#service training manual

[evergreen-pumpkin]

A snapshot of one morning, on a relaxed day with mild weather. Now imagine this when it's crowded or when it's raining or snowing.

Video description: POV from the lap of a wheelchair user. Very shaky. OP is going downhill on a fall day. Lots of trees and fallen leaves around. There are construction trucks to the left in the very beginning. Every now and then, you can see a German Shepherd on the left. Second obstacle shows a food robot crossing the sidewalk to drive in front of OP, but it stops suddenly and OP crashes into it. OP continues down the hill until she reaches another food robot, which is obstacle 3. This robot sits in the middle of the sidewalk while OP navigates around it. Then OP comes to a concrete ramp with iron railings, which is obstacle 3.5. It is very steep. After the ramp, OP goes to cross the street, where a black SUV blows through the crosswalk. Obstacle 4 is a ramp with red brick. OP struggles to move up and pauses at one point before continuing again to obstacle 5, where there is a big concrete building and manual doors. The German Shepherd service dog goes up to push the accessibility button multiple times to no avail. A student comes and opens the door, OP enters through two sets of doors into a hallway. Clip change to obstacle 6, OP is wheeling down a hallway and approaches a white elevator with out of order signs.

End of description.

[s2labs]

Manual Testing

In manual testing, testers execute test cases manually without the use of automation tools. This basic testing technique involves human effort to identify errors, issues, or defects within a software program.

Read More: Complete Guide for Manual Testing Process!

[printpallondonsblog]

Training Manual Printing Services

Need professional training manual printing services for your business? Printpal London offers reliable, high-quality printing solutions to help you deliver clear and comprehensive training materials. Whether it’s for employee onboarding, product manuals, or instructional guides, we ensure that your training documents are printed with crisp detail and durability. We offer customization options including binding, color printing, and eco-friendly materials to suit your specific needs. Trust Printpal London to deliver polished, professional manuals that enhance your training programs. Get in touch today!

[oniontrainingacademy]

Onion Training Academy - Professional CV and Resume Writing Services

Do you want to increase your job prospects with a professionally prepared CV or resume? Onion Training Academy provides experienced CV and resume writing services that will effectively highlight your skills and experience. At Onion Training Academy, we understand the importance of a well-written CV or resume in leaving a lasting impression on employers. Allow us to help you separate yourself from the competition and open up new opportunities in your field. Onion Training Academy offers Professional CV and Resume Writing Services that can propel you to success.

[foone]

Have you heard about the Polish Train company, Newag, and the bullshit it turns out they got up to?

So, the regional rail operator Koleje Dolnośląskie bought some Newag Impuls back in 2016 . In late 2021, some of them need to have major maintenance done, as they've been in service a while. So the company SPS (Serwis Pojazdów Szynowych) gets the contract to fix them. They basically take the train apart, replace a bunch of it, following all the rules in the documentation Newag gave them, and... it won't move. The train says everything is fine, the brakes are off, there's plenty of power, but you push the throttle up and it won't move.

SPS spends a while trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong, with no luck. So they hire some hackers from the Polish security group Dragon Sector. Dragon Sector figures out how to get into the code of the computer system that runs the train, and OH MY GOD.

So it turns out there's a secret train-lock system. If it's on, the train won't move. This will be triggered in some situations you might think are normal: the clocks are wrong, the serial numbers of the various parts have changed, and a firmware mismatch between the main computer and the power system. Now, the fact that it makes sense to not run the train in these situations until someone can check it? that doesn't extend to the fact the train uses a SECRET lock system, rather than just popping up an error message telling you what's wrong. There's also the problem that while these are all potential error problems, they can't be cleared by anyone with the technical manuals, which are supposed to cover everything about how to run these trains. Only Newag themselves can reset this system.

Which, you know, keeps SPS from properly fixing them. Only Newag can fix them now, but not because SPS lacks any technical ability, but because Newag sabotaged their own trains. But don't worry: it gets worse.

So now that Dragon Sector knows what's happening, they get to look at other trains. It turns out the trains aren't all running the same software, and there are other tricks in there.

One of them is a "how long has the train been stopped?" check. If the train hasn't hit 60 km/h in 10 days, the train locks itself and won't move until Newag can clear it. So, like, if a train is ever out of service, like it's going to a repair place... it'll break itself. Unless the repair place is owned by Newag.

But two of the trains go further: See, these trains have GPS built in, right? You may be able to guess where this is going...

THEY JUST MAKE THE TRAIN CHECK IF IT IS PARKED AT THEIR COMPETITORS' REPAIR YARD AND BREAK ITSELF IF IT WAS.

The sheer audacity of this move. This is frighteningly bullshit anti-competition self-sabotage.

This has, obviously, made some parts of the Polish government to start investigating this. Newag may be (and hopefully will be) in a lot of trouble.

For more info, there's a great video of a presentation by the three people from Dragon Sector who did the hacking, which was presented at the 37th Chaos Communication Congress in Germany.

Ars Technica also has an article on it, but it predates the presentation so it doesn't have some of the later details.

Anyway, the good news is that in the end the hackers at Dragon Sector were able to unlock most of the trains: A few had additional trickery that they didn't want to hack around, because it might break the train's certification. For the others, they discovered undocumented "cheat codes" in the software that they could use to bypass the secret lockouts... presumably the same ones that Newag would have used when they "repaired" trains.

[katzenklavierr]

I am once again reminding people that Vocaloid and other singing synthesizers are not the same as those AI voice models made from celebrities and cartoon characters and the like.

Singing synthesizers are virtual instruments. Vocaloids use audio samples of real human voices the way some other virtual instruments will sample real guitars and pianos and the like, but they still need to be "played", per say, and getting good results requires a lot of manual manipulation of these samples within a synthesis engine.

Crucially, though, the main distinction here is consent. Commercial singing synthesizers are made by contracting vocalists to use their voices to create these sample libraries. They agree to the process and are compensated for their time and labor.

Some synthesizer engines like Vocaloid and Synthesizer V do have "AI" voice libraries, meaning that part of the rendering process involves using an AI model trained on data from the voice provider singing in order to ideally result in more naturalistic synthesis, but again, this is done with consent, and still requires a lot of manual input on the part of the user. They are still virtual instruments, not voice clones that auto-generate output based on prompts.

In fact, in the DIY singing synth community, making voice libraries out of samples you don't have permission to use is generally frowned upon, and is a violation of most DIY engines' terms of service, such as UTAU.

Please do research before jumping to conclusions about anything that remotely resembles AI generation. Also, please think through your anti-AI stance a little more than "technology bad"; think about who it hurts and when it hurts them so you can approach it from an informed, critical perspective rather than just something to be blindly angry about. You're not helping artists/vocalists/etc. if you aren't focused on combating actual theft and exploitation.

[helldivers-2]

Important question:

Is it true that service to the Helldivers guarantees gender-affirming care?

Of course! We even mention this in the Training Manual Tips:

(Diversity win! Am I right?)

[merlincmgirl]

Your Boys To The Rescue

Summary: You've somehow managed to get trapped in the refresher and it's up to your boys in the Torrent Company to come get you out.

Author's Note: So this is my first clone fic, and the first fic I've written in ages! I was heavily inspired by the tiktok (link below). Please be kind, I hope that I was able to capture everyone right. Can be seen as pre-relationship or platonic reader x torrent company.

Characters: Rex, Kix, Jesse, Fives, Hardcase, Tup, Dogma

Word count: 2020

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe12t8Sr/

You were mortified. Absolutely mortified. Hearing the voices on the other side of the door, arguing between themselves was not making you feel any better. You desperately wanted to disappear but there was no chance of that, not while the kriffing refresher door was stuck.

It was just your luck you decided to shower in the refresher attached to your office. The work you had been doing was still piled high on your desk, and you thought a nice warm shower would be just the thing to relax you and prepare you for the unending amount of flimsi you had to go through. It had been going so well until you realised that you had left your clean uniform in your office and went to go get it, only a towel wrapped around you. A simple, honest mistake that was now costing you because the door was jammed. It refused to open, no matter how many times you had tried.

That had been when Captain Rex had knocked on your office door, wishing to talk to you about some report that you had sent over to him. Your desperation to get out of the refresher outweighed your pride as you banged loudly on the metal door, begging him to help you out and find a way to open the door. He had tried everything to open the door by himself, but after trying everything he could, he had to call in reinforcements.

Now, you were leaning against the counter, towel covering your modesty as Torrent Company tried to either break down the door (Hardcase had swiftly received a slap off someone for that suggestion); or slice the mechanics/electrics of the door to at least slide it open to get you out of there. That suggestion was greatly preferred.

“Mesh’la, how you doing in there?” Rex called through the door. He sounded quite close to it and you shuffled forward so that he could hear you better over the small curses of his men and the sound of tools.

“I’m fine Captain, just… bit cold in here” you admitted, rubbing up and down your arms to try and bring some warmth into them. It had been about half an hour since you got out of the shower, and the cool metal of the room was not helping you at all.

“We’ll warm you up as soon as you as we get you out of here” Hardcase assured, followed swiftly by a cry of pain.

“Hardcase!”

“What?! It was a joke! Lighten up a little Dogma!” Hardcase complained, not sounding a bit sorry about what he said. You couldn’t help but let out a small snicker, used to the clone’s brand of humour.

“Knock it off you two. How are we in getting this door open?” Rex rebuked, bringing them back on task.

“It’s not looking good. Looks like it might be a manual override” you heard Jesse admit quietly. Groaning at your misfortune, you began to pace up and down, as much as you could anyway in the tiny refresher. “Don’t worry, cyare, we’ll get you out of there soon” Jesse promised, not wanting to upset you even more.

“Boys, perhaps we should get a service droid in to fix it?” you suggested, leaning your head against the metal door. It was soothing and brought you out of your head a little.

“We’ve got this, cyar’ika! They teach us slicing in ARC training” Fives bragged, making his brothers groan and tell him to shut up.

“If that was the case, Rex would have been able to get me out. This rate, I’m going to have to give my briefings through the door dressed in a towel!” you complained, unable to help the little pout that pulled at your lips. It was the least you deserved, especially as you had a morning briefing with the Admiral and Generals.

“At least you’d look hot, cyar’ika!” Fives flirted with you, making you smile.

“Not helping Fives!” you chuckled, going back to pacing again.

There was a large creak before lots of cursing and cries of pain. “What happened?” you demanded, rushing to the door and trying to pry it open with your bare hands.

“These di’kuts pulled the wrong circuits and got shocked for their troubles!” a grumbled voice came from further away in your office. You knew that voice, even if it was the same as his millions’ of brothers. Kix was here. Rex must have called him when he had went to get the others.

“Your bedside manner needs work vod!” Jesse complained, shaking his head and going back to the door along with Fives and Hardcase.

“Rex! You called Kix? But I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all!” you argued with the Captain. Now there was even more people to witness your shame and embarrassment.

“Just a precaution, Mesh’la. You can’t be too careful” Rex answered, and you could already imagine the smirk on his face at that. You didn’t like to be checked over by the medics, especially if there were clones who were also injured. You would rather put them in front of you.

“Hey, I think we’ve got it. Stand away from the door ma’am” Tup soft voice warned you. It warmed your inside at how caring these boys was to you.

“Thanks Tup, but there’s not much room in here if it falls in” you informed him, standing as far back as you can.

“Oh wait a minute! I think that’s it!” Fives muttered, voice rising in excitement. By the force you hoped that they had finally got it.

“There’s a piece right there!” Hardcase pointed out, tinkling with the tools in his hand.

“You see that piece right there?” Dogma asked, leaning over his brothers’ shoulders to poke at it. Kix pulled him back before he could get sparked.

“Yeah, yeah, I see it. Hold on” Jesse grunted, trying to move around Hardcase to be able to fix it in place.

“Just hold it right there, no. Not there, di’kut, where I’m pointing! Tup keep the torch still!” Fives grumbled, as his brothers were not helping him at all. You sighed, it had been like this for half an hour, all of them sniping and snapping at each other.

“No, you have to pull it up to the side” Hardcase argued instead.

“I am keeping it still!” Tup added.

“Someone just get General Skywalker! I’m sure he’d be able to fix it in no time!” you begged, desperate to get out of the kriffing refresher and into bed to catch a few hours of sleep before you had to go back to work.

“Men!” Rex’s sharp voice cut through their argument. “Don’t worry mesh’la, I promise they’re nearly done. Just a few more minutes” Rex soothed, hearing how frazzled you were becoming with the situation.

