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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 4 years ago

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31 Days of Apex Legends

Little bit behind, but I combined Days 1 & 2 (Pride & Friendship)

Chapter 1 of an upcoming fic I am still writing.

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Title: Pride & Assumed Prejudice

Chapter 1: Masks

Something sour lingered on the tip of his tongue, on the razor’s edge of every thought; like a granule of poison sinking slowly into a beverage, unseen as the hapless victim takes a sip. Unnecessary, unnerving, and oddly enough, inducing a curiously debilitating sensation of anxiety for the first time in well over a decade. An emotion long-ago thought cordoned off, and utterly aggravating in its resurgence.

One could theoretically shut it out with enough mental fortitude and regimented distraction, but this tended to only provide short-term relief, for it always returned; faster, stronger, more pervasive than the last time. A creeping sense of wrongness that seemed to seep through every vein, clutching tightly to each breath as it worked to enter his lungs, twisting his stomach at random intervals, and reigniting old memories best left buried in unmarked graves. Unmourned and unwelcome.

At least, that is what Caustic tells himself.

There seems to be some level of psychological impairment at work, he rationalises in the depths of the night when he can barely think for the voiceless fears that make his heart race and air withdraw from ravaged lungs before it can fully impart its gift. The only hypothesis that makes even the vaguest sense is that there is likely a chemical agent of some kind, a poison, being introduced into some facet of his daily routine that is affecting his mental faculties?

Caustic is perplexed to find that his bloodwork runs clean each time, as do random samples of his food stores, lab equipment, clothing, cleaning products, furniture, air filtration units, plants and even toothpaste. Though he runs them often, at random, in hopes of locating the culprit for these uncomfortable sensations, these distractions from his research. Randomising events on his mental schedule each day in order to avoid any other human or non-organic being from identifying his routine again; if they ever even had. And yet, it persists.

Denial is perhaps the only shield that he will not admit to using, in this instance. Though for all his great logic, his knowledge and emphatic belief in the fundamental laws of science… there is still a strange feeling that persists in coursing through his veins. If he would allow himself but a moment to acknowledge it, to let it in and experience the sensation then it may lead to a breakthrough… but at what cost? If the facade falls, then who would he be?

Yet still his whole body feels electrified from within; as if sensing a change coming, like the increased atmospheric pressure before a thunderstorm. Everything that had been built was starting to decay, and it was not clear why now, why this year… why this ridiculous event was the catalyst. Even though such an obvious connection between this heightened emotional state and the particular time of year never actually occurred to the unnaturally overwrought man.

As the days between the present and the event grew shorter, and the other Legends began to ramp up their ridiculous displays of personal expression, the odd physiological effects increased exponentially, until simply existing in the same dwelling had become almost unbearable. It was merely because the others were younger, more prone to ludicrous displays of ebullience, constantly impeding his research with their tomfoolery… yes, that must be it. The reassurances ring hollow, even to his own mind.

Yet still the simple fact remained… that the year previous, as a new Legend, this whole event had been laughably easy to ignore. So why did it bring such distress, such melancholy? What variable had changed between these two points in time that was bringing this insidious juggernaut of disruption to his mind, body and experiment schedule?

Despite what he, at the time, perceived as his best efforts to provide a front of general indifference and borderline contempt for the ‘nonsensical festivities’ of the majority of the other Legends; it became apparent that these actions were not nearly enough to stave off the eyes of the irritating coworkers. Without even realising, Caustic was shrinking away, becoming distant once more and this, in turn, naturally raised a few eyebrows.

Certainly, he was not the most extroverted or beloved amongst their ranks, but at the insistence of Miss Pacquette, that damnable Gibraltar, and the unerringly difficult to evade Salvonian he had been making small forays into socialising in the name of increasing battle compatibility with the others. In the name of increasing battle efficiency, of course.

Caustic’s sudden detraction from even the few low-key communal activities he had begrudgingly begun to attend on a generally regular basis in their shared lodgings, such as the occasional movie night or weekly shared meal, was a blatant signal to the more empathetic and suspicious of the Legends that something was not right here. Some moved immediately to paranoid delusions, others queried if the scientist was unwell or had been caught up in work and forgot; Caustic could always feel Miss Pacquette’s eyes on him these days. Waiting for him to do something she could no longer forgive.

