#I don’t usually like his skins outside of basic military wear

[robiinurheart33]

The devil works hard but soap fans work harder

[secret-engima]

Braids questions! What do elders do when their hair falls out and they no longer have enough hair for their Clan braids? Do they tattoo the braid on their skin? Wear a wig? Wear a braid of leather/silk (like some padawans in sw do)? At what age do kids start wearing Clan braids regularly? And what happens if someone cuts off their/another’s braids? (What would cause someone to cut their own or another’s braids?)

Ohh good questions! When their hair starts falling out, they prepare an artificial braid made of silk dyed in their personal balance of the Clan colors, with all the beads they earned throughout their lives displayed on it/them (some elders/clans have more than one braid after all.) They start wearing those even before they’ve lost enough hair to not be able to have a “real” braid just to get everyone used to the idea. If I was more creative than I am atm I would probably talk about how the REALLY old elders get to have a fancy, if small, headdress thing out of like- bone and silk and leather braids hanging down that is like a silent display of all their accomplishments in life.

Kids start wearing the Clan braids as soon as they have enough hair to do so without hurting the scalp or whatever, their parent puts it in. As the kid gets older, they are taught by their parent/guardian how to do the braid themselves and what other types of braid there are.

Cutting braids is ... oh boy. OH BOY. *cracks knuckles* HERE WE GO.

The legal version of this is Exile. When someone in the Clan has committed a crime so horrible it will not be borne by other punishments, that member is dragged out before the entire village in undyed leathers (no more Clan colors, no NOTHING), and are both forcibly tattooed somewhere visible on their person with a mark of Exile + a symbol of their crime and then the braids are cut off and thrown into the fire to burn, beads and all. It’s ... it’s basically the most humiliating and horrifying thing that can happen in their culture, barring a few exceptions. Clan braids are, are nigh on sacred. Even ENEMY Clans, if they have any honor, will not try to harm the braids in battle and even when trying to break captives for info they Will. Not. Cut. The Braid.

The braids are ... they’re a symbol. Of family, of connection, of history. That braid is the same style of braid your parents wore, and their grandparents of the Clan wore and so on all the way back to the legendary chiefs and heroes and founders of Galahd (at least according to the story). That braid represents all you Clan history, all your family, all your memories and loved ones in the Clan. Other braids can be added for things like mourning or marriage, for positions like chieftain/chieftess or for special deeds done, but the Clan Braid is the first braid. It is Special. Cutting any braid is seen as assault tantamount to a war crime, but cutting the Clan Braid is cutting off someone from their family, their home, their history, their own NAME. It’s rendering them Nothing™. And yea from an outsider POV that seems very melodramatic but to a culture that is primarily Oral, where symbols are treasured and connections to family prized above all else ... it’s not. It’s really not.

Anyway, let me pause to clarify something that you didn’t: Galahdians know that accidents happen, they know that in a fight, or a hunt, or just a spar gone wrong the braids might get pulled or nicked. It’s horrible yes, but that’s- that’s not the same as CUTTING. Losing half a braid in the heat of battle will win some tears from the person who lost it, but the braid is still partly there, and a leather or silk replacement can be worn until the hair grows back. If the bead is pulled out and the braid comes loose, a replacement bead can be made and the braid woven back in, it’s okay.

Cutting a Braid in the Really Emotional Instances means pulling it tight and shearing it as close to the scalp as possible. It has to be very, very clearly intentional that way and that’s the heartbreaking one. Just getting nicked in battle is ... emotionally not fun, but not “I have been robbed of everything I am” kinda thing. Okay? Okay.

Moving on, to CUT one’s own braid is ... to intentionally exile oneself from the Clan. It’s an action that is usually done in front of witnesses to really count/make a point but can also be done without witnesses. Once it’s done however, it cannot be taken back. That’s it. The individual has cut themselves off from their family, their Clan, and their past. Some even abandon their first name, but all abandon their last name because it is no longer theirs. Reasons for this vary but it is NOT something to be done lightly. It’s ... usually either because the person believes they are no longer deserving of the Clan and are exiling themselves OR the person believes that the Clan itself has somehow betrayed them beyond all reconciliation and are cutting ties to the Clan very literally.

Note that a formally exiled individual (the one who got their braid cut by their Clan and a tattoo of their crime placed somewhere on their person), barring Very Unusual Circumstances, cannot be adopted into any other Clan. Most Clans won’t even talk to the exile of another clan, and even in war, if the Exile tries to sell information about their former Clan, they will be treated very warily and not allowed to join a new Clan.

Clan members who have had their braid cut by a dishonorable enemy as part of torture are not Exiles and will be welcomed back to the Clan with open arms and much mourning on their behalf.

Clan members who cut their own braid and self-exiled usually don’t WANT to join another Clan, at least for a while, but if they prove themselves to another Clan by intent or by accident then it is acceptable for the new Clan to offer to adopt them.

Fun Fact/HC: when Regis first founded the Kingsglaive it was, as a military branch, originally gonna have the “mandatory short haircut” thing. When the Galahdians discovered this, they freaked and were just about ready to RIOT. The recruits who hadn’t realized that “hair cut” meant “CUTTING OFF THE BRAIDS TOO” (they assumed the needed short hair with the EXCEPTION of braids because what are you a monster?) figured it out before any Braids were lost and immediately barricaded themselves in their barracks to Panic™. This caused a lot of annoyance with the sergeants who eventually had to call down the King to personally resolve the matter after more Galahdians heard about it and swarmed over the training grounds ready to Throw Hands.

Regis came down and politely tried to ask the nearest Galahdian why this was such a problem, the Galahdians were all too freaked out and angry to really answer (BECAUSE WHY EVEN ASK, IT’S OBVIOUS??? they think to themselves) and, in a rare moment of Social Awareness, Cor stepped in and gruffly (loudly) stated that FOR INSOMNIANS, hair and braids had no particular cultural meaning, IF THIS WAS NOT THE CASE for Galahdians, SOMEONE please step forward and SAY SO.

After about five minutes of horrified realization from the Galahdians (because oh yeah, they knew mainlanders didn’t have Clans but- but somehow they hadn’t expected braids to Not Be A Thing™), one of the recruits poked his head out of the barracks and then shakily came over to the King. Kneeling, the recruit haltingly explained that braids were sacred to Galahdians, a sign of family and home and belonging and to cut it off ... the recruit shuddered and visibly blanched at just the thought and wouldn’t go on, but by this point Regis got the point and firmly announced that the Kingsglaive would be allowed to keep their braids and hair the way they wished so long as they could prove that their hair would not be a hindrance in battle. Being Galahdians used to handling the Jungle, this was easily proven and the regulation was removed by Royal Order and all the Galahdians collectively breathed a sobbing sigh of relief.

[kkachi95]

New canon information from The Rise of Kyoshi

Alright, so I’m little bit over 42% through The Rise of Kyoshi and I’m HOOKED.

This book does a lot of worldbuilding and the new characters are well-developed.

I’ll be consolidating new information I find from this book on this post. I’ll keep updating the list as I progress through the book!

SPOILERS, obviously

1) KYOSHI

Kyoshi was abandoned as a child by her parents, who were leaders of an underground criminal organization.

Her mother was a rogue airbender hailing from the Eastern Air Temple. Yep, you heard it right, Kyoshi is half air nomad. Her mother apparently became a master at young age and fell in love with Kyoshi’s father, an outlaw, while traveling. Kyoshi’s mother modified her arrow tattoo into a serpent and her airbending ability lost its power due to her attachment to worldly concerns. She compensated with a pair of fans, which Kyoshi inherited.

Kyoshi’s father is from a family lineage that traces back to Royal Theater School in Ba Sing Se. Kyoshi inherited her make up and headdress from him.

Kyoshi was very tall even in her young age. In her teenage years, she is constantly described with terms like “giant,” “massive,” and “towering.” Since she’s taller than most men, I’m going to assume she’s at least 6 ft.

She spent her early childhood as a street urchin in Yokoya and was neglected by the villagers until she was discovered and taken under the care of an air nomad named Kelsang, who was a companion of Avatar Roku. She was, and still is relentlessly bullied by other children in Yokoya.

Kyoshi is initially very shy, non-confrontational, has very low self esteem, and inept at earthbending. Kyoshi is extremely strong for her age as she lifts a man by his neck without any trouble. Also, she has distinct freckles!

She is an extreme clean freak with a constant urge to “maintain order and minimize clutter." She starts out as a serveant assigned to clean up after the (misidentified) Avatar.

I believe Kyoshi is 16+ years old in this story.

Kyoshi’s outfit has chailmain armor underneath it, and she started wearing gloves after suffering major lightning wound on her hands.

2) KYOSHI’S COMPANIONS

As a teenager, Kyoshi has two friends: Yun and Rangi, who are both her age. I won’t go too much into their plot.

Yun is the ‘misidentified’ Earthbending Avatar who is a former street urchin. He is said to be handsome, playful and flirty. He has brown hair and jade green eyes.

He is extremely talented in earthbending and is loved by everyone. He ships Kyoshi and Rangi but also flirts with Kyoshi too (and basically everyone)

He was discovered ‘late’ as the Avatar and genuinely wants to do his best as the new Avatar.

Rangi is a Fire Nation noble girl who is sworn and honor bound to serve as the Avatar’s bodyguard. She is military-trained in the Fire Army Junior Corps. She is intimidating and hot-headed, but also very protective of her friends.

She is said to be beautiful, with delicate skin, porcelain doll face and jet black hair. She has a “charred rasp” voice and “dark bronze” eyes.

She is the "straight man" character of Kyoshi's entourage and takes things very seriously, but she's also the unintentionally funniest character of the group. She eventually becomes Kyoshi's swon bodyguard and depite her best judgement, she's dragged into many questionable situations by Kyoshi. Rangi is definitely my favorite new character. Think of her as a more sane, less murder-y version of Azula.

Her nickname: topknot, hairpins, and hotwoman

Rangi’s mother, Hei-Ran, was a companion of Avatar Kuruk, who gave up her commission in the Fire Nation Army, then later her position as headmistress in the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, to teach the Avatar. Hei-Ran and Rangi are said to be spitting image of each other.

Kyoshi is romantically attraced to both Yun and Rangi.

Kirima is a young female waterbender from the outlaw group Kyoshi’s parents founded.

She has wolf-like features and piercing blue eyes. Kirima is also said to be lithe and light on her feet.

She’s easy-going and likes to tease people, especially Rangi.

Wong is a huge male earthbender in his 30s from the outlaw group Kyoshi’s parents founded.

He is very tall, thick, and has smooth, clean shaven face. He has a very prominent protruding gut and isn’t the most loquacious type.

Lek is the youngest male Earthbender member of the group and is said to be 14-15.

He is from the Si Wong desert and was brought into the group by Kyoshi’s parents, whom he thinks very highly of. This caused Kyoshi to resent him initially.

He values his family and likes to tease other people just like Kirima. Lek has very precise control of small earth projectiles, which he uses as bullets.

Lao Ge is an old, mysterious Earthbending assassin who is said to be hundreds of years old. He pretends to be a drunken fool and only Kyoshi knows of his true identity.

He travels with the group and goes off on his own to kill people he deem unworthy of living. Kyoshi asks him to be her Sifu.

3) THE AVATAR CYCLE

Avatar Kuruk died at the age of 33. He was said to be one of the greatest Pai Sho players in history and a highly-skilled bender, but lacked leadership and diplomatic skills. He spent his time traveling around the four nation seeking pleasure. He was also one of the best hunters to have ever lived.

Two of Avatar Yangchen’s friends and teachers died protecting her from the enemy.

Each nation has its own way of discovering the Avatar and identifying a toddler’s ability to bend

Being the Avatar’s companion was considered to be an honor beyond reckoning that only few got to experience. Those who taught the Avatar held massive influence over the world.

Period between the death of the previous Avatar and discovery of his/her successor is often filled with political turmoil. The Rise of Kyoshi is set in a politically turbulent time as Kuruk died in young age and the new Avatar was discovered much later than usual. This led to the rise of many opportunist criminal factions.

4) BENDING

Unlike the show, bending is openly depicted as being LETHAL in this book. People are impaled, burned, crushed, buried, sliced, and so on.

Seismic sense is a skill shared by all earthbenders, not just Toph. Most people’s skills are extremely rudimentary, though.

‘Dust stepping’ and ‘mist stepping’ are abilities practiced by certain earth and waterbenders to create floating platforms that move with them, which allow them to run through thin air. Rangi mimics this move with firebending after having witnessed it.

Firebenders have naturally warm bodies and they can project heat, which allows them to do things like increasing a room’s temperature by several degrees.

Firebenders' "inner fire" allow them to resist poison.

People in the Fire Nation identify bending ability of their children by placing a bowl full of highly-flammable materials to see if their children can resonate with it. This is done as early as possible to prevent accidental fires as young children don't have good control over their flames.

Lightning bending is a skill so rare that people thought it of it as a folktale or a long lost knowledge. Barely any living witnesses who can confirm its existence exists.

Airbender are seemingly immune to the weather.

5) EARTH KINGDOM

Earth Kingdom is highly fragmented and has multiple kings. This is attributed to Ba Sing Se’s failure or unwillingness to actively assert control over the continent. 

Bandits and pirates plague the countryside. Small settlements and towns have to form militias and fend for themselves as the official Earth Kingdom military seems to neglect their plight.   

Earth Kingdom’s Northern and Southern dialect are said to be so different that they might as well be different language. People of the Si Wong Desert barely share any culture or custom with rest of the Earth Kingdom.

Beifongs were known for their wealth even in this era.

Kyoshi Island was originally known as Yokoya. Farming yields little and people scrape by to meet end’s meet. People here are said to wear blue clothes despite their earth kingdom heritage. Kyoshi was left here as a child and initially grew up as a street urchin because the villagers neglected her for being an outsider.

6) FIRE NATION

Apparently, firebenders are notorious for always talking about honor.

Fire Nation was involved in a conflict with the Earth Kindom in the distant (?) past.

Fire Navy is the most capable Navy in the world.

Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girl holds Agni Kais and there are many “accidental” kills.

Firebending instructors used to maim their students for insubordination.

Hair is heavily linked with honor. Losers of Agni Kai would shave parts of their head bald as sign of humility but would leave the top knot alone since it’s considered sacred. It was never touched except in circumstances akin to death.

7) WATER TRIBES

The Souther Water tribe is said to be poor, undeveloped, and vulnerable. It’s significantly behind the rest of the world in terms of development. Southern Water Tribe doesn’t have a legitimate Navy because it doesn’t have trees necessary for shipbuilding. It is a peaceful nation, though it is involved in a territorial dispute over an island with the Earth Kingdom. It’s ruled by multiple chieftains.

“Tui’s gills!” - Water Tribe equivalent of ‘Oh my god’

8) AIR NOMADS

Air nomads are regarded with great respect and reverence for their wisdom and spirituality.

Head nomad of an air temple is referred to as an Abbot.

9) DAOFEI (BANDITS)

Daofei plays a huge role in the story. A vast underground criminal scoiety with its own code of honor run deeply throughout the Earth Kingdom, which is "too big to police" for the Earth Kingdom Army. 

As mentioned earlier, Kyoshi's parents were leaders of a prominent Daofei group and Kyoshi herself officially swears her Daofei vows to learn bending skills from her parents' old colleagues. Kyoshi absolutely despises Daofei, though.

Several years before the novel’s start, these bandits staged what is known as the Yellow Neck Rebellion, which is an analogue of the Yellow Turban Rebellion (184–205 AD) during Han Dynasty China. In real life, the rebellion led to the tumultuous time period known as the Three Kingdoms Period, where various warlords fought over control of China.

[keelymewett]

Zombie Movie: I Am Legend (2007)

“Here’s Karen at the health desk.”

Karen from the health desk. (Picture: A female news anchor, Karen from the health desk.)

Language warning (sorry kids, but this is an MA15+ movie). 

I shit you not, that’s one of the opening quotes of the movies. So, friends and enemies, welcome to the longest review I’ve done of a zombie movie yet. It’s 1:35am here in Australia and I’ve just finished rewatching I Am Legend, everything’s fresh in my mind and I’m hyped up on chocolate. 

This movie has incredible tension, a fresh take on the zombie apocalypse, and it’s based on the 1954 novel by Richard Matherson, which inspired the modern day vampire and zombie movies. Why you may ask? Because it popularised the concept of a worldwide apocalypse due to a disease... now I’m beginning to realise that watching zombie movies during a global pandemic maybe wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. Any who. 

YouTube rewind made me forget how bloody good of an actor Will Smith is, and boy does he deliver in this movie. Robert’s (that his character, btw, though I will probably end up just referring to the character as Will Smith) interactions with Sam the goodest girl in the world (she’s a dog) and the mannequins is incredible.

The goodest girl in the world. (Picture: A dog (I’m sorry - I don’t know dog breeds! I’m 99% sure she’s a German Shepard) being given a bath and head scratches by Will Smith.)

Now: three things to look forward to in this “review” (assuming you read the spoilery section below). One: how realistic is this apocalypse? Two: there’s a dog. Three: zombie vampires. Vampire zombies? 

Backgrounds details! (Picture: Will Smith opened the fridge. On the fridge door are photos of his wife and daughter, a calendar dated for December, a drawing with “Marley” written in kids handwriting, post-it notes, a pamphlet with the heading “Quarantine”, and a Time Magazine cover of Robert Neville (Will Smith). The title reads (heading) “Saviour?” (sub-heading) “Soldier, Scientist” (body of text) “In a Battle that Could Save Thousands of Lives, Lt. Col. Robert Neville Takes on the XV Virus.”

Also, there’s banging in my house at the moment and when I say I’m peaking. I’m going to need to listen to some music while I write this.

Read on for a fun time! Spoilers ahoy!

Realism (the really relevant part. Yikes)

Okay, so what’s this fresh take on the apocalypse? Basically, this doctor cures cancer and it all goes to shit from there. I’m not 100% on the logistical jump from “destroying cancer cells” to “humans (and animals) becoming bloodthirsty mutants that burn in the sun” - for instance, this is just my sci-fi high-school biology and physics brain working here, cancer is basically a rogue cell that mutates other cells and destroys them in the process, yeah? So if the doctor, like she said, uses these cancer cells to work for the body and in the process “cures” cancer, wouldn’t the humans just... infect each other and the virus would kill the host if it went south? Given, that did happen in like 90% of cases as Will Smith explains, but where does the sunlight allergy come in? Is cancer afraid of UV? Confused, but I digress. 

... Is that my queen, Missy, from Umbrella Academy? (Picture: A woman with blood leaking from her eyes, holding a child and shouting for help.)

The scene where they’re listening to the radio and the guy is like we’re “issuing a military quarantine of New York City” I’m like bitch you wish. Unrealistic. The USA currently (9/10/2020) has the highest cases of COVID-19 in the world (for future historians and poor school children, it’s at 7.68 MILLION cases, no statistic for recovered cases for some weird ass reason, and sadly, 212,000 deaths. For reference, here in Australia we’ve had as of today 27,206 cases, 24,807 recovered and 897 deaths. New Zealand, who went into hard lockdown, had as of today, 1,864 cases, 1,800 recovered, and 25 deaths, with a period where there were 0 new cases for several days.)

Though, with that in mind, everyone going outside and gathering in large crowds? Realistic. 

The actual movie part

Praises time! Will Smith has a stockpile of food. Also, him getting Sam (the dog) to eat her vegetables like she’s a little kid? Cutest thing ever. 

Stockpilesss. (Picture: Will Smith wearing an apron and preparing a meal in a kitchen chock full of food items, including things like Pringles and spaghetti sauce.)

Setting alarms on his watch for sunset? Brilliant, smart idea, fantastic. Re-enforced windows and door, AND booby-trapped house? Incredible, genius. Setting traps to catch the zomvamps? (like the dumb name I just came up with? Don’t worry, I’ll reveal the stupid arbitrary name they ACTUALLY came up with later) Talent, intelligence. 

Dude, why wouldn’t you restrain the head/chest? You know, the part that can bite you? (Picture: Will Smith in a lab coat standing over a female zombie-vampire who’s been secured to a metal bench by the wrists and ankles. Medical monitors are connected to her.)

Now, Will Smith is out here looking for a cure. And by looking, I mean actively creating. In a lab. He washes his hands before going in - *chef’s kiss* follow his example - and unlike other zombie movies where it’s super dramatic in the hunt for a cure, this is a lot more chill considering it’s a) been 3 years and b) is more like how science actually works. Trials, tests, animal test-subjects (there is a debate about the ethics of this which I won’t go into here) (I mean a debate in real life not in the zombie movie haha) and human test-subjects. 

“Did you kidnap my girlfriend, bro?” (Picture: bald, pale muscular dude-bro-looking zombie-vampire roaring in rage.)

The mother-fracking zombies

I have to say it: these are the most dumbass looking vampire-zombies. I say vampire-zombies (zomvamps) because they avoid sunlight but also eat people? 