Sighing heavily, you waited for the door to open. You loved these idiots, but god did you feel like killing them right now. They could have their arguments later, but all you wanted was to get out. You didn’t want to be stuck in a refresher all your life. There was plans on the horizon for your future, not dying in the refresher because of the kriffing door!

There was a loud twang and your heart leapt into your throat as you hoped it was the mechanism for the door. But still nothing happened. It kept stubbornly in it’s jam.

“I wouldn’t drive it in though” Dogma frowned, shaking his head at his brothers’ rough work with the delicate pieces of machinery.

“Shut up Dogma!” Jesse huffed back.

“He almost had it then!” Hardcase assured his brother, as the wire in front of them shifted back to where it wasn’t meant to be.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Don’t push it!”

“AHH FIVES! I said DON’T push it!” Jesse cried, as he almost had it again but it slipped through his fingers as Fives moved his screwdriver slightly.

“Well I thought you meant push it!” Fives complained, and you couldn’t help but laugh, burying your head into your hands. The vode always made you laugh, even in the direst of situations.

There was some rattling and without any resistance, the doors pulled apart, revealing the group of men by the door. Hardcase, Jesse, Fives and Dogma was squashed around the panel housing the controls. Tup standing behind them, torch in hand. Rex and Kix was standing in the doorway, both of them looking you over.

“Ooh!” you squeaked out, clutching onto your towel tighter.

Rex, realising that him and his men was getting a good look at you in your towel, quickly snapped out of his heated gaze and turned to address the men. “Eyes front and centre soldiers!” he barked out, making them snap to attention and face forward.

“Er… Captain… I’m still front and centre” you mumbled, heat rushing to your cheeks as Fives winked at you.

“Oh… right… sorry Mesh’la. Avert your eyes!” Rex ordered, voice wavering slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn that the Captain’s cheeks were becoming a little redder.

“Hey, cyar’ika, how are you feeling? Any shaking? Signs of hypothermia?” Kix asked, jumping straight into his medic role as he came over to scan you.

“How come he gets to look?” Hardcase complained, making you blush even more.

“Because I’m a medic, and a professional! You might want to look that up, vod!” Kix retorted, before turning back to you. “Anyway, are you experiencing any symptoms of dizziness, nausea?” Kix questioned, running an eye over you as you shivered slightly.

“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy and tired… and hungry” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck abashedly.

“Hmm, we should get you sitting down and something to help warm you up” Kix nodded, turning to his commanding officer. Rex nodded, instructing Tup to go and get you something warm from the mess hall.

“Thank you guys, I don’t know what I would do without you” you bid the troopers behind Kix. Tup nodded swiftly and hurried out the room, the back of his neck colouring.

“Come sit down” Rex encouraged, hand coming over to your elbow to help guide you into your office and onto the couch that you had smuggled in with the men’s help last time that you were planet-side.

Rex and Kix helped you to sit down, Kix busying with making sure that you were okay and not hiding anything. “Honestly Kix, I’d tell you if I weren’t doing good. I’m just a bit cold, that’s all. I promise, nothing to worry about” you assured, not noticing the towel fall open on your thigh.

Rex coughed, making his men spin around, mumbling apologies and excuses not to look your way. “I think that’s enough gawking for one night. You’re dismissed” Rex stated, crossing his arms and standing in front of you, trying to block you from sight.

“Wait! Before you go, you’ll have to let me know how I can repay you for this” you called after them, resting your hand on Rex’s back to help push him gently to one side so you could see your rescuers.

“You can buy us a drink at 79’s if you really want” Jesse suggested, making you beam. That was an easy thing for you to do to repay them for their kindness and help.

“Done!” you agreed, before you remembered a conversation with General Kenobi last time you were on shore leave with the 212th. “Wait! I thought you got drinks free at 79s!” you frowned, as they were nearly out the door.

“Oh the beer we do. The cocktails… well that’s all on you now cyare” Fives teased, before pushing Dogma and Jesse out the door in front of him.

You gaped after their retreating forms. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“I hope you have a lot of money, ad’ika” Kix shook his head, finishing his checks on you and pulling the scanner down.

“Because they’re going to bleed you dry, Mesh’la” Rex chuckled wryly, amused at your surprised at being played by his men.

[mistydeyes]

suppressed feelings of hatred

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: With the 141 gone and transferred to somewhere unknown, your life should've returned back to normal but you still find your self haunted by a singular man.

part i - behind closed doors part ii - hollow apologies and avoiding glances part iii - half empty glasses with unchanging perspectives

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader (but like not even a pairing at this point lol)

okay real talk here and same psa as before but please do not read if you are not comfortable with ANY OF THIS! it is upsetting in all aspects!!

warnings: mentions of torture/violence/cuts/scars, swearing, blood, abusive language, ANGST GALORE

a/n: AS PROMISED here we have part iv! not as heavy as the previous ones but trust me it sets up the next part of their story. i also have a few asks in my inbox with some amazing ideas and thoughts on the story so be sure to look for a q+a coming up!

 💌 @nadinesabre @casualunknownrunaway @originaldeerhottub @justpasssingby @missroro @josieguts @miss-i-ship-it @sicknasty03 @jojoblossom @azwong @shadofireshinobi @caramlizedtomatoes @deltottoro @kenz-ee @teehee-47 @tiredmetalenthusiast @hollowmasque @strawberrychita @capricorn-anon @rapture2009 @studioghiblijiji @bitchoftoji @mikeswifie

and for @lirikonjaa mmmmm just gotta be searching for that happy ending bc HAHa DARK TIMES ARE BACK FOR ECLIPSE

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

“Love, it’s time to wake up,” you could hear a voice reassure you as you stretched your tired limbs in the warm sheets. You lazily moved the hair out of your eyes as you adapted to the stream of morning light. The room was warmly aglow and smelled vaguely of cinnamon and pancakes. Despite the unknown location, you felt comforted by the figure by your side. “Did you sleep well?” the voice asked as you turned over. In your bed, lay Simon with a boyish smile on his rested face. His torso was exposed and revealed a soft web of silvery scars.“Well enough,” you replied as you put a hand on his turned side. He moved an arm to caress your form. His touch was soft as he ran his fingers along your naked body. As you embraced the radiant sun and his smile, you could feel his arm move up to your shoulder and neck. “What are you doing?” was all you could muster out before you felt his hands tighten ever so slowly around your neck. “I’ll make sure to do the job right this time.”

“GET OFF OF ME!” you screamed as you jerked forward. Your forehead was slick with sweat as you gripped the cold sheets. You tore them off, exposing yourself to the night air of your quarters. You couldn’t help but throw the bottle of Trazadone that was mockingly sitting on your nightstand. It was added to your hefty regiment after you complained of insomnia and the inability to relax. Now you were blessed with horrifying dreams and the image of a singular masked individual.

Mere hours later you made the quick jog to your workstation. You could see your reflection on the shined letters of the wing. THE EDUCATIONAL & TRAINING SERVICES SECTOR it read and you couldn't help but scoff. Rather than a decorated and experienced sergeant, you were relinquished to be a glorified teacher's assistant. As you entered the bright desk space, you greeted your commanding officer with a monotone, "Good morning." He followed you as you sunk down at the sturdy wooden desk with the current files of the newest recruits. "Fresh from Pirbright," he commented before patting your shoulder and walking away. Even at the slight, platonic touch, you could feel shivers envelop your body. You dug your fingernails into the woven fabric of your khaki trousers as you tried to slow your breathing. "Everything alright?" your colleague asked as she looked around her stack of the newest training programmes and manuals. You gave her a slight wave of the hand and returned to the files. "Someone needs their coffee," she commented under her breath and it took everything in you not to throw the stack at her bun.

The day dragged on painstakingly slowly as you flipped through the confidential files of young teenagers, so full of life and energy. You envied their excitement in the photos as through their stoic smiles, you could see light within their eyes. You were like that once, 16 and ready to serve your country. Emphasis on once. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," you could feel yourself repeating internally. When it came to the next file, you immediately slammed it closed, cutting your index finger in the process. You held your finger to your mouth, feeling nauseous at the taste of iron on your tongue. You could feel the pressure mount as you felt the piercing gaze of the office center on your hunched-over figure. Before anyone could rush over with fake sympathies, you slowly opened the file as it lay mockingly on your desk. 

You held in all emotions as you looked at the singular picture of the newest recruit. The name and details of the potential soldier grew hazy in your eyes but that wasn't what you found yourself focusing on. The boy's eyes were brown, almost black in the darkened lighting of the Pirbright intake center. The darkness dissipated into his deep eye bags which conveyed sleepless nights and perpetual insomnia. However, what made your throat rise in anxiety and ears ring with white noise was the way the deep-set eyes and feathery lashes stared into your soul. For those weren't the eyes of this random recruit, they were the eyes of a pre-mature killer. The eyes of a future torturer who coincidentally resembled the singular man who haunted your every dream. They contained the aura of a cold-hearted man, the eyes of Ghost.

As you felt exposed under the strong gaze, you could hear someone clear their throat behind you. "Something the matter, Sergeant?" your commanding officer said, a hint of kindness and concern in his voice. You struggled to keep your cool as you turned back to him. "Just a little tired, Captain," you replied to the best of your ability, "you know the eye strain and all." As you covered your lie with a hollow laugh, he shook his head. "Take the rest of the day off," he instructed, "Pirbright isn't bussing them over until next week." With that, you got up from your desk and pocketed your few belongings. You could feel your fingernails pierce into the thin flesh of your palms as you exited. You wanted to scream the minute you entered back into the hallway to the barracks. You hated the way people looked at you like a kicked puppy or the sympathetic tones that laced every conversation. Hell, ever since last month, you should've been ecstatic. 

"We're transferring," Gaz said after a surprise visit to your side of the base. You were enraged at the bold gesture as he stood there in his stupid cap. He was in your safe space, the only place you could run away from it all and not have to have any reminder of them. To his "farewell", you nodded as you gritted your teeth. It was a thoughtless gesture that he saw through. A pitiful attempt to keep up appearances to the gazes of the office. "That's great news," you said, fake enthusiasm coating your voice. His smile faltered as he stuck out a hand to you. Staring back at it, you let your facade fall and put your hands back behind your back. "Goodbye, Gaz." you simply remarked before retreating out of his pitiful sight. 

Yet as you returned back to your dim room, you felt like you were drowning in a sea of emotions. You kicked the closed door before turning on the lights to reveal a small manila folder on the ground. You cautiously approached it before picking it up gingerly and laying it on your desk. As you opened the folder up, you were distracted by a singular bold color in your periphery. A red post-it note. You found yourself grinning at the sight of it as you held it in your trembling hands. The file's contents were the least of your concerns as you smiled at the words scribbled in black ink. It practically looked like a calling card that answered your frustrations, as if someone knew and shared in your deep hatred for the 141. “Heard you needed someone, contact P.G. You know where to find him, Eclipse.”

[multiwreckedmess]

Two Princes

Pairing: Prince!Hyunjin x fem!servant!Reader x Prince!Felix Genre: Royalty AU Smut WC: 5.5k Summary: A kingdom unlucky in queens but lucky in princes, you live a pleasant life inside the castle walls. Given to the crown by your parents for training it was only a matter of time until you ran into the two golden Princes Hyunjin and Felix.  TW/CW: Power imbalance. SoftDom!Hyunjin, SoftDom!Felix, unprotected penetration, non-explicit consent, reader is called “darling” “miss”, hyunlix is called “sir”, slight breeding kink, double penetration, Felix and Hyunjin aren’t related but are close like brothers so if that gives you the ick heads up ig, basically 5.5k of pwop.

As usual, this is fiction not a resource manual for how to do literally anything in life. This does not represent ANYONE real or fictional. also not proofread sorry...

You prayed no one would notice the waves forming in the dark wine as your hands shook. Only a month into your service at the castle and you’d made it to the throne room. The matron had looked at you proudly for once that morning, announcing that you would take up the place usually kept by her as a capstone to your training. Muscles tense and locked you acutely wanted to appear composed and graceful, as though you’d done the job for decades. Prove to them that you were born to serve the throne.

Or in this case, the thrones of Princes Hyunjin and Felix.

Two striking young men, crowned with golden locks and reputations to match. Truly the kingdom was blessed despite the tragedy that had led to the familial merger. Not directly related by blood the two boys had still had become fast friends and confidants to each other as the King had aimed for.

“You will hardly see one without the other so I suggest you be ready to see double.” Your matron gently chided, stuffing a second handkerchief into your apron. “Have two of everything! We’d hate to think the Princes might ever want for more.”

You nodded fiercely. Amongst the many new rules this one was easy to remember. Two princes. Each gets his own copy when possible.