The sting of her derision only made matters worse, silencing all explanations he might give to the others when they arrived at his assigned room; so that all any who arrived saw was a brief silhouette before the door slammed shut in their faces. Assuming hostility, when the words were simply trapped inside; not wanting to admit this disgusting weakness that clawed, bit and screamed every moment of every day.

However, it was the unintended actions that gave rise to what came next; and he could blame none other than himself. For, as the foolish often do, a handful of those in the complex began to conjecture… rumour, if you will, and they spread like an unchecked wildfire. Caustic was not able to tell if they had been an errant thought turned unintentionally malicious or the deliberate attempt of one of his detractors like Loba or Crypto; and as much as he wished to close off the side of himself that felt anguish at these new beliefs swirling between his coworkers… he could not.

To say the rumours were incorrect would be an understatement, but even he could see how the gossip-mongers amongst their ranks had extrapolated a tenuous but alluring hypothesis that slandered his character, from such limited data points as were available. Especially after their foray to… the planet of his youth, most recently.

It seemed wherever he went, that blasted Crypto seemed to be hovering nearby with a smug look on his face; as if waiting for the opportune moment to mention a few inconvenient truths. Did the younger man realise what was happening to him? Could he use that drone of his to deliver a toxic compound into Caustic’s chambers when the scientist was absent? No, no of course not. Mystik would never forgive him… unless he could provide a plausible alibi. Even that particular train of thought was beginning to wear on him, feeling more tangible each time his brain brought the concept up. Actual poison was not the hacker’s style; but social poison, the slow and cruel kind that seeped from mouth to mouth, assassinating without a blade… that might be plausible.

These days, Caustic found his pulse always quickened when he caught sight of the hacker in the living complex, the anxiety making his mind rush through the worst possible scenarios of his secret being openly divulged to the masses without warning; even though some seemed utterly ridiculous. What would happen, after all? The worst case scenario? Repulsion from the others would be one thing, a natural consequence of their newfound awareness of his misdeeds and discovering the depths of his past, somewhat less than legal, activities. A strong possibility that perhaps the Legends would take the rash step of immediately contacting authorities to attend the Legend dwellings; something even Caustic would understand as rational.

Yet still, with his normally formidable intellect being absolutely and utterly subsumed under false assumptions and fallacies; the kind only a mind shuddering on the verge of collapse could generate… far worse fates arose like apparitions behind his eyelids. Such as the bizarre and somewhat infuriating insistence of his anxiety-ridden mind that the other Legends could hear of his past and simply decide to take matters into their own hands; pretending all is well until an opportunity arose to publicly execute Caustic themselves, mid-match with his beacon deactivated, for all the world to see. To denounce him in such a way that none could ever assume they had kept his secret; the disgust on their faces as they would wipe his blood from their skin would be proof enough.

Often in the depths of night Caustic muses on this highly improbable outcome. Yet, he finds that the variable of the scenario that keeps him awake is simply that, in this outcome there was the uncomfortably very real possibility of his Mother inadvertently bearing witness to the second death of her son; a thought that makes his chest constrict with a nameless horror. She loved to watch the games, according to that brat she favoured so much… and he could not put her through that grief again.

No matter how nonsensical, the idea and an uncountable number of similarly impossible scenarios would repeat over and over again every waking moment of the day. And again throughout every second of sleep he managed to wrest from this endless void of uncertainty, until it felt like the only true outcome. Caustic was aware he was not thinking logically, or even assessing all the variables… but his mind clouded it all out with whispered worries to distract, to isolate and distress.

These imagined ends and their outcomes added an almost unfathomable heaviness to his existence; adding unearned gravitas to the myriad of little concerns, worries and secret guilts until they felt like a thick fog that obscured all rational thought. Every little concern, so often hidden from his own conscious mind by a never-ending series of experiments and day-to-day tasks he employed to quiet the thoughts he did not wish to entertain, was now screaming inside. Some days he felt not unlike a speaker, reverberating from the harsh beating of his heart, and almost surprised none other than himself could hear.