Now, unlike most zombie movies, these are really bloody intelligent zomvamps. At one point, after setting a booby trap and catching a zomvamp after stumbling into a nest of them, Robert says “They’re not showing any human social behaviour.” Hahahaha. Okay bitch first of all dude bro screamed when you kidnapped his mate, secondly dude bro has pet dogs, thirdly dude bro fucking caught you in a trap. He took revenge on you there, love. He followed you home!

The zomvamps are apex predators, can climb, run, hunt in packs, communicate with each other, set booby traps, make coordinated attacks, follow you home, learn where you live and remember it, and holy fuck humans had no chance. 

Thank you for clarifying, because I actually found this quite funny. Like, look at him! (Picture: dude-bro zombie-vampire from earlier growling in front of a flaming car. The zombie-vampires are very CGI, pale, fish-person looking things with pale skin and completely bald of hair. This guy is wearing ripped clothes. The caption reads “Growls menacingly”.)

Random things I have in my notes but haven’t mentioned yet (yes I took notes) 

What’s with the apocalypse and mannequins? Looking at you, Five (Umbrella Academy). 

(Picture: Will Smith looking at a “female” mannequin, who is dressed in a coat and black bob wig. They’re in a movie store. Funnily enough, behind the mannequin is the “Adult” section of the films.)

I agree with the fuck-that-shit sentiment when you see a mannequin suddenly appear in a different part of the city - like how in the hell?? 

(Picture: Will Smith aiming a rifle at a mannequin in an orange jumper. Mannequin is usually located outside of the movie store, yet here it is randomly in the middle of the street at the end of a T-section. There are tall glass windows behind the mannequin, and the window to the right has a giant, gaping pitch black hole in it. It’s presumed that there is a nest of zombie-vampires in there.)

... so is this a booby trap for humans or for zomvamps? Because the former makes sense if that dude bro zomvamp analysed Will Smith’s trap from earlier and remade it (hence dropped the car off a bridge to string him up), and the latter doesn’t really make sense because a) you’ll only catch (and probably kill) one zomvamp and why would you want only one unless you’re Robert and two why tf aren’t you meeting up with Robert he’s been broadcasting and racing around town hunting deer (elk?) in a sports car. 

I’d like to know how hard it actually is to do like a weird sit-up and get yourself free of one of these kinds of traps. Am I dumb for thinking it’s not that hard? (Picture: Will Smith is suspended in the air by a rope tied around his ankle, the result of a booby-trap. He’s struggling to free himself.)

Come on, you’re literally a doctor and a soldier. Don’t tell me you’re actually considering pulling that out? (Picture: Will Smith has been impaled in the leg by something. It looks like he’s about to attempt to pull it out. He’s in the middle of the street as the sun sets, and Sam is right next to him.)

Sam is a queen. Here are some photos of her.

(Picture: Robert Neville’s wife carrying a baby Sam - Sam is a puppy, by the way, and very adorable. Neville’s young daughter is walking out of the gate to their house behind her mother.)

(Picture: Will Smith in a flashback saying goodbye to his wife and daughter and crying. Sam is licking away his tears.)

Sometimes I hate foreshadowing. (Picture: Will Smith searching a house. He opens a cupboard and there’s a newspaper article with a picture of a zombie-vampire dog. The article reads “Infected dogs can come out at dusk. Stay in the light.” There’s a number to call for questions.)

Worst birthday ever. Now I’m sad and there’s still half the movie left. 

(Picture: Will Smith sitting on the floor of his lab, hugging Sam, who’s just been bitten by infected dogs.) 

Get Shrek’d.

(Picture: The ‘Shrek’ movie playing on the TV in Neville’s house.)

Ma’am, do you not know how to ration? That is such a waste of food. (Picture: the woman and kid who rescued Will Smith have cooked breakfast. She’s cooked way too many scrambled eggs for two adults and a kid, and all the of the bacon for literally no reason.)

Oh yeah, wanna know what they call the zombies in this movie? 

Dark Seekers. They dropped that one on us well into the final half of the movie. Dark Seekers? Really? I won’t get into how dumb that sounds when you had two options to choose from - vampires and zombies. Hell, go with my suggestion of zomvamps, even vampzoms. Dark Seekers? Sorry, I get hung up on dumb zombie-alternative names. Sure, I get the atmosphere might be ruined by calling them vampires or zombies, but not even lying I didn’t realise she said “Dark Seekers” until I turned the CC on to grab a quote. I thought she said “Dog Keepers” hahahaha. “The dog keepers got them.” My defence is that the dude bro did keep dogs. 

Finally, wrapping this up at 2:15 before I add in pictures, you’re telling me approximately 100 zomvamps made a coordinated attack on Will Smith’s house to eat... 3 people? That’s like me and a hundred mates descending on the pentagon for a fucking snickers bar. We’d get like an atom each. 

Oh, what’s that? They’re here to rescue one person? Really? Really? How in the fuck are they even zombies if their primary purpose isn’t to eat humans. I’m disappointed. But points for a fresh take, at least. 

Now one of the things I remember about this movie is that is has an alternate ending. The actual ending (huge spoilers but then again, you’re in the spoiler section) has Will Smith sacrifice himself (read: blow himself and the zomvamps up with a grenade) to defend the cure and save his new friends. The alternate ending, which was scrapped due to negative audience reaction, has Will Smith communicate with the zomvamps who like actually calm down and listen to him. He gives the dude bro back his friend, and... no one dies. 

I’m sorry, how is an ending where, sure, a cure isn’t found YET, but, the “villains” of the movie are humanised and a new side of them is seen that shows, hey, maybe there’s another way through this apocalypse, better than an ending where Will Smith dies? Make it make sense test audience. Because, remember, there’s still a whole bunch of immune people living out here, and three of them are currently in the same room. Robert’s only been working on the cure for 3 years. How many years do you reckon it takes to cure cancer? Hint: it’s ongoing in real life. Just because the cure isn’t found in the movie doesn’t mean it won’t be found. Ughhhh. I digress again. 

I have more random photos but I am very tired. If anyone’s interested in hearing me roast butterflies, the world not actually ending in 2012, and a missed pun about Until Dawn (even though it was made like ten years after this), and a quick analysis on Robert Neville and God, let me know :) 

Have a great day everyone, wash your hands, social distance if possible, and quarantine. Just because the COVID-19 virus isn’t turning us into zombies doesn’t mean it isn’t hurting us. 

Worldwide statistics, 9/10/2020: 36.2M total cases, 25.3M recovered, 1.06M deaths. 

(Picture: Will Smith saying “I like ‘Shrek’ after just quoting an entire scene of it to win a kid’s trust.)

[candyshua]

Linger {Lee Hangyul x Kim Yohan x Reader} Chapter 2

Navigating high school was expected to be difficult, but it was even more challenging without Mom there to guide you…

After the death of your mother, you move into your aunt’s tiny apartment amid the streets of Seoul. With your father working hard in the military, there was no way he could take care of you. Never in your seventeen years of living would you have expected to meet someone quite like the two boys you met. Their names were Kim Yohan and Lee Hangyul, and those names would soon become ingrained in your brain forever.

All you had wanted to do was survive…You wanted to get through the last year of high school without much trouble.

Yet, that was a faraway fantasy. No matter how much you wanted your past to go away, it would follow you wherever you went.

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Warnings: Death, murder, violence, traumatic events, PTSD, bullying.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2627

Friendship. In its entirety, it was something you craved. You desired to have a platonic bond with someone, but ever since the death of your mother, you were an outcast, a pariah. Yet, at Cheongdam High School, the students didn’t know that. You wanted to keep it that way.

One day, you were having lunch with your friend Song Hyeongjun. Hyeongjun was a funny boy, he was younger than you and had an odd yet charming aura to him. Sometimes, Hangyul and Yohan would join you two for lunch, but they usually took their lunchtime to go to Yohan’s father’s taekwondo studio. The two of them were fantastic fighters, according to Hyeongjun. 

Despite never having seen him fight, you didn’t doubt one bit that Kim Yohan was exceptional at it. You didn’t doubt Kim Yohan at all, in fact, you believed in him. You trusted him. During those past three months of getting to know him, he had snuck his way into your heart. Yet, it was oddly comforting, seeing as you didn’t want him to leave your heart. 

“I’m done, Hyeongjun. I’m gonna go outside for a bit.” You explained while cleaning up your tray filled with half-finished food. You picked up your backpack and went.

You arrived outside and decided to settle on a bench in front of the school. The school itself was huge and was protected by a huge gate. Beyond the gate was the beautiful setting of Seoul, the city you had grown to love just as if it were your home.

The blue sky was bright and inviting, along with the few wispy clouds scattered across the landscape. You felt truly content. 

You took out your backpack and rummaged through it, looking for your phone, wanting to take a picture of this beautiful day. 

Just as you were about to take the wonderful photo, a rather rude group of girls came by and ruined your entire mood.

The leader of the crew, Juda, wasn’t exactly your favorite person. She was known for being in love with Lee Hangyul, which didn’t affect you much. She would always whisper bad things about you, which you didn’t pay much attention to, but you still acknowledged the fact that she was rude to you. 

Juda leaned down and took your phone from your hand, her dyed chestnut brown hair aggressively brushing your face while doing so. You immediately attempted to get it back, but your wrist was grabbed by one of Juda’s friends. You sighed exasperatedly.

“Can I have my phone back, please? While I’m asking nicely?” You threatened, your voice on the brink of breaking from pure frustration.

Nobody seemed to notice Kim Yohan and Lee Hangyul walking towards the scene, ready to help out. Yet, fortunately for them, they didn’t have to do much. The moment Juda tried to punch you, you blocked it immediately. When one of her friends tried to kick you from behind, you jumped up and dodged it just in time. Soon, the group of four girls were all ready to attack, swinging aimlessly and unsuccessfully. Within two minutes, the four girls had their butts on the ground, groaning in defeat. You grabbed your phone, which was on the ground near Juda, luckily unscathed. 

“You should’ve just given me my phone back.” You calmly retorted, a smirk filled with victory etched onto your face. 

Yet, the smirk was completely washed off of your face the moment you turned around. There stood Kim Yohan and Lee Hangyul, and during that moment, you wanted nothing else but to disappear. Expecting them to cower in fear, it was much to your surprise when they started clapping.

“That was...impressive.” Yohan murmured as he wore a sly grin. You then visibly untensed, but you still couldn’t hide your shock.

“Relax, Y/N, we’re not gonna report you or anything.” Hangyul giggled, which made you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Oh.” You managed to muster.

“Oh?” Yohan teased, quirking an eyebrow. Yohan was handsome alright; his big brown eyes, sleek black hair, and pink plump lips were tangible evidence.

“I should go…” You suggested, but you were stopped by Yohan’s grip on your wrist. You didn’t miss the way your heartbeat quickened, and you certainly didn’t miss the spark you felt when he touched you. You turned around, your skin on fire from his touch. You never wanted him to let go.

“Where did you learn to fight like that? I know those girls, and they aren’t bad fighters.” Yohan questioned, his hand still around your wrist. You were so focused on him that you missed Hangyul looking at you with longing in his eyes. He had so desperately wanted to break you two apart, but he knew you had already fallen for Kim Yohan, the best student in the school and his best friend. But he couldn’t do that to him or to you.

“My dad serves in the military, and he made me start taking Taekwondo when I was five. I just stopped recently, since I can’t afford it.” You muttered.

“Well, would you like to start again? Free of charge!”

The look you gave Yohan was incredulous. Your eyebrows were basically sky high, your mouth was basically underground from how far it dropped, and your eyes popped out of your head. It took you a moment to compose yourself.

“Huh?”

“I help volunteer at a Taekwondo studio with Hangyul. We teach kids and practice by ourselves as well. Would you like to join us?” 

You pondered the idea. For a moment, you almost said no, since you felt like you were intruding. However, you didn’t have the stomach nor the heart to turn down Kim Yohan, so you ended up smiling and nodding.

“I’d love to.”

-

And so it began. Your bond with the two boys was strengthened little by little. Each session you taught brought the three of you closer together. 

On one Friday evening, Hangyul noticed your mother’s necklace around your neck during practice. “Why do you wear that necklace while fighting? It could hurt you.” Hangyul questioned, pointing to the object around your neck. You fidgeted with it for a bit.

“It was my mother’s.” 

Hangyul gave you an unreadable look with a mysterious glint in his eyes. You cowered a bit, too ashamed to make eye contact.

You hated yourself whenever you thought of your mother. If only you could go back and save her…

Hangyul noticed your tearful eyes before you did.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to get into it.” He reassured. You nodded and gave him a weak smile.

“Thank you, Hangyul. I really mean it.”

-

Hangyul laid awake in bed later that night, tossing and turning with you fresh in his mind. He couldn’t rid you of his mind no matter how hard he tried. Hangyul knew you didn’t like him, but it still hurt nonetheless. Unrequited love wasn’t exactly fun.

Deciding that it would be a sleepless night, Hangyul got out of bed and started to go downstairs to get a glass of water. When he heard his parents talking in a grave tone, however, he suddenly stopped. He quietly stood at the top of the stairs and listened to his parents, who were in the kitchen.

“How do we tell him, Sookyung?” Hangyul’s father asked, strain apparent in his voice.

“I don’t know, honey. He keeps looking for her, and I don’t think he’ll ever stop until he meets her or gets answers.”

Hangyul gulped. What was so wrong with meeting his biological mother? What were his parents hiding?

The moment he heard his parents’ footsteps, he quietly tip-toed back to his room and feigned sleep in his bed. 

His mind went back to you, and his heart began to hurt.

-

Woosh! The sound of Yohan’s fist gliding past your face, just barely missing, was heard among the quiet studio. 

The two of you continued to spar, punches and kicks being expertly thrown, until you had Yohan pinned beneath your leg. After he started hitting your leg, letting you know that you won, you shot up and screamed a shrill of joy.

“Finally! I beat you!” You laughed, sticking your tongue out at him afterward. He merely crossed his arms and glared at you playfully. 

“I’m hungry,” Yohan said in an attempt to change the subject.

“Yeah, I guess losing can make you hungry.” You taunted, which led to Yohan chasing you aimlessly around the studio. He finally caught up to you, grabbing your wrist and smirking triumphantly.

The two of you stared at each other for just a bit. His beautiful brown eyes stared into yours, and you never wanted to look away.

He was beautiful.

On the other hand, Yohan’s heart was beating unnaturally fast. Why was it doing that?

You tried to laugh the oddly intimate moment off, smoothly slipping yourself from his grasp around your wrist.

“Let’s go get food!” You cheered. Yohan nodded and smiled. After you ran off to go and get changed, Yohan stared at himself in the taekwondo studio’s mirror.

What was wrong with him? Why were his cheeks flushed?

He couldn’t get your warm, adorable smile out of his head. He also couldn’t ignore the tingling feeling you gave him, or the sparks he felt whenever he touched you.

And then, it hit him like a bullet train.

He was falling for you.

-

The two of you went to a small, local restaurant right by the taekwondo studio. The night was filled with laughter and smiles, the two of you just getting lost in each other’s eyes. 

After a bit of small talk, the two of you got to know each other a bit better. For example, you learned about his favorite color (which was blue), his reason for starting taekwondo (he wanted to learn how to protect his family), and his life at home. 

Soon, it turned into him venting to you. His parents, who were constantly fighting, drove him absolutely insane. You listened attentively and hoped you could give him some advice. You mindlessly chewed on your food as he went on about the stress he was feeling.

“I just don’t feel like I’m doing this whole ‘life’ thing right.” He confessed, avoiding eye-contact with you, as if he were ashamed.

You pondered his thought for a moment.

“There is no right way to live life,” You began, “and there is no wrong way. That’s the thing about living, you have days where things feel right and days where things feel wrong. There isn’t a rulebook to this, nor is there a proper way to be human. You just have to be you, and not some ‘picture-perfect’ guy. Only after that will you start feeling better.”

Yohan stared at you innocently. You couldn’t help but internally smile at his adorable side. 

“Wow, you’re really good at giving advice. And, you’re right.” He murmured. You chuckled slightly, your heart swelling with warmth. 

After your lovely night together, you finally went home to your apartment. By then, it was December. It had been a few months since you got your father’s last letter, but you were still shocked to see it on the coffee table nonetheless.

You sighed and mentally prepared yourself. You toyed with the necklace around your neck; it was a nervous habit you had picked up ever since you got it. 

You opened up the letter and let out a sigh of relief once you saw how short it was. 

But then, your heart stopped. A photograph fell out of the envelope. The photo encased a picture of your mother, your father, and you.

You were happy. And, more importantly, you were together. 

Without even realizing it, tears started to cascade down your face. Your heart began to hurt, more than it ever did before. You clutched your chest, and suddenly you realized you were crying.

You missed your mother more than anything else; if you could just go back to that night…

Everything would be different, if only you were a bit quicker. 

Your mind went back to the night your mother died. It was a tranquil evening, and you big your mother good night before going upstairs to your room. 

Little did you know that those would be the last words your mother would ever hear from you.

You quickly texted your father a good night message and then fell asleep without any trouble. Before you could’ve even realized it, you were in a nice, peaceful sleep.

You awoke to the sound of a plate breaking. You shot up from your bed, your chest heaving and your breaths heavy and uneven. Your eyes darted around your room, which was a quaint and comfy place. 

Soon, you heard a noise you would never forget--the sound of your mother screaming for help. 

You wanted to go and run to her, but you knew that you could hurt yourself. You then heard footsteps creak against the wooden floors of your kitchen--the steps much too heavy to be your mother’s.

There was an intruder.

You then got a pair of scissors from a container on your desk and quietly tip-toed downstairs. Your fear was about to swallow you whole, until you remembered who you were trying to save.

Alas, you were too late. Your mother laid on the floor in a pool of her own deep red blood. It was a sight that would be permanently engraved in your brain, your mother’s body clinging onto what little life there was left for her.

Anger devoured you. The man, who looked shocked to see another human being, quickly reacted. Yet, your years of training in taekwondo had managed to save your life. You kicked him in the groin and he hunched over, dropping the bloody knife he held. You threw the scissors aside; you had found a better weapon.

You grabbed his knife and plunged it into his stomach. You cried out at the disturbing noise.

He fell to the ground, he had lost consciousness very quickly. You rushed over to your counter and grabbed the phone, dialing the emergency service number as quickly as humanly possible.

After hanging up the phone, you stared at your mother with traumatized eyes. Soon, the reality of the situation started to sink in with a merciless twinge.

You had killed a man, and your mother was going to die. 

You rushed over to where your mother laid, tears falling down your eyes like an ocean tide. 

“Mom, I’m so sorry...I should’ve been here quicker.” You sobbed, holding her hands. Yet, she didn’t have the strength to respond. Her breaths soon thinned out and halted.

Your mother was dead.

-

You finally read your father’s letter.

Y/N,

I thought you should have this photo. I’m sorry it has been so long, I’ve been so busy with the army. I hope you can smile at this picture just like I did.

-Your father.

You remembered the times when you would talk to your father daily on the phone. Now, the two of you would send each other a letter every so often. It seemed as if your life ended that night, too.

Or, you thought it did. But, after many months of being without your mother, you had realized something:

The living must live.

So, you smiled at the photo of the three of you, fulfilling your father’s wish. 

Your mind then roamed back to the cute boy you had so desperately fallen for. You giggled slightly at the thought of your mother when she figured out you had a crush. She would have loved it!

Although your heart felt a bit empty, you smiled. I have to live on, you thought, I have to.

[somethingmorecreative1]

Renegade Dawn [klance fic]

also known as, the klance pacific rim au

Here’s the link on AO3, if you’d rather read there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379301/chapters/56020756

;;

Chapter 1

January 2021—Year 14 of the Kaiju War

Lance joins the military because of a vendetta against the Kaiju and a dream to save the world by becoming a Jaeger pilot.

It’s been his dream since he was ten. He’s wanted this more than he’s ever wanted anything else. His whole life has been driven by this goal, and the day after he graduates high school, he goes down to the military’s office in his hometown and signs up. Two weeks later, he’s shipped out to the Garrison Base in the middle of the desert to go through basic training.

“You don’t have to do this, mijo,” his mother tells him when they’re standing in front of the car that’s taking him to the airport. She’s holding his hand, and his younger brother and sister are standing behind them.

Lance thinks about his dad and his older sister. He thinks about the day that the Kaiju, Hammerjaw, destroyed L.A. and tormented them. He thinks about being at his dad’s restaurant with his sister when it all happened, how they were hunted down, cornered in an alleyway. He remembers his dad, gripping him and his sister by their shoulders, hunkering down in the rubble and singing to them softly in Spanish.

“It’s all going to be okay. I love you,” he had murmured, right before Hammerjaw roared and took both of them away from Lance forever.

Now, he blinks his tears back and reaches out to hug his mom one more time. He murmurs, “Yeah, I do.”

Life at the Garrison isn’t what Lance had expected, but he adapts quickly. He thought it would be a few weeks of training, then straight to a Jaeger base where he could meet a co-pilot and start fighting in the war. He thought that the military would be pushing out pilots faster than ever since Kaiju activity had skyrocketed from 2018. He thought it would be quick training and an even quicker placement.

