#'some men just need to get more serious/disciplined... I mean they need to be prepared to defend their country

[whoviandoodler]

grandma's real bad for my 'don't anger yourself into further digestive disorders' goal

[shinidamachu]

I need some Inuyasha as a great father (more like DILF, amirite?) headcanons, can you help me out?

I'm here to serve!

• It isn’t until they’re happily married for at least one or two years that the possibility of children are brought up.

• At first, they took that time to relearn each other, enjoy their company and make the honeymoon phase last a little long. They did spend three years apart, after all. There’s so much time to make up for, so many catching up to do before they’d even think to throw a kid into the mix. Plus, being a modern woman, Kagome would know how to avoid pregnancy the best her new circumstances allowed and how important that time alone is for a newly-married couple.

• They never actually had the child talk because Kagome just assumed that’s where their relationship would naturally lead to, given her motherly tendencies and Inuyasha’s history of ultimately giving her everything she wants. For his part, Inuyasha knew she wanted to be a mother someday and he'd be lying if he said he never indulged the fantasy of fathering her children. However, he has serious trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that, in reality, Kagome would still be up for it if he were to be the father. He could never dare to ask of her more than she has already given him. Be that as it may, it was not a big deal because it was not a dealbreaker. Nothing was.

• But with time, Kagome would have noticed how good Inuyasha is with Hisui and the Mirsan twins. How his relationship with Shippo had developed from a sibling banter to a makeshift paternal relationship. How people like Shiori and Bunza would look up to him like he was some kind of movie hero. How every kid in the village seemed to adore him despite his grumpy demeanor.

• And Inuyasha would have noticed the way Kagome would look at him whenever he so much as interacted with a child, the way her smell would spike significantly.

• She, of course, was the one to make the first move, jumping him one night, after they had spend the whole day stuck with babysitting the Mirsan children and popping the question.

• Inuyasha was relutant. There was a part of him that was adamant on making her happy and even believed having babies would make him happy too. On the other hand, he was terrified. Terrified of how her body would react to childbirth, of if her spiritual powers would accept his demonic energy. But mostly, about what would happen once the baby was born. The last thing he wanted was for Kagome to go through everything his mother had to go through. Or for another kid to face the same prejudice he did. Besides, he grew up with no father figure whose steps he could follow. He didn’t know how to be a father.

• Kagome assures him that they won’t have a baby until they’re both ready and on the same page, that they have time and that Inuyasha will be a great father.

• Inuyasha believes her.

• Then it is him felling some type of way whenever he sees Kagome around kids. And something deep inside desperately wishes to find out what would their children look like, what would it be like to hold and take care of someone born from their love.

• Finally, he caves.

• Inuyasha wants a big family, considering how lonely his childhood was. Kagome finds it pivotal for their first-born to have a sibling, since she had Sota and their relationship was one of the most important things in her life. That’s why they’d have two children minimum, preferably a boy and a girl. However, giving how dangerous and uncomfortable childbirth can be, especially without the perks the modern era provides, I don’t think they’d have more than three.

• Naturally, Inuyasha relies on Miroku for advice and the latter is more helpful than not. Except for the times Inuyasha asks or says something that makes it way too easy for Miroku to mess with him. Like the time he told Inuyasha that if he doesn’t get Kagome whatever food she craves while pregnant, the baby will be born looking exactly like that food. And Inuyasha believed him.

• And if you thought Inuyasha was protective of Kagome before... oh boy! He’d be almost overbearing, but Kagome would see it as endearing. Most of the time. Sometimes, though, a woman has got to have her privacy. He also becomes more attentive, more gentle, sweeter.

• After their first child is born, Inuyasha gets a makeover of sorts. He’s always borrowing the Fire Rat to Kagome and the baby anyway, so he figured it’d be more practical to just pass the clothes on to them already and get something new for himself.

• It’s white.

• Inuyasha becomes taller, stronger. And often lets Kagome experiment with his hair with braids, top nots... and ponytails.

• Old Myoga is the first one to notice the resemblance. And it’s true. He’s the spitting image of Toga. Former enemies and allies often mistaken him for Toga and Kagome thinks the look on their (and Inuyasha’s) face is hilarious.

• Sesshoumaru does not care for it (I stole this one from @heavenin--hell).

• Inuyasha hates his human nights even more because now his vulnerability also means he might not be able to protect his family as he usually would (Together Changed by @goshinote and @lostinfantasyworlds inspired this one). Plus, the black hair and lack of dog ears confuses the baby, who cries and fusses for a good while until realizing it is, in fact, Inuyasha holding them (this one I saw in an adorable fanart I can’t find).

• But since he needs way less sleeping than humans and he spends the New Moons up anyway, Inuyasha gets a lot of quality time with their infant at night, which allows Kagome to actually get a good night sleep unless the baby is hungry.

• The Beads of Subjugation get dooled and chewed on. A lot.

• A little contest takes place between Kagome and Inuyasha about what the first word of their first child would be, with Kagome going for “dada” and Inuyasha going for “mama.”

• Kagome wins.

• Inuyasha’s fighting style changes. He still says some snarky remarks, but now it’s more to push his opponent‘s buttons down so they would get sloppy than anything else. After all, he has a child to think about and provide for now. He doesn’t have the luxury of gambling with his life anymore. He has a home to come back to and therefore won’t be taking any chances (credit to @born-for-eachother for this one).

• And so he becomes more lethal on the battle field. Pragmatic. Objective. Calculating. Decisive. Cold blooded. Much like... Sesshomaru.

• He had never been more offended on his life than the day Sango pointed this out to him.

• When the kids grow up a bit, Inuyasha and Kagome start to tell them bedtime stories, with the PG version of the story about how the met and defeated Naraku being their favorite.

• Kagome tries to be a reliable and calm narrator while Inuyasha exaggerates the events and the voices, almost always breaking objects of their house in the process.

• After hearing one too many times about the Beads of Subjugation, their child tries to “sit” Inuyasha. Of course it doesn’t work, but he still makes a big deal out of throwing himself on the ground every time they say the word just to hear them laugh.

• The first actual toy Inuyasha buys them is a ball, just like the one he had as a kid, at the same time accomplishing a childhood wish through them and ensuring that they would always have someone to play with.

• Kagome is more protective of their physical state while Inuyasha is more protective of their emotional one (see Fist Fight by @omgitscharlie)

• Inuyasha goes to Totosai and asks him to make a weapon out of one of his fangs to each of their children once they get old enough for it. Not necessarily a sword, just something of their choice and that better fits their personality.

• He would be a just father, doing his best to show no favoritism, treat his children equally and make sure no one felt overlooked or unloved.

• But truth be told, if one of their babies turn out to be a daughter, he would definitelly let her get away with almost anything, no matter how much of a gremlin she is. Daddy’s little girl would have him wrapped around her tiny fingers.

• Life never treated Inuyasha kindly. From a very young age, it was kill or be killed. It wouldn't be too far off for him to think the exact same thing could happen with his kids, therefore he tries to prepare them, to tough them up so they can take it.

• And I believe this sentiment would be significantly amplified with a son, because it would involve the whole “suck it up”, “men don’t cry” and “man of the house” aspect of it. The “it is your duty to protect your mother and sister when I’m gone” too, especially because he couldn’t protect Izayoi himself.

• It’s “tough love”, but it’s love nonetheless. And in the right dose, which I believe Inuyasha manages to nail, it can be very important for one’s development and growth.

• But it’s hard to imagine him being as tough with a daughter. Probably because he sees so much of Kagome on her that the mere idea of seeing her cry simply breaks him.

• Kagome would actually have to step in when it comes to disciplining and saying “no”, because he simply wouldn’t have it in him to do so.

There’s actually a really nice post by @keichanz I reblogged a while ago discussing precisely that, but I can’t find it to save my life (should I start to properly tag my reblogs? No, it’s a lot of work and I’m right not to).

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.

Peace out.

[foxtailapp]

All About Mental Health in BDSM Dating

This post is originally from Pleasure Uncensored by Foxtail. It can be found here.

BDSM dating can have an effect on a person's mental health. To understand, you must first understand what BDSM is.

  What is BDSM Dating?

  BDSM dating refers to dating in a subculture based on various rules and restrictions related to the interactions between people to meet sexual needs. BDSM stands for bondage, sadism, masochism, domination, and submission.

  These concepts comprise three relationship pairs: BD - bondage and discipline, DS - Dominant- submissive, and SM - sadomasochism.

  In general terms, BDs are time-limited sessions with a variety of practices and strict delineation of roles. Fixation, sensory deprivation, role-playing - all this refers to the BD. But, as a rule, this type of relationship with role-playing games and educational programs doesn't go beyond the bedroom.

  DS assumes a prolonged transfer of power over all or (more often) some areas of life. Example: The big boss of the house is subordinate to his wife in everything, including the need to wear thongs with flowers and go to the gym. Submission and domination can be both in the bedroom and extended a lifetime.

  SM is a painful stimulus to get pleasure. The sadist likes to torture, and the masochist enjoys to suffer.

  The main thing to understand is the fundamental principles of BDSM; without rules, it can turn from an exciting game into ordinary violence.

  A basic rule of BDSM is SSC which means Safe, Sane, and Consensual.

  How do you interpret SSC in BDSM?

    Safe = SECURITY.

  All parties involved will make every effort to preserve their physical and mental health.

  Sometimes it is complicated to avoid injuries: ropes pinch nerves, and blood vessels, games with breathing are fraught with suffocation, illiterate flogging leads to skin damage and internal organs. Thus, the main thing that a sane sadist starts with is the study of anatomy and safety.

  Sane = MIND.

  Life is not limited to games, and the participants in the process are adequate. This means you must have responsibility for what is happening, even if you are in a lower role. For example, the principle of safety in SM is impracticable without a sober assessment of one's own capabilities, regular monitoring of health status, and informing a partner about all potential problems.

  Consensual = VOLUNTARY

  Everything that happens, even the most painful and disgusting, happens according to an active and unequivocally expressed desire. This is one of the reasons why session scripts and practices are discussed in detail in advance. Otherwise, there can always be reticence, and game violence will turn into reality.

  Who likes BDSM?

    When psychologists began to study natural BDSM dating communities, a lot of exciting things turned out. People who practice BDSM are psychologically healthier than those around them. Typically they are more extroverted, more open to new experiences, less neurotic, and less prone to a range of mental disorders, for example, from depression to anxiety, paranoia, and (surprise!) pathological sadism.

  According to various estimates, 20% of the world's population is inclined to BDSM. These people use bondage, masks, and blindfolds. Unlike paraphilias like fetishism, BDSM attracts both women and men equally. Participation in BDSM, as a rule, does not cover the experience of childhood trauma and violence.

  BDSM practices do not interfere, and in some cases, even help establish close and trusting relationships between partners.

  Most people view BDSM as reckless, dangerous, and unhealthy, a phenomenon whose representatives are allegedly mentally ill people. However, this is actually not the case: BDSM is just a sexual preference that can benefit health.

      BDSM Dating and Mental Health

  Recent research on BDSM and its effects on the body has shown excellent results. Scientists find no evidence of harm caused by the psychosocial subculture of BDSM, but they are finding that it does have health benefits.

    Funny games of dominance and submission

  How do BDSM practices affect the psyche?

  In addition, researchers note that such practices can have a stimulating effect on self-awareness. For example, they connect the practice and mindfulness meditation, known to have beneficial effects on mental and physical health and reduce anxiety.

  Apparently, pain during BDSM practices helps focus attention on the sensations we are experiencing and immerses us in a meditative state and thereby helps to relieve tension.

  Studies of people practicing light BDSM practices did not reveal they have serious psychological problems. Moreover, in comparison with the control group, many respondents noted a higher level of subjective satisfaction with life. True, we are talking primarily about those who choose the dominant role or switch (they switch between dominant and submissive).

  Those in the submissive (i.e., subordinate) position reported less life satisfaction compared to dominant people. This is another reason to always pay attention to the psychological state of the participants in the process - and if the practices are not enjoyable, they should definitely be abandoned.

  Games of submission and domination require a certain level of intimacy. The willingness to trust a partner and allow himher to hurt himselfherself a little (with the ability to stop at the first signal), as expected, increases the level of trust in a stable pair.

  A slight fear develops into more excitement and interest in a partner.

  How can BDSM help?

  Fans of complex games claim that some perversions help eliminate anxiety, momentary worries, an endless stream of thoughts from which the head is spinning.

  Playing BDSM games involves the person in specific spaces that affect the person's state of consciousness.

  What is sometimes called the "topspace" is a beautiful place characterized by focused attention, optimal performance, and loss of self-awareness. Try it yourself, see how much you will be focused on your partner and what is happening at the peak of arousal.

  According to lovers of kinky sex, the whole room seems to disappear during their pleasures, leaving only the bed. Nevertheless, it is a poignant pleasure.

  There is also an alternate state that most people know about as "subspace." It is a light sense of submission. This condition is characterized by a decrease in pain, tension, and a return to complete peace and serenity.

  If you have had problems with your nervous system, BDSM dating can be a pleasant way to relieve symptoms.

  Another life hack: if a person suffers from heightened emotionality, spanking can be used for therapeutic purposes. How does it work? Impact pain creates the conditions for emotional release, for example, tears. This can be an effective but temporary solution.

  Should you try BDSM? It Depends.

  It would be best if you were more honest with yourself. Leave the imposed moral principles, and try for a moment to imagine yourself in the role of master or subordinate. Undoubtedly, many have experienced a slight excitement from just the thought of this, which is not surprising.

  A person does not have sex for procreation but for pleasure, so why not get the most of it? Role-playing games, toys from a sex shop, submission, and domination - all this variety in bed will help you get new sensations previously unknown. So when should you try BDSM?

  Long-term marriage in which people no longer feel the need to make love. This phenomenon is widespread everywhere, and it's just that people have become boring to each other.

    Lack of sex leads to moral and physical dissatisfaction, quarrels begin, and just everyday life becomes monotonous. To get a taste of life again, try BDSM.

  Dissatisfaction with regular sex. Many people complain that they are not satisfied with the sex. So, it's time not just to change the position but sexual intercourse as a whole.

  As we have already found out, BDSM allows you to get more aroused and get more pleasure from sex than an ordinary act.

  Stress and depression will go away if you use BDSM. Partners will be able to throw out negative energy during dominance and submission. By the way, the role doesn't matter - dominants and submissives alike get rid of negativity, and gain pleasure.

  So, what does BDSM mean?

  This is a standard sexual practice used by many couples (polls have confirmed). So, nearly all people cannot have mental disorders (right?), which means that it is simply stupid to classify BDSM as a perversion. You have to ignore public opinion and give your desires to the fullest.

  I recommend that you try this practice for a variety of relationships and mental relaxation. First, however, it is worth remembering a vital rule, BDSM is based on the voluntary consent of all parties involved.

  To prepare for such an experience, resolve to participate and not be influenced by a partner.

[cannibalcreepers]

Advantages and disadvantages of dating the cannibals?

Ooooh well like many slashers there is going to be some pros and cons with dating them, and with inbred cannibal hillbilly mountain men? Oh boi are there some pros and cons. 

--

The Advantages!

+ Protection 

To a degree you are going to be very protected, you wouldn’t even get to sneeze without one of those boys noticing. This doesn’t mean they’re perfect though, you still need to be tough and look after yourself, though they will make sure you’re safe and well, there is still chance you’ll fall on your ass and break a bone or be killed by one of their victims, so be aware of your surroundings 

+ Fun times 

It’s always a good time with these boys! Well mostly One-Eye and Three-Fingers, fun times with Saw-Tooth means fun ‘adult’ times that sometimes happen in the bed. But other than that, with the other two brothers it's a variety of messing around or playing, heck these two could make chores fun. 

+No Jealousy! 

All three are sharing you and none will get jealous of each other, you are safe with showering one with a bit more love cause the other two know they’ll be getting that kind of love soon or they can just sneak in to receive some of that extra love you’re giving their brother. They have been sharing everything in their life, sharing you is nothing new. 

+ Get taught how to protect yourself and how to use a weapon 

Be a bit foolish if you didn’t know how to protect yourself when dating these boys, they will teach you how to kill people, cut people open, use firearms, how to drive, use bows and arrows, how to throw a knife into someone’s chest, how to set up traps, how to make traps and so much more. Bear Grylls got nothing on these three boys. 

+ Get all the sweet loving and respect 

If you’ve reached that part of the relationship where you’ve been integrated into the family, you now get placed into a role of importance and given respect and love, by then you should have established yourself and shown what you can do for them and their family. So all the sweet loving would be thrown your way, this mostly being snuggles, hugs, kisses from some of the boys. Saw-Tooth, not so much, but any signs of affection from him would be an award itself, as for Three-Fingers and One-Eye, well affection is bound to happen. 

+ Away from civilization and Stress of Life 

Living in the mountain woods of West Virginia means bye bye civilization and the rest of the world. No more jobs, no more crowds, no more family (if you wanted to get away from them that’s a plus) no more stress of the world placed on your shoulders. Living with the three boys is simple, easy living. You work for your food and you spend time with the boys, that is all that is needed, that and making sure no one escapes alive. 

+Learn how to be an individual and stronger 

You will become strong and independent for sure, the boys wont baby you and will make sure you can carry your own weight in work. It’s a good teaching lesson of self discipline and learning how to successfully both work in a team and look after yourself if you get into a tight spot. 

The Disadvantages!  

x You will never see the outside world ever again

Even though it would sound good at the start, it is for serious means you will never leave their hut ever again. No more holidays, no trips, no seeing your friends or family (if you want to) no fast food or any outside food unless stolen from victims. You will live in that forest and you will die in that forest. 

x No privacy

Yeah you won't even get to piss without them boys knowing it, no privacy at all with them and they will follow you if you decide to go for a walk alone. You like being alone and get energy through just chilling? To fucking bad, I hope you enjoy one if not all three staring at you, laying on you, leaning on you, touching you, tugging you, pulling you and pretty much being all up in your space at all times. If you’re lucky you may get alone time when they go out hunting but don’t be counting for too long cause it wont last. 

x You are now a cannibal and murderer 

This, you have zero choice in, the boys will not be changing their eating habits for anyone and you better suck it up buttercup cause you will be eating humans for the rest of your life. They also will expect you to help in killing and preparing food, you need to contribute to the family work as there was no slacking with them. 

x You will never see your family or friends ever again 

The obvious one, if you did have a good relationship with family and friends then hope you said some nice things to them when you last saw them cause you are never seeing them again. High chances if they try and find you, they will end up dead to the hands of your new lovers. Hope that isn’t a deal breaker, cause if you cause a problem for them getting rid of outsiders then they may reconsider this relationship you are all having. 

x Dating starts off pretty crummy 

Yeah, though it will end really well, the start of dating them is a nightmare. No freedom, no choices, being pushed around and possibly bullied, saying no is sadly not a choice so you need to be 100% sure you are willing to accept these cannibal boys or you’re just ending up as a meal if you become a problem. Once you start proving yourself though things start sailing smoothly

x They stink really badly 

These boys are RANK! And there is nothing you can do about it, you can hose them down as much you want they gonna stink and every part of them stink real bad. Like you wont be able to tell what is sweat, piss, blood or shit and if it’s theirs, an animals or a victims (high chances many is just animals and victims) and they do wash in the river every so often if they can’t take the smell anymore but that is still a rare occasion. 

Better hope you get used to it fast 

x No technology at all 

Other than maybe a radio, tv or walkie-talkies. 

There is no technology, no internet, no phones, nothing that will let you contact the outside world and even if you got your hands on something there is no service in those mountains. So say goodbye to any blogs or accounts you got, you Instagram is gonna be dead and all your followers will think you are as well.   

x Annoying victims  

You may think ‘how does this relate to dating them?’ well this isn’t really their fault and more just an extra, cause dating them means people are gonna end up being killed around you and you will be joining in with killing them no matter what and you will eventually start getting annoyed at how shitty people are towards them and you so now you’re miserable and angry. 

All I can say to this is: date the three Hilliker Brothers UwU

[everythingoesnk]

1957

summary; you come to john’s rescue so he doesn’t fail his test. conversation takes a turn :p

word count; 2 283

warnings; flufliness 🤗🤗

********

On Wednesdays, your older sister was in charge of doing the shopping, but fever had confined her to her bed. By strict orders of your mother, the responsibility was now yours.

That’s why you ran late to meet Mrs Smith and her nephew.

As you stood alone in the hallway, awkward and reluctant, you wished your arrival at 251 Menlon Avenue had been interrupted by the stupidest distraction. Or that you’d have declined to come when you had the opportunity to.

Hearing them arguing upstairs wasn’t what you wanted to do with your evening. Neither was helping John to study for the math test he had the morning after. You couldn’t work miracles, and with this transparency you explained it to your grandma when she compelled you to lend him a hand.

She and Mimi had been good friends for years, and when they were together drinking tea last week, Mimi vented to her how John would distress her in the school field. Music, the young lad was only interested in music. His grades were pitiful, and she found herself running out of stratagems to incite John to get back on track. The guy managed to pass the rest of the subjects, but mathematics were an ordeal for him.

He despised numbers just as he despised having to waste time restricting his Gallotone when he could be rehearsing instead.

“Give me back the guitar, Mimi. Where do you have it?”

“You won’t see it until I hear from the test’s result”

“I’m trying my best!”

“Try harder”

There was a truculent silence that wasn’t a silence per se. They stopped talking, but John’s frantic steps as he paced around the room rummaging around and removing furniture from its place hoping the guitar would be hiding behind were unmistakable.

“It’s not there,” she said, nuisance reflected in her tone, expression inexpressive.

“Unless you ate it it must be somewhere in the house”

Mimi didn’t answer.

“Because it’s in the house, correct?”

Mimi exhaled, giving him a hostile glare. They weren’t in a state where she could throw money around like it was nothing. If she bought him the guitar, it wasn’t to resell it or dispose of it afterwards.

“Of course it is in the house. I’ll return it if you comply with our deal”

After Mimi drew the line, you heard the woman walking down the stairs.

Straightening up, you clasped nervously your fingers around your schoolbag’s strap.

She placed her peculiar hat on top of her hair and covered her figure with a long winter coat. Its corseted structure in the middle cinched in around her already lean frame.

“Do your best” she told you, making sure that she had everything she needed on her. “If you feel like hitting him, you have my permission”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have errands to run”

When Mimi walked over to you, she stopped by your side and looked you up and down.

“The shoes. You dirtied my carpet”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Smith”

You intended to offer cleaning it up yourself until it looked like it did before, but she had other plans.

“When you’re gone I’ll tell John to handle it, the boy lacks discipline. Anyone would think he’s being raised in a jungle rather than a humble home in the northwestern of England and I wouldn’t be able to contradict them”

You had nothing to respond her with, but she didn’t look like she was interested in hearing an answer.

She rekindled her step and marched out the house, half with hurry half slipping away in case John reappeared to keep niggling over how unfair she was.

You’d been in their home previously. Once.

John had been the sergeant who lead the army, devising a prank which sloshed over onto you. Army because his two friends were the ones to set the trap, John keeping his hands clean as the commander and mastermind he thought was. They put a paint bucket on top of the classroom door frame, and the three patiently waited to see who the victim would be.

You spent hours in the shower scraping the tacky liquid off your skin.

That same day, your grandma and you showed up at their doorstep because she wanted him to apologize.

The incident was the reason why you knew where he lived.

You eased down into one of the chairs in the kitchen and dropped your bag onto the table.

John knew you were there, you wouldn’t go searching for him.

Thing is, time went on, and he wouldn’t make an appearance. You checked your wristwatch and cursed. Almost fifteen minutes had ticked by and you were waiting like an idiot for someone who clearly did not care enough.

“Am I dreaming or did I just hear (Y/N) (Y/L/N) saying a bad word?”

You flinched and brought a hand up to your chest.

Looking to the left, you saw him standing barefoot in the doorway with his arms stretched upwards, gripping at the doorframe. Legs crossed at the ankles, a wicked grin curved his lips. He was wearing a white cotton tee and denim trousers that fit him tight in the thighs.

Once recovered from the shock, you shot him a bitter look.

“You’re wasting my time, you know that? The longer you delay it, the worse”

“I’ve had better,” he said, walking over to the sink where two large vertical windows on the wall displayed a perfect view of the back porch.

He closed them, grabbed a plain black sweatshirt that hung from the chair opposite you and put it over his head, messing up even more his already tousled humid hair. It was clear that he had a shower before you showed up. If he hadn’t had, it would be replicating Presley’s.

Until then you didn’t realise that the room was indeed chilly.

“Better what?”

“Better days. Thank you for asking and showing interest” he said, waving vaguely a hand.

He slumped in that same chair and glanced across at you.

“How are you, by the way?”

“Fed up. Tell me what you don’t understand and we’ll practice” you said, pulling out of the schoolbag the book and your pencil case.

John calmly watched you prepare everything. “Geometry, algebraic equations…  The entire book, if you will”

“If that’s the case, I see logic in noting down formulas first, that way you can try and memorize them too” you lifted your gaze and saw him with both hands plunged in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, shoulders relaxed. “Hello? Aren’t you getting something to write on?”

He let silence reign for a moment.

“Out of all the people in class, it had to be you,” he grumbled. You didn’t have a clue about what that was supposed to mean, but now his eyes were piercing into yours to the point where you felt very small very quick. He bounced to his feet with a huff. “I’ll be right back”

Upon his return, he carried with him a notebook with doodlings drawn by him on the cover and a pencil hanging loose between his teeth. Along the way, at some point, he tugged the hood over his face, so now you couldn’t see the top half of it.

He took the seat again and with an unfriendly look began copying the theory.

“If you’d paid attention from the beginning perhaps you wouldn’t be against the clock now”

“I can’t focus if you speak,” he grunted.

“You’re just copying” you said, raising your left eyebrow. “But alright, I’ll shut it”

When he was done, he tossed the pencil and dragged his hands down his face, pulling at the skin under the eyes.

“I hate this” he condemned.

“You hate everything that doesn’t involve music” you clarified, no malice in your statement.

“That’s not true” he scowled, pushing the hood back, actually feeling insulted.

