#oc: håkan

[filurig]

little valentines day thing

[princesssarisa]

OC INFO: Lorikeet (An Eternal Crown)

FULL NAME: Lorikeet.

NICKNAME(S): None.

FACECLAIM: The adorable operatic soprano Lucia Popp, whom I would have wanted in the role if An Eternal Crown had been an opera in the 1960s.

Or else Patti Murrin as Anna in Frozen on Broadway, because she looks like a female clone of Håkan Hagegård's Papageno in Ingmar Bergman's Magic Flute. Honestly, they could be siblings!

BIRTHDAY: January 27.

ZODIAC SIGN: Aquarius.

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual.

GENDER: Female.

BIRTHPLACE: The forest that surrounds the ethereal palace of King Vorteyo.

LIVES IN: The Sisterhood of Nira's valley.

NATIONALITY: Vorteyo's kingdom. (One of these days I should think of names for these countries.)

FAMILY: None, she's an orphan with no knowledge of her origins. Still, I'm open to the idea that she might be Vorteyo's illegitimate daughter by one of his mortal mistresses, and that's why he employs her and ensures that she's looked after. This of course would also make Zeran her half-brother.

CHARACTERISTICS: Chatty, friendly, naïve, sensual, romantic, impulsive, sometimes tactless, anxious, "adorkable."

LIKES: Birds, bright colors, conversation, attractive men, compliments, affection, music, dancing, cake (especially gingerbread with raisins), the beauty of nature, climbing trees, companionship.

DISLIKES: Loneliness, danger, physical discomfort, boredom, sitting still, darkness, enclosed spaces, sudden loud noises, animals that bite, being flirted with by unattractive men.

OCCUPATION: Bird catcher.

WEAPON OF CHOICE: None.

OTHER PERSONAL INFO: She's a genderbent version of Papageno from The Magic Flute, but younger and more soulful. Papageno, bless him, is base, earthy instincts personified – apart from his reverence for romantic love, he shares nothing of the other characters' spiritual idealism, and only goes along with the priests' trials because they promise him a wife as his reward. But Lorikeet has more potential to be an idealist. She genuinely falls in love with the Sisterhood's kindly way of life and genuinely wants to join them in all the good they do for others. Unfortunately, much like Maria in The Sound of Music at the abbey, she's just not suited to life as a holy woman. Though her heart is in the right place, she's too emotional, impulsive, and mistake-prone... too AuDHD, we might argue, though she doesn't live in the right time or place to be diagnosed. Still, in the end she finds she can still be a part of the community, just not as an initiate, alongside her beloved Robin – and while she fail's to prove herself "worthy" of Robin's hand according to the priestesses' rules, powers higher than the priestesses do deem her worthy. All three of the principle young characters in this story – Sarisa, Zeran, and Lorikeet – are in search not only of love, but of where they belong, and all three find their place in the end, Lorikeet no exception.

NAME ANALYSIS: A lorikeet is a tiny, bright-colored parrot that's native to Australia and Southeast Asia. I choose this as her name because in The Magic Flute, Papageno's name means "little parrot."

[niemernuet]

Short untitled one-shot about Sander and Henrik that came to me after Henrik's memorable show in Sölden with the protesters and his subsequent excuse that he was just angry that they were ruining Sander's race. Bit different maybe, heed the warning.

rating: M pairing: none for main, Timon/Clément if you squint characters: Alexander Steen Olsen, Henrik Kristoffersen, Timon Haugan, Sebastian Foss Solevaag, Leif Kristian Haugan, Clément Noel, Atle Lie McGrath, Lucas Braathen, OC warnings: non-con, assault

“It’s not usually like this.”

Timon spoke quietly, as if he dared not be louder than the hushed voices filling the spacious hall with a soft murmur.

Sander picked at his face mask, and gave him a quizzical look.

“You know,” Timon said, and waved his hand through the air, “the…mood. Normally, World Cup races are great fun, it’s just with Atle and Lucas both injured…” He left the sentence unfinished, and instead ended it with a shrug.

Even though a paper mask was hiding most of his face, the grin on Sander’s face was clearly recognizable.

“Oh, I’m not bored at all. Not with Seb and…hey, Seb, who’s that writer again?”

Sebastian sat on the other side of the coffee table in a comfortable lounge chair. “Håkan Nesser,” he said, not unfriendly and yet without looking up from his book.

“Håkan Nesser,” Sander said to Timon before turning to Seb again. “And is it still good?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea! The detective just found out that the dead journalist had a wife who went missing on a hike a few years earlier. That totally came out of nowhere and changes everything!”

“No way!” Sander exclaimed, and looked at Timon. “That changes the whole story!” He watched earnestly as Timon snorted into his mask.

“Yeah,” Seb said, too immersed in his book to see much of his surroundings. “This man can produce nothing but bangers.”

“Evidently,” Sander answered, while Timon shoved a hand under his mask, and bit down on it. With another grin, Sander turned towards the large window front opening towards the main street, and while Timon kept fighting for composure he watched as the masses of people washed through the small village like endless waves. Right next to the entrance to the hotel, Leif was standing by a pot of dead box wood with the well-known dopey smile that indicated that he was face-timing his children. In little more than two hours there would be the opening ceremony where the best racers would get to draw their starting number and while neither Timon nor Sander had to participate, they did have to be present for a few interviews and photo shootings with sponsors beforehand. It was the second to last station of the world cup before the finals in Switzerland, which again, neither Timon nor Sander were invited to.