He’s wrong. The Garrison puts him and all the other young recruits through the wringer. The training is harder than anything he’s ever done in his life, and the classes that he and the other cadets take test him just as much as well. It’s hell, but Lance keeps his eyes on the prize and works his ass off. He keeps a picture of his dad and sister taped to his wall beside the rest of his family, and every morning before training and class, he touches it and thinks about the day he will step into a Jaeger to finally right some wrongs and get justice for his family and the rest of the world.

At the Garrison, he makes the best friend he’s ever had in his life. His name is Hunk, and he’s from the Samoan Islands. He’s the same age as Lance, but he’s in the engineering class instead of fighter pilot. When they first meet, Lance tells Hunk of his dreams to pilot a Jaeger, and Hunk grins at him wide and says, “That’s so cool! I want to build them.”

Lance and Hunk make it through three years of basic and advanced training when the Garrison begins initiating the test for drift ability. Once the possible candidates for the Jaeger program are singled out, they get placed into a different training program at a base, one of the Shatterdomes, on the Pacific rim.

The morning that Lance has his test is bright. The desert is warm and cold at the same time in January, and Lance is more nervous and excited than he’s been since he signed up for the military.

Because his nerves are so unsteady, Hunk walks him down to the testing arena. It’s a quick test, one that only takes a few minutes. The simplicity of the test scares a lot of people; you can either drift or not. It’s that easy.

Lance is terrified and confident at the same time. This is his dream. This is everything he’s ever wanted all wrapped up in ten minutes.

“You’re going to do great,” Hunk tells him, all smiles. “We’ll celebrate when you finish, okay?”

Lance takes a deep breath, “Okay, dude. Thanks.”

Hunk leaves him just outside of the testing center, where one of the instructors signs him in and tells him to wait until the previous cadet is finished with his test.

And when that cadet comes out, Lance should have really known who it was going to be.

Keith fucking Kogane has been a pain in his ass ever since he got to the Garrison. Keith is an unruly, arrogant, prickly bastard. He’s always one step ahead of Lance in everything that they ever do, and he makes sure that Lance knows it. Not to mention that he has the ugliest mullet in the history of hair.

It doesn’t help that when Lance tried to make friends with Keith one of the first days they were here, Keith blew him off and acted like he didn’t exist.

Keith Kogane walks out of the training center and glances at Lance. His dark eyes don’t reveal anything, and he keeps walking as if nothing’s happened. He can’t help but wonder how Keith’s test went.

“Sanchez,” one of the officers calls. Lance jerks up from his chair. “Let’s go.”

They lead him into the room and sit him down in a chair. He doesn’t let his nerves show. Two of the officers place a metal ring riddled with sensors on his head, then they add sensors to his skin down his arms and under his shirt.

“You’re going to feel a slight prick,” one of the officers says. Her face is serious. “You’ll know if it works.”

They hook something into the headband that he can’t see, and then, there’s a sharp pinch and Lance gasps as he’s thrown into his memories.

It’s almost too fast for him to watch. He sees his family, his mom and siblings, L.A., driving his first car, working his first job, his first kiss, his dad and his sister. His memories darken; he remembers watching the news, the destruction of the coastal cities along the Pacific Ocean, feeling so enraged and helpless that the only thing he could think about was piloting a Jaeger. The Kaiju, up close, him screaming, his dad and sister—

Lance comes out of his memories with another gasp and lurches forward.

It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath, but when he does, he sees his superior officer, Iverson, in the corner of the room, nodding at a screen in approval. He glances over to Lance and nods as well, “Congratulations, cadet. Looks like you have drift ability.”

He sighs in relief and feels something inside him slot into place. The other officers unhook him and help him to his feet, and Lance is so relieved that he salutes Iverson and leaves without saying anything at all.

Hunk catches him coming out of the room and asks excitedly, “How did it go?”

Lance bursts into tears and drops his head to Hunk’s shoulder, overwhelmed and inexplicably sad because of the memories he’s seen. It was like being there all over again. Over his tears, he says, “It was awesome. I have drift ability.”

;;

The next day, Lance gets pulled out of his mechanics class by one of the senior officers. They take him to the training deck, where there is a line of other cadets. Lance knows most of them from his other classes, recognizes them in the sense that he’s seen them around but doesn’t talk to them often. There are seven of them including—

Keith Kogane.

Lance blanches. Keith Kogane has drift ability? Of fucking course he does. There isn’t a universe or reality that exists where he’s better than Keith at something.

Keith either doesn’t notice him or doesn’t care that he’s got drift ability too. He doesn’t look over at Lance, staring straight ahead at Iverson pacing in front of the line.

Lance joins the rest of the cadets in line and waits. Other than the seven cadets and Keith, there are a few more officers in the room, along with a man that Lance doesn’t recognize. He’s wearing a pair of military blue pants with a matching sweater, and he has a pair of dog tags around his neck. His hair is orange, and his huge mustache and eyebrows match the color perfectly.

“Thanks for finally joining us, Sanchez,” Iverson remarks, and for however proud of Lance he had been yesterday, he’s back to his usual angry and snide remarks. Lance snaps his attention back to his commanding officer.

“Alright, cadets,” Iverson begins, voice echoing across the training deck. “Out of everyone we tested yesterday, the seven of you have the ability to drift. Congratulations. From here, we’re releasing five of you to different Jaeger programs around the world where you will begin your pilot training. Smith, Kelley, Robins, Johnson, and Rodriguez, we’re awaiting your placement and should have the results within the week. Dismissed.”

Lance feels his heart sink. Iverson didn’t call his name. What the hell does that mean? But, he didn’t call Keith’s either. What’s going on?

The other cadets file out of the room, and Lance automatically takes two steps to his right, forming the line again. He feels Keith do the same, but he doesn’t look over at him.

“Kogane, Sanchez,” Iverson starts, stopping in front of the two of them. Lance’s heart is beating too fast in his chest. “You may have noticed I didn’t call either of your names.”

“Yes, sir,” they say at the exact same time.

“Well, let me introduce you two to Professor Coran,” he continues, gesturing to the man in the corner of the room with the mustache. “He’s the lead researcher and recruiter for the International Jaeger Program with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps.”

The man, Professor Coran, steps forward. He has a heavy Australian accent when he starts speaking, “Nice to meet you, boys. I’m here because of your percentages on the Drift Ability tests you were given yesterday.”

Lance frowns and opens his mouth—

Keith beats him to it, like always, and there’s that same pinch of jealousy in Lance. Keith asks, “What about them?”

Iverson frowns at Keith, but Professor Coran brightens and continues, voice even louder and accent even thicker, “I’m glad you asked! You see, you and your fellow cadet’s percentages on the Drift Ability tests were higher than any numbers we’ve ever seen from candidates your age! It’s quite amazing, actually. When your commanding officers sent the Marshall the reports, I flew directly out here to see it myself.”

There’s a second of silence, and Lance looks over at Keith, who thankfully looks just as confused as he feels. He says, “Um, sir, what do you mean? Why does it matter if our scores were higher?”

“High scores reflect higher probability of immediate success in the Jaeger program,” Professor Coran exclaims. “Candidates that have high scores on the Drift Ability tests are often the most successful in Jaegers fighting the Kaiju. When we come across scores such as these, we prefer to fast track the candidates to one of the more active Shatterdomes in the world.”

Lance looks over to Keith again, and his expression is full of surprise too. Lance doesn’t… he doesn’t know how this is possible. It feels like all of his dreams just came true in one go. He’s going to be placed in a Shatterdome. One day, he’s going to pilot a motherfucking Jaeger.

“However,” Professor Coran says, and Lance hesitates, “there was also some other, more interesting data when we compared both of your scores. It seems that the both of you tested so high and so comparably that we have no other choice but to wonder if the two of you perhaps have drift compatibility.”

Lance jerks back like he’s been burned because honestly, what the fuck? There’s no way in hell that he would ever, ever, ever be drift compatible with Keith fucking Kogane.

“So,” the Aussie continues, oblivious to Lance’s inner turmoil, “your superior officers have agreed to allow me and my team to run a drift test on you. It won’t be in a real Jaeger, of course, just in a simulator. Assuming our data and predictions are correct and the two of you are in fact drift compatible, we’ll move both of you to start co-pilot training.”

Lance doesn’t understand. He feels like this is all a joke. Surely, one of the officers in the room will start laughing and someone will yell gotcha! and they’ll all laugh about how ridiculous this sounds. There’s no way that the two of them could be drift compatible. No fucking way.

“We’ll start the simulation this afternoon,” Professor Coran finishes. “Rest up; this won’t be easy.”

With that, he files out of the room, followed by Iverson and the other officers, which leaves Lance and Keith standing in the room alone.

Keith clears his throat and turns to look at him, and Lance feels his face heat up for no reason at all. Keith is just—he’s so infuriating.

“Um,” Keith stammers a little before holding his hand out for a handshake. “I’m Keith.”

Lance stares at him, annoyed that Keith is actually introducing himself right now as if he has no fucking clue who Lance is. He sneers, “I know who you are, Keith. We’ve had classes together for three years.”

Keith frowns too and drops his hand, “Okay.”

Yeah. There’s no way he’s drift compatible with him.

It gets worse when Keith asks, “What’s your name?”

Lance actually sees red before he answers, “Uh, the name’s Lance. We’ve been in the same fucking classes.”

“Really? Are you an engineer?”

“No, I’m a pilot! We’re like rivals. You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck?”

Keith looks at him blankly, and Lance turns away from him and throws his hands up into the air, frustrated that he’s even having this conversation. He hates Keith more now that the stupid bastard doesn’t even know his name. They’ve been competing for the same, top spot in their classes since they started training, and Keith never even bothered with learning his name.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith says, a few seconds later. “We’re not rivals. We have to do this simulation together in a few hours.”

There’s something about the way that Keith says it that makes Lance even angrier. He turns and walks toward the door, “Yeah, well, my score on the Drift Ability test was just as high as yours, so don’t get a big head about it, mullet.”

“I didn’t. I don’t—fuck, you’re such an idiot!”

Lance flips him off and stalks out of the room.

;;

“And so apparently our Drift Ability results were so similar that they think Keith and I might be drift compatible.”

“What?” Hunk exclaims. They’re sitting in their barracks, and Lance is leaning against Hunk’s shoulder while the other boy does his engineering assignment. It’s only a few more hours until he has to report back for the simulation. “That’s amazing! Drift compatibility isn’t supposed to even be possible until you finish training in a full Jaeger program.”

Lance sighs, “It’s not amazing, Hunk. Keith is so… There’s no way we could ever be compatible with each other. He didn’t even know my fucking name.”

“Yeah, but… Lance, if both of your scores were the highest scores on the record for Drift Ability and the two of you were drift compatible, you and Keith might be the strongest Jaeger pilots in the world,” Hunk explains, all patience and excitement.

It should make Lance excited too. That would be… He’s dreamed of piloting a Jaeger since he was eight years old, but the thought of piloting with Keith, of allowing Keith into his head and expecting him to accept Lance for everything is terrifying to him. He doesn’t know if he could do it.

But Hunk is staring at him now and he’s been such a good friend that Lance just sighs and mumbles, “I’ll do my best.”

;;

Lance promises that he does try his best. It’s not his fault that they fail epically and spectacularly. It’s all Keith’s fault.

The simulation starts out simple enough. Lance does his best to avoid looking at Keith while Professor Coran and the rest of his team dress them in black bodysuits. From the looks of them, they look like incomplete drivesuits that real Jaeger pilots use. Even though he’s pissed as hell that he’s having to do this with Keith, it makes him really excited about the future.

The team guides him and Keith over to a station a few feet away. It looks like what Lance imagines the inside of the cockpit of a Jaeger looks like, incomplete of course. There are pedals where the pilot’s feet go, an overhanging communication system, and a dash and control panel filled with different weapon options and controls.

One of the officers grips Lance’s shoulders while he steps onto the pedals, and his feet slide into place and stay there because of the magnets in his suit. It’s weird, and Lance breathes out a small laugh at the feeling.

“Alright, boys,” Professor Coran starts, “we’re going to finish setting up the simulator, and then, we’ll begin the test. You haven’t had any training whatsoever, so we’re not expecting a miracle from you. Whatever the results may be, both of you will still be placed in a Jaeger program to begin your pilot training, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Lance and Keith speak at the same time again. The officers at their sides continue to hook up different lines and cables to their suits.

Professor Coran nods, “Good. Now, you both know about the drift. It’s a neural connection between two pilots that allow them to pilot a Jaeger together. When you drift with someone, you learn everything about them and them to you. I won’t lie, it is one of the most intense sensations in the world. There is a reason that only a select few have the ability to drift; finding someone that you’re drift compatible with is integrally important to the Jaeger Program. The strongest pilots and Jaegers are always drift compatible.”

Lance doesn’t really have anything to ask at that. He understands how important this is. He knows that the literal safety of the world depends on the Jaeger pilots defending Earth from the Kaiju. It just—he’s excited about maybe being drift compatible with someone, but he doesn’t think that someone can be Keith Kogane.

“Initializing simulation,” an officer says from where he is standing behind a control panel on the opposite end of the room. Professor Coran moves over to the monitors as well. The officer on Lance’s side crosses the room too, leaving him and Keith alone, hooked to a simulator that will be used to give Keith access to his mind.

Fuck, Keith is going to see everything. All of Lance’s memories, all of his thoughts and feelings and—he’s going to be able to read Lance’s mind.

And then Lance is going to have to deal with that for the rest of his life. Keith Kogane, the incarnation of perfection, is going to see every single flaw that Lance has. He’s going to see everything that terrifies Lance and all of his weaknesses. He’s going to—

“Initiating neural handshake,” the officer at the control panel says, and Lance gasps as he feels a sharp pinch somewhere deep in his mind.

The simulation room is ripped away and replaced with a series of black and white scenes, and it takes Lance a few seconds to realize that they’re memories. They come so quickly and are replaced so often that it almost makes Lance sick. He sees his mom and siblings, the streets in his neighborhood—

Figures that he doesn’t recognize. Two adults looming over him, too skewed in shadows to see their faces. Then, there’s a horse with a soft pelt when Lance brushes his fingers through it.

Lance’s first car; his first girlfriend smiling at him over the console.

He’s in a library that he doesn’t recognize, running his fingers over the shelves, grabbing mystery novels from the stacks. Outside in a parking lot, a fist flying toward his face, a group of boys crowded around him.

“You don’t have to do this, mijo,” his mother says, crying outside of their house.

“Congratulations, Keith! You got accepted!” The man with a scar over his nose smiles.

Empty streets, destroyed buildings. The angry roar of a Kaiju. Screaming. There’s so much screaming.

A woman looks at him and brushes his hair off his head. The language she speaks doesn’t make sense to him, but somehow he knows she’s saying Be brave, my love.

Lance’s dad. “It’s all going to be okay. I love you.”

The image of his dad forces Lance back to his senses. Holy shit. He’s—they’re. This is real! They’re connected. They’re drifting. Fuck, he and Keith are—

Holy fuck, Keith.

Lance puts the metaphorical brakes onto this car. He can’t have Keith seeing everything in his head. He just—they only need to stay connected enough for them to realize that they aren’t drift compatible. Besides, they can work with each other without knowing everything. Keith doesn’t need to know what happened to his dad. He doesn’t need to know how terrified he is of this.

He pulls up walls around himself. He visualizes a brick wall and pulls it up around everything that’s too important and special for Keith to know. He takes the image of his dad and his older sister and tucks it right into the middle in his walls.

After, when he tentatively reaches out, he can feel Keith. It’s so weird and awesome and amazing that it makes him shiver.

There’s a rough push, and Lance realizes that Keith is shoving him back. It’s almost like they’re playing tug-of-war, except they’re shoving one another farther away instead of pulling each other closer.

“Stop fucking around in my head,” Keith growls. “Take your stupid walls down.”

Lance shoves back against him just because he can. “Let’s just do this.”

“We are doing this. Take the walls down, dumbass.”

He feels Keith coming closer through the connection, crossing over into what Lance would assume is his side of their bridge. He stomps around, right up to where Lance has his walls high up and reaches into it to tear it down.

“Stop!” Lance snaps.

“You have to cooperate, you asshole. You think Jaeger pilots do this in the drift? No! They trust their fucking co-pilot!” Keith snarls, hammering at the walls that Lance has created around the most important parts of himself.

Lance shoves Keith back and reaches forward for him, and there’s a distinct flash of panic from Keith when he gets closer to Keith’s own memories and Lance thinks Ha! before diving forward.

Keith pushes back, and they wrestle against the other, trying to gain the upper hand. There are so many thoughts, feelings, memories flowing between them and around them that Lance has a hard time trying to distinguish what’s his and what’s Keith’s.

“We have to work together,” Keith spits, all kinds of angry.

“I can literally feel how much you don’t want to work with me, idiot!”

The connection between them trembles as they each try and gain more control. Keith wants to destroy all the barriers between them so they can work together; Lance wants to work with him without everything they have being lost to each other. They don’t have a common ground. There’s no way that they’re ever going to be drift compatible, Lance knew it—

“We might be!” Keith shouts, reading Lance’s thoughts like they’re his own.

“We’re not!” Lance screams right back.

The tension is heavy, it’s so tight that everything feels too hot, like he’s burning and—

Everything shatters, splinters, falls to pieces.

Lance physically jerks back, and when he blinks, he’s back in the simulation room, staring at the floor where the pedals and the magnetized drivesuit are holding him to the ground. He’s panting, trying to catch his breath, and his vision is swimming a little. He feels like he needs to sit down.

When he reaches out with his mind, he’s relieved to find that the space where Keith had been earlier is completely empty, only retaining leftover memories and feelings from the neural connection.

He risks a glance over at Keith, who looks to be in about the same state as he is. Keith is fighting to get his breath back as well, and he’s shaking a little—

And there’s blood dripping from his nose.

Lance reaches up to touch his own face, slightly horrified when he pulls his hand away to see blood on his fingertips.

“Simulation failed,” the officer speaks suddenly, and the voice forces Lance even more firmly into reality. “Neural connection terminated.”

“Get them to the infirmary and do a full physical,” Professor Coran orders in his heavy accent. The officers step forward and start unhooking them from the simulator. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Keith stumble as he takes a step forward, and despite himself, Lance does the same when he steps off the pedals.

Lance clutches the forearms of the officer and walks forward, following the other officer and Keith to the infirmary. Professor Coran continues speaking as they leave the room, but Lance’s head is still spinning. He needs all of his focus to keep his legs under him, so he doesn’t hear whatever is happening as they leave.

;;

Lance passes his physical, as usual, and he assumes Keith does the same because after they’re finished, the officers lead them into another bare room and sit them down on the same cot, leaving them with a bottle of water each.

Subtly, Lance edges away from Keith. Neither of them says anything.

A few minutes later, Professor Coran, Iverson, and a few other superior officers file into the room. Lance knows that his nose isn’t bleeding anymore, but he reaches up to swipe at his face anyway.

He’s nervous. He doesn’t know what they’re going to say. It’s pretty clear that he and Keith failed spectacularly at the simulation.

Iverson gets right to the point, “Well, boys, looks like you two failed the simulation. Congrats, you’re not drift compatible.”

Something inside Lance breaks. He was expecting to feel relieved, and while he is, he can’t help but also feel like they could have done something differently. Like maybe if they had been at a different time or place, he and Keith could have made this work. He feels like they’re failing someone, possibly the world, maybe just the two of them. He isn’t sure what he feels.

Lance forces himself not to look over at Keith.

“If it’s any consolation, it was a beautiful first drift attempt, I must say,” Professor Coran says. “The connection and the drift were both strong, despite your incompatibility. My team and I are confident that both of you will succeed in a Jaeger Program.”

“But not as co-pilots,” Keith says, and his voice is so dry that Lance can’t figure out if he’s relieved or not.

Professor Coran shakes his head, “Not as co-pilots. You two almost destroyed each other. It was quite impressive. I’ve never seen that kind of control and strength from young candidates such as yourself. After you complete your training, I’m sure you will both be wonderful pilots.”

Iverson clears his throat forcibly and says, “As promised, the two of you will receive your placement at a Shatterdome within the week. You are to continue your training with Garrison compliance up until that point. Understood?”

Lance nods. He sees Keith nod as well.

“Good luck to both of you,” Professor Coran says, biding them farewell. “I’m sure we’ll meet again in the future.”

Iverson, Professor Coran, and the other officers leave the room, and Lance sighs loudly, rubbing his hand against his temples. His head is aching.

Keith edges off the cot and drops to the ground. He takes a few steps toward the door and hesitates, like he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it. Lance thinks about the drift and how he had just been feeling everything that Keith had felt. It’s an odd thing to think about.

He says it for them, “Don’t bother, Keith.”

Keith doesn’t turn around to look at him. Instead, he nods and walks out of the room.

Lance doesn’t let it hurt. He doesn’t need Keith to be a successful Jaeger pilot. He has drift ability. Just because he wasn’t drift compatible with Keith, it doesn’t mean that he won’t be drift compatible with someone else. Someone who is better for him. Someone he can trust.

