yelling and blaming everyone for how “messy” the house is, and to “get this crap off my stuff”, and “who touched my shelf?”. OH, THE SHELF! When he has a whole shelf in the refrigerator that is dedicated to separate all of his groceries for his vegetarian diet and his on-brand food items that cannot be disturbed by anyone else. When he subjects my mom to buying the cheapest version of all food products, but specifically asks for her to only buy specific brands for him. When he has 2 tables in the kitchen for juicing that cannot be used as counter space by anyone but him. When he’s telling me about the health benefits of one of his juices (or as he calls it every time, “a concoction”), and adds, “Bet you didn’t know that when you were vegan, huh?”. When he continues to not allow anyone to use the washer in the evenings when he gets home because he needs to wash his uniform daily. Also! When no one is allowed to use the only bathroom in the house for at least 3 hours, because he needs it reserved.

When he consistently forgets our birthdays or details of what’s going on in our lives because he doesn’t ask, until my mom tells him of an achievement we’ve made and forces him to congratulate us. When he’s rushing to get to where he’s going and he’s bounding and pushing throughout the house telling everyone to get out of his way because he has poor time management and forgets that there’s 8 people in this tiny house right now. When he asks us a question and we answer, but he doesn’t care because his focus is always elsewhere, so he yells at us that we’re ignoring him. When he impulsively decides to buy the kids something or take them out to eat, and he constantly complains about he could be watching Tv instead or badgering the kids about how much it costs. 

When you misinform your kids by telling them inaccurate retellings of American and Black history. When you feign authority over whether they can go out with a friend, just to forget about it until the time arrives. When you preach about respect and manners, but continue to disrespect and treat me as a child and allow your kids to do the same. When you brag about accolades and compliments from your job because of said respect and manners, even posting a letter on the fridge, but never celebrating any of us for our accolades and compliments.

When you force me to pay you and mom at least $100 a week ($500 a month) as a rent-adjacent payment to help my mom with groceries and bills, just like you used to. When you constantly lecture me about getting a car, but don’t allow the full autonomy of my finances by threatening my ability to stay in my childhood home with the payments. When you try to tell me how to do my job teaching, when you have zero experience of the sort, and try to speak in a proper manner to match my manner of speaking. When you project your superiority/inferiority complex onto me when you ask me about college, by trying to act that you’re more intelligent than me and more knowledgeable about the subject I’m literally having to explain to you.

When you constantly forget about my mental disorders and my therapy and my medication, then you ask me about them as if it’s your time hearing it, even though you know that my mental health is the whole reason I moved back home. When you weaponize your willful ignorance against everyone in the house, especially my mom, to excuse your participation and involvement in our lives.  When you bought walkie-talkies as an updated way of summoning everyone to your room to heed your request, like a bell system that you ring when you need an attendant, saying, “[insert name], report to the bedroom.”, because you can’t be bothered to function independently at home or talk to your family normally. 

How you require that whenever we enter your room to listen to you, that we stand on the side, “where you can see us”. How you make my mother wash all of your clothes or prepare your shower. How my mother goes out of her to make your choice of dinner every night, but you consistently change your mind and inconvenience her, or how my mother is currently in school to get her degree and has HOMEWORK, just to get frustrated when your wife isn’t able to spend time with you. How you selectively recognize that my mom is overworked, just to blame it on us, rather than stepping up and being the parent that you should be. 

How you ask me to complete your online training and learning modules for your job, despite me not knowing anything about truck driving or transporting oil and that you don’t pay me to complete what you should be completing on your own, again, for your job! How you are teaching your kids to stereotype other marginalized communities by saying, “All Mexicans eat guacamole”, or “Those Asian people look like they squint because they’re eyes are too small”.

How you literally decide to manspread every chance you get and take up so much unnecessary space, and force everyone to move around you and yell when someone can’t get around you, when I’m literally taller than you. How you insult your kids daily by calling them stupid, dumb, clumsy, blind, deaf, etc., when it’s because of your own failings as a parent that they don’t meet your expectations of them. How you lie to everyone not in the household in front of all of us about how you act as a parent. How you lie to your kids saying that a box of doughnuts has been sitting on your table for 3 days and needs to be thrown out, when I just bought it that same afternoon. How you don’t know how to react if the kids have a medical emergency because you don’t know their conditions, medications, and what they’re for.

How you manipulate your kids into serving you (“helping you”) by painting it as spending time together, which is the only time you spend together.

How you constantly speak in very vague and general terms, saying “that thing”, “your stuff”, “over there”, then get frustrated and insult everyone’s intelligence because you can’t think of ways to speak in a more clear and intelligent manner, and expect us to be able to always know what you’re speaking of.

How you asked me why I never come home, and I told you a half-truth. How you’re so observational, yet not perceptive. Because if you were, you would at least have the self-reflection to be able to understand that you’re a despicable, horrible piece of shit excuse for a human being, not even a man. How you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror and realize how you scare everyone with your tantrums and violence. How you can’t even recognize that it’s your fault that things are the way they are, and you can’t expect children to have that level of understanding. How you think you’re so exceptional as a person and as a “parent”, but it’s all a delusion that you make yourself believe because you were raised in the same exact way. How you can’t realize that you were traumatized as a child and as much as I know you hated it yourself, you didn’t strive to be different than your father, you strove to get your chance to do the same. 

How you willingly and knowingly married a woman with two sons, and looked at them, and decided to treat them with violence and vitriol, instead of realizing that they don’t have positive father-figures and that you should be different. I hate you for who you made me become. And you’ll never be a parent to me.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4

[adventuresofclever]

CleverMax: SDCC 2021 Masquerade Entry

Comic-Con@Home Masquerade Entry: Adventures of Clever Costume Title: CleverMax - Mr. Clever as a Borderlands boss Costume Description: Recreation of Mr. Clever from the Doctor Who episode Nightmare in Silver, written by Neil Gaiman, done in the style of the video game, Borderlands. Bio: They/He pronouns

Greetings all!

I realized that I never wrote about how I made my CleverMax mashup cosplay, so when SDCC posted about their At Home masquerade, I figured this was the perfect time to do so! Most of you know that I cosplay exclusively as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who, with the random mash up thrown in here and there. I’ve always wanted to be a Borderlands cosplayer, and the following is how I managed to combine the two together.

As always, enjoy the blog and if there are any questions, please feel free to contact me. 

Let’s step into the TARDIS and jump back to October 20, 2009, when the first Borderlands game was released. It was my first foray into FPS (First person shooters) and I was hooked from day one. In 2012 they released Borderlands 2 which is, in my not so humble opinion, the best video game ever created. We got some of the most iconic charcters and storylines in that game. Including the best DLC ever, Bunkers and Badasses. And my second favorite villain of all time – Handsome Jack.

Jack’s sass, sarcasm and charm fits well with Mr. Clever’s personality. And in the pre sequel you get to play a version of him called the Dopplegnager.  I mean, this pretty much wrote itself.

Handsome Jack from Borderlands 2 and Mr. Clever from Doctor Who

Borderlands cosplayers have aIways left me in a state of awe and admiration. The style of the game is so unique and seeing it recreated in person is nothing short of incredible. I’ve always wanted to figure out a way to be a Borderlands cosplayer. For the past eight years I have only ever cosplayed as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who. In the summer of 2019 I decided that was the perfect time to try to make this happen before NYCC.

When I initially decided to do this, it was going to be more of a mash up between Handsome Jack and Mr. Clever. I had planned on wearing Jack’s basic outfit, but in Clever’s colors with the a few add ons. Namely the bow tie and the cybernetics.

After much research and drafting, I decided against that. I ended up just turning Mr. Clever into a Borderlands boss. Same basic outfit as Mr. Clever/11th Doctor, but cel shaded and with weapons, cause Borderlands.

I made the accessories, chess set, and obviously the working cyberplanner piece itself for my Nightmare in Silver version of Clever, but I have never tackled anything this ambitious. An entire costume from scratch? Not something I thought I could do. Not knowing how to sew and being visually impaired were both challenges that I had to work around.

I started with looking around my house for various items that I thought I could use. I figured if I messed up, might as well mess up on something I hadn’t spent money on yet! I was going to toss a pair of my old paddock boots as they had some rips in the leather. Ripped leather? How very Pandora. They were the first thing I tackled.

Old paddock boots that I refurbished for the cosplay

This was my first time using leather paint and I have to say I am very pleased with the Angelus brand of leather paint. I have worn these in the rain and through puddles, and they have held up 100%.

After the boots were done, I started on the vest. I had an old black vest lying around the house that was sort of the shape and size I wanted. I don’t have a dress form, so I put it on myself, inside out, and used safety pins to make it the size I needed, then hand sewed around the safety pins. Not ideal, but it works.

I had a spare pair of black jeans, button down light blue shirt and a plain bow tie that I just ended up cel shading.

The only item that I really couldn’t figure out was the purple frock coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one to modify. So the coat was actually made by my friend Heather Long. I did alter the length after NYCC. 

With the clothes themselves all set, for the most part anyay, it was time to paint. This was my first time trying to recreate the art style of Borderlands, often referred to as cel shading. I have a few “art of Borderlands” style books that I poured over before I sat down to attempt this.

Other than the accessories and anything leather, I used the same materials and techniques for each article of clothing. Instead of describing each seprate piece, I’ll just explain what I did to achieve the overall look.

When you look at a Borderlands character on screen, it can be a bit overwhelming. So many colors, and so many nuances of each color. I did my best to visually sift through all that, and try to establish what I thought was the base color.

Once the base color was determined, I just added blotches, blobs, shading, low lights, highlights and other variations of the base color itself throughout each piece. I recommend keeping your fabric wrinkled and using those wrinkle as guidlenes for where the lines and shading would fall naturally.

Once all of that dried, I then went over different sections of the fabric with white and black lines. To get that crisp, almost comic book looking outline of each piece I used black sharpie, and white fabric pens as well as white fabric paint.

When I sat down to do the coat, I wanted something a little different than just cel shading. During a second playthrough of Tales from the Borderlands, I noticed Rhys and other characters had interesting logos and designs on the back of their jackets. I ended up putting a chessboard pattern on the back as a homage to the chess game between the 11th Doctor and Mr. Clever in the episode.

Great shot of the chess board and my Judd Nelson pose

The materials that I used for all of the clothing items were craft paints that I had around the house. Any brand works, but I prefer Americana paints. I then added an additive that you use to make the paint water proof and used various sized brushes. Dry brushes are also very useful if you have them.

Black sharpies of different sizes and any fabric markers are also very helpful. Heat setting is required to make the paint waterpfoof, so if you mess up before you add sharpies, you can wash the clothes and start over.

A few tips if you decide to undertake cel shading clothing: Until now I hadn’t noticed that there aren’t many thing in Borderlands that are true black. Due to the art style most things that appear black are in reality shades of grey, with a grey base colr. This makes it easier to add the lines, shading, and what not.  Looking back, I should have bought GREY clothes. It was a ton of work to make the pants look like they were a mixture of greys. And as a result of so many laers of paint, they are stiff, lost their stretch and feel an entire size smaller! So I would recommend grey fabric as a base for black clothing and buy a size larger.

The pants are so stiff that I think they will stand up on their own

This entire process was way more fun than I thought it would be and I’ve since become addicted to cel shading anything I can. I may or may not have started cel shading my guest room. 

After the clothing was finished, I started on some accessories and props. The first being the easiet – a wee little cybermite that I cel shaded. My cosplay of Mr. Clever always has a cybermite on my lapel, so I took one of my older ones and repainted it.

You can’t have a Borderlands character without some sort of weapon, so I painted a nerf gun that looks similar to the one that Clara Oswald holds in the episode.

I have never had to carry a gun for my Mr. Clever cosplay before so weapon checks are sort of new to me. I didn’t want to go through that at NYCC so I came up with a clever, no pun intended, way around it.

I took a photo of each side of the gun. Went to Staples and had them printed on heavy cardstock. Then I cut around the guns, glued them together between a piece of cardboard then added some black electical tape around the edges.  Viola. Instant weapons check approved gun that is lightweight, and also acts a fan when it gets hot. It was a huge hit at the con. A few security guards were like “ we have to check your…wait..is that flat?” And they proceeded to play with it. I highly recommend doing this!

Gun and its flat counterpart

I am holding the flat gun in this picture from NYCC

In the actual game, you can equip your characters with mods that give them certain abilities and bonuses. In the Pre-Sequel, you can play as a Dopplganger of Handsome Jack so I searched for some of his mods and found one in purple which seemed perfect. I made the mod with cardboard, covered it in craft foam, modge podge to set, and installed led lights. The first time I wore it I put it on my belt which didn’t work. It kept falling off. I eventually put it on my lapel and wore it like Jack does. Unfortunately, someone glomped on me at a con and broke it, so I recently had to remake it all over again.

No Borderlands costume would be complete without cel shading on yourself. This was a huge challenge for me for a few reasons. One, I’m visually impaired so doing line work like this was challenging. Two, I am highly allergic to so many materials and ingrediants that finding a make up brand that I could wear was a trial and error process that ended up with many break outs and rashes before I found the perfect combination.

I used mostly eye liner pencils and liquid eye liner to achieve the look. The Wet n Wild liquid eye liner lasts forever, and is actually difficult to remove, but that is not a bad thing as it stood up to the heat of a very crowded venue.

As for the cel shading itself, I relied on many refernce photos of various characters in the game. I started with the eyebrows first as that seemed to frame the face nicely and give me a nice mischvieous look. I then just outlined the bones of my face, adding some random lines here and there. It never looks the same way twice, but that’s ok. Playing with different angles, lines, shading etc is half the fun!

The only real challenge were my hands. The make up didn’t last that long on my hands so I had to touch it up throughout the con. I also eventually started to use band aids that I cel sahded to cover up a tattoo on my inner wrist.

Figuring what to do with my hair is an on going process that I still haven’t 100% mastered. I opted to not use a foam wig as I have over heating issues on a cool day let alone trying to wear one if it gets warmer. I have had adverse reactions to craft foam in the past, so I don’t want it touching my skin, and lastly, I think a wig AND a facial prosthetic would be too much for me. So I decided to just cel shade my hair.

This takes forever to do, and I’m still figuring out better techniques every time I wear it.

I have a really great brand of colored gel, called Mofajang which I apply with a baster brush that you would find in the kitchen gadgets aisle. I also use a clean mascara brush to add some finer lines here and there. Set with way more hair spray than I ever used in the 80’s and it becomes fairly waterproof.

I have learned that due to how hard the make up and hair color is to remove, I really need to wear this on the LAST day of a con. I made the mistake of wearing it on day one of Long Island Who one year, and spent hours scrubbing my skin and hair for the next day. Far better to just leave the con with a tad bit of left over cel shading. Which makes it very interesting when you stop at a roadside bathroom on the trip home.

With the entire costume done it was time to work on the actual cyberplanner appliance. 

Next time I make a variation of Clever, I will make this FIRST. Making these pieces is the bane of my existence – I love wearing them, hate making them.  It’s a long process.

I am allergic to latex, silocone, scuply, most clays, and so many other things that seem to be every cosplayers go-to. When I made my first cyber piece back in late 2013, I spent weeks trying to find a substance that would keep attached to my face all day without causing a rash. Like an alchemist in a fantasy novel, I submerged myself into creating the perfect concoction. It took 22 days to finish the final product.

I admit that I rushed a bit on the Borderlands one.  As a result, it doesn’t quite fit as well as my others, and is a bit heavier than I expected. I only added two working lights, instead of the usual four, to hopefully balance the piece out. It lasted through two full days of a con, despite the heat of a crowded venue, but I did end up tweaking it a bit after. Even with the tweaks, it still doesn’t fit as well as I would like. It is too heavy and brings down the entire left side of my face, making it difficult to keep my eye open at times. I really need to sit down and force myself to make a new one.

There are a few more things that I would like to add to this costume eventually. Like a belt of grenades, and maybe another gun. But aside from that, I am incredibly pleased with how this costume turned out. It is by far, my favorite Clever variation that I have done.

I hope this post gives you the inspiration to go off and cel shade something, and possibly even play some Borderlands!

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 4)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~6500 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! -i reckon I don’t need the paste it again… but in short: this is a purely self-indulgent work which contains a lot of my own headcanons and whatnot. this chapter especially so! lots of talking and thinking - curious to see what you think!! THANKS FOR READING <3 ----- Tobirama resolved to give you the next dose preemptively. After you had explained to him that during your capture you had never suffered anything like the withdrawal symptoms - or at least you couldn't remember - he expressed concern for the fact the leash might do more permanent damage if stretched too far.

"That means I'm going to have to take it more often," you had whimpered.

Tobirama still had a hard time seeing you so malnourished - a shadow of your former self. But he wasn't going to argue now. "I know," he had answered, keeping his deep voice soft nonetheless. Your precarious state needn't be aggravated by more stress, though he wouldn’t be swayed on this. "However I hardly think they spared you the withdrawal symptoms because they were being fair sports, Y/n." There was a sad logic behind this, of course.

There always was.

You were twisting uneasily in the bed a bit now, blinking a few times. It had not escaped Tobirama's notice that you had seemed to ponder longer - and your movements had become weaker, more sluggish. In fact he had lowered you back to the bed again from the hug you two had shared because he had felt how your muscles had begun to shake - just from sitting up. You had protested of course, but Tobirama wasn't going to change his mind on this, either. You still needed a lot of rest. Besides-

The scales were tipping, slowly.  It made his heart heavy.

Finally you had found your words again. "I suppose so." You closed your eyes lazily.

"Y/n…", Tobirama had spoken up again softly, reaching to grasp your hand which felt so cold. "I'll put you to sleep right after you drank it. If we shield you from any outward sensations, it might help." If it came down to it, Tobirama knew he himself would guard the door if he had to. Pray for anyone who disturbed you in your vulnerable state. At the same time, he was aware how unrealistic that was - but either way, it was another concern he’d find a solution to. He always did.

You had given him a weak smile, then. "It's worth a shot."

Tobirama could tell you hadn't exactly placed any hope in that.

He wasn't sure if he did.

That had been two hours ago, now. In the meantime he had worked to set up the laboratory gear needed for the next task at hand: analyse the contents of the drug. Of course the hospital had all the equipment available as well as an empty room in the basement. Tobirama still wanted to be closer to you, but he'd have to make due with a seal placed in your room. Briefly, he contemplated to let a shadow clone of his guard you, but ultimately he decided against it - his focus mustn't be divided, at least not now. Besides, your day was pretty much running by the leash's clock, which Tobirama knew hatefully well by now. He knew when to be with you. Frankly he still was miffed Mito had removed the branded piece of paper he had placed there earlier - now, he opted to ram a marked kunai into the doorframe. The gesture was clear. Hashirama was tending to his duties as Hokage again by now - Tobirama didn't expect to see his brother again too quickly. Not that he'd blame him - there were other pressing matters at hand.