No, this was ridiculous. He could not allow this to continue, not if he wished to remain Caustic. As a Legend, as a researcher with endless funding as long as he gave the right results in battle, as a scientist seeking additional data, and… as reluctant as Caustic was to admit it, as a member of the rag-tag team that shared the Apex-funded lodgings. A collective, almost like a-...

The thought always shut off there, twisting to a rapid mental analysis of the other Legends for the sake of anything else to focus on. Certainly some of the other ‘champions’ were irritating and he found it difficult to deal with them for long; but others he had to concede were fascinating, and startlingly brilliant in their fields, many of whom were willing to engage in discussions about their expertise and experiences. Even with mild distrust guarding their words to begin with, until passion for the subject overtook their misgivings.

But, as loathe as he was to admit this to even himself; to Caustic... the legends themselves were something he was starting to feel part of. Somewhat like they were a-... the word lodged in his chest like a blunt knife, something that could cause harm if he ever admitted how far he had fallen into the illogical void of social intelligence. He railed against the term, but logically it was the only apt one available to describe this group of strange people; and that was… family.

Bile scorched the back of his throat as he allowed the thought to flow through him like a soundwave, the sentiment of it far more distressing than the physical sensations; as Caustic been under the strong impression of having successfully managed to cut off all sense of sentimentality, along with his fingers, on Gaea. This feeling, this potential vulnerability, was therefore repulsive.

However… it could not be denied that recently the increased socialisation had brought out some surprising connections and insights with the others. Even simple interactions such as providing a gruff thank you to a teammate for pinging a weapon component whilst looting was noted by the others; and the way that Caustic made certain to inoculate his squadmates before a match. Inconsequential activities, but seen… apparently. He had never noticed their eyes on him during these moments before… and now he felt as if they never ceased their burning gazes on his every breath, every twitch and thought.

As it stood, he was closer to some Legends than others; and had forged several, somewhat tenuous but holding, connections he was not wholly ashamed to admit.

For example, Caustic found Horizon’s expertise on astrological matters an excellent way to pass sleepless nights, when both found themselves in the kitchen for coffee at 2am. Minds full of half formed ideas, or regrets, and unable to speak them aloud to anyone; there was an odd companionship between the Legends, so close in age and so vastly apart in lived experiences. Or, at the least, the experiences of their alibis.

Even through the distress he felt, Caustic could not help but smile as he recalled that their first two meetings at such a location and hour had not gone quite so well as in recent times. For the good Dr Somers had been blissfully unaware that a rather prominent side effect of Caustic’s initial and continued toxin exposure often expressed itself as a bright green glow about his irises; therefore the first time they had met in the pitch-black kitchen at an ungodly hour, the astrophysicist had said some truly profane things and thrown a mug of hot coffee in his direction. Lifeline had not been pleased to deal with burns at that time, no matter how Horizon had insisted they needed a proper assessment of the damage, but the young woman seemed to have found the whole situation quite humorous in hindsight. Often making smart ‘Be careful, Doctor, that’s hot!’ quips when she caught either of them holding coffee.

Ah, but their second meeting of this nature had been different. Caustic had merely been resting his eyes at the kitchen island when Horizon had carefully crept inside the darkened room, footsteps barely audible, and proceeded to make herself coffee on the quietest setting possible. It was, in fact, the sound of her sipping the beverage that had roused Caustic, and Horizon had promptly performed an almost perfect spit take in shock at his ‘sudden appearance’. The stain in the wall had never quite come out and neither of the older Legends had bothered to inform the younger Legends how it had manifested. Though some had their suspicions...

There was a calming energy to Dr Somers, and she seemed to have a distance in her eyes that he could relate to without ever broaching the subject. When they spoke of stars, of technology to traverse the time and space between the worlds, there was a communion of unspoken camaraderie there that soothed in an inexplicable manner.