Pouring from the decanter into Hyunjin’s cup was the closest you’d ever been to either prince. Sharp jawline, plush lips, seemingly shaped by the goddess herself. Almost an artifact of another world, dangerous to gaze at for too long yet irresistible.

“The glass dear, it’s close,” his velvet voice jolts you from your thoughts, eyes flicking down to the nearly overflowing glass.

Hastily you right the decanter, a million apologies bumbling and stumbling and tripping over each other in your mouth as you shrink looking towards the ground.

Hyunjin’s fingers wrap themselves gracefully under your jaw, righting your posture with a practiced ease. “Now, now, no need for all of that. While this is simply too much for me to drink, I can easily share some with my brother, isn’t that right Felix?” Your eyes flick to the other prince, whose head turns slightly surprised to hear his name.  “Please Felix if I may,” Hyunjin gestures with his cup, dark red liquid wobbling precariously near the rim.

Felix’s eyes narrow, flitting from you to the glass to Hyunjin before extending it to his brother with a small smirk. “Of course. No need for our pretty little attendant to worry. We’re quite good at sharing when needed.”

Carefully steadying the younger’s outstretched wine glass, Hyunjin slowly pours from his cup to Felix’s. There is something disconcerting in the way Felix’s eyes rake over you. It makes your stomach tense and lungs freeze in place. No one in the room says a word as Hyunjin tilts his glass upright, forefinger collecting a stray bead of wine as it slips down the edge of the glass. Time seems to freeze as your eyes meet his tongue slowly licks the droplet from his finger, barely even meeting the skin. You don’t even realize how wide your eyes are, how you’ve sealed you lips in a thin line of shock.

“See, we can share quite well when called upon.” Hyunjin giggles.

An advisor, sat on a luxurious leather wingback chair, clears his throat anxiously. “Let’s not play with our food, boys. As you can see from the agenda there are several economic initiatives that need attending to. Once we are done you are free to spend your time however you wish, but for now you have ceded this time to us.”

The two princes straighten in their thrones and nod, dismissing you back to the small stool and table sat in the corner for you. Briefly your knees knock together, unsure of what the concept of “walking” even was. Manuel mode enabled, you lift your unwilling legs and march at what you think is the speed you normally walk, hoping against hope you haven’t drawn excessive attention to yourself.

Fear flutters in your chest as you watch the room, advisors passionately providing their arguments to the princes, both sat and attentive to each as they spoke. This must be what power is, wordlessly commanding respect but lending that same floor to others when asked. Quiet, unassuming, but simmering below the surface.

You had a similar encounter with the princes very early on in your days as you’d scurried along one of the many arcades on the perimeter of the inner ward. Late for your etiquette lesson, already a demerit, you spotted the pair directly in your path. Both kitted out with their tight white fencers dress, headed to the field for a friendly spar. Felix gently swatting at Hyunjins thighs with the practice foil, Hyunjin jumped, laughing. Bubbling with affection towards each other you wanted to just sit there and watch them, living as a fly or a spider or some other unsightly insect just to see their smiles.

And that’s when you realized you’d stopped fully and were staring in an unbecoming manner.

And they’d noticed.

And they were staring back.

The force of the realization threw you behind the nearest piller, back pressed to the cool stone, waiting to hear their footsteps. Heart thudding wildly you know you shouldn’t hide from them, it isn’t right to hide from them, you are there to serve them not spy on them. Their footsteps fade and disappear as you melt against the column. Maybe you’d hallucinated their line of sight, maybe someone else was behind you.

A harsh clang of metal hitting your column jolts you, sending you yelping and jumping away.

The boys burst into laughter, one climbing in pitch the other diving deep into his register. Hyunjin winks as you turn and run away, feet pounding into the ground, chest heaving.

“Sorry didn’t see you there!” He calls after you jovially. Not that it mattered whether or not it was on purpose.

Today you were finding out that the throne room assignment was mostly about waiting. No matter how scant the crowd was, you had to wait until the princes left to clear the drinks, one of many rules you memorized and repeated as you sat idle, waiting to be needed. At least with the great hall no matter how hectic the activity seemed to have a set pattern which you had grown used to and memorized like a court dance. Mind wandering you watch the advisors drift off into adjoining halls and rooms, half drunk glasses of mead and wine alike littering the table as evidence of their having attended.

And suddenly the princes’ full attention was on you. The same calm gaze with which they’d heard out the court they fixed on you, like a spotlight had decided to shine directly down on you. It would be out of turn to speak but it was increasingly warm under their watchful eyes. Subconsciously your fingers worked over the skirt of your apron, nervously smoothing over and picking the pills.

“Miss, are we truly that scary?” Felix smiles at you. “Please. Come sit, we don’t bite!” He’s warm like sunshine with every word he speaks to you.

Perhaps before now you’d never truly appreciated the concept of ‘scurrying’ as you shuffled speedily to kneel between the twin thrones, head bowed. Skirts billowing out around you like a flower you tuck your hands in front of you, perfectly as taught. You can hear the princes stifle a laugh, bodies shifting towards each other in the top of your peripheral vision.

“We did mean sit when we said sit. You don’t have to kneel so formally.”

“I’m sorry your royal highnesses. This is what my training instructed me to do. How would you prefer me, sirs?” You dare not raise your gaze for fear of losing your mind.

Felix smirks and licks his lips, “well if you could look at us that would be a start.”

With a gulp you raise your chin, eyes still tracing the air around their bodies rather than daring to look directly at them.

“She’s so cute, Felix! So proper. Our matron dearest really went too far with her I think.” Hyunjin nearly brags to Felix as though you aren’t directly in front of them.

“Really such a dear thing. All nervous over us like this.”

Hyunjin kneels slightly beside you, close like you had been to pour his wine. “As beautiful as you look on your knees I’d love you to take a seat for us. Can you do that? You can choose anywhere you like, even our laps if they look comfortable. I assure you no better seat in the entire palace.” His tone caresses your nerves, codling you. Almost easing you into standing before them, still trembling. As you turn to pick a chair his voice calls again. “Oh before you sit, please, remove that apron for us, darling.”

Quick to respond to his request you fumble with the pins holding the top half of the apron, hands shaking like leafs.

It’s Felix’s turn to step forward. Taking a quick stride to position himself behind you he easily plucks the knot loose, arms wrapping around your waist to catch the sheath of fabric over his arm. His chin bumps your shoulder, face close to yours in a way you never dared think about. Ears flashing hotly you stumble back on him with a squeak.

“Oh!” Felix exclaims, righting you in his grasp. “I think our darling’s corset is restricting her too much. She nearly fainted right here!”

Mouth opened wide in dismay. You want to fight him on his assumption. Your bindings were fine, it was he that was the problem. But you can’t bring yourself to say it was him. Training taking over, what he said must’ve been right. The girls always did have a habit of lacing too tightly in the morning when their stomachs were empty from hours sleeping.

“Felix, if you think that’s the problem I give you full permission to remove the offending clothing. We can’t have anyone passing out in our care.”

“Sirs! No, I’m fine really, that’s so much-” your panicked voice reaches a high tremor. The reality of the request forcing your hand. You’d be basically nude in the throne room, thin chamise only blurring what the imagination could easily place beneath the formless white fabric.

“What is your primary duty?” Hyunjin barks out suddenly, stilling you.

“To serve the throne, sir.”

“And if you faint? How will that be in service to us?”

“It will not be in service.”

His eyes sparkled, “then by that logic, if removing your bodice serves the throne…?”

“The bodice should be…removed.” You reply shyly, ducking your head to hide your face.

Felix’s small fingers neatly unhook your outer layer, slipping the sleeves off your shoulders and letting the durable slab of roughly woven cotton slide to the floor. Almost equally as swiftly he pops the pins holding your skirts and petticoat tightly around the corset, pooling at your feet, leaving only the offending clothing squeezing your ribs, your pantalettes, and fine linen chemise.

You can’t hide the lewd moan that escapes your lips as Felix presses open the metal release hooks at your front, pinched flesh screaming in delight at the sudden freedom.

“...and that’s why we make the decisions for the kingdom. We know better than our own subjects.” Felix purrs in your ear.

Goosebumps rise on the backs of your arms as you close them across your chest in a lame attempt to keep some modesty. Their consistent gaze heats your insides to jelly. You wish that you owned anything prettier than this to present yourself in. Something silk like the noble ladies or at least lace embroidered like the more well off ilk.

“Felix, are you frightening our darling?”

“Darling, am I scary? Do I scare you? You can be honest with us.”

Panic clenches your abdomen. “No!” You blurt. “You don’t-I’m not scared.” As per your training, you must stay resolute. The answer seems to please them, sharing a small smile and glance at each other.

Hyunjin’s tone remains soft, floating like a melody. “You must know, as you’ve been trained to be so exemplary, that it is my birthday soon. A very special day for all the kingdom and of course for myself. Now, I hadn’t thought of what I might ask for…” he trails off. “Come closer, girl.”

Dutifully you step almost toe to toe with him, Felix returning to his seat to observe. Both wearing the smiles of cats that caught the mouse.

“What do you remember about your prince’s birthdays?”

Straightening up a little you recite, “as we are blessed with two beautiful princes we celebrate each twice. Although they were born separately they are celebrated jointly as the rising of the spring and the beginning of the fall.”

Hyunjin claps his hands, “and! What of our presents?”

“Two of a kind as with all things that can be made twice.”

“Oh she is perfect! Isn’t she, Felix?” Hyunjins hand reaches out to play with the hem of your chamise, pinching and bunching the fabric in his fingers. His eyes flit suddenly up from the hem to you, “I want you for my birthday.”

You can’t control your facial expression, eyes widening and jaw going slack. Breath growing fast and shallow your hand grasps the fabric covering your chest. “Sir, I’m not sure what you mean. I’m already yours as I have been taught and trained to be, I belong to the crown, the throne-”

Of course you knew what he meant. There had been other boys who’d shown interest. Other boys you were interested in. The concept was not new to you. Something about him though, made it unbelievable that he could mean what you thought.

“Your duty is to the crown and the throne. I don’t want that. I want you, I want your body, and I want your affection.” He drew the hem to his lips, kissing the garment like a lord might kiss a ladies hand. “Now hike up your gown and let me have my present.”

Fluttering stomach, fingers trembling, you slowly tug the fabric into your fists, exposing the white legs of your pantalettes, conjoined at the top by a drawn string threaded through both halves. You’ve never seen hyunjin like this, slouched in his throne, legs spread wide. He watches you, palming himself over his breeches.

“Hyunjin, she’s shivering already!” Felix raises his eyebrow. “Are you okay darling? Tell your princes what you need.”

“I’m-I don’t-I’m not sure-” you stutter out, keenly aware of the spotlight on you.

“Please help our darling out, should you wish. She’s your present too after all,” Hyunjin addresses Felix, eyes still fixated on you. They don’t move as you feel Felix’s presence hovering behind you, his hands slowly smoothing your gathered bunches of fabric into one knot held tightly in his fist to your side. Your heart thuds in your chest and echos between your thighs. Lust clouds your judgment like the hazy heat that rolls off of his body. His unoccupied hand slips into the slit in your pantalettes, tracing your folds with the pads of his fingers.

Gasp caught in your throat your veins feel like they’ve been lit on fire.

“Our darling is so responsive, Hyune. You’re going to love her. Cunt’s already dripping.”

“Show me.” Hyunjin demands. Felix tugs on the drawstring, pantalettes swiftly tumbling to the ground.

“Put your knees on the arms of his throne, love. I’ll hold you close still, don’t worry,” Felix whispers assurances in your ear as you shakily spread your legs wide to match the width of the sturdy, thick armrests. Stepping between Hyunjin’s legs to join you, he encourages you to lean back into his chest, angling your pelvis to present lewdly forward, hands grappling backwards to your own ankles.

Hyunjin’s eye’s rake over every inch of exposed flesh, joined by eager fingertips. He’s careful not to venture too close to your sex, opting to leave anticipatory prickles in his lazy path up and down your thighs. Your hips rise to meet him each time, assuming that he had to have grown impatient by then. No man you’d ever met was patient for very long for any reason, so why should a prince be any different? Still as much as your body seemed to long for his touch to advance he resisted, smiling as you exhaled with a disappointed “hmph.”

“Really doesn’t take too much, does it darling? Just the proper, or improper, touch.” Hyunjin states, finally slipping a finger between your lips, gliding it back and forth, just teasing your entrance.

You sink into the motion with a gentle “oh” hardly noticing as Felix slips his unoccupied hand beneath your chamise, soft palm kneading your bosom in handfuls. “Just relax,” he continues to whisper, silky tone weaving through your cotton-y brain. “Let us take care of you. You’re capable of so much pleasure, if you just let us rule you. You can do that, right darling? You’re such a good little servant. So perfectly trained. You know how to be a good girl and take orders. It’s your duty after all, to serve us.”  The tapestry he knits with his words is an enticing one, laced with golden promises.