Tobirama also had some other place to visit again for results.

All of the work was good - the focus was welcomed. During it he was entirely absorbed in considering his approaches to the objective as well as his angles in achieving it. The worry had become an undercurrent in his mind - though his heart still felt heavy and the ache never faded, he now was doing something. He channeled it all into the urge to protect you and keep the promise he made.

Though just as he had sworn to do everything to save you - he had pleaded for forgiveness for everything he needed to do for that.

Now would be a time where he'd regretfully hope for the latter again.

He was standing in front of your door again, holding a small vial containing the clear, dreadful liquid. Tobirama made sure to take the exact amount Hashirama had when they drugged you first - it seemed to have been the right amount given how the timeframe had played out. The bottle his brother had secured from the hideout would make up for a handful of dosages. They still were pressed for time, but there was some yet. Some.

He opened the door silently.

You were squirming again slightly - a disorientated nestle in the bed. Your eyes were closed and a fine sheen of sweat was glistening in the red sun of dusk that filtered through the window.

Tobirama frowned. Had he been too late?

Slowly he approached the bed, sighing heavily. He wasn't a man to hesitate, no matter how grim the task. But he would be lying if he said what he needed to do now was tantamount to driving a katana into his own body.

No, he'd actually prefer doing that to this.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Y/n," he greeted you softly, a hand reaching for your shoulder to rub it gently and check for your response.

Your head whipped towards him, your eyes wide. They blinked a few times as your hazy mind tried to work out the recognition that was digging itself out of the swamp your thoughts had become again.

You didn't reply, though. But your squirms had stilled, at least.

Tobirama desperately wished this wouldn't need to become an act of force again. One he'd absolutely go through with - but cruel for everyone involved.

"It's time," he whispered, keeping the anguish out of his voice in an attempt at comfort. Inwardly, he was mocking himself for it. Ridiculous.

The response was prompt. A whimper first, then a low groan after your gaze settled on the vial he held. Your head tilted to the side as you rolled your eyes almost comically. Except the occasion was far from laughing. Tobirama silently wondered if you had no strength left to even speak.

It was haunting to think that might be the case.

Wordlessly, his hand reached under your neck to tilt your head up somewhat. You didn't protest - you felt awfully limp, anyway. The ache in Tobirama's heart flared again. He did not yet bring the vial to your lips yet - as much as he hated it, the contents were regretfully precious. He couldn't risk spilling a drop of it and thus watched you carefully for any signs of resistance and by extension any need of restraint. Methodically as he was, the ordeal became more stressful by each passing second.

Your eyelids fluttered as you huffed briefly, another groan escaping your lips. It sounded pained this time. Your head shook pitifully from side to side as your eyes rolled back in their sockets again. Were you trying to shake off the delirium that was creeping up on you? Or were you trying to shake him off? Forcing you would add another dimension of anguish to this procedure - he opted to take a moment, for now.

Try to avoid that at least.

"I know," Tobirama uttered in an attempt to pacify you again. The hand that had grasped around the base of your neck let its fingers stroke the base of your scalp gently. "You have to," he muttered, not being able to keep the agony out of his baritone voice now as a jitter snuck into his tone, "I'll be doing everything I can to make it better, Y/n." He didn't want to promise it would be  fine .

For all he knew, he was feeding you poison that would send you on another horror trip.

His heart hammered in a tormented rhythm again.

Your response was yet another anguished groan, but your eyes opened now - fixating him.

"Please, Y/n," he whispered again, no, he pleaded. Please don't make me do worse again, he wanted to say. Instead he massaged your scalp again gently. I would, if I have to, please don’t -

In a rare streak of luck, you stilled then and simply closed your eyes. A fact Tobirama wordlessly uttered gratitude for.

He brought the vial to your lips and tilted it very slightly so the dreaded poison was lapping at your lips.

Your face scrunched.

"I know," he hushed again, though inwardly he tensed. He absolutely must not lose a single drop of this damned substance. If you so much as -

Finally though you opened your mouth slightly to drink it - "Careful," he cautioned quickly but a few gulps later, the substance was gone.

Tobirama felt sorrow budding inside him again as he gently lowered your head back to the pillow. He didn't withdraw his hand yet but rather let it slide up to caress your cheek tenderly, sighing heavily. Your breathing had already begun to even out.

He had wanted to tell you he'd be there - but there was no more time. Instead he closed his eyes to let his chakra graze over your network in an utterly warm and smooth way. With no small amount of grief he witnessed how its flow was becoming more dull again, how the fight against the disruption was stilling. Slowly, he intensified the connection and shifted his focus to your brain again, where activity was picking rapidly. Quickly, he smothered your consciousness with his chakra in the most tender way he could.

Whether or not you could still bear witness to the insane firework that your sensory cortices were unleashing on you, Tobirama couldn't know. He let his chakra linger a moment longer to examine you in hopes of finding an answer to the question - but it was futile.

Time to withdraw.

He removed his hand slowly and then procured a blindfold that he wrapped around your head loose enough for you to remove when you came to again. Then, he rose to his feet and walked to the window to close it, drew the curtains closed so the room was completely dark save for the light coming in from the hall.

Silently, he bid you a regretful goodbye, not even daring to speak now before he left the room and closed the door without making a sound.

See you in a few hours.

As soon as he turned around after sighing again heavily, a familiar voice called out.

"Tobirama!"

His head whipped around to the source of the noise. The worries and sorrow were swept away by stinging irritation. "Shut up, anija!", he hissed through clenched teeth. The handful of people in the hall turned their heads, but as per usual, Tobirama couldn't care less.

Hashirama froze in his tracks. He knew his brother's temper of course, but that attack felt uncalled for - he could tell by the telltale crease of his eyebrows, or what Tobirama sometimes mocked as the ‘kicked puppy look’ his elder brother had down to a science.

Either way, he stormed over towards Hashirama and still managed to not make a sound while doing so. "I just gave her the next dose," he explained, still not bothering to pipe down on the anger.

Hashirama held his hands up apologetically, smirking. "Ah," was all he got out now.

Tobirama huffed and then clicked his tongue to motion for his brother to follow him.

"I set up the laboratory in the basement," he began to explain, leading the way to just there. "I thought about a few things, too." He frowned. "You mentioned there was no storage of herbs or anything else that possibly might have been used to craft drugs or medicine of any kind?"

Hashirama hummed in an affirmative way. "No storage, no. But there was some laboratory equipment." His tone was thoughtful enough to make Tobirama think he already was on the same track he was.

"Then that means they either gathered everything they needed for the drug in Konoha or we actually brought with us the last of their supplies and they were running out of this 'leash'." A cold shiver ran down his spine at the implication of the latter. Not just for what it meant for you had they not managed to break you - but also your current predicament.

Your lifespan did not exceed a week right now, at most. If the Stone shinobi had used anything Tobirama couldn't procure here-

A tight feeling wrapped around his chest. His pace picked up if just to combat the budding ache in his heart.

He simply would not lose you.

Hashirama hummed again, but this time on a different note. "I don't think they were running out. The fact there was no excessive storage capacity down there speaks against that - Y/n had been in their clutches for weeks."

Now it was Tobirama's turn to ponder again. His brother was right. The hideout was not something that had been planned ahead meticulously. Furthermore, "They had not been planning on capturing Y/n, either. Which means they couldn't have brought excessive amounts of the drug with them. Besides, it is highly impractical to pack too much when infiltrating enemy lines." The logic was calming. That means it must be possible to synthesise the drug.

Sadly, Hashirama had another thought. "That is, of course, if they had no other means to prolong the onset of withdrawal symptoms - that the leash we brought with us actually just would’ve been used to tether more people to it."

Tobirama froze in his tracks. He turned around to glance at his brother with a frown. "Explain." He didn’t have to. He already knew what his brother was on about.

Hashirama sighed. "We know this drug firstly enhances all sensory capabilities in extreme ways, to first make the victim more susceptible to torture. Alright. But there is this chakra component to the drug," his index finger and thumb grasped his chin. "From what we've ascertained it firstly near freezes chakra flow. Later, the victim’s chakra begins to flow freely again, but then drug - and this I have not yet understood - disrupts the flow. The disruption causes the ultimately lethal effects of the withdrawal as the body tries to repel it worse and worse, causing systemic inflammation and ultimately shock. Repetitive dosages stop this effect, evidently. Thus the name, I presume. However, it is possible to think there might be some way - some treatment, maybe a jutsu - to set the disruption off again."

The argument was sound - and unsettling. It’d add another dimension of complexity to a problem that already smelled awfully rotten by how mysterious its components were looking. Tobirama blinked then, remembering something - “I doubt it. Y/n told me they frequently made her ingest a substance. Furthermore, remember how she reacted when we gave her the first dose. She was used to the psychotropic effects, thus the… intense moment.” The moment he made her think she was back in captivity.

Hashirama hummed only for a moment, then he nodded in agreement. “You are right. That does seem to rule out my theory.” Silence stretched for a few more moments, a fine frown forming on his brother’s forehead - Tobirama knew he was about to say something he wouldn’t appreciate. “I’m afraid I have the distinct notion that the chakra altering effects and the disruption the drug causes must be the product of alterations to an original substance. Either with chakra or by a jutsu, even.” His usually warm gaze was hard now - and Tobirama knew why.

It was one thing to recreate the contents of a poison - fairly easy, even, if one had a good lead. But to simply copy something like an alteration of an item with chakra or a jutsu even - that was a far more complicated task.

A task that would take up more time - time  you  didn’t have. Tobirama exhaled a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose as his other arm clasped around his chest in order to quell the swelling ache that was budding there, the haunting  feeling forming. Of course he was confident in his skills.

But the stakes couldn’t possibly be higher.

If he didn’t figure this out in time -

You’d -

He shook his head briefly to sweep out the overcoming sense of a looming doom that was budding faster than he could control it and swallowed drily as though that’d help it  somehow .

His hand dropped from his face and his arms were crossed in front of his chest now as he considered his brother's words. He took another deep breath. "Unfortunately, I agree. The drug does give off a weak chakra signature. We face a couple of questions," he finally answered, after a brief moment. "First off, how is the chakra altering component of the drug related to its psychotropic effect?" He quirked up an eyebrow. But he already was turning around to continue on their way down to the laboratory.

However, he continued - might as well speak freely about the figurative business order now. "Secondly, how does the withdrawal effect set in? Is it because of metabolic shifts due to a lack of the substance? That would mean the disruption is part of a physical addiction. Or, does the drug actually alter its effect based on the time since indigestion? That… will be even more difficult to replicate." His voice was already gruff - by difficult, he meant near impossible without so much as a lead. Such a feat was poison maker master class. Extensive involvement of chakra, no less.

The ache of his heart began to constrict his chest worse again; he took rebellious, even breaths against it. Outwardly he remained perfectly calm - truth be told, he was. Even in the face of this adversary.

It just meant he had no choice but to try and give it his all. He desperately hoped this option was not the case.

Hashirama's voice was grim now, too. He was well aware of the implication. "It doesn't have to be that complicated. It might be related to the blood levels of the drug. That can drastically alter the effects of medications."

Tobirama's frown smoothed somewhat - he was aware of his brother's attempt to get off the grim route his thoughts had been taking, but the objection was sound nonetheless. "Or it's both." Still, Tobirama wasn't so naive to get infected by his brother's ever present optimism.

Even if right now, he really could do with some sunshine.

Hashirama let out one of his rare exasperated sighs. "Or that." He, on the other hand, wouldn't get infected by his younger brother’s pessimism, either. Or realism, as Tobirama liked to call it. No, Hashirama just became annoyed at times.

They reached the door of the makeshift laboratory. Tobirama half had a mind to lock the door after they entered simply so nobody would interrupt him, but then he might not be notified if anything was wrong with you.

Hashirama strode over to the bench hoisting the equipment, exhaling a low whistle. Tobirama followed and eyed the small vial of the 'leash' he had drawn off the bottle they had. The least possible amount, at least by what he could imagine from his experience.

Hashirama noticed, too. "We'll have to make some considerations beforehand." His tone was serious, his forehead wrinkled in ponder.

Tobirama huffed. "Of course." He crossed his arms again. "Based on our considerations they must have used ingredients found within the Land of Fire. More precisely, the area where Y/n was kept."

"That is not too helpful. That area is a vast forest with rich vegetation. And we don't know how far they went to gather them." Hashirama countered thoughtfully.

"You are right. But we need to start somewhere. And that is analysing what is in this," his fingernail flicked at the vial, "before we think about the effect on the victim’s chakra. Furthermore," Tobirama added with a roll of his shoulders, "only a handful of the plants that grow in the area, even in the wider area, have the intense psychotropic effects we witnessed in Y/n. Or the potential to develop them." He turned to gaze at his brother through narrowed eyelids again.

Hashirama's mien was unreadable. "We need to know what's in there and in what quantities. Then we will still need to figure out how to make it work. There is another problem." His brown eyes turned to Tobirama now. He was perfectly grave now.

Tobirama could guess what this problem was. "How are we going to test the experiments?" His baritone voice was just as low from sincerity.

Hashirama nodded.

Of course, he also had given that some thought. But the answer to that question was very simple. At least to him. Tobirama held his gaze evenly. When he spoke his next choice words, his heart didn't miss a beat. "There are five willing test subjects in the interrogation and torture headquarters right now. Six, actually." Akio must have arrived by now, too.

Hashirama sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. "That's a step too far, Tobirama. It might severely harm them. Kill them, even." His tone became stern. “They’re our prisoners.”

Tobirama bristled with low, swirling anger. And this, too, he had expected from his brother - moral qualms with what Tobirama figured was very sound logic. He crossed his arms, his stare boring through his brother. "What do you suggest then, anija?" His voice dropped below zero. "Test everything on Y/n?"

The question was rhetorical, of course. And Tobirama knew that his brother knew - in fact he dared him to answer it.

Hashirama closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. "I am not, of course," he readily answered before Tobirama could make a cutting comment on your condition or deliver another scathing, cynical remark.

Tobirama seized the silence that followed. "They were trespassing our borders, captured one of our own and tortured her brutally and cruelly for  weeks  . Call me biased for Y/n's involvement, if you will. But between all our options for this problem, they're the most logical one."

Hashirama fell silent. He turned back to the table and gripped the edge, opening his eyes slowly.

Tobirama briefly considered upping the stakes by throwing Mito's name into the mixture - but he knew he didn't need to. It seemed unnecessarily cruel anyway - and it was not wise to tug at emotional strings in an argument like this. Besides, Hashirama on the other hand would be well aware of his brother's predicament, on top of the fact that he was most suitable for the job either way. Tobirama  was  a very good scientist, no matter who had been tethered to the leash.

Still. His brother's voice was heavy when he spoke again. "They still will receive every bit of safety we can grant them. And no unnecessary or cruel tests will be conducted." His gaze swayed to Tobirama, leaving no question about how much he meant that.

Tobirama arched an eyebrow slowly. He certainly wouldn't treat test subjects carelessly - they were in short supply, held vital information and were his only outlet for testing substances he'd end up using on - you. "Of course." His voice still was icy, though.

Hashirama held his gaze a moment longer, but then turned to the laboratory gear in front of him. "Let's begin."

They set up a variety of standard chemical procedures to determine the contents of the leash - different experiments that would, based on their results, narrow down the ingredients until they finally knew what exactly they were dealing with. The problem was that for some of the herbs in question more detailed chemical information was not available and thus they needed to test them themselves - fortunately, Konoha had all of the plants available in the first place. No further delays - except for the time the experiments themselves would take.

Tobirama had a pretty good feeling about the results - the answer to what was in the leash was getting closer, at least its contents. Not just for the fact that if the Stone shinobi had used Konoha herbs for this - but also based on his own experience with poisons, toxins and what he had seen in you.

Frankly what truly set him on edge was the very real - very likely - possibility that this drug was a far more devious concoction using not just chemical components, but also chakra itself which would be more difficult to replicate - counter, too.

Not just difficult. Near impossible.

He had to fight that thought down. One step after the other. Nonetheless it made his work swift as he couldn’t help but wonder if he was running from something that’d be crushing him.

You, actually.

After they had set up the last experiment, he gazed at the clock. There still was time before you'd wake from the sleep he had put you in - before the first phase of the leash had worn off.

He decided to put it to good use.

"Get more rest, Tobirama," Hashirama advised, after they both finished washing their hands. Was there concern in his voice?

Tobirama snorted. "I did that. Don't worry, anija." He went for the door, holding it open for Hashirama.

His brother rolled his eyes. "I don't think Y/n would appreciate how you're treating yourself, brother." He mentioned in passing.

Tobirama's gut churned, his gaze narrowing immediately. He knew precisely what kind of response Hashirama had sought to elicit from him. Right now, it only resonated in his worry and heartache. "Maybe. But she's not here because I'm being forced to drug her and put her to sleep after."

Hashirama stopped in his tracks to stare at his brother incredulously. "Do you practice this kind of caustic demeanor?"

Tobirama locked the door and shook his head. "No, it comes naturally. Easily, actually after everything that happened. And all that still goes on." His scarlet gaze turned to his brother again.

Hashirama's shoulders drooped. "We'll save her, Tobirama."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to soothe the tight feeling in his chest. "We will."

Hashirama returned to his duties while Tobirama returned to a place he had high hopes for: the interrogation and torture unit's headquarters. Except there was one problem: it was late evening by now. Night, almost. A triviality to Tobirama, but it might cause a problem now of course. He still opted to stride in like he was part of the unit altogether - at the very least, they should know to expect him again after his first visit.

What a pleasant surprise it had been to actually find out not only had they known he'd return in a timely manner but also were prepared to receive him at this time of the day.

He could get used to that.

"Sleep deprivation is one of the most effective ways of… gaining information," his guide, Ikuro of the Yamanaka clan, provided after Tobirama had wondered that the building was still this busy this time of the day. A burly man, probably quite a couple of years older than Tobirama, who carried himself with remarkable grace for someone of his stature. His voice was deceptively friendly.

Tobirama was satisfied he seemed to be the one in charge of the six Stone shinobi.

"So, what have you found out about this 'leash'?"

Ikuro pursed his lips in a displeased manner. "I'm afraid they're all well trained when it comes to resisting our… methods," he answered slowly, waving for Tobirama to follow him down the corridor and the stairs he knew would take him to their cells.

However now, they took a turn into an adjourned office - where Ikuro picked up a piece of paper from the desk. "We've gleaned shreds from them, so far. The leash is more than just a drug administered to a victim, it seems."

Tobirama's neck hair rose up. Crossing his arms, he narrows his eyelids again to give Ikuro a glare that left little open about the urgency. Frankly he half had a mind to just snatch the piece of paper from him and read it himself.