Lance doesn’t need Keith to be able to achieve his dreams. The first step is finished. He has drift ability. He even has one of the highest scores for drift ability.

In a few months, Lance will be piloting a motherfucking Jaeger with an amazing co-pilot, saving and protecting the world from the Kaiju. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him that he can do it.

He gets up from the cot and starts walking toward his future.

[donovanblackwood]

THE BASIC & COSMETICS

Full name: Donovan Blackwood 

Nickname (and who gave it to them?): Don is the way most people call him. Some of his army friends called him D.  

Date of Birth: January 25th, 1985

Age: 35

Gender/Pronouns: Male | He / Him

Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain

Eye color: Blue

Ethnicity/Nationality: He has English, Scottish and Irish roots, but is American but also is proud that he was born in Spain and tries to feel attached to the culture and the language. 

Accent (if any): Due to how many places he had been, he has a mix of accent, making it a little hard to say what part of the country he is.

Height: 6'2"

Tattoos/Piercings: So far has 5 tattoos: 1.- Arm band to remember his place of birth on his forearm 2.- A four quadrant tattoo with the initials of the members of his family on his left side 3.- One that looks like sammy’s paws is pressed against his skin on his right side 4.- Master EOD insignia on his arm.   5.-  A firefighter flag tattoo on his left bicep 

Disfigurements/Scars/Birthmarks: Has several scars due to his time in combat, he also has one on his wrist from a car crash during a race when he was 17.

Hair color: Blonde

PARENTS’ NAMES & BACKGROUND:

Father: Patton Blackwood

Mother: Lauren Blackwood

Number of Siblings (if any): 1 brother, Spencer

Relationship with Family: Very close

Do they have a significant other?: Not a romantic one that he knows of at the moment, but has a lot of important people in his life, his brother, and his fire family being the ones he could die for.

LOOKS

How do they usually dress? He is a casual guy, and has like a half lumberjack / half biker style that looks kind of like this or this.  

What do they wear to sleep? Boxers or shorts

Do they wear jewelry? I don't think it's considered jewelry but he never leaves home without his watch or a small replica of his grandfather's tag pendant

Is there anything about their appearance they wish they could change? He’s okay with his looks but he wouldn’t mind gaining little more muscle on his arms.

How would they look as the opposite sex? No idea, but probably a little like this 

What do they smell like? Why (do they wear the scent or does it occur naturally)? He likes to smell good, always, and uses Hugo by Hugo Boss cologne, not too much just enough. Is either that or smoke, if he is on a call.

Do they have an accurate mental picture of their appearance (how they see themselves versus how the world sees them)? Yeah, he thinks he does.

PERSONAL BACKGROUND:

Children of Your Own?: No

If so, relationship with their mother/father?: N/A

Age he/she gave birth/became a father/mother: N/A

Happiest Memory: The first time his grandfather let him drove his 66 Chevy Impala when he was around 12, it’s still a secret to his parents, but it was the happiest and most exciting memory.

Key Childhood Experiences: The first time he got into a fight with a much older kid, to protect his brother.

Key Teenage Experiences: Getting away with stealing his dad’s car and winning his first car race with it.

Key Adult Experiences (if applicable): Getting send away without saying any goodbye’s as a consequence to his actions and bad behavior.

RELATIONSHIPS & HISTORY:

What is their family history like? How does it affect them? How do they feel about their family? How does their family feel about them?: Is a very close family, but they are also very reserved, they don’t talk much about their demons, especially his war demons, since almost every member of the family has been a part of the military history of the country, they know a lot about them, but don’t share them much. But his family is the most important thing in his life.

What were they like as a child? What was their favorite toy? Favorite game? Playmates? What did they want to be when they grew up?: He was a very hyperactive kid that usually loved to play outside, his favorite toy was a Michelangelo, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, his soccer ball and his bike. And he always dreamed to be an Astronaut. Don didn’t have many close friends since his family was moving around, but he was always friendly.

MORE

Where does your character live? Why did they choose it, and how did they acquire it? Describe the space. He got a cheap place on Eris, when he first got into Asteria he wasn’t really thinking about staying much, so he went for the cheapest, is not the most impressive but he made a good job make it feel like a home even if it is on the lest impressive area of Asteria. Now he had been thinking about moving to an apartment Downtown cause are much as he like the house, he feels is too big for him.

What are some of your character’s more notable merits and flaws (including physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, etc.)? How did they develop? How has this helped or hindered them in the past?

How are they with technology? Good, thanks to his training on the army, he’s really skilled with technology or electronic.    

Are they specially qualified in any particular field? Would they be considered at the top of the field? He was a Sargent of the explosive ordnance disposal, so you can say so. 

Have they ever been publicly acknowledged for anything? Several for his service in the army.  One of two for his work as a firefighter.

Is there anything they’ve deliberately sought to improve at? He wants to be the firefighter he could get, cause he enjoys it a lot. 

Do they speak more than one language? English, Spanish, German, French, and Arabic.

[kennysmomstan-blog]

I Wanna Hear You Beg - Shane/Rick

Summary: Set in the second season. Rick has been treating Shane differently after he found out about him and Lori. Shane tries drinking his troubles away and happens upon his best friend while he’s drunk and horny. 

Chapter: 1/? if anyone likes this I’ll see about posting another chapter

Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, sub/dom vibes, light choking, basically just filthy smut. don’t @ me xD 

Shane sat in his tent at the farm, guzzling whiskey and thinking about how things had gotten so fucked up. He’d tried so hard to get Rick out of that hospital, but he wouldn’t move and he couldn’t carry him, not to mention all the wires he was hooked up to. The military had come in and he’d barely had time to get out of there himself. He’d felt so guilty about it, that he figured the best thing he could do for Rick would be to take care of his family. When Lori had first started to sneak into his tent at night, he told himself, he was just going to be there for her as a friend. Rick would have wanted that. When she started coming onto him, he’d thought about putting a stop to it, but in some sick way, being with Lori was as close as he would ever get to being with his best friend again. 

But then, Rick had come back, and Lori had told him they’d been sleeping together and now he was looking at him differently. Rick had started taking Daryl on runs instead of him, and going to Dale to talk about security breeches, all because he thought he was in love with Lori. Shane couldn’t bring himself to tell him he was wrong. It had been Rick all along. He finished off his bottle, tossing it into the corner of his tent, and stumbling outside to smoke a cigarette. He figured he’d do a brief check of the grounds, because he had a bad feeling about this place, heading down to the barns and almost running head first into his best friend. “Sorry.” He mumbled, taking a long drag of his cigarette. 

“S’okay.” Rick mumbled, making a face when he saw the cigarette in Shane’s hand. He’d never approved of his habits, but he’d venture to bet he wasn’t going to live long enough to die from lung cancer so why should it matter? “You smell like a brewery.”

Shane smirked at that. Even now, he could tell Rick was being cautious around him and it fucking hurt. “You running patrol with your new pal?” He asked him, aware of how sulky his voice sounded, but he was bordering drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember this in the morning, so he couldn’t be bothered enough to care. 

Rick practically rolled his eyes at Shane’s tone, leaning against the barn, his hands on his hips. “What the hell are you talking about, Shane?,” he asked, remembering how Shane only did two things when he was drunk: fucked or fought, and it seemed that tonight he was in the mood for the latter. “Think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Don’t act like I ain’t noticed you askin Daryl to go on every run with you.” Shane spat back, stubbing his cigarette out underneath his boot and reaching for another, just to piss Rick off. He was fully aware he sounded like a child, but he didn’t care.

“Just figured I’d give you and Lori some alone time,” Rick spat back, and he practically winced at his own words. “Look, he’s good. He can track and he’s quiet. That’s all I can ask for,” he muttered, moving to go around Shane and finish his perimeter walk.

He wasn’t sure which part of what Rick had said hurt him more, but he knew he wasn’t going to let him walk away from him after saying shit like that. He slammed his fist into the side of the barn and grabbed Rick’s arm, swinging him back around to face him. “We thought you were dead.” He said angrily, wanting to tell Rick that it was Lori who had started it, but somehow it didn’t feel like the right thing to do to pass the buck to his wife. 

Rick swung around wildly, pulling out of Shane’s grip. “That’s mighty considerate of you, Shane. How long did you wait? A week? Two weeks? Was I lucky enough that you waited a month?!,” he snapped at him, breathing heavily as he stared at him.

“It wasn’t like that!” Shane yelled back at him, puffing out his chest and shouldering up to his old partner. He hated talking about his feelings, especially when he was drunk, he’d rather just throw a few punches, say some mean shit and get over it the next day like usual, but Rick wasn’t that kinda guy. When he felt him turning to walk away once more, he grabbed him again, this time by the throat, and pushed him up against the wall. “Don’t fuckin walk away from me.” He snarled in his best friend’s face, close enough that he could feel his cool breath against his face. 

Rick let out a noise like all the breath was knocked out of him, glaring at Shane with defiant eyes. “Or what?,” he growled, twisting slightly in his grasp. His cock twitched slightly, and Rick tried not to think about all the times he’d imagined a scenario similar to this one, Shane pinning him to the wall. 

Shane’s brain was working at about half speed with all the liquor that he’d consumed, but there was one of two ways this could go down. He could punch Rick, hard, right in the face, which wouldn’t be the first time. He had always been a huge fucking mess when he was drunk, especially in high school. Or, he could stop acting like a scared little bitch and show Rick exactly why he was so upset that he’d been ignoring him. He tightened his hand around his friend’s throat, fully intending to go the first route, when he saw something in Rick’s eyes that almost seemed like he wanted him to kiss him. At the last second, he crashed his lips into Rick’s, his hand moving from his neck up to his face to hold him in place as he kissed him, hot and sloppy and passionately.

Rick froze for a second, his brain not comprehending what was happening. He had fully expected Shane to deck him, so when instead he felt lips against his own, he had to blink a few times. Fuck it, he thought to himself, kissing him back, his hands going to Shane’s face as he kept him there, roughing licking his way into his mouth. 

Shane was honestly a little surprised when he felt Rick's tongue against his lips. He'd expected him to punch him or at least push him off, he was married to Lori after all, but when he didn't a mix of emotions crossed Shane. First relief, then elation, and finally hunger as he pressed Rick up against the wall, covering every inch of his body with his own and pulling him into a filthy kiss, completely uncaring that they were in a public space where anyone could walk by and see them.

 “Fuck, Shane,” he gasped, his fingers tangling into Shane’s curls, keeping him pressed hotly to his mouth. He rocked his hips forward, allowing himself to just enjoy these few moments of pleasure, the way their bodies fit together and not worry about the consequences of these actions. 

The way Rick moaned out his name had his cock hard in 2 seconds flat and all he could think about was getting inside his best friend and fucking him until he came all over the wall while he was moaning his name. If he was sober, he wasn’t sure if he’d have the balls to make that happen, but as it was, he pulled back long enough to undo Rick’s pants, pushing them down to his knees and flipping him around so his front was pressed up against the rough, wooden wall. His left hand splayed between his shoulder blades, keeping him in place, the other bringing two fingers up to Rick’s mouth. “Suck.” He growled into his ear, leaving a biting kiss in the skin of his neck just below. 

Rick’s cock was already hard and leaking, trapped between his stomach and the wall. He whimpered when Shane commanded him, eagerly opening his mouth and beginning to suck on his best friend’s fingers, swirling his tongue around the digits and taking them as deep as he could into his mouth, trying to put on a bit of a show for him. 

Shane watched as Rick sucked on his fingers like he was a 20 something twink in a porno and he let out a growl from deep in his chest, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and circling them around the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. “How long have you wanted me to fuck you?” He whispered into Rick’s ear, voice low and gravelly.

Rick knew he should lie. He knew he should walk away right now, but instead he found himself arching his back and practically whimpering when Shane teased his entrance. “Since the first day of Academy,” he told him truthfully, cock twitching slightly against the wall as he remember a younger Shane coming out from the showers, wearing just a towel. 

Shane smirked at that, pressing his middle finger inside of Rick slowly and biting down on his shoulder, wanting to mark him up, but he didn't want to scare Rick away just yet. Maybe he'd wait until he was actually inside of him. "Yeah?" He asked as he pushed the digit deeper into him, angling it and trying to find the little bundle of nerves that would make him jerk underneath him. "Me too." He admitted, kissing back up the side of his neck to his ear so he could nibble at his earlobe. "I'd lay awake and think about what you'd sound like while I was fucking you into your mattress." Shane growled out, slipping his second finger inside of him. 

Rick let out a chorus of sinful moans, gasping and rocking back on his finger when he felt Shane hit that spot inside of him, his whole body erupting into goosebumps. “Fuck. Always wanted to feel you, to know what it would be like to have your cock inside me,” he panted, turning to let Shane kiss along his neck, encouraging him to be a little rougher as he fucked him with his fingers.

The smirk on Shane's lips grew wider the more debauched Rick sounded. He pulled his hand out of him and spit on his third finger, trying to add a little more lube before he lined them up and pushed them inside of him. "Why didn't you ever ask, darlin?" He purred into his skin, his voice turning sickly sweet as he started to finger him harder and faster, aiming for that spot every time. "I'da been more than happy to oblige." 

“Oh, fuck,” Rick cried out, his voice going up an octave as Shane fingered him harder and harder, his fingers curling inside of him. “Didn’t think you’d want me.” He managed to get out, groaning as he clenched around the digits inside of him, rocking his hips back and whining when his own hard cock slid against the wall.

“That’s ridiculous.” Shane chided him gently, watching as he moaned out for him, thinking that this had been better than he’d ever dreamt it could be. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered, pulling his fingers out of him again and letting up the hand that’d been holding him against the wall so he could get his own pants open just enough to pull his dripping cock out. “You ready for my cock, baby?” He asked him, his voice getting rougher and deeper as he stroked himself, spreading his precum down his length for lubricant. 

Rick’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink at Shane’s words, trying not to put too much thought into them. This was just a quick fuck for Shane, he was sure of it. “Please,” Rick whined, pushing his ass back against Shane, hole clenching when his fingers were removed. “I need it, need you,” he was babbling. 

Rick's words were spurring Shane's ego and even though he'd been dying to fuck Rick for years now, he could wait a little longer just to hear him beg. He grabbed the side of his friend's face, pushing it against the wall and running his thumb along his bottom lip, pressing the tip of his cock up against Rick's entrance, teasing him. "I wanna hear you beg for my cock, you little slut." He growled, pushing his hips into Rick's and applying enough pressure that he pushed the tip in just barely before pulling it right back out. 

Rick was whimpering and writhing like a whore, practically having tears in his eyes at the thought of being so close to have Shane’s cock, just to have it taken away again. “Please. Give me your cock, Shane.” He groaned, trying to rock his hips back against him. “I need your cock so fucking bad, please, wanna feel you inside me, want you to fuck me.” He whimpered obscenely. 

"My good boy." Shane purred, not wasting any time as he thrusted up into Rick, cursing when his cock was immersed in Rick's tight, wet heat. "Fuck, baby. You're so tight." He moaned out, watching his face carefully, wanting to see exactly what he looked like when he was filled up. 

Rick just gasped when he was filled so suddenly, leaning his head back so it was resting on Shane’s shoulder. He just whimpered, clenching experimentally around the cock inside of him before groaning. “Fuck me. Please.” He begged, rolling his hips to try and give his poor neglected cock some attention. 

Shane moved his hand from Rick's face up to his throat, tightening it a little as he began to fuck him, placing his free hand on the wall beside them to brace himself. "God, you're so fuckin' pretty when you beg, sweetheart." He told him, his voice strained with the effort it was taking to fuck his best friend, trying not to think about all the time they wasted when they could have been doing this. 

Jesus, Shane’s words were going straight to his cock. It was leaking steadily, smearing precome across his stomach as he rocked his hips slowly, not bothering to try and keep speed with Shane’s thrusts. He grunted slightly at the pressure on his throat, biting down on his bottom lip as he screwed his eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure that came with each thrust. 

"Don't get shy on me now, darlin." Shane smirked, turning Rick's head so he was looking at him over his shoulder. "Tell me how my cock feels inside of you." He demanded, biting at his earlobe and moving down to leave a sloppy hickey just beneath his ear, tasting the salty sweat that had dripped down his neck from the Georgia heat. 

“Feels so fucking good,” he whined, gasping when Shane sucked hard at his neck. “God, m’so fucking full, you’re so fucking big,” he was panting now, trying to grab onto something, to no avail, so he just pressed his palms against the concrete, allowing himself to get fucked into next week. 

Shane tried to fuck Rick harder, but he didn't have the right grip on him so he took a step back, pulling Rick with him and putting his free hand on his back. He pushed him down so that Rick was bent over, still bracing himself against the wall, both of Shane's hands going to Rick's hips, gripping them tight and using his grip to pull his hips back as he slammed into him. The sound of their skin slapping against eachother filled the silence in the air, along with both of their grunts in pleasure. 

Rick arched his back and lifted his hips slightly, crying out at the new angle. Shane was so deep inside of him, hitting his prostate with every other thrust. “Fuck,” he moaned, reaching down to start stroking himself, clenching tightly around Shane’s cock as he did so. “I’m gonna cum soon.” He whimpered, mouth hanging open slightly. 

Shane liked this new angle, but he also was craving Rick's lips on his. Not to mention, he wanted to be the one stroking that pretty cock when he came. He reached up to knock his hand away from his cock, his hand going right back to Rick's hip as he continued to fuck him as hard as he could. "Don't cum until I tell you you can." He ordered, leaning over Rick and trying to push his cock deeper into him, practically able to feel the strength leaving Rick's arms as they gave more and more with each stroke. 

Rick honest to God whined when Shane moved his hand away and told him he couldn’t cum just yet. He just nodded his head, rocking back against Shane’s thrusts and trying to keep himself upright, hands against the wall. “Please,” he breathed out, not even sure what he was begging for at this point.

Shane fucked him for another couple minutes, waiting until he was on the edge himself before reaching down to take a handful of Rick's hair and dragging him back up so his back was pressed flush against his chest. He wrapped his free hand around his best friend's cock, starting to stroke it in time with his punishing thrusts, sliding the hand that was in his hair around to hold him up by his chest and pinching playfully at his nipples. "Cum for me, my sweet boy." Shane purred, kissing down his chin to his lips and pressing his tongue into his mouth. 

The second the words left Shane’s mouth, Rick was cumming. His release painted the walls of the barn, covering Shane’s hand as well as he clenched impossibly hard around the cock inside of him. “Shane,” he sobbed against his lips, kissing him messily, wanting to feel his best friend come inside of him. 

The way Rick clenched around his cock when he came mixed with the way he was practically sobbing his name sent Shane over the edge faster than he'd expected and he came with a grunt inside of Rick. His hips finally slowed as he pressed him back up against the wall, reaching up to grab Rick's face with the hand covered in his cum, pulling him into a sloppy, exhausted kiss and pulling back to slip one of his fingers into his best friend's mouth, watching with an almost sick fascination. 

Rick was completely fucked out. He sucked lazily at the fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them so he could clean them off completely. He reached back with one hand to grab at Shane’s hip, keeping him close. “Don’t pull out yet,” he whimpered, taking his fingers back into his mouth with a soft hum, eyes fluttering closed. 

Shane could feel his length twitch with interest inside of Rick when he sucked on his fingers like that, imagining what those lips would look like wrapped around his cock. He followed instructions, though, staying seated deep inside of Rick's ass and starting to finger his mouth when the other man closed his eyes, watching them sliding in and out slowly and eventually pulling them out to catch his lips in a deep kiss, tasting Rick's cum on his tongue. "God, you're fucking perfect you know that? My good little slut." He hummed, reaching down to stroke Rick's spent cock a couple more times, wanting to feel him squirm against him. 

Rick gasped against his lips, writhing under his touch and feeling his cock twitch slightly in Shane’s hand. “Fuck. All yours,” he muttered, too blissed out to care about the words he was saying. He pressed up against Shane, giving him a few more rounds of messy kisses, not wanting to pull away even to breathe. He just needed Shane. 

Shane laughed bitterly, the harsh reality coming crashing back down when Rick said he was 'his'. He was about to open his mouth to debate that fact when he heard footsteps coming their way. He pulled out of Rick quickly, stuffing himself back into his pants and hissing for Rick to pull his pants up, barely turning the corner before they saw Dale heading their way. "Hey fellas. I heard some noise over here, so I thought I'd come check it out. Everythin okay?" He asked and Shane had never wanted to punch someone more in his life so he figured he'd let Rick take the lead on this one. 

Rick visibly winced when Shane pulled out of him so quickly, but he pulled his pants up nonetheless, thankful he was clothed when they saw Dale. “Yeah, Dale. We’re fine. Just doin’ a perimeter check.” He chuckled softly, hoping that was a good enough excuse for the older man.

"Guess we all got that same idea." Dale laughed and Shane clenched his fists hard at his side, trying to keep a straight face and not yell at him for breaking the spell between them. He was sure that Rick would wisen up and regret what they'd done now that he had a clear head, so he just ducked his head and nodded at both of them and headed off with nothing more than a "Night."