Your thighs threaten to collapse inwards with each nudge of your clit. Each denial becomes almost painful, your body clenching inwards to try to force yourself over the edge. Eyelids fluttering over the whites of your rolled-back eyes you beg under your breath, beg for release, beg for something to clench down on.

“Louder. Let your Prince hear what you need,” Felix hisses.

“Please, sir, it hurts. I need - so badly. I need to - I might die. I need you-”

“What do you need from me?”

“I need you inside-” your voice breaks, the words too dirty to dare utter in front of them. “Sir, I need you inside me.”

“Be more specific.”

“Fingers!” You gasp and groan as Felix pinches your pebbled nipple. “Please use them in me, sir! Please! Please.” You chant as he continues to rub his thumb back and forth over the tingling area. Every touch feels like looking over the edge of the castle wall to the turf below, churning the pit of your stomach.

Hyunjin tuts, leaning upwards, face inches from your mound. Breath held as his finger passes again over your hole, you whimper. Tongue pointed he kitten licks your swollen button before sealing his mouth over your mound. Licking and sucking at you, the persistent attention from his swirling muscle has your eyelids fluttering and hips grinding down on him, juices dripping down his chin. Your cunt pulls his finger in with each flutter of its walls, happy to have even this much to clench down on.

The arousal pooling in your gut, your body arches up, head pressing into Felix even harder and you flood the man below with your essence. Each pulse of your cunt forces a twitch from your flexed muscles as he releases you, tongue flat to eagerly lap at your core.

Hyunjin looks pleased as he pants, withdrawing from your netherregion, lips pink and plush from their hard work. “This is why we royalty come up with the solutions.”

“Yes! My Princes know how to take care of me. Thank you sir. Thank you for your care.” You cry and shake, giving your full weight plus some to Felix as you convulse with aftershocks.

Hyunjin motions for Felix to lift you gently off the armrests, letting you curl and rest at his feet. “Set your head here, darling, let me show you how good you taste,” he taps his knee, leaning forward to kiss you as you come near, lips still shining with your release. The taste is faint, his own scent almost overwhelming your senses, but not unpleasant. Gently his tongue presses at your lips, seeking permission. Swept into the moment you grant it easily, letting him explore your mouth, licking into the warmth just as he had your cunt.

As your kiss becomes more desperate, Hyunjin pulls you over him, your torso stretched over his thighs, ass stuck out into the room. You yelp into his mouth as another wriggling tongue swipes over your slit.

“She’s so sweet, no wonder you took your time with her,” Felix murmurs, drifting off as he indulges in another swipe.

“Felix,” Hyunjin breaks from you, strand of spit spanning the distance from your already fucked-out face. “I think she’s ready enough, we don’t want to break our present quite yet.” His face doubles and swims in front of you as your eyes fight to focus. Hyunjin chuckles affectionately as you stare back at him dumbly. “Darling, he’s going to fuck you now. You might want to brace yourself.” Gently he cups your head and lays your cheek to his thigh, mouth watering bulge twitching and straining against his breeches right in front of you. Forgetting yourself for a moment, you trace the print in the fabric with your forefinger. “So cute,” he coos, gently removing your hand, “but I didn’t say you could do that.”

“‘M sorry sir. I-” your thought is interrupted by the blunt tip of Felix’s cock sliding between your folds. Hand gripping Hyunjins thigh in anticipation, you wiggle your hips as Hyunjin pushes your hair away from your face to get an unobstructed view.

“Go ahead Felix, take her.”

Palm flat on your lower back he pushes into you to the hilt in one smooth motion. Your facial expressions and groans do not disappoint, eyes rolling back to the whites. The stretch is more pressure than pain, your slick easing him in with the prep work Hyunjin did to open you up.

“She’s a tight little thing,” Felix pulls back leaving only the flared tip inside of you, reveling in the way your lips hug around him as he fills you. “Every time I try to pull out she just pulls me right back in.”

Popping the front of his breeches free, Hyunjins cock springs out in front of you. It’s paradoxically thick in comparison to him curving up to his waistband, tip already glossy with smeared precum. “Give it a little taste, darling,” he says, parting your lips with his thumb, encouraging your jaw to open even further, pad petting your tongue. Tapping the head against your flattened tongue he seems pleased with the ease of your obedience. He tastes slightly salty and musky as you twirl your tongue around him. “Good girl, go ahead and wrap that little pout around me. Just like a sweet, just like that,” he holds your head steady to his thigh as he shallowly fucks into your mouth. He can’t get much depth at this angle but the vibrations from your moans and blissed out expression make up for it. Both men take up the responsibility of ragdolling you between them, Felix pulling by your hips as Hyunjin thrusts forward into your mouth, one in, one out.

Each prince sounds unique in his pleasure. Hyunjin caught in whines and hisses in tenor while Felix groans and grunts in his low baritone. Their styles of loving are also a study in contrast, Felix’s hands roaming everywhere, squeezing and squishing and massaging. Like a sculptor working putty into a masterwork. Hyunjin prefers pointed attacks and intense stares. Busy wandering the scene with his eyes. Watching the light play over your fingers as they twitch and tremor with each thrust. The shadow of the hollow of your cheek as his cock pulls from your lips. Even your eyelashes, clumped with aborted tears, sticking to your cheek for a millisecond with every flutter.

“‘M close.” Felix warns, pulling from you with a pop.

“No,” you whine and wiggle, searching after him desperately. Both men laugh.

“Turning our cute shy thing into a cockwhore in one round, I’ve got to say I’m proud.” Hyunjin also pulls from you, leaving you unoccupied for the first time in the last twenty minutes.

Unsure of what to do with yourself you nuzzle his thigh wordlessly. Sweat and juices trailing down your inner thighs your stomach hungers for more. Frustration boiling and bubbling in your chest you wiggle your hips again in hops it entices Felix back.

“You’re just so helpless without us aren’t you?” Hyunjin’s voice returns to its calm caressing tone. “Don’t worry darling, you’ll be filled soon. Do you want to come sit on me now? Would that feel good?”

You scramble into the throne, straddling the prince like an overeager mutt totally unaware that it is no longer a puppy. Even panting with your tongue out, nearly begging as your slit slides along his strained member.

“Felix, did you not fuck her hard enough? She’s practically wetting the seat with how needy she is. Humping me like a bunny in heat. Gotta make her cum harder next time so she’s nice and pliant.”

“Jeeze, you’re the one who said not to break your new toy,” Felix’s voice echos from the other end of the room. “Should be thanking me for having her so wound up.”

You whine as you rub yourself on him. Cunt aching to be filled again, your fingers feel itchy as you deny yourself the pleasure of taking him of your own accord.

“Normally I’d punish you for trying to get yourself off without my permission but,” Hyunjin shoots a glance over your shoulder. “There was some familial miscommunication which you should not pay for.” He lifts your hips off him, dick sufficiently lubricated with a mixture of spit and precum, and fits himself just inside your entrance. “Now take me nice and slow, I want to see each inch go in easy, okay?” His eyes search for your understanding. “And if you try anything funny, I’ll make sure you’re fucked so hard that you’ll be on bedrest for the next three days.” A sudden hit of venom laces his words, driving his point home.

Thighs burning you sink slowly onto him, careful not to let gravity or exhaustion accelerate your descent. The effort has you shaking, palms pressed to the armrests with the tips of your fingers going white. He whispers small praises as he watches himself fill you. How proud he is, how well you are doing, how pretty your pussy looks taking him in, what a good cocksleeve you are. Finally, finally he leans up and pulls you to his chest, groaning as he forces the last few centimeters of himself inside.

“How do you feel darling?”

“Full, sir,” you mumble, happy to pour your weight into his arms. “Good and full.” Hands on your hips he rolls you back and forth on him, coaxing another wet release from you. It has you floating, you want to be good for him. You need to be good for him. It’s only right to worship a future king as you would a god.

Hyunjin’s hands spreading your cheeks, another warm intrusion works its way against you, slick release and additional lubrication coating your holes. A small digit swirls around the second, virgin hole, briefly pressing as a test. You jolt, pussy clamping down around Hyunjin, heartbeat climbing rapidly. “Relax, just trust us, we know best, right? Didn’t it feel so good before when Felix got you all nice and ready. He’ll be just as gentle. It’s his nature after all. Just put your head on my shoulder like a good girl and relax.”

Following his instructions you curl onto his shoulder, hands gripping his biceps. As the intrusion works its way into you, pulling back and inching forward with each thrust, you try to focus on him. His smell, his aura, his nerves of steel. His murmurs vibrate against your ear, tickling pleasantly. A second digit is added as you whimper and bury your face in his neck.

“No no, darling. I need to see your face at least a little,” Hyunjin nudges you from the warm juncture with his chin. “Especially for this next part.” He winks at Felix.

Felix who has been grunting lowly under his breath with each effort he makes to stretch you just enough. He presses the head of his cock to your twitching entrance pushing himself until just the head squeezes past the tight ring. Your face screws up cutely with the initial pain, lip quivering. Felix tries to make it more comfortable, slowly massaging your lower back as he rocks himself with your whimpers.

The pain has your head spinning while the overwhelming fullness numbs it. From clamping down around nothing to being stretched to the point where clenching would lead to misery you’ve run the gambit. As he settles a peaceful expression covers your face. Eyelids closed, brows unknit, lips just barely parted as your jaw hangs loosely.

You gurgle happily. “Is this what being with a Prince is like?”

“No darling, this is what being with a god is like.”

“I should worship you.”

“You should. But today, for being so especially precious, we will spoil you.”

Felix leans over, joining your and Hyunjins heads. “Let us treat you.” Both men start to rock opposite each other again. Their cocks are only separated by a thin wall. There isn’t much else you can do but take it, as the coo and caress and bounce you back and forth. Your body is frozen as you chase another orgasm, lower belly and tops of your thighs tensing and shaking as more arousal splashes from you and coats their skin. Everything they do to you is gentle followed by a small reminder of their ownership. A nuzzle followed by a harsh bruising suck of your skin. A loving hand massaging your ass cheek before smacking it. Somewhere between heaven and earth your mind floats in paradise.

“I can’t take any more. I really can’t. I can’t sirs.” Your eyelids are so heavy you think you might pass out. It wouldn’t be the worst thing either, to be taken into the blessed dark as your Princes have their way.

“You can, I know you can, you’re such a good girl. One more for us.” Felix mumbles in his deep bass, pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck. “Hold her for me,” he groans airily. “I’m close,”

Hyunjin’s hands move to the tops of your thighs, locking you down to his lap. “Might want to hold onto something, darling,” he gestures to the armrests as Felix leans back from you. That was all the warning you received, Felix’s hips suddenly snapping into you with a brutal pace. Your body fights itself, not sure if it should contract inwards or try to expand outwards, leaving you jittering between white knuckles and splayed palms. Words you’d only heard the stablehands shout as they shoveled flew from your mouth, much to the delight of the men inside of you.

“Keep going ‘lixie, she’s fucked. Nothing inside that pretty little head.”

Felix’s grunts turn into small high pitched whines. His sweat drips from his forehead as he wraps himself around you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Every inch of your body spasms, thighs, ass, cunt, arms, every muscle tensing and pulsing all at once, white hot. He spills into you panting and swearing.

“Better be able to hold her for me now, or are you too weak hm?” Hyunjin taunts, letting go of your thighs.

“I can-” Felix breathlessly pulls you tighter into his arms, arms crossing your chest to brace you against his chest.

Hyunjin fucks you with equal ferocity, bouncing your body up against Felix like you were made of rubber and not flesh and bone. Felix pulls your hair back, strands sticking to the drool and tears escaping from you.

“I think you broke her, Hyune.”

You gurgle dumbly, eyes blurred and mouth open.

Hyunjin doesn’t bother talking, teeth gritted, mesmerized by the scene in front of him. Looking to the heavens, face relaxed as though you could see your soul floating inches above you, a perfect subject, a perfect vessel. Your walls clamp around him fluttering and pulsing and pulling him, proof of his superiority. Even at base level your body was desperate to have his children, desperate to ensure it took. With a gasp he spilled deep within you, granting your body it’s well earned prize.

“Let ‘er go.”

Felix slips from you, letting your chest fall into Hyunjin’s arms again. “Good enough exercise for the day?”

Hyunjin nods.

“Good idea - specially asking for her - best birthday ever.”

Part II

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 9

masterpost

Having a mission changed everything. 

