John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-07-02 12:33 pm
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ph_logs2024-07-02 12:33 pm
none of my pain and woe can show through (July Catch All)
Who: John Rambo (theydrewfirstblood) & YOU! (Mostly. Couple closed starters below.)
What: July catch all for Da Hollow's Favorite Commando(TM)
When: Throughout July
Where: Baker Ranch, Temple of the Sacred Roots, Forest--all around, really
Warning(s): canon typical nonsense: war, violence, PTSD, police brutality, will continue to warn in comment subjects as I go, with extra warnings for coping with mental illness (PTSD, anxiety, depression), nothing graphic or disturbing but I know if I'm going through it, reading about it doesn't always help so take your measure and know ILU.
but my dreams, they aren't as empty (Ranch, ota)
After what happened among the cultists, learning about this eldritch bullshit...dying, coming back...
The tiny gold leaf he was clutching when he came back to himself remains in his pocket at first. He's got plans for it, and they all involve keeping the fucking thing on him at all times. He doesn't want to lose it, doesn't want to leave it laying around...doesn't want to be this irrational and paranoid about potentially letting one of the boys find it around the house.
That whole deal, the whole mess...John doesn't want it to touch them, even incidentally. He hasn't really talked about it with them, save to say that he wasn't in any shape to discuss it yet, and he's not.
But throughout the next few weeks, John can easily be found at the ranch, either by those on business or those with an open invite--or hell, those who get lost in the woods and end up on the new boundary of his property watching rabbits and hares roam free behind the specially constructed fencing. He's working hard...not to forget, but to cope with what happened.
He's also just plain working, because he wants to add a couple bedrooms to the house. Just in case.
If something else happens, if he needs to know his people are safe...he could use the extra room.
as my conscience seems to be (closed to Sigma)
Within a week of returning from...the bullshit...John's thinking of the others a lot. The ones that were there with him, the ones who had his back, the ones he was most fearful for.
He thinks of Sigma a lot. Guy's unstable, like John after a fashion, but there's something about him that reminds him so much of the colonel it hurts. It doesn't make him homesick, but gives him some of the same strange comfort he finds when he's spending time with Alex.
So he ends up dropping a note in the mail for Sigma--i just has his name, his phone number, and the offer use it if you ever need to or want to.
He also includes a date, time, and an offer to open a tab at the Oak & Iron if he's up for it.
Which is where John can be found, within about a week of the end of the cultist outing. He's at a table near the back, sewing--not fabric and thread, but leatherwork: a small pouch for the leaf that he can thread onto the cord that holds Serranai's bead.
Of course, he has no food or drink, despite Tasha's puppy dog eyes, but as he glances up again to see if Sigma's entered yet, her tiny blonde figure appears with a basket in hand, packed high with everything she could possibly hope for him to put away in a fucking week much less a night's dinner.
"I do eat, y'know." he reminds her.
"Of course, but this makes sure you eat well. Now hush, there's berries in there for Coco."
The aforementioned chicken peeks her head over the edge of the table, forcing John to grin as he sets his leatherwork aside to find Co's treat in the basket.
i have hours, only lonely (Temple, ota)
Thus far, John's communion with the goddesses has been private...but the more he learns, the more he finds himself turning to them, the more curious he gets.
So...he goes to the temple. Not a lot, but he attends a couple services, and a couple times he just goes to sit or to pray. It's nice, to sort of...do it right? Maybe. It does help, a tiny bit, to feel more like Serranai hears him when he talks to her, and if someone wants to join him in prayer or say hello after a service? He's not only open, but in a better mood for being there.
He still prefers the temple of his own making, though.
my love is vengeance that's never free (Forest/Wildcard, ota)
John does precisely that: visits his own temples to not merely pray, but reach out. He occasionally goes to the beach to give offerings to Kora: little driftwood tokens he's whittled into fish, coins, and bottles he's filled with broken shells and sea glass he collects from the sand. He'll walk along the water, toss them into the waves with a few words to her...
...and he makes his monthly pilgrimage to the depths of the forest for Serranai. He gives her his offerings, he takes his meal under the tree he thinks of hers--and he spends more than a couple of hours there, trying to draw comfort from her presence. It's probably in his head, but he feels her more strongly here. Maybe it's the memory of her, but he swears that the forest is more alive here, the animals a little tamer--the odd flower a little more colorful.