“Yeah. Night.” Rick said as he watched him go, wondering where they were supposed to go from there.  

[b-kitsune]

Many ways to say I love you: Day Ten.

Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: Astound. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Post-Kerberos AU. Status: Complete.

He watched the street lights move quickly out of the car window, like shapeless flashes that were left behind the road, somehow helping him to forget for a few seconds that he was on his way to the home of one of his officers. Keith didn't have cheers to start a conversation with the guy who had practically not closed his mouth all the way, once they had sat in the back seats of the car, too annoying and noisy for his comfort, and it had already become clear that he felt a strange hostility towards him, without understanding the reason very well. Shiro had mentioned his name at some point during the evening, but honestly, he didn't take much notice.

Keith didn't want to go to that dinner tonight. He didn't want to meet Officer Holt outside the Garrison. Although Shiro had mentioned to him that he was one of the few high-ranking adults who didn't feel rejected by his presence, part of Keith still maintained skepticism about this fact.

He couldn't help thinking about it, basically, everyone had hated him as soon as Shiro helped him into Garrison cause of his short temperament and lack of military lineage, Keith had only been a lucky boy and had some talent to pilot the ship in the way. And he didn't understand very well what to do at a family dinner, Shiro didn't give him any further instructions beyond behaving and being kind to the Holt family.

How could he be nice to people he didn't know? He had only had a brief moment with Mathew Holt a few months ago, who started talking to Shiro about the results of the investigations they found on Kerberos' ice. Then he simply disappeared from his sight, giving him a kind smile when he saw it by chance.

If only Keith had avoided fighting the boy by his side, he wouldn't have to deal with this. It was a punishment that Shiro and Officer Holt had disguised as an opportunity to strike up a more pleasant relationship with their own comrades.

''Still a long way to go, Shiro?''

''No, we'll arrive in a couple of minutes, Lance.'' Keith mentally repeated his name in case he needed to remember during the night. Lance simply started jumping excitedly in his own seat.

''I've heard a lot about Officer Holt in Garrison, although I've never spoken to him directly since science doesn't call me too much, it's like the gentleman everyone loves.''

''He is a kind person like Matt, they are loved because they have a nice sense of humor and impeccable principles. I have never had major problems with them, even when we were in space.'' He answered with simplicity. What he left thinking to Lance for a few seconds.

''I heard that Officer Holt has a younger daughter who will nominate Garrison for the next year, is that true?'' He asked excitedly, to Shiro's confusion and Keith's displeasure, who could realize his intentions under that tone of voice.

''Wow, apparently the news spread quickly.'' He joked, with a tone of concern that didn't go unnoticed by either of them. ''Yeah, Katie will be applying to enter as a pilot candidate next year. In fact... That's why you accompany me tonight.''

''Why?'' Keith inquired confused. Shiro just sighed heavily. Maybe things would go better if they knew ahead of time.

''She ... She has had certain physical encounters with her current high school classmates, which has severely worried me and Samuel in the last time.''

''What do you mean with…?''

''They broke her arm two months ago.''

''Woow ... That's pretty cruel'' It was the only thing that could come out of Lance's lips. Keith, however, was perplexed. Not even he, being as he was, had gone through those situations before or after Garrison.

''We thought it would be a good idea for her to meet some people before entering her first year, and since both are in the program and they owe me the favor of avoiding their suspension for their last meeting...''

''I understood; this is a classic situation of extortion.'' Lance joked with a slight smile between his lips.  ''Don't worry, I'll sacrifice myself for a greater good.''

''Keith?'' He nodded without saying a word in between, he knew very well what it was like to be attacked without having someone to protect himself with. While tonight didn't imply that they became friends, at least one familiar face would ease the burden for the first few days, it was something he could do. Shiro smiled through the rearview mirror. ''I'm glad to know that I have your support.''

''I never expected you to be so close to Officer Holt.''

''Well, we spent together in space for several months, and he's been one of the people that has most influenced my recovery after that.''

Keith reacted to his last comment, intrigued. Taking into consideration that since his return he wasn't wearing that bracelet that sounded every certain amount of time, which he had seen many times during his outings. Keith supposed it would be a good thing.

Shiro never talked about matters involving negative news, so commenting with Lance so easily gave him the idea that his muscle problem was being treated effectively.

They stopped at the entrance of a well-kept house, where the room was lit and a couple of voices echoed inside, Keith thought it nice to see a wide variety of flowers covering the front garden, which stretched behind the house. Before going down, Shiro looked at them seriously.

''While I usually dine occasionally with the Holt family and tonight is to make Katie feel more familiar with Garrison, I don't want to end up in trouble because you don't know how to behave like adults.'' The plaintiff claimed but quickly changed to an accessible position by sighing with regret. ''Just try to be nice, okay?''

''I will behave.'' Lance answered immediately. Shiro looked at Keith, waiting for his response.

''All right, Shiro''

''Well, that's enough.''

As they walked towards the entrance, the sound of a piano resounded through the walls with more force, drawing the attention of the three, Lance and Keith were baffled at the thought of thinking of the officer or his son playing an instrument in the privacy of his family. Matt, who was sitting on the window, opened the curtain slightly to watch them walk home as soon as he heard his dog barking, getting up quickly.

The door opened immediately, showing Matt in simple clothes that gave an air of comfort. Before Shiro even said anything, he greeted them quickly and invited them with a gesture on his hand to keep quiet.

The three without understanding complied without protest.

I will always, think of you

I see your face when each day's through

As soon as they heard a voice inside the room, they understood what it was about. Officer Holt was singing a tune with his family.

And days go past

Oh so fast

But memories, they last

A soft feminine voice confused them notoriously, except Shiro, who approached enthusiastically to the room that led them, Matt. Keith and Lance looked at each other without understanding very well why his mentor's sudden change of attitude, but as soon as they saw her, their faces turned into deep amazement.

Summer Winter, year by year

I'll hear the song inside my ear

Trying to restart

That would be smart

The thoughts of you haunt my heart

Keith used to ignore women most of the time. While he seemed to have some appeal to the opposite sex, he generally didn't worry much about it, having more important things to worry about during his day-to-day life. But at that moment, it was the first time that the beauty of a woman astonished him to the point of flushing completely.

Katie was a low and notoriously thin girl, so much so, that while listening to her singing along with her father, she thought that she could take it effortlessly with just one arm. Her green dress was simple and nothing to write home about, but elegantly accentuated the natural tone of her hair, a light brown that, in suitable light, she thought could easily be golden, as it was with her brother.

I do not want to be alone now

Just bidding my time

I need somebody dearly

And darling you'd be sublime

Both were perfectly coordinated while Samuel played a simple melody with his fingers on an old piano, but Keith was not paying attention to Officer Holt, he saw himself unable to look away from his daughter, who bristled every pore of her skin with the sweetness of her voice, curiously, was much deeper than he could think at first glance of someone so tiny and small.

Keith was fascinated. As in a spell that had completely astounded him

Spring and Autumn

Up and down

I keep trying to escape this town

And I just might I'll take flight ...

As soon as Katie turned her gaze to the corridor and met his eyes, she was enveloped in a strong chill that ran down her back, scaring him for a moment, but she, with only a cheeky smile, finished the song after a few seconds on pause.

Maybe tomorrow, not tonight

 ...

 ''So, you come from Cuba, you must miss your family a lot.''

''Yeah, although I see my sister frequently in Garrison.''

Katie sighed heavily as soon as her gaze connected with Shiro, who apologized in silence while tasting her mother's salad. The intentions of him and her father had been so easy to assume that she was offended intellectually for a moment.

It is not as if it affected her at that point to be the object of mockery of all her companions with the little time she had left in high school, and the fracture of her radio hadn't been as serious as they supposed the first time, in a month already Katie was completely healthy without any consequences. But she knew that during the last conversations with Shiro, he hadn't quite agreed.

Part of her was touched by being so protected by someone like him, whom she admired about all people, even her father.

Besides, there was something in her inside that she couldn't understand yet, which heated and exalted to a strange level as soon as her eyes connected with those of the dark-haired guy.

He had seen her, not like Lance, who only managed to give a timely compliment after finishing singing with his father.

He was looking at her, stunned and confused about what to say when she was caught in her presentation. For the first time in her life, Katie had been enveloped in the astonishment of someone who wasn't her family, which generated a pleasant feeling of rejoicing.

''Katie, you've barely said a word, is everything okay?'' Questioned her worried mother, although she noticed the double intention of her words. Colleen was forcing her to talk to the guests, but she didn't feel ready yet.

''Yes, I am.'' She answered without more while chewing a piece of meat to stop responding, noticeably bothering Colleen, Matt simply sighed heavily.

''Keith and Lance are in the second year of the pilot program, right? Did you like it?''

Katie directed her attention to them with something more of interest. If they were in the pilot program it meant that they would see them more often the following year, so the assumption that Shiro had brought them to meet her was accurate.

Again, while the appointed Lance laughed with something that Matt had commented, those dark eyes fell on her, unable to look away this time.

The first impression she gave was an emo boy in all his glory. He had a heavy face that implied a rejection of the first contact, and a badly-groomed hair that even Lance had mentioned as "nasty mullet" under his breath in the night, hoping he wouldn't be heard by anyone. Katie was intrigued with him in more ways than one, something in his eyes, although he was hostile later during dinner, she was reflected in those feelings.

Something in him, he called her with an indecipherable feeling that warmed her aching heart, although she didn't know what name to place it at that moment. What made her increase her attention to those deep eyes to discover what it was.

Maybe it was the so-called chemistry? Although she couldn't know, since Shiro had been her only friend with whom she could feel it for the first time, with Keith, she had the assumption that it was something different.

As soon as Matt touched her shoulder to draw her attention to a question directed at her, Katie quickly averted her nervous gaze, hoping no one had noticed that she had been watching him more than necessary.

For a moment she assumed that everything was in order as soon as they returned to direct the conversation towards her father. When she saw Keith again, he only smiled slightly while he continued to eat from his plate, she imitated his action, her face slightly warm and somewhat disappointed to lose her look, without knowing very well the reason.

But something told her, that not only was she intrigued by other people's eyes.

Certainly, after that night, Katie was much more interested in attending Garrison, if with that she could name what she was feeling.

After all, she was a woman of science.

[danyka-fendyr]

Remind Me: Part 2

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, the much-anticipated part 2 is out! At least, I’m assuming it was much anticipated given the feedback from Dream. Which is basically the best feedback ever. If you haven’t read her story Once A Year yet (which this series is based upon) you really, really should! It’s amazing and it gives me all the feels.  However, you don’t want to hear me talk. You want to read the story. So without further ado, allons-y!

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines

Wordcount: 2409

“I know, Billy,” You said. “I know.”

Eventually, they told you that you could go. You had to be honest with yourself, it was a relief. You weren’t super keen on being tied up to a million machines all the time.

Billy helped you out, and you followed him without a second thought. You probably should have been concerned with how blindly you trusted him, but that was the thing about blind trust. You didn’t question it.

“So where do I live?,” You asked him. “With you?”

That caught him off guard, which you had somehow known it would.

“Um...no. You have an apartment in the nice part of town.”

“And you?”

“I have an apartment.”

“In the nice part of town?” You pushed, raising an eyebrow.

“Something like that.”

“You’re lying to me. And you’re not even bothering to do a good job of it.”

That made him laugh again. “There’s no point with you. Even when you can’t remember me you apparently have an uncanny ability to remember all of my tells.”

You just shrugged, unwilling to admit that you were a little bit proud of yourself for that, however dumb it might be.

“So? Where do you live?”

“In the not so nice part of town. Where I like to be.”

“I see I’ve tried to convince you to move before.”

“Many times.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, you know what they say. The amnesiac time is the charm.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Sure Skittles. I’ll move in with you and be like one of those live-in helpers old people have.”

“I mean, why not?” You turned around in the parking lot you had just arrived in, facing him.

“Why not what?”

“Why not have you move in with me? I mean, it only makes sense since apparently, you’re the mysterious key to my past.”

Billy Russo stared at you like you had grown another head.

“You don’t even know anything about me-”

“So you can tell me on the drive. Is that your car?” You spun towards the cherry red Stringray Corvette, eyes absolutely huge.

“No. It’s yours.”

“What!” You screamed, jumping up and down. “She’s gorgeous! Holy crap!”

Billy watched you, smiling and shaking his head. “Damn. I haven’t seen you this happy since you graduated high school and, quote, ‘never had to go back to that place.’ Though personally I still miss the uniform.”

“Perv.”

“Only around you. What can I say Skittles? You just bring out the worst in me.” He smiled, white teeth gleaming against his skin.

“Filed under Billy Russo in my brain. Now, give me the keys because there’s no way I’m letting you drive her.”

“Oh come on!” He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated.

“Nope. No way.”

“Not even when you have amnesia will you let me drive the car,” he grumbled.

“Not even if I was dead.”

“Remind me why I’m friends with you?” he asked.

“Because I’m pretty,” you told him, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Oh right.”

20 minutes later, you were officially outside the nicest apartment complex you had ever seen. Well, you couldn’t remember the other apartment complexes you had seen, but suffice it to say it was pretty sweet.

“Do you think there’s a doorman?” You asked, unbuckling.

“I think,” Billy said, knuckles still white from his grip on the armrests, “that you still drive like a madwoman.”

“Oh don’t be a baby. You were in the military, I’m sure you’ve faced worse.”

“I have never faced worse than you ducking into opposing traffic because the guy in front of you was driving ‘too slow.’”

“He was!” You closed your door, locking the car after Billy got out.

“Not slow enough to justify that!”

“You’re no fun.”

“Funny. That’s not usually how these conversations go.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and you tried not to stare. You were seriously going to need someone to explain to you how exactly you had never romantically pursued this guy. He might have been even prettier than the car.

“Are you trying to tell me I’m the boring one?”

“Yes Skittles. That is exactly what I’m trying to tell you. You are a major stick in the mud.”

You gasped theatrically. “How dare you! I don’t believe a single thing you’ve said.”

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth. Ask anyone.”

“I wouldn’t know who to ask,” You reminded him.

His smile softened.“Don’t worry. I’ll introduce you.”

You both started to head inside, discovering that there was indeed a doorman, and he gave you a nod as he opened the door for you. Apparently, he recognized you. Either that or you just looked rich, which was entirely possible given the clothing Billy had brought for you at the hospital. You hoped your entire wardrobe didn’t look this...stuffy.

You waited until you got on the empty elevator to ask Billy the question that had been on your mind. “So uh...which floor do I live on? And like...which apartment?”

“You sure you’re ready for this?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Um...yes?”

He grinned. “Penthouse, baby.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not even a little bit,” he said, pressing the button.

“How did all of this even happen?”

“You got adopted by some very rich people. They’re the worst. They hate me,” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Why would they hate you? And why do you live in a crappy apartment even though you wear very expensive suits like that?”

“They hate me because I’m not a socialite and also they can’t boss me around, which is a bad combo in their book. And I live in a crappy apartment because I like it there. Besides, it’s not that bad of an apartment, it’s just the neighborhood that’s terrible.”

You nodded like you understood, though in fact the only thing you really understood was that your adopted parents really, really didn’t like him. Billy had already explained your foster situation too, which based off of what little you could remember sounded about right.  You were still confused about what exactly your parents were like though. You did know that if Billy was at all right you weren’t excited to meet them. Again.

The elevator doors dinged open, and you stepped out into the most beautiful apartment of all time. It was absolutely huge, and there were a million windows. The only thing you might have changed about it was that it didn’t feel very...personal. You got the sense that you had just hired some fancy pants decorator to design the place. Everything was sleek and modern and...totally lifeless.

The color scheme was nice though.

“So, you own some big fancy corporation?” You asked, sitting down on your cushy white couch.

Who even owned white coaches made out of what you hoped was fake leather?

“Sure do.”

Billy went straight for your fridge. It was clear that he had been here before as he shuffled through its contents, taking some chicken breast out before pulling open the freezer drawer and grabbing brussels sprouts.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding you. You just got out of the hospital and the only thing they do well there is jello. You hate jello. Except for the red stuff.”

You shuddered. “Ugh. Jello.”

“See?” He pulled a pan out of a cupboard adjacent to the sink.

“I believe you. Please don’t make me eat Jello.”

“I would never torture you like that, Skittles.”

“Wow, you really are my best friend, huh?”

He smiled over his shoulder at you. “What gave it away?”

“The fact that you know where my cast iron skillets are.”

He laughed, further proving himself by grabbing a bottle of olive oil to coat the pan in before tossing on the chicken.

“One dinner coming right up, best friend.”

“Okay, so wait. Catch me up here. You’re rich. You can cook. And your butt looks like that,” You said, giving it a good hard look and not bothering to hide where you were looking. “Explain to me why we’re not dating?”

“Because,” he said, flipping the chicken, “you’re like my little sister. And I’m like your big brother.”

“Except we are in no way biologically related, meaning that relationship could change.”

You were just teasing him, of course. I mean, to a certain extent the part about him being hot was true, but you weren’t trying to harass the guy. The thing was, you could tell that he was having just as much fun as you were. In the same way you knew you could trust Billy Russo, you knew that he was laughing his head off inside by the slight tug at the corners of his mouth, the twinkle in his eyes, and the way he couldn’t seem to look directly at you for more than 5 seconds without being afraid he would burst out laughing. You may have forgotten him, but you still knew him.

“Technically true,” he said, trying to hide his grin behind a healthy dose of skepticism.

“Psh. Technically?”

“Sometimes, Skittles, technicalities are important.” He threw some garlic in with the chicken.

“You know what’s even more important? Feeding me. Because now that my kitchen smells like garlic chicken, I’m starving.” You stood up from the couch, moving to lean against the counter and watch him cook, biting your lip.

You were a lot hungrier than you had initially thought. The hospital had not been kind to you.

“I am working on it,” he said scoldingly.

“But I’m hungry,” you whined.

He tossed the brussels sprouts in with some seasoning salt. “Hi hungry. I’m Billy.”

“You pronounced, ‘the worst’ wrong.”

He snorted. “Still have the same sense of humor, I see.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s permanent. Sorry Bill.”

“Yeah, you should be apologizing. That sense of humor has gotten me in trouble more than a few times, you know that?”

“No way. You’re exaggerating.” You rolled your eyes.

“Nope. You’ll know when I’m exaggerating. Or maybe you won’t. I’m very good at it.”

“Jerk.”

“You can’t seem to decide if you love me or hate me.”

“So I’m guessing not much has changed.”

His response was simply, “Jerk.”

“So, tell me.” You settled in, turning so that your back was leaning against the counter and you had a better view of his face. “How on Earth did we manage to stay friends this long? I mean, nobody does that. Especially not people with life trajectories as drastically different as ours. How do I know you’re not really my stalker?”

Billy chuckled, in a very stalker-ish way, if anyone asked you. “I suppose that’s a fair cop. Well, we agreed when we were just kids, that no matter what happened, we would always meet up once a year. Every year. No matter what. Come rain or shine, hell or high water, what have you, I would come find you.”

“That’s not dialing down the creepiness Billy,” You teased.

He put the food on a plate, setting it on the island where you took your place on one of the stools.

“That’s some way to talk to the guy who just made you dinner.”

“I’ll decide if you can stay after I’ve tasted it.”

“Oh, she’s a food critic now.”

Billy watched you take your first bite, hands on his hips with one eyebrow raised. You were pleasantly surprised. This guy could really cook. The chicken tasted amazing, and the spices he had thrown in hit all the right notes. When had he even learned this?

“On a visit home. I got so tired of rations that I decided I would learn how to make something that didn’t taste like a brick.”

Apparently, you had said that part out loud. You couldn’t be blamed for what you did under the influence of good food.

“So were we more alike when we were younger or something? Because the way you describe it, we aren’t super similar at the moment.”

“I don’t know if I would say that.” Billy put the pan in the sink before sitting down across from you. “We’re still pretty similar in all the ways that matter. Back when we were kids though...”

He smiled fondly, as though reminiscing on some very specific memory. You had the overwhelming urge to join him, but you couldn’t, seeing as you currently had little to no memories in the bank. So instead, you let him have his moment, having a melancholy little moment of your own.

“You were a bit of a wild child. I was always getting you out of trouble. And then...getting into my own trouble. But that’s not the point!”

You laughed, taking another bite before you spoke again. “So basically we were both terrible people.”

“Harsh,” Billy said. “I would say we were...misguided youth.”

“Mmmhhhmm.”

“I still remember this time you stole a pair of handcuffs off this cop you were flirting with.” He shook his head, grinning. “We almost didn’t outrun him. And then you suggested we turn the handcuffs into bracelets, of all things. One for each of us. You thought you were so cool in your Metallica shirt with your handcuff bracelet, dancing in the rain like you didn’t have a care in the world.”

“Okay, so, correction. I was awesome, and you were a misguided youth.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You smiled, and you found yourself staring at him without really thinking about it. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you liked the feel of it. It was yet another thing that affirmed he was not, in fact, your stalker. Though if you had any doubts before they were pretty much dismissed at this point. Plus he would have to be a pretty gifted stalker to get the hospital to let him get anywhere near you, you figured.

