#V-J Day in Times Square

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

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By: Leo Shane III

Published: Feb 5, 2024

Veterans Affairs Secretary Denis McDonough is overruling plans to ban the famous Times Square kiss photo marking the end of World War II from all department health care facilities, a move criticized as political correctness run amok.

The ban was announced internally at VA medical facilities late last month in a memo from RimaAnn Nelson, the Veterans Health Administration’s top operations official. Employees were instructed to “promptly” remove any depictions of the famous photo and replace it with imagery deemed more appropriate.

“The photograph, which depicts a non-consensual act, is inconsistent with the VA’s no-tolerance policy towards sexual harassment and assault,” the memo stated.

“To foster a more trauma-informed environment that promotes the psychological safety of our employees and the veterans we serve, photographs depicting the ‘V-J Day in Times Square’ should be removed from all Veterans Health Administration facilities.”

The memo garnered public scrutiny after it was posted online by the X account EndWokeness on Tuesday.

Just hours later, McDonough took to social media to reverse the memo.

“This image is not banned from VA facilities — and we will keep it in VA facilities,” said a post from his official X account. Department officials echoed in a separate statement that “VA will NOT be banning this photo from VA facilities.”

Officials said the memo should not have been sent out and was formally rescinded on Tuesday. They did not provide details of whether senior leaders were consulted on the matter ahead of Nelson’s memo.

The photograph was taken by journalist Alfred Eisenstaedt in New York City on Aug. 14, 1945, as Americans celebrated Japan’s surrender at the end of World War II. Other journalists, including military reporters, also captured the moment.

The shot shows a U.S. sailor grabbing and kissing a woman he did not know amid a joyous, party atmosphere in Times Square. The identities of the individuals in the photo have been disputed over the years.

In her memo, Nelson noted that use of the photo in VA facilities “was initially intended to celebrate and commemorate the end of World War II and the triumphant return of American soldiers. However, perspectives on historical events and their representations evolve.”

Nelson wrote that the non-consensual nature of the kiss and “debates on consent and the appropriateness of celebrating such images” led to the decision. Senior leaders did not provide an explanation for the reversal.

VA officials could not provide details on how many facilities are currently displaying the photo and whether veterans have complained about use of the image.

McDonough has made veterans outreach and inclusion key priorities for the department over the last three years, including rewriting the VA motto with gender-neutral language.

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Activists always take it upon themselves to make themselves the center of any issue. If they feel offended, then everyone else must feel offended as well. Even - and usually especially - if the activist feels offended on someone else's behalf.

You don't get to pretend you're more offended than the people who were actually there and were actually involved.

[brandmauer]

[rabbitcruiser]

V-J/V-P Day

Following the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Emperor  Hirohito announced Japan’s acceptance to the Potsdam Declaration and  surrendered on 15th August 1945, effectively marking the end of World  War II. However, the official surrender ceremony did not occur until  over two weeks later, and thus President Truman marked 2nd September as  the official V-J Day.

Learn about V-J Day

It  is estimated that anywhere from 60 to 80 million people died during  World War II, on all sides of the conflict. V-J Day should be seen as  not only the celebration of the defeat of the tyrannical Japanese  government of the time, but also the remembrance of those who lost their  lives.

There are a number of different ways that people refer to  V-J Day. This includes V-P Day, Victory in the Pacific Day, and Victory  over Japan Day. No matter how people refer to this day, what matters is  that it is the day on which Imperial Japan surrendered in the Second  World War, marking the end of the war.

Interestingly, there are  really three different dates that can be considered the date of  surrender. The first is the 15th of August in 1945, which is when the  announcement of Japan’s surrender was made. However, in some parts of  the world, including the United States, this was actually the 14th of  August in 1945 because of the time differences.

As mentioned,  there is also the date that the official document of surrender was  signed, which was the 2nd of September in 1945. This is when the Second  World War was officially ended.

Because of this, V-J Day is  celebrated on different dates throughout the world. While the official  US commemoration occurs on the 2nd of September. In the United Kingdom,  for example, they actually celebrate V-J Day on the 15th of August.

History of V-J Day

In  order to understand the history of V-J Day, we need to delve deeper  into the history of the war and the events that happened in the build-up  to this date. On both the 6th and the 9th of August, in 1945, the  United States dropped atomic bombs on both Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The  Soviet Union also declared war on Japan on the 9th of August as well. A  day later, on the 10th of August, the government in Japan communicated  that it intended to surrender under the Potsdam Declaration terms.

Celebrations  around the world started early when they heard that Japan intended to  surrender. In Paris, Frenchmen and Americans paraded and sang “Don’t  Fence Me In” on Champs-Élysées. On the streets of London, on Regent  Street, allied soldiers danced in a conga line.

It was six days  later, on the 15th of August, a little bit after noon Japan Standard  Time, that it was announced that Japan had accepted the Potsdam  Declaration. Emperor Hirohito made the announcement over the radio to  the people of Japan. Once the declaration had been signed, the  celebrations across the world really ramped up.

In fact, in Life Magazine, they reported the following about Americans celebrating:

It was “as if joy had been rationed and saved up for the three years, eight months and seven days since Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941”

There were a number of different terms that were included within the declaration. This included the following:

“We  do not intend that the Japanese shall be enslaved as a race or  destroyed as a nation, but stern justice shall be meted out to all war  criminals, including those who have visited cruelties upon our  prisoners.”

“The Japanese military forces, after being  completely disarmed, shall be permitted to return to their homes with  the opportunity to lead peaceful and productive lives.”

“Japanese  sovereignty shall be limited to the islands of Honshu, Hokkaido,  Kyushu, Shikoku, and such minor islands as we determine.”

Why not take a look at the Potsdam Declaration in full to learn more about V-J Day?

How to celebrate V-J Day

There  are a lot of different ways that you can celebrate V-J Day. A lot of  people have street parties and celebrate with their neighbors and their  friends and families. This is something that people enjoy all over the  world. It is an opportunity to be patriotic and show your love for the  country you were born in. People like to hang up posters and bunting  with their national flags, as well as enjoying traditional food and  alcohol. What better excuse to have a party?

Of course, we cannot  mention V-J Day without paying tribute to all of the men and women who  lost their lives during World War Two. There are many different  memorials and marks of honor that go on around the world on this day. As  individuals, it is important that we all take a moment to reflect on  those brave people who went to war for their country, with some never  returning. Every year, it helps to learn more about the war and about  the people who lost their lives. Pay honor to them and their families by  researching these people as individuals and sparing some time to think  about them.

You can also spend V-J Day learning more about the  war. After all, there were many battles that were fought, and there are  many documents, textbooks, and research papers on the war and the  build-up of it. After all, years and years were spent in battle, and so  there is a lot to read about. Enrich your knowledge so that you can have  a better understanding of what the men and the women of your country  went through during this period.

You can also learn more about the  Japanese surrender. The start of the surrender can probably be dated  back to the Battle of Okinawa, which started on the 1st of April and  ended on the 21st of June in 1945. During this battle, there were more  than 117,000 Japanese casualties, and over 82,000 U.S. casualties. It is  also estimated that approximately one-fourth of the civilian population  of Okinawan died, with a lot of people dying in mass suicides that the  Imperial Japanese Army had organized. A month later, on the 26th of  July, the Potsdam Declaration was issued. Truman stated the following to  Japan:

“Surrender or suffer prompt and utter destruction.”

At the time, the declaration was rejected, but as we all know today, it then came to be accepted a month later.

It  is important to remember that V-J Day is about more than just victory,  though. We should think about all of the men and women, on both sides of  the battle, who lost their lives, as well as the innocent civilians who  were caught up in the middle of a horrific war. On V-J Day, we salute  you.

Source

[aiiaiiiyo]

[sleepyjaneart]

November sketches. Yep, still on my bullshit…

[secretly-your-history-professor]

happy v-e day everyone (between today and tuesday really, depending on where you live) <:

[emmieexplores2]

V-J Day in Times Square and Around the Country, August 14, 1945 - LIFE

[thatwildwolfart]

the menae reunion in garrus's head or something (low-key based on V-J Day in Times Square)

behold my wonderful tiny background reapers. fear them.

[t00thpasteface]

ok here's the sitch guys. i've been drawing fun doodles on the whiteboard in my dorm hallway and collaborating with randos for a couple months now. except now someone (literally idk who) is erasing people's drawings literally just to be petty. like just dragging their thumb through the cute faces to wipe off a big stripe.

it has escalated to the point where nothing stays intact longer than a day and the student in charge of keeping the peace in our hallway had to basically issue a cease & desist on our groupme.

SO MY QUESTION IS. what's my next move.

[vintage-every-day]

Alfred Eisenstaedt’s iconic photo: A jubilant American sailor clutched a dental assistant in a back-bending kiss at a moment of spontaneous joy about the long awaited WWII victory over Japan. Taken on V-J Day, 1945, as thousands jammed Times Square.

[corroded-hellfire]

Hello! I'm absolutely in love with your work and I'm always just so friggin' happy whenever a new one gets published.

If it's alright with you, I'd like to request an Eddie x Reader inspired by the song "Centerfold" by The J. Geils Band. The song's been stuck in my mind for days now and I just can't help hearing the song from Eddie's point of view.

Hope you're doing great!

I love this song so this was so fun to write! Thank you for your kind words and for requesting!

Warnings: smut, p in v, mention of unprotected sex, language, I think that’s it?

Words: 6.9k

Eddie had been on the road for months now. The roar of the crowd every night filled his veins with adrenaline and his heart with contentment. But once the buzz faded and the lights went off, Eddie would find himself in his bunk on the tour bus, trying to catch some much-needed sleep as the driver took them to their next tour stop. The gentle rock of the large bus back and forth on the road usually lulled Eddie to sleep eventually, but tonight, he seemed to feel every little bump and pothole on the interstate. 

“Holy shit.”

Gareth is always making a big deal out of the stupidest shit, so Eddie didn’t bother pulling open the small curtain to his bunk and looking up at the bed above him. He was honestly surprised that Gareth wasn’t asleep yet, because he was well known to be the one who passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

“Dude.”

Still, Eddie doesn’t answer.

“Eddie? You awake?”

The lead guitarist rolls his eyes and pushes the short curtain open.

“What?”

Gareth peeks his head over the edge of the bunk, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Uncomfortable is an odd look on Gareth, as he’s usually unfazed by anything and everything. That alone has Eddie intrigued.

“Dude, what?” Eddie asks again.

“Shit, I don’t know if I should tell you,” Gareth says.

“You shouted for me multiple times while I’m trying to sleep. You better damn well tell me.”

His friend’s head disappears back into the bunk and Eddie lets out a longsuffering sigh. There’s rustling coming from above him and instead of Gareth popping back into view like he expects, something falls down and smacks Eddie square in the face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, glaring up at the higher bunk. There’s no response though, which has Eddie huffing again in anger before he looks down at what hit him. It’s a copy of XXXTRA, the popular adult magazine, that Eddie is no stranger to. Gareth’s never shared porn with him before, and if he was being honest, Eddie found it a little weird. Especially since he’d be up there in his bunk with it. As if his friend can read his mind, Gareth calls down.

“I just opened it, Jesus Christ. Turn to the centerfold.”

With a sigh, Eddie swipes the magazine from the floor and lays back in his bed. Making himself comfortable, he flips through the pages until he comes to the very middle of the magazine. When he does, Eddie’s heart seizes in his chest, and he feels his blood run cold. The black negligee is short and skimpy, the lace neckline – if it could be called that – dipped low between the breasts, keeping a small portion of the swell of her chest covered. Or it would be if the whole negligee wasn’t completely sheer, showing off her impressive natural breasts. It’s a sexy piece of lingerie on its own, but the woman wearing it is far sexier. She was also Eddie’s high school sweetheart. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie echoes Gareth’s words from earlier. 