The place isn't hidden--at least not by John. Find him here, deep in meditation, walking to or from this place with an empty basket in tow and a homemade longbow slung over his shoulder--or anywhere else, doing anything else. The sky's the limit.
((and if you need a personalized starter, PM the journal or hit me up on discord--the server proper, or privately at madwomanwithabox. :D))
theydrewfirstblood) & YOU! (Mostly. Couple closed starters below.) What: July catch all for Da Hollow's Favorite Commando(TM)
When: Throughout July
Where: Baker Ranch, Temple of the Sacred Roots, Forest--all around, really
Warning(s): canon typical nonsense: war, violence, PTSD, police brutality, will continue to warn in comment subjects as I go, with extra warnings for coping with mental illness (PTSD, anxiety, depression), nothing graphic or disturbing but I know if I'm going through it, reading about it doesn't always help so take your measure and know ILU.
but my dreams, they aren't as empty (Ranch, ota)
After what happened among the cultists, learning about this eldritch bullshit...dying, coming back...
The tiny gold leaf he was clutching when he came back to himself remains in his pocket at first. He's got plans for it, and they all involve keeping the fucking thing on him at all times. He doesn't want to lose it, doesn't want to leave it laying around...doesn't want to be this irrational and paranoid about potentially letting one of the boys find it around the house.
That whole deal, the whole mess...John doesn't want it to touch them, even incidentally. He hasn't really talked about it with them, save to say that he wasn't in any shape to discuss it yet, and he's not.
But throughout the next few weeks, John can easily be found at the ranch, either by those on business or those with an open invite--or hell, those who get lost in the woods and end up on the new boundary of his property watching rabbits and hares roam free behind the specially constructed fencing. He's working hard...not to forget, but to cope with what happened.
He's also just plain working, because he wants to add a couple bedrooms to the house. Just in case.
If something else happens, if he needs to know his people are safe...he could use the extra room.
as my conscience seems to be (closed to Sigma)
Within a week of returning from...the bullshit...John's thinking of the others a lot. The ones that were there with him, the ones who had his back, the ones he was most fearful for.
He thinks of Sigma a lot. Guy's unstable, like John after a fashion, but there's something about him that reminds him so much of the colonel it hurts. It doesn't make him homesick, but gives him some of the same strange comfort he finds when he's spending time with Alex.
So he ends up dropping a note in the mail for Sigma--i just has his name, his phone number, and the offer use it if you ever need to or want to.
He also includes a date, time, and an offer to open a tab at the Oak & Iron if he's up for it.
Which is where John can be found, within about a week of the end of the cultist outing. He's at a table near the back, sewing--not fabric and thread, but leatherwork: a small pouch for the leaf that he can thread onto the cord that holds Serranai's bead.
Of course, he has no food or drink, despite Tasha's puppy dog eyes, but as he glances up again to see if Sigma's entered yet, her tiny blonde figure appears with a basket in hand, packed high with everything she could possibly hope for him to put away in a fucking week much less a night's dinner.
"I do eat, y'know." he reminds her.
"Of course, but this makes sure you eat well. Now hush, there's berries in there for Coco."
The aforementioned chicken peeks her head over the edge of the table, forcing John to grin as he sets his leatherwork aside to find Co's treat in the basket.
i have hours, only lonely (Temple, ota)
Thus far, John's communion with the goddesses has been private...but the more he learns, the more he finds himself turning to them, the more curious he gets.
So...he goes to the temple. Not a lot, but he attends a couple services, and a couple times he just goes to sit or to pray. It's nice, to sort of...do it right? Maybe. It does help, a tiny bit, to feel more like Serranai hears him when he talks to her, and if someone wants to join him in prayer or say hello after a service? He's not only open, but in a better mood for being there.
He still prefers the temple of his own making, though.
my love is vengeance that's never free (Forest/Wildcard, ota)
John does precisely that: visits his own temples to not merely pray, but reach out. He occasionally goes to the beach to give offerings to Kora: little driftwood tokens he's whittled into fish, coins, and bottles he's filled with broken shells and sea glass he collects from the sand. He'll walk along the water, toss them into the waves with a few words to her...
...and he makes his monthly pilgrimage to the depths of the forest for Serranai. He gives her his offerings, he takes his meal under the tree he thinks of hers--and he spends more than a couple of hours there, trying to draw comfort from her presence. It's probably in his head, but he feels her more strongly here. Maybe it's the memory of her, but he swears that the forest is more alive here, the animals a little tamer--the odd flower a little more colorful.