“Alright, tell me something you don’t hate,” you propped your elbows onto the table, laced your fingers and rested your chin there.

“I don’t hate the singing of birds waking me up in the morning, and I don’t hate hanging out with you”

As much as you tried to hide it, John saw how your lips tipped up.

“Am I supposed to feel touched?”

“I’d be really sad if you didn’t. That was smooth”

“Oh wow yes, so smooth, the smoothest” you sneered, taking his notebook to write down a few problems for him to resolve.

“Smoothest” he echoed. “Is that a word?”

“It is” you weren’t sure if he was serious.

“Sounds strange to me, never used it before”

“Venustraphobia sounds awful as well and it’s a real term”

“What does it mean?”

“Fear of attractive women”

“Holy shit, is that true?” he asked, fiddling now with his pencil.

“Yeah”

“So that’s a thing. Does the phobia exist the other way around? Women fearing handsome men?”

“I guess?”

He nodded, amused. “It must be hard for you”

Confused, you raised your eyes and cocked your head with an inquisitive frown.

“Collecting yourself, I mean” he explained, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You’re doing a terrific job pretending you’re not suffering. As you might know, I’m quite charming myself”

You just stared back for some time, holding back a laugh until it became impossible to restrain.

John was so much fun when he didn’t behave like a dick, you hated to admit, which only happened when his macho friends were around. He was the leader of the group, sure, but it seemed that all he wanted was acceptance from them, to belong somewhere. Pretty much he let them change him. Although when he wasn’t near them, the carefree happy bouncy John you knew returned each time.

Abs burning from laughing, you doubled over as you hugged your abdomen. This bitch, you thought. Your shoulders kept shaking as you tried to subside your chuckles, but you couldn’t stop.

John observed your reaction placidly.

Bright with delight, his eyes gleamed when you kept patting your thigh as a conduit for the laughter.

“My God” you breathed, fanning yourself.

“It’s rude using my name in vain,” he teased, wagging the accusatory finger in your direction.

“You’re far from being God” you retorted, your chuckles fading. You gave him back his notebook. “Enough chitchat. Do these exercises and I’ll correct them”

You waited then, keeping an eye on him as well as inspecting your nails to pass the time.

He raked a hand through his hair and kept it there, closing it in a fist at the top of his head.

A sappy feeling settled in your stomach. Seeing him saturated after half an hour trying to get something done softened your heart.

He suddenly looked up, but when he caught you looking too, John quickly dropped his head.

Five more minutes and he passed you the notebook.

“Voilà. Now you can laugh at me”

“I’m not gonna laugh at you. No one is born knowing” you responded quietly.

Silently revising his answers, you got distracted remembering one thing he said earlier.

Rosiness present in your cheeks, your gaze settled cautiously upon him. “You don’t like me?”

His brows drew together in deep puzzlement.

“What?”

“‘Out of all the people in class, it had to be you’” you quoted him, your heart beating erratically. You were worried that its pumps would tear a hole in your chest. “I wanna know why you said that. Is it because you don’t like me?”

A muscle tickled in his jaw, but his expression was humourless.

“That’s not it”

You hoped his response would bloom into something more specific, but he remained with his mouth shut, tension building up between the two.

“What’s it?” you pressed.

Darkness igniting his eyes, he leaned back in his chair.

“Answering your previous question, I do. A lot, actually. That’s my issue”

Petrified, your pulse shot to the sky.

“Why is it an issue?”

“We both know why”

Was John Lennon telling you with all his chest that he was interested in dating you but that he’d never acted upon it ‘cause he assumed you were out of his league?

“You didn’t ask me about my feelings, not once”

“Why would I? You’re sweet and smart. I’m none of that”

Oh, Johnny boy. His words cracked your heart. Lies, they were cruel lies.

“What are you doing this Friday?” you inquired. “I don’t know if you know, but I really like painting. I held an exhibition at school—”

“I’m aware. I was there”

Warmth radiating up your body, you fought back a stunned gasp. “You went?”

He never mentioned it before.

Gazing in each other’s eyes longingly, a goofy side smile fleetingly graced his lips.

Electric tingles spread through your nervous system. You composed yourself with a toss of the head. And he dared to say he wasn’t sweet? You were drowning in diabetes.

“My point is, the school’s newspaper asked me to present something new, and I have yet to finish my piece. Maybe, if you want, you could join me and we make each other company. You can bring your guitar and play some music”

You’re adorable, he wanted to interrupt, mouth twitching.

“I guess I could do that” he said instead.

“Awesome” you bit on your bottom lip, thrilled.

“I’m concerned, though”

“Concerned?” your eyebrows snapped together. Was he having second thoughts? “About what?”

“Concerned that I will start developing venustraphobia now that I’m gonna spend more time with you”

Your laughter hugged his soul.

John contemplated stupefied how easy you made it to fall in love.

Just hearing your giggles was enough for him to understand he could never compose a melody more lovely and magical than that.

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S1E1: The Rise of Voltron

Season 1 Episode 1: The Rise of Voltron

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: Out on the edge of the solar system on Kerberos, Shiro, Sam, and Matt are extracting ice cores from Kerberos’ surface when they’re abducted by a mysterious alien race. One year later, cadets Lance, Pidge, and Hunk pick up alien radio chatter that leads them to find the missing pilot Shiro when he crash lands back on Earth, and they meet Keith, who was attempting to rescue him at the same time. Together, Shiro, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Keith find the Blue Lion, one of five alien spaceships shaped like lions that forms the mysterious Voltron, and they fly to Arus, their next mission is to find and pilot the other four missing Lions of Voltron with the help of Princess Allura and her advisor Coran of the planet Altea to defeat Emperor Zarkon.

[Google Doc]

Sam: Easy, son. This ice is delicate.

Matt: Amazing. Isn’t this exciting, Shiro?

Shiro: You guys get a little more excited about ice samples than I do.

Sam: This is history in the making. Not only have we traveled farther than any human ever has, but this ice could hold microscopic clues about the existence of life outside Earth.

Matt: Think of it, Dad. We could use those clues to become the first people to meet aliens.

Sam: My life’s work would be complete. What is that? Seismic activity?

Shiro: We should get back to the ship.

Sam: What? What is that? It can’t be.

Shiro: Run. Come on, run!

Unnamed Galra Commander: Emperor Zarkon, we were scouting System X-9-Y as ordered when we found these primitive scientists. I don’t think they know anything useful.

Zarkon: Take them back to the main fleet for interrogation. The Druids will find out what they know.

Shiro: Please, we come from a peaceful planet! We mean you no harm! We’re unarmed!

[Scene change to an unmarked hallway lined with holding cells in the Galra ship.]

Male: Look, they brought in another one.

Female: Who is it?

Second Male: Over there. It’s another one.

Shiro: Huh?

[Scene change back to Kerberos, labeled “One Year Later”.]

Lance: Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14. Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission.

Hunk: Lance, can you keep this thing straight?

Lance: Relax, Hunk. I’m just getting a feel for the stick. I mean, it’s not like I did this! Or this!

Hunk: Okay, unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies in this thing, you’d better knock it off, man!

Pidge: We’ve picked up a distress beacon!

Lance: Alright, look alive, team. Pidge, track coordinates.

Pidge: Copy.

Hunk: Knock it off, Lance! Please!

Lance: Well, this one’s on you, buddy, we’ve got a hydraulic stabilizer out.

Hunk: Oh, no.

Lance: Oh, no. Fix now, puke later.

Pidge: I lost contact. The shaking is interfering with our sensors.

Lance: Come on, Hunk!

Hunk: It’s not responding.

Lance: Oh, never mind, fellas. Thar she blows. Preparing for approach on visual.

Pidge: I don’t think that’s advisable with our current mechanical and gastrointestinal issues.

Hunk: Agreed.

Lance: Stop worrying. This baby can take it, can’t you, champ? See? She was--she was nodding. She was nodding. Pidge, hail down to them and let them know their ride is here.

Pidge: Attention, lunar vessel--[screams]

Lance: What are you doing? Buckle your belt. And Hunk, stop that shaking!

Hunk: I’m try--oh, no.

Pidge: Attention, lunar vessel, this is Galaxy Garrison Rescue Craft One Victor Six Three Tango. Coming in for landing and extraction, against crew recommendations.

Lance: No time for your mutinous comments now, Pidge. They’re going under and we’re going in.

Pidge: Look out for that overhang!

Lance: No worries, my first year in flight school, you know what they called me? They called me “The Tailor” because of how I thread the needle. Come around, come around! Come on, come on!

Hunk: We lost a wing!

Lance: Oh, man.

Computer: Simulation failed.

Pidge: Nice work, Tailor.

Iverson: Roll out, donkeys! Well, let’s see if we can’t use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you students. Can anyone point out the mistakes these three so-called cadets made in the simulator?

Student 1: The engineer puked in the main gearbox.

Iverson: Yes. As everyone knows, vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems. What else?

Student 2: The comms spec removed his safety harness.

Student 3: The pilot crashed!

Iverson: Correct. And worst of all, the whole jump, they’re arguing with each other. Heck, if you’re gonna be this bad individually, you’d better at least be able to work as a team! Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astroexplorers, but these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos mission.

Pidge: That’s not true, sir!

Iverson: What did you say?

Lance: Sorry, sir. I think he may have hit his head when he fell out of his chair. But point taken.

Iverson: I hope I don’t need to remind you that the only reason you’re here is that the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out. Don’t follow in his footsteps. Next!

[Scene change to outside the Galaxy Garrison compound.]

Iverson: Lights out in five! Everyone back to their dorms, now.

Hunk: We shouldn’t be doing this.

Lance: You heard Commander Iverson. We need to bond as a team. We’re gonna grab Pidge, hit the town, loosen up, meet some nice girls and--

Hunk: I-I’m just saying this here, right now, on the record. This is a bad idea.

Lance: You know, for someone in a space exploration program, you don’t have much of a sense of adventure.

Hunk: All of your little “adventures” end up with me in the principal’s office. Oh, man.

Guard: L-5 north all clear.

Hunk: I’m fine.

Lance: Where is he going?

[Scene change to the roof of the Galaxy Garrison.]

Lance: You come up here to rock out?

Pidge: Oh, Lance, Hunk. No, um, just looking at the stars.

Lance: Where’d you get this stuff? It doesn’t look like Garrison tech.

Pidge: I built it.

Hunk: You built all of this?

Pidge: Stop it! With this thing, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system.

Lance: That right? All the way to Kerberos? You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up. What’s your deal?

Pidge: Second warning, Hunk.

Lance: Look, Pidge, if we’re going to bond as a team, we can’t have any secrets.

Pidge: Fine. The world as you know it is about to change. The Kerberos mission wasn’t lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake. Stop touching my equipment! So, I’ve been scanning the system and picking up alien radio chatter.

Hunk: Whoa, what? Aliens?

Lance: Okay. So, you’re insane. Got it.

Pidge: I’m serious. They keep repeating one word: “Voltron.” And tonight, it’s going crazier than I have ever heard it.

Lance: How crazy?

Iverson, over PA: Attention, students. This is not a drill. We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu Niner. Repeat: all students are to remain in barracks until further notice.

Hunk: What’s going on? Is that a meteor? A very, very big meteor?

Pidge: It’s a ship.

Lance: Holy crow! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! That’s not one of ours.

Pidge: No. It’s one of theirs.

Hunk: So, wait, there really are aliens out there?

Pidge: We’ve gotta see that ship!

Lance: Hunk, come on!

Hunk: Oh, this is the worst team-building exercise ever.

[Scene change to the cliffs where the mystery space ship landed.]

Lance: Whoa! What the heck is that thing? And who the heck is she?

Pidge: Lance!

Lance: Ow! Right, alien ship. Man, we’ll never get past all those guards to get a look.

Hunk: Aw, man. Yeah, yeah, I guess there’s nothing to do but head back to the barracks, right?

Pidge: Wait, they set up a camera in there and I grabbed its feed. Look!

Shiro: Hey! What are you doing?

Iverson: Calm down, Shiro. We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests.

Shiro: You have to listen to me! They destroy worlds! Aliens are coming!

Lance: That’s Shiro, the pilot of the Kerberos mission! That guy’s my hero!

Hunk: Guess he’s not dead in space, after all.

Pidge: But where’s the rest of the crew?

Iverson: Do you know how long you’ve been gone?

Shiro: I don’t know. Months? Years? Look, there’s no time. Aliens are coming here for a weapon. They’re probably on their way. They’ll destroy us. We have to find Voltron.

Pidge: Voltron!

Man: Sir, take a look at this. It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic.

Iverson: Put him under until we know what that thing can do.

Shiro: No, no, no! Don’t put me under! No! There’s no time!

Pidge: They didn’t ask about the rest of the crew.

Lance: What are they doing? The guy’s a legend. They’re not even gonna listen to him?

Pidge: We have to get him out.

Hunk: Uh, I hate to be the voice of reason here, always, but weren’t we just watching on TV because there was no way to get past the guards?

Lance: That was before we were properly motivated. We’ve just gotta think. Could we tunnel in?

Pidge: Maybe we could get some hazmat suits and sneak in like med techs.

Hunk: Or we dress up like cooks, head back to the dorms, sneak into the commissary, little late-night snack.

Lance: No. What we need is a distraction.

Hunk: Is that the aliens? Is that the aliens? Are they here? They got here so quick!

Pidge: No. Those explosions were a distraction for him. The Garrison’s headed toward the blast, and he’s sneaking in from the other side.

Lance: No way! Oh, he is not going to beat us in there! That guy’s always trying to one-up me!

Hunk: Who is it?

Lance: Keith!

Pidge: Who?

Hunk: Are you sure?

Lance: Oh, I’d recognize that mullet anywhere!

Pidge: Who’s Keith?

Man: These readings are off the chart. Hey!

Keith: Shiro?

Lance: Nope. No, you--no, no, no. No, you don’t. I’m saving Shiro.

Keith: Who are you?

Lance: Who am I? Uh, the name’s Lance. We were in the same class at the Garrison.

Keith: Really, are you an engineer?

Lance: No, I’m a pilot! We were, like, rivals. You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck.

Keith: Oh, wait, I remember you. You’re a cargo pilot.

Lance: Well, not anymore. I’m fighter class now, thanks to you washing out.

Keith: Well, congratulations.

Hunk: Oh, man. They’re coming back and they do not look happy. We gotta go. Uh, do you mind if we catch a ride with you?

Pidge: Is this thing going to be big enough for all of us?

Keith: No.

Pidge: Why am I holding this guy?

Hunk: Hey, we did all fit.

Lance: Can’t this thing go any faster?

Keith: We could toss out some non-essential weight.

Lance: Oh, right! Okay, so that was an insult. I get it.

Keith: Big man, lean left!

All: Whoa!

Hunk: Aw, man! Mr. Harris just wiped out Professor Montgomery! No, no, he’s fine.

Keith: Big man, lean right!

Hunk: Guys? Is that a cliff up ahead?

Lance: Oh, no, no, no!

Keith: Yup.

Pidge: No, no, no!

Lance: What are you doing? You’re going to kill us all!

Keith: Shut up and trust me!

[Scene change to outside Keith’s home.]

Keith: It’s good to have you back.

Shiro: It’s good to be back.

Keith: So what happened out there? Where were you?

Shiro: I wish I could tell you. My head’s still pretty scrambled. I was on an alien ship, somehow I escaped. It’s all a blur. How did you know to come save me when I crashed?

Keith: You should come see this.

[Scene change to inside Keith’s home.]

Shiro: What have you been working on?

Keith: I can’t explain it, really. After getting booted from the Garrison, I was kinda lost and found myself drawn out to this place. It’s like something… some energy was telling me to search.

Shiro: For what?

Keith: Well, I didn’t know at the time… until I stumbled across this area. It’s an outcropping of giant boulders with caves covered in these ancient markings. Each tells a slightly different story about a blue lion, but they all share clues leading to some event, some arrival happening last night. Then, you showed up.

Shiro: I should thank you all for getting me out. Lance, right?

Pidge: The nervous guy’s Hunk. I’m Pidge. So, did anyone else from your crew make it out?

Shiro: I’m not sure. I remember the mission and being captured. After that, it’s just bits and pieces.

Hunk: Yeah, sorry to interrupt, but back to the aliens. Where are they now? Are they coming? Are they coming for all of us? Like, where are they at this very moment?

Shiro: I can’t really put it together. I remember the word “Voltron.” It’s some kind of weapon they’re looking for, but I don’t know why. Whatever it is, I think we need to find it before they do.

Hunk: Well, last night, I was rummaging through Pidge’s stuff, and I found this picture. Look, it’s his girlfriend.

Pidge: Hey, give me that! What were you doing in my stuff?

Hunk: I was looking for a candy bar. But, then, I started reading his diary--

Pidge: What?!

Hunk: --and I noticed that the repeating series of numbers the aliens are searching for looks a lot like a Fraunhofer line.

Keith: Frown who?

Hunk: It’s a number describing the emission spectrum of an element, only, this element doesn’t exist on EArth. I thought it might be this Voltron, and I think I can build a machine to look for it, kinda like a Voltron Geiger counter.

Lance: Hunk, you big gassy genius!

Hunk: It’s pretty fascinating, really. The wavelength looks like this.

Keith: Give me that.

[Scene change to the canyons leading to Blue Lion’s hiding place.]

Lance: Okay, I admit it. This is super freaky.

Hunk: I’m getting a reading. Whoa. Whoa.

Shiro: What are these?

Keith: These are the lion carvings I was telling you about. They’re everywhere around here.

Lance: Hmm. Whoa. Whoa!

All: What?

Keith: They’ve never done that before.

Lance: They are everywhere.

Pidge: Is this it? Is this the Voltron?

Shiro: It must be.

Keith: This is what’s been causing all of this crazy energy out here. Looks like there’s a forcefield around it.

Lance: Does anyone else get the feeling this is staring at them?

Shiro: No.

Lance: Yeah. The eyes are totally following me.

Keith: I wonder how we get through this.

Lance: Maybe you just have to knock. Whoa. Uh, did everyone just see that?

Hunk: Voltron is a robot. Voltron is a huge, huge awesome robot!

Pidge: And this thing is only one part of it! I wonder where the rest of them are.

Shiro: This is what they’re looking for.

Keith: Incredible.

Lance: Hmm. Mmm… hmm… Here we go. Uh? Huh.

Pidge: Whoa.

Hunk: Whoa.

Lance: Alright! Very nice!

Hunk: Okay, guys, I feel the need to point out, just so that we’re all, you know, aware. We are in some kind of futuristic alien cat head right now.

Lance: Whoa. Did you guys just hear that?

Keith: Hear what?

Lance: I think it’s talking to me. Hmm… Um… Okay, got it. Now, let’s try this.

Keith: You are the worst pilot ever!

Iverson: What in the Sam Hill is that?

Garrison Officer: It appears to be a flying blue lion, sir.

Lance: Isn’t this awesome?

Hunk: Make it stop. Make it stop.

Lance: I’m not making it do anything. It’s like it’s on autopilot.

Keith: Where are you going?!

Lance: I just said it’s on autopilot! It says there’s an alien ship approaching Earth. I think we’re supposed to stop it.

Pidge: What did it say, exactly?

Lance: Well, it’s not like it’s saying words. More like feeding ideas into my brain, kind of.

Hunk: Well, if this thing is the weapon they’re coming for, why don’t we just, I don’t know, give it to them? Maybe they’ll leave us alone. Sorry, lion, nothing personal.

Shiro: You don’t understand. These monsters spread like a plague throughout the galaxy, destroying everything in their path. There’s no bargaining with them. They won’t stop until everything’s dead.

Hunk: Oh. Never mind, then.

[Cut to space.]

Hunk: Uh… Holy crow! Is that really an alien ship?

Shiro: They found me.

Pidge: We’ve got to get it out of here!

Lance: Hang on! Alright, okay! I think I know what to do!

Pidge: Be careful, man. This isn’t a simulator.

Lance: Well, that’s good. I always wreck a simulator. Let’s try this.

Shiro: Nice job, Lance!

Lance: Okay, I think it’s time to get these guys away from our planet.

Unnamed Galra Commander: Lord Zarkon, the escaped prisoner and his people found the lion. It attacked us and is heading out of the system.

Zarkon: Follow that lion and alert all ships in the area to intercept. Capturing that lion is your first and only priority.

Unnamed Galra Commander: Yes, Your Majesty. Full power after the lion!

Hunk: Oh, no!

Pidge: They’re gaining on us!

Lance: It’s weird. They’re not trying to shoot us. They’re just chasing.

Hunk: Okay, seriously, now we think having aliens follow us is good? I am not on board with this new direction, guys.

Keith: Where are we?

Shiro: Edge of the solar system. There’s Kerberos.

Pidge: It takes months for our ships to get out this far. We got out here in five seconds.

Hunk: What is that?

Lance: Uh, this may seem crazy, but I think the lion wants us to go through there.

Pidge: Where does it go?

Lance: I-I don’t know. Shiro, you’re the senior officer here. What should we do?

Shiro: Whatever’s happening, the lion knows more than we do. I say we trust it, but we’re a team now. We should decide together.

Lance: Alright. Guess we’re all ditching class tomorrow.

Lance: Whoa. That was…

Hunk: So sorry.

Pidge: I’m just surprised it took this long.

Shiro: I don’t recognize any of these constellations. We must be a long, long way from Earth.

Lance: The lion seems to want to go to this planet. I think… I think it’s going home.

Lance: Guys, personal space. Hunk, your breath is killing me.

Hunk: Um, is it just me or is anyone else having second thoughts about flying through a mysterious wormhole? Why are we listening to a robotic lion anyway?

Lance: Got us away from that alien warship, didn’t it?

Keith: I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re in an alien warship.

Lance: Oh, are you scared?

Keith: With you at the helm? Terrified.

Shiro: Alright, knock it off. No one’s happy to be in this situation, but we’re here now. If we want to get through this, we’ve got to do it together.

Pidge: So, what do we do?

Shiro: First, we find out where we’re headed. Lance?

Lance: I don’t know. I’m sorry. The lion’s not talking to me anymore. Wait! Wait, wait wait! Shh! Listen. I think I hear something.

Keith: I’m hearing it, too.

Hunk: It’s uh--it’s kind of a--a high-pitched squeal?

All: [exclaim in disgust] Come on, Lance!

Lance: But seriously, there’s a castle up ahead.

All: Wow.

Shiro: Keep your guard up.

Pidge: Something wrong?

Shiro: My crew was captured by aliens once. I’m not gonna let it happen again.

Hunk: Oh, no! No! I knew it was going to eat us! No! Oh, the door is open. Guess I was wrong about you.

Hunk: Hello?

Pidge: From the size of the lion, I expected these steps to be bigger.

Computer: Hold for identity scan.

Pidge: What?

Shiro: Why are we here? What do you want with us?

Lance: Whoa!

Pidge: Whoa. I guess we’re going that way.

Hunk: Hello? Hello? Hello?

Lance: Where are we?

Pidge: It’s some kind of control room.

Hunk: Are these guys… dead?

Allura: Father!

Lance: Woah! Hello.

Allura: Who are you? Where am I?

Lance: My name’s Lance, and you’re right here in my arms.

Allura: Your ears…

Lance: Yeah?

Allura: They’re hideous. What’s wrong with them?

Lance: Nothing’s wrong with them! They heard exactly what you said about them!

Allura: Who are you? Where is King Alfor? What are you doing in my castle?

Lance: A giant blue lion brought us here. That’s all we know!

Allura: How do you have the Blue Lion? What happened to its paladin? What are you all doing here? Unless… How long has it been?

Shiro: We don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you tell us who you are? Maybe we can help.

Allura: I am Princess Allura of Planet Altea. I’ve got to find out where we are and how long we’ve been asleep.

Pidge: Okay, that’s how that works.

Coran: Enemy combatants! Quiznak! You’re lucky I have a case of the ol’ “sleep chamber knees”. Otherwise I’d grab your head like this, wrap you up like so, one, two, three! Sleepytime!

Lance: Well, before you did that I’d--[grunts repeatedly] like that.

Coran: Oh, really? Well how could you do that when I’ve already come at you with this? Ha, ha, ha, hey!

Hunk: Man, these guys are good.

Allura: It can’t be.

Coran: What is it?

Allura: We’ve been asleep for ten thousand years.

[Transition to a flashback, ten thousand years ago.]

Alfor: Zarkon.

Zarkon: Your fleet has been destroyed, Alfor. I will be there shortly to claim Voltron.

Allura: Father, we must form Voltron and fight before it’s too late!

Alfor: It’s already too late. We must send the lions away. We can’t risk them falling into Zarkon’s hands.

Allura: We can’t give up hope!

Alfor: I’m sorry, daughter. If all goes well, I will see you again soon.

Allura: Father…

Alfor: I love you.

[Transition back to the present.]

Allura: Planet Altea and all of the planets in our solar system have been destroyed. Coran, Father is gone. Our entire civilization… Zarkon.

Shiro: Zarkon?

Allura: He was the king of the Galra. A vile creature and enemy to all free people.

Shiro: I remember now… I was his prisoner.

Allura: He’s still alive? Impossible!

Shiro: I can’t explain it, but it’s true. He’s searching for a super-weapon called Voltron.

Allura: He’s searching for it because he knows it’s the only thing that can defeat him, and that’s exactly why we must find it before he does.

[Cut to an unspecified location full of floating purple crystals.]

Haggar: Ah…

[Cut to an unspecified location on Zarkon’s command ship.]

Haggar: The Blue Lion has returned, and now I feel a resurgence of Altean energy.

Zarkon: Alfor’s daughter lives? How?

Haggar: I know not, but it is time to reclaim what is rightfully ours.

Zarkon: Yes. I shall wipe that foul race from the universe forever and take back Voltron. Contact my commanders.

[Cut to a Galra cruiser in deep space.]

Male voice: Emperor Zarkon requests an audience.

Zarkon: Commander Sendak, the Princess of Altea is alive and hiding in your sector. We believe she alone holds the whereabouts of the remaining lions. Your battle fleet is the closest to her location. Retrieve her and the lions. With them all, the Galra Empire will be unstoppable.