Of the others, Caustic had occasionally found himself ensconced in fascinating discussions and discourse with Mirage when the pair had found themselves trapped in a social setting, such as lunch in the common area, fumbling for topics. Or more accurately, Mirage visibly sifting for a safe topic to be polite, and Caustic pointing at whatever the man was tinkering with at that moment, in silent question. It was rather intriguing how the younger man’s stutter settled when he was intensely focused on a subject he enjoyed. Although it must be said that now the scientist knew entirely far too much about holographic projection technology, and he was hard pressed to find an application for just such knowledge in his research.

On a more irritating note, was Gibraltar’s continued attempts to convince Caustic that attending events such as karaoke night or some roleplaying adventure evening with the rest of the Legends would be fun, positive, and a good bonding experience; and not at all humiliating, bizarre or definitely subjecting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known by the other champions. Disgustingly, Makoa Gibraltar was a weapons-grade optimist with a sharp mind behind that disarming smile of his.

Recognising that the current stratagem was not working as it allowed the subject too much free will, Gibraltar had added additional variables to his socialisation experiments with Caustic. Even since, Gibraltar had been occasionally dropping by with a small portion of some homemade meal or other; often with one of the other Legends as an unspoken form of backup. More often than not, in recent times, Fuse would be the person of choice.

The rescue specialist was a very large, very polite man who had gracefully accepted the times Caustic would shut the door in his face to avoid allowing anyone to breach his inner sanctum of isolation and research. Walter Fitzroy was decidedly not.

Fuse was a very charming man, but he genuinely believed that any closed door was an invitation to trial his knuckle clusters on it, ‘in the name of friendship’. The pair would then invite themselves inside, and somehow a conversation would occur about the most randomised of topics, amidst the hidden garden-like interior of Caustic’s quarters. After weathering the scientist’s myriad of multisyllabic protestations about property damage and right to privacy, with mildly amused expressions on their faces, of course. Now that he thought about the subject in detail, the visits had been increasing in duration rapidly in the past two months or so; detracting from his research, yes, but at the same time… Caustic had begun to find himself not wanting to reduce this contact in the slightest.

Rampart had recently asked Caustic, in a quiet moment, if he wanted something strong enough to withstand a knuckle cluster barrage whipped up, because he was more often without a door than with one these days. Caustic had found himself smiling under the mask as he declined; not catching her sly grin of understanding in response. “It’s your funeral mate…” she teased as she left. He still had not had a chance to analyse her meaning or motives in relation to that interaction.

Still skeptical of his motives, but warming, was Lifeline. On the odd occasion, the healer would simply come into the common area to ‘hang out’ with whomsoever was present, and initially this had been a frustrating strain on his limited social endurance. Especially if the runner joined in, or she decided that the volume was far too low for her chosen programs at the time. They had engaged in arguments, which tended to resolve when he left, seeking solitude and silence in his own quarters.

Although, to review the past month or so in subjective data; Caustic was intrigued to find himself less irritated by Lifeline’s choice of audible and visual entertainment than previously.

However, the woman’s unerringly pleasant but smug grin as she would turn and catch Caustic’s fingers tapping the datafile laden table in subconscious adherence to the rhythm of the background music, was still a nuisance. At present, if he attempted to tell her so, Lifeline would laugh or roll her eyes and throw a quick, ‘Whatever yuh say, Doctor…’ in his direction.

Caustic believed that the newfound camaraderie between Lifline and himself was either in relation to a number of recent matches wherein he had had to shield her bodily from a hail of incoming fire while she revived a teammate; or pertaining to his begrudging assistance in formulating an altered version of stim for Octane, with lower health impacts. While it seemed counterintuitive to his stated goal of wiping out humanity; the challenge of forcing a volatile substance into a different composition to improve health on use rather than detract from it, had been exhilarating. While the current formula, Stim 2.3, was by no means perfect, it could always be improved in future testing. In fact, Caustic had been surprised to find himself looking forwards to improving upon the newly created formula with Miss Che in future. Her mind was agile, quick and experienced around medical, political and Octane-related matters. Verbal sparring with Miss Che was akin to mainlining caffeine, and possibly her persuasive arguments may have something to do with how thin his facade was feeling at present. How he was starting to regret his actions, when previously they were buried deep, untouchable, as Lifeline skillfully pointed out fallacies in his logic and ideologies.