Ikuro however was not fazed the slightest, in fact he had not even gazed up at Tobirama. "We can't say for sure yet, but what we learned strongly suggests it is a combination of drugs with some form of chakra. A jutsu, even, possibly."

That hit him like a punch in the gut.

Tobirama took a step to the side and raked through his hair with a hand. He knew this - his brother and himself had expected it, it had been logical - but to get the information now still felt like a physical strike. The heavy feeling inside of him had spread from his chest to his shoulders. He felt his heart hammer again in a painfully familiar war as he took deep and even breaths through the heartache that gripped him again.

Quickly, he forced himself to regain his composure. His task had just become a lot more difficult. He had known, really, prepared for this, so he should be calm - even if this was near impossibl-

No. He must not think that way.

Researching jutsu was even more up his alley than anything else in this mess. In fact, he’d go as far as to say the involvement of chakra made this all the more his business. Really, the daunting fact was he had never encountered anything like the leash and without a lead he might as well search for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

While you were dying.

He felt like shouting profanities. Actually, he should've expected this. He felt stupid for even thinking it might be as simple as finding out what herbs they used.

"I see. Anything else?" His baritone voice was neutral.

"The effects of the drug, though ... I'm sure you know those already." Ikuro considered him with a careful glance now.

Tobirama was getting more impatient. He sighed. "There still might be more information." He extended his hand. "Please?", he hoped that had sounded as polite as he wanted it to.

And not as irritated as he felt.

Ikuro hesitated again. “I must warn you.”

Tobirama’s gaze narrowed as he once more reminded himself why it was important to behave, not snatch up the paper and read it. Even so, he wouldn’t conceal the irritation in his voice anymore. Anyone who tries to stall him would burn up his patience faster than dry parchment. “I am very confident whatever it is, I can take it. As you know, I’ve seen and done a lot myself at this point.”

The burly man was entirely unfazed and only shook his head dismissively. “It is possible the information we got here might be flawed, or even incorrect, serving only to demoralise you. The prisoners are well equipped to handle torture. This? This was almost too easy to obtain. And… it isn’t pretty.”

An ice-cold shiver ran down Tobirama’s spine. He had a distinct notion as to what part of the leash this information did pertain. His jaws clenched so hard muscles hurt - only for a moment as he steeled himself for what was to come. “I need to know everything.”

Ikuro handed him the precious sheet wordlessly then.

Tobirama read it at record speed.

And instantly, his stomach clenched in a most uncomfortable way by now he only thought his heart would be doing.

In great detail, the effects of the withdrawal from the leash were described - starting with what you had experienced down to far more sinister and horrible stages. First came fever, disorientation, muscle cramps. Then, pain followed - this section was so colorful Tobirama knew someone had directed it at him. Searing, burning, splicing - from the inside out the victim would suffer brutally. After the pain came the real damage to the victim’s organs as their own chakra would try to repel the disruptors - the perceived pain became that of actual tissue dying, extremely excruciating while the body shut down piece by piece. Victims were confined to their own heads but never far away enough to stop feeling the pain. Death would be mercy, at last.

He closed his eyes momentarily to force away the pictures of you in the hospital bed; pale, lifeless, unmoving.

That won’t happen.

He would not allow it.

Inhaling a sharp breath he tried to reason this might be just a ploy as Ikuro had stated - or not. It didn’t matter, because this wouldn’t come to pass. Yet it didn’t exactly make stomaching the other bits to this report easier. Specifically the few clues about the nature of the leash - the implication was clear.

Chakra was involved in some way.

The question now was to what extent - how sophisticated. Was it responsible for the effects on your chakra network and therefore by extension the withdrawal, their main problem? Or did the chakra alter the contents in such a fashion they affected the chakra network? Already, Tobirama began to devise tests to ascertain just that.

While fighting against the constricting tightness that wound around his chest. Stole his breath. Stabbed his heart. You wouldn’t be lying dead in a bed-

It was daunting. And yet-

"You've not managed to break them, yet?" He finally inquired, rising up an eyebrow questioningly, perfectly at ease.

If Ikuro was surprised that Tobirama handled himself well - outwardly - then he did not show it at all. "I'm afraid it's not that easy. Not only are all of them resilient, they've also been subjected to several mental protection jutsu. Befitting for a squad with their task."

Tobirama exhaled an exasperated sigh. "Of course." He was irritated. Nothing came easy, here.

"Except," Ikuro spoke up again, arching an eyebrow, "For the prisoner called Akio. I must admit, I'm impressed with your work there, Tobirama. Though I'm afraid you've gone a bit too far. He's… broken apart." Ikuro tilted his head slightly.

Tobirama felt no shred of regret or pity for his actions or Akio. It had been absolutely necessary. Maybe a shinobi like Ikuro would've made better work of him, but they did not have such a person available then. It was as simple as that. Besides, he simply couldn't see past the current predicament he - you - found yourself in. "He is lowest in rank and didn't even know about the 'leash' to begin with. But I'll be sure to take lessons next time," Tobirama added in a sarcastic tone.

Ikuro smiled drily. "Oh, don't get me wrong - it was good work. Just intense."

Tobirama huffed. "It was an intense moment." He decided to leave it at that and switch the topic: "I'm currently replicating the 'leash' in order to secure Y/n's immediate survival," he explained as neutrally as he could, but the constricting sensation around his chest was becoming worse. "I'll need to test out my experiments results. I've gotten my brother's permission to do so on these six prisoners."

Ikuro's eyebrows rose slowly. A smile formed that might have creeped out a more fainthearted person easily. "I see. Well, we welcome such inventions," his tone was velvety.

Tobirama wasn't sure how to feel about that just now. This leash was a powerful weapon that would fit well in Konoha's arsenal. He left it at that.

"It might help cracking them open, too," Tobirama added.

"Indeed." Ikuro grinned now. Then, he mellowed somewhat. "We'll be working both angles. The leash, as well as breaking them to get the information needed to cure Y/n."

Tobirama gave a somber nod. That he was sure of.

By the time Tobirama walked back to the hospital, the moon was shining pale over the village. Still, he spared his surroundings no second thought.

His focus was entirely on his objective once more. It was easy to smother the looming sense of doom that haunted him by breathing the fresh air. Venting his mind. Reorganise, recuperate. Walks like this often helped him. There was a lot of work to be done.

You still were living on borrowed time, as it was.

And today he had learned that extending that time alone will be a far more difficult task than he initially had thought it to be. Frankly identifying the contents of the leash was the least of his problems now - he was quite confident the experiments they had set up would already show what herbs are involved. But the modification with chakra - to what extent had it altered the substance? Or was it chakra itself that caused the disruption? A jutsu?

Questions he had asked himself before, that now bored into his mind in a fashion that almost caused a headache.

The clock was ticking fast, and all he could do was come up with more questions while it stole the breath from his lungs. If he didn’t find answers fast, then you’d die one of the most horrible deaths he ever read about.

It was a huge, damn mess.

"Fuck!", he shouted suddenly, and in a rare fit of unleashed anger, he kicked at the next pebble in front of him.

A groan pressed past his clenched teeth as he raked through his short hair again. He huffed. Then he sighed. When he entered the hospital lobby and checked the clock in the hall, he cursed under his breath. His little excursion had taken longer than he had expected - he should have used his hiraishin seal to get to you. You should be awake again by now.

[yandere-society]

First, Do No Harm

Sypnosis: Dr. Kim is well known as the most skilled heart surgeon in the hospital, but when you notice his mortality statistics seem skewered, you discover all is not what it seems. Now, Dr. Kim is offering you a choice: will you join him? Or become yet another broken heart beneath his scalpel?

Pairing: Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, mentions/descriptions of death and dying, blood, murder?

You stand back, holding your breath as Dr. Kim Namjoon removes the camera from his young patient’s chest and smiles. “Another day, another Tetralogy of Fallot.”

The nurses and residents clap politely, and you join in. Dr. Kim is a legend within the hospital and across the country. You have nothing but admiration for the greatest pediatric cardiologist of your generation. And you, as a senior anesthesiologist, have gotten to witness some of his greatest achievements.

“Great work, everyone. He’s going to be just fine,” Dr Kim says, catching your eye and grinning. You can’t see his smile through his mask, but his trademark dimples appear below his eyes.

Those dimples have done nothing but enthrall just about every hospital employee since day one, and sometimes even you have to wonder if you’re truly immune to his mesmerizing gaze.

As you replace the equipment on the anesthesia cart and switch off the many machines that kept your patient asleep for the duration of his surgery, your attention turns to tomorrow’s patient– a fifty-two year old liver transplant recipient named Mr. Lim. You’ve already prepared his plan, and it should be pretty straightforward. 

You’ve always loved the art of anesthesiology– it turned surgery from a lowly last resort to a tolerable option, from screaming and bloody struggles to a quiet and hyper-focused operating room. Anesthesia set the stage for the advancement of medicine, and you’ve never thought twice about your choice of specialty.

Plus, it means you get to see Dr. Kim, the handsome cardiologist, whenever you’re working on a surgery with him. You smile at the thought. That’s great, too.

As you scrub out, your thoughts drift to your plans. Valentine’s Day is next week and you promised your newly-engaged coworker you would be on call. Dr. Jung asked you days ago to take over for him so that he could spend the evening with his fiancé. With your reputation for being perpetually single, you were happy to help. Besides, you like helping people.

“Dr. L/n.” You see Dr. Kim slide in beside you as he, too, scrubs his hands and arms up to the elbow. It seems you two were the last to file out of the OR.

“Dr. Kim,” you reply. “Great work on the Tetralogy of Fallot today.” It’s a relatively common, but sometimes deadly, combination of birth defects. The patient today was a five-year-old boy, and when you explained to him that you would insert a breathing tube to help him during the surgery, he looked at you with such trust in his eyes that for a second, it was you who couldn’t breathe.

“It was a collaborative effort,” the cardiologist says smoothly. “Definitely wouldn’t be possible without you.”

You feel a blush warm your cheeks when he turns to you. Dr. Kim has one of those faces whose every line reveals a particular grace– each worried wrinkle seems to have a meaning, and every controlled movement tries to say or hide something which you can never decipher. Despite working together for years, you’ve never had a real conversation with him. Maybe now’s a good time to start?

“Doing anything fun for Valentine’s Day?” You ask casually. Dr. Kim coughs and you realize your mistake, your blood running cold: “Oh, god, no, I’m not hitting on you!”

Dr. Kim chuckles as he dries his hands. “Don’t worry about it, Dr. L/n. No, I don’t have plans– I believe I have a surgery scheduled.”

“Yeah? Anything interesting?”

“Some teenagers got drunk and messed with fireworks during New Year’s Eve. One of the explosions caught a kid in the chest, she got some shrapnel embedded in her interventricular septum. She’s got a leak between ventricles, small enough that I guess they didn’t notice until now. Any bigger…” he pauses. “It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Oh, geez.” You wince. You can’t imagine the young girl’s terror and pain. You hate suffering, despise violence. It’s one of the reasons you chose your specialty.

Dr. Kim shrugs. “It’s a tough job. Kids are so healthy and able to bounce back, we can’t always tell when something’s wrong– their bodies just try to adapt to it. And the heart has a direct line to our psychological state; when they get scared, when they feel trauma or pain…” Dr. Kim meets your eyes. “It damages them even more.”

You stare at him, a rush of sympathy enveloping you. You’re used to turning off your emotions; numbing yourself to suffering is another part of the job. But where your responsibility is to keep patients safe and calm, relaxed and unfeeling, Dr. Kim’s hands hold within them the lifeblood of each person on the operating table. He, too, is only human, and every life lost must surely weigh on him.

“Right, well…” Dr. Kim chuckles quietly. “I’ll see you around, Dr. L/n.”

“Hey, Dr. Kim.” You hurry after him while shaking your hands dry. Dr. Kim stops, eyeing you curiously. “If you ever need to talk to someone, my therapist is pretty good.”

“Your… therapist?” Dr. Kim adjusts his glasses, his tone questioning.

You take a breath. You’re always the first to promote therapy to people in your profession. “Our jobs can get tough. I started seeing someone years ago, and I probably wouldn’t still have my job if I hadn’t. And you, with your responsibilities–” you fidget. “I can get you some recommendations if that might help you.” You hope you’re not overstepping your bounds.

Dr. Kim smiles cooly, his dimples remaining hidden. “Thank you for the offer, Dr. L/n. I appreciate it.”

“Ah, call me Y/n,” you reply automatically. All your friends in the hospital refer to you by your first name anyways. Hopefully an esteemed professional like Dr. Kim won’t find such a suggestion inappropriate.

The cardiology surgeon raises a brow. “Then I’m Namjoon.”

“I- oh.” You smile briefly. “Alright. Well, I have to get to my rounds– I’ll see you later.”

With that, you turn, reaching for your pager. You don’t notice the surgeon’s eyes follow you down the hall. You don’t see him smile widely, his dimples at last appearing in earnest beneath his glasses.

»»————-　♔　————-««

After you return from your lunch break later that day, Dr. Min, your favorite diagnostician, waves you down. “Y/n!”

You smile, approaching. “Hey– what’s with all the stuff?” Dr. Min’s arms are full of stacks of files, so high his face is obstructed.

“Some bug in the system deleted a bunch of the digital archives from the last couple months,” Dr. Min grumbles. “Luckily we have physical copies of the hospital records, but now we have to reinput the data. I made the mistake of offering to help the hapless interns assigned to fix it.”

You laugh, grabbing a stack of paper out of Dr. Min’s arms. “I’m finished with my rounds today– I’ll help.”

“Ah, Y/n, you��re an angel,” Dr. Min sighs with relief. “It shouldn’t take more than a few hours and if you get paged, I’ll just add another intern to the roster.”

You shift the papers in your grip. “I’ve got a conference call in a couple hours, but I should be fine until then.” After Dr. Kim’s– Namjoon’s– cold cordiality, a friendly face like Yoongi’s is a welcome relief.

Still, Dr. Kim has certainly earned the right to whatever behavior he wants to express; it was his groundbreaking paper that led to the testing of a new surgical procedure to more effectively repair a patent ductus arteriosus and a number of other birth defects. He was the keynote speaker for the recent cardiologists’ convention in the city, and his surgeries are always well-attended; you’ve heard of interns competing for the chance to scrub in and witness him in action. Dr. Kim’s name alone is enough to add a layer of intellect to any conversation. Patients have traveled across the country for his advice.

You follow Dr. Min to the records room, where five interns are already typing away, recording and inputting patient data and medical records.

“How big an operation is this?” You wonder aloud, setting down your files.

Dr. Min sighs. “Big. It’s a disaster, and the hospital board wants to keep it quiet. Everything’s online these days; this fuckup will make it look like we’re behind the times.”

You laugh. “God forbid. Okay, I’ll input the surgery data and you can take diagnostics.”

Dr. Min nods, and you get to work, grabbing files off the pile and settling down in front of a computer.

Patient name: Jeon, Jeongguk.

Diagnosis: Heart arrhythmias. You wince. Heart arrhythmias are a tell of potential cardiac arrest, and the patient would probably benefit from a defib implant.

Procedure: ICD. ICD stands for implantable cardioverter defibrillator– you were right!

Attending: Dr. Kim Namjoon.

“Oh?” you murmur aloud, staring at the familiar name. Today’s full of Namjoon, isn’t it?

When you type in the report, the computer dings, automatically redirecting you to the patient’s file. A big red word greets you next to his name: DECEASED.

You wince. The patient was a young man, and it’s a shame that people die when they should be at the pinnacle of health. You glance briefly at the remainder of the patient’s file, looking for the autopsy report– but you find none.

Still, you quickly shake yourself out of a fog. You want to finish as many as possible before your conference call. Patient name. Diagnosis. Procedure. Attending. Medical history. Additional notes. You try not to pay attention to how many of the patients have the red DECEASED mark on their charts. No surgery, no matter how small, is without risks. If they’re on the operating table, something is already wrong. But why do people have to suffer? Why do they have to die?

Dr. Kim’s– Namjoon’s– name pops up several more times, often following some impressive procedure.

“Kim’s been busy,” you say after an hour of inputting data.

“Hm?” Dr. Min’s eyes are trained on his screen.

“There’s like… hundreds of surgical procedures in these files. Dr. Kim’s responsible for a lot of them.”

“Psh, that’s just ‘cause Dr. Park has been slacking,” Dr. Min snorts, stretching. “I caught him napping in the call room the other day.”

“We’ve all been there.”

Dr. Min laughs. “Sure, but I’ve never been there while my pager was going crazy!”

“No. Was it?” You gasp, scandalized. You sense the interns leaning in, desperate for the attendings’ scraps of gossip.

“Heh, yeah. Anyways, Y/n, why don’t you head out? I can handle the rest–” Dr. Min’s voice turns loud and deep. “And anyone who cares more about Dr. Park’s naps than the work right in front of them can stay here until we’re finished.”

You grin at seeing the interns scramble back to their stations. You remember your years as a medical intern and later, resident– spending so long at the bottom of the food chain humbles a person permanently.

You check your watch– you have just enough time to check on tomorrow’s patient before your conference call. You want to make sure none of his vitals have changed enough to warrant adjustments to his anesthesia plan.

You stroll through the corridors, eventually coming up to the liver transplant recipient’s room. It was a hastily scheduled surgery; the donor liver is being flown overnight to reach him in the morning.

“Good afternoon, Mr- oh.” Standing at the patient’s bedside, examining his chart, is… “Dr. Kim?”

Dr. Kim slides his hands into his pockets and straightens up. You’re reminded of how much taller than you he is. “Ah, Y/n, hello.”

“Hi. I wasn’t aware you were involved with this patient,” you say carefully. What would a childrens’ cardiologist be doing for an adult transplant patient? Still, Dr. Kim must have his reasons. He’s too brilliant a surgeon not to.

“Oh, I was just looking,” Namjoon replies. “I’ll be on my way now, if you don’t mind.”

“Just loo- uh, okay, I guess?” You step aside, allowing him to brush past you. That’s weird, but he’s Dr. Kim Namjoon. He can do whatever he wants.

“So, Mr. Lim…” You look down at your chart before double checking his heart monitor. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” the patient mumbles. “And grateful. My stomach hurts a bit.”

You smile. Donor organs are hard to come across, and so many patients need them. “Tomorrow’s the start of the rest of your life, huh?”

Mr. Lim smiles, his eyes fluttering closed. “The start of the rest of my life…”

Looks like he’s fallen asleep. You close the door behind you– the surgery is scheduled for 4 in the morning, so you’ll see him soon. Still, you wonder what Namjoon was doing in the room.