“Right?” Gareth says from above him, and Eddie raises his leg to kick the bottom of his bandmate’s bunk. 

“Not another word,” Eddie snaps. His eyes scan over your body on the glossy print again, an odd mixture of confused and aroused. The fact that Gareth saw this – saw you like this – has Eddie gripping the edges of the magazine tighter in his hands. But then it occurs to him: everyone who bought this magazine would see you like this. See you in the provocative position you’re sitting in, leaning in towards the camera, black lace laying against your soft skin. At least Eddie knew from experience that your skin was soft. Not everyone who holds the magazine could say that. 

He drops the magazine down on his chest and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s been almost a decade since Eddie’s seen you, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you from time to time. Even when he’s laying alone in a hotel room, fist wrapped around his cock, remembering all the times and places you two fooled around back in high school. The breakup was mutual and heartbreaking, but unavoidable as you went off to college and Corroded Coffin set off to make their dreams come true. None of it changed the fact that there was a special place held in Eddie’s heart just for you.

Mrs. O’Donnell drones on and on, sounding like the teachers from Charlie Brown the more she speaks. Eddie does his best to listen – he really does, but it’s so hard when the words are all blending together into one cacophonous sound. It’s the crone’s own fault, really, when his mind drifts far from the subject of World War II and onto the dress you’re wearing today. A cute green floral sundress, long enough to keep Eddie from going all alpha male jealous, but still short enough to keep his eyes glued to the backs of your thighs as you walked. The cotton was so soft as he rubbed his hands over your waist and hips this morning, pulling your body against his just because he never wanted to let you go. All of your curves were accentuated perfectly, and the color brought out your eyes so much that Eddie was pretty sure this was his favorite outfit of yours ever. Well, favorite outfit that you could wear in public.

A tap against his knee catches Eddie’s attention and he notices your hand underneath his desk, a slip of paper between your fingers. He slips the note from your grip, squeezing your hand before he reluctantly lets go of it. Your stifled giggle brings a smile to his face as he unfolds your note.

What’re you thinking about? Your face is especially cute 

Eddie does a double take to make sure O’Donnell isn’t looking his way before grabbing his pencil and scribbling down a reply. He drops the note on your desk, poking you in the side to make you squirm before containing himself back in his own seat.

Funny you should ask! I was thinking about you and that sexy little dress. So if you see my fly straining over my crotch, you know why

Eddie watches your face go scarlet as you read the letter, quickly crumbling the paper up and shoving it in your backpack so no one else can see what it says. Mrs. O’Donnell was notorious for making people read notes they’ve passed out loud and you’d be damned if you were going to have to speak Eddie’s words out loud to the whole class. 

Lucky for you, the bell rings so there’s no time for your teacher to catch your note passing. Eddie takes your hand in his as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. 

“Your house?” Eddie asks as the two of you walk down the hallway towards the school exit. 

“Yeah. Unless you’re too eager and need to take me in the back of your van?” You shoot a smirk at your boyfriend, and he bites his lip to suppress a moan.

“Fuck, don’t tempt me.” He slings an arm over your shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

The whole ride to your place, Eddie keeps his hand on your thigh, inching it higher every few minutes, and telling you all the things he wants to do to you once you get there. He does it partially because it turns him on, but mostly because he loves seeing you get all flushed and shy. The two of you may have been together for over three years now, but he could still turn you into a blushing, stuttering mess. 

As you try to unlock your front door, Eddie’s hands are moving up and down your body and he’s pressing kisses to the back of your neck. 

“Eddie!” You let out a squeal as he digs his fingers into the softness of your tummy. 

“Can’t help it,” Eddie mumbles into your hair. “You’re just so cute, angel.”

No sooner than you’ve stepped in the house does Eddie have you pinned up against the closed door. His lips are on yours and his hands are pushing your dress up your hips. The moan that leaves your lips is involuntary as your arms loop around his neck. 

Eddie’s large hand cups the back of your thigh and hoists your leg around his hip. His lips break from yours and he trails his mouth down to your jaw, teeth scraping against your skin. 

“M-My room,” you say.

“Too far,” Eddie speaks against your skin. “Need you here.”

“Against the front door?” you ask with a breathy laugh.

“Guess we could make the few steps to the couch.” 

At Eddie’s pat on your ass, you jump up and wrap your other leg around his hips. Hands braced on your ass and teeth nipping at your neck, Eddie takes you over to the couch on the other side of the room. You land on your back, legs tightening around him, so he falls down on top of you. 

You’re pushing Eddie’s leather jacket off his shoulders as he grinds his hips into yours, the friction over your thin cotton panties making your eyes roll back in your head. Eddie’s quick to strip himself of his shirt and his fingers tangle in the material of your dress as he struggles to get it over your head.

“Eddie!” You giggle as you help him shuck it off. “So impatient, baby.”

“Can’t help it,” Eddie says, mouthing at the lace cups of your bra. “You’re too perfect. Drive me crazy.”

Reaching behind you, you unclasp your bra and slip it down your arms, allowing Eddie to bite at the cup and throw it from your body like a dog letting go of a bone. His mouth comes right back to your breast, tongue lapping over your nipple before wrapping his lips around it, his hand coming up to massage your other breast. Your fingers tangle in your boyfriend’s hair and your hips buck up against his, making him moan around your nipple. The vibrations send a tingle up your spine and cause you to whimper.

“Eddie,” you whine. “Need you.”

With a pop, Eddie lets go of your nipple and presses kisses along the valley between your breasts. 

“Need me how, angel?” he asks.

“Inside me. Please.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Eddie says, already shimmying his jeans down his hips. He’s already slipped the condom from his pocket and tossed it onto your tummy. You work on opening the foil packet as Eddie frees the both of you from your underwear. 

Eddie reaches down and runs his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick before moving back up to your clit. He rubs tight circles over the sensitive nub, making your hands stall over the condom. 

“Fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan, Eddie smirking in satisfaction as he presses sweet kisses up your shoulder and across your collarbones. 

“Such language, baby,” he teases. 

“You’re one to talk,” you say with a laugh. Reaching down and wrapping your hand around his cock shuts him up. Eddie squeezes his eyes closed as you work the condom down his length, making sure to touch him as much as possible as you do. He twitches in your hand as you give him one final squeeze before moving your hand away. “Excited, handsome?”

“For my favorite pussy? Hell yes.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, hands running up his chest.

“Only pussy you’ve ever had, Eds.”

“I don’t need any other to know this is my favorite,” Eddie says between hot wet kisses against your neck. “You’re saying you’d need another dick to know mine is your favorite?” He takes a hold of himself in his hand, rubbing his aching tip through your soaked folds. 

“N-Never,” you moan. “Only dick I’ve ever had, only one I ever want.” 

“Good,” Eddie says as he starts to push inside of you. “I love being your one and only.” Your fingernails dig into Eddie’s shoulders as he thrusts more of himself into you. The way he stretches you out always feels perfect, every single time. “Only cock you’ve ever had.” He places a kiss to your lips. “Only boyfriend you’ve ever had.” Another kiss. “Only kiss you’ve ever had.” Another kiss. 

“You just love corrupting me, don’t you?” you ask in between heavy breaths. Eddie’s hips buck at your question, and you think you’ve got your answer. 

“Shit,” Eddie says as he buries himself in you fully. “Swear you get tighter every time.”

“Maybe you just get bigger,” you say with a playful smirk.

“Gonna give me a big head, baby.”

Eddie already knows he’s not going to be able to last terribly long, having been aching for you all day. It’s your fault, really, how much you turn him on just walking down the halls or tapping the eraser of your pencil against your perfectly glossed lips. 

He slips two fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue, causing you to moan at his forcefulness. His hips keep a steady pace as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, sucking on them just enough to make his hips stutter. Your mouth let's go with a wet smack and Eddie lowers his spit-coated fingers to your clit, working against your nub in the way he knew drove you absolutely wild. 

Lips parting and eyes closing in pleasure, you lose yourself in the pressure of Eddie’s fingers and the absolute fullness of his cock nestled inside of you. 

“Feel good, angel?” Eddie asks.

Unable to speak, you nod your head, nails digging in even deeper to the pale skin of Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Good,” Eddie says, adding a little extra pressure to your clit. “Want you to cum on my cock, baby. Fuck, you know how much I love that.”

It’s true – Eddie’s pretty sure he could cum just from the feeling of your walls spasming around him and absolutely soaking all the way down to his balls. 

“Close,” you whimper, forcing your eyes open to look at your boyfriend above you. He’s flushed, sweat forcing some of his hair to stick to his forehead, and tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he works himself in and out of you at a steady pace. The sight makes you smile, and what you don’t know is that Eddie’s admiring the view of you as well. He takes in how your forehead is creased from the pleasure you feel, tits bouncing every time he presses into you, and your hair splayed out around you like a halo, making you look like the angel you are. 

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages, his hips speeding up. Your back arches in pleasure as his angle changes and he pounds into that perfect spongey spot inside of you. 

“There! Fuck, right there, Eddie.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says. 

Between Eddie’s cock ramming into that spot repeatedly and his fingers dancing over your clit deliciously, you feel yourself steadily reaching your climax. 

Eddie presses soft and sweet kisses up your neck and side of your face as you chant his name over and over again, the tenderness pushing you over the edge. Moaning out into the quiet house, your wave of pleasure crashes over you, sparks dancing in your vision. The clenching of your already tight walls around him has Eddie following you over the edge. His hips stutter once, twice before he’s releasing into the condom, fingers helping you through your own orgasm. Your boyfriend’s groans make the warm feeling in your tummy last even longer, thinking there could be nothing sexier in this world than the sounds Eddie makes. 

Once he’s spent, having spilled every bit of cum you’ve milked from him into the condom, Eddie drops his head into the crook of your neck and lets some of his body weight rest on you. Having him on top of you like this felt almost as wonderful as having him inside of you. You feel safe and loved with Eddie’s skin pressed against yours like this. His sweat melts with yours and both of you have matching smiles on your faces as you try to catch your breaths. 

“I love you,” Eddie says.

“I love you too,” you tell him. His smile grows when you brush some of his damp hair from his forehead, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls out of you, the pair of you hissing at the loss together. He rolls himself onto the floor and you giggle, turning your head to look down at your boyfriend. 

“You’re the cutest,” you say.

“That title is taken by you, angel.” Eddie throws a wink your way before slipping the condom off and tying off the end. He pushes himself up off the floor and presses a kiss to your lips before going to toss the used condom away. 

Stretching out on the couch, you let your muscles loosen for a moment before sitting up. Grabbing your panties from the floor, you slip back into them and scoop up your bra and dress.

“I’m gonna go change,” you call to Eddie in the kitchen before heading towards the stairs. 

Eddie comes back into the living room, wiping the remaining sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He hops back into his boxers and jeans, tossing his leather jacket over an armchair before he slips his Iron Maiden shirt back over his head. You come back into the room, an old pair of Eddie’s sweatpants hung low on your hips and your softest sweater keeping you warm. Eddie drops down onto the couch and you plop down next to him. When you turn your head to smile up at him, he feels his head go fuzzy and his stomach trembles like he’s swallowed a vibrator. 

“What?” you ask of the shy look on his face. 

“Nothing,” he says, looking into your eyes. “I’m just really in love with you. And you have gorgeous eyes.”

You let out a giggle as you feel yourself getting flustered. 

“You’re one to talk about gorgeous eyes,” you say. 

He grins and slides an arm around your shoulders, melting into your touch when the soft sweater meets the skin of his arm. You tuck your hands up in the long green sleeves of the sweater and lean into his side. 

“I love this sweater, too,” Eddie says. “You should wear it to school tomorrow.”

“Eddie, you would get detention before the end of homeroom.”

“Why?” he asks, brow furrowing.

“You wouldn’t keep your hands off of me,” you say with a laugh. “It seems to be a magical sweater that just draws your hands in.”

He gives an overly dramatic roll of his eyes and wraps both arms around you, hugging you and the sweater against his chest. 

