#next part is gonna be a sec bc I need to add a section

[savetheamazingcakes]

Part 3!

In a time that is certainly soon, but feels far too long, Amare is nearly at the lab’s doorstep, already yelling for someone–anyone–to open that damn door.

Faintly, shuffling is heard through the other side as a member of the ACOTKU grumbles about it being far too late for this. The worker opens the door and scrunches their face up at the sight of two dirt street rats on the doorstep. “P-please h-help him! I’m b-begging you, please! He c-can’t die yet! He’s b-bleeding out and- and-”

“We ain’t a charity. It’s way too late fer ya ta be out here. Come back in the mornin’.”

“B-but I can’t w-wait ‘til mornin’!”

“It’s only an hour away, anyone can wait that lon–”

A soft looking cheraloo steps up next to the rude worker with a questioning look on their face. “Who’s at the door– Oh my goodness! Step inside; quick quick! We need to get the little one checked out–”

“Ey, we’re closed! Ya can’t let these rats in!”

“Let me do my job, iji! Get the operation room ready!”

“But–” the other cheraloo levels a glare at their coworker. “Fine.”

“We need to hurry. Hand him to me and I can–”

As the worker reaches her dirty, rotten talons for his brother, Amare hisses. “Don’t hurt him!”

The worker raises her talons placatingly. “I took an oath to care for shoats like you, I’ll do what I can.”

Amare stares with distrust, but knowing he has no other options, he offers his brother to the woman. He doesn’t like this, but what choice is there? This lady is already a blessing with her willingness to help. 

How genuine is this help, though?

How soon until she puts them into a debt they can’t hope to pay, even with Amare’s hopefully future position within the ACOTKU? 

He can’t help but wonder things along these lines as he waits impatiently by the door, hesitant to step into the white room that makes up the lobby of the lab. The room isn’t empty of decorations, but it feels barren. It’s impersonal, as a lobby usually feels, but the white walls do it no favours. 

Once a drop of rain lands on Amare’s head, causing a slight discomfort, he sucks it up and walks over to one of the plastic chairs.

Amare sits, his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He thinks. He doesn’t usually dwell on things, but this is so much worse than his brother going to a boarding home. He tries to close his eyes and doze off, but images of his brother’s dying body and tear stained face stick to his eyelids as though they were glued there.

How did it all go wrong so quickly? Why did he have to let himself blow up at his brother like that? The day was going so well, but he lost his temper over the stupidest thing. He doesn’t want his brother to meet Lady Death over this. Over his mistakes. Amare sighs. No use in spiraling, but what else is there to do but dwell? Once it’s all over, they can go home, Amare can pass his exam, and they can both get better lives. Right? Surely Altora will pull through. He couldn’t possibly die yet. 

…

Right?

Hours passed in what crawled on like days. The jerk that wouldn’t let them in would exit the room occasionally, leaving to grab supplies. Why was he getting more stuff? Were they just dissecting him now? Was he already dead? Were they just giving the poor teen false hope?

The answer, as it turned out, was no. When he finally had enough of it, slamming his hands on the armrest and speaking ‘calmly’, “Have ya h-hurt him w-worse than ‘e already is?”

“Eugh, why would we dirty our operatin’ room with more o’ his grime than necessary? No, he’s not hurt worse! We’re fixin’ him alright!?” The mean worker refuted in an awfully rude manner.

Amare simply glared and sat himself back down. As much as he wanted to throttle the man, he needed to remain calm and not get himself kicked out of the lab. It was raining, and that did not mean pleasant things for him if he were to wait outside. He crossed his arms and turned his gaze to the floor. There was a burning behind his eyes. He needed to stay strong. 

More time passed before the kind worker stepped out of the operating room. Amare looked up with hopeful eyes. “I have some news. Would ya like the good or bad, first?”

The teen’s expression dropped. “Th-the b-bad news?” He held his breath.

“Well, the bad news is yer brother ‘ad severe damage ta ‘is liver. The thing was totalled. We couldn’t keep it. The good news, ‘owever, is that we were lucky enough to have a transplant on hand, so he’s gonna be just fine.”

A sigh of relief left Amare as his muscles went lax and he collapsed into the chair. His brother is okay! Altora is gonna be okay! He’s alive! A light chortle left his mouth in relief. “When can I see ‘im?”

“As soon as we get ‘im ta a better room. ‘M sure ya don’t wanna see ‘im in the waitin’ room.”

“He’s in the what?”

“The waitin’ room before ‘e gets put inta a room ta recover.”