Sendak: I fight for the empire. I conquer in the name of Galra. No foe has ever stood in my way and none ever will. Vrepit Sa! Set a course for Arus.

[Cut to the Castle of Lions.]

Coran: Princess, you must eat. It’s been ten thousand years.

Allura: I’m not hungry.

Lance: Man, ten thousand years? That's like one thousand plus ten.

Keith: That’s times ten.

Lance: Whatever, dropout.

Hunk: I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving.

Pidge: Yeah, but you’ve thrown up, like, five times.

Shiro: I can’t believe your civilization created such advanced technology ten thousand years ago. It must have been an incredible place.

Coran: Yes, it was… but now it is gone and we’re the last Alteans alive.

Allura: Looks like we’re not the last, after all.

Coran: A Galra battleship has set its tracker to us!

Allura: How did they find us?

Lance: I’m not sure, but I bet it’s Keith’s fault.

Keith: Say whatever you’ve gotta say to make yourself feel better. After getting us stuck on the other side of a wormhole!

Lance: I’ll stick you in a wormhole!

Shiro: Stow it, cadets! This is no time to place blame, it’s time to work as a team. How long before they arrive?

Coran: At their speed? Oh, well, uh, carry the two… I’d say probably a couple of days.

Allura: Good. Let them come. By the time they get here, you five will have reformed Voltron, and together, we will destroy Zarkon’s empire.

Hunk: Sorry. Food goo.

Shiro: Princess, there are five of these lions. How are we going to find the rest?

[Transition to the bridge of the Castle of Lions.]

Coran: King Alfor connected the lions to Allura’s life force. She alone is the key to the lions’ whereabouts.

All: Whoa.

Pidge: These are coordinates. The Black Lion looks like it’s in the same location as the Blue Lion.

Coran: Look at your primitive synapses firing away in their little brain cage!

Allura: Very observant. That’s because the Black Lion is in the castle.

Coran: To keep the Black Lion out of Zarkon’s hands, King Alfor locked it in the castle. It can only be freed if the other four lions are present.

Allura: As you have found, the lions choose their pilots. It is a mystical bond and cannot be forced. The quintessence of the pilot is mirrored in his lion. Together, they form something greater than science can explain. The Black Lion is the decisive head of Voltron. It will take a pilot who is a born leader and in control at all times, someone whose men will follow without hesitation. That is why, Shiro, you will pilot the Black Lion. The Green Lion has an inquisitive personality and needs a pilot of intellect and daring. Pidge, you will pilot the Green Lion. The Blue Lion--

Lance: Whoa, hold up, let me guess. Takes the most handsome slash best pilot of the bunch?

Allura: The Yellow Lion is caring and kind. Its pilot is one who puts the needs of others above his own. His heart must be mighty. As the leg of Voltron, you will lift the team up and hold them together. The Red Lion is temperamental and the most difficult to master. It’s faster and more agile than the others, but also more unstable. Its pilot needs to be someone who relies more on instincts than skill alone. Keith, you will fly the Red Lion.

Lance: What? This guy?

Allura: Unfortunately, I cannot locate the Red Lion’s coordinates yet. There must be something wrong with the castle. After ten thousand years, it might need some work.

Coran: Don’t worry, we’ll find it soon. They don’t call me “The Coranic” for nothing. It’s because it sounds like “mechanic.” So… Coranic, mechanic. It’s not--it doesn’t sound… exactly like it. It’s similar.

Allura: Once all the lions are united, you will form Voltron, the most powerful warrior ever known, the Defender of the Universe.

Lance: Awesome.

Pidge: Oh…

Hunk: Wait. Okay, we’re going to be in there and flying lions. Got that part. How do lions turn into legs? Also, is this going to be a long trip? Because I have to pee. Do you people pee?

Shiro: We don’t have much time. Pidge and I will go after the Green Lion. Lance, you take Hunk and get the yellow one. Keith, you stay here. If you locate that Red Lion, go get it.

Allura: In the meantime, I’ll get this castle’s defenses ready. They’ll be sorely needed.

Coran: I’ll ready a pod and load the coordinates so that you can reach the Green Lion.

[Transition to the launch of the lion and the pod.]

Coran: We can only keep the wormholes that lead to the other lions open for two of your Earth hours, so you’ll have to be quick about your work. The good news is that according to my readings, both planets are relatively peaceful. So, if you do get stuck, they could be relaxing places to live out the rest of your lives. Enjoy the trip!

Lance: Wait! What? No!

Hunk: I did not receive the memo on this.

[Scene change to a lush green planet where Shiro and Pidge land.]

Pidge: Look! It’s just a… whatever that thing is. I… uh, I think he wants us to get in his canoe.

Shiro: Then, I guess we should go.

Pidge: Huh.

Shiro: I’ve been locked up by aliens for a year. This is nothing.

Pidge: I wonder if Hunk and Lance are having as good a time as us.

[Cut to a sandy planet, where Hunk and Lance are not having as good a time.]

Hunk: Oh, no! No, no, no! Oh! Oh, no! I thought Coran said these planets were peaceful!

Lance: Maybe “peaceful” means something else in Altean!

Hunk: According to the coordinates, we’re right on top of the Yellow Lion. It’s below there, where they’re mining for the ore. They don’t even know the lion is there. Or maybe they just got here and they’re digging for the lion? What do you think, Lance?

Lance: Who cares? Just go get it! I’m dropping you down there.

Hunk: Me? Down there? No. No, no, no.

Lance: Yes, I’ll cover you.

Hunk, You know, what if the Yellow Lion doesn’t work? W-What if--what if I can’t get in the mine? What if I start crying? It’s too late. I’m already crying!

Lance: Sorry, no time for questions.

Hunk: Oh, yeah, sure, just drop me off in an alien planet. That’s cool, man. It’s only occupied by mean purple aliens that want to kill me, but whatever. Just ignore them and go connect with a big, yellow, mechanical cat. Easy-peasy. Yeah. That all makes a ton of sense to me. Cool.

Hunk: Okay, I’m in a giant hole. Now what, Hunk? Huh? Whoa. Pretty. How am I gonna get through that? Hmm? Hmm...

[Cut to Blue Lion on the surface, then Hunk drilling through the rock, and back to Blue as Lance fights the Galra fighters.]

Lance: Oh, no! Hunk!

[Scene change to Shiro and Pidge on the river with the alien.]

Pidge: I know the princess said this is supposed to be my lion, but what if she’s wrong? I mean, she’s probably not wrong. She’s a princess, but I’m not a pilot, even though I’ve always wanted to be a pilot. I mean, I read all the fighter manuals, but never got to fly the simulator, but, hey, I can’t be all that worse than Lance. He crashed all the time, but what if I get in there and it doesn’t respond? What if I get in there and it’s too big and my feet don’t touch the pedals? What if there aren’t even pedals?

Shiro: You’re rambling. Listen, our commander on the Kerberos mission is the smartest man I ever met and he always said, “If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great.”

Shiro: Go. Be great.

Pidge: Woo-hoo-hoo!

[Cut to Blue Lion on the sandy planet.]

Lance: Hunk, come on! Please, buddy! Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Going down! We’re going down! Oh, no.

Hunk: You okay, Lance?

Lance: Hunk! I thought you were dead! You jumped in front of all those shots to save my life!

Hunk: Well, actually, I was trying to get out of the way. Thankfully, what this thing lacks in speed, it more than makes up for in armor. Man, can it take a beating! Ooh. We’ve got incoming!

Allura: Paladins, please hurry back. I can’t hold the wormhole much longer.

Lance: Let’s get out of here!

Hunk: Ugh, not this again.

Lance: Quit screwing around, Hunk! The wormhole is closing!

[Cut to the bridge of the Castle of Lions.]

Allura: You made it.

Lance: Yeah, just barely. That was a nightmare. I almost puked out there. I felt like Hunk!

Hunk: Think how I felt. I am Hunk.

Pidge: Yeah, we had a tough time, too.

Shiro: Did we find the Red Lion yet?

Coran: Allura just located it. There’s a bit of good news and bad news. The good news is the Red Lion is nearby. The bad news is it’s on-board the Galra ship now orbiting Arus. But wait, good news again. We’re Arus!

Shiro: They’re here already?

Coran: Yes. Guess my calculations were a bit off. Finger counting is--it’s more of an art than a science. Hmm?

Sendak: Princess Allura, this is Commander Sendak of the Galra Empire. I come on behalf of Emperor Zarkon, Lord of the Known Universe. I am here to confiscate the lions. Turn them over to me, or I will destroy your planet.

Shiro: Alright, let’s not panic.

Hunk: Not panic? The scary purple alien thing is driving his battleship toward us. We only have four lions.

Pidge: Technically, only three working lions.

Hunk: That’s right, thank you, Pidge. Three working lions a-and a castle that’s, like, ten thousand years old.

Coran: Actually, it’s ten thousand and six hundred years old. You see, it was built by my grandfather--

Hunk: Thanks, Coran. Thank you for that. See? Now is the perfect time to panic!

Allura: Wait! This castle has a particle barrier we can activate.

Lance: Girl, you’ve already activated my par--

Shiro: Lance!

Coran: The particle barrier won’t hold Sendak’s ion cannon forever. The Galra technology must have advanced since we fought them last.

Hunk: Panic now?

Shiro: No, we’ve just got to figure out our plan of action, and figure it out quickly.

Lance: I say we pop through a wormhole and live to fight another day.

Hunk: I second that, yes. I mean, we tried to find all the lions, right? We gave it the ol’ college try. Couldn’t do it. We only have three. We can’t form Voltron. I mean, I guess we could form a snake. Or a worm! To go through that hole, Lance, that you were talking about.

Lance: Then, it’s settled. Allura, you ride with me. One of you take the old guy.

Pidge: We can’t just abandon Arus. The Galra will keep destroying planets and capturing prisoners until we stop them.

Hunk: Okay. If we run, then maybe Sendak will follow us and leave this planet alone, like when we left Earth. We form the snake-worm thingamagjig and we--[hisses] out of here.

Keith: Sendak could destroy the planet, then come after us anyway. Staying is our only option.

Lance: Here's an option: shut your quiznak.

Keith: I don’t think you’re using that word correctly.

Lance: What do you know, Mullet?

Keith: We’re staying.

Lance: Leaving!

Pidge: Staying!

Hunk: Snake!

Shiro: Guys, stop! Princess Allura, these are your lions. You’ve dealt with the Galra Empire before. You know what we’re facing better than any of us. What do you think is the best course of action?

Allura: I… I don’t know.

Coran: Perhaps your father can help.

Allura: My father?

[Transition to the computer room that hosts Alfor’s AI.]

Allura: Coran, what is this?

Coran: King Alfor knew that there was a chance he might never see you again. So his memories, his very being, were stored in this computer for you.

Allura: Father! Father, it is so good to see you.

Alfor: Allura, my only child, how I’ve missed your face.

Allura: I’m so frightened. A Galra ship is set to attack, and I don’t know what to do. Please, Father, I need your help.

Alfor: I would do anything to take this burden from you.

Allura: I don’t know if we should run to preserve what we have or stay and risk everything. I want to fight, but the paladins of old are gone. I know what you would do.

Alfor: I scattered the Lions of Voltron to keep them out of Zarkon’s hands. You urged me to keep them and fight, but, for the greater good of protecting the universe, I chose to hide them.

Allura: I think I understand.

Alfor: No, daughter, you were right. I made a terrible mistake, one that cost the universe countless lives. Forming Voltron is the only way to stop Zarkon. You must be willing to sacrifice everything to assemble the lions and correct my error.

[Scene change to Allura entering the bridge once more, looking determined in her flight suit.]

Allura: You five paladins were brought here for a reason. The Voltron Lions are meant to be piloted by you and you alone. We must fight, and keep fighting until we defeat Zarkon. It is our destiny. Voltron is the universe’s only hope. We are the universe’s only hope.

Shiro: We’re with you, Princess.

[Cut to the armory of the castle.]

Allura: Your suits of armor.

Lance: Cool!

Shiro: Outstanding.

Keith: Nice.

Pidge: Oh, neat!

Hunk: Hmm…

Coran: Princess, are you sure about this? They aren’t exactly the best and brightest the universe has to offer.

Allura: No, but they’re all we’ve got.

Shiro: Boys, it’s time to suit up!

Allura: The bayard is the traditional weapon of the Paladins of Voltron. It takes a distinct shape for each paladin.

Lance: Whoo! Aw, you got a cute little bayard.

Pidge: Yeah, it is pretty cute.

Allura: Shiro, I’m afraid your bayard was lost with its paladin.

Shiro: I guess I’ll just have to make do.

[Cut to the bridge.]

Allura: You’ll need to retrieve the Red Lion from Sendak’s ship.

Keith: That’s a pretty big ship. How are we gonna know where the Red Lion is?

Pidge: Well, it’s not a matter of “we.” It’s a matter of “you.”

Hunk: Pidge is right. Once we get you in, you’ll be able to feel its presence and, like, track it down.

Lance: Yeah. You know how you felt that crazy energy while we were in the desert?

Keith: Yeah. You made fun of me for that.

Lance: And I’m proud of that, but turns out it’s exactly like that mumbo-jumbo.

Allura: Keith, the Red Lion is extremely temperamental. You’ll have to earn its respect.

Shiro: Alright. Here’s our plan of attack. The Galra Empire knows about the Blue and Yellow Lion, but they don’t know we have the Green Lion, too.

[Cut to outer space.]

Shiro: Hunk, Lance, you’ll act as a decoy by pretending to give yourselves up.

Lance: Attention, Galra ship. Do not fire. We’re surrendering our lions. Hope this works.

Shiro: While Sendak is distracted, Keith, Pidge, and I will sneak onto the ship in the Green Lion. Keith and I will find the Red Lion while Pidge guards our exit. Hunk, Lance, find some way to take down that ion cannon.

Lance: Pidge, what’s your ETA?

Pidge: We’re in.

Sendak: Activate tractor beam.

Hunk: What’s that thing?

Lance: I think that’s our signal to get out of here!

Sendak: They lied to us. Launch fighters!

Lance: Hunk, you dismantle the ion cannon while I take these jerks on a space ride.

Hunk: Ten-four!

[Cut to inside the Galra ship.]

Shiro: I’ve been here before. After I was taken by the Galra cruiser off Kerberos, they brought us here.

Pidge: So, that means your other crewmembers, they might be held captive here. We… We’ve gotta rescue them.

Shiro: Pidge, we don’t have time. We have to get the Red Lion and get back to Arus.

Pidge: But we can’t just leave prisoners here!

Shiro: Look, no one understands that more than me, but in war, we have to make hard choices. Now, let’s get moving.

Pidge: No! Commander Holt is my father. He and my brother were the ones on the Kerberos mission with you.

Shiro: Commander Holt is your father?

Pidge: Yes. I’ve been searching everywhere for him and my brother and I’m not going to give up looking when I’m this close. I won’t!

Shiro: I’m coming with you.

Keith: What?

Shiro: I remember where the prisoners are held. Keith, you go find the Red Lion.

Keith: By myself?

Shiro: Minor change of plans. You’ll be fine. Just remember, patience yields focus, so--run!

Keith: Great. Now which way?

[Cut to Yellow Lion flying outside the Galra ship.]

Hunk: What the quiznak? What is that? A forcefield?

[Cut to the castle on Arus.]

Allura: Particle barrier up!

Coran: Is that what’s supposed to happen? Oh, the barrier crystals are out of alignment.

Allura: We have to fix it immediately. Without the particle barrier, we’ll be defenseless.

Coran: We’re both too big. What can we do?

Allura: The mice!

Coran: How do they know how to do this?

Allura: I can hear them talking to me. I think our minds are connected. It must be from sharing the sleep pod for ten thousand years. Thank you, friends. Coran, what are you doing?

Coran: I’m trying to get them to make me a sandwich.

[Cut to Keith on the Galra ship.]

Keith: You’ve gotta be kidding me! Patience yields focus. Gotcha.

[Cut to Pidge and Shiro on the Galra ship.]

Shiro: That thing saw us. We should get out of here.

Pidge: Wait, I think this might come in handy. Now I’ll just reset the controls… and it’s working for us! I’m gonna call you Rover. Follow me! Open up.

Shiro: Excellent, Pidge.

Pidge: Dad?

Shiro: Don’t be afraid. We’re here to help you escape.

Prisoner: It’s you… It’s you, the Champion. If anyone can get us out of here, he can.

Shiro: Wh… what did you call me?

Pidge: We don’t have much time. Let’s get to the escape pods.

Shiro: Let’s go. Come on!

[Cut to Lance in Blue Lion.]

Lance: Whoa-ho-ho! Yeah, buddy! This is way more fun without Hunk’s barfing!

[Cut to Keith in a hangar where Red is floating inside a shield.]

Keith: Bingo. Let’s get out of here. Open up. It’s me. Keith. Your buddy. It’s me! Keith, your--I am your paladin! I’m bonding with you! Hey! Come on! We’re connected! You’re not getting this lion! Good kitty. Let’s roll.

[Cut to Shiro and Pidge by an escape pod with the prisoners.]

Pidge: Hurry!

Drone: Halt!

Pidge, distorted: Shiro, what’s wrong?

Prisoner: Thank you, Shiro.

Shiro: Wait! How do you…?

Pidge: Shiro, that was amazing! Where did you learn to fight with that?

Shiro: No idea.

[Cut to Yellow Lion.]

Hunk: Come on, just break, you stupid thing! Score one for Hunk! You guys made it!

Pidge: Kitty Rose has left the stage!

Lance: Let’s get the heck out of here!

Hunk: I hope I stopped that cannon. I could barely make a dent in it.

Haxus: They stole the Red Lion!

Sendak: After them! Either we get those lions or we blow this whole planet to cosmic dust! Fire the ion cannon.

Haxus: Sir, the ion cannon has been damaged.

Sendak: Then send the drones to fix it!

[Cut to the Black Lion’s hangar in the Castle of Lions, then to the bridge.]

Allura: Oh…

Coran: Oh, quiznak!

Allura: Sendak is entering the Arusian atmosphere. We need Voltron now!

[Cut to the bridge of Sendak’s ship.]

Haxus: The ion cannon is back online!

Sendak: Fire!

[Cut to Hunk inside Yellow Lion.]

Hunk: Man, those Galra guys repair things fast.

Coran: The barrier gets weaker with every blast. Once that shield goes down, the castle will be defenseless.

Allura: I can give you cover with the castle defenses for a while, but you have to form Voltron now or we’ll all be destroyed!

Hunk: Jeez, no pressure.

Shiro: Listen up, Team Voltron! The only way to succeed is to give it all you’ve got! This looks bad, but we can do this! Are you with me?

Hunk: I’m nodding. Is everyone else nodding?

Keith, Lance, Pidge: Yes.

Shiro: Let’s do this!

Lance: Uh, how?

Keith: Good question. Does anyone have any ideas of how to form Voltron?

Hunk: I don’t see a “combine into giant robot” button anywhere on my dashboard.

Pidge: This is insane! Can’t they just ceasefire for one minute so we can figure this out? Is that too much to ask?

Keith: We’ve gotta do something!

Hunk: Combine!

Keith: Hey!

Hunk: Okay, that didn’t work.

Allura: Quickly, Paladins! Our energy levels are getting low!

Shiro: Maybe if we fly in formation, we’ll just combine. Take off on my cue. One, two, three, Voltron!

Keith: Here we go!

Lance: Come on, come on!

Shiro: Nothing’s happening.

Lance: Hey, wait, wait, wait. I feel something!

Hunk: I do, too. I feel it. It’s like we’re all being pulled in the same direction!

Shiro: Uh, guys, I think I know why. Look up.

Lance: What the cheese?

Pidge: Sendak’s ship is sucking us in like a black hole!

[Cut to Sendak on the bridge of his ship.]

Sendak: Send a report to Emperor Zarkon: “The day is ours.”

[Cut to the castle, then to Shiro in Black.]

Shiro: Oh, no!

Hunk: I don’t care what you say, Shiro. I’m panicking now!

Pidge: It can’t end here!

Lance: This is it!

Keith: It’s been an honor flying with you boys.

Hunk: Oh, no!

Shiro: No! We can do this. We have to believe in ourselves. We can’t give up. We are the universe’s only hope. Everyone is relying on us. We can’t fail! We won’t fail! If we work together, we’ll win together!

All: Yeah!

[Cut to Sendak on his bridge.]

Sendak: Voltron!

[Cut to Voltron outside the Galra ship.]

Keith: I can’t believe it!

Pidge: We formed Voltron!

Hunk: I’m a leg!

Lance: How are we doing this?

Shiro: I don’t know, but let’s get that cannon!

[Scene change to outside the Castle of Lions at sunset, after their victory.]

Allura: Good work, Paladins!

Lance: Thanks, pretty lady.

Shiro: We did it.

Keith: Heck yeah, we did.

Shiro: How did we do it?

Hunk: I was just, like, screaming the whole time. Maybe that did it.

Shiro: We’re not gonna stop searching until we find your brother and father. Wherever they are, I know they’d be proud of you.

Allura: We won the battle, but the war has only just begun. I’m afraid Zarkon will not stop until he gets these lions.

Coran: Good thing you paladins know what you’re doing, because you’re going to have to form Voltron again and again.

Hunk: Totally. Wait, what?

Lance: We barely survived forming Voltron this one time.

Coran: And you only had to fight one ship. Wait until you have to fight a whole fleet of them! It’s not going to be easy being the Defenders of the Universe.

Shiro: Defenders of the Universe, huh? That’s got a nice ring to it.

End.

[exxar1]

Interlude 1: Lessons From The Old Testament

3/27/2021

             It is a lovely Saturday afternoon in Las Vegas. And I mean genuinely beautiful spring weather! It’s 73 degrees outside with a perfectly pleasant breeze that would be great accompaniment for a hike in Red Rock canyon. Alas, I must report for work in an hour.

           In following my plan to read the whole Bible in a year, I’ve been working through the books of Samuel and Kings for the last 2 weeks. This morning I wrote down some of the lessons I’ve gleaned from the Old Testament in general, but these 4 books in particular.

1.     Am I listening for God’s voice? 1 Samuel 3:10: “…Speak; for thy servant heareth.” No, God doesn’t use an audible voice today as He did with Samuel, but that’s because we now have his Holy Word in the form the Bible. We also have the Holy Spirit if we are truly born again. I need to make sure that I’m always listening for the Spirit and seeking God’s wisdom in all things. I should never be so busy with daily life, nor should the noise of the world be so loud, that I don’t hear God when He speaks to me.

2.    God does not tolerate sin. Eli was a servant of the Lord, but he failed to rear his sons to also fear and obey God. Because of this, God took the lives of all three and gave the priesthood to Samuel. Same for the nations of Israel and Judah. Throughout the books of Samuel and Kings, God punished his chosen people over and over as they continually disobeyed his commandments and turned to idol worship. There were occasional respites, short periods where certain kings would obey and fear God; David and his son Solomon, for example. Unfortunately, those two – and two or three others in the succeeding generations – were the exception, not the rule.

Am I always obeying the Lord’s commandments? Am I living my life in complete service to Him? When I do sin, am I genuinely repentant? God will forgive me, His love and mercy are as vast as the universe He created. But He is also a jealous God, and He will punish me when I turn from Him, as a loving father will discipline his child when he strays. I should always be striving to please God and obey Him always in all things.

3.    There are consequences for sin. God’s divine patience with Israel and Judah finally reached an end in the latter half of the book of 2nd Kings. He delivered His people into the hands of their enemies, and both nations were exiled into Babylon. Chapter 17: 7-23 summarizes the sins of Israel and Judah and God’s punishment for their continual sin.

Even though God will always forgive me when I sin, He will not spare me the consequences of my sin. Therefore, I need to always be seeking Him first and be making good choices.

4.    God will reward obedience and faithfulness to Him. David was chosen as King of Israel because he had a heart that was always seeking God. Even in the worst times of his life, when he was on the run and hiding from Saul, David never lost his faith that God was always with him, and that He would take care of him. (Psalms 23 & 46.) God rewarded this faithfulness time and again throughout David’s life.

Same goes for Solomon. When God spoke to Solomon early in his life, Solomon requested not riches or long life but, instead, the wisdom to lead the nation of Israel. God rewarded Solomon’s request with not only wisdom but riches as well.

Now, it should also be noted that, even though David and Solomon always sought to please and obey God, they also sinned. Both men were polygamists, and David even committed murder to try to cover his sin of covetousness and adultery. But God used them anyway, and each still suffered the consequences of their sin. Which brings us to the final point:

5.    God always keeps his promises. The Israelites were never completely wiped from the face of the Earth. God had made a covenant with Abraham, and He had also promised His people salvation through the lineage of David. Therefore, while He allowed His people to suffer the consequences of their disobedience, He still protected them and kept His word to them.

God will do the same for me. No matter how many times I stray, I will never lose my salvation. God has promised me that He is preparing a place for me in Heaven, and He will keep that promise. But neither is that a license to go do whatever the hell I want. Refer back to lesson #3.

           What I also found most striking about these four books was the clear parallel of the nation of Israel/Judah at this time and the United States today. Over the past year, I have argued with strangers on Facebook who try to convince me that America is not now and never was a Christian nation. That belief utterly baffles me. The phrase “In God We Trust” is still stamped on all our coins. The Declaration of Independence uses the phrase “divine Creator”. Despite all the scrubbing and washing by today’s social justice warriors, it’s still a known fact that all our founding fathers believed in the basic religious principles taught in the scriptures. Those principles are scattered throughout the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and other documents such as the Federalist Papers. George Washington and his compatriots might not all have been born again Christians, and they were most certainly as flawed, failing and sinful as you and me. But they regarded the Bible as an essential guide to the basic facts of our flawed, failing, sinful human nature, and they crafted a carefully constructed form of government that was designed to enhance the best in all of us and, by the same effect, discourage the worst.