“That’s nothing new, though. Mr. Martin is used to it by now,” Eddie says of your homeroom teacher. 

“I guess as long as your hands don’t slip under the sweater it will be okay.”

“Nah,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ll leave that for second period.”

Eddie can’t stop looking or thinking about your picture in the centerfold for days. Gareth knows better than to mention it, and if he told the other guys, they’re smart enough not to say anything either. Every song they play at every show reminds him of you in some way. His mind even makes leaps to connect you with songs that have nothing to do with love or heartbreak at all. You haven’t invaded his mind this consistently for nearly a decade. 

The show tonight in New York City is one of the largest crowds that Corroded Coffin has had in a while and Eddie is finding it harder to care than he usually would. He lives for big crowds, but his heart hasn’t been in the music for the past few days. The rest of the band could tell, but again, wouldn’t say anything to him about it.

Eddie knows that whatever is going on with him has to do with you, but he can’t put his finger on what exactly it is that’s bothering him. It’s not the fact that you’re in the centerfold; Eddie knows you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions. Though he is curious what led you from shy book worm to the hottest centerfold he’s ever seen. He’s a big enough man to admit that he’s a little jealous that others get to see you like he once did, but that’s not what’s really getting to him. The more he tries to figure it out, the more the reason seems to evade him. 

After the sound check and before show time, Eddie walks into the green room to see Jeff lounging on the couch, his girlfriend perched on his lap.

“Hey, Kathy!” Eddie greets her with a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” 

“Neither did Jeff,” she says with a giggle.

“She surprised me,” Jeff explains, a giddy smile on his face as he squeezes his girlfriend in his arms. 

Eddie takes a seat at the small table in the room, a bowl of pretzels waiting there. His thick fingers pull a few out and as he’s popping them in his mouth, he notices Jeff and Kathy with their heads together, whispering and laughing. An odd feeling rolls through Eddie’s stomach and that’s when it finally hits him. He misses you. Sure, he’s had girlfriends since you’d been together, and he’s even fallen in love since then too. And maybe when he’d been with those girls he’d thought it felt different than when he was with you, but he’d just assumed that was because you were his first love. Didn’t people say that’s something that always stays with you? But maybe it was something more than that. 

“You ready?”

Gareth’s voice breaks Eddie from his thoughts, his head snapping to look at his bandmate standing in the doorway. Gareth is looking between Eddie and Jeff, raising his eyebrows at them like they forgot they had a show to put on. Jeff gives Kathy one last kiss before he and Eddie follow their friend out, headed towards the stage.

It’s a great show. Something always felt different playing in New York City and tonight was no exception. The crowd seemed louder; the music seemed to pump through Eddie’s veins with every chord. He flung his pick into the audience after the set, and the screaming girl who caught it made him laugh. Nothing like New York. 

“Dude,” Grant says as Eddie’s inhaling a bottle of water back in the green room. He just raises his eyebrows at his friend while he continues chugging. “Party a few blocks over. It sounds pretty fucking amazing.”

I really don’t want to party, Eddie thinks. What the fuck, dude? He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Since when do you not want to go to an after party? Get it the fuck together.

“Uh, sure,” Eddie says. “Just let me get changed.” 

The party is in some penthouse that has way too many bodies and not nearly enough ventilation in it. Eddie walks in with his friends and Kathy, eyes scanning the place to see where he can grab a drink. There’s a bar over in the corner with a few bartenders on duty. Eddie tries to imagine any of the parties he went to in high school having an actual bartender. 

He makes his way over and orders a Whiskey Highball, Gareth right behind him ordering a Jack and Coke. Once they’ve got their drinks, Gareth spots a girl that he's “just got to talk to” and leaves Eddie standing there by himself. Letting out a sigh, Eddie makes his way into the room, eyes taking in the different people drinking, talking, making out, laughing, all under the shitty dim lighting coming from somewhere; Eddie couldn’t even figure out where from. 

A girl approaches him, and he flips the switch to turn on his charm. Eddie takes in her long legs, her dark skin, and mini dress she’s wearing that looks completely made up of sequins. It’s a lot, but the dim lighting is keeping the glare from hitting him in the eyes. 

“You look familiar,” the girl says.

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe you’ve seen my band play.”

“Hmm, so drummer?” she asks. 

“Guitarist.” Eddie acts like he’s offended, placing his hand on his chest. “You think these talented fingers are only used for holding drumsticks?” 

She giggles and Eddie can’t help but notice how pretty her smile is. She’s a pretty girl in general, but her smile is her best feature. 

“I’m Eddie.” 

She introduces herself and his stomach drops when she introduces herself with the same first name that you have. 

“T-That’s a nice name,” Eddie says, game completely thrown off at this point. 

“Thanks!” She continues to talk but Eddie doesn’t hear a word she’s saying. All he’s thinking about is how to get out of this conversation because there’s no way he can deal with spending time with someone who has the same name as you. He doesn’t know why, he just knows he can’t do it. 

When she finishes speaking, Eddie sends her an apologetic look.

“I’m so sorry, but I actually just saw someone that I need to talk to.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she says with her pretty smile. “Maybe I’ll see you in a little while?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. No, Eddie thinks. 

He tries to find one of his friends to talk to, just in case she was watching, Eddie didn’t want her to think he was trying to ditch her. Even though he kind of was. But none of his band mates are in sight so Eddie settles for claiming an empty seat he’s spotted on a purple couch near the large windows exposing the New York Skyline, all lit up in the darkness. 

There’s a woman sitting next to Eddie, and she turns to give him a smile. Her hair is even curlier than his is and he admits he finds that impressive. 

“Hi,” she says, leaning into his space. Eddie’s never minded a woman coming into his personal space, though.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He leans against the back of the couch and crosses one leg over the other, the hand not holding his glass resting on his booted ankle. 

“What brings you to the party?” the woman asks, batting her dark eyelashes over her bright hazel eyes. 

“My friends, honestly. We finished our show and they said we had to come.”

“Show? Are you on Broadway?”

Eddie laughs at this because the mental image of him on a stage dressed like a singing cat springs to mind.

“Nah, I’m in a band. We just played a show a few blocks over,” he says. 

“Are you the lead singer?” she asks with a knowing smile.

“And lead guitarist,” Eddie says, holding his drink up as if he’s going to make a toast. She laughs and Eddie can’t help himself from asking. “I’m sorry, but, what’s your name?”

“Johnna.”

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’m Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

They start talking about being in the city, as she’s only visiting as well for an art exhibit. Eddie’s finished his drink and is moving to set it on the table in front of the couch when movement through the crowd of people catches his eye. He looks up and is stunned to his seat. His jaw drops open and he blinks his eyes a few times to make sure his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. Between two groups of people talking, standing about twenty feet away, is his angel. Eddie isn’t sure how long he’s staring before Johnna waves her hand in front of his face.

“Hello? Earth to Eddie?”

He’s snapped out of his trance and looks to Johnna hesitantly, not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a moment. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Eddie says. He bites his lip and glances back to make sure you’re still there; that he didn’t dream you up. “Um, I'm really sorry but I see someone over there I haven’t seen in almost ten years. I’ve got to go say hi.”

Johnna looks disappointed, but she nods her head. He gives her a grateful smile before he pushes himself off the purple couch and through the tightening crowd. You’ve moved from where you previously were but it’s not hard to find you in the crowd, his eyes instinctually brought to the back of your head, that sight of familiar beautiful hair. The silky emerald dress you’re wearing sways with every step you take and his eyes are drawn to the backs of your thighs. As perfect as he remembers.

Too many people keep darting in his pathway to you, making him lose his patience a little more each time. Fuck it, he decides. He’s shooting his shot. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts your name. 

You freeze on the spot, as if your heels had stepped in crazy glue. That voice. That voice calling your name. You’d know it anywhere, even in a packed party. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, you turn around and your heart not only disobeys you by continuing to race, but it also feels like it’s going to leap out of your chest and fly across the room to the one person it’s always belonged to. 

“Eddie.” His name on your lips sparks all the memories flooding back. All the makeout sessions in the back of his van, all the times you sat at the closest table to the stage when the guys had gigs at The Hideout. The way he always seemed to know when you were having a bad day and would show up to final period with flowers that he somehow managed to get. He’d never spilled his secrets on how he got them, no matter how many times you’d asked. 

Eddie finally makes his way to you, and you can’t help but just stare at his wide brown eyes and frizzy curls when he stands before you. He looks older, more mature, but he’s still the same beautiful boy you shared your first everything with. The same way he’s shoving his hands into his pockets because he’s nervous. Same smile and the same look from underneath his eyelashes. You feel like you’re going to melt. Was it always this hot in here?

“You’re here,” you say. Duh, obviously, you think to yourself. 

“And you’re here.” 

“H-How are you?” you ask. Okay, it’s definitely getting hotter in the room. 

“I’m good,” Eddie says with a smile. That smile was always your undoing and it was proving to have the same effect all these years later. “How are you?”

“Good,” you say, finding yourself getting lost in his eyes. Nothing has changed since you were 15, has it? 

The music somehow gets turned up even higher and it has you wincing.

“Do you want to go outside?” Eddie offers, gesturing towards the door. You nod and head in that direction, Eddie’s hand coming to the small of your back as if no time has passed at all. 

Your hearing is still muffled as you two stumble out onto the sidewalk in front of the building. The city’s streets were never silent, but this was far preferable to the deafening bass upstairs. 

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask, wrapping your arms around yourself in the brisk night air. Eddie doesn’t miss a thing and instantly shrugs out of his leather jacket, putting it over your shoulders. It shouldn’t make you feel as tingly as it does, but you can’t help but smile as you’re enveloped by its warmth and its familiar smell of Eddie. You hold it tighter against your body.

“We, uh, just played a show a few blocks over,” Eddie says, hiking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the venue.

“Really?” you ask, eyes wide. “If I had known I would’ve been front row. Still know all the lyrics.” You give him a proud smirk.

“Even the new ones?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows playfully. 

“Of course,” you say. “You think I don’t buy Corroded Coffin albums the day they drop? I’m no fake fan.”

Eddie laughs and reaches up to scratch the back of his head. The sound goes straight to your heart, his laughter making it soar. 

“I, uh, guess I should tell you I’ve seen your latest work, too.”

“Oh! Really?” The only difference Eddie sees between you then and now is the fact that you’re not blushing right now. High school you would’ve looked like a tomato if Eddie even suggested taking a sexy Polaroid of you. Didn’t stop you from saying yes eventually, though. 

“To be totally honest,” Eddie starts with a nervous chuckle. “Gareth saw it first and gave it to me. Or maybe I confiscated it.”

“Thank you for that,” you answer with a nervous giggle of your own. “The thought of Gareth seeing that feels weird. Nothing you haven’t seen before, though.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I don’t think you had that negligee when we were dating.”

His cheeky grin makes you giggle again, and you take a step towards him. 

“Do you think it’s weird?” You want his honest answer. Obviously, you had no problem with it, seeing as you’d done it, but you knew there would be people who didn’t approve. 

“Weird? No, not at all. Was I surprised? Hell yes. I mean, my angel is the centerfold.”

A smile lights up your face and you take another step closer to him. 

“I haven’t been called that since you.”

“What, angel?”

“Yeah. But I’m glad. Anyone else calling me that would’ve felt weird. That’s your name for me.”

“And I’ve never called anyone else it,” Eddie says, making you emotional in a way you didn’t expect. “I’m curious, though,” Eddie starts, too nervous to meet your eyes in case you take his question the wrong way. “How’d you get into…that?”

“Oh, well in my senior year of college I dated a photography student. He used me for a project – clothes on – and he got an A. Then there was a photography competition he wanted to enter, and since I brought him luck last time, he asked if I’d do it again. This one was less clothing, but still decent. He won that contest and his pictures appeared in a magazine. The people from that magazine then called and wanted me, not my boyfriend, to work for them.”