“Hey, do you-” You started speaking, but the buzz of the intercom interrupted you.

“Darling, I’m here to see you.” A woman’s voice crackled through the speakers, probably in her 50’s or 60’s. “So sorry I couldn’t make it to the hospital. You know how it is, your father and I just get so busy with business. Anyway, if you could just let me up...”

“I think that’s the nicest I’ve ever heard her be to you,” Billy grumbled. “There must be someone watching.”

“Who is it?” You asked, even as a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach gave you your answer.

“It’s your mother.”

[shadow-and-quill]

LF RP: Ritsuka Aoki (Coeurl/Crystal)

BASICS

Age: 24 (nameday unknown)

Race:  Miqo’te, Keeper of the Moon

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Marital Status: Single (not looking)

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

“A handsome man of composed dignity with not a hair out of place and a confidence that does not teeter into arrogance.”

Hair/Fur: Black with a light wave, falls to mid-back. While at work, is tied up in a high tail or bun. While at ease, usually in a loose braid. Both hair and fur are meticulously groomed and clean.

Eyes: Lavender, wears glasses to correct his blurry right eye.

Height: 5′7′’

Build: Fair-skinned with a long-furred tail. Slender but with a dancer’s build that is easily covered with his clothing style (Eastern robes). Walks with perfect posture with a slight limp on cold or rainy days.

Distinguishing Marks: Tattooed black mark on his forehead. A thin scar over his right eye and small scar on left cheek near his chin. Lashing scars on back. Five ilm scar inside right thigh. More recent scars just over his belly button and back of left leg.

Common Accessories: Glasses and occasionally a fan (which doubles as an idiot-whacking device).

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

PERSONAL

“For an ijin to rise in the bakufu like he did, he’s either very smart or very good at ‘favors.’“

Profession: Quartermaster of Suiren Temple, Head of Consulate Engagements, Hingan Bakufu (former)

Hobbies: Reading (historical and non-fiction), alchemy (medicines and poisons), flower arranging

Languages: Hingan/Doman, Eorzean, sign language, small bits from others

Residence: His flower shop located off the Kogane-dori markets main streets

Birthplace: Limsa Lominsa

Religion: None

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Loss of control/power, losing Saeha, being found by old enemies

————— ♦ • ♦ —————  

RELATIONSHIPS

“Aoki in a relationship? All the hells would freeze over first.”

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Ohki (mother, deceased), father unknown

Siblings: Saeha (half-sister, 10)

Other Relatives: None known

Pets: Kage (black hayate pup)

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

TRAITS

“A man that doesn’t hesitate to state his opinion but isn’t foolish enough to not listen to others. Composed, judging, it’s as if he’s a military commander assessing the field.”

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Prefers quiet and solitude

Able to ‘fake it til he makes it’ due to his profession which involves social networking

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

While calm on the surface, most of his behavior is determined by deep-rooted anxieties driven by a life of powerlessness

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

He knows the value of when to put aside his opinion if a smarter alternative is presented

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

A true politician, he knows when to sit back and listen

However he does not do well with fools and he’s quick to point out if appropriate

Leader / In Between / Follower

He knows his place in a ranking system and adheres to it

When needed, can step forward and lead effectively

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

He doesn’t strive to break norms

But does not stray from pushing things when advantageous to his goals (aka an ijin government worker)

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Not a stranger to using people, associates are only around as long as they are needed and not a moment more

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Once earned

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

Kugane Dweller: Where Ritsuka came from before ascending the ranks quickly within the bakufu’s offices it unknown to most. Support for him is split. Elder traditionalists are against a foreigner having the power he does but those that work with the miqo’te know that his managerial skills and intellect are a boon especially as Hingashi opens more and more to the outside world once more.

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

RP HOOKS

Diplomat - Though he’s ascended above a simple clerk’s level within the last few moons, Ritsuka frequently meets with foreign businesses and contract-holders establishing themselves in Kugane and Hingashi as a whole.

Shop Owner - Though his government work keeps him into the long hours, Ritsuka does enjoy working at his modest flower shop with Saeha. The open hours are erratic but all of his wares are fairly priced and excellently tended to.

Lurker of the Night - Ritsuka isn’t above getting his hands dirty or using tricks to get what he needs. Trained in shinobi arts, he slinks about the city’s high roofs on most nights. Though he tends to avoid confrontation on these lil missions, he’s capable of defending himself when needed.

(spoilers) Those with ties with Limsan pirates may know of him. The brothel he born into tattoos all of their slaves and Ritsuka is still marked on the inside of his forearms with the Serpent Sons’ black serpent sigil. He usually keeps them covered with long sleeves or leather bracers.

(spoilers) Dwellers of Limsa Lominsa that attended high class parties may have seen Ritsuka perform. As the top earner of The Pearl, he was frequently rented out to nobles’ parties as a dancer, entertainer, and company in both a more proper role and more risque ones depending on the atmosphere. He’s been gone from that life for six years now.

————— ♦ • ♦ ————— —  

LOOKING FOR

Long-term relationships. Not necessarily romantic. Ritsuka is very difficult to get through to beyond casual meetings so I do warn that it will take time and patience. I’m unwilling to compromise his character but things can be discussed OoC if needed. I’m quite open to that, in fact!

Try to woo him if you will but you’d likely be met with an annoyed glare.

Information-trading, contract work is something he can take on the side if paid well enough but he will be primarily concerned with his own safety first.

Mature/violent/political RP are all on the table. ERP is going to most likely be a ‘no.’ Though Ritsuka uses his body to get what he needs, he doesn’t sleep around just for fun. It’s simply another tool to use.

Discord and in-game are both welcome.

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

CONTACT INFORMATION

Main Tumblr: @ritsuka-aoki

Discord: Bluebird#2389

I work a standard Mon-Fri schedule during the day so my evenings/weekends are best times to meet!

Don’t be afraid to boop me on either Discord or Tumblr. I may not reply right away but I’ll be sure to send some time of response!

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 2

Being an undercover officer is a dangerous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous  undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,941

Warnings: Violence, cursing

When I get restless, what can I do? When I need someone, I think about you I got to move on, not fade away I'm only just growin' a little each day

I got to quit this runnin' 'round Never gonna get rid of these blues I got to find somebody to love Slow me down, yeah Look out now

(x)

Flip was perpetually single by choice. The work he did as an undercover officer was dangerous and not always easy to explain. Dating anyone would just be too complicated. It was better to just have flings, no strings attached. Or at least that's what he told himself as he sat at the bar for the third time that week.

It's not like he was waiting for Eliana to walk in the door and pick up their conversation where they left off. He was just there to have a beer. He had one every night anyway to let some steam off from his job, granted it was usually at home. But why not get out a little bit? He could use the change of scenery. And if she happened to drop by, that was cool too.

The front door would open and his eyes would dart to the entrance, watching to see who was walking in. A man would come in, stumbling off his shift to find solace between work and home. A few women had walked in that night, laughing as they sat at a table near the front. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a head of brown hair. He is excitement was quickly settled when the woman turned her head and Elle's face wasn't there.

He would catch himself thinking about her from time to time at work. He'd remember her soft brown curls falling in her face. How her big brown eyes seemed to light up when she laughed. How talking to her was like talking to an old friend. But he could stop himself from thinking about her anytime he wanted, he was just indulging himself. He wasn't going to get caught up on a girl he didn’t even get into bed with.

But by the end of the night, he felt properly defeated. She wasn't gonna come back, it had just been wishful thinking. He finished his beer and flagged down the bartender to pay his tab.

"I was in here with a girl a couple days ago. She had brown hair and was wearing a white turtleneck?" He figured it wouldn't hurt to try to ask the bartender, a last ditch effort.

"Yeah I remember," the bartender said, taking Flip's money.

"Have you seen her around since?" He tried to play it cool. Not make it obvious that she's the reason he wasn't in his apartment drinking Coors and watching tv right now like any other self-respecting man on a Sunday night.

"Can't say I have, sorry bud,"

Flip nodded his thanks and put a good tip on the bar counter before heading out. It was a warm night outside, the street had a few people still wandering about. He walked to his car, a beat up Chevy pick up truck, and slid in the drivers seat. The engine rumbled to life and he began his slow drive home.

He tried not to think of her as he weaved through the streets of Colorado Springs. It had just been one night. One girl on one night, nothing special. There would be other girls, he told himself. He never had any trouble with that. He parked his car in the lot for his apartment and made his way upstairs.

His place was pretty small, and decidedly bachelor's pad. It was sparsely decorated, with just some mementos from his time in the military and a few family photos. It was a little messy, with casework papers strewn across his couch and coffee mugs lining his kitchen counter. He never had women over, so there wasn't much of a need to keep it tidy.

He'd always go to his hookup's place, it was easier that way. The next morning he could wake up and say he was late to work and rush out before any other plans could be made. Flip hadn't made it to a third date in the last year or so, ditching it before it could get too serious.

He stripped off his button down and slacks before collapsing into bed. He lay under the covers, listening to the city outside his window. It was dark aside from a few streetlights below illuminating the pavement. It felt lonely sometimes, coming home to nothing in particular. He'd catch himself thinking about coming home to a girl cooking dinner for the two of them, smiling as he came through the door. He never really had a particular girl in mind, it was more of a dream than anything.

But this night, that girl had brown hair and big brown eyes.

He shoved the thought from his head and went to sleep.

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

The next morning him and his partner had to drive out to the hospital. He met up with Jimmy at the station before the two of them took his Chevy to the coffee shop. After they had their paper cups of coffee fisted in their freezing hands, they made their way to their objective: St. Francis Medical Center.

Flip's last undercover case had gone smoothly enough. Everyone was arrested and were heading to court for drug charges. There was just one exception. One of the dealers he'd been with had tried to grab a gun off an officer and run for it. In the process, he shot at a cop, missed, and jumped off a fire escape, seriously injuring himself. He was currently sitting in a private room at St. Francis, recovering before he could be taken to jail.

Miraculously, Flip's cover hadn't been blown in all the commotion. As far as the suspects knew, he'd escaped the cops and was laying low until it blew over. Chief Bridges wanted to take advantage of this, using his intact undercover status to possibly get more information out of the injured suspect while he was healing and get his medical records so they could show it was an accident.

The hospital was quiet that morning, his footsteps echoing against the floor as we walked to the nurse's desk. A young woman sat filing paperwork, she looked up as he approached.

"I'm looking for Jacob Kukowski," he said, flashing his badge before stuffing back in his front pocket.

He almost never dressed in uniform for his job, something he was thankful for. The detective branch had a casual dress code, with most of the guys opting for jeans over slacks. He was grateful he could wear a flannel and a pair of jeans instead of the scratchy polyester of the officers uniform. A wire was taped to his undershirt under the flannel, something his partner helped him with in the parking lot. The receiver sat in his pocket, with Jimmy holding the recorder under his arm.

"Room 311. Try not to rile him up too much officer, his blood pressure hasn't been great," the woman warned him, a well-manicured finger pointing his way.

He said his thanks and walked toward the room. Jimmy stayed at the desk to gather Kukowski's file from the nurse and to pick up anything he could on the wire Flip was currently wearing. Flip wasn’t allowed to lead him toward any sort of declaration, that could invalidate anything said to him. So he’d have to shoot the shit with this guy and he’d hopefully talk himself into a proper prison sentence.

He found the room at the end of the hall, no officer stationed outside. The injuries must have been intense enough that they didn’t think he was a flight risk. He peeked in to see only one bed filled, the other stripped clean and vacant. His perp was in bed, propped up with pillows and covered in plaster casts. His naked arm was handcuffed to the railing of the bed, not that he could really get anywhere.

"Kukowski," he said simply as he entered the room. The weary man looked at him, expression becoming more animated.

“Well look at you, you sonofabitch. How the fuck you’d get in here without a nurse stoppin’ you?" Jacob asked, straightening himself up to get a better look at Flip.

"Nice to see you too. And there’s no one out there. How the hell did you get caught?"

"Some fuckin’ snitch ratted me out,” he groaned

“Fuck man, I’m sorry, that blows,” Flip tried to sound as sympathetic as possible.

“Listen Matt, I want you to get rid of the rest of my stuff. I got a special batch hidden away, it was meant to go to a new client. None of these small-time junkies,” Kukowski said in a hushed tone, calling Flip by the alias he’d been using. He clearly didn’t want to waste any time, he got right down to business.

“What makes it special? Who am I getting it to?” Flip asked. He figured Kukowski was planning on partnering with him at some point, but after he was already arrested? This guy was dumber than he originally thought.

Kukowski beckoned him closer with his cuffed hand.

“Now, I don’t know if I should say who the buyer is. But the horse? It’s beautiful,” Kukowski’s eyes were bloodshot, but shining with excitement.

“This buyer wanted me to come up with something new. The stuff I usually deal is cut with Asprin, which doesn’t do much to a person. If anything, I’m keepin’ my customers healthy,” He continued.

“Yeah, sure,” Flip was pretty sure that heroin had the opposite effect, despite what else you put in it, but he wasn’t about to argue.

“This new stuff, is the exact opposite. It’s meant to look harmless, it tastes just like the real shit. Basically undetectable unless you’re gonna test it in a lab. But it could kill a man in minutes,” Kukowski was smiling way too enthusiastically while talking, Flip’s skin crawled under his collar, but he let him continue to incriminate himself.

 “The secret? it’s cut with a fuckload of caffeine powder. Makes it look like the poor guy died of a heart attack instead of an overdose,”

“But why do that? Seems bad for business to me,” Flip said, motioning to his pack of cigarettes to ask if his target wanted one. He shook his head and Flip tapped the pack to knock a cig into his hand.

“Let’s just say this buyer’s business is a little...different from ours. They don’t like repeat clients,”

“That’s fuckin’ strange, what kinds operation are they runnin’?” He lit his cigarette, taking a long draw of smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a moment.

“A Wise One, if you catch my drift,” Kukowski winked at his supposed friend.

Oh. Oh, this was too good.

Flip let the smoke out of his lungs, choosing his words carefully as he spoke again.

“Are you tellin’ me you’re sellin’ to the mob, Kukowski?” He said quietly, just loud enough for Jimmy to pick up through the wire.

“A small-time contact. But if this works out we could be very rich men very soon,”

“Well, whats this contact’s name? Where’s the stuff? We gotta set this up and get you some bail money,” Flip said, taking another drag.

“Johnny Bianchi, he’s up in Denver. My supplies is in that storage unit I was tellin’ you about, along with some cash I’ve already got tucked away. That’s the bail money, the rest is for us my friend!”

Flip could barely believe it. This guy had not only solidified he was a dealer, but that he was producing and selling a deadlier version of his drugs to the Mafia with the intent to kill. He wondered if the office was going to make him buy another round that night. Does it count when its still technically the same case?

“Well that’s a swell plan Kukowski, I gotta tell ya,” Flip said, getting off the hospital bed. The smoke from his cigarette trailed behind him as he moved to the windows at the far end of the room. “What do you think Jimmy? Will it work out for him?”

Kukowski’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. His body tensed up as much as it could being covered in plaster.

“I think it’s got some holes to it, but we can always take another listen later in court,” Jimmy’s voice came from the hallway followed by a loud shush from the nurse behind the desk.

Kukowski’s face went from confusion to realization to rage in just a few moments. Flip almost wished he could’ve taken a picture.

"You set me up!" He struggled against his restraints, his casts making it difficult for him to make much progress.

"Hey, you should give yourself more credit, you did most of the heavy lifting in that conversation. I think our friends up at the Denver PD will be thankful for the tip off,”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” He was practically frothing at the mouth.

“You were already read your rights once, but I’ll say them again seeing as you clearly weren’t listening the first time. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one can be appointed to you to represent- " was as far as Flip made it before he was cut off by a deafening scream.

Kukowski thrashed wildly in his bed, incomprehensible threats sputtering from his mouth. Flip watched as the IV glass began to sway from the force, threatening to tip over and break.

"Nurse!" He called over the screaming of his suspect. He knew he couldn't get close enough to subdue him without getting injured himself.

Two nurses ran into the room at top speed, rushing to steady the equipment and the man. He continued to thrash despite the hold the women had on him. Flip stood out of the way, backed up against the far wall. Maybe this wasn’t the best way for him to drop his cover.

"We need a sedative!" One of the women called out into the hallway.

A few moments later, another nurse rushed to the room holding a small jar and a needle.

"How much?" She asked hurriedly, looking from the distressed patient to the distressed nurse.

“1 milligram!" The other nurse shouted back, trying to hold his cast down to prevent any further injury. “There’s no time to inject into the fluid, we need it intravenous!”

“Well shit, Carol! He’s covered in plaster that’s gonna take a second!” 

“Don’t curse! Just find an area, quick!”

"I'll fucking kill you!" Kukowski continued to shout, choking on his own spit, voice becoming more garbled. "I'll fucking kill you you god damn pig! You fuckin’-"

His voice died out and his eye rolled back into his head. Slowly he slumped back into the mattress. The woman had stuck him with the syringe, pulling it gently out of his neck once empty. The women sighed a breath of relief, backing away from the patient to get a better idea of what just happened.

"What the fuck?" The nurse holding the syringe looked to her coworkers, pushing a lock of hair back into her cap. "Why the fuck was he screaming about pigs?"

"This man over here, who needs to vacate the room immediately, by the way. I believe I specifically asked him not to raise the patient's blood pressure," the nurse who had been at the desk said in a clipped tone, staring down Flip.

The other two nurses turned to look at the source of their strife, noticing the man who’d been standing against the wall with a lit cigarette and a shocked expression. He made his way over to Kukowski’s bed once more, stubbing out his cig on an ashtray. The nurse who was holding the syringe made direct eye contact with him, her big brown eyes widening upon seeing him.

“You’re the pig?” She blurted out.

Realization clicked in his brain as he focused on her. This couldn't be happening right now.

"Eliana?"

He hadn’t recognized her. Her long curly hair was held back in a tight roll and covered by a nurse’s cap. Her uniform matched with the others in the room, a stark white dress that stepped above the knee with a matching apron.

"You know this guy?" The other nurse asked.

"Barely. You guys make sure the patient is okay, I’ll take care of him,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and shepherding him out of the room.

He was too shocked to stop her as they went down the corridor, passing his partner on the way.

"What the fuck just happened in there? It sounded like a fuckin’ murder spree,” He hissed.

"I'll explain later," he ripped his wire off himself and threw it toward his partner.

"Where are you going?" He asked as Elle dragged Flip further down the hall.

“I said later!" He yelled back as she pushed him into a spare room.

She was surprisingly strong, her shove causing him to stumble a little as he entered the vacant room. Beds were set up to house two patients but both remained empty. She closed the door behind them and turned to look at him. Even though he was half a foot taller than her, she straightened her spine and rested her hands on her hips as she spoke.

"Are you stalking me?" She questioned him.

"What?" He spat out.

"You're at my job. I didn't tell you where I work but here you are, were you stalking me?"

"No! Of course not! I'm a cop, hence the yelling about pigs. I’m here with my partner for work, that guy I was talking to was a suspect in a drug ring. And as of five minutes ago, wanted for working with the mob,"

"Do you usually rile up mobsters like that? That seemed pretty fucking stupid,"

"Christ, you've got a mouth on you,"

"And after you work him into a frenzy, why not send in the nurses? Have you ever tried to sedate a man actively trying to kill someone? Do you know how hard it is to jab someone with a needle full of a very specific amount of sedative into a very specific area?" She continued her interrogation, choosing to ignore his comment. The hand holding the syringe pointed toward him accusingly.

"Can you please put the needle down when you're talking?"

She slammed it down on a bedside table.

"Can you please not fuck with my patients?"

"Well sorry, it wasn't intentional. I was just trying to do my job,"

"Yeah? Well try harder next time," she spat out, looking annoyed.

He was quiet for a moment, taking in her new appearance. She looked much different than she had at the bar. Her turtleneck and pants had been replaced with a tidy nurse uniform. Her heels were replaced with sensible loafers, shaving a few inches off her height. Even standing straight, she only came to his collarbone. Her fiery spirit remained the same though, if not a little more intimidating as she stood by the needle.

"I didn't know you were a nurse," he said quietly.

"Didn't know you were a cop," she responded, her expression softening just a fraction.

"Is that a problem?" He asked, half-expecting her to be angry with him.

"Only if you keep getting in the way of my job," she responded. "He might be a criminal but he can't go to jail if you give him a heart attack and he dies,"

"Noted," he gave a small smile.

She returned it.

"Haven't seen you around the bar," he said.

"So you were looking? You sure you aren't stalking me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"No, I just-" he didn't want to look like he'd spent the last couple of nights intentionally looking out for her.

"It's okay, I'm just messing with you. I've had double shifts the last couple of days so I've been too tired to do anything when I get off work,"

"That's understandable," he knew what those nights were like, he's had quite a few of them himself.