A sharp gust of cold air blew into their corner when the door from the reception hall of the hotel flew open, and another Norwegian athlete rushed inside.

“Are we having the interviews here?” Henrik barked at Timon, and glared across the room.

“They’re still prepping the last things,” Timon said, rolling his eyes at Sander. “Can’t be long now.”

“It fucking better,” Henrik snarled. “I don’t have all day.”

“It’s almost evening,” Sander muttered behind his mask, making Timon snort again. He caught himself quickly though.

“Hey, Henrik, have you already met Alexander? It’s his second time in the World Cup.”

Henrik paused for a few moments, his gaze resting on Sander at the same time irritated and utterly bored. Sander gave it back in strides, and when Henrik finally walked away, his middle finger shot up.

Timon chuckled. “He’s in a wonderful mood today.”

-----

The atmosphere in Kranjska Gora was unlike any other place in the entire World Cup. Sure, there would be another race, the big final where the crystal globes were handed out but as only the best of the best were invited there, the races in Slovenia were the end of the season for the big masses, and they treated it with the appropriate gravity.

The strict rules of the pandemic ended at the threshold to the bar, and neither Timon nor Sander, much like a substantial part of the other athletes, questioned the legality of the place. The bodies were packed tightly together, and the thumping bass seemed to move them in the rhythm of the strobing light. Timon pulled Sander through the crowd, and ordered the first round at the bar. Sebastian and Leif, of course, had opted for an early bedtime with Håkan Nesser and a videocall with the family respectively.

"Next time will be better," Timon yelled over the noise as he toasted with Sander. He nodded, still a bit annoyed with himself and the way he had lost control of his skis in the heavy snow. He took a big swig so he would not have to say anything. Slowly, they made their way through the crowd while Timon introduced Sander with every step they made. He knew all of them, some from races in the European Cup, and some from television. The Swiss delegation seemed to have arrived in its entirety; no wonder after their double victory today. Odermatt and the short one who had not been on the podium danced together, pretty much the only Swiss to do so, and Sander had to step out of their way when Timon pulled him past. They ended up close to a wall at the other end of the bar, near a group of French athletes. It only took Sander a short while to realise that Timon had stationed them there deliberately.

"I knew I'd find you in here," Clément yelled as he raised his glass towards them. Sander did not even know the bar carried wine. It certainly did not look the kind.

"We have reasons to drink today, so…" Timon answered, and pointed to his left. "That's Sander. He's new."

"I watched your race today," Clément said. "Well, I watched your split times in the app, at least. I thought it was glitching because it showed so much green. At least until…you know…" He grinned, and Sander was forced to answer with a thin smile.

"He'll beat you in no time," Timon threw in, and Clément laughed.

He eyed Timon over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his red. "Have you thought about what I said?

Timon rolled his eyes but the fond smile betrayed him. "I told you I'm in…"

"…negotiations," Clément finished for him. "I know you are very in demand. But have you considered that you will find nobody better than Dynastar?"

Timon laughed, and Sander could barely hear his answer over the noise. Quietly he sipped his beer while the gap between him and the other two grew wider. Timon nodded when he offered to fetch the next round while Clément mustered him with that faint, slightly condescending smile that only the French could, conveying perfectly how glad he was to get rid of him. Without another look back, Sander squeezed through the crowd, jostled across the floor by the mass of bodies until he reached the counter on the other end. The two barkeepers could barely keep up with orders raining down on them from every direction, and Sander resigned to a long wait. He watched them hurry up and down the length of the bar, raising his hand whenever one came close, and it took him a while to realise the pair of eyes resting on him. The guy was not bad to look at, under the dim, strobing light anyway, a bit older than Sander, rugged but not unkempt, and with a curious gleam in his eyes.

He leant closer, and Sander's heart sped up when his breath landed on his ear. "First time?"

Sander pressed his lips together, and shook his head, hoping that the blush on his cheeks was not visible. "No," he lied. "I've been to bars before."

The other guy laughed. "I mean in Kranjska Gora."

Sander's cheeks felt like one of the red lightbulbs flickering above but the other guy simply patted him on the shoulder before he leant over the counter, and held out his hand.

"Here, on me," the guy smiled, and offered him one of the shot glasses.

"I'm supposed to fetch three beers for my friends," Sander said weakly, and looked after the barkeeper who was already halfway down the room again. His shoulder still throbbed from the short touch.

"Three?" the other asked. "That's one too many. Are you sure they want them?"

Sander still hesitated, his gaze dashing towards the back of the bar. As if on cue a gap opened in the bodies moving on the dance floor, revealing Timon and Clément deep in conversation, their heads almost touching. Sander snorted, and looked back to the guy. He grabbed the little glass, clinked it against the other, and threw it back. It burnt all the way down into his stomach, and it took a few seconds until he had full control over his face again.

"Not bad," the guy laughed. "Almost as fast as you are on skis." He drank his shot without blinking, and turned back to the bar. It was as if he had a telepathic connection to the barkeepers the way he could get their attention with ease.