“And how’d that go?” Eddie asks with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes. “He was such a baby about it. It’s not like I asked them. He was so petty and jealous that he broke up with me. I didn’t really care though, because I felt like I’d finally seen his true colors. Anyway, the magazine had me model for a couple of issues. Mostly clothes or promo pictures for a restaurant or club or something. And so, one of the photographers at this magazine was also working for XXXTRA and knew they were looking for someone new for their centerfold. So, he showed them my picture and they asked me to do it.”

“Were you scared?” Eddie asks. His hand is fighting the urge to reach out and grab yours. 

“Yeah,” you admit with a laugh. “I didn’t want to make a career out of this, it was just an easy job that kind of fell in my lap. The centerfold would’ve been the most I’d made modeling up to that point, so I figured what the hell? I’ve always been a good, quiet girl so I thought it’d be kind of funny to think of people looking at that picture of me and imagining I’m some wild, risk-taking woman.”

“So, what’re you doing now?” Eddie asks and you shrug.

“Not sure. I got my degree in English, so I’ve been thinking of going into writing.”

“Oh, you totally should,” Eddie says, getting excited at the idea. “You always wrote the best stories in Mrs. Thompson’s class.” 

Eddie’s compliment has your face warming and it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. Eddie looks at you and sees his girl, completely and wholly. 

“You never told me why you’re in New York,” Eddie says.

“Oh, yeah! One of my best friends from college had her opening night on Broadway tonight. We came here after the opening night party.”

“That’s pretty cool. Was the show good?”

“It really was! I hope it’s not one of those ones that just doesn't get the recognition it deserves.”

“What’s it called?” Eddie asks.

“Rent.”

“Huh. Weird name.”

“Says the guy who came up with the name Corroded Coffin.” Your smirk makes Eddie want to pull you into his arms and kiss all over your face. 

“How long are you in town?” you ask Eddie.

“Bus leaves tomorrow afternoon. Gotta head to Philly next. What about you?”

“Flying home tomorrow, too,” you say.

“Where’s home now?”

“Hawkins.” You say the town’s name with a smile, and it makes Eddie think back fondly on the town as well. 

“Home sweet home,” Eddie says. 

“Listen, um…” You bite your lip, nervous in front of Eddie for the first time since…well, probably your first time. “I don’t know if you have a girlfriend or something, but if you don’t, do you maybe want to get breakfast together in the morning? Catch up?”

“No girlfriend,” Eddie says, taking a step to close the ever-shrinking gap between the two of you. “And I would love to have breakfast with you. Hell, I’d sit on the sidewalk and eat a soft pretzel from that cart down there just to spend time with you.”

His favorite blush in the world comes to your cheeks and Eddie wonders how he ever lived without that in his life. 

“Well, my rental car is right there,” you say, nodding your head towards a black Toyota. “That’s probably more comfortable than the sidewalk.”

“You rented a car in New York City?” Eddie asks with a laugh.

“I rented that car from Boston and drove it here, thank you very much.”

“Why were you – oh shit, were you visiting Nancy and Steve? Meet the new baby?”

“I sure did,” you say with a bright grin. “Little Elliot already has his daddy’s hair.” 

“Poor kid,” Eddie teases. You chuckle and reach out to grab his hand with yours. He laces his fingers with yours and it just feels right. Natural. Like it’s only been hours since you’d held one another's hands and not years. 

“Come on,” you say and tug Eddie in the direction of your car. Once you’re both inside, the question that’s been begging to be asked finally slips out.

“Do you, uh, want to come back to my hotel room?” 

Eddie takes in your nervous expression, like you’re afraid he’ll say no. He takes in your green dress, your gorgeous eyes, and everything he’s been missing. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Unless you’re too eager and need to take me in the back of your car?”

The memory of you saying something very similar to him in high school makes you laugh as you turn the key to start the ignition. 

“Don’t tempt me,” you answer. 

The next morning you both decide to forgo breakfast. Another round of sex and cuddling takes precedence over food. And sleep, seeing as you both got less than three hours of sleep the whole night. Much of it was spent talking, catching up on what’s happened in the years since you’ve been together. Admissions of you both thinking of each other often over the years and heartfelt confessions that both of you want this to be something more than just a one-night reunion. You can write from the road if you want, Eddie tells you. He even promises to buy you the fanciest typewriter to keep on the tour bus. It sounds perfect. Being with Eddie everyday sounds like a dream come true. 

The sun is peeking in through the curtain of the hotel room, rays casting over the white blankets you and Eddie are curled up underneath. Heads facing each other on the same pillow, Eddie’s hand cups the side of your face and strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. You two had celebrated all your firsts together. First kiss, first relationship, first time having sex, first heartbreak. Even just last night you’d had another first together when you’d forgone the condom because you wanted to feel one another as close as possible. It was the first time either of you had that complete skin to skin contact during sex. 

Eddie wants all the firsts and onlys with you. He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. Only fiancé. Another kiss. Only husband. Another kiss. Only father of your children. Another kiss. Only love of your life. 

[rabbitcruiser]

Japan accepted the Allied terms of surrender in World War II and the Emperor records the Imperial Rescript on Surrender on August 14, 1945 (August 15 in Japan Standard Time).  

[birchbow]

CLOWN CHURCH THE COLLECTION

For the me and my readers both; my reference document for Clown Church nonsense. Compiled character ref, clown scriptures, fleet ships, saints, schoolfeeder names and specialties, etc. Subject to change and additions.

EDIT: nice lmao

--

Griefing Specializations

Subjugglator – frontline barbarian/tank, high damage low defense.  Not much concerned with stealth, not worried about taking hits.  Ex:  Feeder Rissan, Sungazer, Cisine, Khalse, Travye. 

Laughsassin – stealth and assassination, not good at taking hits but very good at infiltration.  Quieter/subtler weapons, or the strength and size to make one hit count.  Mime-inspired paint.  Ex: Rishet, Kurloz, Untoxxic, Hurrel

Contorturenist – field interrogation experts, armored, usually with long-distance weapons.  Clean-up crew for missions where information will need to be extracted during the process of the mission.  Ex:  Ianche and Verato Uderak, Yettah

Acrobatterer – frontline opportunist, experts in speed and evasion.  Many lighter, faster hits instead of one heavy one.  Better at taking prisoners.  Friendly rivalry with the subjugglators, because they’ll often use a noisy, head-on assault as a distraction to opportunistically whack their target on the head—sound tactics or cowardly cull-stealing depending on who you ask.  Ex: Ravell and Raywar Olemma.  If asked, some of the younger clowns would probably group Karkat here. 

Gymnabsolutionist – On missions, a form of field chaplain, praying for fallen faithful to make sure the messiahs took note of their sick-ass sacrifice.  On-fleet, spiritual council and advisors.  The oldest is expected to lay to rest the soul of the previous Grand Highblood and help the new one through their prayers/vows, although this role hasn’t come into play in a very, very long time.

Joker – Not technically a position you can train for, but colloquially a highblood who multi-classes or whose style and focus doesn’t fit neatly into a category.  Gamzee is technically a subjugglator (very big, doesn’t give a shit if he gets hit) but can rapidly flip to acrobatterer tactics. Travye's bonekind uses subjugglator style, but his bookkind doesn't fall into a category.

--

Saints And Martyrs

Saint Mortor the Defender — Burned alive to protect other purplebloods from lowbloods; like his giant salamander lusus, he proved incredibly hard to burn, and his execution pyre burned for a night and a day.  Saint of aspiring martyrs.

Saint Trasti — Prayed to the messiahs for vengeance as she was cut apart by lowbloods; when they burned her corpse, the messiahs listened and brought up a plague from her ashes.  Prayers to bring a plague on your enemies or for sick/poisoned faithful

Saint Ekorot — Patron saint of pupation and cocoons, and especially the faithful who die during pupation. One of the oldest saints, said to have hatched with the lower half of her body deformed/largely missing and survived a perigee before being found by the church, surrounded by dead lowbloods and wild animals she'd killed. She was sanctified on the spot because lo, it was fucking dope as hell.

Her bladekind became the Knife of Messiahs' Mercy, the weapon the Grand Highblood uses for ceremonial culling of the faithful (By the new Grand Highblood to finish off their predecessor after the fight is won, when church kin pupate too malformed to live or are so deeply wounded in battle they won't survive, etc).

Saint Jakill — Fought an entire army despite being ripped to increasingly brutal pieces. Refused to go down, until his skull was finally split with his own hatchet. Patron saint of berserkers, death-rages and suicide missions.

--

Schoolfeeders Of The Flagship Dark Carnival

Halore Travye — The Stædfast, advanced scripture and exegesis.

Separates his letters with an extra space, capitalizes nouns and the letter I. Square bracket smiles/frowns.

"sacredDidaction: T h e q u I c k b r o w n F o x j u m p e d o v e r t h e l a z y D o g . : o ["

Veneno Krelle — The Untoxxic, advanced mediculling, poisons/antidotes.

Doubles Xs and inserts them in place of similar sounds. X-eyed smiles/frowns. When speaking they tend to have difficulty finding and forming words due to a long, long career being exposed to all sorts of neurotoxins and poisons.

"abstersiveDetoxifier: If you axx me, the foxx has better things to be doing. X...X" (=uX, XnX XsX)

Ianche Uderak — The Inquirer, advanced information management/propaganda.

Hisses on S, ends all sentences as questions except the occasional Shocking Headline. Snake-tongued faces.

"mortalRigor: Sssso why wasss the fox with the dog at all? >:oY Ssscandal!! Quick Brown Fox Hass Torrid Pitch Affair With Ssslothful Barkbeasst?"

Arelux Stelos — The Sungazer, schoolfeeder of galactic navigation, omens and starcraft. 

Starts and ends with ~* and *~, replaces I and O with 1 and 0. Tends to trail out words and emphasize with capitals and multiple asterisks/punctuation when worked up, which is often. Smiles/ frowns have starry eyes.

"grandlyCosmic: ~*000h mess1ahs you w1ll **never** bel1eve what the STARS told me today about the fox's dest1ny!!!!*~ *u*

Belico Rissan — Warmaker, Combat/griefing, avid collector of various strife specibi

Largely normal clown syntax but will frequently phrase things with all-caps over-the-top violent language. Doesn't bother to capitalize or use periods but an avid user of exclamation points.

"sanguineEclectica: the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy barkbeast and landed in THE PIT OF A SPIKED AND BLOOD-PUTRID CULL-TRAP as a lesson to complacent wrigglers everywhere! :o)"

Karkat Vantas — Schoolfeeder of quadrantcraft, originally as a joke, but unfortunately for all the elder members of the church the new baby clowns don't know that and he's increasingly accepted and legitimized with every class he teaches.

Minera Tresor — Scriptural basics (deceased)

--

The Holy Holidays

TURNING NIGHT/DAY

The troll equivalent on New Years Night/Day; for most of the population it's a raucous all-caste night of celebrating that they've made it another sweep without dying. For the church it's their most sober holiday, a reminder that another sweep came and went without the promised Vast Honk and Dark Carnival. Faces are painted white (funeral paint) during the night, and in the morning everyone takes off their paint entirely until the new sweep is rung in at noon.

In the meantime, it's expected everyone will spend the night/day fasting from food and drinks, and tempting themselves with things they want or enjoy, whether that's making your favorite food and not eating it, or hooking up with a quadrant and then breaking off before either of you are satisfied.

Then at noon everybody goes buckwild and indulges until they're sick.

ALL COLORS WEEK

A very rowdy church-wide holiday. Work forbidden, only fun and capricious impulse. Copious colored clothes and decorations, painting, and powder dye are rampant. It’s traditional to stash little brightly-colored objects (and vials of blood) throughout the rest of the sweep and then hang them out a day at a time through the week so that the decorations get slowly more colorful and vivid.  They lump the seadwellers in with the rustbloods and the last colors to get hung up on the last day are the colors of the church.  