           Today, that government is in serious threat of being dismantled from the inside out. The founding fathers had not anticipated what Paul wrote to Timothy: “This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.” (2 Timothy 3:1-5)

           Today’s generation is all about the self. Just as Israel and Judah in the Old Testament continually turned away from God to worship false gods and idols, so we today have turned away from God to worship the idol of ‘self’. There is not a single news headline lately that doesn’t bear some form of the phrase “personal rights”, or “individual truth”, or “living as him/her/itself”. Everyone screams about their own “truth” and that their “rights and freedom of expression” are all that matters, especially when it comes to the homosexual and transgender movements. Everyone’s rights are more important than everyone else’s, and our nation has become a people who are “…lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God.” (And no, before you even say it, I am not referring to the COVID/mask/pandemic government mandates. That specific case is a whole ‘nother argument where, yes, personal rights and freedoms most definitely matter.)

           And, just as He did to Israel and Judah at the end of 2nd Kings, God’s divine patience is rapidly running out for America. God delivered Israel and Judah into the hands of their enemies, the Babylonians. His chosen people spent seventy years in exile as punishment for their wickedness and their disobedience. Something I didn’t know before reading the commentary in my MacArthur study Bible is that Israel never returned from that captivity. Several thousand Israelites had migrated to the kingdom of Judah prior to the Babylonian captivity, so that all twelve tribes were still intact seventy years later, but it was only the former kingdom of Judah that actually returned, whole and united as the ‘new’ nation of Israel, seventy years later.

           Think about that. God kept his promise to Abraham. The whole of His chosen people were not utterly wiped from the face of the earth, but the meager, reunited nation that returned from Babylonian captivity was nowhere near the size or power that it once was. God’s wrath was justified and vast.

           If you study world history, you will find that ANY nation that has ever put God first has ALWAYS prospered. Think of the Victorian era of 19th century Great Britain. Queen Victoria was – and still is – revered as one of England’s greatest monarchs, and it’s because she believed that her empire was blessed by God. The evidence is self-explanatory. At that time, England – and the United States – were considered by all the world as the greatest powers, and the best lands of equal opportunity by all those seeking a better life. Our founding fathers built this nation on the premise that God had created every man and woman – no matter his/her race or station in life – equal. That ALL of us were endowed by our Divine Creator with certain, inalienable rights. And that, as long as we continued to recognize the source of our blessing and our greatness as a nation, we would prosper.

           Sadly, that cannot be said of us today. We, as a nation, have fallen so far from God’s grace that I wonder what our exile will look like. Though I have not yet done a close reading and study of the book of Revelation, I am fairly certain that nowhere in that book is there a mention of any western nation such as ours. We are rapidly losing our reputation as a world super power, and I believe that America as we know it today will not exist by the time chapter one of Revelation begins. And, right now, it’s not hard to see why.

           John 1:4-5 says, “In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” (Emphasis mine.) America has become filled with great darkness. For me, personally, that is my only mission for the rest of my life. I will do what I can to be a light for Christ and the gospel as we get closer and closer to that first chapter of Revelation. God’s wrath is coming, and only those who have believed on His name and accepted Him as their Lord and savior will be spared His judgment.

           The only answer for today’s corrupt generation is the command from God found in Matthew 6:33, “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” For those who are still ignoring that command, Isaiah warns, “Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call ye upon Him while he is near: let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon.”

           Amen.

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 2)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1 Here. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Oh my god, guys, I am not going to lie, I am having so much fun writing this fic! I have missed having new stories to explore so much, and I am so eternally grateful for all of you who kept pushing me to do another Royal AU. I didn’t realize how much I was going to love doing this again until I started, and now I have so much I want to explore, and so much fluff and cuteness in my head I can’t wait to share with you all. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. Keep in mind, I know it’s been a slower burn so far, but I promise the pay off will be perfect. In the meantime, you’ll see where Killian is in this fic, and the people in his life who will become important characters to the rest of the story. Some are based on the show, some are added additions as you’ll see. For example, I always name Killian’s mom ‘Meera’ in my fics, I know it kind of sounds like Milah, but they’re not the same and I chose that name originally because of its meaning and because of a poem I read long ago – the sounds was coincidence. Anyway, that being said, I hope you will enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

“Well, mates, we’ve finally done it. Our twelve-month stint is complete and all our sorry asses are heading home. Never thought I’d see the day.”

The words from Will Scarlet hung between Killian and his friends where they sat in the cargo hold of a military aircraft flying over the last piece of the sea that separated them all from home. They had just finished their active deployment in a classified location, and it had been immersive and seemingly unending. With limited contact to the outside world, and a constant goal of getting their mission done, these officers and their subordinates had worked hard to serve their country and its citizens. It had been trying times, and the task at hand was hard, but this was what they trained for. The Montenarro elite naval force was as selective as it was distinguished, and every man and woman serving in it was considered a national hero. But Killian hated that term, and he hated it more than anything when it was used in conjunction with his other loathed title – prince.

“You nearly didn’t make it, Scar-boy. If you hadn’t had Hook watching your back, you’d be dead ten times over.”

Killian smirked at the bit of teasing from Robin. That nickname for Scarlet was classic and well earned, given how many near misses he’d had with a tragic, awful death. But the boy part was bestowed thanks to Scarlet’s enduring childishness. His old friend always brought a laugh, and he could sober up when things got serious, but he couldn’t apply that sense of military discipline or responsibility to the rest of his life. He was a man child: unruly and a bit manic, but now that they were coming home, Killian hoped Will might figure things out. Meanwhile, Killian’s nickname, Hook, had at one time been a huge resentment for him. He’d earned the moniker in a notorious fight off base years ago just upon entering the royal command. The man he laid out with a single punch was a right jack ass, who’d made a show of harassing women and spewing all kinds of ignorant crap the whole bloody night, but the headline of the moment was that the ‘rebel prince’ had struck again.  His superiors were furious, and he was punished accordingly, but it was his brother, the King, who had dealt the harshest blow.

“You set one more foot out of line and I will bring you back home. If you’re going to make a spectacle of yourself, you’ll damn well do it somewhere our mother doesn’t have to worry about your safety.”

That was enough to set Killian to rights, because despite the seemingly charmed nature of his life, home was synonymous with hardship and discomfort. Being royalty was a constant burden of saving face and proper manners. He loved his brother, his mother, and his Gran, but they fit into that world with ease and a natural charm he didn’t possess. They loved shaking hands and kissing babies, took great pride in parades and national addresses, and knew how to ‘operate society.’ Killian, on the other hand, couldn’t stand it. He never blended well, never trusted easy. He’d met one too many snakes in Montenarro’s royal court and he didn’t need any more lessons on the hidden intentions people carried. It would sound mad to the average person, but there was a similar sense of dread he shared on deployment and at home, and on the good days, when he and his men were all safe with a job well done, he was vastly happier in his profession than in his personal life at home. At least he felt like he was serving something, and participating in a duty that was bigger than hollow gestures and picture perfect moments.

“The most important thing is no one’s dead,” Tink murmured from her spot on the other side of the hold. She was damn right about that. “We made it through another tour and I, for one, am out of here.”

“Olive will be glad to have you home, love,” Graham stated, patting their friend on the arm a few times in a signal to her extra sacrifice made these long months.

The mention of Tink’s daughter made her smile and in any other person tears no doubt would have shown in their eyes at the mention of such a reunion, but not Tink. This woman might be the smallest of their platoon but she was the fiercest and honestly the smartest. She was also brave as could be and composed at every moment. He’d asked her once how she could manage that, given everything that they saw and went through. Every one of them had moments of grave impact, where the stress or straight out fear crept in and took root, but not Tink. Her response was simply stated though it seemed impossible to comprehend: 

‘When you have a reason to get home, a part of you that needs you, you don’t have the luxury of breaking down. Everything I have needs to go towards one thing – surviving. I have to get back for her and she matters more than everything else. No matter what I see here, she’s my beacon home.”

“The day I left, I promised her that this was my last tour,” Tink said, surprising everyone except for Killian with the revelation. She’d confided in him about her plan to leave their unit a few months back, and when the paperwork needed to get to higher ups to unenlist from front-line duty he helped her, knowing she was owed that after years of faithful service to the crown. “I didn’t want to mention it because I knew exactly what you’d all say.”

“You’re leaving us?” Will asked and the tone in his voice was like someone had kicked him in the gut. For someone so full of bluster, he caved in quick, and while Graham and Robin didn’t sound quite so stricken, they too were surprised.

“I took a land command. You’re looking at the royal navy’s newest pencil pusher,” she said with a huge grin. “Six years ago I’d have laughed in your face if you told me how happy that would make me.”

“But that was before,” Killian said, understanding her instinct to be with her daughter and the change she needed to make her family whole again.

“You always get it, Cap. But what about you – you think you’ve got another tour left in you?”

Ah shit. Here was the moment of truth. He couldn’t lie when faced with Tink’s question, but he had been denying the inevitable even to himself for so long. Every tour his brother told him this would be the last one, but every time he waivered when Killian returned and asked to leave once more. Killian had been serving for more than fifteen years now, a decorated Captain who had earned his own way and proven his merit. He knew he was well respected and highly capable, but that would stop meaning anything to Liam soon. No matter how good a Captain Killian was, his duty, as Liam saw it, was to be the prince and the second in line. He had obligations at home, and as loathed as that life was, Killian considered himself lucky. His family had given him the freedom of finding something more like normal all these years. Here, with his crew, he was normal. He wasn’t a monarch, but a man, part of a team even if he was a leader, and there was no bull shit muss or fuss. Now that would likely end, but despite wishing he could come back, Killian was grateful for what he’d been able to do and the friends he’d been able to meet.

“I serve at the pleasure of the King,” Killian hedged. “But I think it likely my assignments will be changing this go around.”

“What he means to say is he’ll be dodging the ladies at court and fending off those investment cats always vying for access to the royal purse,” Graham joked. Killian only shrugged, not able to contradict the man, as he was probably dead on.

“I’d take the desert twice over before I took that shit,” Will said, and for once, Killian had to agree with him, but it didn’t matter either way.

Soon enough the plane that was flying them back to base was prepared to land. Their descent was easy, but the feelings that Killian grappled with were not. There was relief of course when the doors opened and they were back on land. They’d been serving in dangerous places, running on borrowed time with too many close calls. Even the plain façade of their base near the capital couldn’t hide the beauty of Montenarro. Many people called this country too small to notice, but what it lacked for in size, it made up for in location. Nestled on the Mediterranean, with a range of coastlines and mountain range, this nation lived in a world that was warm and where the sun shone brightly and often. Today, the coast was clear and glorious, but the mountains weren’t far and the foot hills were lush this time of year. The greenery around them was a luxury compared to the barren wastelands they’d been encamped in, but beyond the walls of this military compound lay his real life. When he left this place, he stopped being Hook, or Cap, or even Killian. He had to be someone else, and the weight of that shifted the peace within him to something frenzied and on guard.

With a swift but genuine regard he bid all his brothers and sister in arms goodbye, and handed in his papers and his weapons with the higher-ups. By the time he made it outside, headed to his personal barracks where he needed to collect some personal items, a royal enclave was ready for him and their head of security, Jefferson, was already waiting.

“Your things have been gathered, Your Highness. We’re ready to ship out.”

“So help me Jefferson if you start that Highness crap already -,”

“Sorry, sir.”

Killian sighed at the lingering formality but it was a small improvement and it wasn’t actually Jefferson’s fault. If the man waivered from formal titles surely Liam would hear of it, and his elder brother was no fan of abandoning tradition. Why he’d even let Killian serve all these years was beyond him, but Killian expected Liam knew that without an outlet and a feeling of normalcy, Killian would have lost himself long ago.

The ride through the city’s center was long, but Killian barely took it in despite looking out his window. He’d seen this route a million times, and it might be lovely, but it was a signal of returning to a state he didn’t like. The only part of the drive he found favor in was seeing the people around them, and from all looks and appearance, the citizens of their small nation were happy and well. People were out and about, children were playing, families were gathered and enjoying the spring day. Everyone was partaking in this first sweet taste of summer and their worlds seemed calm and bright. As a ruler that was the only thing a King could wish for, and Killian felt that call too even as Prince. Their roles meant nothing if the people were not served – but under Liam’s watchful and ever attentive eye, it made sense that they would be happy. They were surely headed towards another prosperous year, and, as Killian had always known, the nation had never been in better, more capable hands.

By the time they reached the city’s far edge and the golden gates of his family’s castle rose before them, Killian was at war with himself. On the one hand he was edgy from what was yet to come, but he was also glad to be back, to see his mother and grandmother, and even his brother. At the end of the day he loved his family, he knew that they worried for him every day he’d been away, and he’d be glad that coming home could bring them comfort. He mindfully made the choice to choose their happiness over his own for the time being, and as he exited the limousine, he schooled his features in a smile which widened at the sight of who was waiting at the door.

“Oh, my little Killy. You’re home at last.”

To the rest of the world, his grandmother was the dowager Queen and a force to be reckoned with. She was a high society lady, the former ruler of this nation, and a fierce advocate for the throne, but to Killian she was just his Gran, a charming, insightful, sometimes crafty older woman with too much love in her heart to ever perish. She was pushing 90 years old but here she was, the first to greet him and moving about like she was thirty years younger. She came straight to Killian, ignoring his polite bow and instead pulling him in for a warm embrace. How a woman so tiny could still possess such strength, he’d never know, but he had a fleeting though that she and Tink would get along before his grandmother pulled back with a mist of tears in her eyes.

“Did you miss me that much, Gran?” he teased, fending off his own wayward emotion at being reunited with one of his favorite people. “I thought I was just a load of trouble wrapped up in a charming giftwrap.”

“Oh hush. I said that to you one time – one time! And you never let me forget it. I mean truly, my dear, what was I supposed to say? You got into your cousin Sienna’s wedding cake and ate damn near half on your own before the reception could even start. Chef nearly perished at the sight of it.”

“I was a kid, Gran.”

“You were old enough to know better. But you could see what a menace that foolish Count was, no doubt. Can’t say I blame you for your actions now, given everything.”

Everything in this case was a huge scandal strewn across the tabloids. Sienna, who was actually quite a distant cousin, but still of royal lineage, was a rather stand-offish woman who had married more for status than for love. Unfortunately that status was tarnished less than ten years later when her now ex-husband was revealed as a philanderer and not a cautious one. It was a mess of paparazzi fodder, but to Killian it wasn’t all that bad, not after what they’d gone through with his father.

“Honestly I just wanted cake,” Killian admitted, shaking off thoughts of the man who’d wronged them long ago and his Gran grinned, none the wiser.

“Well there will be plenty of it now that you’re home. Your mother has planned a whole host of events, and before you get all stodgy and upset, you remember what every day has been like since you were last home. Poor Meera’s been fussing with that rosary damn near twenty times a day.”

Killian felt a pang of guilt hearing that, but his grandmother ignored his stricken look, pulling him inside. Immediately in the entryway he found his mother and Liam and the rest of the household staff set to greet them. He saw the joy in his mother’s eyes, and a clear sense of relief in Liam’s and he knew, even without words or actions, that he was truly missed and very much loved. Still he glanced back at his Gran, quirking up a brow to silently ask her why she wasn’t part of the precession.

“When you get to be my age, my dear, the formalities start to seem rather pointless. I wasn’t waiting an extra second to see my grandson, and your brother has the good sense to let me be.”

“Anyone who lacked that sense risks a fate worse than death, I’m sure,” Liam said dryly, but he spared a smile for their Gran all the same and allowed the old woman to swat at his arm like he was a pesky fly instead of the reigning monarch. “It’s good to see you home, brother.”

“It’s good to be with you all again,” Killian said, choosing his words carefully. He was not interested in lying to his family. They had enough to grapple with from the world around them, the least they owed each other was transparency. His mother certainly seemed to agree, and the tears she’d no doubt held in for months streamed down her still lovely face as she pulled him in close and hugged him far tighter than a royal mother should. Here was his mother in truth, not the part she played in public spaces, and despite their appearance in front of the staff, she doted on him like any good Mum should.

“You’re okay, darling? No bad scrapes this time?” Her tone grew warbly and Killian again felt the tug of guilt for what he put his family through in doing what he loved. He couldn’t regret his choice to serve and stake his own path, but he knew what a toll it took on his mother, and that was regrettable. On one of his first deployments he’d been injured pretty badly and he bore the scars along his back and side to prove it, but nothing vital had been hit, thank god, and as soon as he was healed he’d been ready to go out again. It almost broke his mother, but she was a strong woman, stronger than any he had ever known.

“A few nicks, Mum. Nothing serious.”

“Oh thank God. And now you’re home for good at last.”

Killian looked to Liam for confirmation and his brother shook his head. “Let’s not go there yet.” Liam pulled him in for a hug of his own, one of a special design they’d shared since he was but a boy and again Killian felt the true affection of his brother. They may be men of very different stripes, but Liam was a part of him and who he was. He was his elder brother and the closest thing Killian had to a father figure. His love meant the world to him, and so too did his approval.

“So, Gran mentioned some festivities. Have I time before the circus, or will it descend immediately?”

“Circus?” His mother asked, clearly confused before looking at her mother-in-law with amusement. “I think your grandmother is up to her old tricks. We don’t have anything planned. It’s just us and your favorite dinner. Just how you like it.”

Thank God for that, Killian thought to himself before turning to his grandmother who looked like a spoiled tyke at Christmas. She was so pleased with her little fake-out, she actually clasped her hands together.

“The Americans call it ‘punking’ someone. Such a garish word, but it does have its merits.”

“Still no hobbies to be found, Gran?” Killian asked, knowing that his grandmother was a busy body, and she needed a lot of occupation or she risked being… well, like this.

“Who needs the bloody things?” Gran said, swearing so brashly it made Killian choke on his drink and his mother gasp. “I do what is needed. You needed a good joke upon arriving home so I did what I could to provide one.”

“Gran’s taken to jokes of late,” Liam explained and Killian suddenly wanted very much to know what the old bird had been up to. From his brother’s expression, she’d gotten him good, and Killian would pay to see that.

“I tried to get it on tape, but that blasted Jefferson took my phone spouting all sorts of nonsense about royal protocol,” his Gran said, reading his mind. “But regardless, your dear brother knows perfectly well that I have plenty of occupation with the foundation. So much work that needs doing there. It must be constantly tended to, just like your mother’s roses.”

“I don’t remember it being so much,” Killian remarked, not even really remembering that the family had a foundation at all. It was more an endowment, a way to give the vastness of their wealth to worthy causes. But writing checks surely couldn’t take such effort.

“Well I’ve had to change it, haven’t I? If I was going to build something worthy of your attention, it had to do real good. It’s much more hands on now, you see. I might be in my twilight years, but I can still get my hands dirty.”

And there it was. He was wondering what the plan would be. He assumed he’d be added to Liam’s counsels and propped up as a family focal piece, the returning hero back home at last. But even without fully understanding the intention, Killian could see an earnest excitement in his grandmother’s eyes. Whatever the foundation had become, she was trying to build something for him, and if he could have a purpose beyond the face of a royal family, he’d be eternally grateful.

“So I really am home for good then?” Killian asked, broaching the uncomfortable topic once more as Liam considered him from the other end of the table. After a beat of quiet, Liam replied.

“I’ve spoken with our heads of command. The conflicts we’re involved in are winding down and while the Americans continue their crusade in the Middle East, our time of service there is drawing to a close. We’re shifting back to more diplomatic measures, and what’s left to fight can be handled by your fellow soldiers I think.”

“The country is in good hands,” Killian agreed and though it hurt to think that he was truly finished with his service, he was prepared for such an outcome. Liam would not demand that Killian leave. He was never so authoritarian, but this suggestion spoke volumes and Killian, much as he might be tempted, would not go against his brothers wishes.

“If they’ve been trained by you then it certainly is,” his mother agreed fiercely and Killian laughed. Her statement was not at all based in first-hand knowledge. She had never seen him in the field, rarely even seen him in his military context at all, but she still staunchly believed in him. It was appreciated, but comical all the same.

“And the foundation? What exactly is it doing these days?”

“Well by god, what aren’t we doing? There’s so much to do you see. We’ve been funding all sorts of new energies so we can be ‘green and clean,’” His Gran chirped happily. “We’ve expanded our species protection efforts with the ministry of parks and wildlife. I went on a whale watch with the Duchess of Mandrey. It was just marvelous. We wore, oh what, do they call them…? Oh right, ponchos! We’re working with the ministry of health to create community gardens not just to teach the children but to feed the people. You should see what we’ve done in the cities, Killy. We’ve built these centers with the soil and the supplies. The little ones love it -,”

“Clearly there’s quite a few balls in the air as it were,” Killian’s mother said, gently interrupting his grandmother’s exuberant storytelling. “But we were thinking, I mean if it works for you, that whenever you’re settled back in you might look at one particular part of the organization. Get a more hands on feel for something and truly learn the workings of the charity.”

“Did you have an idea of which one?”

“The Montenarro Children’s Sanctuary,” his Gran replied with total assuredness, and to his amazement, she produced a pamphlet (would wonders ever cease?) from somewhere under the table to hand to him. “Got that from the front desk last week. It’s all in there, dear, and the children are just precious. You’ve always loved the little ones, so it’s a perfect fit.”

“Have I?” Killian asked, not sure if he’d ever shown that predisposition. He always liked interacting with the children in the extended family when they came for holidays and events, but that was hardly a background in working with kids.

“Of course you have. You have such a way with them, and these children, well my dear, they just need someone like you so much. It’s a wonderful opportunity to make a difference.”

Killian knew she must be right, and he felt, despite his hesitations and the urge to reject someone else planning out his life, that this may indeed be a good fit for him for now. He never would have chosen such a charity first, thinking himself a bit understudied in the ways of children, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to give it a try, and his family was right, he needed something to do, something that actually felt like it mattered. After living for years with a purpose he couldn’t waste his time doing things he felt were frivolous. If he did he might go mad.

“I’ll go on one condition,” Killian said and they all considered him, clearly surprised he would accept at all and that he was handling his military retirement so well. “No one at that organization is calling me Prince Killian, Your Highness or any of that. I’ll go by Killian. That’s it.”

“But dear that’s -,”

“Before you say it’s not possible, Mum, just think for a minute about the work they do there and the kids in that scenario. This is a home for orphans and children who can’t be cared for in traditional means. They don’t have present families, they don’t have anything to call their own. They might know I am prince, but I don’t want them to feel the difference between us. You want me to help somehow? I don’t know how to truly help people when we’re separate or unequal. I never mastered that. It’s not how I work.”

“It’s just a title, Killy,” his Gran said sadly but he was holding firm. He wanted this for the kids and for himself. He’d dedicate himself to helping in this way, but he wanted at least a feeling of something normal, something that was his and not the crown’s. He looked to Liam, awaiting his brother’s verdict, and after a brief consideration his brother nodded.

“It seems reasonable enough. But only at the foundation. To the rest of the world you are, and always will be, Prince.”

“Fair enough,” Killian agreed. “Now, any chance we’ve got some cake?”

At the joke, everyone laughed, but low and behold there was cake to be had. And though his life was shifting radically, and he might not be on the most solid of ground right now, Killian felt hopeful that things might just work out in the end. Soon enough he’d be a part of something again, and he hoped quite sincerely to make a difference and make a change for the people he served, and in truth, for himself as well.

…………………..

Hours after their meal, and long after her son had headed up to his wing of the palace, Queen Meera looked out her large antique window to the full moon out tonight. She thanked the heavens that her son was back home safe. After so many years of fighting, and being in the thick of too many international skirmishes, he was finally back and all in one piece. Every night she’d prayed for his safety and for his health. She prayed he would be protected and smart out there doing God knows what. But she also prayed that he would feel peace, when she knew peace was a luxury for her youngest boy he wasn’t usually graced with. Recently she’d added a few more prayers as well, ones that would keep him open to the changes coming in all of their lives.  She was grateful at dinner that he was receptive to the prospect put before him of working for the family foundation. So far the plan was working, and she sent up another prayer that the rest would fall into place too.

Perhaps it would be strange to some that she was doing this, trying to craft a future for her beloved son when he was a fully-grown man, but she knew down in her soul that Killian needed the guidance. He was a good man, a strong man, a man bound by honor and compassion, but her son was always closed off, especially when it came to matters of the heart. There were many reasons for that, a few near-misses in love, and all the attention that their family brought forward, but the real reason underneath it all stemmed from the sins of his father, a man Meera once felt love for, who blessed her with two children and promptly threw the life they built together all away.

Prince Brennan had always been notorious. A party boy, a man of mischief. He never met trouble he didn’t like the look of, but his people and his family still believed him to be fundamentally good if a bit lacking in maturity. He was set to inherit the throne as the only child of the King and Queen, and through a twist of fate Meera and him had met and fallen in love. Meera was a common girl, with no connections, and no wealth to speak of, but it hadn’t mattered to Brennan. In fact, in hindsight, he probably wanted her even more because of it. They stole away as many moments as they could, and then one day he told her they were getting married. He never asked, he just informed her, and she went along with it, knowing she loved him even if she was scared of trying to be part of his world. She thought he’d bring her home to meet his family, thought he’d seek their approval, but Brennan had a mind of his own, and that night they eloped.

Only when they were legally man and wife did he bring her home and the fall out had been immense. His father, King Rupert, was furious, but the ire never was directed at her. It was Brennan who the King and Queen were mad at, and Meera couldn’t understand why. If King Rupert and Queen Eleanor truly liked her, why be so angry? Why chastise him as they did? Only a year later, after the birth of her eldest son, Liam, did she realize why; Brennan was flighty and irresponsible. He couldn’t commit to things, he never devoted himself to anything forever. He was bad at making decisions, at paying attention, and he had a total disregard for his impending role as ruler of Montenarro. If someone even hinted at his impending responsibility to the people of this country he went running as fast and as far as he could. Still Meera believed he loved her and that even if he couldn’t give all of himself to his duty, he could be there for her and their children. After trying for seven more years to give Liam some siblings, they were blessed to have Killian, and only after her second son’s birth did the truth fully come into focus. Marriage hadn’t actually meant to Brennan what it meant to her. In her eyes, they were meant to be partners, meant to love each other, and honor each other, but he couldn’t do it. He grew resentful and unruly, and ultimately, unfaithful.