"I really shouldn’t…" Sander began. The guy turned around, and his friendly yet sharp gaze made Sander's stomach flutter as hard as the shot before. He slid closer, until their thighs were touching, and his hand was resting on Sander's hip. Jolts of electricity surged through Sander's body.

He realised that they were the same height. "Sorry," the guy smiled, "couldn't hear you over the music. You were saying?"

Sander swallowed hard. "I've got another race tomorrow."

"So you already want to leave me?"

"No, I just…"

"Great!" the guy laughed, turned back to the bar, and before Sander knew, he had another tiny glass in his hand.

"I watched your race today. You'll do just fine." He eyed Sander expectantly until he drank his shot.

"I'm not so sure," Sander coughed through the burning sensation in his throat. "But if it helps me reach the finish line."

The guy laughed, and swapped the empty glass in Sander's hand with a full one. "If you can trust the locals then this will help against every bad thing you can only imagine."

Sander laughed. The shots had crept up into his head almost immediately, and he could feel their effect in the blurred edges of his view.

"Which team are you with?"

The guy winked at him, clinked his glass against Sander's and emptied it. His hand was scorching on Sander's hip, and he could feel every finger through his jeans.

"Don't think I could be a racer, okay…" the guy said with raised eyebrows, and waited for Sander to empty his shot again.

"No, it's not that!" Sander laughed. "Because if you were I'd know you."

The guy kept smiling at him, the silence between them lasting longer and longer.

"Swiss?" Sander guessed, and the guy burst out laughing. "French? Italian?"

He received another glass.

"Austrian?"

"Now you're just insulting!"

"No!" Sander yelled, and laughed again. The guy observed him with an amused grin as he fumbled with the shot glass. He did not know how much time passed, or how little, except that he kept laughing and guessing both his name and nationality while drinking until suddenly the world threatened to turn upside down.

"Maybe we should get some fresh air?" the other said, and guided Sander through the crowd. The air outside was crisp, and white frost already laying on the black pavement. Sander took a few deep breaths as they ambled along, and it took him a few houses to realise that…

"My hotel's in the other direction."

"Nah, it'll be shorter around here," the guy said, and waved to the left. "Trust me, I know this place." He grinned at Sander. "Not like there's a lot to know."

They passed another hotel, swankier than the one of the Norwegian team, and finally turned left into an alley. The shine of the street lamps ended shortly behind the sidewalk, and while the next one was visible in the distance where the alley crossed into another street again, there was a sizable patch of darkness between them. Sander's feet felt clumsy and unwieldy on the cracked pavement as he stumbled along, leaning into the touch of the other guy to his right for support. His hand was still resting around Sander's hips, and he only had to budge a little to push him against the wall of the building.

"You can really pack those shots away", he smiled. Out in the cold, clean air, his breath sent no more tingles down Sander's spine. He tried to turn away from the wave of sour alcohol breath but was too late. His kiss was heavy, his tongue a shapeless lump in Sander's mouth.

"I should go back," he gasped when the other retreated, hating how breathless and small his voice sounded in the dark. All of the excitement of his buzz had vanished, and only the alcohol remained like lead in his limbs.

"What? Now? When it's just getting good?" the guy mumbled against Sander's skin as his mouth wandered down his neck. His stubble scratched like sandpaper.

"No! Let g…" The hand clamped over Sander's mouth like a vice, pressing the back of his head hard against the rough surface of the wall.

"No?" the guy snarled, grabbed Sander's hand, and slammed it hard against the wall. A wave of pain and fear broke over Sander at the realisation how little he could do against the strength of this stranger.

"No? After all this you want to pull out?"

"Hey!"

The cone of a cellphone's flashlight landed on them, and the guy startled. It was enough for Sander to push him away, and stumble two steps out of his reach. He coughed, sucking the cold air deep into his lungs.

"Get the fuck away from him!"

The cone of light became bigger and blinded Sander.

"This doesn't concern you," the stranger from the bar growled. "Move on!"

"The fuck it does!" the other man barked, and Sander's stomach seemed to fall out under his feet as he realised who it was. Before the other guy could react, Henrik shoved him hard.

"I said: Get the fuck away from him! Do you even know how old he is?"

The other guy laughed roughly, and with rising dread Sander watched as he squared up against Henrik. "He's of age, don't worry."

"Congratulations, that elevates you from disgusting creep to just creep," Henrik snapped, and shoved him again. "Now get lost."

The light from the phone wobbled as Henrik got shoved in return. "You don't want to try me," the man snarled.

Sander took a step forward, trying to move in before the other could lunge at Henrik but Henrik was faster. The punch was swift and came without any warning, the crunching noise under the slap of skin meeting skin so disgusting that Sander felt like throwing up instantly. The other guy stumbled, his knees buckling under his weight. No sound came from him except a loud gasp as he staggered against the wall.

Henrik on the other hand was much louder. "Fuck!" he yelled, and furiously shook his hand. "Fucking hell, that hurts like shit!" Still swearing he raised the phone in his other hand, and shone the light into the face of the stranger. Blood was gushing from his nose, and the look in his eyes was pure bewilderment.

"You don't want to try me!" Henrik spat, grabbed Sander's hand, and pulled him towards the street.