The place isn't hidden--at least not by John. Find him here, deep in meditation, walking to or from this place with an empty basket in tow and a homemade longbow slung over his shoulder--or anywhere else, doing anything else. The sky's the limit.
((and if you need a personalized starter, PM the journal or hit me up on discord--the server proper, or privately at madwomanwithabox. :D))
no subject
"Closer, yeah. Our NASA evolved into an international organization called IASA. That's who I worked with. And, sure, I won't say no if my flight suits gets me a seat." He's been in enough battles since to feel like he earned it.
"Now I gotta ask, where did you serve?"
CW: outdated offensive language re: mental illness
He keeps his mouth shut when he thinks about all the things that put the same look on his face nine times out of ten--and then Crichton asks a question that does precisely that.
John drops his gaze for an instant, then looks off to one side--not quite uncomfortable, but still ill at ease because this part is never fucking easy. It's...not as bad here, but the fear of those bad reactions still haunt him.
"Vietnam." he finally replies softly. "Couple years in the Airborne Rangers, then Special Forces got their hooks in me. Two tours in 'Nam on the record, buncha classified shit off the record--nine years total before I got discharged."
Re: CW: outdated offensive language re: mental illness
"Damn, brother. Nine years of that?"
He wants to say more, like 'I'm sorry' but he's not sure that's the right thing. Or, enough. He's heard stories. It might never be enough.
"I won't ask more if you don't want to get into it, but you got my respect."
no subject
...you got my respect.
John quickly scrubs a hand over his face when he feels his eyes start to burn, and is comforted when his fingers come away bone dry.
Thank you for getting it. Thank you for not hating me for doing my job. Thank you for appreciating the bullshit. Thank you for not making me feel like a monster because I tried to do right by my country.
None of it will come out...and none of it is enough. He just nods, clears his throat...and after a beat, smiles slightly.
"You, uh...you like venison, Crichton? I do a lot of hunting, I rigged up this homemade grill a little while ago, and I always got a few steaks on hand."
no subject
He doesn't want to make the poor guy actually cry or turn this into an awkward feels-fest, so he quickly leaps on the change of subject.
"Hell yeah, man. When it comes to meat on the grill I'm not picky. Wanna fire 'er up?"
no subject
...though that's kind of a trip. Crichton was just a kid when John came home--now he kind of knows how Hawkeye felt when John told him he was from the guy's future.
"Hop the fence, c'mon." John laughs, nudging Helga back to give Crichton room. "Say hi to Helga here--house ain't real far, but we can ride if you don't wanna make the walk. Little miss here's getting used to her tack still, but she likes to ride--don't you, hon?"
Helga leans down to sniff at John's shoulder, then bends her head towards Crichton to snuffle at his hair, then snort softly with seeming approval.
no subject
"But I've been lookin' to learn. I think I've made up my mind to join the enforcers and I'd like to be able to keep up if I need to."
He offers a hand out to Helga palm up but she's already sniffing his hair instead, so he takes a chance on stroking the side of her neck. "Hey there, girl."
no subject
Helga snorts, seemingly in agreement with a little toss of her head as John shows Crichton how to mount the horse, getting them both up in the saddle with Crichton behind John as he sets her off at a slow walk so he can move with her gait.
"See? Easy--just let yourself move with her stride, correct your position if it gets uncomfortable, keep your center of gravity. I kinda like to think of it like a barstool that moves, y'know?"
no subject
He gives Helga a few last affectionate pats before he turns to listen to the instructions for mounting. As it turns out, it isn't all that much worse than getting into a jet, except the jets don't move or shift their weight while you're trying to get in the seat.
"Yeah, all right. This ain't too bad." As long as he doesn't lean too hard on his nuts. "You know, that's a good way to look at it. Bar stool that moves. Okay, I can work with that."
He does seem to be picking it u all right. He doesn't feel particularly wobbly back here, but he wouldn't trust himself to stay on if they were going faster juuuust yet.
no subject
Facing forward again, he gently urges Helga to move a little faster--still a walk, though.
"And if you're joining the enforcers 'n want a horse of your own? We'll talk--I wanna do some breeding, I'll fix you up with one."
no subject
"That sounds great. All of it. You'd be doing me a huge favor. I'm a fast learner about most things, so I won't be too much of a headache for ya, I swear."
The idea of having his own horse, raised just for him, is like something out of a fairytale. Crichton is about to enter his horse girl era.
"If you do breed one for me, do I get the honor of choosing a name?"