“Oh. Okay.” Amare just stared blankly. He’s so happy, but he’s just…so tired. The exhaustion weighs on his mind as he blinks slowly, the clear vertical covering barely showing. Black spots start to cover his vision. He collapses to the floor, the surgeon barely catching him in time.

— — —

Altora woke up slowly, the world around him a daze. Muffled voices spoke above him, sounding as though they were spoken through water. A soft touch to his headfeathers sent pleasant sparks dancing in his head. His brain felt like slush, melting out of his head. Everything was too muddled and too bright. He whined lightly, closing his eyes and falling back to sleep in the soft touch to his head.

The next time he woke up, his mind was much more clear. It was still murky, but he could sort of understand the voices speaking above him. One held the characteristic low, scratchy warbles and chirps of his brother. The other was much cleaner, holding a quickly rising and dropping pitch most cheraloos had when speaking common. The ups and downs made his head hurt. He heard a high sound that must have been his voice. It felt scratchy and worn. A hand was brought to gently pat his head, causing a trill to unwittingly be released from him. It was nice. The claws lightly scratching his head was nice. Everything felt nice and fuzzy except for his throat. That hurt. “‘Ey b-bud, ya feelin’ any better?” asked the lower voice.

He whined in reply, unable to form words in his throat at the moment. “Shhh, i-it’s alright. Y-ya need a drink?”

Altora nodded. That sent his brain spiraling in dizziness. He resolved to not shake his head anymore. “I can go grab some if ya need. I’ll leave ya two to yer reunion,” said the other voice. It was in his native language, meaning much easier on his ears. The clacking steps of talons on the floor started and faded. A curtain opened and closed. 

The room was silent, save for the breathing of him and his older brother. The silence was nice, it didn’t leave him holding his breath, waiting for something to happen. They sat for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. This felt like the calm after the storm, the time where everything finally dies down and the survivors of the wreckage begin rising. The Lady had not taken him that time, and he was more thankful than ever.

All feeling suddenly hit him, the events of that night and the sensitivity of his body causing him to feel overwhelmed. It was a lot. Tears welled up in his eyes and he dove for his brother, engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug. Amare stood there for a moment, frozen by the sudden speed of his previously groggy brother. After a moment, however, he wrapped his arms around him, buried his face in his brother’s feathers, and cried. They both sat there for however long it took for the lady to come back, sobbing in relief at the sight of the other. They were going to be okay. Apologies were in order, but those could wait a bit longer. 

The lady quietly opened the curtain, pretended there weren’t two children sobbing into each other’s arms, and set down the glass softly. She swiftly left the room, silently as she entered. The two were left to each other, and in the exhaustion of crying, Altora fell asleep. He was still drugged on painkillers to high heofon, after all. Amare sighed when he felt his brother finally go lax; he set him down lightly onto the bed, kissed his forehead, and sat down by his bedside. 

The exams were in two days, at this point. Amare pulled out his notebook and textbook. This cursed thing caused his brother harm, but it’s the thing that will get them out of major future danger. He can’t be forced to leave his brother because of war. He sat for hours by his brother’s bedside, rereading his notes and double checking the book. 

The younger continuously woke up and dozed off that day and the next. He barely had the energy to stay awake for a few hours at a time. The day of exams had come when Amare realized he would need to leave his brother for that brief period. He didn’t want to. He almost couldn’t bring himself to, but he steeled his nerves and called for the nicer worker. She and the other guy were the only people there constantly, and it turned out she didn’t do much else than care for patients during the day. “Y-yer sure he’s gonna be okay if I leave ‘im?”

“O’ course, hon. I can keep an eye on ‘im while ya go do yer exam. He’ll be safe with me.”

Amare looked at her for a lie, any sign she would betray him at the slightest moment. Her eyes held only the truth. Satisfied with what he found, he gave a slight tilt to his head–a small nod, if you will–and walked through the curtain. His pawed feet made no noise, despite the claws that should have been clicking on the floor. The exams were waiting. His future was waiting.