He did not dare to pull out of his grasp as they walked under the street lamps of the main street, approaching the centre of the town with all the hotels and bars. Henrik eventually stopped on his own, let go of Sander, and for a while he clenched and unclenched his bruised hand while his gaze darted up and down the road. Eventually, he took a deep breath, looked up towards the lamp, and stared at his phone for a moment before he switched off the flashlight. Only then did he remember who was standing next to him.

"You fucking idiot!" he said to Sander with cold anger in his voice, and the same irritation in his eyes as yesterday. "You lot really does get dumber with every year."

Sander pressed his lips together. Somewhere in the back of his head, buried under the alcohol and the adrenaline and the feeling of utter humiliation, was a small, sensible voice that tried to explain all the ways he was in the wrong, and supposed to thank Henrik, and go to bed without further discussion.

"I had it under control," he grumbled, and walked away.

"As if!" Henrik laughed joylessly, and grabbed him by the shoulder. "What would have happened had I not gone for a short jogging round before bed? What would have happened had I not recognised the patch on your jacket from the stairs to the hotel?" He slapped his palm against the logo of Ski Norge, and Sander impatiently rolled his shoulder back.

"I had it under control!" he yelled in Henrik's face, his cheeks burning, and tears stinging in the corners of his eyes.

Henrik blinked in amazement. Then, he took a step forward, and sniffed the air around Sander.

"You fucking idiot pound back Slivovitz twelve hours before a race?" He grabbed his arm again, and shook him hard. "I'm serious, is there something wrong with you? Do you start in the special category when you're not crashing out in the World Cup?"

"Leave me alone!" Sander yelled, hating how close his voice sounded to tears. He turned around again, and this time Henrik did not stop him when he dashed away but followed closely on his foot. For a while he did not say anything, until:

"Here! Take these!"

Sander looked down at the open palm of Henrik.

"If any coach is still up and smells you like this, you will walk back to Oslo and never start in another FIS race in your life."

Sander frowned. Reluctantly, he grabbed the two mints from Henrik, and shoved them between his teeth.

"Walk upright," Henrik continued, as if Sander had not been doing it the entire time. "Don't talk to anyone, and brush your teeth once you're in your…"

"Hey, Sander!"

They stopped, and turned around.

Timon wheezed when he came to a stop beside them. "Sorry, we didn't know where you were. We thought you'd left with that other guy…" Timon kept panting while Clément also caught up to them.

"Not that I'm not happy for you but I was kinda looking forward to that beer," he said, much less out of breath than Timon.

"Sorry," Sander muttered, painfully aware of his breath coming out of his mouth in white clouds. "I just needed fresh air."

Clément shrugged. "Eh, I'm just joking. I hate beer, and the wine here is virtually undrinkable." With a smile, he turned to Henrik. "Hi."

Henrik looked at him and Timon with a surly look. Without another word, he turned on his heel, and jogged away.

"Okay…," Clément muttered, and rolled his eyes. "He definitely is in a mood, huh?"

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Timon groaned, and linked arms with Sander. "Please don't tell Atle or Lucas about this part of the evening."

"What? Why?" Sander asked, turning his head hastily towards the ground. Slowly they walked along the rows of hotels and restaurants. Their hotel was coming closer now, the neon lights shining only a few metres away.

"Atle was sure he'd try to corner you somehow. He said I would have to protect you. I didn't believe him but he was right. I hope he didn't impart his wisdom on you for too long."

"Next time pretend to get a call," Clément threw in.

Sander stared at his feet moving one step after the other on the frozen street. He shrugged.

"It wasn't that bad," he said.

Epilogue:

Even though the place was a massive block of glass and air, Norway’s skiing team brought the capacity of the lobby at its limit. Everyone dutifully wore the new polo with next season’s design, as instructed by the marketing team. Soon they would disperse to the various studios for the photo shootings but for the time being they were forced to wait. Most of them were clustered around the big couch that was fully occupied by Kristin and Lucas and their outstretched legs with the clunky splints around the knees. Sander kept fidgeting with the collar of his shirt even as he approached the corner at the far end of the lobby, the only place that allowed a glimpse around the neighbouring building and the harbour behind it. Henrik did not stop scrolling through his phone while Sander fought with himself, and only looked up when he cleared his throat.

“I…” Sander began before his voice gave out. He had often thought about this moment. Not about the one back in spring, that one was locked deep away in his heart, but he had something to make up for after all. And so, here he was. “I wanted to thank you.”

Henrik raised his eyebrows over his high forehead that his wispy bangs could not hide.

“For…Slovenia,” Sander added, his voice barely faltering, his mind not going back to that night and the feeling of sharp pain in his hand, the helplessness...

Henrik mustered him for a moment, a slight frown on his face. Then, he nodded, and went right back to his phone.

Sander took a deep breath, the another. He hesitated. “So…you and Hirscher?”

Henrik chuckled. “No,” he said.

“I mean…”

“It’s me and Van Deer,” Henrik interrupted him. “Difference.”

“Sure.”

An exasperated groan escaped Henrik’s lips as he looked up from his phone again. “Did McGrath send you? That little gossipy bitch! Why doesn’t he pester Haugan?”

“He didn’t,” Sander hurried to say. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

Henrik paused. “Oh.”

They wallowed in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

“You know, if you’re interested…” Henrik eventually began, and trailed off with a shrug.