After your conference call and hours of reviewing charts from your apartment, you fall into a deep sleep, your pager at your fingertips.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Ah!” Your eyes fly open and you automatically grab for your pager, checking the time. 1:30AM? Your alarm isn’t set to ring for another hour. It’s a message from Dr. Kim Taehyung, Mr. Lim’s transplant surgeon: Call me.

Now fully awake, you’re quick to obey. The phone barely has time to ring before–

“Y/n?”

“Yeah. Taehyung, what’s up? Did the surgery get rescheduled?”

“No. Uh, sleep in today, okay, Y/n?”

“What?” You straighten up, already stepping into your shoes. “Of course not. What’s going on?”

Taehyung’s voice is hardened, but you can hear an exhausted kind of grief leak through. “We were too late. This morning’s liver recipient just passed.”

Your heart stutters. “Huh? That’s ridiculous– I checked on him yesterday!”

“Acute liver failure, most likely. The nurses must have given him too many pain meds, which probably accelerated the damage. Time of death was an hour ago.”

“Ah, shit. Shit.” You run your hand through your hair. The start of the rest of your life, you’d said to him… You were too late. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“Hey, Y/n, it’s no one’s fault, understand?” Taehyung says sharply. He knows you too well.

“Yeah.” Your therapist loves to say the same thing. “I’ll see you later. Send me the autopsy report?”

“Yep. See ya.”

Unable to sleep, you fall back onto your bed. Mr. Lim was so close to lifesaving surgery– how could it have been too late? My stomach hurts, he’d said. You should have taken him more seriously. Where were the nurses? One should have been present. And you, as the damn anesthesiologist, should at least have noticed he had too many analgesics in his system. Shit.

After several more restless hours, you throw on your white coat and drive to the hospital. Even if the surgery was called off, there’s still plenty to do. Dr. Min is probably still reinputting records into the hospital database– surely he could use some help.

Besides, if you don’t help anyone today, you think your heart might explode.

Luckily, Dr. Min is more than happy to have an extra pair of hands typing away.

“Did you hear about the patient that got his left arm amputated?” Dr. Min says while you scan another report.

“If you say they’re all right now, I’m going to amputate your arm,” you reply dryly, checking out the next file. Oh, another operation by Namjoon. Some sort of emergency reparative surgery? The patient is listed as a nine-year-old girl.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dr. Min says jovially. 

DECEASED. A dark monster wells up inside you at the word.

“Fuck!” You yell, slamming your hands on the table and probably traumatizing two interns. For once, you don’t care. You’re so sick of pain, of suffering, and… “Why do people keep dying?”

“Woah! Hey, Y/n, c’mon…” Dr. Min takes the paper from you. “Deep breaths. This has always been part of the job– you know that.”

“It’s not fair,” you whisper, that monster in your chest weighing you down. “She was nine. Nine, Yoongi.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, glancing at the report in his hand. “Son of a bitch. Yeah, that’s… well, it’s part of the– what?”

“What?”

“It says the surgery was successful. Why’d she die?”

You purse your lips, forcing yourself to calm. “The cause of death should be listed. Or there should be an autopsy report attached.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “I’m not seeing anything. Huh. And the attending surgeon…?”

“Namjoon.”

Yoongi hands you back the report. “Hold up. You’re on a first-name basis with Dr. Kim Namjoon?”

You stare at the surgeon’s printed name on the sheet, and all the power and reputation attached to it. “I guess.” Something’s bothering you– and you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Hey, Yoongi, I’m going to run down to the morgue, okay?”

Dr. Min shrugs. “Go ahead, I hate that place. See you later.”

Yeah, you hate it too. You definitely hate it too. But some irksome curiosity won’t let this go– Mr. Lim’s body would be in the morgue right now, if he passed away last night. What you’re hoping to find, you don’t know. But you know one thing– Mr. Lim shouldn’t have died, and neither should have that nine-year-old girl.

And their only connection is Dr. Kim Namjoon.

As you take the elevator down to the morgue attached to the hospital, you try to make sense of your thoughts. Why was Namjoon in Mr. Lim’s room before his death?

Before long, you’re greeting Dr. Kim Seokjin, your favorite medical examiner.

“Ey, Y/n, how’s it going?” Seokjin asks happily, removing his face mask as he steps out of the autopsy suite. “You never come for a visit down here.”

“Yeah, I had enough of brain cutting in medical school,” you offer with a dry smile. “Listen, Seokjin, I need a favor– can I check out the body of the liver failure patient from last night?”

“For you, babe? Anything. He’s right up front.” Seokjin walks back to the many refrigerated doors, each housing or awaiting a body.

You’re quick to grab some gloves, and Seokjin rolls out Mr. Lim’s body. Your breath catches– there he is, the same man you spoke to only yesterday. When you first entered the medical field, you had thought dead bodies simply looked asleep. Now, with years of experience under your belt, you’ve learned to recognize that extra layer of weight, the particular stiffness in one’s limbs, the complete lack of motion in one who’s passed.

“I just want to check him for liver failure symptoms,” you say. If Mr. Lim really did die from acute liver failure, his eyes would be yellow from jaundice and his belly would be comically swollen and…

And it’s not. What?

“Seokjin,” you murmur, eyeing the man’s body. He’s no more bloated than he was last night. “In… In your professional opinion, did this man die of acute liver failure?”

“I can’t really say this early, but…” Seokjin shines a flashlight into Mr. Lim’s open, unseeing eyes. You notice only a slight yellow tinge, hardly at the extreme of acute liver failure. “He’s certainly missing the external symptoms typical of liver failure. Unless I see a lot of internal evidence pointing to the contrary during autopsy, I’d have to wager on another manner of death. Judging from the position of the hands and state of his muscles, he was in a lot of pain. Why do you ask?”

Your heart sinks. “No reason. Hey, can you pull the autopsy report for the girl who died last month? I didn’t find it on her file.”

“I know exactly who you’re talking about.” Seokjin frowns, grief temporarily clouding his gaze. “In all my experience, I’ve only had five children on the table– and she was the youngest. But the report should have been attached to her file.”

You shrug. “A lot of the digital archives were lost recently.”

“Let me find the physical copy.” Seokjin returns Mr. Lim to the fridge and strides into the morgue office, sifting through files. “Ah, here. Cause of death is listed as unknown.”

“Unknown?” You wrinkle your brow. How, in a hospital full of doctors, medical examiners, and expert diagnosticians, how can they not be certain of how this child died? “What’s the manner of death?”

“Dunno. There was evidence of myocardial contusions, but simple bruises on her heart like the ones she had shouldn’t have killed her. It’s probably a combination of the stress from the original injury as well as the operation itself– but it’s not enough evidence to call it natural.”

You take the autopsy report, feeling oddly numb. Two inexplicable deaths, and both with a connection to the famed surgeon.

You know there’s probably nothing wrong. Sometimes people die when they shouldn’t, it’s a fact of medicine. And Dr. Kim is brilliant, popular, well-known. It’s not possible for a man like him to… what, deliberately harm a patient? No, no way. He took the same oath you did, made the same promises: To help a patient to the best of your ability; to share knowledge; to admit, if necessary, ignorance, and… first, do no harm.

You take a deep breath. You’re going to look over some more files in between surgeries. And… you’re going to keep an eye on Dr. Kim Namjoon.

With a quick thanks to Seokjin, you once more join the land of the living. You barely turn the corner before bumping into–

“Dr. Kim!”

The surgeon chuckles, his eyes dark behind his glasses. “I thought we were doing first names now?”

“Uh…” You gulp. Does he know what’s on your mind? “Right, forgot.”

“How are you, Y/n?” Namjoon doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, instead choosing to lean against the wall as you stand, frozen, before him.

“Good. Yeah.” You clear your throat. For some reason, his eyes suddenly remind you of Mr. Lim’s– cold, unseeing, dead. “I was helping Dr. Min with the data loss, since my surgery this morning was canceled.”

“I heard about that. Liver failure, right? It happens.” Namjoon sighs and frowns with the same kind of expression as you saw before you recommended therapy to him– a kind of sympathy that you can now only see as fake. Was it all a lie, or are you just being paranoid?

“Actually, I just checked on his body in the morgue,” you say carefully. Is it your imagination, or did Namjoon stiffen slightly? “And his symptoms weren’t characteristic of liver failure. It was strange.”

“Really?” Namjoon’s eyes don’t quite meet yours, as though they’re looking through you– it’s unnerving, but some instinct tells you to continue.

“Yes. A-and I was wondering… what were you doing in his room yesterday?” It really doesn’t make sense– nothing short of a personal connection to the man would explain Namjoon’s presence in his room.

“What was I doing to your patient?” Namjoon repeats, a smile appearing on his face– dimples and all. You nod, and he leans closer, closer. “That’s easy. I was killing him.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

You take a deep breath, smoothing down your slacks before looking over your shoulder. You still haven’t decided whether he’s following you or not, but you don’t want to take any chances.

For the past four days, you’ve called in every favor you can to keep from coming in to the hospital, instead reviewing charts, designing plans and taking calls from home. But now it’s the morning of February 14– Valentine’s Day– and you got what you wanted: a meeting with the hospital’s board of directors. You’re back in the hospital for the first time since Namjoon spoke those dreadful words, and you’re scared; what if he hurts you for what you’re about to say?

Be brave, Y/n.

You walk in at 9:00 precisely, your stacks of files landing heavily on the table. “Hello.”

“Ah, Doctor.” The president of the hospital, Dr. Haden, says calmly. “You called this meeting to address some concerns?”

“Yes.” You grit your teeth. “My name is Dr. Y/n L/n, and I believe Dr. Kim Namjoon is deliberately harming patients.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

Two hours later, you leave the conference room, walk across the hall to the restroom, check to make sure the restroom is empty, lock yourself in a stall, and…

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!”

»»————-　♔　————-««

The board of executives was dead silent while you spoke: you had gone back through three years of patient records to find that while Dr. Kim’s success rate in surgery was high, a higher-than-average portion of his patients were dying within weeks of finding themselves on his table. You can’t prove that he’s hurting patients who aren’t his, like Mr. Lim, but you have to assume it’s true.

“These are children and teenagers,” you’d said, voice breaking. After all, he’s a pediatric surgeon. “I’ve done the math, and you may check these figures: Dr. Kim’s post-op mortality statistics are unethically high.”

“Perhaps, but–”

You weren’t done. In your digging over the last several days, you discovered something else. “Additionally, during the data breach last week, it appears that the autopsy reports of Dr. Kim’s deceased patients were almost entirely deleted. All that remain would be the physical reports, a number of which I have here.” After you explained your suspicions to Seokjin, he… well, he didn’t quite believe you, but he was happy to provide you with the reports. “Every single one of the deleted autopsy reports has the cause of death listed as unknown, as in, there wasn’t enough evidence to declare it a completely natural death!”

“Dr. L/n!” Dr. Haden says, raising his voice. “You’re talking about an esteemed fellow–”

“I am well aware of Dr. Kim’s stellar reputation. I wouldn’t be making such a weighty accusation without absolute certainty in my statistics. Additionally, a patient of mine died prematurely after I saw Dr. Kim visiting their room– you can check the camera footage to see. When I asked Dr. Kim what he was doing in the room, he said, quote, ‘I was killing him.’”

When you heard Namjoon say those words, you felt your blood run cold. Was he lying? Was it a joke? If it wasn’t a joke, why would he just admit his crime to you? He had followed it up with something somehow scarier–

“And guess what?” Namjoon had said, the smile never leaving his face. “I’ll never get caught.”

You swallow through your nerves. “It is my opinion that Dr. Kim should immediately be suspended from his duties pending investigation.”

There, you’d done all you could. And yet…

“We appreciate your efforts, Dr. L/n.” Dr. Haden had said after the board deliberated for not-long-enough. “But what you have presented is circumstantial. We have not found sufficient evidence to open such a serious investigation into a respected medical professional such as Dr. Kim.”

»»————-　♔　————-««

Which is why you’re screaming in the bathroom. Dr. Kim is harming, maybe killing, his patients. He admitted it! The board was so enamored with his name and reputation that they weren’t able to see through to what you’ve come to realize must be a twisted interior. How can you feel safe ever again if Kim Namjoon walks these same halls? Your well of favors has dried up, and you promised Dr. Jung you’d be on call in the hospital tonight for Valentine’s Day.

Namjoon will be here too. A night for lovers…

And I’m spending it with a killer, you think with a shudder. Seokjin had told you that Mr. Lim had died in great pain; even though you don’t have evidence, you’re certain Namjoon must have had a hand in his suffering. Why would he want anyone to suffer?

And for goodness’ sake, why would he admit it to you?

“Seokjin, you believe me, right?” You ask the medical examiner later as you return the files to the morgue. Since you’re back to work, you’ve changed from your suit into the more appropriate hospital scrubs and white coat.

“You really cannot tell me Dr. Kim Namjoon is a serial killer and expect me to believe you, babes,” Seokjin replies. “That’s like saying Mother Theresa stole from the poor.”

“Which she like… maybe did?”

“It’s Kim Namjoon, Y/n! He’s a genius– everyone idolizes the guy! Serial killers aren’t that hot and smart!”

“Seokjin, I don’t. Feel. Safe.” You hiss. “Not around him!”

“Around who?”

You swivel around to see… ah, beans. “Dr. Kim.”

He smiles. “Y/n. I’m starting to think you don’t want to call me Namjoon.” He nods at Seokjin. “Dr. Kim.”

Seokjin smiles. “Back atcha. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you had the toxicology report for that nineteen-year-old with the blunt trauma?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The one from the car accident, with the naked Jennifer Lopez tattoo?”

“Ohh, yeah, Lopez Guy. Let me grab that for you.” Seokjin strides into his office, shutting the door behind him.

“No, wait-” Shit. You and Namjoon are left alone, surrounded by dead bodies. Fantastic.

“Haven’t seen you around lately, Y/n,” Namjoon says, an icy smile painting his handsome face.

“Y-Yeah, I was sick,” you reply. “Came down with something I must’ve picked up in the infectious diseases ward.” I was avoiding you, your untouchable reputation, your killing hands.

“That’s a shame. I’m glad to see you’re back and feeling better, just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

“You–” you’re evil.

“Here ya go, Dr. Kim.” Seokjin returns, handing Namjoon a file. “I also emailed it to you.”

“Thanks. Hey, mind if I borrow Y/n for a second?” Namjoon says, a strong hand gripping your shoulder. Shitshitshitshit.

“Uh…” Seokjin must see the panic in your eyes. “Y’know, I think I needed her down here…”

Yes, thank you.

“Oh, it’ll only be a second. Call it an urgent matter.” Namjoon turns the full force of his dimpled smile onto Seokjin. “You know how it is.”

“Ah, alright, sure.” Seokjin says faintly, his voice enchanted. Namjoon steers you into the elevator, and your only solace is that the entire hospital is monitored. But those eyes…

He’s going to kill me.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/n.” Namjoon says eventually, breaking the elevator’s silence.

Your heart pounding in your chest, you turn to him. “Why not? You hurt Mr. Lim. He died in pain– how could you?”

Namjoon shrugs casually as the elevator door opens. “We all have our vices. C’mon, this way.”

He admitted it. He just admitted it– how can he not have been caught?

Namjoon stops so suddenly you almost run into him. “We’re here.”

“Where?”

The surgeon taps the door beside him. “Your new friend’s room.” With an iron grip, he pulls you into the room and shuts the door behind him.

It’s a regular hospital room– complete with a patient, a sleeping young woman attached to an IV drip, bandages decorating her limbs.

“What happened to her?” you whisper.

“Got hit by a drunk driver. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a severe concussion.”

You examine her, overtaken by habit built over the years. “All survivable.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Sure. But that’s what I like– people who could survive.”

You take a step back. “W-what?”

Namjoon reaches down, caressing the patient’s cheek. “People in the prime of their lives. People who have years and years ahead of them. Cutting those years short– stealing their lives away–” Namjoon groans, a low, almost erotic, rumble from deep in his throat. “I love it.”

“I–” you stare wildly around the room, looking for the security camera.

“Don’t bother,” Namjoon says without turning. “The camera’s been broken for months. So was the one in Mr. Lim’s room.”

“You… you just admitted it.” Your throat is bone-dry, and although every cell in your body is screaming for you to reach for the door, you’re rooted to the floor. “You killed Mr. Lim, you’re killing your patients!”

“Yes.”

On hearing that one word, that confirmation of the fears that have been growing within you for the past week, it takes everything you have simply to remain standing upright. “Why am I here? Are you going to kill me too?”

The surgeon chuckles. “Of course not. I told you, I’ll never hurt you. The hospital needs you.”

“Then why…?”

Namjoon shrugs. “My… methods are painful. The patients can be loud– they’re suffering, after all.”

You wince. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to push your buttons. “W-why don’t you knock them out first?” Oh god, are you actually making suggestions to a serial killer? You need to leave, need to call the police. Would they even believe you without concrete evidence? And why does Namjoon have to cause them pain?

“It’s not my expertise. Now,” Namjoon says, turning to you with a smirk. “If only I knew someone who was a specialist in anesthesia, who could keep a patient asleep and unfeeling, and who could completely eliminate their suffering?”

You stare at him, realization dawning. “You’re insane.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You think I’ll help you? We swore an oath, Namjoon!”

“You swore to help a patient to the best of your ability.” Namjoon advances until he’s only inches away. “She is going to die. That is a fact. You can report me to whoever you want, but like I told you– I’ll never get caught, and I always get what I want.”

“I–”

“She is going to die in great pain. I will make certain of that. And when she’s looking up at me, asking me why, begging me to let her live…” he leans down, his voice an emotionless whisper in your ear. “I will tell her exactly who is forcing her to suffer. And she will die with your name on her lips.”

You feel your knees go weak, and before you know it you’ve collapsed, catching yourself hard on the cold floor. “I-I–”

Namjoon crouches down next to you. “Think it over. You’re here on call all night, and besides, it’s Valentine’s Day.” He chuckles humorlessly. “We can make this our first date. Romantic, right?”

You still can’t bring yourself to speak, your head swimming with the cries and screams of all the suffering this man has caused. You would never help a psycho, never allow a murderer to continue. But… What can you do, if no one will believe you?

Namjoon cocks his head, clearly waiting for you to speak. When you can offer him only silence, he sighs. “Well, I have that kid’s reparative surgery coming up soon. I should be done in six or so hours, and after that, I’ll be back here. I hope you’ll be joining me.”

“How do you kill post-op?” You ask abruptly. You have to know, have to figure out how so many of his surgeries which were deemed successful were leading to DECEASED stamps days or weeks after the fact. If only they would die on the operating table, directly under his hand, maybe your statistics would be more compelling.