Tim took full advantage of his new knowledge of the holy manuals. The first rule that he took to heart was that he was meant to be armed. Of course! It made sense.

Unfortunately, he was also not meant to take any weapon onto the field that he hadn’t trained with. Tim thought hard for a while whether or not a suburban house counted as ‘in the field’, but it seemed like he should pay lip service to Batman’s rule. So he got some sharp things that seemed interesting and spent some time throwing them at a target. They kind of looked like Batarangs, but… different. 

“I don’t think bats change shape in the next ten years or so,” Tim muttered. He gave another half hearted throw. The thing dinged off the wall below his target. “So this isn’t meant to be a bat shape. Did Batman rebrand to the Birdman and no one fixed his wiki page yet? Is this a parallel universe and not my actual future?”

It occurred to him that it might be a bird because of Robin. But come on, Robins didn’t use sharp things. Robin was a child. It was irresponsible for children to use blades. 

Tim sent another thingy into the wall. It hit with the pointy end first this time and sank an inch into the wall to the right of the target. He held his breath as it wiggled for a moment. Then it went still without falling.

“Yes!” He punched the air. Thank gosh! He was getting bored with that. It was good to be done with training. It was kind of dull.

Steps one and two were finished. He had a weapon and he had trained with it. Tim went back to his list. The next technical skill set was lock picking. That was super easy and fun! Tim enjoyed the clear diagrams and explanations. There wasn’t anything to practice with, but he thought that he had the concept down handily. He grabbed a set of lockpicks for his khaki pockets. 

He needed to do a little more to understand the patterns of the target, as well as their background. Tim considered asking Jason for any information, but he probably didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t very good at googling. So he just did it. The Sausage Guy was more commonly known as Benedict Orange, a name that Tim really liked and mentally stored away to use as an alias when he was a superhero. 

Anyway. Tim figured out how old the guy was, where he’d gone to school, and a bunch of other stuff like the record of his marriage ten years ago. 

“Huh,” Tim said, brows furrowed. “I didn’t find a divorce record. But he’s single now?” Mr. Orange had accounts on a lot of dating sites. He was using his engagement photo for the profile photo, with his wife cut out.

That was weird. He tried to find the wife, but there wasn’t anything more recent than 8 years ago, when she’d announced that she was quitting her job on social media. 

…Tim had kind of a bad feeling about that. 

He put a pin in it for now, but he had a small theory at the back of his mind that started with ‘I think this guy killed his wife.’

Maybe that was how the human sausage thing started. Maybe he’d killed her on impulse and then needed a way to get rid of the body. And then maybe he’d gotten a taste for it.

Tim shuddered. Okay, okay, he was for real done thinking about this! Big yucky.

Benny Orange was an office worker with a title that Tim didn’t really understand. It seemed vague to the point of uselessness, but then again, that was office work. The relevant thing was that he got home around 6 pm, and he left at 8 am.

It was 10 in the morning. Tim could get over there and toss Benny’s home before the end of the workweek if he hurried. The manual said that you should never spend more than an hour investigating an unsecured location. It also said that you should file a report or directly inform someone of where you’d be. 

That part made Tim pause for a moment before he remembered that he’d told Jason. Jason would probably check on him when he woke up, or whatever.

Tim found an equipment belt that he could wrap around his waist twice to buckle on. He put his sharp things in it. Then he untucked his shirt, because he had tucked it in out of habit and that would make it harder to access his weapons. He frowned as he did it. It just felt wrong.

He put on his shoes and got out the door. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste if he wanted to be able to take his time, so Tim hailed a taxi to cross most of the distance this time. He was grateful that Mrs. Henderson was gone and there was no chance of seeing her. Last time had been a little bit of a disaster. Needing civilian help to get into the building was not a winning move.

He had bat-approved lockpicks this time. He went to the front door and did his best. 

It turned out that maybe he should have practiced? Tim started to sweat out in the open. It felt like someone was staring at his back. He looked at the houses around. No one was at their windows or walking outside. He started jumping whenever the tall herbs in Mr. Orange's garden swayed in the breeze. He had a lot of plants.

His hands were shaking. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He was going to get caught and in so much trouble.

When the door finally opened, Tim offered up a thanks to Bast, because he assumed the cat goddess was more likely to be pro-breaking and entering than other gods. That logic was just based off of what he knew about Catwoman, honestly. 

The first glimpse into Benedict Orange's home was disappointingly normal. He had vinyl flooring (easy to clean!), leather furniture, and a big flat TV high up on the wall. He didn’t have enough knickknacks and there was no art. There was a wood and glass case that was full of identical, unlabeled bottles with something red in it. Hot sauce? Was he a hot sauce guy?

Tim mentally reclassified Mr. Orange further down the list of ‘people I could talk to at a cocktail party.’

The place had the same layout as Mrs. Henderson’s place, just in reverse. Tim beelined to the kitchen because.. Well.

He just did.

The counter space where Mrs. Henderson had a hot water kettle, a big stand mixer, and a toaster was mostly clear here. Mr. Orange only had one piece of cooking machinery. Tim didn’t know it. He squinted at it. It was a big shiny stainless steel thing. It had a metal tray, a wheel, and like… a nozzle. When he climbed on a chair to look down, he could see there was a little tunnel tube thing where you could put stuff inside the body of the machine.

Weird. Moving on!

He checked inside the fridge. He stared for a moment of aghast silence. There was a stack of takeout containers, a bunch of seasonings in the door, and a stack of tupperware with something red in them. 

Cautiously, Tim dug one out and opened it.

“That’s raw meat,” he said, voice high. He put the box back in and then hesitated. Maybe he should be like, taking it? Or taking a sample? To see what animal it came from?

“I’ll think about it.” Tim shut the fridge a little harder than he needed to and beat feet out of the kitchen. He started checking the other rooms. He found the master bedroom. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’s restyled this since Brenda died,” Tim complained. He looked at the curtains with extreme judgment. They were so outdated it wasn’t even funny, but they also weren’t retro yet!

Oh. Wait. Belatedly, Tim remembered that it was ten years into his future. So, maybe they were retro now. Anyways, Brenda had liked the trend for chickens and roosters. There were chickens and roosters everywhere in the decor, including a cute print of what was obviously intended to be a husband and wife pair snuggling on a sofa.

His heart hurt a little. He looked at it a little too long. 

Tim took a deep breath. Then he went back to looking for evidence. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, so clearly Mr. Orange had a personal office elsewhere. There were two more rooms in the apartment.

Tim opened the next door. The room was mostly a guest bedroom, with the notable exception of a huge chest freezer and a weird long wooden bar across the room.

Tim shut the door.

The last room was the office. There was a desk, a file cabinet, and a lockbox full of women’s drivers licenses.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said under his breath. “He’s a serial killer.” He took photos and sent them to Jason immediately with the subject line “Yeah he’s a killer!!!”

Then he got down to sorting through the papers to see if there was anything else. Jason was a Robin, Tim supposed, so he’d need the evidence to show the police. It would be helpful if he just went and sorted it out now. He found warranties for the TV, the new freezer, and he presumed that ‘Meat Grinder’ meant the thing in the kitchen.

“I appreciate that he’s so organized, actually,” Tim muttered. He was hunched over digging through the bottom drawer now.

A key went into a door. 

Tim froze stock still. He slowly, silently shut the drawer. He stared at the closed door to the living room. On the other side of it, Mr. Orange unlocked and opened the front door. Tim slowly looked up, saw 12:14 on the clock, and vaguely registered that sometimes people come home on their lunch breaks.

The front door shut. There was a quiet metal sound that Tim thought was probably the chain lock. The chain lock that was too high for him to move without a chair to stand on.

Okay. Uh. He looked around for a place to hide. The best option was under the desk. Tim crawled through the legs of the chair, heart beating furiously.

He weighed his options. Wait it out and hope Mr. Orange didn’t come in?

…Seemed risky. But there was no way he was going to run out past the guy to the front door. At least, the odds that he’d get grabbed were just not good, not when he didn’t know where Mr. Orange was. 

Alright. Tim knew reality. He might not be able to get out of this on his own. At the very least, he should let Jason know what was going on so that they could add his murder to the list of charges. And maybe Jason was close by to help? Wayne Manor was awfully far away, so probably not. But it didn’t hurt to try.

He got his phone back out and was silently very glad that he had it. Jason had responded to his message. Tim didn’t take the time to read it, instead typing up a blank email with the subject line “um might need help asap :( he here”. He sent it. Then he huddled down to wait.

Noises came from the kitchen- the suction as the fridge opened. The beep of the microwave. A man’s voice saying, “What the fuck? Did I leave this here?”

His blood turned ice cold.

‘What did I do?’ Tim desperately tried to remember what he’d touched in the kitchen. Had he really moved something around? He didn’t remember anything! His heart rate went up like crazy.

The door opened. Tim flinched. His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh. No. It wasn’t this door yet. It was the door to the next room, the spare bedroom. He heard the weird squelch of the chest freezer opening. Then the closet door squeaked open. Something heavy moved around. 

“Well, it wasn’t you,” said Mr. Orange. There was a mean satisfaction in his tone. The heavy thing moved again.

Tim’s brain went a bit blank.

Who was he talking to? Was there someone in the apartment? Hidden behind something heavy?

He opened up another email. Jason hadn’t responded, so there was no way to know if he’d seen. Tim hastily typed up, “I think there’s a living hostage in the house” and sent it as the door to the office opened.

He hugged his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh gosh. Oh heck. Oh no, oh no. He bit his lower lip and broke skin.

‘No. I can’t be a baby about this.’ 

It was really hard with how stiff his fingers felt. But Tim put the phone in his pocket and wrestled the sharp bird weapon out. He held it clumsily. And he watched Mr. Orange’s feet move around the room. They walked around the room. He saw the curtains move as Mr. Orange pulled them to check no one was hiding there. Then he knew that Mr. Orange was coming to his hiding spot.

Tim swallowed. He waited until Mr. Orange’s feet were in sight. He stabbed his sharp thing down through the top of Mr. Orange’s sock.

Mr. Orange bellowed and fell back against his filing cabinet. 

Tim scrambled out and ran.

He went towards the front door on automatic and nearly got there before he looked up and saw that yes, the chain lock was on. He couldn’t reach it. 

“You little shit!” Mr. Orange bellowed. He lunged at Tim. Tim barely dodged. He jabbed at him again without looking and barreled towards the door to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. It only had a doorknob lock. He unlatched it, praying that she had not changed her ideas about the open door policy. The door handle turned.

He threw himself into the room and slammed the door shut. He clicked the little button lock.

Mr. Orange hit the door, hard. It shook. He wasn’t saying anything anymore. There was something about that which struck Tim as absolutely terrifying. Didn’t people bellow and yell when they were mad? 

He looked towards Mrs. Henderson’s door. The door shook again as Mr. Orange hit it.

Wood splintered.

If he went out Mrs. Henderson’s front door he could sprint for it. What were the odds he could outrun a grown man? If he did, wouldn’t Mr. Orange just get in his car? Potential witnesses had made Mr. Orange back off before, but he was more invested now in silencing Tim. And there was no one around. Tim had checked. 

The door splintered again. He could see Mr. Orange’s shoulder. Then a socked foot.

‘I don’t think I stabbed his foot well enough,’ some distant part of Tim’s brain catalogued. ‘He’s still moving on it. If I live past this, I’m going to commit to the next stabbing with more enthusiasm.’

He bolted for the stand where Mrs. Henderson kept her mace. He was just out of sight from Mr. Orange’s hole in the door. His heart thudded so loud. His shaking had stopped. The mace didn’t  feel heavy. 

‘If I was taller, i’d aim for the face. I can’t pull that off. I’ll aim for center mass. He may block with an arm, but theoretically his arm will be hurt enough that I’ll be able to pull back and make another swing.’

There was a catastrophic smash from inside Mr. Orange’s apartment. 

Then a “What the fuck-” that got cut off a little early. Mr. Orange sounded mad and confused. 

A thud. Two smaller thuds. A clicking. Tim wanted so badly to know what was going on. 

A hand reached through the hole in the door and unlatched the lock. 

Tim swallowed. He readied a swing. 

The door opened.

Tim took a step forward and swung Mrs. Henderson’s antique mace with maximum strength directly into the armored center mass of a guy who was NOT Mr. Orange.

“Oh my gosh,” Tim said, horrified, at the instant he connected. The guy was looking forward. He looked down too late, just as the mace hit.

There was sort of a bounce. The mace bounced back off the tummy armor without digging in or drawing blood. Half of Tim was relieved, and half was terrified that his plan had failed. 