Sander shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good. For now.”

“Okay. Your loss.”

Sander pressed his lips to a thin smile. He looked over his shoulder, then back to Henrik. “Okay. See you around.”

“See you,” Henrik muttered to his phone.

Lucas, Atle and Timon were not even pretending not to have watched Sander’s exchange with Henrik with unashamed curiosity. He did not say anything when he joined them by the couch.

Lucas began first. He turned around as far as his stretched leg allowed. “Timon, could you please come here and bend down so I can hit you?”

Timon snorted, and took a step back from the couch. One second later, he doubled over with a hiss, and clutched his upper arm where Atle had boxed him.

“That’s for leaving Sander with Henrik in Kranjska Gora,” Lucas said.

“I told you I’m sorry. It was just five minutes.”

“A lot can happen in five minutes,” Atle said, his voice dripping with reproach. He turned to Sander. “We should have never left you alone. It’ll be better next season, I promise.”

Sander laughed. It came easy, now that he had done his duty. Now that he never had to think back to that night again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Henrik and I are cool.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and grinned at them.  Atle blinked at him with wide eyes for a moment, before:

“Ow fuck!,” Timon yowled.

[untitledtheunknown]

RE: ROGUE; TEAM UPDATE

Pulled some strings, called in a few favors, but think I have our next merc group set up. Least the makings of it, few odd bodies we may pick up along the way. Running out of chances to end this thing going on with Umbra. NC is about to get a lot messier if the rat problem isn't dealt with and think this is our best shot.

First things though, sent that message like a month ago that The Veils are looking to move West, they're moving into Cali for whatever reason Azera has seen. Lord just follows her orders, but the rest of the clan follows them to death. Well, they're finally making the move which has both been a good and bad thing for us and our Nomad friends out in the Badlands. They're making quick work of some Wraith encampments, but Lord has no interest in allies, he'll start, if he hasn't already, wiping out every clan that's in their way. This is where we need to start making deals, Aldecaldos ain't gonna just give up their territory, Wraiths aren't getting a choice, and we can't have just a sit down with Lord and Azera.

Where our first new agent comes in; they have a daughter, Silver. She runs a lot of their military ops, likes her guns big and the explosions bigger. She's agreed to work with me, and by extension you, as she is compassionate, she wants to find that middle ground that doesn't involve the mindless slaughter of other "noble" clans. She's going to be our muscle, she has access to a armory of weapons of war, explosives, tanks, gun galore - you name it, she has access to it. She works with us, we work with her, she can convince at least her mother to have the other clans spared. Have to pull our weight that they're worth saving, satisfy Lord's bloodlust, because biggest fear is it wont stop at the city line. She has her own motives for wanting to get close, long story about situations going on back at base. Tell you some other time, probably sooner than later, but yeah. Silver is good, she's young, but she grew up with Vets and Panzerboys, she knows her shit and knows how to take orders just as well as dish them out. Her team comes first, just don't treat her as a rookie.

Emile Martinez, may of heard of her under the name Red Ring. I know you said to get a Netrunner, but trust me on her, she's better than any Runner you can find. Techie Crystaljock, she does everything old school. She knows viruses and net shutouts better than anyone. Hell, how many times she's been under investigation by NetWatch for potential RABBIDS outbreak? They really think she's the second coming of the Net wipe out, and I don't blame them. She can clear a 5 story building in 10sec flat; stealth is always an option, stealth killing the whole gang is another one. Contagion and viruses are her specialties, all her bugs are made by her and controlled strictly by her. She works on old school tech and uses old programs that are so out of date new systems can't block them out. But if we need, she is an expert hacker, she can crack most systems and override almost every security program she can get into. She just ain't about committing her life to cyberspace. She rather pull them into the real world. She's a bit wild, and has a temper, may push back. But she's damn good at what she does and her expertise in older tech may just be the foot up we need on these rats.

Now, I really need you to trust me on this next one. Håkan Rikusson, ex-Panzerboy out of Sweden, he had an incident several years back. Cyberpsychosis, but you know that's just a scape goat they use when they don't want to figure out what's going on with someone mentally. He had an incident, freaked out, like 3 people were injured and no deaths. Thing is when the cops, or Max or who the fuck ever went in to neutralize him; he did their job for them. Had burned out his eyes with some type of acid, sewn his mouth shut and was bound to the kitchen table. Took him to medical and besides the self inflicted injuries, he was completely fine, sound of mind even. This is where I need you to trust me, I'm putting my own name on the line for him, I know this guy, I've worked with him and he gets shit done. He thinks he's a reincarnation of Loki... don't know if it's how he copes with whatever happened or what. But he's got more tech in him now then he did then, and he pulls contracts for the likes of Arasaka, Militech, OASIS, you name it. He's a stealth guy, he gets in, cops data, takes what's needed and gets out. Not to mention he's a damn good fighter in hand to hand, and melee style. Guns he can do, but ain't his style.

Kelvy is also back in NC, may have stopped by the bar by now, dunno. She's going to be helping with recon, already fed her what I've got on the cult situation and where it started. She's not going flat out and asking. As much as I hate to say it - we can't go for a straight attack on this, Umbra needs to make the first move. We need to take them down slow but steady, wait for the slip and make our moves. What ounce of sanity he had is slipping away, he's going to get messy, just hope we'll have enough time on that.