It was an awful time, to be sure, and for Killian, it ended up being all he knew of his father. She kept everything she could from both of her sons, but somehow things always got out. The media had a field day at each and every instance, and then, when it got so bad and so brutal, Meera decided she must go. She and her sons could stay here no longer. Not with Brennan here. Shockingly, when she told Eleanor and Rupert of her plans they told her it was not her place to leave. It was Brennan who must make a choice – shape up and make amends to his wife and to his family, or leave, forsaking his thrown, his power, and all inheritance as he did. Brennan knew in an instant what he wanted, and so he left, but not before Killian and Liam heard him yelling and carrying on. At only six years of age Killian watched his father leave them all, with nothing like regret, and then, a few days later they found that Brennan had died in an accident, the product of reckless choices finally catching up with him.

Explaining to her sons how their father’s actions had no influence on who they were was so hard. Liam seemed to know this, but he channeled his pain into being the perfect heir. He put so much pressure on himself to be a wonderful king and a wonderful son. She worried about that and she was trying every day to help manage that as best she could. But Killian was far more sensitive. He was sweet and thoughtful and bold all at once. He had the biggest heart and he wanted so badly to wear it on his sleeve. But he didn’t. He closed himself off, and then he’d gone into the royal navy and Meera was devastated. She was always worried sick for her son, but what could she say? She saw in him a burst of that vitality and that light in his eyes when he was away. Even in the midst of chaos, Killian was at peace. Why? Because he could be himself. He’d found a place he felt safe, in some of the most unsafe places around the world. Now, though, he was coming back and this was not a place he felt that freedom. With them of course he had trust, but with everyone else she knew his walls would come right back up, steadfast as ever and impenetrable to most.

That was why she was doing this. She wanted a chance to open Killian up to more, to prompt her son towards something he deserved but had always run from: love. She knew he’d be hesitant, and only the perfect kind of woman could bring him to a place where he could be himself, so she’d been looking. It was practically her job to meet people all the time, to come into contact with royals and commoners alike, but she never had much hope. No one felt right, no one seemed perfect until a few weeks ago. Eleanor had returned from one of her outings with the foundation, from the children’s sanctuary, and slapped down a folder with a simple statement.

“I found the girl. Killian’s sweetheart. I know she’s the one.”

Meera was so excited, and she opened the folder without second thought. Sure enough the woman in the file was beautiful, and surprising. She was an American and pretty as could be, clearly smart as she was here on a fellowship grant from the local University. And she had a son. There were all sorts of details about how the school had made arrangements for them because she was such a promising fellow. She was gifted with children and had her own experience with being an orphan as well. Meera planned to go the next day with Eleanor to see for herself, but Eleanor said she wasn’t there. When Meera realized Eleanor never even seen the girl she was horrified. It was one thing to be looking for potential suitors for her son, but people they’d never even met? That seemed like a bridge too far.

“She’ll be here in two weeks. The Sanctuary director couldn’t stop talking about how excited they were for this year’s candidate and one thing lead to another… but that’s the way these things go sometimes.”

It was not the way things usually went, and Meera knew that, but she had never regretted following Eleanor’s instincts before. If her mother-in-law believed in this, then she felt that she should too. And besides, their goal here was a good one – all they wanted was two worthy people to fall in love, after all. What was really the harm in that? Meera just didn’t know, and that was the problem which had been keeping her up for more than a few nights now.

“You are worrying too much, Meera. It will all turn out exactly as it’s meant to,” Eleanor said, having walked into the room with such silence Meera never once detected her.

“You really think it’ll happen?” Meera asked, not even bothering to hide her anxiety.

“Think it’ll happen? My love, he’s as handsome as can be, a Captain of the navy, a hero of war, and has a heart of gold. Any woman worth her salt is going to take one look at him and fall straight in love. Meanwhile he’s going to take one look at this Swan girl and you know what he’s going to do? He’s going to see forever in an instant. His heart will beat for her, and love will stake a claim from the very first moment. Cupid will have quite a simple task of it, you mark my words.”

“You make it all sound so…”

“Romantic? Blissful?”

“I was going to say theatrical.”

“Love at first sight has long been slandered, but still it exists. People find it every day, and many times when they know, they just know.” 

“I just want him to be happy,” Meera admitted looking down at her hands. That was all she ever wanted as a mother, for her sons to be well and whole and good. 

“And he will be,” Eleanor said, grasping Meera’s hand in a sign of comfort. “He will be happy. He will find exactly what he’s missing. You just have to trust and believe, my dear. It’s all any of us can do.”

Meera nodded, deciding to believe that this would work, and to accept the older woman’s sage counsel, despite its fairytale influence. She wished that with this tiny little push in the right direction, her son would find his happiness with a woman of substance, and good will, and heart. From what they’d discovered, Meera truly believed such a love could be found with this one special woman, Emma Swan, and she only hoped that Killian and Emma were ready and willing to take a chance. But alas, nothing but time would tell, and now all they could do was wait and see…

Post-Note: So there we have it. It was a lot of background I know, about Killian and his family and his past. But I hope you’ll see a bit more of the world I’m building and that it will eventually add to the meeting CS will have coming in the next chapter. As for Killian’s meddling Mom and Gran… what can I say? I missed having some meddlers in my AUs. I have lots still left in store for this story, and as always I can’t wait to see what you guys think. Thanks again so much for reading, and I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day!

[didanawisgi]

Not to alarm you, but... whoa

This was sent to me in an email from MVT, a tactical training group I was planning on taking courses from in the future. This is how some of these guys feel, not to alarm anyone, I just wanted to show you how serious the situation is in America right now. What you are about to read is a mainstream view, as in millions and millions and millions of Americans feel this way but are largely silent at the moment. I don’t necessarily agree with everything he says, but I thought it would be worth sharing so you could feel the same sense of alarm I felt going through my emails... - REGIII, M.D., 32, RAM ‘Modern Alchemist’   

“BLUF: What you need to hear, but don’t want to.

Let’s keep things simple, shall we.

We are facing the end of the Republic. It is easily argued that it already expired, the point being that now we face a deep state coup, massive election fraud, huge corruption, an attempted Marxist takeover, and foreign control from China.

Democrats are traitors to the Republic. Republicans are not much better. The rule of law is dead: nothing that Trump has attempted to do has been done. He is surrounded by the deep state. The three letter agencies (of which so many of you are so afraid) have sold out to the dark side. They are part of the deep state.

Many of you are sold on the PSYOP that there is a plan in place. You may follow QAnon. “Trust the plan.” There is no plan. The attorneys who have attempted to fight the election fraud in court are fools. Why? Because they are working in an old system, where they had success with big lawsuits in court, and cannot get their heads around the massive corruption of the rule of law and the court system. They are working in an old system that no longer has merit. The supreme court is not doing its job. The Lawyers will not save you; you have to save yourself.

I would like to be wrong, and I would be happy to be so. But I don’t think so. Unless Trump pulls a plan out of his ass, Biden is getting sworn in on the 20th of January. The reprieve we had during the four years of the Trump Presidency will be over.

Most of America is sleeping. They expect that we will get over this. They expect a ‘return to normal.’ That is not going to happen. In 2021, it will all be over. The Republic will be finally dead. They hate you, and will be after you. That means your livelihood, your family, even your very lives. It always happens with a socialist administration. Even when you tell yourself that “it can’t happen here.” America is the prize, and it will happen here more than anywhere else.

Thus we face huge normalcy bias and denial. And this is the key, what I want to talk about here today.

I wrote a recent article called “Trust in Combat.” What I didn’t do was give you the answer to the problem. I will do so today, however much you don’t want to hear it.

The Trust in Combat article focused on the problems with forming groups, and training, and all the inherent issues about ego that will destroy a group, which is formed before the actual need for that group. Thus, we form groups now which are aimed at surviving hard times, but are operating now in easy times. Thus, ego will play and when it comes time, when you are actually in combat and the rounds are flying, it is likely to all fall down.

And that is the issue. We are either facing war, or perhaps we are not facing war at all, given the somnolence of the American population. We would tell ourselves that at some point, they must wake up. But will they? Or will they go to the camps like the citizens of the USSR? Will they tell themselves that “it will be resolved in the courts.” I really don’t know. I don’t have a crystal ball. I have no idea how this will play out.

I will tell you that there is no point waiting until the Marxist coup is consolidated, and strongly in place. Unless Trump is able to pull something out of the bag (a PSYOP story that will keep many of you hesitating) then what needs to happen is that We The People stand up. But we know that We The People will not do this. The ‘conservatives’ are either corrupt, or as seen with many of the ‘MAGA’ voters, are too focused on picking up litter and being polite, despite the assaults from Antifa. There comes a time to forget about the litter, and be rude as fuck. We are facing a civilizational assault on Liberty and the United States Constitution. And all we really care about is picking up litter, being polite, and trying to get by. There is absolutely no point in keeping arms, for resisting tyranny, if you have absolutely no intention of using them. All these quotes about blades of grass and the American Riflemen make me laugh; weapons will be banned and everyone will hand them in, because they were conditioned and told to do so (see how many are wearing masks?) Except, of course, for those who won’t; the problem being that they will be small groups and individuals.

So, however we get there, we will be at war. Whether the left comes for us, and however we resist, whether it be in small or large groups, we will be at war. This means that hardly anyone is trained, or physically fit enough; we will end up in combat as a total shit show. It’s going to be a total disaster and a lot of people will unnecessarily die. But that is just the way it is, because hardly anyone has the foresight to get fit, prepared and trained before such an event. We will be suddenly involved in some sort of Bosnian civil war scenario with absolutely no preparation and no forming of trusted, reliable, teams in advance.

So what is the solution? Individually we must do all we can to get fit, trained and equipped. We just know that we cannot form groups before the war, because of the way we are (‘Rugged Individuals’), and even groups that already exist are most likely flawed because they are not tested in combat (not fully trusted and tested in advance). The moment that the rounds start flying, is exactly the moment when all the unspoken issues of ego and trust start appearing, and before you know it, no one is doing what you trained to do (or not trained?) No one is moving. See my ‘Trust in Combat” article if you have not read it already.

What needs to happen is that, when people finally wake up and realize that they need to fight back, they need discipline and organization. People fight for a couple of things, and those can be summed up as 1) the group, and love of the group / not wanting to appear a coward in front of them and 2) discipline. This discipline can be found in the military with UCMJ, Uniform Code of Military Justice. The military is a legitimate organization where in small teams, the ‘alpha’ personalities are kept in check by a mixture of UCMJ (the hard check) and a general understanding that for the team to succeed, leaders must be supported. If leaders are generally supported, then people will do less dying (assuming competent leadership), and the team will be successful. None of this takes away from the wider discussion of leaders, for example, listening to helpful planning suggestions, not being a nightmare of a leader (effective leadership) and the rest; thus assuming relative competence from leadership, it is a good idea that the leader is supported in his role. Otherwise “we break down, the machine breaks down.”

How does this happen in civilian groups, either formed now or formed after hostilities begin? The leader must be able to rely on his team. He must be able to assume discipline and adherence to orders. When he expects someone to move, they must move. There must be a system of some form of oath, and some form of UCMJ. If people fail to do as ordered in combat, or are willfully disobedient, then they will face effective discipline.

And we know that this is not an acceptable plan for all of you “you are not the boss of me” types. ‘Rugged Individualists” (LOL), who will die as such.

When we talk about some of our favorite things, like the Revolutionary War or the Civil War, and we refer to the organizations of the day, we have to realize that these were either Armies or Militias. The Colonial Militia was an actual military force with leaders and discipline. Yes, I know that the Bosnia x Rwanda situation that we are likely to face is not the same war as they fought, but the point being that you cannot expect men to rise to combat without training and discipline. Without that they are just a mob, and will likely be as effective. And for those that don’t want to hear it, this is also not he same as a ‘militia muster’ with untrained and unfit people showing up to ‘muster’ in a field and then going home. Again, just another form of a mob.

Take it or leave it, I provide this to you as a solution. Given that it is likely to be rejected, all I can tell you is that you are best at home defending your family from the socialist hell that will be unleashed in 2021. That in itself is not an effective remedy, and allows us to be taken down one by one.

As for Trump, if he is going to act, he needs to act now. This situation will not be solved in the courts, it can only be solved by supra-legal action. By which I mean the insurrection act and whole lot of members of the coup going to jail / the firing squad. This has been termed “Crossing the Rubicon” but he must do so mindful of the best interest of the Constitution. Consolidate power, fix it, and step down. This would be truly in the spirit of a Roman ‘Dictator.’ But I don’t think he has it in him, and I don’t believe that he is really playing ‘4D chess.’ Prove me wrong. I would rather be wrong, than face the hell of a civil war, which many of us will not survive, victorious or not.”

Source: Originally posted here at the MVT blog: https://maxvelocitytactical.com/where-we-are/

[madlori]

Unveiled - Chapter 1

Unveiled, Chapter 1

by MadLori Word Count: 3300 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Read this on AO3

[there will not usually be this many notes, it’s chapter 1]

Biology note: This is mpreg but NOT omegaverse. All genders have both reproductive systems, meaning anybody of any gender can get anyone else pregnant. Men and women exist, but gender presentation is a result of how things are arranged/presented. I'm not super into getting into a ton of details about this. Handwave, handwave.

Note about language: I made the conscious choice not to render anyone's dialogue in a particular accent or dialect, as I felt that in this setting it would be a distraction. We're gonna go with "everyone in the story is fluent in whatever language you'd like them to be speaking."

Note to my existing readers: This is my first story in this fandom. If you have followed me here from Sherlock or another fandom, please take note of the tags - this is unlike anything I've ever written before. My first foray into mpreg or RPF. If those things don't work for you, that's fine, then this fic isn't for you. No need to inform me.

Thank you to burning-up-a-sun and luckie_dee for excellent beta services, and to ljummen and right-of-the-curve for reading and reacting as I banged this out in record time.

-------

Zhenya had hoped to sleep in on his last morning as a bachelor, but his eyes flew open just past dawn and would not close again. 

His wedding day. The culmination of several years’ work -- the selection of his consort-to-be, the negotiations, the contracts, the preparations...all of which he’d had minimal part in, because one simply didn’t arrange their own marriage, let alone their own embargoed marriage.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, going over and over it in his mind. Ceremony, blessing, consummation, and then...life as usual? Regular people had celebrations after their weddings. They gathered together with their friends and families, ate and drank, danced and celebrated along with the person they’d just married. Lots of photos, smiling faces, Instagram posts and hashtags.

For embargoed spouses, such celebrations were pointless. It was hard to rejoice with your new life partner when you weren’t allowed to see or speak to them, or even to know their name.

All that he knew about the consort was that he was from New Scotland, was Zhenya’s age, and of noble blood. It had been tempting to at least Google him, but poking around an embargo like that was inappropriate, not to mention insulting to the significant sacrifice being made by his new consort. This man had agreed to a restrictive situation to become Zhenya’s husband and bear his child -- the least Zhenya could do was respect his decision. Besides, the consort’s entire online presence would have been digitally embargoed by the palace tech team, which was really meant to shield him from the rest of the world’s snooping, but also served to thwart tempted spouses.

  Zhenya’s parents had asked for quite a bit of input about what sort of person he hoped for as a life partner. They had already known that he preferred a male spouse, and had accepted his one additional condition for a match, but beyond that, he trusted them. He’d known since childhood that his marriage would be arranged and had accepted it, was even grateful for it. It was difficult to meet people when you were a Prince. Zhenya had dated his fair share of men, but he was never sure about their motives -- was his money a factor? his status? his fame? -- and his dates were often put off by the press attention, not to mention the trappings of royalty. He thought his chances of finding happiness with a spouse selected by his parents were possibly better, and certainly no worse. Besides, he didn’t really have it in him to rebel. Refusing to have an embargoed arrangement would be a serious break with tradition, and the very idea was just -- exhausting. 

Sasha, his boisterous, gap-toothed valet, banged into the room at 7:00 a.m. sharp; Zhenya groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “None of that, now. We have to make you look royal, so God knows we need every last second.” Sasha grabbed the blankets and yanked them off. Zhenya yelped and curled into a tight comma on the bed. “Up, you lazy, posh twat.”

“Why did I make you my valet. Why,” Zhenya said, muffled into his pillow. Sasha had not come up through the ranks of the palace staff, as most valets did. He had been a teammate of Zhenya’s on their university hockey team, and some fit of insanity had led Zhenya to conclude that his total lack of finesse in matters of protocol and politics was appropriate for the job. 

“Because you knew I wouldn’t put up with your bullshit and you were right. You’re getting married today, so let’s try and fool all these rubes into thinking you’ve got class, eh?”

Zhenya slumped out of bed, only to be manhandled out of his pajamas by Sasha. “Hey!”

He snorted. “Like I’ve never seen your dick before. And a lot more people are going to be seeing it today, so get over it. Shower, now.”

Zhenya spent the morning being scrubbed, polished, trimmed, neatened, and perfumed to within an inch of his life. Breakfast was brought in, an unusually light meal. “Are they afraid I’m going to throw up?” he grumbled, eating his toast.

“Probably. Are you?”

“No.”

“You’re not nervous?”

“I’m a little anxious. Excited. What’s to be nervous about?”

“I mean…” Sasha made vague gestures all around him at everything.

Zhenya swallowed and sipped at his tea. “Have you heard...anything?”

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes. “About my betrothed.”

“Even if I had, I wouldn’t be allowed to share it. If you want to know, you’ll have to hire a hacker to un-embargo his Instagram.” Zhenya just looked at him. Sasha sighed. “All I know is that he and his entourage arrived two nights ago.”

“‘Entourage?”

“His parents are with him, and he’s got his own guards. He’ll have the guards until he’s unveiled. You knew that, right?”

“I know.”

“Other than that they’re all keeping to their quarters. He’s not supposed to be seen until the wedding.”

“He’s not going to be seen after the wedding! Not that anybody knows what he looks like. He could be walking around the palace in a bathing suit eating peaches and nobody would know it was him.”

“The embargo is for your own good, and his. And the kingdom’s.”

“I get it.” And he did, really. If his consort hadn’t conceived within a year, he would be replaced, and that process would be a lot easier for everyone involved if he, and the citizens, hadn’t gotten attached to him. Hence, the embargo. At least, that’s what the clerics said. Endlessly. “I understand the principle. It’s just going to take some getting used to, being married to someone and having sex with him without seeing his face or talking to him.”

Sasha snorted. “C’mon, Zhenya. You’ve had more than your share of hookups.”

“So?”

“How many of their names can you remember, or even their faces? You’re telling me you had deep conversations with them?”

“That’s different. This man will be my husband.”

“I heard that the prince of Patagonia and his consort broke their embargo and fell in love. She didn’t get pregnant so she had to leave, they were both heartbroken, he almost abdicated his throne, it was a horrible mess, he wouldn’t sleep with the new consort and so she had to be replaced, the first consort was disgraced and went into hiding, nobody knows what happened to her and he’s a giant ball of depression.”

Zhenya blinked. “That’s terrible.”

“Honor your embargo, Zhenya.”

He sighed. “I intend to.”

Embargoed marriage ceremonies were small, private affairs. The unveiling was really the big public spectacle, when the kingdom could at last meet their prince’s husband. The wedding was more for the clerical blessing and the witnessed consummation, and a huge gathering for that was considered unseemly. Zhenya had been trained since childhood not to feel immodest for this occasion, but he was still glad that there would only be a few witnesses present.

He walked to the chapel in his custom-made marriage robes, simple but lush as was the current style. Standing outside the chamber were six of his consort’s guards. Their uniforms were pleasingly clean-lined, black and tailored with deep gold trim, and they snapped to attention as he approached, disciplined and in perfect formation. Zhenya nodded to them -- he imagined he’d be getting to know them soon enough -- and passed through.

A heavy drape hung in the center of the dais with a small hole cut in it for their hands to pass through. Zhenya took his place on the left, nodding to the head cleric. He heard rustling from the other side of the drape and a shadow fell upon it; his new consort had taken his place on the other side.

They did not speak during the ceremony, as their embargo forbade them from hearing one another’s voices. The cleric spoke to them; they acknowledged his words with nods of assent to his questions and directives. When he bade them do so, they joined hands through the hole in the drape. Zhenya noted that his betrothed’s hand was square and strong, and gripped his without hesitation, exhibiting no sign of a nervous tremor. A promising start. He shut his eyes and sent up a prayer to whatever deity might be handy...please, let me like him. Please, let him get pregnant quickly. Let him be smart. And if it’s not too much to ask, please, let him be...not hideous.

“You are joined,” the cleric concluded, simply. Two deacons appeared and removed the drape.

His consort was dressed in elegant marriage robes of his own, including a cape and a veil that hid him from view entirely save for his hands. The only new information Zhenya received with the removal of the drape was his consort’s height, about half a head shorter than Zhenya. He smiled at his new husband and they bowed to each other. Zhenya watched as his consort made a silent greeting to his parents, the Duke and Duchess of New Scotland, who Zhenya did not know at all. With over seventeen thousand peerage titles in the world, one couldn’t meet them all, or even a tiny fraction. The consort’s guards had materialized in the chapel and now surrounded their master and escorted him off the dais and off into the chamber where the next and final step would happen.

Zhenya turned to receive his own parents’ congratulations, and a back-slapping hug from Sasha, wildly overstepping his role as a valet as usual. Zhenya’s father rolled his eyes but didn’t chastise him; his parents loved Sasha as they loved Zhenya himself. More, he sometimes suspected. 

The cleric hovered at Zhenya’s elbow. “Your Royal Highness, you are awaited in the antechamber.” 

Sasha winked at him. “Good luck. Do it right the first time and this embargo can end quickly.”

“I don’t think it’s entirely up to me,” Zhenya said, but he hoped for the same. He couldn’t imagine waiting for months on end, walking on eggshells every day, everyone looking askance at him if it dragged on and wondering at his virility if he failed to impregnate his spouse. As if it would be for lack of trying. 

He followed the cleric into the antechamber. His consort would have gone on ahead to be prepared and arranged by his personal attendants, although Zhenya wasn’t quite sure what that meant, beyond the obvious. This situation was generally not intended to produce arousal in both parties, so he damn well hoped that his consort’s “preparation” involved vaginal lubrication of some kind, for both of their comfort. He’d find out soon enough, but first there was still all manner of ceremonial mumbo-jumbo to attend to.

Zhenya wasn’t particularly devout, a fact he kept mostly to himself. At minimum, a visible attention to custom was expected and valued by the citizens, and Zhenya had no wish to disappoint them, or more accurately, to give them cause to distrust him. He respected the beliefs of his parents (mostly his mother) and of the clerics, but he’d have dispensed with the whole rigmarole if he’d had his choice. But this was his duty, so he stood quietly and allowed the clerics to say their blessings over him and waft their burning herbs as his outer robes were removed.

Underneath his robes were his tunic and trousers, which had been made with a flap at the front (“easy access,” Sasha had joked). He wouldn’t undress further than this, at least not for this ceremonial consummation. He’d be expected to achieve a minimum objective today, the most that could be hoped for in these high-pressure and decidedly not private circumstances.

One of the sub-clerics stood at his side. “Your Royal Highness, will you require assistance readying yourself?” he asked, quietly. Sasha, lurking behind him, snorted.

“Assistance?” Zhenya said, puzzled...but then it hit him. He was being asked if he’d need help getting it up. It stood to reason that he might, with people watching and the Fate of the Kingdom Depending and blah blah blah. Anxiety was not typically the friend of erections. The sub-cleric was offering a helping hand, so to speak. Zhenya had heard stories. Supposedly there’d once been a groom nervous enough that the sub-cleric had to use his mouth on him before he could manage it.

Zhenya didn’t think he’d need quite that much assistance; indeed, he hoped he wouldn’t need any. “Let’s...proceed, and we’ll see,” he said. The sub-cleric nodded and went to the door into the main chamber.

It was dim inside, fragrant with burning herbs. Several clerics were lined up at the far side of the room, chanting quietly. Behind a screen stood half a dozen shadowy figures; witnesses, drawn from the nobility and the royal family. Zhenya didn’t know who was back there and he didn’t care to know. He would likely never know; it was considered rude to disclose one’s presence at such an occasion. Zhenya had himself been a witness at his cousin’s consummation five years ago. You really couldn’t see much at all, through the screen and the awkward angle.

At the moment, however, his attention was captivated by the bed in the center of the room, and his consort upon it. He was laid out on his stomach, covered in drapes even including his head -- Zhenya worried for a moment if he could breathe adequately under there. Two of his guards stood at the head of the bed, eyes fixed firmly forward. The drapes extended from over his consort’s head past his feet, and in the center was an oval-shaped cutout exposing what was, without question, the most fantastic backside Zhenya had ever seen in his life, and he’d seen his fair share.

No. He would not be needing assistance. In fact, he felt himself swelling at the sight of just this one part of his new consort’s body. It was odd, and unexpectedly titillating, to be presented with a more-or-less disembodied ass, even if he could see the shape of the rest of the man under the drape -- but, he supposed, that titillation shouldn’t really be unexpected; why else did glory holes exist? Not that he’d ever partaken of such things, in clubs, in his slightly-wilder youth, absolutely not. But this was his husband, not a late night quickie. It wouldn’t be like this all the time, he assured himself. This was just for the ceremonial bit. Future couplings would be much less...ritualized.

They were all looking at him, waiting for him to get to it, but there was a step to be taken first. He glanced at the cleric and nodded. The cleric hesitated, then moved to the head of the bed. This was Zhenya’s personal addition to the ceremonies, and the cleric had been reluctant to deviate from the traditional sequence of events, but Zhenya had insisted.

He had no interest in a spouse who’d been forced into marrying him, as he’d made sure his parents understood before they set out to find him one. “I do have one condition, and it is non-negotiable,” he’d said.

His father had looked surprised. “What is it, son?”

“I require absolute assurance that any consort of mine enters into marriage to me of their own free will, and not under duress.”

His parents had exchanged a glance. “That should not be difficult; marriage into our family is considered very desirable.”

“Be that as it may, I need you to promise me, Father..”

His father had nodded, and seemed even pleased by this directive. “You have my word, son.”