The guy doubled over and made a sound that was a lot like GURK. He clutched at his torso with one arm and pointed a gun at Tim with the other.

Tim put his hands up.

The guy looked at Tim. Presumably. It was hard to tell through his ugly red motorcycle helmet.

“I really should have known.” 

His mechanical voice was scary.

Bad guy! 

Tim took his chances and another swing before the guy could shoot him. He expected to hear a shot as he smashed his mace again. The guy yelped and jerked backwards to avoid getting hit. Then there was a thud.

Tim peered through the door cautiously. The guy had tripped over Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange was laying on the floor facedown, arms zip tied behind his back. 

“Oh, sorry,” Tim apologized. He took a couple steps over to put the mace back away. He gave Mr. Orange a wide berth.

“I never would have guessed that the Red Hood used kids like this,” Mr. Orange said meanly. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Small, even for bait.”

The Red Hood guy pointed his gun at Mr. Orange’s head. Tim shrieked.

The Red guy stopped. He seemed to look at Tim again. He had some really bad words. “Alright.” He got back up to his feet and put the gun away.

Right. He’d probably just been joking or something. Tim belatedly registered the control it must have taken to not accidentally shoot while being attacked and falling over. 

Oh. Wait. It was a huge coincidence that a hero came right now, unless-

‘Is this Jason?’ Tim felt his eyebrows go all the way up. He wanted to ask a million questions. His mouth was firmly glued shut, though. Partly it was infosec. But it was also embarrassment.

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

The Contract

CONTRACT OF EMPLOYMENT

The following contract is made between and entered into by The Helldivers Division of the Super Earth Armed Forces (hereby referred to as "the Enlister") and the individual who has successfully completed their preliminary Helldiver training as set forth in Exhibit A of the Super Earth Armed Forces Recruitment and Retention Manual part 27/B-10264 (hereby referred to as "the Enlisted"). The following contract is entered into willingly, and the Enlisted confirms that they have authority to enter into such an agreement at this time, being of sound mind and body, of legal age, and of Citizenship Grade E or above.

1 SERVICES

1.1 The Enlisted shall perform the Services outlined in Appendix A in accordance with the operational directives identified by (i) Super Earth High Command (ii) the President of Super Earth (iii) the Democratic Council of Super Earth (iv) accredited employees of the Ministries of Super Earth (v) accredited representatives of the parties aforementioned in clauses 1.1.i - 1.1.v, (vi) accredited representatives of those representatives (hereby referred to as "the Authorized Command Structure"). The Authorized Command Structure may, at any point, with no prior notice, make amendments to the schedule of services outlined in Appendix A. A copy of Appendix A may, if required, be obtained by the Enlisted through contacting the relevant authorities in the SEAF Administrative Corps, with a hard copy of the Appendix to be delivered to the requesting Enlisted within 5-10 business years.

1.2 The Services performed by the Enlisted for the Enlister shall include, but are not limited to active combat operations (which may include, but shall not be limited to raids, deployments, invasions, sorties, forays, assaults, blitzes, incursions, onslaughts, liberations, razings, flattenings, and nukings), non-combat operations (which may include but shall not be limited to parades, interviews, signings and appearances, executions (both summary and otherwise), interplanetary transportation, including the escort of civilian or Democratic vessels, and any activities deemed necessary in the pursuit of the aims identified by (i) The Enlister, and (ii) The Authorized Command Structure. In order to enable full and complete enactment of these Services, the Enlisted is hereby authorized to employ lethal force, non-lethal force, non-lethal non-force, and lethal non-force, to be employed at the discretion of the Enlisted. The Enlisted may not subcontract in whole or in part any of the duties requested of them by the Enlister.

1.3 The Services shall be performed by the Enlisted at locations identified by (i) The Enlister (ii) The Authorized Command Structure. In order to enable the completion of the Services in an efficient and timely manner, the Enlisted will be entrusted with the command of a Class 6 "Super Destroyer" Series Crewed Interplanetary Combat Vessel (hereby referred to as "The Super Destroyer") Upon the Termination of the Contract of the Enlisted (refer to Section 5, TERMINATION), command of this Super Destroyer will be transferred to the next eligible Enlisted in the order designated by (i) the serving Ship Master, (ii) The Enlister, (iii) the Authorized Command Structure, (iv) Accredited representatives of the parties listed in clauses 1.3.i - 1.3.iii. The heirs, successors, and assigns of The Enlisted have no right, claim or interest in the ownership or command of the Super Destroyer. Should the actions of the Enlisted result in loss, damages, or impediments to the Super Destroyer, requiring ameliorative or restorative action, the cost of such repairs shall be subtracted from the Martyrdom Payment due to the heirs or successors of the Enlisted (refer to Section 2 COMPENSATION).

1.4 The Enlisted will be responsible for the purchasing, maintenance, replacement, and improvement of the equipment used for the provision of services. If the contract of the Enlisted is terminated due to the conditions outlined in Clause 5.1 (absence of pulse), the equipment purchased, maintained, replaced, and improved by the Enlisted shall stay with Destroyer, and shall be made available to the next Helldiver to command the vessel.

2 REMUNERATION

2.1 For the performance of the services outlined within the schedule set forth in Appendix A, the Helldiver shall receive monetary compensation for the services rendered. The compensation shall vary in line with the services performed. The Enlister reserves the right to, at any time and with no prior notice, make amendments to the schedule of payments.

2.2 The Enlister acknowledges that the position of the Enlisted ("Helldiver") is classified by the Super Earth Ministry of Employment as an "Exceptionally Patriotic Duty". Accordingly, upon commencement of the delivery of services, the immediate family members of the Enlisted (defined as parents, siblings, heirs, and successors) shall receive 4.5 citizenship points, to be allocated at the recipients’ discretion. This compensation shall be non-transferable, and may not be exchanged for a cash equivalent.

2.3 In the event of the non-continuation of the 'alive' status of the Enlisted in the course of the rendition of services, a Martyrdom Payment shall be made to the immediate family members of the Enlisted (defined as parents, siblings, heirs, and successors) minus any dispensations outlined in Section 1.3.

3 CONFIDENTIALITY AND CLASSIFIED MATERIALS

3.1 In the course of the rendition of services, the Enlisted is likely to become exposed to information of strategic importance (including but not limited to maps, mission briefings, internal procedural documentation, details of products, prices, and seasonal discounts). The Enlister and Enlisted agree that any and all privileged information (collectively "CLASSIFIED MATERIALS") viewed by the Enlisted (i) shall be maintained in the strictest secrecy by the Enlisted, with all reasonable efforts made to avoid the transfer, leakage, dissemination, publication, conveyance, and/or seepage of Classified Materials, and (ii) shall be provided in formats which are traceable to the Enlisted in the event of transfer, leakage, dissemination, publication, conveyance, and/or seepage. The Enlisted agrees to return any and all data, documents, directories, manuals, maps, and notes pertaining to “CLASSIFIED MATERIALS” upon (i) termination of this contract, (ii) request by the Enlister.

3.2 Any information made known to the Enlisted outside of operational parameters which is not considered customarily known to the general citizenry and/or which was not known to the Enlisted prior to the commencement of this agreement shall, for the purposes of clarity, be considered "CONTROLLED CLASSIFIED MATERIALS". For the access of "CONTROLLED CLASSIFIED MATERIALS" explicit, advance written consent must be obtained by the Enlisted.

3.3 To read these terms and conditions in full shall be considered a breach of Clause 3.2.

4 INDEMNIFICATION

4.1 Unless otherwise stated, the Enlisted shall be solely and exclusively responsible for any and all damages, harm, liability, loss, costs, expenses, craters, atrocities, and crimes (civil, uncivil, war) caused, created, or generated during the course of the rendition of services. The Enlisted hereby indemnifies (i) The Enlister, and (ii) the Authorized Command Structure, including but not limited to any employees, representatives, heirs, and successors against any costs, challenges, losses, damages, or expenses (without limitation) arising from or relating in any way to the rendition of services by the Enlisted.

4.2 Any damage sustained by the Enlisted, whether reputational or corporeal (including but not limited to incineration, evisceration, spinal separation, vaporization, crushing, freezing, burning, decapitation, paper cuts, explosion, contusion, removal of arms and/or limbs, addition of arms and/or limbs, dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath and/or death) shall not be considered the responsibility of the Enlister.

4.3 The Enlisted shall not hold the Enlister in whole or in part responsible for whether they return in whole or in part.

5 TERMINATION

This agreement will be governed by the laws of Super Earth, and shall be terminated in the event that:

(i) The Enlisted is mortally wounded, such that medical attention shall not be physically or financially justifiable.

(ii) The Enlisted expresses seditious, dangerous, or Traitorous thoughts, opinions, actions or sentiments.

(iii) By the Enlister, for any reason. Notice of the cause for termination is not required. The provisions of sections 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6 shall survive termination.

6 GENERAL PROVISIONS

6.1 The Enlisted consents to personal information (including but not limited to Biometric, Patriotic, and Demographic data) to be collected and processed by (i) the Enlister (ii) The Authorized Command Structure (iii) Appropriate agents of the Super Earth Armed Forces and Democratic Council.

6.2 The Enlisted consents to personal samples (including but not limited to flesh, bone, and blood) to be collected and processed by (i) the Enlister (ii) The Authorized Command Structure (iii) Appropriate agents of the Super Earth Armed Forces and Democratic Council.

6.3 The Enlisted provides unequivocal and irrevocable consent to the use of experimental weaponries, technologies, and narcotics.

6.4 The Contract shall be considered binding upon being read, in whole or in part.

(For the purpose of the elimination of doubt, the Enlisted spending 1 second within 15 meters of a copy of the contract shall be interpreted as the contract being read.)

[woman-in-gem]

Please stop commissioning new dolls.

I'm not saying this because I think everything shaped like a person is a person.

I'm not saying this out of any rejection for the practice itself, nor any disrespect for their artisans.

I'm not saying this because of horror stories. (Dolls are empty vessels in an ontological sense. If someone pours poison in a cup and drinks it, the last thing I'd blame is the cup.)

It's because you will find a dozen perfectly serviceable ones at the shelter and very very likely a couple others at a nearby church. That's to say nothing of craigslist.

You can even check your local dumpster in urban areas. They love these cramped enclosures — no exposed flesh for bugs to bite, no one accuses them of loitering, and someone comes at a scheduled time to bring them a deeper stillness. They can contort within a filth-packed bag to hide their shape, but the weight makes it obvious. You'll be lucky if you find one rather than two tangled up.

(You're not supposed to throw them out, by the way. I have no respect for people who expect their garbageman to deal with that. Sure yes, it's not going to hurt him. But would you shove a live deer in there? If yours is a one-of-a-kind, you should have planned a disposal process while creating it or otherwise received a manual.)

I understand that I'm describing a less creatively exciting process. You may have even spent a while thinking about how to specially design and train your precious little songbird. But if you were hiring a person, wouldn't you want them to have years of experience? Used is very often better.

It won't be a total blank slate for you to project on — but that just means you'll get to see unique emergent patterns. Remember that innocence isn't goodness, and purity definitely isn't.

You are an adult witch that lives on a finite planet, and that means we need to be sustainable. Centuries before the first human formalization of entropy it was written in the Poetry of Gales: "An object in stillness will decay to perfect stillness." But that law is only inescapably true in a vacuum, and Earth doesn't have to be a vacuum.

I promise that it's not beneath you. Take one such object in stillness, and be what stays its decay.

[sumikatt]

a generative AI workflow for art that can't reasonably be detected as "AI use"

before we start:

I am an artist with original art in my art tag dating back to 2017

I think intellectual property is a farce and i hate copyright

I don't think image scraping and using it as training data is stealing, the same way I don't think piracy is stealing

I have used my own laptop hardware for these image generations, not any online service

Images are not described, apologies

Step 1: Concept (txt2img)

Let's do a basic edgy fallen angel character as our example. The prompt was something like "fullbody edgy fallen angel, short hair wearing leather vest, chain accessory, broken halo, wings"

Model used: Counterfeit v3.0

Model used: Flat 2D Animerge v4.5

Step 2: Pick and choose parts, then trace

Since I've traced over a completely new image, it is impossible to detect that I've used generative AI at all. It can't be reverse-searched. For all intents and purposes, this is "original artwork by a human".

You can stop here, but I wanted to toss it back in to see what I'd get.

Step 3: img2img generation

I've added a dark background and an outline to the boots for clearer separation of character and background. This generation was done with a high CFG (guidance scale).

For reference, here's high CFG to lower CFG from left to right.