He felt a little better about not seeing her around knowing it had been because of work and not him. He wanted to ensure this wouldn't happen again, he wanted to get to know her better. He was going to ask for her number, maybe take her out on a date. It had been a while since he went on a real date, the idea made him a little nervous.

Suddenly, she stepped closer to him, hand traveling up to his neck. He was startled by the sudden contact, but let her continue. His top buttons came loose as he ripped off his wire, revealing his necklace.

"ir've eydish?" she asked, holding the Star of David between her delicate fingers.

"What?" He didn't catch what she had said.

"You're Jewish?" she seemed to already know the answer judging by her smile.

She removed her hands from his neck to go to her own. She pointed to the delicate chain peeking out of the collar of her uniform, holding a small Star of David pendant.

"There don't seem to be too many of us around here,"

"Yeah, it's a pretty small number," he mused, fixing his shirt and tucking his necklace away.

"Do you have family in town?"

"No, I grew up in Nebraska, but my family moved further south a few years ago,” he wasn't sure where she was going with that question.

"The next day I have off is for Rosh Hashanah. I'm having one of my coworkers over and her boyfriend, it's nothing big. But it's nice to have people around for the holidays, you should come by,"

"I'm uh...my parents, we never really celebrated anything so I’m not really sure how that would go. I wouldn't want to impose," he stuttered out. He grew up in a secular family, the only time they celebrated was if they went to visit family elsewhere.

"That's okay, there's a first for everything," she said. She reached for a pen and paper from the clipboard by the bed. "I'm writing down my address and my number, swing by before sundown on Friday, maybe seven-ish?“

"Should I bring anything?" He asked, taking the paper and shoving it in his wallet for safekeeping.

"You could buy me that drink maybe?" She winked at him, opening the door and starting to walk out. "I'm partial to red wine,"

She put the clipboard back and picked up the syringe.

"I have to get back to work, gotta make sure you didn't mess up my patient's recovery," she explained, heading for the door. "I'll see you Friday?"

She stopped in the door frame, looking back at him, waiting for his answer.

"Friday, before sundown, red wine," he recited back to her. She smiled and disappeared from view, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall.

He left a moment later, as she was turning into Kukowski's room at the other end of the hall. She looked so composed, her uniform pressed and her hair rolled into submission. She was still smiling as she disappeared into the room.

"Earth to Zimmerman," A finger snapped in his face, waking him from a trance he didn't know he was in.

Jimmy was standing in front of him, looking annoyed. The recorder was under his arm and the wires were sticking out of his front pocket.

"What the fuck just happened in there? The nurse marched you into the room looking like she was ready for murder and came out smiling,"

"I think I just got a date," he responded, feeling awestruck.

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

Did you know Emergency Medicine is a pretty recent creation? I was originally going to make Eliana an ER nurse but turns out that wasn't really a thing in the 70′s! It was just starting to become a specialization at the time but most hospitals only had a room or two set aside for emergency cases. Want to learn more? Here’s a cool article!

“ir’ve eydish?” is my best attempt at Yiddish in English letters. Eliana is asking Flip if he’s Jewish.

People do actually cut heroin with caffeine, be careful with your drugs people! 

[walteinsamkeit]

Information about the Courtiers

So, here we are. This is a huge post with all the information I could possibly gather about the Courtiers. The idea for this post was born out of sheer interest in this kind of stuff and the desire to know more about it, and I figured other people might as well be interested in it. Some of this might be far-fetched, so I would like to say that this isn’t a theory in any way, shape or form. It’s just a collection of information that caught my eye or facts that I found particularly interesting. Some parts involve me drawing conclusions or making assumptions. This is how I interpreted these things. You are allowed to disagree with me, but please be respectful. More might be added to it at a later date. If you see anything that isn’t correct (including typos/spelling mistakes), or would like to add to this, make sure to contact me! If you’re missing something here and have a question that you would like answered or a thing you want to see explained, don’t hesitate to shoot me a message either. Finally, I would like to thank @gummy-vitamin-gobbler​ for being my proof reader. I honestly didn’t want to put anyone through reading this entire thing and I’m super grateful you volunteered. You’re the best <3 Proceed with caution as this text does contain spoilers!  This post is in alphabetical order based on their names, with a few general facts at the bottom of it.

General information Vesuvia’s royal court consists of five members. Their titles were given to them by Lucio when he became the Count. As reported by Valerius, the other four Courtiers were present on the night of the murder outside of Lucio’s room, thus making them key witnesses.  Quaestor Valdemar is the palace’s head physician and Julian’s former boss. They seem to be obsessed with the Red Plague and delight in the chaos the disease brought to the city of Vesuvia. Not much more is known about them. Consul Valerius, as his title suggests, is a consul to the royal Palace and reportedly a key witness to Lucio’s murder. A tarot reading done by the apprentice reveals that Valerius has his own agenda, despite seeming supportive of Nadia and her aims at first. Praetor Vlastomil, besides serving as a judge, was Lucio’s business partner. He is an eccentric man obsessed with insects, particularly with worms, and has entire rooms dedicated to them at his manor.  Procurator Volta is in charge of the city’s food supply and was essential during the Plague according to Nadia on account of her being able to smell the Plague off of people and other things. She is always hungry and never seems to be satisfied. Pontifex Vulgora is described by Nadia as a warmonger who has won many battles in Vesuvia’s name. They are extremely aggressive and obsessed with destruction, often threatening others. Quaestor Valdemar Name • Valdemar is a Scandinavian masculine name that finds its origins in the Old High German name Waldemar. It consists of the elements wald (meaning “to rule”) and mar (meaning “fame”). This German form was introduced to Scandinavia as Valdemar in the 12th century with King Valdemar I of Denmark. It’s particularly famous for being the name of many Scandinavian monarchs, and is sometimes considered to be the equivalent of the Slavish name Vladimir (meaning “of great power” or, in folk etymology, “ruler of the world”). The Old Norse form is Valdamarr (or Valdarr), which occurs in many tales and sagas.   Title • A quaestor, back in Ancient Rome, was a public official. The term quaestor translates to “investigator”. The position served many different functions that differed per time period. In the Roman Kingdom, the quaestores parricidii (quaestors with judicial powers) were appointed by the king to investigate and handle murders and capital crimes.  Headdress • The type of wrapped, horned headdress Valdemar wears is called a hennin. It was worn by European women of nobility in the late Middle Ages, and although it’s not clear what distinct styles of headdress the word hennin specifically referred to at the time, it has been recorded to be used in France as far back as 1428. However, the word wasn’t used in the English language until the 19th century. There are many different styles, such as the conical hennin generally accompanied with a veil (which is called the cointoise), the escoffin (a more heart-shaped hennin), the truncated hennin (with a flat top), the divided hennin (which was often covered in white cloth), the beehive hennin and the related Lebanese tantour headdress. The particular style worn by Valdemar seems most inspired by the butterfly hennin (thank you for this suggestion @gummy-vitamin-gobbler​!) Appearance • As stated on the Arcana Wiki, Valdemar has dirty blonde hair (as can be deducted from the color of their eyebrows) and red eyes with slit pupils, like a cat. It is to be noted that their facial structure seems very similar to that of Nadia (and her sisters), with the same nose shape and eye color, and what seems to be the same skin undertones. It is a possibility that Valdemar is from Prakra. They wear a white lab coat with an overlapping mandarin collar on which they wear their beetle brooch, shoulder length gloves, a black waist apron and a white surgical mask. While there is no existing labcoat design that looks like Valdemar’s, the buttoning style is somewhat similar to the “Howie” style lab coat, although it might be a bit of a stretch. This is a variant of the basic lab coat adopted for the added safety. The Howie coat was named after J. W. Howie, who was the President of the College of Pathologists. This style has the buttons on the left flank, elasticated wrists and a mandarin collar.  Tarot card • The card Valdemar represents is Death. Death is ruled by Scorpio, suggesting that their zodiac sign might be Scorpio. There is, however, a discrepancy at play here, considering Valerius’ sign, which we will come to later. The number of the card is 13, which is a number sacred to the Goddess as there are 13 full moons in a year. In Asra’s tarot deck, Death is portrayed by a skeleton horse. It’s not clear whether Valdemar represents the upright or reversed card meaning. Considering Valdemar’s seeming inability to let go of the Red Plague and desire for it to return, one might argue they represent Death Reversed.  In traditional decks, Death is often portrayed by an armored skeleton riding a white horse and carrying a banner. The armor is symbolic for the fact Death is invincible and unconquerable - no one can triumph over him. The white horse stands for purity, as Death is the ultimate purifier, and doesn’t discriminate between age, race or gender.  This card is probably the most feared and misunderstood out of all of them, as people often take the meaning of it far too literally. Upright, it is actually a positive card that stands for significant transformation, change, transition and new beginnings. Reversed, Death reflects reluctance to let go of the past and a refusal to accept change. 

Consul Valerius Name • A masculine name of ancient Roman origin. This was a patronymic family name derived from the Latin valere “to be strong” or “to be healthy”, and was the name of several early saints (this ties in with him representing the Hierophant card). The Valerius family was prominent from the very beginning of the Republic to the latest period of the Empire, and a lot of its members were among the most celebrated statesmen and generals. This even went as far as several of the Roman emperors claiming to be descendants of the Valerii. It’s also to be noted that there were a lot of consuls who bore the name Valerius.  Valerian is also an herb with sweetly scented pink or white flowers that has sedative and anxiolytic effects. The name of the herb is derived from the verb valere, just like the name Valerius. It has many other names, one of which is all-heal. This name is also used for plants in the genus Stachys, although one of the nicknames for this specific plant is lamb’s ears. Nicholas Culpeper, a seventeenth century astrological botanist, said that the herb was of special value against the plague.  Title • Consuls, back in ancient Rome, were magistrates comparable with prime ministers or presidents. Apart from the oldest, it was also the most important position in the cusus honorum or “course of offices”. Consuls always came in pairs and served for only one year to prevent corruption. They were the chairmen of the Senate (which served as a board of advisers), commanded the army and exercised the highest juridical power in the Roman empire. Consuls had the right to interfere with the decisions of praetors and quaestors.  Appearance • Notable about the Consul’s clothing is the golden ram brooch he wears on his shawl. In the tarot deck used in The Arcana, The Hierophant is represented by a ram. Valerius is also the only courtier who doesn’t wear a red beetle brooch, so this makes it an exceptionally remarkable feature.  Valerius wears his ombre hair French-braided and draped over his shoulder. Ombré, literally meaning “shaded” in French, describes the gradual transition from one hue to another, usually from dark to light or vice versa. Ombre was popular in fabric printing as far back as the early 19th century.  His underclothing seems to consist of what is either a jumpsuit-like one piece or two separate pieces with gold trim on the cuffs and collar.  On top of this he wears an asymmetrical, taupe, frock-inspired, tunic-like overcoat with three-quarter bell sleeves, a golden cord in the front and what seems to be some kind of button and loop fastening, also called “frog fastening” or “Chinese frog”. This is a type of ornamental braiding of sorts consisting of a button and a loop and serves for fastening the front of a garment. This particular type of closing is often found on clothing of Asian design. Frogging was also a popular type of fastening for military uniforms from the 17th to the 19th century. His shoes have gold decoration, red soles and spool heels. The hand that Valerius keeps near his body also seems to be lighter than the rest of his skin, leading me to believe he wears a glove on this hand.  Tarot card • The card Valerius most likely represents is The Hierophant. The Hierophant, in Asra’s tarot deck, is depicted as a ram. Valerius’ ram brooch seems to allude to a connection between the two. There is however one problem concerning this theory, namely that The Hierophant is ruled by Taurus, and not by Scorpio, which happens to be Valerius’ canon zodiac sign. This would make him the only known character in the entire story representing a card that does not match their zodiac sign.  The card’s number is five and it is commonly depicted as a religious figure sitting on a throne. The three elaborate vestments of his office that he wears represent the three worlds. He wears a crown and his right hand is raised in benediction - this is the same hand that the Magician has raised, but where the Magician draws raw power from the universe and manifests it on the material plane, the Hierophant channels his power through society (in the form of religion). The crossed keys of the Hierophant represent a balance between the conscious and subconscious mind, and are used to unlock mysteries.  Upright, the Hierophant means religion, group identification, conformity, tradition and beliefs. Reversed, it means restriction and challenging the status quo.  What is interesting to note is that the Hierophant is also known as the Pope, the High Priest (as a masculine counterpart to the High Priestess), the Shaman, and Chiron. Chiron is a comet with an erratic orbit. In astrology it symbolizes the “wounded healer” in the natal chart. Chiron represents our deepest wound and our efforts to heal it. In Greek mythology, Chiron was a centaur who was a healer and teacher who ironically enough could not heal himself. The symbol for Chiron is a key, much like the keys that the Hierophant himself holds, used for unlocking secrets.  The wounds of a Chiron in Scorpio native are nihilism, sexual addiction, power struggles, jealousy and obsession and trouble leaving bad relationships.  Praetor Vlastomil Name • While Vlastomil isn’t an actual name (I know, I was surprised too), Vlastimil is. It’s a common Slavic masculine name consists of the elements vlast (meaning “homeland”) and mil (meaning “favor”). This however is the modern meaning of these words and it should be said that they are derived from volsti (power, government, rule, sovereignty) and mil(a) (kind, loving, and gracious). The Latin form of this name is Patrick (I have no idea how). Patrick can be found as a name derived from the Latin Patricius, which means “nobleman”.  Title • Praetors served as judges of the Roman Republic and, in the absence of the consuls, commanded armies. It was a title granted by the government and was inferior only to senators and consuls. One could only become a praetor after serving at least one term as a quaestor. The Praetor Urbanus acted as the chief administrator of Rome and wasn’t allowed to leave the city for more than ten days. They were the main magistrate responsible for trying the people of Rome. Hat • Vlastomil’s feathered cap is called a beret. It is a soft, round, somewhat floppy, flat-crowned hat for both men and women that originates in France and Spain. It fits snugly around the head and can be shaped in a variety of ways. There are many different styles of berets and aside from it often being seen as headgear in the military it was very much beloved by European nobility and artists throughout history. The Basque style beret, which is probably the most well-known and most simple style of all, was first commercially produced in the very South of France in the 17th century. The beret that Vlastomil wears seems to be inspired by berets worn during the Renaissance, and in particular those worn by the German Landsknechte. The Landsknechte (a word combining land “land/country”, here in the sense of “lowlands”, and knecht “servant/vassal”, here in the sense of “foot-soldier”) were mercenary soldiers who were an important military force in Europe during the 15th and 16th century, consisting mostly of pikemen and foot soldiers. They wore large, slashed berets (sometime referred to as starfish hats) that, when puffed out, showed a different color fabric underneath, and were adorned with big feathers.  Although it doesn’t have much to do with the hat on itself, it should be said that the Landsknechte had a reputation for unprincipled, ruthless violence and were infamous for the fact it wasn’t unknown for entire regiments of Landsknechte to swap sides in the middle of a battle if they were offered more money or to desert en masse when there was no more gold to pay them. Appearance • Vlastomil has grey hair and white eyes with slit pupils, much like the other Courtiers minus Valerius. A very striking feature is his one visibly pointy ear with a golden earring in his stretched earlobe. There seems to be another gauge right behind the first one, but he doesn’t wear any jewelry in it.  He wears a gown that is most likely inspired by traditional ceremonial court dresses/judicial robes, although I don’t know enough about these to be able to determine which one exactly it is most similar to. The open puff sleeves with white insets are reminiscent of the slashed style of his beret. They seem inspired by the paned sleeves that were popular during the 15th and 16th century European Renaissance. Furthermore he wears fabric chausses, worn in the 14th century when they served as leg armor made from chain maille. These could extend to the knee or cover the entire leg. Tarot card • Vlastomil’s card is Justice, ruled by Libra and bearing number 11. It was in fact confirmed by the devs that Vlastomil’s zodiac sign is Libra. In Asra’s deck, Justice is represented by a boar. The traditional depiction is that of Lady Justice sitting in a throne, holding a sword in her right hand and her scales in the left. The sword signifies impartiality and victory, and the scales show that logic must be balanced by the intuition, as the left hand is the intuitive hand. It is to be assumed that Vlastomil represents the reversed meaning of Justice. Justice upright symbolizes fairness, truth, cause and effect and law. Reversed, it stands for unfairness, lack of accountability and dishonesty. Considering the Praetor’s course of action during Julian’s trial, it’s evident why he would be Justice Reversed. The card shows an unwillingness to understand, refusing to take responsibility for one’s actions and blaming others for your mistakes. It reflects a very judgmental, biased, black-and-white view of the world and under-handed behavior, all of which is incredibly dangerous while swinging the sword of justice. Procurator Volta Name • Volta isn’t an actual given name either, but there are a lot of things that is is. In a poem, the volta, or turn, serves as a rhetorical shift in thought and/or emotion. It has gone by many different names such as fulcrum, modulation, torque, swerve. Leslie Ullman called the volta the poem’s “center”, which is largely the poem’s dramatic and climactic turn. Phillis Levin said that “we could say that for the sonnet, the volta is the seat of its soul”. It’s interesting to note that the stomach was once thought to be the seat of the soul, instead of the heart or the brain (particularly in Buddhism if I am not mistaken). The Volta also a quick-moving Italian dance that was mostly popular during the 16th and 17th centuries.  Title • Procurators were officials who were in charge of the financial affairs of a province in ancient Rome. Although they worked alongside the imperial governor they were not subordinate to him and reported directly to the emperor. The procurator had its own staff and agents and had a few primary responsibilities, such as the collection of taxes and rents and the distribution of pay to public servants.  Headdress • The headdress Volta wears is a cornette, which is essentially a type of wimple. A wimple is a large piece of cloth worn around the neck and chin and covering the top of the head. The wimple was popular in early medieval Europe, where during many stages of medieval Christian culture it was unseemly for a married woman to show her hair. Originally the wimple was creased and folded in prescribed ways. Later, elaborated versions such as the cornette were supported by wire or wicker framing. Both the wimple and cornette are perhaps most famous as a headdress for nuns. Like the horned hennin, the cornette was folded in such a way as to create the resemblance of horns. In the mid-17th century, it was worn by the Daughters of Charity: a Roman Catholic society consisting of women that took care of the sick and poor and attempted to resemble ordinary middle-class women as much as possible in their clothing.  Appearance • Volta has curly, reddish-brown hair and brown eyes, although one of them is invisible due to what seems to be a lazy eye. One sharp snaggle-tooth sticks up from her bottom row of teeth. She wears what seems to be some sort of nun dress, or a habit, which were traditionally plain garbs worn by members of a religious order. The reason for this uniform outfitting was that nuns and monks had to be recognizable as such. Considering the cornette Volta wears (which is tied to the Roman Catholic society Daughters of Charity as explained above), it is most likely that her dress was based on the typical Roman Catholic habit. Ironically enough, the habit was a symbol for living a sober life in poverty and consecration, all of which seem to be the opposite of the tarot card Volta represents (as described below). Her dress has puffed sleeves and, considering the shape of it, probably an empire waist. Her shawl is clasped in the front by her beetle brooch, and she wears what seems to be a tasseled fabric and a lace fabric draped over her dress. Finally, she wears fingerless lace gloves.  Tarot card • Volta represents Temperance Reversed, as seen during the lunch scene with Vulgora and Volta in Nadia’s route where the apprentice can read the cards for one of them. Its number being 14, it is ruled by Sagittarius; traditionally the teacher of truth, enthusiasm, tolerance and beauty.  In Asra’s deck, Temperance is depicted as a dove, but traditionally it is a winged angel we can see on the card. The angel, being a child of Hermes and Aphrodite, is both male and female, symbolizing a balance between them. One foot stands on dry land (the material world) while the other stands in the water (the subconscious). It represents a need to “test the waters” before jumping headfirst into unknown circumstances. The angel carries two cups with water that are being mixed, thus mixing the sub- and super-conscious minds.  Upright the card means balance, moderation, patience, purpose and meaning. Reversed it is imbalance, excess and lack of long-term vision. As Volta is known to be extremely hungry and greedy when it comes to food, it’s clear what the element of imbalance and excess is. This conflict creates a lot of stress and tension. Temperance Reversed is also about people you are dealing with proving to be uncooperative. It may feel as though your interests are in conflict or competition with each other, and solving this may seem like an impossible feat. Although not consciously, one might still realize something isn’t quite right, and it may lead to role reversal.  Pontifex Vulgora Name • In Roman mythology, Fulgora was the female personification of lightning. She is a minor goddess and the Roman equivalent to Astrape. Astrape was a shieldmaiden of Zeus, and was given the task of carrying his thunderbolts together with her sister. She is described as “flashing light from her eyes, and raging fire from heaven that has laid hold of a king’s house”. There isn’t a lot of information to find on her, sadly. Another possible origin for Vulgora as a name could simply be the word vulgar, meaning “not suitable, simple, dignified or beautiful” or “rude and likely to upset or anger people”.  Title • The pontifex (literally “bridge builder”) was a member of a council of priests. The college of the pontifices was the most important Roman priesthood, responsible for regulating the relations of the community with the deities recognized by the state, called the jus divinum. They fulfilled duties such as for example regulating expiatory ceremonials needed as the result of pestilence or lightning. The pontifices were probably advisors of the king in all matters of religion and all held office for life.  Headdress • Like Valdemar, Vulgora wears a hennin - albeit a perhaps somewhat more historically accurate version without the fabric wrapping. Their headdress seems to be slightly more similar to an escoffin in general shape but features the same horns as Valdemar’s hennin instead of the open-centered top a normal escoffin would have. Aside from that, their hennin is veiled with a sheer cointoise attached to both steeples. They wear a neck-covering wimple much like Volta’s, making their headdress into what seems to be a combination of these three styles. Appearance • Vulgora has red hair and yellow eyes with slit pupils. They seem to wear some sort of diamond-quilted knee-length tunic with a fabric waist tie and a tasseled golden rope on top. The red-and-gold striped, puffed sleeves are alike in size to gigot sleeves. Introduced to the English court by Anne of Cleves (one of Henry VIII’s wives), these sleeves were extremely wide over the upper arm and narrow from elbow to wrist. Once more, and much like the clothing of the other courtiers, Vulgora’s garbs seem to be Renaissance-inspired in design; specifically by the Tudor clothes worn during the reign of Henry the Eighth. Back then, the type of tunic Vulgora wears was also called a petti-cote; technically a waistcoat with sleeves. Furthermore, they wear a skirted, somewhat flaring, sleeveless cloak lined with gold near the bottom. These particular pieces of clothing were worn to make physical proportions appear larger, with padded shoulders and stuffed sleeves enlarging the figure. This was done to accentuate manly features that made the wearer appear bigger and stronger.  It is hard to tell what the lower half of their arms might look like considering the clawed silver gauntlets they wear. Gauntlets like these were worn as armor, made out of hardened leather or metal plates protecting the hand and wrist. An interesting fact is that the term “gauntlet” is used in the idiom “throw down the gauntlet”, meaning “to issue a challenge”. A gauntlet wearing knight would challenge another to a duel by throwing one of his gauntlets on the ground. Picking it up meant that the challenge was accepted by their opponent.  Tarot card • The card Vulgora represents is The Tower upright. It is ruled by Mars (the planet named after the god of war), which in turn rules Aries and Scorpio. It is assumed Vulgora is an Aries to tie in with their theme of war and strife. Its number is 16.  In Asra’s deck, the Tower card shows a stag surrounded by red beetles (also note that Vulgora’s masquerade mask was a red stag beetle mask). Traditionally it is depicted by a tower aflame, tormented by lightning strikes. People are seen leaping off of it in desperation, fleeing from the destruction and turmoil. The Tower is generally one of the more negative cards in the deck. It signifies physical darkness and destruction as opposed to spiritually, and represents  ambitions built on false premises. It is however important to note that the destruction of the tower also signifies the creation space for something new to grow in a sudden, momentary glimpse of truth and inspiration.  Upright the Tower means disaster, upheaval, sudden change and revelation. Reversed it symbolizes avoidance of disaster and fear of change.  The Tower is about the destruction of inadequate foundation of false thought, belief and action. It is humbling, frightening, but necessary. It is often descriptive of a major upheaval, disruption, emergency or crisis, and is likely to bring chaos in the aftermath of such an event. Only after this will come change and regeneration. Beetle brooches All courtiers, except for Valerius, wear a red and gold beetle brooch on their clothing. As we know, these pieces of jewelry are shaped after the red beetles that are occasionally seen and mentioned in the story. They are found in a specific room in Vlastomil’s manor, as well as burrowed in the ground beneath a spring nearby Nopal and kept in a well by Valdemar in the dungeons beneath the palace. Nadia mentions that the beetles were once used to dye fabric a bright crimson red, and in Asra’s route, a local named Saguaro tells a story of how a giant red beetle was once defeated by Lucio before turning into thousands of smaller red beetles that then hid in the ground. Finally, the red beetles appear on the Tower card in Asra’s deck. They seem to play a significant role in the spreading of the Red Plague.  Judging by the general shape of the beetle, it is assumable they are based on scarabs. Scarabs held great meaning to the people of Ancient Egypt, who saw the them as symbols of creation, life, rebirth and immortality. The scarab-headed god Kephri was responsible for rolling the sun across the sky every day, where it died at night and was reborn in the morning. The sacred beetle also had protective abilities that they lend to its wearer.  The scarab beetle was also sacred to Khepera, the god of creation, resurrection and immortality (all of which seem to allude to Lucio, the ritual, the apprentice and perhaps the Arcana). It is a highly spiritual bug that carries messages that bring our attention to renewal, spiritual maturity, and the powerful influences of the invisible side of life. When a person died, it was believed that their heart was weighed by Ma’at, the goddess of truth. If the heart was heavy with sin, the spirit of the deceased was not allowed to move on to the after life. In an attempt to convince Ma’at that a person was good and deserved her mercy, scarab beetle amulets were placed over a mummy’s heart.  With the update of Lucio’s tale I feel like it’s safe to draw a few careful conclusions here. Lucio is from a wartribe referred to as the “scourge of the South”, depicted as red beetles on the tapestries that tell their tribe’s story, and referred to as “the swarm” by Lucio himself. In fact, Lucio describes his tribe as “a plague of voracious beetles, leaving nothing but bare bones in our wake”. It must be noted that the beetles kept in a well in the dungeons by Valdemar were used to dispose of the bodies of their deceased patients, as the insects were “[...] so effective at disposal” according to them. It is hinted that Lucio contracted the Plague from a beetle bite while fleeing from his mother after he failed to kill her. As stated previously in the story, the Plague is directly tied to Lucio’s life and will follow wherever he goes - as are the last words of his tale.  The Four Horsemen In my previous Arcana plot theory post, I mentioned and quickly explained the Four Horsemen theory. While you could go and read it there I will here once more explain what exactly this theory is about.  Quite a while ago when the Valerius sprite first was released, the devs jokingly mentioned that the Courtiers were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and that Valerius was the fifth Horseman. While I do not remember the precise context or interactions that took place, this was the gist of it.  At multiple points in the story it is mentioned that the Courtiers (minus Valerius) are not exactly human, or as not perceived as such by the apprentice. They are frequently described as “[having] a presence like a dark chasm” (Valdemar), a “beast” (Volta) and “not necessarily human” (Vulgora). Last but not least, Vlastomil’s manor is described by the apprentice as “confusingly designed [with] doors that lead to nowhere [and] halls that suddenly stop in dead ends, as if the manse itself were trying to disorient us” (Nadia’s route: Book VIII).  It seems as though the four Courtiers represent the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. This idea is now further supported by the wyrm in Lucio’s tale introducing himself as “the worm of pestilence”.  The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are described in the Book of Revelation - the last book of the Bible’s New Testament. The chapter says that God holds a scroll in his right hand that is sealed with seven seals. The Lamb of God, or Jesus Christ, opens the first four of the seven seals, which summons four beings that ride out on a white, red, black, and pale horse. The four riders are called Pestilence (on the white horse), War (on the red horse), Famine (on the black horse) and Death (on the pale horse). The colors of the horses also match the color schemes of the Courtiers. The Four Horsemen, as harbingers of the Last Judgement, set a divine Apocalypse upon the world.  We can now with (near) certainty say that Vlastomil is Pestilence, Vulgora is War, Volta is Famine and Valdemar is Death.  During the Last Judgement, the dead will rise from their graves after which the Second Coming of Christ (the Lamb of God) occurs. Everyone will then be judged, and will “receive what they deserve” depending on how they have lived their life. What goal this serves story-wise we can’t say just yet. 