Namjoon pauses. “It’s pretty simple, actually.” He mimics holding a scalpel, and you shudder. How many lives had those hands cut short? “Depends on my mood, but usually during surgery, I make a hole in between ventricles– small enough that no one notices until the patient is discharged, but big enough to…” he winks. “You know. Achieve my goals.”

“Were you the one that caused that data breach?”

“Of course,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly. “Most people aren’t willing to look further than computers; if a piece of information isn’t online, it’s easy to forget about it, and assume it doesn’t exist.”

You bite your lip. “Why me?” He’s in between you and the door. Maybe if you keep him talking, some other doctor will come in and save you. Or will they only see the great Dr. Kim Namjoon and leave you alone?

“Why you? Well, Y/n, you found me out. You’re a brilliant anesthesiologist. And you hate to see people in pain.” He stands, stretching. “I’ll see you after the surgery, Y/n. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And with that he leaves you shivering on the floor, accompanied only by the steady beeps from the EKG, indicating a strong heartbeat– a heartbeat soon to cease. You stand on shaky legs, staring at the woman; she can’t be older than twenty-five, and despite dark bruises coloring her face, you can see she’s beautiful.

She will die with your name on her lips, his voice echoes in your head. The police won’t arrest him without more evidence; the hospital board is too busy singing Namjoon praises to see his bloodthirst.

As you walk out of the room, carefully closing the door behind you, you think about your oath to help patients to the best of your ability. If your ability won’t save her life… What could you do to help?

You could take her pain away, a very small voice inside you whispers. You quickly shake your head, guilty that you would even consider such an awful choice. You grab your laptop and bring it with you to the on-call room. You try to spend the time designing anesthesia plans for upcoming patients. It used to always calm you down to imagine your patients asleep, calm, unfeeling. During surgery, you manage a ventilator in order to breathe for your patients, making constant adjustments to their dosage, and generally allowing the surgeons a calm OR. You’re supposed to help, to ease suffering, to save their lives by allowing for complex, invasive surgeries.

Could you live with yourself if you used your knowledge to go against your oath? To help kill a patient?

You wouldn’t be killing them, that same voice argues, louder now. She’s going to die anyways. You’re saving her from suffering and feeling the pain of whatever he’s going to do to her.

And then what? How could you continue to call yourself a doctor, knowing what you had contributed to?

Forget about it. Forget about him. There were no cameras– as far as any jury knows, you were never aware of that girl in the first place. There are hundreds of patients passing through the hospital– you have no reason to know her. If the board opens an investigation– and you’re amazed they haven’t yet opened one into Namjoon’s crimes– you’re certainly not guilty. Right?

But you’ll know. You’ll know she died and that you did nothing to stop him.

Still, you don’t know what Namjoon is capable of. Sure, he said he wouldn’t hurt you, but what about your friends? Your family? Are they safe?

After several hours, you check the clock. It’s 8:00 at night, just around the time Dr. Jung must be sitting down to a Valentine’s Day dinner with his fiancé. When you agreed to cover his shift last week, you didn’t exactly expect this to be where you would end up.

You stare down at your glowing screen, your charts and lists doing nothing to ease the inescapable knowledge that in only a few hours’ time, Dr. Kim Namjoon will kill a patient. What can you do?

Stop him.

Help her sleep.

Risk your loved ones.

Save yourself.

“Gah!” You shove your chair out, unable to sit still for a moment longer. Already you feel like a fraud in your white coat– do you even deserve to wear it, for how much you’ve been considering Namjoon’s offer? He could hurt you in retaliation if you refused, hurt your friends, cause you to lose your job– after all, his influence is wide and his reputation spotless. He could easily blacklist you from working at another hospital. But would he?

If he’s willing to kill… You’re certain he’d do anything to get his way.

But, and you can’t stop yourself from returning to this point– he’s also willing to harm. You’ve witnessed patients die, both with and without anesthetic. The former is peaceful, simply a breath of air and then no more. The latter can be full of tears and pain, with muscles seized up even after death, a homage to the suffering that could always be avoided.

What the hell. How could you be considering this?

Silently, you stand up and navigate once more to the patient’s room, just catching a nurse as he exits. He brightens when he sees you, and you vaguely recognize him.

“Hey, Dr. L/n! How are you doing?”

“Ah- fine,” you reply distractedly.

The nurse seems to notice, eyeing you carefully. “Well, that’s good.. Are you here to check on Eve?”

Eve. Of course, she has a name– Eve.

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately, she’s just fallen back asleep, but all her vitals are looking good.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you manage before entering. You’re greeted by the sleeping young woman, breathing calmly, the monitors and machines surrounding her reassuring you that she’s as healthy as her body will let her be. Your anesthesia cart is right down the hall. It wouldn’t be difficult, or even strange, to bring it in here. Dr. Kim will be out of the OR soon. Should you do it?

“Mm… Doctor?”

You jump and turn. “O-Oh, you’re awake.”

Eve blinks sleepily. “Who are you?”

You swallow. “My name is Dr. L/n. I’m going to make you feel better, okay?”

The girl nods, then grimaces. “Thanks– my chest really hurts.”

You feel your heart breaking. How can you stand by, knowing how badly she’ll suffer under Namjoon’s hand? “You know what, let me get my cart over here, we can take care of that pain for you.”

“Thanks, Dr. L/n.” She said your name.

You pad down the hall to retrieve your cart. Even though nighttimes can be busy for the hospital, to you it feels deserted, as though the nurses and interns passing by are nothing more than ghosts. Or perhaps you’re the ghost?

You’re soon to return, wheeling cart which bears the mask, gas containers, breathing tubes, and other supplies to ensure a seamless operation. Eve has already fallen asleep again, her meds surely contributing to her exhaustion. It isn’t long before, as promised, Dr. Kim shows up.

“You came,” he says cooly, his voice void of surprise. Did he know?

You swallow. “I don’t want anyone to have to suffer,” you say simply.

Namjoon smiles, his dimples making an appearance. “I know.”

You can’t look at him as you expertly attach the mask to Eve’s face. Usually you would measure the dosage of nitrous oxide and Isoflurane to ensure she wakes up healthily and on time, but in this case… it’s not necessary. The woman barely stirs, and soon enough the EKG indicates she’s down for the count. Next, you insert a breathing tube into her trachea and attach it to a ventilator, letting the machine take over for Eve’s now-incapacitated lungs. She can’t feel, won’t cry out, and…

She won’t wake up. You step back, blinking tears out of your eyes. Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears, drowning out all common sense. “She’s all yours.” She’s innocent. You’re helping her, right? Easing her pain, holding off the terror, the suffering. If she’s going to die anyways, this is the best way that you, as a doctor, can help her.

Namjoon’s breathing hitches audibly, and you see his dark eyes trained on Eve’s face. “Usually they can see me…” he murmurs. “They look at me, and they’re so scared. Some people need to feel that fear, but I don’t.” He raises a clear syringe. “I just need to feel them go.”

It’s as though you don’t exist. “What’s in the syringe?”

He turns to you, his eyes as blown out and wild as you’ve ever seen them. “Oh, nothing.”

“N-nothing?”

Namjoon smiles, rubbing Eve’s arm fondly. “A little bit of air into a pulmonary vein–” he taps the empty syringe– “or as close to one as I can get, and her pretty little heart won’t know what to do. It’ll just look like the trauma caused her to go into cardiac arrest.”

“And she won’t feel a thing?” You whisper, watching as Namjoon inserts the needle into Eve’s arm, barely a milliliter of air entering her vein.

“That’s right. Thanks to you, she’s safe from harm.” Namjoon sets aside the syringe and presses a hand to Eve’s chest, over her heart. You spot his dimples make a cameo once more. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

You watch in silence for several moments before the EKG fibrillates wildly, beeping in alarm before flatlining– Eve is dead, without moving a muscle, without a single shout of pain.

She’s safe from harm. “Yeah,” you reply, staring down at your hands. Did you kill her, or save her? And what is this smile growing on your face? “Yeah. Beautiful.”

[renthony]

Betta 101: A Care Guide For the Uninformed

Y’all know betta fish, those cute little fuckers that want to fight anything and everything. These are my tiny assholes, Helios and Mercury:

[Image description: Two side-by-side photos of betta fish. The first photo shows Helios, a black halfmoon betta with yellow fins. He is swimming through the leaves of a plant rooted in colorful gravel. The second photo shows Mercury, a purple and pink veiltail betta, resting idle at the top of his aquarium. End image description.]

Betta fish are some of the most popular fish in the aquarium hobby, and no wonder! They’re cute! They have a wide variety of colors and fin shapes, and each one is truly beautiful. They stand out in any aquarium, especially in aquariums with darker-colored decorations.

The thing about bettas, though, is that there are a lot of misconceptions about how to take care of them. Every few days I see someone else buying a betta that they’re not equipped to care for, and it makes me so sad.

Because bettas are so damn popular, they’re also, sadly, one of the most mistreated pet fish on the market. Since I’ve spent a lot of time both learning about and caring for betta fish, I thought I’d put together a quick 101 guide and resource list for anyone interested in getting a betta of their own!

This’ll be pretty long, so the rest of the post is under a cut.

Rule Number One: Bettas are not decorations!

Because betta fish are so beautiful and attention-grabbing, they’re often thought of, and used as, nothing more than decorations. Betta fish in tiny bowls or cups are used as centerpieces at weddings, bettas get added to vases of cut flowers to add some pizzazz, and bettas get put in artsy glass bowls to brighten up some bank manager’s office somewhere.

None of those are acceptable ways to house a betta fish! Bettas are not decorations, and they need to be cared for by someone who loves and values them as a living creature, not an attention-grabbing bauble.

Rule Number Two: Bowls are bad!

There’s a very persistent myth about betta fish: “they live in puddles, so they don’t need very much space.” It’s why they wind up in things like centerpieces and vases so often. The thing is, just because betta fish are capable of surviving harsh conditions and minimal amounts of water for a while, it doesn’t mean they’re able to thrive.

Betta fish do not naturally live in puddles! They are native to Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam, and live in rivers, canals, and bodies of standing water such as rice paddies and flood plains. If a betta lives in a rice paddy or floodplain and the water level drastically decreases, bettas are equipped to survive those harsh conditions for a short period of time, but it is not a healthy way for them to live their entire lives. They require plenty of space to swim and claim territory.

The suggested minimum amount of water for a pet betta fish is 2.5 gallons, or 9.5 litres. Personally, I don’t like to keep a betta in anything less than 5 gallons, or 19 litres, but that’s just my preference because, on average, the smaller the aquarium, the more frequent the need for water changes and maintenance. Currently, the smallest tank I have is 10 gallons, which houses a single betta.

Rule Number Three: Temperature is important!

Wild bettas live in a tropical environment, which needs they need warmer water! Your betta aquarium should have a consistent, steady water temperature of between 74 and 80 degrees Fahrenheit, or 23 to 27 degrees Celsius.

Some people who live in warmer climates may not need to use a constant heater, but every aquarium should have a thermometer so you can check the temperature. If you can’t maintain a betta-appropriate temperature without a heater, you’ll need to get one.

Some aquarium heaters are pre-set to specific temperatures, which are fine as long as they’re preset to the right one, and some heaters are adjustable -- it doesn’t matter which one you get and is largely a matter of preference. I have both types of heater and find them equally easy to use, though adjustable heaters have the benefit of versatility should you want to keep different fish in the future.

Rule Number Four: Filters are a must!

You need a filter, period. There are many types of filter, and aquarium hobbyists have different preferences for different fish, but what matters is that a filter exists in your tank. The hang-on-the-back style filters that come in most aquarium kits are perfectly fine, though it’s important that your filter has a low flow, because betta fish can be battered around by strong currents in an aquarium. You should also avoid under-the-gravel style filters, as they are largely not effective enough to filter an appropriately-sized tank.

For those looking for a budget-friendly option, many betta keepers love sponge filters! I personally don’t use them, not for any particular reason other than hang-on-the-back filters were what I had on hand.

I personally don’t have a lot of experience with every kind of filter, so if you’re interested in more details about your filter options, I recommend these YouTube videos:

How to Choose The Right Filter For Your Aquarium!

10 Things You Should Know About Aquarium Filters

Fish Tank Filter Basics!

The BEST Aquarium Filter for BEGINNERS?

Rule Number Five: Careful with decor!

Bettas have very delicate fins that can be easily caught and shredded on sharp decorations. Most plastic plants are dangerous to bettas for this reason. The general guideline for betta-safe decorations is that if you can lightly sweep a single piece of toilet paper across the surface of a decoration without ripping, it should be safe for your betta. If the TP rips, it’s not a betta-safe decoration.

If you notice your betta’s fins are ripped or damaged, and it isn’t a case of fin rot*, it could be damage due to a sharp decoration that you need to remove.

You should also be careful not to use any decorations that might leech paint or other harmful chemicals into your aquarium water. When in doubt, err on the side of caution and choose a different decoration.

* For more about fin rot, see this YouTube video: FIN ROT Fish Disease Prevention and Treatment

Rule Number Six: Bettas need hiding places!

A betta fish’s natural environment is filled with plants and plenty of places to hide, so you should provide them in your aquarium!

Live plants such as anubias and java fern, and floating plants such as salvinia and Amazon frogbit, are perfect and typically easy to find in aquarium shops. With betta fish, there really is no such thing as “too many plants.”

Live plants can be intimidating, though, especially for new aquarium hobbyists. If you can’t find or don’t want live plants, you can get your betta some silk ones instead.

You should also provide things like caves for your betta to hide in. These can be whatever you’d like, from natural-looking logs to hollowed-out coconut shells to colorful themed decor. Just remember what I said up in rule number four about sharp plastic and chemicals!

Rule Number Seven: Careful with tankmates!

Betta fish are highly territorial and extremely aggressive. If you put more than one male betta fish in a tank, they will kill each other, full stop. Your betta does not need a buddy to keep him from getting lonely, end of story, and intentionally housing multiple male betta fish together is blatant animal cruelty.

So don’t do it.

Some experienced betta keepers may keep multiple female betta fish together in an aquarium called a “sorority tank,” but it must be done extremely carefully, and may still be prone to fighting, so this isn’t something you should do if you’ve never kept bettas before.

Male and female fish are never kept together except for supervised mating by an experienced breeder. In the wild, female bettas are able to leave as soon as they release their eggs, leaving the male fish to tend the nest of eggs. In an aquarium, a female must be removed immediately after releasing her eggs, or the two fish will fight, most likely to the death.

While betta fish are territorial and aggressive, and can’t be housed with their own species, they can sometimes be kept with other species of fish. Mileage varies depending on the individual temperaments of your fish, though, and you should carefully research any species you intend to house together.

I have experience keeping my bettas with snails and neon tetras, and they all get along just fine, but other betta keepers have had different experience. For more information on selecting potential tankmates, check out the YouTube videos below:

Top 10 Tank Mates For Bettas

7 Most Popular Betta Tank Mates You Need to Try

Betta Fish Tank Mates | Top 10 Most Popular Tank Mates For Bettas

BETTA FISH TANK MATES | 10 More Great Tank Mates For Bettas

Compatible Tank Mates for Betta Fish

Top 4 Betta Tank Mates

Rule Number Eight: Know your aquarium 101!

If you’re an experienced aquarium keeper, congrats, those are pretty much all the basics of betta fish! There’s plenty more information out there about details and specifics that I encourage you to go out and research, but I’ve pretty much covered Betta 101!

For more information, check out these YouTube playlists:

Betta Fish Care 101

Better Know a Betta

Betta Fish Information

Your First Betta Tank

For those who have never kept fish before, there’s a lot to it that you need to know, and would make this post way, way too long.

So! If you don’t know what a nitrogen cycle is, or how to acclimate a fish, or how to condition water, here’s a list of Fish 101 playlists YouTube. Be sure to do plenty of research, and good luck on setting up your first aquarium!

Fish Keeping 101

The Fish Keeper’s Guide to Aquariums

Beginner’s Guide to Setting Up an Aquarium

The Ultimate Guide to Your First Aquarium

Bonus: Have fun!

I know this giant post seems intimidating, but setting up and maintaining betta aquariums is some of the most fun I’ve had in a hobby. I find everything about these little fish to be utterly delightful, and if you do, too, I promise you all the time and investment is worth it.

Go forth and have fun, and don’t hesitate to show me pictures of your betta!

___

Like this post? Reblogs are better than likes! I also have a Ko-Fi profile if you’re feeling generous. Thanks so much!

[twiceblackvelvet]

Username: xNotYourJoyx

A/N; hi. i have no clue where this idea came from. i don’t know why my brain always tells me to start more red velvet series’ randomly. but here is the latest spawn from it. this will have more parts to it because i’m interested in expanding on the dynamics of this trio plus i signed up for things that have since blown up my emails for this because i’m dedicated like that. anyway! enjoy. or don’t. idk anymore. 

It was only a suggestion.  A quick mention, really. “There’s this site, Seungwan,” is how it started. Except for that brief conversation spiraled rapidly into a whirlwind of curiosity and excitement. Perhaps, discussing the lack of sex life and the frustration that comes with that whilst you’re supposed to be busy working on the latest financial development wasn’t the smartest move, and yet, the conversation ended in a better resolution than she imagined when Joohyun had managed to pry the information out of her about why she’s been so on edge lately. 

On edge being both literal and metaphorical. Getting to the high is easy, however, toppling over into the rush of being able to feel the full experience of pleasure has been evading her for the last few weeks now. Nothing seems to do the trick and though you may think it’d be fun to simply keep trying, it’s starting to become an issue with the more extreme methods she attempts. So, it desperately needs to be fixed, just not in front of all of her colleagues who are idly typing away the dull workday. 

The rest of the day drags along. Nothing particularly interesting happens which Seungwan is grateful for, she could do without the extra stress. Though, she’s sure the new sponsorship to promote a dead-end product that everyone had warned their boss about will cause a headache in the future, she ignores the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Joohyun was kind enough to buy dinner for the both of them which her stomach is currently grateful for as she’s certain her fridge at home is empty. But, watching her friend and colleague suckle on the ice cream bar she purchased for herself should not have resulted in her needing to press her legs together on instinct. 

Joohyun didn’t notice, or if she did, she didn’t say anything and continued to lap her tongue across the cold strawberry flavored ice cream. Probably for the best. Nothing good ever comes from getting too involved with people you have to work alongside every day, even if that person does look like Aphrodite herself. The awkward looks between you both, everyone else knowing that the two of you have slept together but are now deciding on which color scheme to use for an advertisement, it just isn’t something that Seungwan wants to deal with. So, she and Joohyun will have to remain platonic. Unfortunately.

It’s late by the time she gets home. The hallway lights leading up to the apartment door flicker every few seconds and the apartment across the hall has the television turned up loud enough that Seungwan is sure they’re trying to let those in hell hear the latest episode of whichever show they’re currently watching. The keys in her hand rattle as she unlocks the stiff door that barely wants to open anymore. The loudness doesn’t disappear once she closes it behind her but it’s home and somewhere she can erase the feeling of being stuck, in more ways than one. 