Step 4: Upscale and paintover

Obviously, these aren't flawless images. So we'll paint over some parts manually until it becomes "human art"

I only did the face for brevity's sake. I've fixed lighting, flattened out the noise, fixed her vest, and overall tried to make it more consistent. Direct paintover is a harder to execute, but it is completely possible to cover all "tells".

It's not my best work as I'm not that experienced with anime style illustration, but it will pass a general AI sniff check (using sightengine).

for comparison, here's some of my other original paintings.

Closing thoughts

You'll never really be able to actually 100% identify any art as AI generated or assisted, unless you're literally watching an artist over their shoulder. Models are only getting better at generation. Generative AI is just a Pinterest replacement in terms of art tools, really. Harassing artists and fearmongering about the use of AI is stupid and reactionary. You can still enjoy art even if it's generated.

The end

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Nine

Words: 5k

Joel leaves Shauna to race to the mess hall, trying to prevent an attack that will obliterate half of Jackson. You keep Ellie safe while Joel is out for blood. Tommy has his suspicions.

Chapter warnings: Angst, again. Slow burn. Joel continues to be bad at feelings.

A/N: Thank you again for your support of this series. It's putting the slow in slow burn, but these two idiots just refuse to give any ground. Joel is starting to soften, slowly, but will Teach let him in?

Eight | Series Masterlist

Joel’s legs were moving almost completely without volition. He didn’t even hesitate, taking off towards the mess hall screaming, bellowing, over his shoulder for Shauna to run to Tommy and tell him. There wasn’t any time, there wasn’t any knowing how much time there was, but there were families in that mess hall, there were some of the town’s best men and women and their children and he was going to make damn fuckin’ sure not you. Not Ellie. Not you.

He could feel his breath coming in hard and sharp, the comparatively warm night air doing absolutely nothing to stop his lungs feeling as though they were shredding right there in his chest. He was stumbling, must have looked completely mad, as he ran to the centre of town. Shauna had said the gas line ran over the street. In rebuilding Jackson with next to no equipment they wouldn’t have been able to pull up the concrete to bury it, not with the little tools they’d had. It would have made sense to install all the services above ground without a digger to get them under, but now they were just exposed. Jackson had been built on a fuckin’ fuse and he’d stood at the gates while the guys with the match marched right past him.

Jesus, he’d failed. Again, he had failed. If that mess hall went up before he got there he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to live with himself, knew in his heart he would have to take himself off to a mountain somewhere and let the elements have their way with him. Walk into a horde of clickers. It would be fair and it would be just in this lawless, gnashing world.

Breath coming in too fast to catch it, pulse too hard to hear anything else he rounded onto the main street, bellowing at the top of his lungs to clear the area, waving with his hands over his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tommy running from the other direction, his eyes wild, raising his own hands over his head and bellowing a warning when he saw what Joel was doing. A few other men appeared on Joel’s periphery, confused but on alert regardless, and he screamed to them as he ran past ‘MESS HALL. GONNA GO UP. GET ‘EM OUT. GET ‘EM ALL OUT.’

He was dimly aware of people staring at him, gaping at him as he streamed past. He yelled in their faces to get clear, having to restrain himself from physically pushing them out of the way as he wrenched open the door to the mess hall just as Tommy appeared at the bottom of the steps.

It was all just pure instinct. He’d never been a fire warden, had done safety training for the job sites more than twenty years ago. Didn’t need instructions or a manual, just stood in the doorway as the hall fell silent around him, cupped his hands over his mouth and screamed ‘OUT OUT OUT’.

Tommy pulled him aside, gesturing people to the door now that Joel wasn’t obstructing it anymore, and later when Joel had the wherewithal he’d curse himself for being so stupid as to block the only exit he was screaming at people to use.

The place emptied in minutes. Town Council had a thing about practicing drills: clickers, raiders, fires and floods. Being the only safe haven at the end of the world a fair amount of effort went into preparing for disaster, and everyone was assembled at the muster point by the gate within minutes. Maria was busy doing her headcount.

Out the front of the mess hall Tommy held Joel by his trembling shoulder as he relayed to his younger brother everything that Shauna had said. Tommy sent a bunch of men under the floor to check the foundations, ran his own eye up the gas line because he didn’t trust any of the men, got Joel to do it too when he was done shaking. Whatever Steve and Wren had been planning they hadn’t pulled it off yet. There was still time. Joel felt himself exhale for the first time in an hour.

Over Tommy’s shoulder he saw the townsfolk of Jackson lined up along the street at a safe distance. Moms holding their babies to their chests, husbands with their arms over their wives’ shoulders. He saw you in the crowd, your hand held fast in Ellie’s, and he felt something settle in his chest as his girls watched him work. His girls.

Not his girls.

But in that first moment, before his legs had taken him in the direction of the mess hall, he’d fought a traitorous urge to turn around, head back to your place, pack you and Ellie up in blankets and hunker down with you in your bedroom, let the whole fuckin’ place burn to the ground around him so long as he had you both safe.

He blinked. There was fury bubbling in his belly, he could feel the fire rising up his sternum as he tried to swallow it down.

‘Where they at, Tommy?’ he grunted, his brother having already been anticipating that this would be Joel’s next move, once he was confident the town was safe.

‘Sent Guillaume and a few of the boys to round ‘em up,’ Tommy said, hoping this would be enough for Joel and knowing it wouldn’t be.

‘Gollum?’ Joel said, almost spitting the name in disdain. ‘That fuckhead’s the reason we in this mess. I bet you my life they were the ones skulkin’ around out there that time I saw the tracks, I bet you anythin’ they been planning this for months and I fuckin’ told Golllum…’

‘Ok, easy, easy,’ Tommy said, raising his hands, watching the heat blooming on his brother’s neck. ‘I know, Joel, but we got a proper process.’

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes, clenching his fists. He was spitting acid now, the left-over adrenaline mixing with bile and misery. ‘We’re a civilisation, Joel,’ Tommy said, almost pleading with him to see some kind of reason. ‘That means we gotta be civil.’

‘I’ll be real civil with ‘em, brother,’ Joel said, his voice low and heavy and full of venom. ‘F’they behave themselves I might even make it quick.’

‘Joel, enough,’ Tommy said. ‘This ain’t…this is for Town Council-’

‘The HELL IT IS’ Joel bellowed, the people still milling around on the street flinching and glancing back at him. He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

‘You can’t cut me outta this, Tommy,’ he said, his turn to plead. ‘S’my family they messin’ with.’

‘All our families they messed with, Joel,’ Tommy said.

‘What you think they been doin’ to Shauna all this time?’ Joel said, and Tommy blanched a little. There wasn’t any evidence, Shauna had always implied more or less that she’d agreed to whatever it was they got up to on the side of cold mountains, but Joel knew how to push Tommy’s buttons, having spent the better half of his little brother’s youth installing them himself.

There was a shout over the hill leading down to the stables, a cry and a string of insults that, even though neither Tommy or Joel could make out the words, were nevertheless unkind.

Tommy pulled on Joel’s arm to try and hold him back, but Joel was already streaming over to the sound, his longer legs striding strong despite his older years, his eyes narrowing. Tommy knew this look. It was the look Joel got when he was ready to do anything to defend what was his. He stumbled after his brother, motioning for Maria in the hope that her cooler head might prevail.

Joel could see Wren being held between two of Guillaume’s men, his shoulder bent at what appeared to be a truly uncomfortable angle.

‘They’ve dislocated my shoulder!’ Wren screamed, looking a little green, Joel thought.

‘That’s the last of your worries,’ Tommy said, catching up to Joel and a little out of breath. ‘Wanna tell us about the mess hall?’

‘What about the mess hall?’ Wren asked, and Joel was ready, in that moment, to rip his dislocated shoulder clean from the rest of his body.

‘You fuckin’ sick piece of shit, going to blow it all up with all those kids in there, all those women. People’s fuckin’ families?’ Joel was aware he was spitting, that his face was red, that he was forcing his finger into Wren’s face, but the shock was wearing off now, and pure blind rage was seeping in where it had left, and he couldn’t stop thinking about pulling Ellie’s charred little body out of the wreckage, trying to figure if it was her by her shoes and her proximity to you.

He was going to vomit if he didn’t stop thinking about it. He steeled himself, let the world spin around his head for a moment longer before he pulled it all back into focus by sheer force of will.

‘You and Steve, you sick fucks, been planning this the whole time? When we fed and clothed ya, gave you fuckin’ jobs!’

‘Joel, easy,’ Tommy said, because he could see that Wren was near tears, that the younger man looked dumbfounded, and that dealing with 200 pounds of Miller in the form of a man-sized fist wasn’t going to get them to a resolution.

‘What are you…’ Wren was asking, but then there were more footsteps, and Steve was being dragged along the street to join the party by another of the patrol, and this time Shauna was trailing behind him, eyes wet and hands wringing in front of her. She moved straight to Maria, who wrapped her up in her arms.

‘Just fuckin’ confess to it so we can get down to the punishment,’ Joel was saying, even as Tommy was trying to pull him back so that the Council could form a proper impromptu trial.

‘We didn’t do fuckin’ nothing,’ Steve said, because he was quicker on the uptake it seemed. ‘Whatever she’s said to you it’s fucking bullshit.’

Joel looked at Shauna, who was starting to sob.

‘They said if I said anything they’d kill me,’ she said, eyes on the ground as Maria practically held her up. ‘They said I had to do it, I had to get the plans, I’m so sorry,’ she said.

Wren was shaking his head at her, panic on his features, but Joel was too far gone to notice or care, too interested instead in punching his features through to the other side of his skull.

‘But I couldn’t let them hurt the kids,’ she stuttered, turning her eyes to Joel now, who held her in his gaze. He could feel some of the fury ebbing away at the sight of her so distraught. Could feel a kind of inevitability settling in over his bones, a sadness and an understanding of what had to be done.

‘You fuckin’ lying whore!’ Steve screamed at her, his neck straining from the force of it. Shauna shuddered and took a step back and Joel found himself moving over to her, taking the other side from Maria to help hold her up, as Shauna transferred to his shoulder and buried her face into his neck.

‘You don’t talk about the women of Jackson that way,’ Tommy was saying as Maria nodded her head. Robert, who had been watching the proceedings and taking it all in, pulled Tommy, Maria and a few of the other Councillors aside.

In the silence, Shauna continued to whimper, reaching up to hold firm to the front of Joel’s shirt. He could feel his heartbeat settling, could feel the ache as he breathed over scorched lungs. ‘I’m so scared, Joel,’ Shauna whispered to him, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.

‘I know, I gotcha,’ he said, as he wrapped both arms around her shivering form. He cast a glance at Wren, who was staring at the ground unable to move with his shoulder sustaining what Joel now saw was likely a bad break, and then at Steve, who was watching Shauna with a cold intensity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

‘Get your fuckin’ eyes off her,’ he hissed, and Steve, instead, raised his eyes to him.

He started to shake his head, slowly. ‘You cunt-struck fool,’ he said to Joel, almost with pity. If he hadn’t been holding Shauna up, Joel would have knocked him out then and there.

Robert cleared his throat, the conference apparently over.

‘For conspiring against the town of Jackson and its citizens, you are banished,’ he said, simply and quickly. Efficient and without fanfare.

‘That’s it?’ Joel said, sputtering. ‘They could still get back in here, the fuckers know the place like the back of their hands. They’ve got plans.’

Shauna whimpered again a little in his arms. No thanks to you, Joel thought, and then felt bad about it.

Robert continued to address the men. ‘Tomorrow morning you will be taken on horseback to a destination two and a half hours ride from here. You will be dropped off with no supplies or weapons. You will not return. Should you attempt to darken our gates again you will be shot on sight. Do you understand?’

‘Just shoot us now, you fuckin’ cowards,’ Steve said, the fight receding from him so that now he was just sort of swaying in the arms of the men. ‘Don’t just let a clicker do it.’

‘The Town Council’s decision is final. You will be placed in remand until the morning. We will ride out at dawn.’

Robert nodded to his councillors and to Joel and strode off. Joel was angry but he had to admire Robert’s composure. He considered, not for the first time, that Robert was exactly the man for the job he held.

Guillaume and his men dragged Steve and Wren away. Wren was gently weeping, his legs not working so well anymore now that he was almost bent double from the pain. Shauna didn’t lift her head from Joel’s chest to watch them go. She stayed, practically glued to his hip, until Joel had no other choice but to take her home.

--

You’d seen the look on Joel’s face, had ushered Ellie under your arm and away from the crowd before she had to see him rip those two men apart with his teeth. He was furious, like an adder poised to strike, while Tommy stood beside him and tried to keep a level head. Rumours were already swirling about what had happened at the mess hall by the time you turned up your street with Ellie behind you, and you blocked them out. The truth would become apparent whether you got caught up in the eddying flow of it.