There’s also a different major saint for each day, which some people remember to pray to and some people don’t.  There’s a lot less quiet internal prayer at this point too--if you have something for a saint or messiah to hear, you probably shout it.  

Also; massive games of--essentially--capture the flag.  Teams are assigned according to age group, with the youngest/most numerous cohort starting on the first day.  They’re split in half into a team with a seadweller-color flag and rustblood-color flag, which they play for for the first day.  After that the next age-group comes in with their color, and all three teams try to collect the flags, and onward and upward until the schoolfeeders and generals come in to play, each with an incredibly high-point-value purple flag.  You have to challenge them to a duel to win one, in whatever area they teach/specialize in.  It’s pretty widely assumed that you won’t actually beat them, they just respect your attempt enough to hand it over, but if you do everybody is like !!!!!!! WOW HOLY SHIT DUDE and you’re a hero to the rest of your team.  The points system is pretty unofficial but the more flags you have, and the higher the blood color of those flags, the more you “score”.  Winner gets preferential treatment for the next two weeks.

--

Ships Of The Holy Fleet

Names of ships are subject to change when a new captain takes over, although they aren’t always changed—when Kurloz joined the fleet, the flagship was the Painted Disciple, and Kurloz changed the name to the Dark Carnival after he successfully challenged the previous Grand Highblood. 

The Blessed is intensely focused on prayer and meditation and prophesy—much less in the way of combat training etc.  You can get religious training anywhere on the fleet, esp. the flagship, but if you want to basically focus your life on spirituality the Blessed is full of like-minded trolls.  

The Orisoner is Just Straight Up Vibing to an extent that many trolls find unnerving, but the crew of the Blessed are absolutely ride or die with her/him/them/etc. His powers are 100% min-maxed into sucking hate/rage/fear out of people, and the resulting good vibes and soft euphoria are a powerful (and borderline addictive) combination. Secretly terrifying, because nobody wins fights against her--because very few people can even bring themselves to lift a hand against them in the first place.

irenicDevotion: no caps, sooo many smilies :o) and just like... emphasis extensions my duuude :oD copafuckincetic

The Sinner is a party boat, which is considered an act of worship in and of itself.  People just get rowdy and wild and live it up at all times.  If there was air in space, you would be able to hear it as you approached to board—when it’s landed, you can hear it, and it’s super eerie.  Lots of trolls whooping and honking and shouting in a big metal box.

The Libation's powers are addictive in a different way; he's physically intoxicating to be around. If he focuses, he can easily have most people, especially people who aren't used to being drunk/high, blacked out and pretty much incapacitated.

ecstaticEroticism: 8RO h'es. straiht up nightdrinking rn. look hers his 8onkinggourd. all teh 8s their 8s its little drinking gurds. motherfuckr this paryts LIT roflmao

The Joker is a pretty standard barrack ship, although it has the notable reputation that under the current captain if you’re cheeky enough to do something and do it well, you should be allowed to get away with it even if it’s against the rules. It takes the majority of mediocre-to-fair trainees every generation, and compared to the Dark Carnival, a much higher percentage of its graduates go on to live off-fleet on shuttles or colonies.

Sister Waspclaw is a walking test of everyone who meets her's ability to read a passive level of threat and calculate accordingly. Very talkative, encouraging and pleasant, with an extremely dangerous and unhinged core. Her whole philosophy is that you can get far in life by figuring out what the most daring trick you could pull and get away with is--but it's very important you don't try to take even an inch with her. She's tiny, but her claws are incredibly venomous and very few trolls in the entire church fleet can match her for speed.

toxicAudacity: wazpclaw'z zo excited to talk zhe can't even bother with the zentencez and ztuff like that and it all flowz together but if you pizz her off you're DEAD MEAT and you can tell if you've pizzed her off becauze when zhe's angry zzzzzhe zzZZTARTZ GETTING A LITTLE UNHINGED AZZZZZHOLE!!! >:o[

Elixir and Stardust are commercial centers; the two ships used to be separate, but the people living there had so much reason to cross between the two, they put boarding passages up and welded them in place, fusing them together.  People who handle the dark, mysterious and miraculous arts of financial management and resource acquisition work here.  It’s also the most common place for the few cult members who aren’t purple-blooded, one of the few places they’re comparatively safe.  Some non-church quadrants of purplebloods will also set up hive here.

The Abattoir is canny, sober, and calculating, a loyal ally until slighted and then a bitter enemy. The nature of her identity is a topic of fierce public debate, and he's certainly not giving out answers. Whether her consciousness is originally one of his bodies now inhabiting two, an amalgam of two minds indistinguishably linked, or some completely external force puppeting two bodies, everybody can agree she's damn good to have on your side, and that crossing him is a fatal mistake.

duelReactor: II speak clearly and concisely because II respect your time, motherfucker, and forsooth you will respect me similarly. II am busy today: I am on-ship and I am travelling to the flagship for work. II will be back in office by sunrise.

The Freakshow is a cesspit of violence and bloodshed. A very dangerous place, but also prime picking ground if you have strong conciliatory urges and are looking for your One True Diamond. People who want to settle shit once and for all can come here, and the winner will probably get a cut of the pot from the people betting on their death-match.  The bloodshed and rage are technically holy and irreproachable but most fleet faithful tend to give this ship a wide berth.

The Behemoth is the epitome of Alternian culture: take what you want through force of bloodcolor and unmitigated violence, and maintain it through merciless supremacy. Sharper than it likes to act, and with a blatant disregard for any power except its own monstrous strength, it's been butting heads with the Grand Highblood ever since it came to power, and only a surprisingly canny ability to judge the rare occasions it's outmatched has kept it from marching on the Big Top and trying to take the throne by force.

brutishAnnihilation: O- BIG MOTHERFUCKER, BIG LETTERS, ONLY LITTLE BITCHES BOTHER WITH PUNCTUATION -O

The Penitent is essentially church jail, for sinners and troubled faithful, especially/specifically those who don’t have any close mentors or quadrants to help rehabilitate them.  It’s also where prisoners under suspicion of church-related crimes are kept to wait for inquisition, as well as non-urgent/non-imperial messengers from outside the church who are waiting to be heard by the Highblood.

The Judgment is both incredibly stern and strict, and also surprisingly forgiving--her job isn't to decide who to cull, it's to decide which sinful highbloods can make their way back into the church, through a lot of prayer and ritualized punishment. In person, though, she's a terrifying battle-ax of a troll with zero patience for dilly-dallying or lollygagging or talking back or not talking back enough or failing to use her title or answering clearly and concisely!!! She has shit to do!

consecratedCourtroom: Very rarely embellishes. Very rarely ends sentences with anything but a period. Speaks CONCISELY to get her point across. Uses emphasis scaling that always seems a LITTLE passive aggressive and sarcastic. Occasional interjections of OVERRULED. GUILTY. DISMISSED. IRRELEVANT. Etc etc.

The Dark Carnival is a little bit of everything, but the clowns who work there are generally the best of the best in at least one area, or extremely promising.  Intensely-devoted cultists, genii of violence and/or interrogation, artists, artisans, the rare mechanics, geeks and scientists, navigators, or just trolls who show a lot of ambition and leadership, all get funneled into the Dark Carnival to be trained up as heads of their respective fields.  

Trolls are always coming and going from ship to ship for whatever they need or to visit other faithful, and there’s always the constant low level of kinship between any members of the church, but there is also a certain amount of distance between the microcultures of each different ship.

Outfitting is pretty consistent ship to ship, with exceptions; on the Penitent nobody but the sufferingmasters and the captain are allowed weapons, armor, or decoration.  On the Blessed clothes tend to be plain and austere by cult standard, but they are allowed to wear armor and carry weapons.  

--

Scriptures (to date)

Beginnings - a clown book of Genesis, of sorts. Creation myths and ancient church history.

“When it started we had fuck-all but dark. And so it stayed until Messiahs pulled back the curtain and said ‘let’s get this motherfucking party started’.  And they threw stardust down and it hit mud and it made dirtbloods, baked all dry enough like they could crumble if you breathed wrong.  And it hit water and it made waders; wet, cold, mirthless salty motherfuckers with too much eye for their own motherfucking sparkle.  But where it hit oceanside it made trolls out of sand, all capricious as fuck and changing with the water.  Trolls who could go hard or give when they had to.  All balanced on the universe high wire and not ever falling sea-side or ground-side but right there on their line like the acrobatterers they were.  From the sand were made the faithful; from the beachwood their horns, their goddamn bone snapped off from sea-floor stones on mountains under the water.  And what they made was Troll.  Only that.  Just that and no motherfucking more.  And when the last world was all fit together, messiahs looked on it and said ‘motherfucking money’.  

“Remember this story, faithful, and remember its lesson.  Change yourself always like sand in the water, you motherfuckers hand-shaped of surf and whimsy.”

“Urge of chaos and whim of change be ever on your skin like paint, in your pusher like blood, on your horns like a crown.  Mirthful, faithful.  Kickass and giving no shits.”

 (Book of) Colors - church policy on lowbloods, seadwellers, social order and painting, as well as the meat of the “Dark Carnival” scriptures/afterlife mythology.  

“You’re next.  You’re motherfucking next, give no mercy because the mercy of the messiahs is only as much as fits in their hands and what’s poured out on shitblooded scum will not be given you in the dark carnival gates and—”

“The Vast Honk will deafen and take from us, and all together we’ll head on up and get our dance on through fire and over skulls and horns—”

“No fear, brothers and sisters, no fear of the waders, the brine-drinkers.  There's no mirth in the sea and no painting the water doesn't wash off and you've got your hands on the righteous shit they won't ever know. No fear of the waders, for you're higher than them.  You're higher than anybody.”

“I fucked up, I fucked up, the fault's mine and there's no motherfucker I can share it with, I fucked up, forgive me.”

Sacrament - ceremonies, specifically related to new initiates and promotions within the church.  Naming ceremonies, promotions, priesthood bestowal, etc.

Suffering - Stories of martyr deaths and heretic executions.  Unique in that it is occasionally edited or added to if the church believes a story has been included in error or that a modern event needs to be added to the record.  

“…I am lost, kin.  My eyes see no colors I know.”  

The Cult of Flesh were a heretic movement deemed too dangerous to the faith of the readers to be included in the book of Suffering. Their belief that the Messiahs came to Alternia and were raised in flesh bodies by a troll acting as a lusus has been stricken from this record; their attempt to win over the current Grand Highblood, who they consider the descendant/reincarnation of the holy troll-lusus Brother Immortal, caused a schism and internal inquisition violent enough to be purged from the accepted imperial history.

Hilarities - Platitudes and words of wisdom, including the rules of comedy, the Great Unfunny Jokes, and some really quite good dating tips.

“It’s not a wise one who leaves the place of their motherfucking heart untimely.   No laughter in the suffering of those early lost of their quadrants so rest you with heart and spade and club and diamond and speak of the fucking Hilarity to each other.” 

“Fill the night enough full of holy deed and you’ll have no need of sopor to bless you with dreaming.”

“Ha ha, you salty motherfucker.”

“Let your spade burn hot, drive you up and make you great.  In this motherfucking way your kin will increase you and I’m not just talking about your bulge, LOL.”

“The wage of weakness is death; fear the only edge sharpened by waiting.”

“Take all you can grasp in your greed and your lust.  If something you want comes to your fronds, motherfucker, take it and run like it’s yours.”

Hot Shit – Letters from a historical Grand Highblood to his matesprit.  Considered by some to be a holy template of pity and matespritship, and to others a hot piece of smut that has been hilariously canonized.

(Hot Shit 1:1) "My sister in mirth, blessed in hilarity, peerless in holy rage; u up girl? :o?"

“Only let me hear you want me!  Hold me down and devour me, my love.”