And now, the cleric spoke to the consort on Zhenya’s behalf. “Your Highness,” he said, using the man’s new title -- after the embargo was lifted, he would become His Royal Highness, the same honorific that Zhenya received. “Prince Evgeni wishes me to ask you for your consent before he joins with you.” Zhenya saw the consort’s head turn to the side. “He values your agreement to this consummation.”

The man hesitated. Zhenya saw the surprise in his shoulders. His head turned further,  seeming to look back over his shoulder at Zhenya, and he nodded.

The cleric straightened up. “Does this satisfy Your Royal Highness?” There was just a touch of “are you happy now?” impatience in the cleric’s voice which Zhenya chose to ignore.

Zhenya nodded. He removed his gloves and handed them to Sasha, who was being appropriately quiet and invisible for once in his life. He unbuttoned the flap on the front of his trousers; he was half-erect already and filling fast.

He knelt on the bed. He wasn’t supposed to make any unnecessary contact this first time, but he couldn’t help but run his hands briefly over his husband’s smooth, muscular rear. Just like that, he was fully hard and more than ready. He placed his knees within the drapery cutout on either side of the consort’s hips; the man shifted slightly, spreading his thighs a little bit to give him room. Zhenya reached back and tucked his cock down and against the man’s entrance, relieved to find that he was, indeed, slick. He pressed forward and entered him; Zhenya stifled a groan and felt a shudder pass over the man beneath him. He was tight and warm; Zhenya held still for a moment with his eyes closed and hips pressed against his consort’s impossibly plump ass. 

He braced on his hands and shut his eyes, making smooth, even thrusts. There’d be time later to investigate what kind of sex his husband enjoyed, but now was the time to be quick about it and get the job done. He tried to visualize success, as the clerics liked to say during their instruction, and picture his seed finding its target and blossoming in his consort’s womb. The minimum embargo time was three months; even if he conceived right now, early pregnancy was so delicate that it wasn’t considered official until the three--month mark. After carrying to three months, the consort was accepted into the family and unveiled, even if the child was subsequently lost.

Zhenya had often wondered about consorts who failed to conceive and were replaced. Who was to say that it was their fault? Both parties underwent pre-marriage medical testing to minimize this risk, but bodies were unpredictable. Of course it might not be the consort’s fault; the would-be sire could just as easily be the one whose biology failed them, but such a thing could not be admitted for a royal scion. He’d heard one tale, possibly apocryphal, of a prince whose consort hadn’t conceived -- unwilling to accept defeat, the prince had asked his consort to get him pregnant, which she had done, and their embargo was released.

The contemplation of such machinations was premature, he knew. He and his new consort had only just begun.

As keyed up as he was, it didn’t take long for him to finish. He thrust in deep and spilled, clenching his teeth against the desire to cry out. He felt his consort sigh and press back against him a little, a welcome signal of acknowledgment. Zhenya let his head droop for a moment, then straightened up and pulled out. Sasha was right there with a cloth for him to clean himself before he refastened his pants.

The cleric stepped forward and blessed the union, prayers for the success of the joining, yadda yadda. Zhenya barely paid attention. Sasha was replacing his robe on him, but all Zhenya could do was look at the draped form of his new husband, especially the one part of it that he could see, and hope that it wouldn’t be too long before he could see the rest of it.

He let Sasha lead him out of the chamber, glad that was over -- but in another, very real sense, it was just beginning. He was now a married man, with a responsibility to his consort, who was at something of a disadvantage in this situation. He hoped he could be a good, supportive husband to him, until at last the day came that he’d be allowed to see his face.

Next Chapter

[babyybitchhh]

Shikamaru or Senku?

Damn, anon. You really just came for my throat like that. I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you but, from the bottom of my heart, I apologize. I swear it won’t happen again. 🤧

Okay, okay. All jokes aside. This is a real toughie and I’m gonna have to reveal just how much of a dumb bitch I really am to explain my answer. Yes, I fall back on the zodiac to fill in any gaps in characterization and determine just how compatible I actually am with fictional men. Sue me. As per usual, this post got a bit away from me so if you want to skip down to the TL;DR for my final answer, please do. I encourage it, actually. lol 

Ishigami Senkuu

January 4th - Capricorn

Strengths: leadership, responsible, disciplined, self-control, good managers

Weaknesses: lack of compassion, know-it-all, unforgiving, condescending, expecting the worst

“Capricorn is a sign that represents time and responsibility, and its representatives are traditional and often very serious by nature. These individuals possess an inner state of independence that enables significant progress both in their personal and professional lives. They are masters of self control and have the ability to lead the way, make solid and realistic plans, and manage many people who work for them at any time. They will learn from their mistakes and get to the top based solely on their experience or expertise.”

“Known for their rational approach to life and their emotions are often well hidden from plain view. Not only is it imperative for them to stick to the realm of absolute intimacy to open their heart for someone but they are often not fully aware of their feelings before hardships occur. This will put pressure on their love life as they have to make a strict and specific equation out of everything, distancing them from carefree and smiling partners who wish to have fun in a relationship.”

“There is nothing easy in the love life of these individuals but they will not see this as the end of the world. They have enough passion and warmth carried within and if mutual respect is found and strong boundaries respected both ways, they will be prepared to let someone into their world and protect them with their shield.”

“As an earth sign, Capricorn has a powerful and instinctive sensuality which expresses itself in a straightforward and natural way without the need for props, frills or adornment. Is it somewhat bereft of romance? Well maybe, but what Capricorn lacks in the way of sentimentality, it more than makes up for in terms of responsibility and discretion ... once it overcomes its initial reserve and caution, it can usually be relied upon to give full satisfaction, no matter how long it takes. As with most other things in its life, Capricorn prefers to take its time over its lovemaking, and its highly developed self-control gives it the stamina to stay the course.”

Nara Shikamaru

September 22 - Virgo

Strengths: pure emotion, loyal, analytical, kind, hardworking, practical

Weaknesses: sensitive to toxic environments, shyness, worry, overly critical of self and others, all work and no play

“Virgo’s are always paying attention to the smallest details and their deep sense of humanity makes them one of the most careful of the zodiac. Their methodical approach to life ensures that nothing is left to chance and although they are often tender, their heart might be closed for the outer world. This is a sign often misunderstood, not because they lack the ability to express but because they won’t accept their feelings as valid, true or even relevant when opposed to reason.”

“Feelings of love and life may be a bit like ocean waves that move with the current. With so much water flowing through their primal nature, their rational mind will easily fade around those that touch their heart. This makes them vulnerable to all sorts of betrayals and wrong compromises along the way. They need to be stable and firm in understanding and deciphering their own feelings before anyone else’s or they might lower their guard too far down.”

“They need a partner who is as fragile as they are but also someone who is aware of the strength of their emotional world.”

“ Many Virgos aren’t particularly comfortable with demonstrative displays of emotion or dramatic, over-the-top outbursts. Normally quite shy by nature, they prefer to express their affection in tangible, down-to-earth ways: love for them is about actions, not just empty words. Big worriers who don’t find it easy to show their feelings, Virgos are prone to internalizing their anxieties about their physical desirability – frequently making themselves ill in the process – and can often be a bit uptight around sex. To balance this, they need lots of reassurance that they’re actually perfectly okay!”

Now ... y’all can correct me if I’m wrong, but that all sounds pretty spot on to me. Like, it’s accurate. I’ve mentioned this a few times when replying to comments on my Dr Stone fics, but I really enjoy how nuanced Senkuu is because there’s a lot going on under the surface of his cool facade. He’s very task-oriented and objective about what needs to be done, but he’s also extremely sympathetic towards others even if he tries to play it off. It seems hard for him to be honest about his feelings because, frankly, they’re not rational enough for his liking, so he tries to find ways to justify them. On the flip side, Shikamaru is a little similar with his cool, objective-oriented outer shell but he’s conversely quite sensitive. Like, hella sensitive. That boy is not anywhere near as tough or impenetrable as he acts and I do think at least part of that is a defense mechanism of some sort to shield his heart, even before Asuma died but especially afterward. They’re both tough to penetrate emotionally and they guard their true feelings so well that it actually does manage to fool people. I mean both the characters around them and also the fans watching at home. So at this point, there doesn’t seem to be a conclusive winner and it should come down to a simple matter of preference, right?

Well, let’s see what the stars have to say about throwing a Leo into the mix.

Capricorn + Leo

“... have one thing in common and it’s their awareness of self. It will be a rare occasion when Leo is attracted to Capricorn but the other way around seems more probable.”

“Both are extremely devoted, especially to each other. Although they may seem to be an unlikely couple on the surface, their love will grow as they discover similarities.”

“Like Barbie and Ken, you’re a good looking pair ... your shared love of achievement and impressive ambition sends power couple fantasies running through your heads. If you’re out to conquer the same goal, your combined skills make you quite an awesome force to behold.”

“The physical intimacy between a Leo and a Capricorn is where this mismatched couple can come together. Leo is hot, physical, feminine, [and] enjoys giving pleasure. In a day to day life, Capricorn is reserved and proper but when it comes to sex, he wants it wild, woolly, rough and tumble. Lucky for him, Leo has a similar sexual appetite. It’s in bed where Leo has the power to make customarily reserved Capricorn throw caution to the wind and become a bit crazy in love.”

“What you’ve got here is one sign with a forensic eye for detail and another who paints with an incredibly broad brushstroke. The possibility of driving each other crazy is real.”

“Capricorn is more likely to be attracted to Leo than the other way around - they’ll watch the lion prance, preform and captivate with their personality and either instantly dislike or feel uncomfortably drawn to them.”

The good: both seek success, Capricorn teaches Leo patience, Leo teaches Capricorn passion

The bad: Leo thinks Capricorn is a cold fish, Capricorn thinks Leo is a show off, it all gets too hard to compromise

Virgo + Leo

“Their rationality might turn into an intellectual battle for sexual dominance, that is, if they ever reach the point in which they both want to have sex with each other.”

“Leo shows Virgo good times and fun, and introduces the spontaneity that is often missing from Virgo’s life. Virgo teaches Leo patience and focuses their intellectual energy.”

“Leo plays cheerleader to pessimistic Virgo while levelheaded Virgo steps into the therapists role, mirroring Leo’s angst until a breakthrough is reached. This is a safe emotional harbor for both of you.”

“Virgo and Leo see their time together in bed as a celebration of their love and commitment. Both are hopeless romantics so there will be plenty of physical foreplay, including morning kisses, long evening embraces, candles, flowers, and massages. A creative and open minded Leo is always willing to try something new and Virgo, who is no prude either, will be a willing follower. Together these two can reach sexual heights they’ve never experienced before.”

“A comedy of errors ...Leo and Virgo are forever working through misunderstandings and mending communication fences. Often it’s as if they speak different languages.”

“Leo pounces and Virgo, invariably, plays hard to get, rebuffing the lion and appearing completely underwhelmed by their charms. This of course drives Leo into a frenzy of heightened passion - they pull out their A game and deliver super hot maneuvers. The funny thing is that such scenarios are usually Virgo devised and orchestrated. They’ve probably observed the flamboyant lion in action - noted that everyone submits to their charisma and decided to go in the opposite direction. If played correctly Leo becomes a lovesick pussy cat ...”

“Virgo is a bit of a tease - for much of the “falling in Love” phase they love-starve Leo who shamelessly begs for morsels of affection. It actually makes the attraction between them electric.”

The good: Virgo teaches Leo patience, Leo teaches Virgo to have fun, they are fascinated by each other

The bad: messy Leo drives neat freak Virgo crazy, negative Virgo brings Leo down, poor communication abounds

So ... what did we take from all that? Well, first of all, both of them are apparently going to teach me patience which I admit I sorely need. Conversely, I’d bring passion, fun and spontaneity to their lives. On one hand, Senkuu seems like he’d be much more drawn to me than Shikamaru because even though I do stay drinking my dumb bitch juice, we have similar driving forces in our lives and I’m not a complete idiot. I love science, especially when it comes to learning about space and how the world works, just not the mathematical portion. That part can eat my ass tbh. On the other hand though, if Shikamaru and I could sort of find a common ground to stand on it sounds like it would be a very healthy relationship for the both of us which I need so badly it’s kind of not funny. Like, I’m self-aware enough to realize what I need out of a hypothetical relationship and it (unfortunately) is the kind of emotional connection that facilitates healing and growth rather than stagnation. I don’t think either of them would just sit there and watch me flounder in my angst, as one of those quotes put it, but everything is pointing at Shikamaru being much more well equipped to tackle the problem while simultaneously needing the same in return, which I would be more than happy to give him.

TL;DR: I actually cannot pick between them. I just can’t do it. I love them both for strangely similar but also drastically different reasons and, objectively, I can’t say I like one more than the other. Both give me soft, doki doki feelings that I don’t know what to do with and even after thinking on it for about two hours, I’m incapable of saying with definitive certainty that I like one more. So all I can go off of is what the zodiac has to say about our compatibility which is pointing at both potential relationships being rocky with their ups and downs, but Shikamaru being the more sensitive of the two comes out the winner in the end. That’s not to say I wouldn’t work with Senkuu to truly become the power couple we both secretly crave, but I know my emotions can get away from me at times and it seems to me that Shikamaru would be a smidge more understanding in that department. 

I realize this definitely isn’t the answer you were expecting, anon, and I absolutely considered scrapping this whole post more than once. lol But I didn’t want to shrug off the question just because I couldn’t decide which of them I liked more. Anyway, for the sake of posterity, here’s what the zodiac has to say about me for comparison. 

August 7th - Leo

Strengths: Energetic, creative, passionate, generous, warm-hearted, cheerful, humorous

Weaknesses: Hasty, arrogant, stubborn, self-centered, lazy, inflexible

“Love is the focus point of these individuals, and while their intellectual and instinctive sides are the first ones to show, we will see that they seek someone equal, to share their inner states with. They need a lot of support and a calm partner that soothes their Soul, someone quiet enough and intimate enough to feel safe with. Easy to detach from reality and our planet Earth, their relationships either speak of the unseen and the impossible or present a safe haven where their bodies can rest, and their routine can be brought to balance.”

“Open for new things and often ready to openly show their sexuality, they need a fine touch of love they are worthy of in this lifetime. Romance can be obstructed by their need to prove a point or become the image of something they admire, but as they get closer to their inner truth and become aware of their talents and potentials, they invite the right partner to be within a strangely peaceful union. Although they sometimes stand opposed to marriage and structures and forms that put any relationship in a drawer, they will gladly commit to the right person by their side, in all those surprising and unusual ways.”

“This Fire sign is passionate and sincere and its representatives show their feelings with ease and clarity. When in love, they are fun, loyal, respectful and very generous towards their loved one. They will take the role of a leader in any relationship, and strongly rely on their need for independence and initiative. This can be tiring for their partner at times, especially if they start imposing their will and organizing things that aren't theirs to organize in the first place. Each Leo needs a partner who is self-aware, reasonable and on the same intellectual level as them. Their partner also has to feel free to express and fight for themselves, or too much light from their Leo's Sun might burn their own personality down.”

“Sex life of each Leo is an adventure, fun and very energetic. This is someone who has a clear understanding of boundaries between sex and love, but might fail to see how important intimacy and emotional connection is to the quality of their sex life. Every Leo needs a partner to fight through their awareness and reach their sensitive, subconscious core, in order to find true satisfaction in a meaningful relationship.”

(Spoiler alert: this is all true, except the part about taking on the role of leader in relationships. I genuinely love being dominated in bed, but only if I deem my partner worthy or adequate enough to get the job done. Other than that though, I can’t say any part of this is horribly incorrect. Oops. : / )

[howling-harpy]

Sweet Sickness

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Speirs/Lipton Word Count: 6386

Summary: In Haguenau, Lipton is fighting off pneumonia, and he and Captain Speirs share a room with only one bed. Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, and means no disrespect.

A/N: I have wanted to write on this situation for ages. This fic practically wrote itself. It’s my speirton thesis. 

*

There was a dead snake lying over the threshold of the living-room in the house they took. It didn’t even look out of the place in the abandoned, rummaged mansion that might have as well be dead as well. Lipton wasn’t in the condition to critique interior design when they arrived, and not even to mind rubble and dust and mud on the floors, he was too busy trying to stay steady on his feet when he wobbled out of the truck and into the new company CP. He had no idea what he looked like, but he had a hunch he was even worse than the other men in the company, and Luz was close behind him as if ready to catch him if he suddenly fell.