Your main concern was just Ellie. You did the only thing you could think to do with a stressed-out teenager in your house: you fed her. Standing at the bench with her peeling potatoes the two of you discussed absolutely nothing at all – what air conditioning used to feel like, how loud planes were in the sky, what it was like to go to the mall and spend the whole afternoon just looking at clothes – knowing that Joel would come for her.

After a long silence, while you lay the potato slices down in a pan and poured cheese over the top to bake, Ellie finally spoke.

‘Was he a bad man?’ she asked you, and you sighed.

‘I don’t know, I didn’t know him all that well.’

Ellie looked at you sharply, surprise on her features.

‘What do you mean? You’ve spent nearly every day with us.’

You felt the thud of realisation in your chest. Joel. Was Joel a bad man.

‘Ellie, why do you ask that?’ you questioned, but she turned away from you, her shoulders rounding over. You watched as she tugged on her long sleeves, even in the heat of the kitchen.

‘He gets that look…’ she said, and you found yourself nodding.

‘He would never hurt you, or people he cared about. That looked to me like a man fighting to keep his family safe.’

‘Which family?’ she asked. You put the tray gently on the bench, to take a moment, to steady yourself.

‘Ellie…’ you started, but there was the sound of the front door opening, and heavy footfalls in the hall. Ellie was already moving towards him.

‘Ellie!’ he was calling, booming into the quiet of your house.

‘In here!’ she called back, and they met in the doorway, nearly toppling over with the force in which they collided into each other, Joel holding her fast to his chest.

‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’ he was saying, and she was shaking her head. He pulled her away from him, cradling her head in both of his hands as he studied her, from her scalp to her toes. ‘Nothin’? Nothin’?’ he asked again, and she stilled in his hands.

‘What was that, Joel?’ she asked, and you watched as his eyes slid closed, pulling her into his body again.

‘Nothin’ babygirl, it was nothin’.’ He muttered.

You swallowed harshly, something thick and hot in your throat suddenly making it hard to breathe. He finally noticed you, his brown eyes snapping to yours as you watched him cradle his daughter.

‘You alright?’ he asked you, genuine concern written over his face.

You nodded. ‘We did just fine,’ you said, quietly, but he shook his head in response.

‘No, you,’ he clarified. You weren’t sure if you were alright, actually. Weren’t sure if you could instruct every cell in your body to stop screaming for him to reach out for you, grasp your wrist so gentle in his hand and pull you into his chest to stand by Ellie, your nose tucked in under his jaw and feeling the heat of his pulse there on your skin.

You exhaled, slowly, steeled yourself. It hadn’t been anything, and it wouldn’t be. You nodded your head at him, not trusting your own voice under the strain of the moment.

He seemed satisfied, his eyes gently closing again as Ellie wriggled out from under his arms, straightening her shirt and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, trying to hide it by turning away from you both.

‘What’s gonna happen to them?’ she asked, and he sighed.

‘They’re gettin’ kicked out,’ he said, and you watched the anger bloom over her face.

‘That’s it?’ she asked, her voice rising as she worked herself up. ‘That’s bullshit! They nearly killed like 50 people!’

‘Easy,’ Joel said, raising his hands. You watched as his brows saddled.

‘Ellie, come help me set the table,’ you said, trying to divert her. She was still caught up in the indignation of it, though, like all teenagers when faced with an injustice.

‘That’s crap though, they shouldn’t be allowed to live!’

It jarred you for a second, a teenager calling for the death penalty, and you wondered for the first time in a while what the world had become. Such that it was, such that it would ever be again.

‘Enough,’ Joel said, quiet but deadly, and Ellie jutted out her lower lip, but stopped. You could see a well-worn dynamic playing out in front of you. You felt out of place in the middle of it.

‘We oughta get goin’,’ he said to her, and he looked exhausted all of a sudden, far older than his years.

‘We made dinner,’ Ellie said, angry and pouty still.

‘I won’t eat all this, I can bring some around,’ you offered, and realised you had already betrayed her, that you were supposed to campaign for them to stay. You faltered, looking between her and Joel. Did you want them to stay? Was it a good idea? To even offer? ‘Unless you…’

‘We’ve imposed enough on Teach tonight,’ Joel said, not looking at you, and you felt the sting of the rejection even though you had been expecting it, had been reminding yourself not to hope for any different.

Ellie stomped down the hall, and you heard your door swing open so hard you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wrenched it free. Joel looked at his feet, his eyes only ever flitting in your direction, his face pink.

‘You doin’ alright?’ he asked.

‘Nothing for you to feel guilty about, Joel,’ you said, quickly, and he sighed. You watched him flex his fingers once, twice, on his left hand. He pulled it up to his chest and rested it over his heart.

‘-nk you for still seein’ her,’ he said, and you shrugged.

‘I care about her, Joel. More than I care about you. Or me.’

He nodded. He knew it was true, he had always known it, and he knew he had used it against you when it suited him, when it meant he could wonder closer to you, when he could feel the heat of you gentle on his skin.

‘M’sorry…’ he started, but Ellie was calling for him from the front porch.

‘We goin’ old man OR WHAT?’ she yelled. You hid a little smirk, which Joel returned. Suddenly you were both shy, but some of the weight had shifted. You stood firmer on your two feet.

‘G’bye Joel,’ you said. ‘I can bring some of this around if you need me to…’

‘Shauna’s cookin’,’ he said, without thinking, and then suddenly thinking too much when he looked up and saw the look of shock pass over your face.

‘Oh…’ you said.

‘She ain’t good at it…’ he tried, to see if he could get the lightness back, to see if he could get you to smile. He could get through it if he just got you to smile.

You felt yourself falter. You hated it, hated the feeling and yourself for letting yourself feel it, for putting yourself in the position to.

Joel stared at you, helpless and deflating. The back of his neck ached from tension, his hands still tremoring from the adrenaline, from the fury.

‘Y’know you’re welcome over anytime,’ he said, because you were suddenly so still, your breath so light he could barely see your chest rise and fall, and he hated the idea of you over here alone, hated the idea of you missing your family, your friends, Ellie and maybe even him a little bit, if he still deserved it. He coughed, clearing his throat, trying hard to ignore the sound of Ellie pacing on your front porch. ‘I know I don’t deserve any more of your time, and I ain’t askin’ for it, I just…’

You watched as he seemed unable to decide what to do with his hands, digging them into his pockets, pulling them out again to rest on his hips, crossing them over his chest. You watched his hands because it was easier than looking at his face, easier than having to look him in the eyes while he actively, outwardly pitied you.

‘You know I had a life here before you got here, Joel,’ you said, your voice clear and unwavering. ‘You know I was here a long while before you? Don’t look at me some lost little puppy now that you’ve decided not to play with me anymore. I have a job and…friends and…enough memories of a family that loved me to fuel me ‘til my last sunset. I miss them and I love them but I’m not sad, Joel.’

You lifted the pan of potatoes and slammed them, a little more forcefully than you intended, into the oven. ‘Go home to Shauna, whatever she’s cooked up for you. You do what you need to do, Joel.’

He cared about you, he knew it then by the way he wanted to wrap you in his arms and kiss you until dawn even while you told him off. By the way he would let you yell at him every minute for the rest of his days if it just meant you were talking to him, if it meant you got firey and animated and more yourself.

He knew you were shooing him away. And he would go, in just a minute. ‘I ain’t sorry for it,’ he said, when you looked like you might have been ready to listen. ‘M’sorry for how I treated ya, for how I reacted when…everything changed. But I ain’t sorry for kissin’ ya, and I ain’t sorry for that…’ he gestured to the couch over his shoulder, and you resolutely didn’t look where he was pointing. ‘I’d do that every day of the week, sweet girl, if it weren’t for how things are…and if I thought for any second y’might let me.’

He came forward and you stood, hypnotised, unable to step back even as he lifted his hands and cradled your head in them, just as he had minutes ago with Ellie, just as you had wished, quietly, and only so that Rose could hear, that he would hold you the same.

‘I regret nothin’ about you, only how I handled it, and for that I’ll be sorry for the rest of my time.’ He stared into your eyes, not wavering until he could see that you had understood, that you had heard him. You felt tears threatening, and you were so fucking sick of crying over this man, but right then you wanted him to kiss you even though you knew, for all the heat of his gaze, he was really saying he never would again.

‘Enough now…’ you said, taking his hands from your face and settling them back down at his sides. He nodded.

‘I know, baby,’ he said, quiet as he leant forward anyway and rested his forehead on yours. ‘Enough,’ he agreed, his words mingling with the hot tears on your cheeks.

--

Joel stood next to Robert, Tommy and Billy at the gate. He watched, closely, as Steve and Wren were dragged into their saddles, their arms still tied behind their backs. Wren had gone eerily quiet, apparently having passed out in the night from the pain, and he looked sweaty and pale now. Joel knew that sending him beyond the gates in this state was a death sentence, but he was finding it hard to care. His mind kept turning time back to the moment Shauna’s words hit him – mess hall, gas line – and the way he had immediately thought of Ellie, and of you. He would kill these two men a thousand times over if it meant he never had to feel that again. He was getting too old for it. He couldn’t bear a new way to fail his girls.

Not his girls.

Shauna had stayed, tucked up in his bed while Joel offered to take the couch, and he rubbed at the crick in his neck now as a result. There wasn’t fanfare, just the creak of the opening gates as Guillaume and his men rounded on them.

‘Follow the river, two-three hours West, there’s some mountain ranges, some rapids. They won’t get back,’ Billy instructed, and Guillaume nodded. Steve glared at Joel from the saddle. He stared, impassively, back.

‘Town’s a shithole anyway,’ Steve said, and Joel grinned at him.

‘Yeah, but this shithole still ain’t yours,’ he replied, because he couldn’t help himself.

The horses took off, Billy pulling the gate closed behind them. Joel stood watch until the sound of the hooves ebbed away.

Robert tipped his hat to the brothers. Tommy turned back towards the stables, and Joel followed on his heels.

‘Thank God that’s over,’ Joel said, and Tommy clicked his jaw a little. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Don’t feel right,’ Tommy said, without elaborating. Joel felt the urge to roll his eyes, his emerging need to believe it was dealt with for a moment overpowering him, before he remembered Tommy had never dismissed him even when he came, panic stricken, believing there to be monsters beyond the gate.

‘Tell me,’ he said, and Tommy sighed.

‘The look on Wren’s face…’ Tommy started, and Joel interrupted almost immediately.

‘They were guilty as sin, course he looked…’

‘Were they, Joel? We didn’t exactly investigate. He looked…surprised? I don’t know, confused?’

‘He thought he’d done such a good job of stitchin’ up Shauna he never figured she’d tell…’ Joel reasoned. ‘He was surprised because she said somethin’, is all.’

‘He seem like the scheming sort, Joel? The kind of fuckin…mastermind…’

Joel thought back to Wren, the way he was quiet and liked tending the animals, the way he was kind of reedy, kind of skinny, in a way that was more than just about starving half to death on the side of a mountain and somewhat genetic, somewhat constitutional.

‘Steve, though…’

‘Yeah, Steve,’ Tommy agreed.

‘Nasty fucker.’

‘Mmm.’

The two brothers fell into step, and then into silence.

‘Don’t see why she’d throw ‘em under the bus, she ain’t like that.’ Joel said, answering his brother’s unspoken question.

Tommy looked up at his big brother, at the way Joel’s eyes were narrow, resolute, in the early morning light.

‘You’re probably right, it was just the heat of the moment, I guess,’ Tommy said. ‘So much happenin’ at once.’

Joel nodded at him, satisfied. They arrived at the stables, Tommy reaching for a pitchfork and handing it, without ceremony, to Joel.

‘Whatchu doin’ with that, brother?’ Joel asked, refusing to take what was offered to him.

‘Muck out,’ Tommy said, nodding at the stable floor. Joel backed away, his hands in the air.

‘No, sir, that ain’t my job.’

‘Ain’t mine either but we got our best men out there right now, who else is gonna do it?’

Wren would have done it, Joel thought. Wren probably had been doing it, quietly, for weeks.

‘C’mon big man, you ain’t afraid of dirt,’ Tommy said, goading his brother with the absolute certainty that it would work.

‘Ain’t the dirt I’m worried about,’ he said, but he was grinning now, and Tommy was grinning back at him. He reached over and took the pitchfork.

It had been a while since he’d done this kind of honest, grunt work, Joel thought. There was a kind of poetry in it. Maybe all this time things were just leading to the eventual inevitability that he would have to shovel shit.

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

@somedayheaven