Crew will be in NC in a couple days, Silver is already here, can get you two introduced. Meanwhile have my people working the Corpos in Inferno Luxuria, seeing what loose lips can spill on insider knowledge. I'm going to keep Ker in Vegas for another week, see if anything else comes up on this stalker issue. Damion has muscle from the Kings watching him... that's another story. Lot of those lately, need to catch up.

- Valor

[cyb3rc1own]

𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞:^)

[emedeme]

got kinda early from work today and i wasn’t completely exhausted...so i began to doodle a bit and got visited by the ghost of old characters i miss very dearly :__)

it’s amazing to see how much my style has changed over the years (and how much their faces kept changing lmao) but somehow i still manage to make them look like themselves.

[morrigansbf]

Thanks for helping me with those things. I’m Ryder.

[catgirlbutthole]

Hey there folks! I see a lot of posts going around about how to protect yourself from tear gas and other police weapon, so I thought i could also make my own post, sharing my experience as a french street medic (french and american police tactics are very different, but protection and first aid can be very similar)

this will very much not be complete and can definitely be improved, but spreading help is the best i can do from here.

Tear gas

tear gas can be a few different things. It can be CS or OC, delivered by grenades or spray. they have similar effects but may need but to be treated slightly differently.

Grenades are to my knowledge exclusively CS. They’re crystals of that molecule hanging around in smoke grenades, and they will strongly irritate all muscous membrane they come in contact with (so youe eyes, your nose, your mouth, your respiratory system, etc.). The most important thing to do if u are exposed to tear gas smoke grenades is to not touch your face. You might need to close your eyes to avoid pain, but try as much as you can to get away from the cops and close to safety. if you feel it is hard to breathe you may sit down, but if anything is wrong scream “medic” if there is any available street medic around, they will be there to provide help.

To protect yourself from tear gas, you need waterproof goggles ( like swimming googles). any will do, but try to get ones will larger glasses, cause the small one may make any injury to the face worse. You can also use a facemask to protect you from breathing tear gas, and for that, don’t use surgical facemask, turn to industrial facemask. a “single use” FFP2 mask can be not too expensive and allow you to be safe for a few protests. But it can get only one of the two, focus on the glasses. you can hold your breath for a few seconds in a gloud of gas, but being completely blinded will make it much more difficult.

To treat someone who has been exposed to tear gas, you may use what’s called a CS decontaminant. it’s a product made specifically for this. cops often carry this. It’s expensive, but if you plan on helping a lot of people, it might be worth the price. spray someone’s face with it, accompany them out of the gas, and they’ll be feeling much better. Otherwise, The best procedure is to clean one’s eyes with physiological saline. it’s sterile water with 0.9% salt that comes in little 5ml bottles. hold someone’s eyes open with sterile gloves (that haven’t been exposed to gas) and use the bottle to clean it from inside to outside (so as to not get contaminated saline in the other eye, nose our mouth). Other “homemade” decontaminant (such as LAW, baking soda, etc, are kinda controversial. i use LAW for breathing problems, but i’ll let you do your research on that.)

Now, pepper spray is a little different. Tear gas in a spray form can be CS or OC (”OC” is the name given to capsaicin gas. it’s like peppers but extremely concentrated) it has similar effects, but since it tends to be more focused, it hurts a whole lot more. To protect yourself from it is the same thing, altho it is much easier to breathe this.

To treat someone exposed to it is similar to regular tear gas, but in order to use CS decontaminant, you need to make sure the gas isn’t OC. In case you are unsure, use the saline washing method.

Rubber Bullets, batons and punches.

if someone gets knocked by one of these, they may have a simple contusion, in which case the best you can do is apply some cold spray, or an ice pack, to help with the pain, but that’s about it; unfortunately yhey just need time to heal. If something is broken tho, then require much more urgent care. if like me you are not qualified to deal with traumas, try to leave to this to someone more qualified. otherwise, you might need to get the victim out of the conflict zone and to emergency medical services asap.

If u need more qualification on applying first aid, I recommand your check if someone around you offers formation. They will teach you a lot of useful stuff. Check around with your local street medics if they need supplies or even hands to help.

If ur intersted in becomming a medic, i highly suggest you read the “Riot Medicine” Book, written by  Håkan Geijer. it is a great book, i am reading over and over to use as sourcefor forming other street medics.

I hope this is useful information that everyone fighting for justice in Minneapolis, all over the US and everywhere can find interesting. Justice for George Floyd, Abolish the Police!

[crazime]

Hetalia Ocs names

Berlin: Hidenfus "Alphonse"

Naples: Serena

Campania: Maria

Salerno: Matteo

Baronissi: Francesco

Copenhagen: Rasmus

Malmö: Håkan

Vienna: Elisabeth

Florence: Beatrice

Europe: Mary

Stockholm: Ana Christine

Kyoto: Sakura

Rio de Janeiro: Sebastião

Scitera: Elisea Benedicta

[onestagetospace]

Theme Park Mars

Imagine being a young child going to your favorite theme park. After being promised for months by your parents you and your little brother are go. You drive 1000 km just to get there and see that big roller coaster in the distance. Your heart starts pounding with anticipation, only to hear that for the next two years you first have to drive circles around the parking lot before you are allowed to get closer. You’d be underwhelmed and your parents better have a good reason… Worse: two years ago they sent in your little brother first and he was never heard of again. The little Sherlock you are, and bored as hell, this requires some serious sniffing around.