The latest routine of ordering in unhealthy food that is slowly destroying her insides, a cold shower to wash away some of the exhaustion, and then listening to the same songs for about an hour feels almost robotic but it’s what she’s grown used to now. Once the darkness begins to creep in across the apartment, cold air making the hairs on her arm stand to attention and the neighbors suddenly growing quiet, it’s the small bed in the corner of the room that calls out and the only thing echoing inside her head. 

Well, it would be, had she not suddenly recalled Joohyun’s description of a site where many people frolic and entertain those who perhaps need a little extra help with their more sinful needs. She moves on auto-pilot toward the jacket hanging on the coat rack and reaches into the left side pocket for the small piece of paper where only the web address is scrawled upon it in Joohyun’s perfect handwriting. The laptop she bought years before and barely runs anymore rests on the dining table she never sits at, closed, and with a line of dust taking up home upon it. Grabbing it, she plops herself down onto the bed after removing her dressing gown and the towel around her hair which has long since dried and throwing it into a corner of the room to be cleaned up tomorrow. 

Her fingers trace the keyboard idly, never pressing in a single key, simply going back and forth over the letters whilst her brain tries to decipher if this is something she wants to try out. 

“Fuck it.” She thinks. Soon enough, the site is loading, slowly, and asking for her to confirm she is of legal age to enter it. 

The screen finally loads and brings up a bunch of profiles under the “popular” banner. To say that the sight of all the various people before her is overwhelming would be an understatement. A sidebar reveals that she can choose a category as well as filter out specific things that are not of her interest. Some of the categories are the standard you would expect, for example, she immediately filters to only see profiles of women. However, others are a little more out there and specific toward what Seungwan assumes are people’s fetishes. A lot of them are things that she would never consider a person could find interesting sexually, and yet, the option is right before her. She ignores the curious voice inside of her head telling her to click on some of them. 

A screen full of women now presents itself in front of her. All of them are beautiful and there’s a whole variety to choose from. The profile pictures range from selfies where they’re simply smiling to some of them being without clothing whatsoever. She scrolls for quite some time simply admiring all of the choices before her until one, in particular, captures her attention. 

Wide dark eyes with hair of the same shade of brown, plump lips that are sporting a small smirk that’s both enticing and teasing. Part of the girl’s neck is on display for Seungwan to imagine herself kissing and biting softly. Without hesitation, she hovers over the username and clicks onto the profile. 

“xNotYourJoyx” she repeats mentally a few times. 

The next page reveals a sign-up box that doesn’t allow Seungwan to venture any further. She’s quick to type in her email address, a username not as clever as she would like and the same password she uses for everything else. The next step is to add her bank details in order to be able to subscribe to various pages. She hesitates at this portion realizing that it’s probably very easy for people to fall too far down this rabbit hole. Thus she promises herself not to subscribe to anything until she’s 100% sure. 

After completing her profile, she’s brought back to the girl she assumes is named Joy or at least uses that name here. Her subscription rate is the first thing to appear. Her price is low Seungwan thinks, around $10 when she was expecting something far higher based on the type of content Joohyun had told her the people on the site create. The next part is an Amazon wishlist with various items in it ranging from hair extensions, expensive perfume, and medical equipment? She must be a nurse, Seungwan thinks. 

Further down the page reveals a VIP service which is more expensive than the standard subscription but allows for you to request specific pictures or videos. There are rules that come along with it which Seungwan reads multiple times over. 

Don’t ask me to say or tell you anything personal about me, we are not friends. You don’t know me like that. 

No, you can’t have my Instagram or any other social media so don’t ask. 

Don’t be a dick. 

My amazon wishlist is not for me. I am not a doctor. But I’m down to dress as one for you if you’re into that. 

“Well, that clears that up I guess.” She thinks. 

For the next ten minutes, Seungwan simply scrolls through the free content on offer from Joy. A few shots of her without clothes but covering her body up with her hands or a sheet, all of which look professionally done which is surprising.  She’s captivated and drawn in by this girl a lot quicker than she thought she would be, she can see why Joohyun would recommend such a thing to her now. The possibilities are endless and there are no strings attached. It’s an ideal situation for both parties. 

Despite making the promise to herself, she’s quick to subscribe to Joy’s feed but ignores the large “upgrade to VIP” logo that’s glistening in gold below the payment button. It would seem strange or suspicious surely to her if someone new to her profile was suddenly paying for the premium option Seungwan tries to logic with herself. 

A few seconds pass as the page reloads itself before finally Joy’s profile is unlocked for Seungwan’s eyes to devour. The same type of photos as previously, however, without anything covering herself up. The same natural reaction to jam her thighs together that she felt earlier with Joohyun ends up happening again except this time she positions her hand under the waistband of her bed shorts. 

The further she explores everything Joy has posted the more the need to be touched becomes overwhelming Before she knows it her fingers are gently caressing her soft skin slowly yet with desperation. Many of the images have comments from other people praising the effortless beauty that Joy manages to convey with ease. Seungwan thinks that Joy must be someone with great confidence to display herself so openly like this. She wishes she too were able to picture herself in the way that Joy likely does. 

Her body aches for some release but once more she’s not able to reach the peak as the page of images suddenly comes to an end. Once more, the gold button for premium appears and tells Seungwan she’s reached the limit of what she can see. A blurring effect does a good job of hiding what follows next, however,  what it doesn’t do is stop her from being enticed further when she spots that Joy has also uploaded videos of herself, they are simply hidden from those on the basic subscription as her. 

Almost sub-consciously she finds herself going against every warning sign inside of her mind telling her that paying to watch Joy rather than just look at her is a bad decision, one she will definitely come to regret or become too attached to doing, and yet, it’s too late once she’s confirmed the upgrade and clicked onto the first video that appears. 

White background, likely a wall in her home, Seungwan thinks, until finally the girl steps into the frame with yet another smirk on her lips.  

“Hello, welcome to premium. Thank you for subscribing. I hope you enjoy all of the videos and pictures that only a select few of you will ever get to see. If you’re feeling even more generous please be sure to check out my wishlist. Now, let’s have fun together.” 

Her voice is silky smooth, Seungwan thinks. She replays the simple video a few times just to hear her make this decision sound like she’s part of an exclusive club where only she is invited, though, she’s aware that isn’t true at all. Joy likely has a ton of people paying to see the most intimate parts of her. The comments on this simple welcoming video are at 59 which means at least that many people have also fallen into the trap, though if Joy is the prize, Seungwan wonders if be tricked into paying extra like this is worth it in the end. 

She decides to read through some of them just to get a sense of how people communicate with her here. 

ksgeees says: can’t wait for you to send me my video Joy😏

canudoit2609 says: so hot🔥

r4bb1tfr13nd says: damn i should have subbed earlier🥵🥵🥵

speedzoom0408 says: YOU CAN HAVE ALL MY MONEY

HYUNSKY says: most beautiful girl ever 

Strangely, the latter comment is the only one Joy has bothered to give a reply to. 

xNotYourJoyx says: @HYUNSKY wow, thank you😳

The compliment is definitely correct and deserving of a reply, yet, Seungwan wishes she were the one to tell Joy such things and have her respond solely to her. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster and though she probably shouldn’t be feeling it toward a complete stranger, she does. The sound of the keys as she types out her own comment with her free hand that hasn’t been teasing herself is the only thing she can hear now. Not even the wind outside is able to pierce her eardrums and break her from this spell that Joy has put her under. 

Wannie2102 says: you are so perfect, Joy.

It’s simple and Seungwan hates it, but she simply must tell this girl something, anything, in hopes that she sees it and feels happy to be complimented. 

Silence now, nothing but the screen before her for light inside the cold bedroom. The list of videos, 71 in total, tempting Seungwan, taunting almost. Her left hand numb now from just resting against her own body whilst her right-hand clicks onto the next one in the list after the welcoming video. 

The same white background, however, Joy is positioned in the video as soon as it starts this time. Laying down on a black crushed velvet sofa in only her underwear. Her right hand gently caressing her breasts as she grunts out a few low moans. Her left hand in a similar position to where Seungwan is resting her own. The tired and slow circles in which she moves her hand causes her eyes to roll into the back of her head as Seungwan changes her own pace to match that of Joy’s on the screen. 

Her bed creaks with every movement of Joy’s that she mimics, the headboard bashing against the wall behind her whenever Joy quickens her pace and then sounds like a light drumming whenever she slows. The neighbor next door has definitely been awakened by the rhythmic sound of Seungwan rocking her body against her fingers. 

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” The words surprise Seungwan out of her reverie as it’s as if Joy is present and asking her specifically and knowing that she too is pleasuring herself as she is doing. Without even thinking she manages to gasp out a yes in reply that only she can hear, yet gains a response from Joy almost like she can magically hear her. “I wish I could watch you touch yourself to me.” she pauses to lowly moan. “For me.” 

The pressure rises between her thighs once more except this time her body allows her to release every bit of tension she’s had to keep trying to get rid of for weeks. Her entire body collapses against itself as she indulges herself in what she’s convinced is the longest orgasm to ever exist. Her legs shaking wildly as her arm tenses up and flex to make sure she feels every bit of her undoing. The sound of Joy finishing up her own continues to play in the background for further motivation but the deed has already been done. 

She rests momentarily, staring up at the ceiling as gentle pants fill the room both from herself and the laptop. Nothing else in the world matters at this very moment. However, once more Joy manages to surprise Seungwan with her telepathic way of just knowing somehow when to speak to her viewer. 

“Thank you for that, I hope you come back soon for more.” and then the video ends. 

A dark screen replacing the beautiful image of Joy just as spent as Seungwan feels. But, now she’s left to think about everything that has just transpired between herself, the screen and a girl she doesn’t even know. Guilt wells up in her chest and she slams the screen shut almost shattering the glass. “Why did you do this?” is the only thing that repeats inside of her mind. No longer focused on the pulsating feeling against her hand as she pulls it out of her shorts too fast and whips herself with the waistband which will no doubt sting in the morning.

Her legs shakily drag her body to the bathroom almost tripping over various clothes that have sat there waiting to be cleaned for way too long now. She turns on the shower for the second time tonight and steps into it, almost falling immediately. The cold water shocks her body into feeling something other than the after-effects of pleasuring herself. Scrubbing every inch of her body intensely and repeating inside of her mind that she’ll cancel the subscription tomorrow and never do anything like this ever again. She can’t. Joy is a stranger and she shouldn’t be doing these things.

By the time she’s finished almost burning her skin with the washcloth to make sure she’s rid herself of her sins and changing her fair skin to a reddish shade, the clock on the bedside table shows that there are only three hours before she’s due to wake up for work. The bed seems tainted now, so she grabs the blanket and sleeps on the sofa that is far less comfortable. 

Joohyun is definitely going to ask her about whether or not she used the site, definitely going to notice the dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep and will definitely draw up her own conclusion anyway no matter what her answer is. She tries her best not to think about any of this but there’s just a constant loop of the images of Joy, the sound of her voice, and the way she encouraged Seungwan to feel again. 

She dreams of dark hair and brown eyes that night and moans that could be the most heavenly sound in the world or a new addiction that Seungwan isn’t ready for but may not have a choice but to indulge in it. 

pt. ii

[soysaucednd]

So, you want to start a D&D Podcast

Awesome! Share your art! This is going to be my little guide of recommendations as someone who used to work in radio and has been involved with a couple of radio plays and online play readings.

Step one: You are good enough.

The first step is to not get discouraged. You may not be the next Critical Role or The Adventure Zone, but you will have a podcast project. The first priority should be a philosophy of sharing rather than ambition of success. Even if you don’t amass a following, you will be sharing a piece of yourself, and that is always something to be admired.

Step two: Set clear expectations with your players.

Making a podcast of a d&d campaign is harder than running a home game. There are a lot of things that you have to take into account during a recording session that aren’t that important in your everyday game.

This is a performance. Players need to be focused on you and the game.

Eating makes sounds that can be picked up by the microphones.

Your levels may be overwhelmed by the dice, consider using dice pads.

You and your players have to be understood, and it has to be clear when they are in character and out of character.

No matter how much you think you won’t, you will have to edit some sections.

If players are talking over each other or having outside of game conversations, it will be picked up by the microphone and it will disturb the flow of the game.

Step three: The equipment and software.

As I said in the previous section, you and your players have to be heard and understood. To that end, you will need to have the right equipment to make that happen. Here is what you will need:

A microphone. Do some research on what microphone to get. It will have to be better than one that is connected on a set of headphones, but you don’t necessarily have to break the bank for a good one.

Audacity open source audio editing software.

This is the program I used to edit all of my pre-recorded radio segments and I still use it when I have to edit any kind of audio. It has a bit of a learning curve, but once you get used to it it has almost unlimited potential.

(it is also super useful for untraceably pirating music)

A room with minimal background noise.

Ideally, you will want a soundproofed room with no windows, but that is not possible for most people. Record some sample audio in different rooms in your house and see what works best. You’ll be able to tell the difference.

A padded dice box or a dice mat.

You do not want to be rolling your dice straight on a table next to a microphone, it will be loud and will be jarring to people listening to the recording.

Step four: Get used to your voice on recording.

We all hate our voices on recording. I had a recurring segment on a local radio station for four years and I deeply hated the way I sounded. It is just something you need to get used to. If you are going to use a character voice, rehearse it. Troubleshoot it in the recording software. See if you can get it to sound the way you want it to. If you are dming, you have your work cut out for you. I would recommend pre-writing introductions and very important pieces of description because once you are on recording, you will forget everything you wanted to say WAY more often.

Step five: Editing

You’ve gotten your first session out of the way! Yay! You might be tempted to just upload it and be done, but that is not going to be the best decision. Here are a few things to do to make the quality just a little bit better.

Get a background noise profile.

Open the audio file in audacity and open the effects tab.

It will ask you to get a noise profile, select a section of the audio where no one is speaking. (Ideally a period of around 10 seconds where everyone is quiet.)

The program will isolate the sounds present in that 10 seconds and do its best to remove those sounds from the whole sound profile.

Normalize.

If a few of your players are slightly quieter than your louder players, there is a tool in the effects window called “Normalize.”

This will take all of the audio in the file and standardize it at a volume you choose (measured in decibels). It will boost quieter voices and bring down the volume of louder voices while keeping things like shouting distinct. Be careful, but it is fairly easy to understand.

Compress.

This effect will reduce clipping (I will explain later). It brings any very loud sounds into a safer range for the ear and brings very quiet sounds up to be audible.

Beware of clipping.

If the spikes on the audio file’s waveform go above a certain point, we call this clipping. It will distort the audio in the final product and be uncomfortable to listen to. You can sometimes fix it by using the amplify tool or the normalization and compression tools, but it is better to set a lower input level on your microphone to avoid it and amplify your volume in the editing process. It is easier to add more volume than to take away too much.

Background music.

If you are using background music, make sure it is licensed for you to use. Royalty free or self-produced music is usually best. If you drag new audio files into audacity, you can create new layers and adjust positioning by adding in silence or by manipulating the start time and end time of your background music. There is also a fade in/fade out function that you can access by selecting a piece of audio in one layer and then going into the effects tab.

Step six: Recaps and Rules

For a produced show, you should start every session with a recap both for anyone tuning in to your podcast and to remind the players of their given circumstances. Take notes during the session if you can, or listen back to the previous episode to study before your next one. This is a good way to get used to your voice, remind yourself of the voices you have given NPCs, and remember where in your story you are.

When you are running a game on stream, you will not have time to stop the game and look up a rule, so get used to problem solving as a dm. Make reminder cards, spell cards, have statblocks ready, and if you do not have a rule in front of you, make a ruling. If you are uploading a prerecorded game, you have a bit more leeway, but it depends on how much time you want to spend editing. My advice would be to get used to making rulings on the fly and confirming them later.

Step seven: General Performance tips

Players:

Stay engaged.

Not paying attention and missing the fact that it is your turn, or not understanding how your sheet works is similar to an actor forgetting their lines and stopping on stage.

Don’t fudge your dice rolls.

I know. It is tempting. No one can see them and if you got a nat 20 here it would be SO POETIC. But seriously, don’t.

Listen to your DM and try to limit off topic conversations.

Make your voice for your character distinct from your own.

DMs:

Be prepared.

Have your statblocks ready, bring any visual aids you need, have your notes opened, have a compendium of spells available, have an initiative tracker, have enough dice, know what the shape of the session will be.

Don’t bring your sourcebooks.

This seems weird, but it is a recommendation I can’t stress enough. If you have it with you, I guarantee you will flip through it to check rules and such. Don’t.

Practice your timing on certain levels of narration.

Try to figure out some fun ways to add tension through how you narrate.

Watch a LOT of liveplay d&d and study what you like about the dms.

I would recommend Dimension 20, Naddpod, Critical Role, The Adventure Zone, or any other piece of media you can find.

Now go out there and get started! Message me and I will try to tune in to whatever you produce!

[star-spangled-eyes]

Dirty Mind: Part 2: Comfortably Numb

This alternate universe fan fiction uses characters created and owned by Pixelberry Studios. Character names, descriptions and likenesses are owned by Pixelberry Studios. Some dialogue and events in Book 1 of TRR are property of Pixelberry Studios. The MC, Bragnae Bennett, and story is created and owned by this author.

Book: The Royal Romance (Alternate Universe)

Alternate Universe Theme: Drake’s perspective  

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Bragnae Bennett – *pronounced Brawn-yah)

Warnings for this miniseries: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, angst, sex (including character’s thoughts and innuendos)

Masterlist

A/N: I wrote this miniseries in the first person perspective of Drake Walker. It follows events in Book 1 of TRR, but not everything is as you’d remember it from the story. Some things have been altered to better fit this fanfic.

I really enjoyed getting into the brain of Drake, and I hope you like it too. He’s a stud, and I love his sexual, angsty mind.

The conclusion will release tomorrow!

Word Count for this chapter: 7104

Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw @thorfosterlove @emceesynonymroll @edgiestwinter @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @msjr0119 @notoriouscs @drakewalker04 @pedudley @desiree-0816 @choices-lurker @kingliam2019 @loveellamae @drakexnadira @flutistbyday2020 @indiana-jr​ @yukinagato2012​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​

We walked downstairs to the gym side by side. It was nice. I smiled when I noticed no one else was in there when we arrived. This was my chance to spend some quality time with Bragnae. It was almost 10:00p.m. The feeling of night made this even more exciting. I don’t know what I expected to happen tonight, but I was open to any of it.

“So, what are we working on tonight?” She asked.

“How about chest and back since your legs are sore from the ride?”

She nodded. “Sounds great.”