PART 1          PART 2

[stfuisaac]

hello hello it’s lucky again and,, sadly,, we don’t have the technology that makes the thoughts we have just.... appear onto our screens yet... so this took a hot sec and still isn’t perfect bc i don’t plan on proofreading :\ but! here,, is,, my new,, drummer boy,, parumpumpumpum

‹ avan jogia, he/him, cis man, bisexual. › ISAAC BAROT is the TWENTY-SEVEN year old from SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ I HEARD THIS IS WHERE THEY DECIDED TO MAKE THE TWILIGHT ZONE. ❞ they claim GET OUT is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would BE OBLIVIOUS TO THERE EVEN BEING A KILLER UNTIL IT’S TOO LATE. their fears include MANNEQUINS, HITCH-HIKERS and DYING WITH NOTHING TO SHOW, and they don’t know we know, but… HE GOT INTO A (MUTUALLY) NEAR FATAL ALTERCATION WITH A STRANGER HE GAVE A RIDE TO (YES, HE WAS AN UBER DRIVER - HIS GREATEST SHAME). hope they enjoy their stay. ‹ PLATANCHOR requested by JOAKIM from STRESSED OUT penned by, LUCKY, 20, EST. ›

QUICK FACTS:

full name: isaac benjamin barot

date of birth: september 12, 1992

*does not perfectly reflect the below Big Three zodiac chart because that’s so much math

zodiac big three: virgo sun, taurus moon, libra rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: session drummer + lyft driver + ex-uber driver

mbti: entp

enneagram: 5w6

the song i listen to on repeat while i write the intro: “deja vu” - roger waters

BACKGROUND INFO:

alright. so.

isaac's backstory is neither tragic nor easy. his father was an immigrant who married his mother solely to get a green card (y’all, to be fair... the citizenship tests are whack). there wasn’t any real romance between the two, but the drop-ins always said otherwise. no, outside of putting on a show for government officials, isaac’s father and mother were friends at the best of times.

the best of times culminated in a son who grew up in an interesting dynamic. his father and mother never even attempted to be anything more than friends (with, as you can see, the occasional benefits). after the check-ins finally stopped, his father and mother even began sleeping in different rooms. his mother would trade in her queen for a double and replace the space his father used to take up with his cradle.

it was nothing like the ‘unhappy marriage’ trope, though... again, because they barely ever pretended to be married. they would take their wedding rings off when they went out with friends. sometimes they would even take off their rings around each other and talk the other up to someone attractive.

so it was unorthodox, but it was much better than his parents pretending to be in love in that way and giving him a skewed version of what romance should look like.

one down-side to it, though, was that isaac never knew who he was supposed to go to for what. usually it’s just a given that “if you need/want x, go to the matriarch, if you need/want y, go to the patriarch” but... what happens... when your parents are basically just your friends?

so thank god for growing up in the age of technology. like,, ya,, a literal baby can’t google things like “how to say ‘mom’” but a 15y/o can google “how to shave”

so... ya... his parents were his friends, the internet was his parent(s?).

one thing the internet couldn’t do? give him drums. it could introduce him to the likes of ringo starr, john bonham, keith moon, and ginger baker, but it couldn’t give him drums... not when he was only, like... 10, at least.

so he put a set on his christmas wishlist and figured they would divide amongst themselves.

so ya, his 10th christmas, he got a shitty little rockwood hohner kit that he would use for the next nine years.

he never received any professional training. again, he didn’t know who to ask and... youtube wouldn’t exist for another three years. he tried to teach himself using a few books and, if nothing else, figured out a few simple beats and how to gain independence.

after learning those simple little beats and not knowing if he wanted to buy the next book, he decided to take a break and, instead of going back to professional books, he’d just listen to some of his favorite tracks... most of which were ginger baker... which made things kind of hard when he only had one bass drum, two tom-toms, and one floor tom. those, plus the really low quality pearl cymbals. still, he did his best to make it work.

just a side-note that, because of videos of ginger, isaac used (and still uses, out of habit) a mix of traditional and matched grip.

he went back and forth between the books and mimicking the patterns of other drummers (mostly ginger) up until he was around 16 and his friend, ribs (y’all), decided to teach him a few more technical skills. what you want to learn for this song are polyrhythms, but those are hard and no, ginger isn’t using a crash there, he’s using a splash and do you want a discount on some better cymbals and drumheads from my parents’s music shop because this is a very functional kit but it kind of sounds whack

he continued using the same whack kit, but replaced the heads with aquarians, as per ribs’s recommendation (but evans and remo are also good) and, after literally examining baker’s kit, replaced the cymbals with various zildjian collections

even though we stan istanbul agop in this house.

he also started listening to more drummers than... pretty much just baker with a hint of john bonham, keith moon, and ringo starr. as his friend suggested, he tried out drummers like buddy rich, art blakey, travis barker, dave grohl, karen carpenter, neil peart, nick mason, simon phillips –– even was told to listen to ac/dc songs just to see how a successful band could be made using essentially the same beat over and over and over.