“When my feet touch soil again I’ll make my way to you.  Take me as you like, heart of my heart; throw me down and fuck me under night sky and the Messiahs will only hear me sing praise out louder.  I’m hollow as a thunderstruck tree for you, sister.  I need you like starving needs food, like rage needs mercy, like sin needs forgiveness, like pain needs pleasure.”

"In grandest tradition of hot motherfuckers at the prime of their lives, fuck if I don't get mad stupid when I'm horny, sister. :o("

"Well the fuck I will reward you when you come back to hive. So well will I show my love for your thicc motherfucking ass, not for a night and a day and a night will you get feeling back in your motherfucking legs."

Revelries - Praises and adulation to the messiahs.

"I'll sing out my praises with wicked flow to the messiahs who saw fit to smile on me.  I'll praise and shout how I'm greatly blessed, I'll cry and weep how I'm not fucking worthy; their claws are in my soul, in the shape of my body, in the beat of my pusher.  Oh, my holy kin, we are color and light inside.  We are stardust.  Hands raised and faces laughing, spitting sick and delirious, together in glory.”

“…the halls around you will be painted bright and all the glitter and shine you’d want; get ye lit as fuck, brothers and sisters, let the beauty of their holy color and noise spin your pan like a motherfucking top.”

“Oh that I’m of use to you, all times and ways and places, my idle rest is to watch your show and my dreaming to hear the holy motherfucking noise."

“For not a troll was ever made, who didn’t fuck up nightly; never a faithful hatched who deserved their seat at the show.”

“Never will we be anything but loud, nitty-gritty dirty little freaks.  Lo, pour elixir and raise a glass.”

Conviction - The duties and trials of the church

“…leave ye not the dirtbound warm of blood to crawl and scrape, and waste offerings in vain.  They owe you penance and awe and what they give you are owed to take. A good ruler does the mercy of taking.”

“When your feet are unsure and what comes on you is un-fucking-funny, seek you holy suffering in penance.”  

“Dumbass, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“If fool-ass jokers fail to learn from looking, let their bodies learn it for them; scars teach best what a motherfucker’s too deaf to hear.”

“If your kin gets you sinning, cut them away, no true fucking family can they be. If the noise from your flap be blasphemous, carve it from you and stitch shut your filthy mouth, motherfucker. If your flesh leads to sin scourge it clean, washed in blood; cut away rot, and leave only what’s holy. Repentance by mouth never saved a soul; spill blood and flesh in price of forgiveness.”

Angels - Death, last rites, damnation/double death, hell, etc.

“[death] itself is not a glory; more glorious far to walk on and trail paint where you walk.”

‘I suffer pain, and want become need…I am allowed no motherfucking means to make resistance.  I wait for death, brothers.  Pour one out for remembrance of my soul’.”

“Why seek martyrdom when you could bring a hundred down with you?  Turn martyrdom to murderdom.  Paint the way; make them pay.  Shit, kin, let’s be destroyers.”

Devotions - Prayers, repentances and rituals.  (”Leader.”  “Congregation/faithful.”)

Repentance of sin (ending) - “Hail messiahs both.”  “Their works, their great motherfucking joke in the pits of the worlds they left and in the space in between.”  “Hail messiahs both.” “Your penance is paid.”

Reaffirmation of faith - “If I go false on promised devotions let messiahs grind stardust out my bones.”  “If you’d paint the face of flawed unholy troll with the shades of our holy messiahs, answer yes brother I will.” “Yes brother, I will.”“If you believe truly in what holy mess and bloody riot will come at end of worlds, if you plan on being full and motherfucking ready, make some motherfuckin’ noise.” “(Response, freeform).”“Have your ticket ready when you kick it, give me an amen brothers and sisters.” “Amen.”  “No mercy, faithful one.” “Amen.”  “No fear.”

The Dark Scriptures - only shown to religious sacrifices before their deaths. Readers must subsequently die. Contents are a mystery.

--

His/Her/Their Mirthful Majesty

King/Queen/Crown of Colors

His/Her/Their Holy Hilarity

Biggest brother/sister

The Ringmaster

[thecrimsonvalley-creates]

~ Heat of the moment ~ This is tied to a fic idea that I will get to in the far, far future but I wanted to draw this so bad and make a fake newspaper article! :D Sometimes you just have to smoosh the handsome detective that saved your blind sister from the stage when everyone else forgot about her :D And yes: This photo ends up plastered in the lunch room around Dale's office! :D (Pose based on V-J Day in Time Square photographed by Alfred Eisenstaedt).

[saywhatjessie]

Like V-J Day

Or the lads kiss each other to cover for Colin kissing Michael after West Ham and a new Richmond tradition is born. 5.9k [Ao3]

Never did Sam Obisanya think he’d be clutching and screaming with Jamie Tartt after scoring the winning goal in a premier league trophy match.

For several reasons, really. He’d always believed the team could do well and he’d believed he could do himself and his family proud in this sport he loved but after everything they’d gone through and with Jamie Tartt of all people…

He was having a little trouble trying to believe he wasn’t dreaming.

That feeling only increased when Jamie stopped screaming, his eyes on something past Sam’s shoulder and going wide with panic.

“Sam!” Jamie yelled. “Kiss me! Kiss me on the mouth!”

Sam blinked at him, unsure he’d heard right. “What!?”

Jamie shook his head, his eyes still wide, and moved his hands from Sams’s shoulders to his face. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

There wasn’t really time to think so Sam just said “Oh. Okay!” and Jamie leaned in and kissed him.

It was quick – nothing fancy. Jamie pulled away and patted Sam on the cheek. “Good lad.”

Sam just nodded, not sure how to respond to the situation. Was this another trick? Like winning an Oscar at the Espys?

Sam got distracted by Isaac and Bumbercatch colliding with him, dogpiling and screaming about his goal.

He wasn’t sure anyone else saw Jamie kiss Dani and then Jan Maas. Was this something they did now? Were they kissing each other?

Just in case, Sam pressed his lips to Moe’s temple and kissed Isaac on his nose. Isaac’s face scrunched up rather adorably but he was still screaming so Sam didn’t think he’d actually overstepped.

The rest of the team joined their huddle and with Coach Lasso’s victory dance, Sam's thoughts of kissing were quickly abandoned.

Until the following press conference.

It was a rare triple-coach event with both Sam and Jamie representing the players.

The reporters lobbed them easy questions about how excited they were for their win and how disappointing it was that Man City also won their match. But it was Marcus Adebayo, The Independent, who really brought the heat.

“Mr. Tartt, any comment on why you kissed three of your teammates on the pitch after the match?”

The coaches turned slowly to look at Jamie – Ted, surprised and delighted, Roy, surprised but trying very hard not to look it, and Beard, extremely unsurprised but pleased.

Jamie shrugged, his arms folded in front of him on the table, the picture of smugness. “Celebration, innit? We’d just won a really big match the season after we’d been promoted. ‘S like that old picture from America. After the war or summat.”

“‘V-J Day in Times Square’?”

“No, the kissin’ one,” Jamie told him. “Not sure what a VJ is but I don’t think you can do that in public.”

A couple people laughed. Sam heard Roy growl. He leaned forward to speak into his mic.

“We kiss people on the pitch after a victory all the time,” Sam said. “I don’t know why a victory this great would be different.”

“Well, you don’t often kiss each other,” Marcus offered.

“Well, never has a team been as close as this team has gotten,” Roy interjected, leaning toward his own mic. “We encourage our players to express themselves however they like. If kissing on the pitch is something they want to do after they play some good fucking football, we’ll fucking support them.” He grunted, slouching back a little. “It’s the Lasso way.”

“Aw, come on now, Coach,” Ted said, smiling softly at him. “It’s the Richmond way.”

Roy rolled his eyes but he offered a soft smile back. Sam beamed at them and Jamie’s smile was as bright as Trafalgar Square. 

Jamie offered Roy a cheeky wink. “Nothing wrong with kissin’ the lads, yeah?” 

“Oh fuck you,” Roy said back and everyone laughed.

They moved onto the next question.

On the way back to the dressing room, Sam hung back to walk with Jamie. “What was the kiss really about?”

Jamie grinned at him. “I’m supposed to be playing decoy, aren’t I? So I saw Colin kissin’ Michael on the pitch and I knew I had to distract everyone, yeah? Make it normal.” Jamie shrugged. “Knew Colin didn’t want to come out yet. Now he doesn’t have to.”

Sam melted a bit, taking a moment to appreciate the Jamie they have compared to the one they started with. He wrapped an arm around Jamie’s shoulders, clapping him on the arm. “Jamie, that is so sweet. I’m sure Colin will be so grateful.”

“Weren’t planning on telling him, to be honest.” Jamie frowned. “Don’t want to put him on the spot or whatever.”

“Jamie,” He shook him a bit and Jamie dropped his head, pleased. “That really is wonderful. But we should at least talk to the team. See who else might like to get in on it. The more teammates kissing, the more normal it gets.”

“Yeah, alright,” Jamie said, smiling up at him. “And I’m sorry for kind of ambushing you. Shoulda probably explained meself better first.”

“No, it was fine, I understand.” Sam told him, letting go of his shoulders as they entered the room, almost everyone else in the shower already. “And it was a nice kiss.”

“Oi, mate,” Jamie grinned. “You haven’t seen a good kiss yet.”

The transition through the off season and then back into pre-season training without Coach Lasso had everyone noticeably glum. They’d kept Coach Beard, and Nate had been promoted back to assistant coach again, but Roy as manager didn’t quite have the same charm as their American friend.

Not that Roy was bad. And not that he didn’t try.

He actually did a phenomenal job of bringing his own unique perspective of the game into coaching them on the pitch while keeping up with some of Coach Lasso’s open and compassionate policies. It was quite the environment.

An environment that spurred them to win their first game of the season for the first time since Sam started at Richmond.

Everyone was on the pitch screaming and celebrating when Jamie locked eyes with him. His eyes churned, a kind of slow illumination of feral joy, and he pointed at Sam, his grin a vicious challenge.

He stalked up to Sam, his grin growing more manic, and Sam ran to meet him, wanting to share in whatever primal joy Jamie was feeling.

Jamie, of course, gripped the back of Sam’s head and brought him into a leg melting kiss.

Oh yeah. Sam had forgotten about that.

 They hadn’t yet gotten around to bringing anyone else on Jamie’s kissing scheme – except for Dani and Jan Maas, who were, themselves, kissing across the pitch – but Jamie had promised Sam he hadn’t seen a good kiss yet and well..

Wow . Yeah, okay. Sam understood why the ladies on Lust Conquers All let Jamie get away with so much now.

HIs knees actually buckled and he had to grip Jamie’s shoulders tightly to keep himself from going down. He felt Jamie smile against his mouth, laughing as they broke away. “Did I actually make you go weak in the knees?”

“Fuck off,” Sam laughed, still a little dizzy. “I wasn’t ready.”

“I warned you!”

“Not recently!”

Jamie laughed again, putting an arm around Sam’s waist to hold him up. He used his other arm to reach into the cluster of teammates celebrating next to them.

“Oi, Richard!” Jamie pulled at the Frenchman, dislodging him from the group. “Kiss me!”

Richard smirked and said something in French that was probably very dirty but Sam couldn’t understand it.

He pushed up against Jamie, his side brushing Sam as Jamie still hadn’t let him go, and pulled Jamie into a kiss without any hesitation.

He immediately shoved his tongue in Jamie’s mouth, which Sam could have told Jamie was to be expected. For all Sam knew, that might have been what he’d warned in French.

Jamie laughed as he shoved Richard away. “You prick.”

Richard just winked and moved to jump on Zorro as he passed.

“Wow,” Sam said, bringing his arm up around Jamie’s shoulders. Now they were doubly linked. “Did you tell him already? About the kissing thing?”

“Nah,” Jamie said, grinning as they walked toward the dressing room. “But he’s French, inhe? Knew he’d be up for it.”