Pneumonia, the medic had said and uselessly told him he needed to be in a hospital, as if that was a possibility. At first he had hoped that the cough was from the cigarettes, but the bloody rattle tearing at his lungs proved to be a serious thing after all, and with it came the fever. Lipton had never experienced a fever like this. He was hot and drowsy like he had been baking in the midday sun in the middle of summer, but at the same time he shivered with chills running down his body, and all the while his brain was foggy and throbbed like an egg about to crack in boiling water. He could barely open his jacket and pull down his suspenders and collapse on the couch before the world tipped over, and all the while Luz was fussing around him like he was a helpless child and not the company’s First Sergeant. The blanket Luz had managed to snatch from somewhere was god-sent though, and Lipton didn’t complain about the coffee either. At this point he would have drank plain hot water just to sooth his raw throat, even though his hands could barely manage to hold a mug steady. There was the regular business going through the CP, and Lipton struggled to keep up with it. Webster finally rejoined the company, the second platoon got a new lieutenant, there was a needless and dangerous-sounding patrol, and Captain Speirs stopped his looting to size up the fresh blood and then bark at Lipton to get to bed and sleep. Lipton took a note of everything going on around him, but his head felt like it was full of cotton and he couldn’t make himself focus on anything for too long before losing his train of thought. He worried about the patrol but could do nothing about it, just watched orders be passed by him while he lay on the remains of a couch with a piece of paper in his hand, trying to work. Luz had his own duties with the rations and he had to leave Lipton’s side, but not after fixing him a second cup of coffee. Speirs had his hands full with the patrol and he left with the other officers to be briefed and prepare it, and Lipton was left at the CP. He tried to work, tried to catch up with paperwork and be somehow useful even if ill, but at some point he must have dozed off. He was woken up when it was already dark outside, the February night chilly and even darker with the light discipline enforced. He was woken up by someone who shook him by a shoulder, startling him. “I told you to go to bed!” Speirs growled impatiently. Lipton blinked. “I meant to,” he mumbled, but wasn’t sure if it was true. He should have been working, but given how he had fallen asleep he might have as well been in their room. “Come on, we’re going now,” Speirs ushered him, now pulling him by his shoulder, urging him to get up. The sleep was still making Lipton’s head heavy and his limbs didn’t quite know how to do their job, but with support he managed to get up. The blanket fell off him and exposed him to the room temperature that might have as well been freezing, and before he could even try to control it his body gave a shiver that almost made him fold over. Speirs kept his hold of him, determinedly hoisting his arm on his shoulder and pulled Lipton against his side. “Just look at you, Lieutenant. You can’t even stand,” he muttered in a tone that sounded angry but what Lipton by now knew to be worry. “You’re going to bed this instant. Come. Try and move your feet, I’ll steer.” Even though he was ashamed of the worry he was causing, Lipton had to recognize he had no other option. His body ached and shivered and he was too dizzy to even make out the room properly, and so he had no choice but to accept the help from his Captain. Speirs took him up the stairs, guiding him up the stairs with steady patience at each step, always at his side and waiting for him to find his feet. Together they made their way down the hallway all the way to the room furthest back, where Speirs pushed the door open with his shoulder and then pulled Lipton behind him inside. When the door closed behind them, all the additional noise from the house and outside too seemed to fade, and they were left in a barren room that’s only window was boarded up and covered with several mismatched curtains just to be sure. There was one singular oil lamp on the floor burning with a low flame, illuminating the room in soft yellow light. Next to it was a bedroll, and on the opposite wall a freshly made bed. “I thought you said there were beds here,” Lipton said, glancing between the bed and the sleeping bag. “Yes, one in every room,” Speirs said. “Hop in.” Lipton wondered about the words for a second, then realized that Speirs was now guiding him towards the only bed. “Sir – No, I can’t – “ “You can and you will,” Speirs answered calmly and with his brand of finality that no one dared to argue. Except for Lipton when he had a reasonable cause, of course. “Sir, I can’t take your bed. You’re an officer, you should take the bed. I’ll be alright on the floor.” Speirs gave him a sharp look. “You’re sick.” The don’t be an idiot was heavily implied. Lipton didn’t have enough energy to argue any further, just shook his head in protest even though he was shuffling his feet obediently along as Speirs dragged him across the floor and finally dropped him on the bed. For a moment Lipton’s world was tilting as he sat on the edge of the mattress and tried to comprehend his shifted point of gravity and the feeling of relief in his legs when he took his weight off them. He felt strangely flared up all over, all his muscles tender and sore at the same time, and in that moment it dawned on him that once he’d tip himself into the bed he wouldn’t get up in quite a while. Even in his sluggish mind defiance flared. He had work to do, duties to attend, he couldn’t just roll over and let a lousy illness defeat him! He mumbled something about it out loud, but Speirs shushed him. The Captain hunched over to nonchalantly strip him of his jacket and undo his suspenders from his trousers like he undressed his sergeants every day. Lipton didn’t know what to do or say under Speirs’ efficient ministrations, so he just cooperated with what little was demanded of him, even when Speirs knelt on the floor and undid his boots. Lipton swallowed. It was terribly inappropriate to have your superior on his knees before you, taking your shoes off for you, but Speirs did it as if it was nothing. One boot came loose and he tossed it on the floor at the foot of the bed, and the other soon followed. Speirs stood up. “There. Now you can’t run off,” he said, then ushered Lipton further on the bed and shoved him down on it. Lipton went down easily, and to his misfortune found the bed even more comfortable than it had looked. The mattress didn’t have strings but feather fillings, making it the softest thing he had ever felt and he sank into it like a kitten into a too big cushion. The bed cradled his sore body like it was meant for his resting place, and all strength was drained out of him the moment his back hit it and he let out a rattling sigh. The sheets were fresh, just like Speirs had said earlier that day. Lipton’s feverish mind wondered if the Captain had made the bed himself, gathered all these plush comforters and crispy clean sheets and made a comfortable nest just for him. He chuckled at the thought, staring into the ceiling that looked like it was moving. “Stay there. I’ll be right back,” Speirs said, turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Lipton didn’t know how long he was gone. It felt like just a moment but honestly it could have been an hour, Lipton’s mind was drifting as if it was trying to leave his body, and he hovered on the edges of consciousness. He wasn’t even sure who had pulled the covers on him, had he done it himself or had Speirs done it somehow without him noticing. Anything was plausible now, Lipton was too exhausted and dizzy to piece together too long a chain of logic. When Speirs came back, Lipton didn’t hear him enter but felt him sit down on the bed. “Here. Drink this,” Speirs said. He was holding a dark brown bottle in hand and pushed it towards Lipton. “What is it?” Lipton asked while pushing himself to sit up with the covers weighing him down, even though he suspected that he would drink whatever it was in any case. “Schnapps,” Speirs replied, “it’ll help. Come on, drink.” For a moment he watched Lipton struggle before he offered him a steadying hand, pulling him by the elbow and setting the hazy room to balance. Lipton knew it would make no difference to point out that he didn’t drink, so he accepted the bottle and took it to his lips. The bottle was heavy even though there wasn’t much liquid in it, just a few mouthfuls sloshing in the bottom. Tipping his head back made him dizzy, but Speirs brought his other hand up to steady the bottle for him so he didn’t spill any, and then the scorching liquid flooded his mouth. It was thick and black, or at least he imagined it to be, since it burned and tasted like aniseed and juniper, biting and bitter like cough syrup with an aftertaste of earth. One mouthful went down, burning his throat, and still the bottle had liquid in it and Speirs wouldn’t let him put it down, just to lower it enough to take a breath and then tilted it up again. The fever burned, but the liquid burned hotter, lavishing his sore throat and lungs coughed tender. He took another mouthful, and it felt like he was drinking poison, something brewed out of a forest floor in a cauldron. The third mouthful was the last, and when it went down Lipton felt a new kind of dizziness in his head. Some of the pressure inside his skull had eased, but now it felt like whatever stuffing had been smothering it had liquefied and was now swimming in his head. “What was that?” Lipton managed to ask. The bottle disappeared, and he assumed Speirs took it out of his hands. He heard it clinking on the floor, then toppling over and rolling on the floor before hitting the wall somewhere under the bed. Speirs made a sound, something like a laugh in a breath. “I have no idea,” he said carelessly. “Stay awake. Now this.” Something warm brushed against Lipton’s cheek and he focused his eyes in front of him. Speirs had shifted closer to him and had touched his hand against his cheek. Lipton frowned, not being able to see the reason for a gesture like that, and perhaps seeing his bafflement Speirs said: “You’re still warm.” He was also holding something, a small plate with a pastry of some sort and a fork stuck into it. He balanced the plate on his knee, took the fork and starter to saw pieces off the little treat. Lipton watched him silently, swaying a bit and watching how the crust crackled revealing several leaf-thin layers and a yellow fruit filling that looked like baked apples. Speirs gathered fruit and crust on the fork, then carefully presented it to Lipton. He did it so naturally and without any hesitation that Lipton didn’t even have the mind to question it, he just opened his mouth and accepted the food offered. He could barely taste anything, but he did recognize the sweet caramelized apple, so soft he didn’t even have to chew for the cubes to dissolve in his mouth, and the crust was rich and good too even though he knew instantly it couldn’t have been made with butter or even entirely with wheat. But it was crispy and fresh, better than anything he could remember having eaten, and when the fork was presented to him the second time, he accepted it more eagerly than the first. Speirs shifted closer to him, and even through the thick covers he could feel the warmth coming off his thigh. He didn’t say a word while he was at the task, just cut the pastry in pieces, forked it and fed it to Lipton, keeping up a brisk pace until all there was left was crumbs and drops of the filling. Speirs put the plate and the fork away, and this time Lipton saw him put them under the bed, out of the way. He felt tired, but also content in some way. The alcohol buzzed in his head and shimmered in his belly, clouding his already hazy mind enough to just enjoy being doted on like this without wondering what Speirs was thinking or how any of this would look to someone else. The alcohol had dulled the aches of his body and the pastry satisfied a hunger he hadn’t recognized from other pains, and the soft bed and warm covers were calling his shivering body. The thought barely formed, and then Speirs put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down as if to return him in the same place he had taken him from. Lipton managed a small noise that wasn’t quite agreeable but not defiant either as he was handled, and Speirs pulled the covers up again, cocooning him into the soft nest. Speirs acted as if he was somehow responsible for his care, or like he was handling some delicate piece of equipment that was his, and Lipton didn’t know how to feel about that. He couldn’t piece the thought together, but his body seemed to be acting on its own without needing a clearly articulated reason, and despite the tight covers his hand grabbed a hold of Speirs’ sleeve by his wrist. “Go to sleep now, Lieutenant,” Speirs said while his fingers took a hold of Lipton’s, trying to pry them off. “Yes, sir,” Lipton muttered, already drifting off, but his fingers grasping tighter. The order was unnecessary, he couldn’t have stayed awake if he wanted to, his eyes closed on their own accord and his body went pliant, the last strand of defiance snapping under the strain of pain, fever and alcohol. Last, he was aware of his fingers keeping a hold of something important, and then he knew nothing. When Lipton woke up, it was gradual. The room was still pitch black when he opened his eyes, and slowly he realized that it must still be in the middle of the night. He didn’t have to wonder what had woken him up, because the second thing he became aware of was how hot he was. He was sweating and burning up under the heavy covers that weighed him down into the mattress that felt like it wanted to swallow him, and with a groan he started to struggle out of the bundle of sheets and covers. He managed to fight his shoulders free and breached the suffocating swaddle, and the first breeze of cool air from the room was a heavenly relief. He took a deep breath and fought more of his body free. With the cool air rushing into his cocoon he realized his entire body was damp with sweat, and so were the sheets around him. With twisting and turning he fought the sheets from around him and felt the air cooling the sweat on his skin and his breathing eased. He remembered the dead snake downstairs and felt a distant kinship with the reptile, as he was trying to shed his sickbed’s tight embrace. With a new clarity he gasped for breath even though his lungs were still exhausted and sensitive, and with his struggling realized he wasn’t alone in the bed. It was too dark to see, but when his senses came back to him it was easy to tell who was lying beside him, fitted along the side of his body. He could feel his warmth, sense the position of his body by how it weighed down the mattress, and he recognized Speirs by his scent. He has showered, Lipton thought distantly as he inhaled the blend of soap and the dark earthly scent of his hair and neck, then turned his head on the pillow and startlingly found himself face to face with Speirs, who was awake. He couldn’t see him clearly enough to tell, but they were lying on the same pillow and there was something about his body that had changed, something that was definitely aware. Lipton froze. His mind was strikingly clear in a jolt and he realized he was hot in more than one way, no longer shivering but his blood pumping, powerful and rushing in his ears as his breath came out fast. His world was tilted in a way he suspected was the alcohol still in his system, but all it did was take away his fear he knew he should have felt. He didn’t turn away, and knew Speirs was looking back too. In the dark it was impossible to tell for quite a while, but slowly Lipton’s eyes got used to it and he could see the outline of the other man right next to him, the line of his shoulder as he lay on his side, the side of his face and his unruly hair. Finally, he could make out facial features, just barely by where the shadows were darker or deeper, and then lastly he saw the gleam of open eyes, blinking every now and then and staring at him like a predator waiting for its chance to jump. Their faces were inches apart on the pillow, but the thick covers and blankets jammed between them formed an almost modest barrier. The bed wasn’t actually really either narrow or wide, and Lipton remembered wondering before if it was a lavish bed for one or a cramped bed for two, and now lying there next to his commanding officer he thought again that he was simultaneously too far and too close to him, and his equally conflicted body shuddered both with instinct to escape and desire to crawl closer. Even if frozen, with all that winding tension he couldn’t stop himself from gasping. He saw the outline of Speirs’ face shifting. He felt a tip of a nose brushing against his, and this time he gasped at the contact, as minimal as it was. He still didn’t know if he was retreating or advancing, but Lipton did move, just turned his head slightly and accidentally brushed his nose along the side of the other man’s nose, ending up touching his cheek. The sheets shuffled, and the pile of covers shifted. Something slipped off and dropped on the floor, something thin and heavy and probably woollen, but the thicker covers stayed on, no longer wrapped around him but covering him like a roof of a cave. More air rushed under the covers, and suddenly a new kind of warmth flushed against Lipton’s body and he realized he and Speirs lied now under the same cover. The room was quiet enough that he heard the sound his dry lips made when he parted them, and in the same moment Speirs’ hand touched his side. Another full body shudder ran through him, one that Speirs must have felt, and he had to speak. “Sir, what – “ Speirs’ voice was low and rough: “Don’t call me that now.” And then in one slow, smooth movement of his body, he was on top of him. Lipton let out a shuddering breath and instinctively his hands flew up to receive the other, ending up fluttering against his ribs. Despite his confusion and fright his legs fell apart to welcome him, and as Speirs pressed down against him, he had to swallow down an embarrassing noise when the other undoubtedly felt just how badly he wanted him there. Speirs nudged his hips against Lipton’s gently, almost intriguing, and Lipton chocked back a noise that threatened to escape. Speirs huffed out a pleased sound and rocked down again, more certain this time, and suddenly the man was on the move: his hands slid up along Lipton’s chest, pushing up his shirt and ending up kneading his shoulders, fingers sinking into the muscle. He used his hold as leverage to push better against Lipton, flexing his whole body, and this time Lipton couldn’t stop a thin moan from escaping. Speirs nuzzled his face against his cheek. “Shh,” he whispered, then did it again. Something hot and dangerous slithered in the bottom of Lipton’s stomach. He had been hard before, but now there was a thrill to it, a genuine, disorienting desire that sent his uncertain hands grasping Speirs’ shirt and his hips bucking up against him. “There you go,” Speirs breathed in his ear, satisfied. Lipton squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear his blood rushing in his ear and his heart hammering in his chest as he thrust up against Speirs like he didn’t know what else to do. He could feel the captain through both of their trousers, not fully hard yet but rapidly getting there, and rubbing against him was a thrilling pleasure that overrode his common sense. Speirs was a hot, heavy weight on top of him, and Lipton frightened himself with how much he loved it. His hands grasped at Speirs’ shirt and pushed it up, exposing bare skin of his back and flanks, and pushed underneath it to paw at anything he could reach. Urged by him, Speirs returned the favour and yanked Lipton’s shirt up as far as he could, and his hands followed to map out everything he found, all warm palms and clever fingers, making Lipton squirm and hum as he was toyed with even though he bit his lips together. There was nothing urgent about the movements of Speirs’ hips, just a rhythmic, languid loll like he was comfortable like that, tightly frotting while panting against Lipton’s neck. The pressure and the rhythm were more than enough to keep the desire mounting, something hot and shimmering building up in his belly, but it wasn’t enough and it left Lipton writhing, frustrated and burning up. Speirs was nuzzling against his cheek, then suddenly cupped Lipton’s jaw with his hand and reached his neck, searching for something better. Lipton made a muffled sound of uncertain protest and dodged, feeling Speirs’ lips brushing his brow instead. The hand on his jaw turned insistent, trying to get him into a right angle, but Lipton refused to comply. Speirs kissed his cheek instead, the gesture tender even though his stubble was not. “No?”   Lipton’s throat was dry and it was hard to think, and he didn’t know how to articulate any of his feelings. “Just that – I – Speirs, that’s not… appropriate,” he lamely finished. Speirs stilled, his hand still on Lipton’s jaw with his thumb brushing over his cheek. For a moment he seemed to gather his thought, which Lipton understood since he wasn’t that sure himself what he had meant. Nothing about what they were doing was appropriate, and kissing was hardly an escalation, but something about it felt too strong, too personal maybe. “I know,” Speirs said finally and brushed sweat-slicked hair back from Lipton’s forehead. “But I want you, Carwood. And you should call me Ron.” Something about his voice made Lipton shudder. There was something there, an underlying note of desire and heat that broke through whatever defences he had been trying to build, and when Speirs reached for his mouth again, he couldn’t make himself turn away. He felt Speirs pausing, felt his breath on his lips, then a tip of a tongue that lightly touched his bottom lip. “Let me have you.” It was half a question, half a demand, and Lipton felt goosebumps all over his skin, electrified in yet another way. “Ron,” he breathed, trying the name on his tongue for the first time. Speirs kissed him, consuming and wet at once, like he had been hungry for it and couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He kissed like he meant to taste him, like he wanted to steal his breath away and make sure he never kissed anyone again without comparing it to this. Speirs’ mouth was an insistent seal, his lips surprisingly sensual and soft even when his stubble scratched, and a kiss after kiss was claimed from Lipton. Speirs kissed like he couldn’t get enough, and Lipton felt dizzy with the sheer force of the hunger laid on him. When Speirs’ tongue licked into his mouth to coax his so that he could suckle on it, Lipton knew for certain that allowing this had been entirely too much. It was uncertain who recovered the use of their hands first, but as they kissed their bodies had almost on their own resumed their writhing against each other, and now it wasn’t suddenly enough anymore. With their lips trading wet kisses, they fumbled at their flies, then shoved their trousers and skivvies down their thighs, just enough. With their trousers around their thighs they couldn’t stay like they were but had to roll back onto their sides. Lipton missed the weight on top of him and in his shameless state wished they could get fully naked. He flushed at the thought and everything that followed, a flood of fantasies of having Speirs to himself locked away in some secure, private room where he could strip for him and keep the light on so he could in turn look at the man. Speirs was passionate and domineering even without pressing him down. It was effortless, like once he was evoked, he had no trouble letting his desire show and take what he wanted, and he seized Lipton by his bare hip, pulling them roughly together. Speirs let out a shuddering breath and right after sucked in air through his teeth, while Lipton took a series of shallow gasps. Feeling the other man’s bare, hard cock rubbing against him, his own cock and his belly, was a completely new sensation and it made Lipton’s thoughts reel. They had rolled half out from the covers, and the cool air in the room felt like additional caress on their heated bodies. Speirs rolled his hips against Lipton’s a few times while grasping his hip, his foot hooking itself around Lipton’s ankle under the covers, but he wasn’t satisfied. Unceremoniously, he spat into his hand and reached between them, taking a hold of both of them and then started to thrust. All Lipton could do was wrap his arms tightly around Speirs’ shoulders and hang on to the ride. He rolled his hips in time with Speirs, rubbing hot and throbbing into his hand and into the soft squish of their bellies. Each stroke brought along a new burst of tingling pleasure that kept building and made his whole body yearn. His back was arched and he kept flexing his hips to get the best possible angle, searching for it on instinct and mindlessly chasing the final fulfilment that he knew was coming, soon, any moment now, just a little bit more. Keeping quiet was becoming a real challenge. Lipton forgot to breathe from time to time as he tried to keep himself from moaning, and a part of him mourned how he couldn’t communicate his feelings to Speirs, who’d just have to read what he needed from the twisting of his body and ragged breathing. Things were getting very wet and slippery between them, and Speirs squeezed him just right, almost on the side of painful but so good, and Lipton lost all rhythm. Almost on their own accord, his hips rolled against Speirs, faster and harder for a moment, and after a few frenzied movements he felt that winding heat in his gut finally bursting. He felt the oncoming rush as a tingle in his thighs at first, and then everything came to a sudden completion that drowned him like a wave, making his toes curl, his hips buck, fingers dig into Speirs’ back and his mind whiten out as he shuddered under his release. He had to bury his face into Speirs’ shoulder to keep himself from crying out, and without meaning to he bit down. Speirs groaned, keen and predatory, his hand catching some of the come between them. He let go and once again pushed Lipton on his back, this time mounting his thigh and thrusting into the creek of his pelvis, smearing the mess left there. Lipton hanged on with his arms still tightly locked behind Speirs’ shoulders, and despite having just come he felt a thrill down his spine at holding Speirs against him like this and offering him pleasure. They were in someone else’s bed, Lipton thought with lewd amusement, it could have been someone’s marriage bed, and he was having sex with his commanding officer in it. In fresh sheets. He almost laughed. Speirs was thrusting against him in wild, sharp jerks, obviously close. His breathing was just harsh panting, too heavy to let him even kiss, but despite the darkness Lipton somehow knew he had exchanged kissing into looking. “Good… Carwood… So good,” Speirs muttered among his panting, the words strangled like he had tried to keep quiet but couldn’t. He sounded urgent, desperate even. Something about spoken words made Lipton’s heart jump. Maybe it was his name, something that made it clear that even though he could have been anyone in the dark, Speirs called out to him. A deeply pleasurable hum escaped Speirs. “I want to come on you,” he muttered urgently, like he didn’t mean to say it but the desire had overflowed, “Christ, I want to come in you.” “Oh God, Ron,” Lipton whispered hoarsely back, his face flushing at the thought, but despite the shock he knew how he felt about it, “Yes, God, yes, Ron.” He rolled up against Speirs and squeezed him to him, and then Speirs bared his teeth, groaning through them while his body went taunt and shivered on top of Lipton, who felt the muscles of his back seize up. He felt a splatter of warmth on his lower belly, and after a few moments filled with frantic panting, it was over. After catching his breath for a moment, Speirs gave a deep sigh and rolled off him. Lipton let him go and once again welcomed the cool air that calmed his heated skin and dried the sweat drenching him. Now that the desire had been flared and spent it was like they both came back to the real world, and the sound from outside the room came back on. There wasn’t much, just the occasional low howl of the wind between the buildings every now and then, an engine of a jeep as the car struggled down the muddy road, and a few singular gunshots traded somewhere down the river. There was sweat and come drying on Lipton’s skin and he was getting his wits back enough to be disgusted. Speirs didn’t stay in the bed for long, but with a put-upon grunt rolled over and got up. He pulled up his trousers and then went on to rummage through the dark room, apparently on search for something. There was a sound of a backpack being opened and metallic clattering as he searched through his stuff. Lipton sighed and took a corner of a sheet to wipe his belly as well as he could and then set the dirty sheet as far away from himself as possible without tossing it on the floor all together. He pulled his skivvies and then his trousers up just to cover himself but didn’t bother with the buttons. What had just taken place in the safety and secret of the darkness was beginning to dawn on him, and he had to struggle to keep his calm. He felt dazed and shocked, a little bit like after a shelling, wondering what exactly had happened and where all of it had even come from. Only the darkness stopped him from taking a good look at the aftermath of their encounter and panicking even though he could smell the thick scent of their sweat and come in the sheets, the smell of sex overwhelming and unmistakable even though it had never before been like this. But even while coming to his senses, Lipton couldn’t deny the warm shimmer in his chest or the lingering glow in his limbs. He was content, deeply sated, and with a start he recognized the lightness inside as joy. The mattress tipped again when Speirs came back to bed. “Here,” he said quietly and offered Lipton something, blindly reaching for him and touching his arm with something soft and damp. When Lipton took it in his hand, he realised it was a piece of damp fabric, and gratefully he cleaned himself up a bit better than with the dry sheet. When he was done, Speirs took the rag and tossed it carelessly into the darkness. Then his hands were once again on Lipton, smoothing down his shirt and rearranging the covers on him, not as many or as tightly this time, but still unmistakably tucking him in once again. “There,” Speirs said, gave his chest a pat on top of the comforter, and with that flopped down himself, pulling covers on himself. After returning to the original position, innocently sharing sleeping quarters with covers between them guarding their modesty and all the evidence wiped away, it was like nothing had ever happened. Once more, Speirs reached over, the back of his hand touching first Lipton’s cheek and then his forehead. “Better now,” he muttered, distantly pleased, then retracted his hand, turned over and went to sleep. Lipton didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how he could just go back to sleep, but his limbs were heavy and his pleasure-hazed mind refused to be scandalized. He turned on his side, leaned his forehead between Speirs’ shoulder blades, and then he was asleep. The sun was up once again when Lipton came to. The bed was empty and the room felt unrecognizable from the night before, too small and its walls too grey and barren to have witnessed anything as bizarre as what had happened in the small hours. Despite his disorientation, Lipton was certain it had happened. For a second he lay there, letting realization sink in and waited for the panic, the regret or the shock to come, except none of it did. Everything was still the same, only maybe somehow better. Lipton pushed himself to sit up and realized how much better he truly did feel this morning. He was no longer aching in every place and his head was clear. He wasn’t shivering anymore either, only slightly sluggish and tired like he had fought something off with great effort. Just his throat felt like sandpaper, and he gave a dry cough. Speirs was up in a flash, and only then Lipton noticed that he was still in the room, just instead of the bed he was sitting cross-legged on the bedroll he hadn’t used. He was fully dressed again and discarded a map he had been holding and picked up his canteen, then strolled over to the bed and dropped to sit down next to Lipton. “You need to drink,” Speirs said, handing his canteen over. Wordlessly Lipton took it, lifted it to his lips and took a drink of cold water. He felt absolutely parched and once he started to drink, he couldn’t stop. Greedily he gulped the cold water down until he had drained the whole canteen, and when with a sigh he looked down again he found Speirs watching him. Speirs accepted his canteen back and screwed the lid shut without once looking away from Lipton, who stared back just as steadily. Speirs’ eyes looked directly back at him, but his face was blank, giving away nothing. Lipton didn’t even know what he was looking or waiting for, maybe a sign of some sort, an acknowledgement of what had taken place between them the previous night, something, anything that indicated that something had changed. They sat in that silence for an unnatural amount of time, so long that just the unflinching stare became a sign of its own. Something had happened, something irreversible and intimate, something way out of line that couldn’t even be mentioned in daylight, perhaps anywhere ever again. They just peered at each other, green eyes to brown, both wide open and searching. Vulnerable. “How are you feeling, Lieutenant?” Speirs finally asked. Lipton let several beats of silence pass. “I feel good, sir.”

[ranier-layarte]

LONG Character Survey: Ranier Leveilleur

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Ranier Kyran Layarte Leveilleur

NICKNAME: Ran, Raven

AGE: 21-25 (depending on expac)

BIRTHDAY: 1st Sun of the 2nd astral moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Au ra (Xaela)

NATIONALITY: Eorzean – From Ul'dah

LANGUAGE(S): Eorzean,

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: No

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Isn't this the same as the above?

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married

CLASS: Weapon Master

• Proficient in almost all martial weapons.

• Tends to carry multiple weapons at all times.

• Prefers Axes out of all the bladed weaponry

HOMETOWN / AREA: Ul'dah

CURRENT HOMETOWN/ AREA: Shirogane Mansion

PROFESSION(S): WoL, Scion, Machinist, Businessman, Crafter

PHYSICAL: Extremely fit, exercises daily. Muscular build

HAIR: Black/Dark Blue

EYES: Crimson

NOSE: Average, straight, roman-esque

FACE: Straight essentially a greek nose. (At least if I had to try and describe it)

LIPS: A bit on the thinner side, very lightly pink.

COMPLEXION: A mix of Fair and Medium?

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Scar on left thigh from stab wound, Scar on left midsection, and upper right thigh.

TATTOOS: WoL tattoo on the palm of his right hand. (Working on giving him another)

HEIGHT: 7'4

WEIGHT: 330 LBS/ 150kg

BUILD: Tall, Muscular, Fit,

FEATURES: None

ALLERGIES: None, at least not yet.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair parted in the middle framing the face. Pulled into a ponytail and held with a silver bead big enough for the tail.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Around 40% expressionless, 30% Scowling, 20% Reflective, 10% happy.

USUAL CLOTHING: Higher end clothing generally a mix of casual with formal preferring long pants and a short sleeved shirt. Boots of some kind and armor of some kind at all times. Either under or over the clothes having a preference for the bulkier armors.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Dying and thereby becoming unable to prevent future deaths and incidents. A fear of the unknown. (Which is part of why he tries to prepare for so many things)

ASPIRATION(S): Being able to amass enough wealth to live comfortably and to continue making the lives of the less fortunate easier. Helping create a better society for all.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, Compassionate, Humanitarian, Perseverance, Fairness, Courageous, Loving, Self discipline, Reliable, Thoughtful, Patient

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bossy, Jealous, Secretive, Grumpy, Harsh, Aloof, Stubborn, Cruel (Only to enemies but that doesn't really matter to people does it?) Arrogant (In some things though less now)

ZODIAC: Pisces

TEMPERAMENT: Mix of choleric and melancholic.

SOUL TYPE(S):  King, Warrior, Server (In that order)

ANIMALS: Raven, Bear

VICE HABIT(S): Training, Fixing machines, Drinking, Rubbing Chin, 

FAITH: The Twelve (Loosely)

GHOSTS?: I mean if you've seen them you can't deny them.

AFTERLIFE?: With everything we see there has to be right?

REINCARNATION?: Yes, it's clear there is.

ALIENS?: Yes.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Leftist

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Prosperous, everyone has what they need. Along with the means to go beyond that if they are willing and able.

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: I think there’s enough to go on.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Higher end of the spectrum, attended sharlayan schooling for a few years of his life. (Around three) Was home taught and by other teachers. Extensive knowledge in numerous subjects such as Machinery, Technology, Gunsmithing, Gemology, Business. Holding the equivalent of a mixture of Graduate or Masters in the subjects.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Kyran Layarte

MOTHER: Sahar Layarte

SIBLINGS: Kyari Layarte

EXTENDED FAMILY:

NAME MEANING(S): Ranier (Rainier with out the first I Meaning Wise army apparently)Kyran (Beam of Light) Sahar (Early morning or Dawn) Kyari (???)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: My families connection to history? My connection? My father was one of the survivors of the hotgo tribe also. Does fighting in the Calamity among all the other events count?

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Whatever has his current interest, it can very.

MOVIE PLAY: Does this mean Movie or Play?

5 SONGS:

• “Shock me” Baroness

• “Up In The Air” Thirty Seconds To Mars

• “Rise” League of Legends, Glitch Mob, The Word Alive

• “Unbreakable” Of Mice and Men

• “Drown” Bring Me The Horizon

DEITY: Halone

HOLIDAY: Valentione's day

MONTH: March

SEASON: Fall

PLACE: Beside his wife or workshop.

WEATHER: Light rain

SOUND: The turning of pages, the sound of rain, metal moving against each other.

SCENT(S): Smoke, Metal, Old books, and sweat

TASTE(S):  Dulcet, Spicy,

FEEL(S): Rocks, Silk, Smooth metals,

ANIMAL(S): This was listed before.

NUMBER: 1? I don't know.

COLORS: Black, Blue, Red, Gold, Silver

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Metalworking, Singing, Sewing, Gem Cutting, Technology, Smithing, Machinery, Dexterous.

BAD AT: Getting rest even now, Not over exerting himself, Not overthinking potential scenarios that may never happen. Dealing with almost all animals, Even now sometimes talking about what bothers him too well, but he’s gotten much better over the years/expansions.

TURN ONS: Caring, Helpful, Courageous, Educated, Aggressive. Listening, Reliable, 

TURN OFFS: Selfishness, Boastful, Belligerent, Cruelty, Intolerant, Racism, Weak willed, Careless,

HOBBIES: Creating new things be it machines, armor, clothes, weapons, tools, etc. Working on the same as before. Reading, Exercising, Cooking. Shopping.

TROPES: Pragmatic Hero, Bad ass boast, Big Fancy House, Chekhov's Gun, Determinator, Don't You Dare Pity Me, Genius Bruiser, Heroic Build, It's All My Fault, No Challenge Equals No Satisfaction, Super toughness, Friend to All Children, The Chosen One, The Ace, Ain't Too Proud To Beg, Always Save The Girl, Berserk Button, Death glare, Excuse me while I multi task, Game face, Hypocrite, Lady and Knight, Not So Stoic, Not So Invincible After all, Red Eyes, Take Warning, Stern Teacher, Undying Loyalty, The Power of Love

AESTHETIC TAGS: Workshops, Tools, Kitchens, Weaponry, Guns, Armor, Fine Clothes, Rain, Feathers, Azure Skies, Romance.

VOICE CLAIM(S): Keith Silverstein, (Speaking voice) John Rzeznik (Singing) John Baizley (Singing)

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): Free company? Azure Talons.

ALT FC(S): What?

OLDER FC(S): What?

YOUNGER  FC(S): What?

GENDERBENT FC(S): What the fuck?

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

• I genuinely don’t know. Something with the grandeur of lord of the rings maybe? But with the ability to add comedy and romance in the proper way. I'm all for serious movies but I enjoy the ability to add a well executed joke or sweet moment. It also would probably not just be a single film. Taking the general events and using my fics as material would probably be fine.

I’d have to think about it a lot more than I will right now

As for the name, well, I don't really have many options. But, probably something with Final Fantasy XIV as the main title. Give it a JRPG title I suppose as a sub title. Sort of like Warriors Dissonance or Uncovered Stories.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

• Ambient, switching to full of energy, able to convey emotion. Again mentioning LOTR, the score by Howard shore is really great and able to accompany many scenes in such a fantastic manner. As for the other bits perhaps the addition of artist tracks such as from favorite bands and those songs that have meaning to him. Like the ones listed above. 

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

• As a way to work on and show that, a character doesn't just have to be overly reliant on tropes and cliches. That those are good as part of them but not as defining traits of them. Along with breaking some of those. Like how all protagonists always have dead parents, what's up with that? I enjoy seeing characters that try to break their molds and be more than that.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

• My general thing in any game where you can create your own character has always been. To make who you'd want to be in this universe. I did that and then worked on it and reworked things until I got what I have now. So also, yes, he was a self insert.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

• Hard one I suppose but. I'd say how he is capable of doing so much. Even though I work with it as it is a key part of him, it's still hard to make him feel right, feel human when he's got these clear incredible strengths. He's very proficient at so many things some would maybe say he's a mary sue type of character. I make an effort to work on how he became that way to offset it. So it's a lot of extra work than if I had him being a more archetypal hero of his type. I may dislike this the most but I also like it. Love hate relationship you know?

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

• A good part of our attitudes and personality though on his end they are greater generally. Along with our want to be as best as we can at certain things. 