so now he had some split time. school. work. practice. figure out who the hell was making dinner that night/if there was someone making dinner last night because they might both be talking each other up.

although he applied to various colleges, and although some of these colleges actually accepted him, he ultimately decided not to go. instead, he moved from san jose to los angeles in the hopes that he’d find something bigger than himself... and a new drum set...

he found the latter in a ludwig kit with two bass drums, two tom-toms, and two floor toms. then he just added a bunch of stuff and tried to make it like ginger baker’s. pretty much spent all of his money on it and then some.

when his friends formed a band and found success, he was very very happy for them... but... he found himself stuck... driving ubers.

and lyfts!

he’d seen the twilight zone before. he loved that show. he’d seen the episode ‘the hitch-hiker,’ so he was really driving for the companies against his better judgment. 

his worst uber story? the time a guy got into the car, had pinged a location that was still marked as a store on the uber gps but had recently been torn down, and tried to attack him when they got there :\ he 110% fought back, though. was fired because the other guy was the one who made it out injured.

only drove for lyft after that :\

he did take on a few projects, but he... proved to be too much of a roger waters for people who just wanted to chill and have fun. there would be adverts for people who wanted to form a band and he’d be like “hell yeah! finally! a band!” then he’d get pissed that they advertised it so seriously but really... just wanted to jam. did not have any plans to try to do anything with it.

the few projects he did join that involved people who wanted to actually achieve success... if they were slacking, you best bet his inner roger waters came out! which is why he never stuck around in any projects for too long!

but ‘projects’ and ‘jam sessions’ were totally different. you want to do ‘wipeout’ in a project? he’s gonna take that intro that literally everyone on the planet knows SERIOUSLY. you want to do ‘wipeout’ in a jam session? LET’S HAVE SOME FUN WITH IT.

he does some session/studio drumming for other artists to make some extra money while doing something he genuinely enjoys... but... still... it is no project™

in between things right now, he got a call from joakim that, while muffled and staticky, sounded like it said ‘get here, please’ and clearly stated where he was.

of course, voicemail lines were crossed and many many many essential words were left out – words that were basically saying the exact opposite ahfsdkjl. the shadow’s really playin them :\

so here he is, in all his glory.

TL;DR:

i was gonna kms if i didn’t play another drummer, so this is my ginger baker fanboy whose parents were literally just best friends and, as a result, were also both his friend. the internet raised him. started playing drums when he was 10 on a low qual kit with low qual cymbals that his parents got him for christmas, but literally why would you get a beginning a good set? continued playing. eventually moved to los angeles and tried to form many successful projects, but was too much of a roger waters. was summoned up here by the shadow man fucking around joakim. his greatest shame is how many ubers he has driven.

PERSONALITY INFO:

he will always say his proudest moment was when he learned how to play ‘toad’ by ginger baker cream all the way through.

big ginger baker fanboy.

loves the twilight zone and will just spill a random fact out about it every now and again.

a lowkey control freak which completely goes against the way he dresses and the vibe he gives off. 

is only a dick about it if you’re part of one of his ‘projects’ but aren’t taking it seriously tho :\

ok i’m too tired 2 write a personality section rn when im already rly bad at them but!! again!! feel free 2 j refer to the zodiac big three + the personality types!!

FEARS:

mannequins: they’re already creepy enough when you really think about it, then you add in that episode of the twilight zone where the characters wake up in an unfamiliar house and go outside and basically everyone is just a mannequin? ya he hates mannequins.

hitch-hikers: so, as we have just seen, he’s had it bad enough with people who were registered to an app, paying, their personal information readily available, etc., etc... so then what would happen if it was just a complete and utter stranger who didn’t have any personal information, any ping, and was the sole focus of a different twilight zone episode? he... is going... to drive past you. he’ll feel bad about it, but...

dying with nothing to show: here’s the money shot! here’s the deep fear! as has been shown throughout, isaac craves success and some form of a legacy. if he dies with nothing to show for his life, then was his life ever worth it in general?

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

ok,,, it might be bc im tired rn,,, but i have the most basic list that will hopefully be updated tomorrow bc it is SO VERY BASIC:

friends

fwb

ons

exes

enemies (much easier to get on his bad side than it is w/ fluke)

BRAINSTORMING AND/OR SOMETHING FROM YOUR WANTED CONNECTIONS AND/OR WHATEVER YOU HAVE AN IDEA FOR!!!!