Sam groaned. “I’d call you out for stereotyping but I also know Richard.”

Jamie laughed.

“Think Cockburn might be my next target,” Jamie mused, his lips pouting out in a thinking face. “He could probably loop in Winchester and Roberts.”

“I can talk to Moe and Babutende,” Sam offered. “I already sort of kissed Moe at the last game.”

“Yeah?” Jamie grinned. “Was it as magical as I imagine?”

Sam shrugged. “Kiss him yourself.”

Jamie winked. “You know I will.”

Watching Jamie cut a path through all their teammates over the following weeks erased any doubt Sam might have had that he was 100% serious about his role as a distraction.

He did end up kissing Cockburn, then Bumbercatch, then Zorro, and also Sam and Jan Maas and Dani every chance he could get. A couple of them cornered Sam later to ask him what Jamie was up to but were more than happy to play along once they knew it was for Colin. Meaning Sam himself had kissed Richard and Dani and Winchester and O’Brien and he even got to kiss Moe properly. Jamie was right: it really was magical.

They somehow got all the way to November before they actually had to talk about it. And, unfortunately, only because they’d hurt Colin’s feelings.

He approached Sam in the dressing room, the training after their win against Crystal Palace, when Sam had actually hopped up to wrap his legs around Jamie to kiss him at a better angle. Sam had a rotation of which teammates he’d kiss after a match but he definitely always made sure to kiss Jamie.

Sam and Colin weren’t the first two in the locker room but they were early enough to be among the first, and no one was really awake yet.

Colin was already in his training kit, looking sleepy and unobtrusive. He plopped down on the bench next to Sam’s cubby with a deep sigh.

Sam chuckled, hanging his shirt up and grabbing his own kit. “Fun night?”

“What? Nah.” Colin sighed again, reaching up to rub his forehead. “Not hungover. Just couldn’t sleep. Something botherin’ me.”

“Oh,” Sam answered, startled. He was always happy to help a teammate and friend with their problems, but Colin had never come to him before, “Would you… like to talk about it?”

“Yeah, actually.” Colin turned to look up at Sam, his wide brown eyes looking tired and sad. “Do you think Jamie’s avoiding me because I’m gay?”

“What?” Sam jerked, his head shaking in an automatic denial. “Colin, of course not. Has he been avoiding you? I thought you played FIFA with him yesterday.”

“We did! I did, he’s not I guess–” Colin huffed a breath, his brow furrowed in frustration. “‘Avoid’ might not be the best word. I just, you know, I feel left out. I feel like the team’s excluding me because I’m gay.”

Sam frowned. As far as he knew, Colin had been there for all team dinners, team movie nights, the casual FIFA with the boys. If Colin was being left out, Sam wasn’t seeing it. “Excluding you how?”

“You know…” Sam screwed up his face in question and Colin sighed. “With the kissing. The after win kissing you all do on the pitch. I know Jamie started it, and he’s kissed just about everyone – even Shannon! – but he hasn’t kissed me. Is he being weird about me being gay?”

Sam blinked and immediately had to suck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing. Laughter would not unhurt Colin’s feelings.

They really should have seen this coming. Or, if nothing else, Jamie should have just kissed Colin. Not kissing him has singled him out the same way Colin being the only one to kiss a man would have.

“Colin, I promise you, Jamie isn’t avoiding kissing you because you’re gay.” Sam stopped and frowned. “Or, he might be, but not in the way you think.”

Colin frowned back, his shoulders slumping.

“No, hey, listen.” Sam reached forward and gripped Colin’s shoulders. “I promise, just let Jamie explain. Oh, Jamie! JAMIE!”

The locker room had been filling up while they’d been talking, the boys getting gradually livelier as their coffee kicked in. Jamie had just sauntered in, dressed in peak form in his floral track suit and orange tinted sunglasses.

He grinned over at Sam and Colin and trotted up to them. “Yeah, mate?”

“Tell Colin you haven’t been avoiding kissing him because he’s gay.”

“What?” Jamie jerked, pulling off his sunglasses so they could see his blue eyes wide in shock. “Mate, definitely not! I’ll kiss you now if you like, make everything square.”

Colin put his hand out as if to stop Jamie from kissing him. “No. No, don’t do that.”

Sam wasn’t quite as successful with stopping a laugh. He choked on it a bit. “Jamie, Colin has noticed that you’ve been kissing everyone else on the team and would like to know why you haven’t kissed him.”

Jamie frowned. “Oh. yeah, I guess that would look homophobic. You were probably right and we should have told him.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Sam agreed, clapping Jamie on the back.

“Sorry,” Colin said, his frown looking more perplexed now than unhappy so at least that was good. “How is Jamie kissing the whole team a good deed?”

“I’m playin’ decoy!” Jamie tells him with an undercurrent of pride you would have never seen from Jamie Tartt three years ago. “Distractin’ the press like so you and Michael can kiss after matches if you want.”

“Kiss Michael…” Colin started before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh! After West Ham last season!”

“Yeah, mate,” Jamie said, bouncing a little on his feet. “Saw you snogging on the pitch so I quick kissed Sam and some of the other lads so at the conference, they asked me about that instead of what was happening with you.”

Colin looked at Jamie, awed and a little impressed. “I’d just thought no one had seen us. Thought I got lucky.”

Sam chuckled. “You’d have to be very lucky. There were thousands of people watching.”

Colin shrugged.

Jamie scoffed. “Nah, mate. It was me! And then Sam thought the rest of the team might want in on it, so we’ve been, like, creatin’ this culture of kissin’ the lads after a win. So if you ever wanted to do it again, you’d be sorted.”

Colin smiled. “That’s real sweet, boyo.” He punched Jamie in the arm. “But you still should have told me!”

“He was trying to be humble,” Sam told him, rolling his eyes.

“Well now that he knows–” Jamie grinned, stepping up on the bench and shouting. “Oi!”

Everyone was in the locker room by now, the stragglers still changing while everyone else chatted. They all looked up at Jamie.

“Oi! Tartt!” Roy yelled back. “Why aren’t you changed?”

“One minute, Coach.” Jamie grinned. He turned back to the team. “Everyone knows about the after-win kisses, yeah?”

Everyone muttered in affirmation, some of the boys elbowing each other cheekily.

“Well Colin knows now!”

“Was it a secret?” Zorro, asked, confused.

“It would have been hard for him not to notice,” Jan Maas added.

“Weren’t a secret, just didn’t want to make it a big deal,” Jamie answered. “But now it is. So I figured we should have, like, an open discussion of boundaries or whatever. Now that we all know what’s happening.”

More muttering of agreement but then Bumbercatch asked, “What was wrong with how we were doing it?”

“Nothing,” Jamie asked, over yet more muttering. “I fucking loved it. But I do want to make sure we’re all on the same page, yeah?”

Everyone started nodding, throwing in their agreement. The coaches were all hanging by the door of their office, passively observing, until Nate piped in, “That’s very mature, Jamie.”

Jamie scoffed. “Fuck right it is. I’m a legend at open communication.”

Nate visibly sighed. Sam smirked.

“I do want to thank you all for doing this, by the way,” Colin interjected. “I did like being able to kiss my fella after a game like that. I was worried I wouldn’t be allowed to do it again.”

“Well first of all,” Roy started, commanding the room. “It’s not a matter of ‘allowed’. We’re never gonna stop you from doing whatever the fuck you wanna do with whoever the fuck you wanna do it with.”

Colin smiled. “Thanks coach.”

Roy nodded. “On this team, we all have each other’s backs. And if that means snogging on the pitch so one of our own doesn’t have to hide, have at it.” 

Jamie grinned. “Was there a second of all, Coach?”

Roy grunted, scowling at Jamie. Sam fought not to giggle.

“ Second of all,” Roy started. “Show of hands. Who’s in on this shit?”

Jamie’s hand was the first in the air, Dani and Sam’s coming up almost as quickly. Most of the rest of the starters raised their hands, as well as half of the reserves. Isaac’s hands were folded against his chest.

Sam watched Roy nod at him and Isaac nod back. He would leave that one alone. It wasn’t his business.

“What about you, Coach?” Jamie asked.

“What, me?” Roy snorted. “Fuck no, I can’t be kissing players.”

Jamie shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Same as a bum pat, innit? Besides: we need to kiss some people who aren’t teammates so Colin kissing Michael in’t suspicious.”

Roy’s eyebrows seem reluctantly swayed by Jamie’s logic but his frown didn’t move.

“I’m up for it,” Beard offered, his hand raised. “I’m always down to kiss beautiful men.”

Richard yelled something in French that sounded like agreement.

“I’m free for some smooching as well,” Will said, awkward but grinning. “I’m small so you can definitely pick me up and spin me around.”

Jamie scoffed. “‘Small’. You’re taller than me, man.”

Winchester leered at the kit man. “Been thinking about that, Will?”

Will went red and ducked his head but his lips were pulled into his mouth like he was trying not to smile.

“Anyone picks me up,” Bumbercatch added. “And I’ll kick your balls into your stomach.”

“Great boundary, Moe,” Sam told him. Moe nodded. “I myself have been fine with the level of kissing so far.”

“Bet you have,” muttered Jamie, and winked when Sam shot him a look.

Sam would try not to look at that too closely.

Colin raised his hand. “I saw Richard fully snog Jamie with tongue and everything so I’d like to ask for no tongue, please. I’ll also need to clear all this with Michael, obviously.”

“I have spoken with my girlfriends about this already,” Dani said. “They have both said that it’s wonderful. So I am free to kiss all my amigos!”

Sam smiled. Dani lived such a beautiful and loving existence.

“Jane’s good,” Beard says, waving his phone redundantly.

“It’s a no for me, oh rats,” Nate said, unconvincingly. Sam couldn’t imagine his girlfriend would have been bothered by, well, anything. But if Nate wanted an out that was fine.

“My girlfriend and I actually had a conversation about this exact situation,” Will offered, smiling dreamily.

“Will, you’re a freak and I love it,” Jamie told him, pointing at him approvingly. Will grinned up at him.

“I mean I’ve kind of had that conversation,” Colin said. “But it’s more of the hall pass thing. Like ‘which five people could I hook up with and it’s not cheating.’”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve done that,” Zorro said. “Rachel McAdams and Zendaya.”

Everyone nodded at that. “Solid choices,” Roberts added.

“But wait Colin saying that means…” Jamie grinned over at him. “Which ones of us are on your hall pass list?”

Colin went red. “No. Nope. Not doing that.”

“Well I am, obviously,” Jamie said, smirking.

“And probably Bumbercatch,” Isaac added, speaking up for the first time. His face was alight with teasing his best friend.

Bumbercatch puts a hand to his naked chest in humble thanks.

“I’m not doing this!” Colin said again, louder, his face impossibly redder.

“It’s not fair that you can only have five,” Dani said, sadly. “Since there are more than five of us.”

“I don’t want to sleep with all of you!”

“Oh, so you’re out on the kissing, then?” Sam asked, grinning.

Colin sighed, crossing his arms. “No.”

“Good lad.” Jamie winked at him.

Sam grinned, climbing up on the bench next to Jamie. "And can we all tell Colin that none of us feel weird kissing him because he's gay?"

Everyone talked over each other, rushing to comfort him.

"Don't know why it should matter," Jan Maas piped in, shrugging. "I'm not straight."

Sam jerked. “Oh.”

“Oui, nor me,” Richard added.

Sam frowned. “I thought you were just French.”

“Well I mean I’m not straight either,” Jamie said, raising his hand. “But you all kind of already guessed that, right?”

“Wait,” said Colin, eyes wide. “So I’m not the only gay one?”

“Well, I mean I still like girls so–” Jamie shrugged. “I didn’t wanna steal valor or summat.”

“That’s not what that means,” Beard sighed.

“Oh, yes!” Dani said “I also love men but do not only love men. So I did not know how to respond.”