That is exactly what happened to the ExoMars probe (Exobiology on Mars) that ESA and RFSA, the Russian Space Agency, sent to MARS.

And it was on purpose:

Patience has its own rewards

Launched March 14, 2016 on a Russian Proton rocket, The ExoMars Trace Gas Orbiter  (TGO) arrived at Mars in October 2016, to investigate the potentially biological or geological origin of trace gases in the atmosphere. It will also serve as a relay, connecting future rovers on the surface with their controllers on Earth. On its back, it carried its little brother Schiaparelli, a small probe testing European landing technology.

A suite of four science instruments will make complementary measurements of the atmosphere, surface and subsurface. Its camera will help to characterize features on the surface that may be related to trace-gases sources, such as volcanoes.

It will also look for water-ice hidden just below the surface, which along with potential trace gas sources could guide the choice for future mission landing sites.

These are the four instruments:

NOMAD: The Nadir and Occultation for Mars Discovery, developed by Belgium, has two infrared and one ultraviolet spectrometer channels.

ACS: The Atmospheric Chemistry Suite , developed by Russia, has three infrared spectrometer channels. NOMAD and ACS will provide the most extensive spectral coverage of Martian atmospheric processes so far. Detection of atmospheric trace species, clues for Methane produced by a biological origin, at the parts-per-billion (ppb) level will be possible.

CaSSIS: The Colour and Stereo Surface Imaging System , developed by Switzerland, is a high-resolution, 4.5 m per pixel (15 ft/pixel), color stereo camera. It will build accurate digital elevation models of the Martian surface, which is also an important tool for characterizing candidate landing sites for future manned missions.

FREND: The Fine-Resolution Epithermal Neutron Detector, developed by Russia,is a neutron detector that can provide information on the presence of hydrogen, in the form of water or hydrated minerals, in the top 1 m (3 ft 3 in) of the Martian surface.

Sniffing for life

Particularly, the mission will characterize spatial, temporal variation, and localization of sources for a broad list of atmospheric trace gases.

If methane (CH4) is found in the presence of propane (C3H8) or ethane (C2H6), that will be a strong indication that biological processes are involved. However, if methane is found in the presence of gases such as sulfur dioxide (SO2), that would be an indication that the methane is a byproduct of geological processes. (*)

English: Visualization of a methane plume found in Mars’ atmosphere during the northern summer season. 15 January 2009, credit NASA/Trent Schindler,  http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/mars/news/marsmethane_media.html (Public Domain)

But before any of this could get underway, the spacecraft had to transform its initial, highly elliptical four-day orbit of about 98 000 × 200 km into the final, much lower and circular path at about 400 km. From the parking lot, to the entrance gate, so to speak.

And it took a long time.

Slowing a car with a breath of air

The method used is called aerobraking. To conserve as much propellant as possible, the TGO slows down rubbing against Mars’s upper atmosphere on each pass it makes on its elliptical path. And this is a delicate maneuver: too steep an angle and you burn up. That is the reason why only a small amount can be bled away on each pass and why it took two years to complete the maneuver.

In numbers: According to ESA, the thin upper atmosphere provides only gentle deceleration – at most some 17 mm/s each second. How small is this?

If you braked your car at this rate from an initial speed of 50 km/h to stop at a junction, you’d have to start 6 km in advance.

“Over a year, we’ve reduced the speed of the spacecraft by an enormous 3600 km/h, lowering its orbit by the necessary amount,” says TGO spacecraft operations manager Peter Schmitz.

The approach used means the probe has plenty of remaining propellant for future use and potential mission extensions.

As a result, it was only on on 20 February at 17:20 GMT, when the craft fired its thrusters for about 16 minutes to raise the closest approach to the surface to about 200 km, well out of the atmosphere. This effectively ended the aerobraking campaign, leaving it in an orbit of about 1050 × 200 km.

The 21st of February 2018, ESA finally sent out its press release with the triumphant title, “SURFING COMPLETE”.

“During some orbits, we were just 103 km above Mars, which is incredibly close.“

Are we there yet?

In the next month, the control team will command the craft through a series of up to 10 orbit-trimming maneuvres, one every few days, firing its thrusters to adjust the orbit to its final two-hour, circular shape at about 400 km altitude, expected to be achieved around mid-April.

The initial phases of science gathering, in mid-March, will be devoted to checking out the instruments and conducting preliminary observations for calibration and validation. The start of routine science observations should happen around 21 April.

“Then, the craft will be reoriented to keep its camera pointing downwards and its spectrometers towards the Sun, so as to observe the Mars atmosphere, and we can finally begin the long-awaited science phase of the mission,” says Håkan Svedhem, ESA’s project scientist, on the ESA website

Of course, that much patience is inhumane. Over the course of the past two years, the instruments had been tested on occasion and already showed us surprising

And what happened to its little brother?