[auckie]

I apologize, but this response will be long. It actually reads more like a short story, so feel free to skip it. I wanted to clue you in on as much of my experiences as I can.

My first husband (who crossed over in 2005) was totally blind since birth. We met at a church that we were attending, and I was the keyboard player. He was also a musician, and asked someone to introduce me to him.

I spent about 3 hours with him at a Memorial Day picnic in 1986. We had a lot in common as far as music was concerned, since we were both composers and enjoyed the same type of music. He took my phone number, and said that he would call me on the following Friday at 10 p.m. (I had a job where I worked until 9).

So all throughout that week, I was obsessing about this interesting man, Michael, who happened to be 3 years younger than me. I was 24 at the time. When Friday night came around, he called me at 10:01 p.m! Now, he only lived about 10 miles from me, but this was back in the day before there were cell phones, and we happened to live in a different time zone from each other. So, he kept the call short, but asked me to come to his house the next day to play some music together.

When I went there, it was so much fun, jamming with someone who understood music like I did. We both were into progressive rock, jazz, and jazz fusion. I also had brought some albums of mine, like Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and it opened up a new world for him musically. We started hanging out a lot, and became good friends.

On the 4th of July, we went to a park and sat up on a hill. We didn't actually go see the fireworks, but it was thundering and lightning outside, and he enjoyed just listening to the sounds. I described lightning to him as best as I could, and we called it “God's light show.”

It was that night that I shyly told him that I liked him more than just a friend, and he said that the feelings were mutual. We began dating, and became engaged in March of the next year.

We had a very strong relationship, and ended up having a sort of marriage ceremony in November of 1988. At that time, if we legally got married, his Social Security benefits would be taken away because of my income. He did become gainfully employed as a telemarketer in 1991, and we legally got married then.

Dealing with the daily living skills of someone who has never seen anything.

Michael had a mobility instructor, who would meet with him weekly and take him through the neighborhood, helping him to navigate his way around town with the use of a cane. He never had a dog; he didn't want the hastle of cleaning up after it. But when he was me, I always had him take my arm and I would guide him around. I probably was detrimental to him in this regard, because it was easier to just lead him by the arm rather than spend the extra time watching him fumble his way with the cane.

Me being “blind” for a weekend

One year on my birthday, Michael accidentally poked his finger in my eye, and I ended up with a corneal abrasion. The doctor said that I needed to rest both eyes for a couple of days in order let the injured eye heal better. So here I am, wearing a scarf around my eyes, and asking Michael for help! This actually was pretty comical. He led me around the house all weekend, and I got a taste of what he lived through on a daily basis (though sometimes I cheated, and peered through the opening at the bottom of the scarf).

9/11

On September 11, 2001, about 8 hrs. after the Twin Towers collapsed, I was at work. He called me from a hospital and said that he was in a burn unit in a hospital about 30 miles away from home. Apparently, he had lit a cigarette, and his beard caught fire, and the fire spread to parts of his face and chest. Instinctively, he knew to roll on the carpet to put the fire out (he was an Eagle Scout!) Well, he needed Flight For Life to come and get him, but they had to have authorization from President Bush, and have military planes accompany the medical helicopter to the hospital. He was in so much pain, and I spent every free moment with him. Luckily, he healed pretty quickly, but needed a skin graft which they took from his leg. At that time, 9/11 was the farthest thing from my mind.

Unfortunately, this story doesn't have a happy ending.

Michael began experiencing severe pain in his muscles in various parts of his body beginning in 2003. We went to the ER several times, and to family practitioners, who kept giving him pain medications, but didn't know what the cause of this was. He sometimes would fall down for no apparent reason, which wasn't due to obstacles that were in his way that he stumbled upon because of his blindness. He was referred to a neurologist, who ran a battery of tests, and was diagnosed with Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. It is a syndrome stemming from the autonomic nervous system. Anyway, we had to have a home health care practioner come every day because he was going downhill rapidly, and I couldn't take care of him properly.

Final stages of Michael’s life in a nursing home

He was put in a nursing home for this horrible, progressive illness. I watched him succumb to a wheelchair, but for awhile he could still play his keyboard. His entire body became red, stiff, swollen. One day when I visited him, I was all excited because I had figured out how to play a very difficult Genesis song on the keyboard, so I played it for him. Usually, he would compliment me on things like this, but not this time. He had completely lost the usage of his right hand.

June 30, 2005

I spoke to Michael that night on the telephone. It was a Thursday, and I was planning on coming to see him the next morning at 10 a.m. I was working as a custodian at the time, and a funny thing happened that day at the school that I was working at that I told him about:

There was a baby swallow in one of the nests on the outside the building. Somehow, this poor thing got one of his feet tangled up in the nest, and couldn't fly away. So I grabbed a ladder, a pair of scissors, and a wash rag and climbed up the ladder. I gently spoke to him, put the rag over his body, and clipped what was entangling his foot to free him. He then flew away. When I told Michael the story, he said, “ that bird is probably grateful now that he is free.

I was going to take him to Wendy's, and he was looking forward to it. But he said something in a strange tone of voice that still haunts me to this day: “I'm declining.” It wasn't really a complaining tone of voice; when I remember these words in hindsight, it was just sort of a resignation. I really didn't think much of this at the time, because I just focused on our upcoming visit. I told him, as always, that I loved him.

The Jimi Hendrix “Experience”

Michael and I had always been fond of the song “Angel” by Jimi Hendrix. I know this post is very long, but maybe you can listen to the lyrics some time. Hendrix wrote it in July or August of 1970, shortly before his death in September of that year. He wrote it about his mom's death, but he puts the song as his own experience. It's basically about two visits on two consecutive days that he receives from an angel; on the first visit the angel says that she will come back for him the following day. She ends up coming back, and the listener is left assuming that the angel takes Hendrix with her “ forever.” I went to the grocery store in plenty of time to be at the nursing home by 10 the next day, and at about 9:30 I turned on the car radio and that song was playing.

My Arrival At The Nursing Home

I don't know, but when I got there, there was an ambulance outside, and I just had a weird feeling. I said to myself, “ Oh, fuck.” I went inside the nursing home, and when I got to Michael’s room, I was confused because I thought that I was lost. So I asked the nurse if he had been moved to a different room, and she told me to sit down. She took my hand and said, “ Michael passed away this morning at about 9. I felt this rush of blood in my forehead, started crying, and just said, “ No. No.” She said she called me and left a message (I still had a landline). The cause of death was a severe bowel obstruction from complications of the Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy.

Aftermath

Living with Michael taught me a lot about patience, and about loving someone for who they are on the inside. I actually composed a musical mass in his honor.

[rosamond-herondale]

Fucking the neighborhood cougar *repost*

So for some background I live in a high end gated community in Arizona and go to the local high-school. Basically I’m a daddy’s money kid like everyone else in my area. Anyways our community is pretty interactive we usually have parties, barbecues and everyone is really involved in our high-schools sports. Ms. Martinez had moved into the neighborhood about 3 years before we started having relations.

I remember when she first moved in she was the talk of the town. She was relatively young around 36-37 at the time, she’s a Latina woman with dark skin, she’s pretty tall for a woman around 5,7 and is very curvaceous, she easily has D cups and a big round ass. Apparently she had a husband in the military who died and she used his insurance money to buy a house in the neighborhood. Despite that from the time she moved in she was really active in the community she often cooked for the parties and organized a lot of events at our school.

The way our relationship started was one of our schools football games. I’m a linebacker for the team and even though I’m kind of short 5’9 I’m pretty buff, anyways, she cooked our entire team dinner before one of our games and I remember us exchanging glances I always found her attractive and I knew most women found me attractive. After the game was done she told me to drive to her house so that I can use her sauna to relax my muscles.

I drove to her house after the game and I just texted my parents that I was hanging with the boys after the win. When I got there I knocked on her door and she opened it immediately as if she had been waiting. Immediately she greeted me and congratulated me on the win and told me I played hard and that “I looked so good on the field”. She was still wearing the same tight jeans and and shirt with our teams logo on it. She handed me a towel and a box and told me to undress in her bedroom and put the clothes in the box for her to wash them. I did so and took a shower. I dried off and walked out apprehensively in just my towel. I found her in the kitchen and she walked me outside to the sauna, she told me to stay in there as long as I wanted. I took of my towel and sat in the sauna. I had a perfect view of her pool and off to the side her bedroom. 10 minutes into my soak I saw her bare back through her bedroom window and I immediately got hard thinking about how she must look from the front.

I got out after a good 20 minute soak and wrapped my towel around me and went back inside her house. I heard the shower running when I walked in and I just said “Ms. Martinez” then I heard her from the bathroom yell “Oh sorry just a minute”. I stood waiting outside for a couple minutes then she walked out the shower with a robe on and a towel wrapped in her hair. She apologized and took me to her laundry room and got my clothes out the dryer. She bent down getting my clothes out revealing her ass to me, I tried looking away but it was hard to resist looking. I offered to let her get dressed in her room first but she insisted I go instead and that “she doesn’t change into anything for bed” I got dressed and she walked me out and told me whenever I wanted to that I could come use her sauna after practice.

The following week I took her up on that. I showed up to her house and knocked on her door. She didn’t answer from the front door but instead opened the side gate she was wearing one of those bikini cover ups and a sun hat. She let me in through the side and I took a shower as usual. When I walked outside she was on her pool chair sun bathing. She pulled down her sunglasses and told me “I hope you don’t mind if I sunbathe while you soak” I told her “not at all”. I was apprehensive to pull down my towel to walk in there but I did so quickly but she definitely got a good look at my butt because I saw her smile. It was awkward sitting there face to face with her across the pool with me naked and her in a tight bikini. She eventually turned on her stomach revealing her amazing ass. I couldn’t help but get a hard on at the sight of her big juicy ass in the sun. I resisted the urge to touch myself with everything I had.

After 20 minutes I got out of the sauna and she told me from her chair “you should jump in the pool and cool off before you go” she still was stomach down on her chair and she said “I’m not looking”. So I dropped my towel and dived in and swam under water to the other side of her pool. When I got to the surface she was sitting up on the edge of her chair with her sunglasses down biting her lip in a sexy way. She asked me if I minded if she jumped in with me. I told her she definitely could. She stood up and took off her hat and glasses and sat on the edge of the pool with some sunscreen in her hand. She asked me to rub her down before she got all the way in. I started from her feet to her thighs, I rubbed her belly. She put the bottle to the side and got into the pool and dived under. I was nervous because I was naked and had a raging hard on. She did laps and I got out of the pool putting my towel back on. She told me to see myself out and come again whenever I wanted. That day I masturbated as soon as I got home.

I went again to her house the day after and this time she was at her front door. She let me in and told me she was also about to get in the sauna and that we could go in together.

I showered as usual and when I opened the door she was there naked pulling her panties down. I closed the door and apologized, she told me it was ok and we both walked to her sauna in towels. We sat there and started making small talk. She asked me how football was going and then started asking me if I’ve been talking to any girls and she started getting more intimate with her questions. She asked me what type of girl I was into, if I liked them skinny or curvy and if I ever had sex. She scooted closer to me and was rubbing my chest. I had a raging hard on through my towel as her face was inches away from mine, she put her leg on me and asked me if she thought I was attractive, “very” I said and she forced her tongue down my throat. We tongue kissed and then she got up and dropped her towel revealing her body to me. I looked head to toe at her beautiful round tits to her pussy with just a strip of hair on it. I was about to unfold my towel and then she got on top of me holding my towel in place and told me “it’s getting late, how about next time” she kissed me softly and got up from on top of me and again told me to see myself out and comeback later. The next day I was tempted to skip practice and go straight to her house after school but I decided not to. When practice was over I went straight to her house and knocked on the front door. She answered barefooted in her robe, she acted natural as if nothing happened yesterday I went to her room to shower and when I came out she painting her toe nails still in her robe, she told me to go relax in the sauna for a couple minutes than come back inside. I went to the sauna and timed myself for about 5 minutes then I walked into her house in my towel and made my way to her room.

When I opened the door she was sitting there completely naked on her bed. She rolled on her stomach to the foot of her bed and motioned me to go there. I went to the foot of her bed where she was lying on her stomach with her feet in the air, she pulled off my towel and observed my dick with her fingers. She told me not to touch her at all and that she would take it from here. She started by licking my shaft up and down and circling her tongue around the head of my penis, all while staring up into my eyes. She then lifted my shaft down and started flicking her tongue up and down my balls which felt really good then she went to the other side of the bed and got her drink that was on her night stand and took an ice cube and popped it in her mouth. Then she crawled back to my dick and put it all the way in her mouth. The cold ice cube mixed with the warmness of her tongue felt so good I almost came.

Then almost as if she knew I was about to cum she got up and told me to lay down on the bed. I did so and got on the bed she stood at the edge of the bed where I was and took a sip of her drink and then climbed on the bed over my dick. She hovered over my cock, teasing me, brushing over my tip. Then she guided my right hand to her breast and my left hand to her waist. She lowered her self onto my cock and I finally felt the warm squeeze of her insides, she lightly moaned as she rode my cock. I was entranced by her body, I was squeezing her boob with one hand and feeling the rhythm of her butt on my dick with my other. She moved side to side and up and down as if she was riding me to the beat of a slow song. She moaned and gasped softly and when I was about to cum I started squirming a little, when I did this it’s like she knew I was getting ready to cum and she forced me deeper into her and started riding me in faster more deeper motions. I came all the way inside her and she stayed on top of me. When I finished she laid beside me and kissed me on my forehead. I called my parents and told them I was staying at a friends house for the night. Me and Ms. Martinez got under the covers and slept naked together that night. Part 2 Coming.

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