“Have you ever bench pressed before?” I asked her. This would be a good place to start.

“Not really.”

I moved over to the equipment and grabbed a few weights to stack them on the bar. “Okay, why don’t you spot me first, and then you can see how to do it.”

She looked apprehensive, but agreed. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to spot you. This looks like a lot of weight for me to catch.” She took a second to calculate the weight. “Drake, this weighs more than me.”

Good to know I can easily lift you over me or against a wall when necessary. “And you probably didn’t even factor in the weight of the bar, which is 45 pounds.”

Her mouth gaped open. “Oh my God.” Her stunned look changed into a curious one. “So, what’s the most amount of weight you’ve ever bench pressed before?”

I laid down on the bench and got into position. “250.”

She was impressed again. I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s incredible, Drake.”

“Thanks. I’m working to increase that.” I extended my arms to prepare for my set. “Can you stand behind my head? That’s where a spotter usually stands.”

“Oh, sure.” She moved behind me. Her thighs close to my head, and in the perfect position for me to admire the curves of her breasts.

If I wasn’t careful, I could get too distracted, and hurt myself. I picked up the bar and pumped out ten repetitions before setting it back on the stand.

“You make that look easy,” she praised.

“I’m just used to it.” I got up and removed all the weights from the bar. “Your turn. Go ahead and lie down. You can start with just the bar, and if it’s too easy, we’ll just add more weight.”

“Alright,” she said before taking position on the bench. I watched her eyes as they traveled past the bar and up to mine for a moment.

“I’ll spot you the entire time, so if it’s too heavy, let me know and I’ll grab it.”

She nodded and swallowed before extended her arms up to grab the bar. I lifted it off the stand for her.

“You good?” I asked.

“Yep. I’ve got it.” Bragnae raised and lowered the bar ten times before I helped her place it back on the rack.

“Great job. Let’s do a couple more sets of these.”

Bragnae and I worked through a few other exercises that focused on our chest muscles before making our way over to the cable machine with dual weight sets.

“I’ll do this first, so you can see how it goes.” I set the weight for myself on both sides, grabbing the triangular pull handle on one side before I grabbed the other. I pulled the two cables towards my chest before slowly extending back out again.

“Look’s great, Drake,” Bragnae said from behind me. Even with a mirrored wall in front of me, I couldn’t see her face. She must’ve been standing directly behind me.

“Thanks, but there’s not much to this exercise.”

“No, I was talking about your back. Your muscles are… chiseled perfectly.”

I beamed inside as I pulled the cables and weights to my chest again. I paused suddenly when I felt her hand lightly touch the bare skin of my back.

“You carry a lot of weight on your back,” she said softly. “No wonder you have to keep it so strong.” Bragnae brought her other hand up to rest against me.

I don’t know if she did this on purpose, but I couldn’t just release the cables without possible wrecking the equipment. So, I stayed that way holding the cables close to my chest waiting for her next move. My entire body was tense. I didn’t even know what to say. She was touching me. Jesus.

The woman missed nothing. In the short time that we knew each other, she already knew of the burdens I carried for others. God, she’s incredible.

Her hands shifted to my sides as she stepped closer to me. My heart was about to beat out of my chest. My hands began to tremble from the weight I strained to hold. I’d have to do something soon, otherwise I could injure myself.

“Bragnae,” I finally managed to say.

I felt her back away as her hands left my body. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to it.”

I slowly extended my arms again. My muscles were sore from how tensely I was holding the weight. I returned both cables to their original positions before turning around to face her. She was still standing close, looking up at me. Neither one of us spoke. We just poured our thoughts and energy from the moment prior into each other’s eyes.

“Drake,” she murmured.

I really wanted to kiss her, but something held me back. She was making it abundantly clear that she had feelings for me just by the way she looked at me. So, why the hell wasn’t I doing something about it?

Just as she took a step towards me, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam walking into the gym. Fuck. I quickly, but as casually as I could, looked away and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe my hands as my friend strolled up to us. God, I hope he didn’t think the worst of this situation. I know I would if I walked in on us like this. The atmosphere alone was thick with the amount of sexual tension and unexpressed feelings.

“Lady Bragnae. What a pleasant surprise. Getting a work out in?”

Bragnae spun on the balls of her feet so fast I thought she’d tip over from the momentum. “Liam. Hi. Yes. I thought I’d check this place out. It’s a nice facility.”

I wondered why she was deliberately not mentioning that I invited her here tonight. Was she trying to protect me so Liam didn’t think I was pursuing her? Or did she not want Liam to think she was here with me to protect her status as a suitor?

“What brings you down here so late, Liam?” Bragnae asked. Her back was still facing me. I couldn’t see her face as she spoke, but I noticed her hands fidgeting.

Liam looked at her for a moment. His eyes briefly trailing down her body and back up again. “Actually, I came down here to speak to Drake the Gym Rat about something.” He looked at me next. “I figured I’d find you down here when I saw you weren’t in your room.”

“Oh, well, I was finished anyway. I’d better go get started on my beauty sleep for the country jamboree tomorrow.” Bragnae told him.

Liam smiled down at her. “Like you even need it.”

Such a cornball sometimes. I shook my head slightly at his comment while Bragnae offered a polite giggle in response. Then she turned to me. Her amber eyes bore into me with sincerity as she smiled ruefully.

“Thanks for your help with the work out.”

“Anytime.” I wanted to stare into her eyes longer, but I knew Liam was watching, and no doubt assessing everything happening in front of him. I would be, but then again, maybe that’s just my jealous nature. I always expect the worst. But that’s how I’m able to stay one step ahead of everyone and protect the ones I care about. So, I returned my attention back the towel in my hand as Bragnae turned back to Liam.

“Goodnight, guys.” Bragnae hastened out of the gym as Liam responded in kind to her.

I watched her leave, and so did Liam. He kept his eyes on her until she was no longer in sight. What a situation this was. Two men pining after the same woman. One could have her any time he wanted. The other would have to suffer with the realization that he’d never be with her. I kept wishing I was the former, but I knew that was too much to hope for.

Liam turned back to face me. “Goddamn, she’s hot.” He blew out a low whistle, shaking his head.

Yeah, I know. You don’t have to tell me. I can barely control myself when she’s around. “So, what’s up, Liam?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about Bragnae actually,” he began.

Oh, fuck. “What about?”

“Earlier when we stopped at the old village to eat, I saw Tariq talking with Bragnae.” He paused, trying to formulate his next words. “I… well, I just got a weird vibe about it. I’ve seen him look at her on more than one occasion, and it’s always with… a certain wanting. And when I walked up to them, he was talking about offering her a massage because her back was sore from the horse ride. I don’t know,” he shook his head again. “He was standing a little too close for comfort.”

What the fuck, Tariq? I remembered seeing that interaction, but I had no idea what was said. I wondered if I should tell him that. I mean, Liam did task me with keeping an eye on her, so it wouldn’t be weird that I did see it. That’s just me being vigilant, right? “Yeah, I noticed that tonight, too. What are you thinking, Liam?”

He sighed, and worked his jaw in contemplation. “He’s not the same guy I once knew. We’ve grown apart over the years. I just want you to keep an eye on him. For some reason, I don’t trust him around her. I just don’t want her to be uncomfortable, or get into a situation that can be misconstrued by the public, you know? So, if you see that he’s trying to talk with her, maybe you could step in.”

“Consider it done. I have no problem telling Tariq to ‘fuck off’ if I need to. Bennett’s safety and wellbeing is most important.” That was the complete truth. Unguarded. And I liked being able to say it out loud.

Liam clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Drake. I knew I could count on you.” He started to leave, but turned back to me. “Just let me know if you see anything else sketchy with him. I’ll send him away from court if I have to. I would have done it already, but I don’t really have a good reason.”

“I hope he doesn’t give you one, but I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.”

Liam nodded. “Good man. Thanks.”

As Liam left me I couldn’t help but feel anger towards Tariq. What a creep. I’d definitely be keeping a closer eye on him. I was already watching Bragnae more closely than I probably should, but Liam asked me too. And Bragnae needed to be protected.

Knowing about Tariq from Liam’s perspective fueled the fire inside me even more. The bastard. If he even got within ten feet of her, I’d stand by her side and wouldn’t leave until I knew she was safe. I shook my head in disgust. Like Bragnae would even go for a twerp like Tariq. Why did he even think he was in her league? He’s fucking not.

I gripped the towel in my hand at the thought of him. Just try something Tariq. I fucking dare you.

~

The next day was the country jamboree. Everyone was out in the gardens playing games you might see at a festival. There was plenty of food to be had, and the place was crawling with snobby nobles. The press was not allowed at Applewood Manor while we were there, which I preferred. Fucking vultures. They’d make things worse anyway. They always did.

I kept to myself all day. I walked the grounds keeping my eye on Bragnae. Tariq was there too, but he hadn’t been so bold as to speak to her again. I’d be there if he did.

Bragnae looked beautiful today. She wore a white and floral strappy dress with a brown belt around her waist. Knee high brown boots really brought her outfit together for the country theme. I smirked at the thought of her wearing a cowboy hat. I’d love to see her in one. The ‘country’ attire was more than enough for me. If she never wore another ball gown, I’d be just as happy to see her in things like this. It was simple, and I liked simple.

She pulled her hair into a low, side bun, and wove a white flower on the opposite side. She was absolutely gorgeous. A necklace adorned her chest. The point of the heart at the bottom of the chain drew my eyes directly to her playful cleavage. Clever aesthetic these women did to drive the men crazy. I’d give just about anything to see her breasts. Caress them. Draw her hardened nipples into my mouth and tug on them gently with my teeth. I’d make her come just by the way my hands, mouth and tongue worked against the curves of her chest.

I blew out a deep breath to calm my arousal. I was on a mission, and I couldn’t exactly sneak off right now to give myself the release I desperately needed in that moment. God, how I wished I could have that release with her instead of with my goddamned hand.

As the sun set, everyone was called to dinner. This was the last event of the night, and I was not invited. I know Liam wouldn’t have minded if I crashed, but I honestly didn’t care to go. It was all courtly talk anyway and more fawning over Liam by his suitors. The only thing that made me reconsider going was to keep an eye on Bragnae, but Maxwell and Bertrand were there with her. And this was just a dinner. She’d be going back to her room once it was over. I’d make sure of it.

The Social Season was almost over, thank Christ. I’ve had just about enough of this crap. King Constantine had mentioned a few weeks ago that he’d be turning the throne over to Liam sooner than expected. So, Liam’s coronation was just a couple days away. He’d have his bride and he’d be king all at once.

I sighed thinking of it all. Everything would change, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. Most of all, I wasn’t ready for Liam to pick Bragnae. I just don’t know how I’d be able to handle seeing her on his arm, as queen, and walking around the palace. It would be incredibly painful.

I shunned those thoughts. I knew I’d have to revisit them later, but I didn’t want to think about that now. A part of me still had that inkling of hope that I’d get my chance to be with her, but every logical part of my mind screamed at me saying it would never happen. It couldn’t happen. Even if she wanted it. Liam wanted to be with her, and by the looks of it, she appeared to like him as well.

They had played a game of ring toss together earlier. She laughed, touched his arm, and smiled up at him with a twinkle in her eye. It was hard to watch, but it was important for me to see it. I needed a reminder of my status in this world. I'm a commoner. And I’m the prince’s best friend and confidant. I couldn’t let him down, and I definitely didn’t deserve an amazing woman like Bragnae. Not when Liam had a chance to be with her.

She’d make a great queen. Beautiful, kind, funny. She’d be an inspiration to the whole country, and frankly, we could use it. King Constantine and Queen Regina were regal and fair, but they’re also of a different time and generation. Once Liam takes the throne, the kingdom will be rejuvenated by his youth. And with Bragnae at his side, Cordonia will thrive. I have no doubt about that.

Shit. How’d I get back to this again? Frustrated with myself, I headed up to my room in the manor. I figured I’d get a work out in to relieve some of this stress, and be done in time to check on Bragnae before the end of the night. I changed clothes and headed downstairs to the gym.

Not speaking to Bragnae all day had thrown me off. I hardly recognized myself anymore. Since when did I rely on a woman to complete any part of me? I was convinced that Bragnae was some sort of mystical temptress. She cast a spell on me a long time ago, and I couldn’t get out of it. But I’m not sure I wanted to either. I’m so fucked up.

I kept my work out short. I did some cardio and worked on my legs a bit before heading back upstairs to my room. I showered and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt. I was going to find something to eat, but I decided to check on Bragnae first. Maybe she’d be up for a late night snack. Who knows? She eagerly joined me last night for a work out. Maybe I’d get lucky again.

As I approached her room, I heard a big thump on the floor followed by a shrill scream. I rushed to her door and turned the knob. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked. The room was dark, but my eyes were immediately drawn to activity near the bed. The full moon outside had illuminated the area just enough that I could see Tariq advancing on Bragnae.

He had her pinned against the foot of the bed. All I could see of Bragnae were her arms flailing about trying to push him off of her. Red hot anger surged through my entire body. It was the fuel that propelled me forward into the room. In three strides I was there.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and flung him with force onto the floor where I proceeded to punch the ever living shit out of the prick. I gripped my hand around his hair to keep his head in place, straddling his chest as I worked him over.

Somehow, the bastard jabbed his hand into my ribs, which distracted me long enough for Tariq to toss me off of him.

“Drake, what are you doing in my room?” Tariq insisted. His words slurred a bit as he struggled to his feet. He reeked of alcohol.

“This is Bennett’s room, asshole.” I rose to my feet quickly not taking any chances. I gripped his shirt collar again and dragged him towards the door. “Don’t ever try this shit with Bennett again. If you do, you’ll regret it.”

“Lady Bragnae and I were having a private moment, and you interrupted us, you commoner filth,” he said as his eyes struggled to stay open. His nose and mouth were bleeding.

“Bullshit,” I said, shoving him up against the wall. He winced from the pain. Good. I hope it hurt like hell. “She doesn’t like you, and she doesn’t want you. Now, get the fuck out of here, and pray to God Liam doesn’t hang you by your balls in front of the entire court for forcing yourself on one of his suitors.”

Tariq tried to retort, but I opened the door and shoved him out before he could. I’d make sure he was handled later, but Bragnae came first. I needed to make sure she was okay. As long as I was with her, she was safe.

I paused to catch my breath before turning around. My body shook from the adrenaline rush.

“Drake,” Bragnae said softly. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing, Bennett.” I turned to face her. “I just had to make sure you were safe.” My eyes had adjusted to the dark room, so I could see things more plainly.

Bragnae stood there, one hand clutching the wooden post of her bed closest to the door. Her face frozen with a stunned expression, her body rigid. Her body…

In the midst of all the commotion, I hadn’t had a chance to look at her before now. Beating Tariq’s ass and making sure the threat was eliminated was my priority. Bragnae stood before me wearing only her bra and panties. They were hot pink with white lace.

My mouth went dry, my breath stilled. My eyes hungrily took in the sight of her, burning the image into my mind. I’d seen her in a bathing suit before, but this was different. It was more intimate. Her matching underwear left little to the imagination, and it taunted me like no other. Even having just wrestled with a belligerent man, the sight of Bragnae like this captivated me.

I felt a strain in my jeans. I realized we were in a dark, private room separated only by a few feet of space and a thin layer of fabric. She had to cover up. As much as I didn’t want her to, I couldn’t concentrate with her standing there almost naked.

“Um, Bennett,” I said, looking at her expectantly.

“What?” She asked genuinely. Did she really not know she was only in her underwear?

“You’re, uh, not wearing much.” Fuck that was awkward.

She looked down and gasped. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry.” I averted my gaze as she found the dress she wore earlier to slip on.

Because I’m apparently a creep and I couldn’t resist, I stole another glance at her as she pulled the dress up over her curves. The silvery glow of the moon framed her body as she moved. It felt like a dream seeing her like that. I briefly wondered why the lights were off. Maybe Tariq flipped them off predatorily, or perhaps she was getting ready for bed.

If she was getting ready for bed, was that what she slept in? I shuddered at the thought of such thin fabric covering her most precious of parts, and how easily it would be to rip them off or push to the side for easy access. I shook off the thought. Come on dickhead. She was just sexually harassed. Don’t think like that.

As soon as she was clothed again, I walked over to her – cautiously. “Did he hurt you?”

She swallowed as she looked up at me. “No. I was more scared than anything. He was awfully persistent, and surprisingly strong.”

Fucking prick. “What happened? Why was he in here?”

She took a deep breath. “I was changing out of my dress when he barged in. I was startled at first and told him to get out, but then he closed the door and turned off the lights. I grabbed a vase on the table there to defend myself, but he wacked it out of my hand, and cornered me between the bed post and mattress.”

I clenched my teeth thinking about the complete disrespect Tariq had for her. I’ll fucking kill him.

“If you hadn’t shown up… I don’t know what would have happened.” The frightened look on her face slayed me.

I wanted so badly to hold her to let her know she was safe and everything was okay. But she probably didn’t want that kind of affection right now after experiencing this ordeal. And I didn’t want her to think I was trying to make a move on her.

“I’m glad you’re okay… and safe. I should probably get going.” She needed to relax after this, and I didn’t want to keep her from that.

I had almost made it to the door when I felt her hand grab mine. “Drake, wait. Please don’t go.”

I turned to face her. The fear in her eyes a minute ago was now gone. Instead she looked up at me with the same intensity she did last night. I saw longing, desire. I felt it, too.

“Drake, I…” She took her hand from mine and let both of hers gently touch my chest. She slowly slid them down to my sides. I hissed a breath through my teeth as her hand grazed the spot where Tariq jabbed me earlier. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine, Bennett. Don’t worry about me.” If she kept touching me like that, I wouldn’t be able to control myself for much longer.

We looked at each other for another moment. Then, her fingers found the hem of my shirt and started to lift it up.

“Bennett,” I protested.

“Shhhh,” she told me with a gentle finger pressed against my lips. “I just want to see where he hurt you.” Her hands returned to the bottom of my shirt, and she slowly lifted it along with her hands up my torso.

My heart raced as I felt her warm hands slide against my skin. Apparently she wanted my shirt completely off because she didn’t just hold it up. Her hands persisted until the shirt cleared my head. And I was inclined to let it happen. I knew it was wrong, but curiosity got the best of me.

Her hands returned to my side. She looked up at me as her fingers brushed over the sensitive spot by my ribs. I drew in another sharp breath, and then her eyes trained to the spot. She delicately inspected it.

“I’m sure you’ll have a bruise there. Let me get some ice.” She toted off to the other side of the room to an ice bucket.

“Bennett, you don’t have to do that.” The space between us allowed me to breathe. Now was my chance to leave before I would do something I’d later regret. I was already tempting fate letting her take off my shirt. Knowing what she wore underneath that dress didn’t help the situation either.