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

• Honestly, and in my current state. He would probably be very upset with me and to just know me or the hand I have in his creation and self.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

• Alisaie Leveilleur – She is the main one being his main love interest, girlfriend, and wife later. Though overall he sees her as an equal and a partner, which is part of the reason their relationship grows as much as it does. Along with giving someone who he can trust in and rely on, and vice versa.

• Finn Hogveart - Who harasses Ranier often enough especially with his pet and regarding moogles.

• Alphinaud Leveilleur - and him sometimes get along strangely due to Ranier's relationship with his sister. For a long time he tried to spy on Ranier and make sure he was good for his sister even though he knew he was a good person.

•  Cid Garlond - Ranier sees him as a mentor of sorts, along with someone that he can bounce ideas off of and work with on projects leading to a solid relationship between the two. The two sometimes bicker regarding their work but it's always just them being passionate for the projects.

• Gerolt Blackthorn – Similar to cid in some ways. Ranier looks up to Gerolt and his ability to continue making such amazing creations. Wanting to learn more regarding the processes means Ranier visits him when possible, bringing some drinks for him when he does. Almost having a relationship like bros. Ranier also sometimes has gone to try and sway Rowena on his behalf to lower his debt.

There are more but I don’t want to make this too much longer.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?

• I do not control the write, also Alisaie.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

Uhhhh maybe an hour all together. Over the course of three hours.

==========

Tagged by: @amandafullmetal​ @lyllyan-weiss

Tagging: @heyafinney​ @anikisbox​ and anyone who wants to do it that sees this.

[silkkpopbonnetpartdeux]

Jinyoung Park as a Boyfriend

-Both in personality and zodiac. Jinyoung is a Virgo.

-Style critiquing.

“No, no I forbid it. This is the second day you’ve worn those jeans, take them off. Where’s the black pair I bought you?”

-You are dating one of the best-dressed men in GOT7. Seriously, his sense of style is impeccable. Prepare to be dressed up.

 -This means couple outfits. Or at least matching colors. 

 “Jagi, where’s the outfit I picked?”      

 “Jinyoung, we’re going bowling!”

*Looks down at his slacks and button-up shirt tucked in* “So?”

-A gentleman. He holds doors open, pulls out your chair, holds your hand while crossing streets and makes sure you stand away from the street. All with an attitude.

“Babe.” *Exasperated groans while he moves you away from the street* “You could hit by a car! Do you want me to be a widower?”

-As a Virgo Jinyoung is kind, loyal and hardworking. He pays close attention to the smallest details, what a perk in a relationship! His sign is one of the most caring signs.

-Considers himself a prince.

-So he treats you like a princess. No joke, Jinyoung will shower you with love and affection. That Fendi bag you had an eye on? Yours. Dinner by candlelight while Jaebum sings in the background? Done. No need of yours is too great.

-On the other hand, he will push you hard and become your personal coach in any and everything. He expects greatness from you. He’s hard on himself and you might have to remind him not to be so hard on you.

“Jinyoung, I’m not like you, this is the best I can do.”

           “You aren’t, but I know you’re capable of more. Do better.”

-A little possessive. Anyone outside of GOT7 who touches you or talks to you too familiar is getting a glare.

-No cheating. Jinyoung gives 100% in a relationship. He makes time and effort for you. He looks at only you. You better be looking at only him.

   “What are you looking at?”

             “He has a nice sweater, looks comfy.”

*side-eyes you* “I’d look good in that sweater too, look at my sweater.”

-Jinyoung is a cute asshole. He can be a jerk, rude, and always savage. But he’s yours, won’t let you forget it, and he always says he’s sorry when he knows he has taken it too far.

-Jaebum is his best friend. Jaebum is now your best friend. Mark is a suitable replacement. Never hang out with BamBam and Yugyeom alone, they are children and he will discipline you. 

-Enjoys scaring you. Doesn’t matter where you are, he’ll wander off and hide just to hear you scream.

-Laughs for a week about how you nearly fell out the shower because he was hiding in the bathroom closet.

-Tells Jackson about it. Who tells Mark. Who tells CoCo and Youngjae. Gets to Jaebum through Mark. Yugyeom and BamBam hear about it from Youngjae and CoCo.

-Everyone is in on it now. It becomes a ritual.

-Pranking Yugeyom is a must. No, he’s not being too mean. 

-Also beating up on Yugyeom. When Yugy isn’t around BamBam will be substituted. 

“Jinyoung…maybe that’s too much oil on the floor? We’re not trying to kill him.”       *chuckles* “We might be.”

-The sign of Virgo leads Venus to its fall. It speaks of Virgo’s inability to feel worthy or beautiful and sometimes lovable. He’s hard on himself, he can be shy and he worries a lot. Jinyoung needs you to show him love, and most of all make him feel safe. Security in a relationship leads him to be more open with you.

-Which means Jinyoung has a hard time trusting. He needs to feel stability before moving on to a sexual relationship. Don’t give him a reason to doubt. Listen to his concerns, show intimacy. He gives it little by little.

-Subtle Skinship. He’s the type to hold your hand in public. Gentle kisses in the kitchen when the guys aren’t around.

-When he wants to be with you, it’s for a long time. He’s the type to want something forever. He doesn’t jump from relationship to relationship because he can. When he says he wants you, rest assured he’s thought about this for a long time, talked about it with Jaebum (who was with Youngjae so he gave an input as well)

-When he falls for you, he’s falling hard. He’s committed to this, committed to you. He now thinks in terms of us. We. He plans ahead to make sure things work out right, prepare for his five-year plan. Baby making comes after marriage and before year 5.

-TBH, he probably already thought of you as his, he just never said anything because he assumed you did as well.

*Introducing you to some people he knows* “This is my girlfriend, Y/N”

   *Cardi B surprised look* “Yea, his girlfriend.”

*Jinyoung smiling because he knows he caught you off guard, but you like this idea.*

-Quiet moments with him are perfect. You’re finally alone in the dorm. Jinyoung is reading a book, your feet are on his lap while you’re scrolling through Twitter. He doesn’t say anything, just starts rubbing your foot. Then he clears his throat, and you look up at him, looking at you.

“I love you.”

     “I love you too.”

*Smacks your thigh* “You need a pedicure let’s go.”

-Did you forget he was a savage? Never forget it. You are not exempt.

-He will roast you, your sister and her messy front lace, your brother’s ashy knees. Do not come for him.

-King of comebacks.

-Born under the sign of Virgo, Jinyoung is an excellent advisor and always knows how to solve a problem. The downside to this is, he will find a problem and fix it as well.

-Just like a Virgo, he’ll put a cool front at all times as well. Under that is a raging torrent that he’s keeping calm because he’s all about appearances.

“Aren’t you mad? Jinyoung!”

  “I am, but I’m being classy about it.”

-He’s romantic because you bring it out of him. Y’all are at the point where he can be that smooth ladies man that BamBam thinks he is.

-Shows off dancing for you. Then it gets serious because he sees the look on your face. He starts to slow it down.

-Uses them hips. He was the one who taught JB to be a daddy.

-Probably read about it in a book

-Teases you just to hear you beg.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

    *groans*

“Use your words and I’ll take off the rope.”

-Sensual, exciting kisses. The type that are punctuated by lip bites.

-He enjoys slow sex. The kind where it starts off with kisses and touches and then he’s on top of you, telling you to beg him for it.

-Loves to hear you beg. He loves to watch you writhe under him. Listening to your moans are like music to him.

All in all, Jinyoung is the classiest, sweetest, cuddliest, and most annoying boyfriend you ever had and ever will have. It’s probably gonna lead to marriage, something out of an anime. Happily ever after, as he scares you during the honeymoon , but tries to get into your panties after.

[mass-effect-galaxy]

Joan’s Song 5: The Spectre

“Commander Shepard, It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. 

Spectres are not trained but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file. 

Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will.

Spectres bear a great burden. They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold.

You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species.”

“I am honored, Councilors”, Shepard said. ‘About time’, she thought

The ceremony felt somewhat make-shift and was a bit of a disappointment to Shepard. Of course, with Saren the Council had a rouge spectre running around the Traverse, attacking human settlements at will. Even worse, the Council had known of it, did not warn the Alliance, and had failed miserably in solving the problem by sending Nihlus after Saren. The least the Council could do now was giving a human spectre status to hunt down Saren.   

One advantage of being a spectre was free housing on the Citadel. Shepard had expected a room in the C-Sec barracks. She wasn’t prepared for a two-story apartment in the Tiberius Towers. It was furnished tailored for a human; however, Shepard didn’t like the style: several separate living areas with leather couches, two bars, an office with a poker-table and a fireplace, a completely impractical open kitchen (she wouldn’t be cooking much here, but still). The dining area had a giant table, but someone had removed the chairs. There was not a single spot she would label as “cozy”. This was the home of a middle-aged male human single. A lot of work to do. At least she would be able to do something herself about the disturbing giant paintings on both floors. 

Technically, Shepard’s assignment to the Normandy was concluded with her being appointed a spectre. In Council Space, she would now be outranking Captain Anderson anyways. Someone already had brought over Shepard’s things from the Normandy. Her bags and boxes were piled next to the entrance; as were Kaidan’s and Ashley’s. Already from the cap that brought them here, Shepard had called Admiral Hackett and asked for both being placed under her command, her personal “spectre team”. By chance, the apartment had three bedrooms and would now be their home and headquarters.

There was an additional set of packages on one of the couches. “Christmas!”, Ashley shouted and sat down unpacking the first one. Shepard liked her that way: Ashley had dropped a lot of the diffidence she had shown on Eden Prime in Shepard’s presence. It had not fitted her. That package revealed a red overall with dark boxes on the shoulders, legs, and the back. An armor. It looked ridiculously. Shepard touched one of the boxes and the hard-cups extracted. Now it was lacquered-black with a red under-armor. “I think, I stick to Alliance colors”, Shepard said. “You bet, Commander”, replied Kaidan unpacking another package. It held a folded rifle. Shepard took it and pushed the button to unfold the weapon. It was a black assault rifle with the red spectre-wings and the designation “HMWA VII” stamped into its butt. The other parcels contained the respective sniper rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol. “Just one set. I’ll requisition yours as soon as possible.”, Shepard promised. 

Kaidan went out for the evening, a date with some doctor from the Citadel.  “Or maybe, he has some itching he doesn’t wanna talk about and needs an excuse to see the doctor?”, Ashley joked. She and Shepard were at the bar in the room with the big screen on the wall. Shepard was checking the little refrigerator beneath the bar. “You dig up anything useful down there, Ma’am?”, Ashley asked. “Scotch, Tizza, and ice. Sounds like ‘Acrturus Shots’ to me.”, Shepard replied. “Shoot, Skipper.”

A few shots later, Ashley said, “Proper way to celebrate Armistice Day, isn't it?” Shepard had no idea what Ashley was talking about. “Armistice Day?”. “Yeah, First Contact War, you remember. We always celebrate it in our family.” Ashley sounded sad. “Really? I know, my father fought there, in a unit with Hackett and Anderson. What about your family;  lost anyone to the birds?” “Shepard, I am Ashley Williams.” Shepard shrugged, confused. “General Thomas Williams granddaughter.” “Shanxi-Williams?” Shepard blurted that out and immediately regretted it. “Sorry, that was unkind.” “It’s okay, Shepard. I am the offspring of a traitor.” “Ashley, listen”, Shepard said, “your grandfather's tactics were sound, and by surrendering in time, he saved countless lives. He was no traitor, the admirals just needed someone to shift the blame to.” Ashley blushed, “that’s kind of you. He would have liked that. After all, you are a hero: Akuze, Elysium, Torfan.” 

An awkward moment of silence followed. Then, Shepard said, “I am not a hero, I am a monster.” Ashley resisted the impulse to answer. This sounded serious. “On Torfan, I should have surrendered. The Alliance certainly would had paid any ransom for us. Maybe, the animals had executed me, but the others had lived.” Shepard suddenly realized that she personally was responsible for Jan’s death - not the batarians, not Major Kyle, not Admiral Hackett. ‘It was me!’ “Instead, I chose to fight. I killed the prisoners, I had my men been slaughtered, and I have blown up a compound full with our people. All for nothing but my damned selfish pride.” She trembled. ‘I am sorry. I am so sorry.’ 

Ashley came closer. She laid a hand on Shepard’s leg. “Jo, listen.”, it was the first time she called Shepard that way. Her grief turned into butterflies in her stomach. “Whatever decision you made, whatever you did or didn’t do, was bound to happen. It brought you to the place you are now. And this is the place where the Galaxy needs you.” This was one of those moments that had to come to a kiss. “Right now, I need you just by me”, said Shepard bending forward to kiss Ashley. 

Ashley didn’t open her mouth to return the kiss. Shepard backed off. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to..., I thought...” she stuttered. “This is unexpected. I am seriously flattered, Jo. But I am really not into girls, I mean, ‘that way’.” Shepard nudged her, “Hey, I am not ‘girls’, I am Commander Shepard.” This somewhat saved the situation. They drank the last shot in silence. Shepard was the first to speak again, “Ash, I would understand if you’d feel uncomfortable serving under me now. If that’s the case, please be straight with me. I’ll arrange for another posting; a proper command with the Fleet, of course, no more garrison duties for you. I’ll promise” Ashley shook her head, “Skipper, I don’t know where this journey takes us, but I’d be proud to be a part of it. I cannot rest from travel. I will drink Life to the lees.” “You read poetry?” Shepard was genuinely surprised. “I have a degree in English Literature”, Ashley replied with pride. Shepard opened and closed her mouth. “Really?” “Yeah, Online. But don’t spread it around.”

Shepard woke up with a slight hangover. She took a pill against it. Once her head was clear again, she changed into sport tights and -shirt, both with N7-emblem. She could use some jogging but the “fitness room” of this apartment was lacking a treadmill. She checked her omnitool, but it seems there were no gyms for humans or asari on the Silversun Strip, only a fight-club for turians. Sparing would be nice, but to turians, it was part of their sexuality - and she was not interested in a bird fluttering on her back. Jogging in the streets was forbidden on the Citadel. Only humans did that for sports and it always caused a stir with the other species. Finally, she went for some rounds against the punching bag in the lower bedroom. This was supposed to be Kaidan’s room, but he obviously had not slept here. ‘Luckier than me, Alenko?’, she thought while going through a sequence of roundhouse-kicks.

When Shepard was back in her room, Anderson called her. She put him on the big screen over her bed. Anderson frowned seeing Shepard still in sport dress. “What’s that, Commander, one day off the leash and all discipline has gone? This is no shore leave! Saren is still out there and he is up to no good.” “Yes, Sir, understood. Any leads from the Council.” She heard the showers from Ashley’s bathroom. This sound caused Anderson to frown again. After all, it already was 0830. “Indeed, the aliens came around with a certain ‘Martriach Benezia’. She is working for Saren. She has a daughter by the name of Dr. Liara T’Soni, who is, and that’s interesting, an expert on the protheans.” “That must be our link to the prothean artifacts”, Shepard concluded. She had not talked with anyone about the vision from Eden Prime. Instead, she had drawn the alien that had ‘spoken’ to her and compared her image with the few artistic depictions from prothean times on the extranet. They were matching; even though most of them got the skin color wrong. “So, you want me to get that asari and use her against her mother?”, she asked Anderson. “Shepard, you are a spectre now. Only thing I can do is set you on the trail. What you do or don’t do is up to you. That’s the point with having independent spectres. There is one other thing though”, Anderson launched his omnitool, “You take the Normandy, I am transmitting the command codes to you.” Shepard protested, “That’s not right, Sir. The Normandy is yours.” “Commander, the Normandy is not mine, she belongs to the Alliance. And when the Alliance says you get her, you get her. Besides, she was specifically designed for operations like these.” “Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down.” 

Time to go hunting asari.

The apartment hadn’t changed since Kai Leng was last here, and security in the Tiberius Towers still was a joke. He started his tour by checking the refrigerator. Someone has been making pancakes. Two were left on a plate. Kai Leng picked the plate and started to eat while moving on. Shepard had left most of her personal items here. There was a holographic easel in the office. He launched it and went through her pictures. Most either showed planet-sites or were portraits of other women. They were good on a technical level, but Kai Leng wouldn’t call them ‘artistic’. One was a nude self-portrait of Shepard: a rather slim woman, he would have expected her to be more muscled. He copied that one to his omnitool. The very recent one caught his attention too: a blue alien with four eyes. “A prothean”, he mumbled. He copied that one as well. Time to check the upper floor. In the bathroom, he found a bottle of “Oceans of Illium”, a fragrance preferred by asari prostitutes. It contained pheromones that attracted other asari but didn’t work on humans. ‘So, that little pervert likes them blue too.’, he thought. The bottle was still sealed, though. After having eaten the pancakes Kai Leng used Shepard’s brush for his teeth. Afterwards, he cleaned the brush in the toilette. Leaving the plate in the bathroom, he checked on the wardrobes. Not surprisingly, there were only a few clothes. One revealed an N7 hoodie, similar to his own, a spectre armor, and a red Apex armor that had been in use by security forces on Elysium before the Blitz. A drawer held some underwear; only black and white, nothing special. He took a white sport thong as a trophy. Lying on Shepard's bed, he went through the recordings of his surveillance bugs. Afterwards, he called the Illusive Man, “Sir, you were right about the protheans. She is now heading for the Artemis Tau Cluster.” “Anything about the reapers?”, the Illusive Man demanded to know. “No, Sir. No one has mentioned them so far.”

[southeastasianists]

As the sun arcs high above the sacred mountain citadel of Oudong, the white-robed women who call the Vipassana Dhura Meditation Centre home are preparing a midday meal for the monks. In Cambodia’s wet season, the shanty town of wooden huts lining the shaded alleyways strung between the compound’s gilded halls hosts more than 400 daun chi, lay women whose close-cropped hair and crisp white robes declare their dedication to a life of service, prayer and meditation. Today, there are just half that number.

Withered beyond her 73 years, Eang Oeurn has nowhere left to go. In 1976, a year after the fall of Phnom Penh to the ultra-Maoist Khmer Rouge, her daughter was taken by the cadres to fight as a child soldier. Ten long years later, after Oeurn had given her up for dead, her daughter sent out a call asking her family to reunite in Anlong Veng, where the last remnants of the Khmer Rouge were waging a bloody guerrilla war against the Vietnam-backed government. For more than a decade, her family worked the land given to them by the notorious ‘Butcher’ Ta Mok until the final collapse of the regime in the dying days of the 20th century.

“After the war I felt empty,” Oeurn said, her eyes hidden behind black wraparound sunglasses. “My husband was killed, some of my close family were killed, and it left me with six children to support. Now they’re grown up, and they have their own families. So I came here.”

As the daun chi carry their laden trays into the dining hall, a gaggle of young boys flits between their feet, white cloth bags slung over their bony shoulders. Although their vestments may resemble those of the ageing women, their spiritual lives are just beginning: once their command of the ancient Pali tongue is more advanced, they shall join the ranks of the saffron-clad monks now streaming into the hall to be served. For the handful of young women who come to the centre in search of a religious vocation, though, the habit of a fully ordained monk in the Theravada tradition – and the respect that it commands – remains frustratingly out of reach.

“It’s more accessible to boys,” Oeurn said. “Women come here usually around 20, 30 years old – some of those come here because of a broken heart. And others are serious about the dharma and meditation, so they come and learn.”

Long a centre for learning and education in even the most remote Cambodian communities, pagodas or wats continue to attract young men and boys looking to expand their knowledge and, for some, pursue a life-long vocation as one of the sacred monks – or bhikkhu – that still comprise much of the nation’s spiritual and intellectual elite. But Buddhism scholar John Amos Marston, who co-edited History, Buddhism and New Religious Movements in Cambodia, said for most girls contemplating a life of learning and prayer, the same opportunities simply do not exist.

“I think there is nothing really parallel to this for young women,” he told Southeast Asia Globe. “Public education eliminates part of the logic for boys and young men becoming novices or bhikkhu. But there are still some boys and young men who in some sense complete their education by going to the wat. So the boys are socialised in different ways than the girls – and this does sometimes have advantages to them.”

Preah Sihanouk Raja Buddhist University vice-rector Khy Sovanratana, who said he was generally supportive of the idea of female ordination, told Southeast Asia Globe that many Cambodian families did not place the same importance on girls’ education as they did on the education of their sons.

“It has long been accepted in the family that boys should receive more education than girls,” he said. “And there have been efforts and changing minds among some families that women should also receive more education. But in terms of ordination, it’s still a far way off – the families themselves aren’t really demanding that their children become female novices or fully ordained monks. I don’t see any kind of push from their families.”

A former vendor who now teaches Vipassana meditation at the centre said that the life of a lay devotee was largely seen not as a pathway to power and knowledge but as a last resort for women forced from the outside world by age, illness or tragedy.

“We need young people to carry on these teachings,” she said. “Now we get some young ladies, but the problem is they’re not all coming to learn about the Buddhist religion – some of them have mental disorders and some have been in traffic accidents. They’re hopeless, so we start to teach them the meaning of life and how to be calm and present. When they have a calm mind, all the bad spirits go away.”

Marston said that while places such as Vipassana Dhura were placing more and more importance on education for the women who reside there, many wats across Cambodia – the majority of which lack the support of the wealthy businesspeople who sustain the Oudong centre’s development – continued to treat daun chi more as caretakers than clergy.

“There are growing numbers of wats where daun chi are given special training in Buddhism and meditation,” he said. “But it gets complicated, because some women use their residence at a wat as a kind of retirement plan. In at least some wats, they are seen more as servants of the monks.”

As someone who made no bones about her own pragmatic reasons for taking the white robe of the daun chi, Oeurn was blunt in her appraisal of the type of women her vocation attracted.

“I don’t see any young women becoming daun chi here – only old ladies who can’t work,” she said. “They don’t have anything to survive on, so they come here to seek refuge and get food and learn the dharma.”

For at least one daun chi at Vipassana Dhura, though, the simple life of a daun chi called her for a different reason. Having struggled to live by the five holy precepts followed by observant Buddhist laypeople throughout her young life, Dim Soriya put on the white robe at the age of 20 to help her follow the teachings of the Buddha. Three years later, as she watches her younger brothers take their first steps on the path to ordination, she continues to be frustrated by her inability to join them.

“I’m interested in becoming a monk, but there’s no law in Buddhism for female monks as before,” she said. “When the Buddha was alive there were female monks, but now there are only men. For me, I am really tempted to be a monk.”

As the spiritual leaders of the community, the words and actions of Cambodia’s monks continue to carry immense weight in the Buddhist kingdom – a respect that Soriya said was never given to the white-robed women who serve them.

“The level of respect is totally different. Monks have always been considered as very superior and very noble,” she said. “Monks are a ten, and we’re a two. The only difference between normal people and us is that we practice more discipline and wear white. That’s all that makes us different.”

Even when the Buddha was alive, his blood aunt had to beg him to become a female monk. And he refused so many times

While monks are forbidden to cook or handle money, relying on their daily alms rounds and the kindness of strangers to furnish them with all they need, daun chi are left to carry out the bulk of the labour at wats, interspersing their lessons – if they have them – with the rote chores of cooking, cleaning and providing sustenance both for themselves and the monks.

“Monks have time, the whole day, to fully carry out and practise the rules and disciplines, because they don’t do anything else – they don’t do the chores and housework,” Soriya said.

Chand Sirimanne, a researcher at the University of Sydney’s department of studies in religion, said that female devotees enjoyed few of the same privileges afforded to their male superiors.

“They have very few rights and no support system – for example, if you’re a fully ordained monk or a nun, there’s a temple that looks after you and a whole lay community who feeds you and provides you with all your needs,” she said.

Although female monastic orders existed in the Theravada tradition for centuries after the death of the Buddha, the line was severed in the 11th century in Sri Lanka amid widespread famine and war. Even before that, women hoping to be ordained were tasked with dozens more strictures than their male counterparts, including pledges of subservience to even the lowest bhikkhu. For centuries, many pious Buddhist women have been told that their best hope of a holy life was to build up enough karma through good deeds to be reborn as a man after their death.

Phann Ratana, a 51-year-old daun chi who left behind the life of a garment worker to find peace in the teachings of the Buddha, said that the reason women could no longer be ordained as monks is that there were no longer any female monks to ordain them.

“There won’t be any rebirth – it’s impossible,” she said. “Nobody will be able to do it – even when the Buddha was alive, his blood aunt had to beg him to become a female monk. And he refused so many times. Even after she became a monk, there were many, many strict rules to being a female monk. I don’t think it’s something which will come back.”

While female ordination movements are gaining momentum in other Theravada countries such as neighbouring Thailand, the organised push for a bhikkhuni restoration in Cambodia seems to have stalled with the dissolution of internationally funded NGOs such as the Association for Nuns and Laywomen. Neither would Sri Lanka’s solution, which involved bringing Mahayana bhikkhuni from Taiwan in the late ’90s to resurrect the ordination of local women, be welcomed with open arms by Cambodia’s conservative monastic community, or sangha.

“I personally think that empowering the daun chi as daun chi can be almost as effective as creating an order of bhikkhuni,” Marston said. “Of course, individual women have to decide for themselves how important it is to actually become bhikkhuni. What’s important is that women who have a spiritual vocation find a respected way of pursuing that vocation.”

Sovanratana argued that it was up to the Kingdom’s Buddhist leaders – and the ruling Cambodian People’s Party – to judge whether the time was right to let women once again into the fold.

“There’s still a long way to go until there’s any consensus among the sangha leaders here and also from the state as well,” he said. “It rests upon all of us, especially the Theravada leaders, to see which [option] is more appropriate and try to encourage and support the admission of women into the bhikkhuni sangha if they think that it is for the benefit of Buddhism – and for the benefit of humanity. And it’s not about Buddhism or about the Buddha’s teaching – that was a long time ago. It rests upon the present Theravada leaders.”

For Soriya, though, the obstacles to her lifelong dream of devoting her body and soul to the Buddha seem almost insurmountable.

“Some people say that if we [women] can’t live by those rules, it could be bad for our image – it could destroy the whole religion,” she said. “[The supreme patriarch of Cambodia] once stated that we cannot allow having female monks, otherwise they’re going to degrade the religion. It’s impossible. I have no hope.”