“Right and like gender and sexuality are constructs, so why should I give in to the colonialist idea of labeling my sexuality,” Bumbercatch shrugged. “I have sucked dicks before, though.”

“Oh, yeah, same,” Jamie grinned, a dreamy look in his eye. “It’s fuckin’ great.”

Roy choked, quietly. Sam knew how he was feeling.

“Okay,” Colin said, looking as thunderstruck as Sam felt. “Show of hands. Who’s not straight?”

Colin raised his hand, obviously, and so did Jamie, Dani, Jan Maas, and Richard. Also Zorro, Bumbercatch, Winchester, Reynolds, Cockburn, Shannon, and O’Brien. And Will. And Beard.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Roy whose arms were conspicuously crossed. Roy grunted at him. “You little pricks don’t need to know my business.”

“Interesting reaction,” Beard noted. 

Roy growled.

Still, all totalled up, it was most of the team. 

Colin’s eyes were saucers. “Oh my God, I wish Trent were here. This is almost my Oprah fantasy.”

“Ooh, I’ll raise another hand in Trent’s honor.” Beard volunteered, lifting his other hand. “We actually had a Diamond Dogs discussion about this so I’ll let him know he was right.”

“Okay…” Sam said, shaking his head. “So wait: I’m the only straight guy who’s been kissing other men for months? It’s not just something we were all doing, secure in our heterosexuality?”

“I mean, it was still all friendly, yeah?” Jamie said. “I’m not trying to fuck all me teammates. The kisses were super platonic. I just wasn’t straight while I was doin’ em.”

General agreement goes up as people lower their hands.

“This is confusing,” Sam confessed.

“Ay, don’t worry about it,” Jamie elbowed him, grinning. “We’ll just keep on, right? Nothing to panic about.”

Sam wasn’t panicking about it, but it wouldn’t let him rest either.

The team kept on the same: they lost some matches, they won others. They always kissed. They’d even started kissing the ties sometimes, just because they all liked doing it so much.

Keeley had been annoyed they hadn’t spoken to her about it first but was actually having a marvelous time managing their statements about everything. And the fan reception had been indulgent to downright elated, fans going as far as tweeting pictures of them kissing their friends after matches.

No matter which way you looked at it, Jamie’s impulsive decision to kiss Sam was an overwhelming success.

Sam just struggled a bit to figure out what this meant for him .

He was straight. He was pretty positive he was straight.

But by this point, he had kissed everyone on the team and some coaches and he had notes.

Dani’s kisses were always sloppy and enthusiastic - Dani always smiling too much to maintain a proper kiss.

Richard would grip the back of his neck which was super nice but he always worked too hard with his lips.

Jan Maas was no nonsense, moving Sam where he wanted and capturing his mouth for just long enough to wind him up. And he would bring Sam  in for a hug after so his tall body swallowed him.

Zorro would start with a hug – also large and safe feeling –  before giving a polite kiss and a friendly clap on the shoulder.

Colin was way too timid to kiss the rest of them like he kissed Michael but he still gave the sweetest little pecks.

Bumbercatch had a way of growling into his mouth which was quite thrilling.

Winchester loved to be dipped.

Beard always put both hands on the side of his neck and pulled away from the kiss with a loud “MUAH!”

Sam always made sure to pick up Will and spin him around.

And Jamie was definitely the best kisser. But that went without saying.

Sam didn’t know what it meant that he had all of these opinions about kissing men. He knew he didn’t want to sleep with them – he didn’t feel the same spark, the same drive, the same fire that consumed him when he was pursuing Rebecca – but he did love them and he did like kissing them and apparently none of the rest of them were straight.

Which was fine! Sam wasn’t being homophobic!

His feelings were just a little complicated.

“It’s simple, right?” Jamie said as Sam spotted him in the weight room on one of their off days. “Men want to kiss you. You want to kiss them. What’s the problem?”

“There isn’t one, I suppose,” Sam answered reluctantly, his hands hovering next to Jamie’s face. “I just kind of feel like everyone’s waiting for me to have sudden gay realization or something. Like I’m a bisexual bomb counting down to detonation.”

“Have you thought about doing some gay shit? Just to see how you feel about it?” Jamie asked, a little breathlessly. “Now that all the lads are gay, I’m sure someone’ll give you a handy. Just so you can know for sure.”

Sam’s face screwed up. “I’m not entirely comfortable with using our teammates for sexual experimentation. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, fair.” Jamie frowned, grunting slightly at the weight. “I do feel like you’d know by now. You’re around fit footballers all the time. You’re around me all the time. If you don’t want to fuck me , I don’t think you’re queer, mate.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jamie, not every queer man wants to sleep with you.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah they do. They might not like me, but they do want to fuck me. Hate fucking is still fucking.”

Sam laughed. “I wish they could bottle your confidence, Jamie.”

“They bottle Lynx. It’s basically the same thing.” Jamie set the bar back on the stand and pulled himself to sitting, turning to grin at Sam. “Anyway, wish I could help you more. My bomb popped early.” He shrugged. “Fit footballers, like I said.”

Sam grinned, taking the plates off the bar to bring it to his own weight. “Like that poster of Roy in your room?”

Jamie groaned. “Why does everyone know about that?” He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I will get him.”

“Get him?”

“Kiss him, like,” Jamie answered. “Been dreaming about it since I was a lad, haven’t I? Never had a chance like this.”

“You don’t have a chance now ,” Sam reminded him. “He’s not in on this.”

“We got Captain!” Jamie answered back. “We can get Coach.”

That was half true. They hadn’t ‘got’ Isaac. He was looped in on their kissing now, though.

Isaac was straight and, unlike Sam, refused to be kissed. Sam hadn’t gotten the whole story because apparently Isaac wasn’t talking but Sam knew enough about being black, being an athlete, and being in England to guess what the problem was. But it still felt weird to leave their captain out of something that had become such a sacred ritual for the team.

 They had all found a compromise. After their win against Tottenham, Colin had kissed Isaac on the forehead in celebration. Isaac had looked so touched, so profoundly loved, that all of the rest of the team started doing it, too.

Sam kept kissing him on the nose. He really loved the face Isaac made when he did it. It was important to cherish your captain.

So, they’d kind of gotten Isaac.

“You can try and kiss the coach on the cheek,” Sam offered. “He might headbutt you, though.”

“Nah, he won’t.” Jamie told him, patting the bench and getting up to replace Sam behind the weights. “Not if I make a pretty enough goal.”

Sam was laying on the bench. He looked up to see Jamie’s smirk from below.

“I got it all worked out,” Jamie continued, hiking his shorts further up his thighs as Sam starts his presses. “We’ve just been kissing after matches, yeah? And Coach always runs off and leaves us to it. But if we’re in the middle of a game and I make a sexy goal – like proper beautiful, they’d write songs about it and shit – while we’re all celebratin’ I can trot right up to the sidelines and give him a proper snog.”

Sam grunted, holding the bar at his chest. “Kissing by ambush doesn’t sound very ethical, Jamie.”

Jamie snorts. “I’m not just gonna maul him. I bet I can get him to kiss me . All caught up in the moment like.”

Sam snorts back. “You’re mad.”

“I gotta try . Gotta make teenage Jamie proud.”

Sam shook his head, setting the bar back on the rest as he finished his set. “Bet you a hundred pounds.”

“Nah, fuck that. If I can get this done, I want a free meal at Ola’s.”

Sam blew out a breath, reaching out his hand to shake. “Done. And if I win – if he doesn’t kiss you by the end of the season –  you’re bringing in the whole team and paying for everyone.”

“Definitely,” Jamie clasped his hand and shook it. “Because I’m not gonna lose. And now you’re gonna be financin’ mine and Roy’s first date.”

Sam held up his hands “If you say so. It’s already unlikely he’ll kiss you but date you?”

“Man, fuck off.” Jamie laughed, shoving him.

Sam laughed and shoved back.

“What are we laughing about,” Colin asked, smiling already.

“Hey, Colin, between us: you do want to fuck me, right?” Jamie asked. “Sam’s trying to tell me that not all queer lads want to fuck me but I know that’s wrong.”

“Well I can’t speak for everyone but me, yeah.” Colin shrugged as Jamie grinned and gestured at Sam like ‘see?’. “You are actually on my hall pass list.”

“See, I knew it!” Jamie huffed a breath like he was glad to have that settled. “We won’t be fucking, Colin, sorry to say. I’ve got bigger fish, you get it.”

“What, like Roy?” Colin grinned and Sam laughed at Jamie’s expression. “No offense taken. He’s a bit scary for me but certainly a big fish.”

“Right, fuck you both.” But Jamie still helped Sam finish his weights.

When it did happen, it happened almost exactly as Jamie said.

Jamie made an absolutely filthy goal. And it was a hat trick. And it won them the match.

And Sam had to watch as Jamie charged the sidelines and stopped directly in front of the manager, arms spread and head cocked. He couldn’t see Jamie’s face but he could see Roy’s. He saw how Roy rolled his eyes, his mouth set in that annoyed smile Sam had only ever seen him use when Jamie was being a prick. He reached one hand into Jamie’s hair, his fingers clutching at it, and the other moved up to cup his jaw as he moved in to kiss Jamie.

Sam swore, loudly and enthusiastically, as the rest of the team hooted and hollered, hats raining down on the pitch.

Jamie ran back on the pitch, cheeks high with color and hair an absolute tragedy. His grin was nothing short of euphoric.

“How’s teenage Jamie doing?” Sam asked him.

“He’s fuckin’ great!” Jamie told him. “Let’s finish this fucking match.”

They ran down the clock, playing very silly but very strong for the final twenty seconds of added time.

Jamie all but tackled Sam when the buzzer sounded, lifting him up by his collar and kissing him soundly. Sam laughed and gripped Jamie’s shoulder to steady himself as he kissed back.

“So Ola’s at 6 tomorrow, yeah?” Jamie asked him after he pulled away.

Sam laughed, shoving at his face.

Other players descended on them, yanking them to their feet and into kisses.

They were lucky this was a match at home so they could all pour into their dressing room and scream their heads off without having to worry about catching the bus home. Cries of Richmond Til We Die permeated the air, inside and still out in the stands.

When everything had calmed down and people were making plans for how to celebrate, Jan Maas called across the locker room. “So, Coach, do we need to get a hat trick for you to kiss us or is that just for Jamie?”

The surrounding players ‘Ooohed’ and laughed as Jamie went red, elated smile still spread.

“That was a special exception,” Roy told them, not quite masking his own smile. “Tartt was asking for it.”

Louder ‘ooh’s’ and a couple wolf whistles went up.

“No! Fuck off!” Roy yelled at them. “I’m not kissing any more players. Stay the fuck out of my business.”

He turned to Sam. “And I want those fried plantain things tomorrow, alright? Cheers.” And then he turned and walked into his office, closing the door behind him.

Sam turned to Jamie, flabbergasted. “Did you tell him already?”

“Maybe,” Jamie grinned, shrugging. “Had to try.”

“You are a miracle, Jamie Tartt.”

Jamie shoved at him as they continued changing.

They all agreed to meet at Colin’s for a boy’s night of beer and Fifa to celebrate their win. Sam walked out to the car park with Jamie, the two of them riding over in Zorro’s jeep.

Sam turned to Jamie as they reached the car, waiting for the rest of the team to join them.

“If you and Roy start dating seriously – which I would support you in, of course – would that mean we’d have to stop kissing after games?”

“Mate, never ,” Jamie told him, looking horrified that Sam had even suggested it. “Roy knows that the lads come first.”

“Good,” Sam said, releasing a sigh of relief bigger than he thought it would be. “I think I’m definitely still straight. But to have to stop kissing you would break my heart I think.”

“Aw, Sammy boy,” Jamie slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling his head down to press their foreheads together. “I told you, didn’t I? A good kiss can change your life.”

[figures4fun]

Alternate Reality V-J Day celebration in Times Square with Cap and Peggy!