Before I could reach for my shirt, she had returned with ice wrapped in a towel. “I do have to do this, Drake. You’re hurt, and it’s all because of me.” She gingerly placed the ice against my skin.

I hissed another breath. It fucking hurt. Any time there was a blow to a bone, it always hurt ten times worse than if it was on muscle. Goddamn it. I looked down at her seeing worry on her face. Instinctively, my hand covered hers – the one that wasn’t holding the ice. She had rested it on my chest.

“Hey, Bennett, look at me.” I waited until I saw those beautiful amber eyes. “None of this if your fault. You didn’t invite Tariq in here to force himself on you, and you damn sure didn’t make him punch me in the ribs.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing. I came in here because you needed my help. And…” I swallowed knowing more words followed. They’d be coated with feelings. Feelings I hadn’t shared with her yet. “I wanted to protect you. I always want to protect you, and keep you close. I wish I had met you in some other way. Then, all of this would be different.” I hesitated for a moment to summon my courage for the rest. “I… I care about you, Bragnae. … A lot.”

My chest tightened as I held my breath waiting for her response. I couldn’t believe I just said that, but it felt wrong not to. The soft light in the room was just enough to see the candor in her eyes.

“I care about you, too, Drake.” She leaned in closer than she already was. “So much.”

“You do?” I could hardly believe my own ears.

“Yes,” she said softly, dropping the towel of ice to the ground. Her hands slid up my chest and looped around my neck. Her body pressed tightly to mine. “I want to be with you.”

Now I was in shock. I stared at her in disbelief. “You… you want to… be with me?”

Bragnae nodded as she simultaneously stood on her toes and pulled me in until our mouths connected. Her full lips felt soft against mine as we shared a tender and slow kiss that made my heart swell. I had waited what felt like an eternity to kiss her, never believing it would actually happen. It was the most incredible kiss I’d ever experienced.

She sank back to flat-footing again peering up at me. I was in a daze, and happy as a fucking clam. “I never thought I’d ever get to kiss you.”

“And now that you have?” She asked in a whisper.

“I want more.”

The look in her eyes told me she did too. Like a ravenous animal, I spun her around pushing her against the door as I took her mouth in a deep, wanting kiss. She returned it with the same vigor as I had. God, it was exhilarating. It felt so good to kiss her, to feel her body pressed up against mine.

Her hands ran through my hair, gripping and pulling at it as I worked my tongue through her parted lips, finding hers in a tangle of need. My hands didn’t know where they wanted to explore first. Part of me was still stunned that I was even doing this, and the other part was calling for a Code Red. This wasn’t a drill, it was real. It was everything I’d fantasized about, but more. My imagination didn’t even come close to what it actually felt like to touch or kiss her. It was so much better.

The little moans that escaped her throat drove me wild. I pressed into her more feeling my dick harden. And that’s when my fucking conscience decided to take over. Liam’s face flashed in my mind prompting me to pull back, but not enough that I left her embrace.

I took a second to catch my breath. Her lips were swollen from the kiss. She was fucking irresistible. “We shouldn’t.” I looked at her with pleading eyes hoping she would agree. I wasn’t strong enough. Not anymore. I needed her to tell me to leave because I couldn’t on my own.

“What are you afraid of, Drake?” She asked, still panting.

I raised my hand to stroke the side of her cheek. “Not being able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.” Before I had a chance to think, she stood on her toes again and pulled me in for another kiss. This one with a fiery energy that awakened my soul.

I gave in to her, and it felt incredible. She wanted this, too, apparently just as much as I did. There was no way I could stop even though in the back of my brain the thought of Liam kept trying to change my mind.

I ran my hands down her body, lifting her up against the door so our faces were at the same height. She moaned against my mouth as we continued our fury of kisses. I nestled myself between her legs, grinding my hips into hers. Another moan from her made my dick harder than it’s ever been.

I pressed myself against her not giving a fuck if she felt the raging boner she gave me. Hell, I wanted her to feel it. At least this way, there was no mistaking how I felt for her. Where my words might get muddled up or betray me, my dick could stand hard and long against her letting Bragnae know my true feelings.

I wasn’t going to fuck her against the wall. Not for our first time. It needed to be special. It needed to be on a bed. So, I pulled her away from the door, and carried her over to the four-post bed and dropped us down on it. We situated our bodies more evenly on the mattress, not once breaking our connected lips.

On our sides, I pulled Bragnae closer to me, breathing in her sweet scent. Her body warm against mine. It was as if our mouths were designed for each other. They fit so perfectly together.

I slid my hand from her calf to her thigh, hooking her silky, smooth leg over my hips to bring her even closer. Bragnae pushed herself off the mattress and onto me, landing my shoulders flat against the bed. I fucking loved when a woman took charge. Fuck yes.

She hovered over me, not quite resting her body on mine as she seized my mouth for another round of hearty kisses. My hands found the back of her thighs roaming up and over her ass, bringing the skirt of her dress up as I gave her cheeks a generous squeeze.

My dick throbbed as it begged to be released from its denim captivity. My hips involuntarily thrusted up towards her. I needed to feel the weight of her body on me. On my dick. God, I needed that.

My hands continued up her body and found the zipper of her dress. I pulled it down as much as I could before she finally rested herself on me. The warmth of her core heating my hips distracted me from my task. I badly needed to readjust my dick, and get it out of my pants.

As if she heard my thoughts, Bragnae sat up running her hands slowly down my bare chest until they reached my belt. The top of her dress had loosened, and the way she sat prompted the straps of the dress and her bra to slide off her shoulder. Her hair fell forward in her face as she concentrated on undoing my belt.

I caressed her toned thighs as she popped open the button to my jeans and lifted her pelvis to pull my zipper down. I groaned as her fingers grazed my dick, which made her lean in for another hungry kiss. She hovered over me again, so I reached between us to pull my dick up and against my pelvis. It was much more comfortable this way and easier to pop out when she was ready. I kept it tucked beneath my briefs for now.

While my hand lingered in the area, I boldly decided to rub my fingers over her satin panties. I desperately needed to feel her. I wanted to know how wet she was. I rested my palm against her mound and let my fingers dance over her heat. Her panties were indeed wet. Fuck. I could come now just knowing I made her this way.

Bragnae broke our kiss to release a trembling moan. “Oh, Drake.”

God, I loved when she said my name. My fingers inched their way to slip inside her panties, but she moved away, resting herself on my hips instead. A tiny bit of panic set in. Maybe she didn’t want to go that far tonight. Fuck. I hoped she didn’t think I was rushing her. Maybe we shouldn’t even do this. How would I explain this to Liam?

My goddamn conscience spoke up again as I gently pushed her away. “Bennett, maybe we shouldn’t…”

She silenced me with another kiss. “Drake, relax. It’s okay. We’ll just keep it PG-13 for tonight,” she said before pulling my jeans further down my hips. Bragnae straddled me again, shifting her body until my erection sat perfectly between her legs. She grinded her still concealed pussy against my dick slowly keeping her eyes locked on mine the whole time. I let out a shuddering groan reveling in the heat and delightful pressure from her molten core.

I actually preferred the ‘Rated R’ version of this, but maybe it was best to keep skin contact out of it. At least until we figured this out. I had no idea where we’d go from here. We had definitely crossed a line and there was no going back. All I knew in that moment was that I didn’t want this to stop.

Bragnae moved her hips up the length of my shaft one time before resting at the base of my dick again. I shuddered with anticipation. Her hands propped on my chest as she stared down at me. Her gorgeous hair falling in her face again. She shimmied completely out of her dress straps, letting the fabric pool around her stomach. The pink and white bra made its appearance again. This time I was close enough to see it… and touch it, rather the ample breasts it supported.

Her nipples were hard and visible. I licked my lips wanting them in my mouth – at the very least between my fingers. Bragnae removed my hands from the sides of her hips and placed them over her breasts. I cupped and kneaded them immediately making her tilt her head back and close her eyes. She looked like an angel.

She was too far away. I sat up and captured her lips with my own before kissing down her neck and then to the curves of her chest. With one of my hands supporting her lower back, I focused the other on slowly pushing the fabric away from her right breast. I kissed every inch of bared skin that I exposed until I found the taut bud at the peak of her curves with my mouth.

Her head fell back even more as a whimpering moan left her body. I massaged the fullness of her breast as my tongue flicked her nipple back and forth several times. She must have enjoyed it because her hips started grinding against me again. Her breathing grew ragged while her fingers ran lazily through my hair. It felt so good to hold her like this. I desperately wished to be inside her.

“That feels so good, Drake,” she said softly. Her eyes still closed.

My dick twitched reminding me not to forget about him. Bragnae’s hips moved slowly against my shaft, but I needed more. As much as I wanted to dedicate more time to lavishing her chest with my mouth, I kissed my way up to hers again, bringing the attention back to our lower halves.

My hands found her hips, and together we moved her body against mine. Bragnae picked up the pace, propelling herself up and down my length, massaging it with heat and determination.

I blew out a breath on my way to losing control. “Fuck. That feels incredible.”

“Yes, it d—… yes,” she said, moving her hips even faster. She looped an arm around my neck, keeping her face close to mine. When we weren’t sharing unbalanced, breathy kisses, we were looking into each other’s eyes. It enhanced the experience considerably.

I tightened my grip around her lower back, pulling her against me more. Her mouth fell open and quivered, still grinding her hot pussy over my very eager dick. I used the strength in my forearms to help her move faster.

“Right there, Drake. Please don’t stop.” What a sweet sound it was to hear Bragnae beg me to keep her on track to coming.

“I won’t.” She was so sexy. I loved that she knew what she wanted. Too many times I’d be with a girl who was too timid to tell me where to guide my fingers or what position they preferred to get off. It was exhausting always being the one to have to make all the decisions or first moves.

She squeezed my shoulder. I knew she was close. I kissed her briefly once more before watching the satisfaction unfold on her face.

“Ohmigod,” she panted just before releasing the most beautiful and sensuous cry of pleasure I’d ever heard. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back as she reveled in her newly found bliss.

My imagination didn’t do this moment justice either. To say it was a privilege to watch Bragnae have an orgasm would be an understatement. I was insanely turned on watching her come, especially since I was the one who helped her get there.

As she recovered from her release, I kept a steady, but less intense pace than before knowing she’d be a little sensitive. I was close too. I needed her to move a little faster, but I’d wait.

A few seconds later, Bragnae used her weight to get me to lie back on the bed. She leaned in for another show-stopping kiss before setting a new pace to help me find mine. My hands flew to her hips again pushing and pulling her over my dick. It was feeling really good.

Soon, I felt a tightening in my balls as I approached the edge of all my desires. As if she knew to make the moment even better, Bragnae kissed me again, catching my bottom lip between her teeth. I gritted my teeth and exhaled a long groan, finally finding the release I’d been waiting for since the moment I laid eyes on Bragnae at the bar in New York. It gave me the relief and satisfaction I only dreamed of having.

I really would have loved to feel her from the inside, but at least this ended with both of us coming, and that was fine by me. She rested her cheek against my chest for another minute while she caught her breath. I wrapped my arms around her as I enjoyed the warmth and weight of her body on mine.

“I’m glad we did that, Drake. I know it was unexpected, and it’s certainly not becoming of one of Prince Liam’s suitors, but I couldn’t wait anymore.” She raised her head to look at me. “I hope you don’t regret it.”

I cupped her face with my hand. “No. I wanted that as much as you did. But we do have to figure this out.”

She smiled. “We will.” She dipped down to kiss me again. “We’re heading to Ramsford tomorrow. My home turf. Maybe we can find more time to talk then.”

“Sure, Bennett. I’d like that.” I took a moment longer to look at her. She had a relaxed, sexy glow about her that I’d never seen before. And I couldn’t wait to see it again.

[constantviewings]

The TV Show Trials - Inside No. 9

Inside No. 9 is a British black comedy anthology series that first aired in 2014. It is written by Reese Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton. Each 30-minute episode is a self-contained story with new characters and a new setting, and all star both Pemberton and Shearsmith.

12 Days of Christine

When Christine brings Adam home from a costume party, her life begins to unravel. Her happiness slowly turns to sorrow.

It’s only fitting that this episode is the most popular as it is what introduced me to this entire series. This episode is phenomenal and I really enjoyed it, even though I knew the entire plot going into it. Shearsmith and Pemberton where really smart in placing the elements of the conclusion throughout the entire episode for you to piece together at the end.

Rating: 5

The Devil of Christmas

In a film within the episode, The Devonshires arrive at the alpine chalet for a holiday. The caretaker, Klaus, tells them about a local legend of Krampus, the Devil of Christmas. Meanwhile, the film’s director provides audio commentary.

I really like the production of this episode, with it being shot entirely on equipment from the 70s, but I have issues with the ending. The ending, and the twist, feel unceremoniously tacked onto the third act and come out of nowhere, which left me confused and unaware of how to feel.

Rating: 3

Cold Comfort

Andy takes a job at Comfort Support Line’s call center, a helpline for the lonely and desperate. Will he be able to cope with the emotional stress after he becomes the target of a stalker?

The choice of having this all shown through security cameras is fantastic, as you can watch camera-by-camera as a character does something and provides visual interest to otherwise standard framing methods. The story is also pretty good with the twist being satisfying, but it doesn’t make much sense in the context of the characters.

Rating: 3

The Riddle of the Sphinx

Nina breaks into the office of Cambridge Professor Nigel Quires, who publishes cryptic crosswords in the student newspaper as “The Sphynx”. Squires proceeds to teach Nina how to solve cryptic crosswords using the next day’s puzzle.

This is my favourite of the episodes that I watched. I’m a big fan of ‘double twists’ where a character thinks they’ve won, but they’ve actually lost everything and that happens twice in this episode.

Rating: 5

Tom and Gerri

Tom is a frustrated primary school teacher and aspiring author. One night, a homeless man named Migg returns Tom’s lost wallet, and Migg ends up living with Tom, to the frustration of Tom’s girlfriend Gerri. Tom’s life changes dramatically as a result.

This episode doesn’t stand out to me like any of the others, it’s reasonably enjoyable but didn’t leave a lasting impression.

Rating: 2

The Bill

A group of friends go out for tapas at Number Nine after a day of golfing; but tempers escalate quickly when they can’t agrees on how to settle the bill. Who will pay the ultimate price?

I’m going to be completely transparent, the bickering between the four main characters is extremely grading and I was over it ten minutes into the episode; but I’m interpreting that as fantastic writing. I also think they could have been a bit more inventive with the ‘No. 9’ element of this episode by having it take place at table nine instead of the restaurant “Number Nine”. Despite those two less than stellar elements, the final twist almost makes the thirty minutes of grading bickering worth it.

Rating: 3

La Couchette

A group of passengers in carriage nine on a train from France try to get some sleep, but the compartment quickly fills up and the possibility of sleep dwindles away. Then one of the passengers suddenly dies.

Similar to Tom and Gerri, I could take or leave this episode. It’s not that it’s particularly bad, it just isn’t particularly good or memorable. In a hypothetical situation where you can only choose five episodes of Inside No. 9, this one wouldn’t make the cut unfortunately.

Rating: 3

Once Removed

According to the Holes and Rahe Stress Scale, the three most stressful experienced in life are the death of a spouse, divorce and imprisonment. Moving house is only 32nd on the list. But anything could happen in the last ten minutes inside no 9.

I’ll be honest, most of the points for this episodes rating can be chalked up to its unique story structure where it jumps back in ten minute intervals whenever the plot catches up. Other than that, I found this episode quite standard.

Rating: 3

To Have and To Hold

When Adrian’s career as a wedding photographer starts to get in the way of his own marriage, his wife Harriet is determined to find out why.

This episode is somewhat mediocre, until the twist rears its head and then it’s all uphill from there.

Rating: 4

Bernie Clifton’s Dressing Room

It’s been 30 years since Northern double-act Len and Tommy last appeared on stage together. Then Tommy walked out on Len, and that was curtains for Cheese and Crackers. Until now – and one last gig in front of an invited audience.

This episode hits different, the entire episode (apart from maybe a minute) is just Shearsmith and Pemberton doing old, outdated skit comedy and it’s fantastic.

Rating: 4

Thinking Out Loud

Inside house no. 9, seven extremely disparate characters share their stories with a camera, their fats inevitably, inextricably, and unknowingly set for a head-on collision.

I’ll be completely honest and say that I was let down with this episode. Every time a new character was introduced I was piecing together the ways in which they could be connected to the others, only for them to all be split personalities. While I can’t comment on the accuracy of the portrayal of DID, it still felt stereotypical as a narrative device.

Rating: 3

And the Winner Is…

We join jury no. 9 of a television awards company as they decide on who is going to win the Best Actress award. But only one of the eight actresses can be chosen.

This episode was a little bit, dare I say it, uninspired? While it stars an impressive cast, it doesn’t make up for the lacklustre story. Maybe you need to know more about the industry to get it…

Rating: 2

Zanzibar

Strangely-farcical goings-on are in store for a group of unwitting guests, who have all booked adjoining rooms on the ninth floor of the Zanzibar hotel in London. This episode’s dialogue is written entirely in iambic pentameter.

On top of all taking place in a single hallway, this episode has another gimmick in that it is all performed in iambic pentameter which adds a unique charm to an otherwise unimpressive story.

Rating: 4

The Harrowing

In this horror comedy with a grim twist, a teenage girl is hired to housesit a gothic mansion, but it appears that there are scary things going on inside no 9.

I’ll give them this much, they tried something different. Did it work out? Not for me. Though Shearsmith singing Lord of the Dance flung me back into catholic school mass…

Rating: 2

Sardines

Rebecca and Jeremy hold their engagement party as Rebecca’s family mansion. The guests play a game of sardines, and as Rebecca’s friends and family are packed into a wardrobe, secrets are gradually revealed, leading to a dark and sinister discovery.

Like the 12 Days of Christine, I cheated slightly with this episode. This was the first episode I ever watched of Inside No. 9 and is the whole reason I am reviewing the show. This was my third time watching the episode, and it’s still just as good as the first two.

Rating: 5

(Bonus Episode) Dead Line

When Arthur finds an old mobile phone in his local graveyard, he makes the mistake of trying to contact the owner. But some mysteries are best left unsolved, and as Halloween draws near Arthur is plunged into a nightmare of his own making.

The plot description above isn’t exactly what the episode entails, because this is the live broadcast Halloween special from 2018 where they faked the whole thing going wrong. While it doesn’t have the same effect watching it on a laptop two years after the fact, if you can put that aside and fully immerse yourself into believing what they want you to, it’s still amazing.

Rating: 5

Did I like it? Most of the episodes, yes.

Will I continue watching? God yes, thank god it’s been renewed for two more seasons…