Schiaparelli, the landing experiment the size of a living room table failed on 19 October 2016. Something that happens a lot when you try to land on Mars for the first couple of times.  A British probe, Beagle 2, already landed in 2003 but failed to open its solar panels and communications antenna properly. It took two years of suspense before an American Mars orbiting probe in 2005 took pictures demonstrating this was the case.

Schiaparelli failed more spectacularly: Using its thrusters it first came to a perfect standstill and then still managed to crash. This is because its sensors got confused which resulted the probe coming to a vertical standstill far above the surface.

A nightmare for the nail biting engineers having labored with passion on the design, it all comes down to sensor fog.  Only to see it end with a bitter taste in a somewhat slap stick fashion.

Wile E. Coyote , the comical Looney Tunes cartoon character  from the Warner Bros Studios, couldn’t have executed the maneuver any better.

But this analysis wouldn’t do the little lander justice. The thrusters and heat shield worked perfectly. These items can now be erased from the European R&D to-do list.

Europe is not throwing in the glove, far from it. It is even raising it’s ambitions.

Peeking under ground

A long time in the making and less than three years from now, one of ESA’s most ambitious scientific endeavors will blast off in 2020, and head for the planet Mars. If all goes according to plan, the European-built 2020 ExoMars rover and a Russian surface platform will be delivered safely onto the planet’s orange, dusty plains in 2021.

The orbiting TGO will serve as its data communications relay while the ExoMArs rover searches for signs of past life.

It will be the first probe ever to drill down into the martian soil, 2 meters deep to look for microbes and characterize the layers of soil. A first for Europe.

ExoMars rover, you read the instructions: land safely.

Thumbs up.

Sources:

ESA website: press article, 21 February 2018, SURFING COMPLETE

ESA website: press article, 05 September 2017, A WINDOW ON THE EXOMARS ROVER’S SEARCH FOR MARTIAN LIFE

Footnote:

(*)Methane:

The nature of the methane source requires measurements of a suite of trace gases in order to characterise potential biochemical and geochemical processes at work. The orbiter has very high sensitivity to (at least) the following molecules and their isotopomers: water (H2O), hydroperoxyl (HO2), nitrogen dioxide (NO2), nitrous oxide (N2O), methane (CH4), acetylene (C2H2), ethylene (C2H4), ethane (C2H6), formaldehyde (H2CO), hydrogen cyanide (HCN), hydrogen sulfide (H2S), carbonyl sulfide (OCS), sulfur dioxide (SO2), hydrogen chloride (HCl), carbon monoxide (CO) and ozone (O3). Detection sensitivities are at levels of 100 parts per trillion, improved to 10 parts per trillion or better by averaging spectra which could be taken at several spectra per second.

Thomas, I. R.; Vandaele, A. C.; Neefs, E.; et al. (2017). “The NOMAD Spectrometer Suite on the ExoMars 2016 Orbiter: Current Status” (PDF). The Sixth International Workshop on the Mars Atmosphere: Modelling and Observation. 17-20 January 2017. Granada, Spain. Bibcode:2017mamo.conf.4401T.

Montmessin, F. “Atmospheric Chemistry Suite: Science Overview” (PDF). LATMOS CNRS, France. p. 44. Retrieved 14 March 2016. Determining the origin of methane on Mars can only be addressed by looking at methane isotopologues and at higher alkanes (ethane, propane).

McKie, Robin (20 February 2016). “‘Giant nose in the sky’ ready for lift-off in mission to sniff out traces of life on Mars”. The Guardian. Retrieved 21 February 2016.

Vandaele, A. C.; et al. “NOMAD, a spectrometer suite for nadir and solar occultation observations on the ExoMars Trace Gas Orbiter” (PDF). Institut des NanoSciences de Paris. Retrieved 4 September 2015.

  Europe finally in orbit around Mars Theme Park Mars Imagine being a young child going to your favorite theme park. After being promised for months by your parents you and your little brother are go.

[filurig]

updated some humanoid designs for some of mah old basilisk guys to make sense with da updated lore for them hihi

[filurig]

late midsummer drawing..... happy (late midsummer).... showcasing midsummer at folke’s :3

[filurig]

gossiping :) mainly drew this to make a new outfit for her but....

[filurig]

decided to whip up one of these bcs i had to Thonk . thonk it

[filurig]

– this whole - the dancing, singing, pole...raising. it is all rather ridiculous... 'midsummer'. i fail to... see the point of this human... invention. for once.

arvo's words were slurred, uneven - as if merely letting them past his lips was a great effort... this was, no doubt, influenced by the drink in his hand, resting on his stomach. folke, who had, in fact, brewed the alcohol that they were drinking, giggled - not exactly sober himself.

– i'm... the only human here, arvo. remember...

– no kraksi, or crakam, in sartrill, raises a huge, leafy pole for long summer days, that much i know.

– okay, haha - the pole thing... the pole thing is entirely human, probably. but... gullmar - tomtar, celebrate 'solvarvir' around the same time... trolls celebrate, uh... oh, curses, i'll butcher it... 'rawr - owa'... rawrr - oh wra? rawr... haha!

arvo opened one of his eyes slowly, fighting against some kind of weight that has, somehow, been set upon them - in order to look at the human beside him, still struggling to pronounce the foreign word correctly. a corner of the basilisk's lips twitched upwards.

– hm. nevermind what i said. there is a certain element of entertainment present, i suppose...