Of all the Legends, the hunter Bloodhound, he hunter, was a mystery that continued to intrigue and distract from his research. Caustic had honestly been certain that there it would be highly improbable for the pair to have anything in common; given they were from a world that despised the very technology that his homeworld had embraced with open arms.

He had also felt that perhaps the hunter would avoid him, given Gaea’s reputation around such things as diversity in attraction and gender identification; he knew what was said and not all of it undeserved.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was a shared interest in plants that began their interactions; as the hunter had peered from their room at the right moment to catch Caustic returning home with a new specimen of unknown origin. The GAVN 1.2 bot stationed at the nearby Solace City plant nursery had no knowledge of what species it may be of, but the important matter was that the machine had recalled Caustic’s request to contact him if anything ‘interesting’ came through. Bloodhound had stopped him to ask how a Crentular Vynth bush had made its way to this planet; and Caustic had been so distracted by the conversation that followed that he did not realise they had moved to Bloodhound’s room until his second cup of herbal tea.

That had been the oddly auspicious beginning of… whatever this was. Whether they were now coworkers, or something slightly below comrades in arms, their companionship had been cemented nearly a full three months later on Olympus, when a bullet shattered Caustic’s mask mid-match.

Things had not been going optimally at the time. Their third squadmate was dead; some nameless human who had dreamt of glory and fame, and was now likely in a respawn pod beyond the arena commiserating their loss with the other failures.

Bloodhound was in the process of scouting for activity within and without the building they were currently camping inside; at the far end, if the faintest of footsteps could be believed. Skirting carefully about Caustic’s traps despite the pre-match inoculation provided that assured temporary immunity for the other two.

He had been calculating the potential ring trajectory of the next round, and automatically reloading the mozambique in his hands mechanically, when a careless step had placed him directly before one of the many damnable slatted windows of the building. The first he became aware was a crack, and a split-second realisation that made him jerk back just in time for the kraber shot to hurl his mask clean off and away.

Ducking automatically, not risking a second looking for the person who was definitely chambering a new round in anticipation of taking him out, Caustic had snatched the shattered mask up and slid through the rails to the floor below. Landing with a jarring impact that raised dust, forced air from his lungs, and inspired a violent coughing fit. Panic began to stir, as the reality of his vulnerability became apparent.

To counter this, Caustic set off a nearby gastrap deliberately, obscuring himself amidst the swirling green smog; allowing a moment to focus purely on the issue at hand, and forestall the intense anxiety that the cameras could be observing his features or condition too closely. He could already see the mask was beyond repair, the hoses hissing upon his shoulders as his filtered supply fed into nothing; despair was starting to claw at his chest, tightening it until it burned...

And then Bloodhound was there. Without a word, those impassive goggles took in the scene in its entirety as they crouched down by his side; pulling a small spare mask from one of the many pouches on their belt, without the slightest hesitation, and pressing it to Caustic’s face. “Here, breathe easy felagi fighter.” they said, nothing more, nothing less.

The filtration hoses hissed a moment more before the hunter had them shut off at the valve, so as not to waste more of the carefully balanced components. The mask adhering quickly and filtering the more violent components out of the air automatically; as Bloodhound needed, given their own damaged airways. Caustic may not believe in their All-Father, but he could almost admit to himself that it was very fortuitous they had been there that day.

When the smog cleared, vanishing as it dispersed to a minimal level, the crisis was over and his panic subsumed. Bloodhound clapped a hand to his shoulder and rose, making a statement of thanks in relation to receiving ammunition. A weak cover, but one they hoped viewers would be satisfied with; feel no great desire to dig for more information on this brief ‘green-out’.

“Come, there are three squads remaining, we have foes to slatra.” they offer, and he rises quickly to follow. Win or Lose, Caustic had felt confusingly like he had already received some small victory that day; though to put it in words was beyond even his skill.

Unfortunately, the downside of increased awareness of other human beings was that they tended to request opportunities to strengthen the bond. Of all things, the Hunter and the Salvonian now wished Caustic to go camping with them; in Kings Canyon or some equally feral locale, where they may all die of undercooked food or rabid wildlife. As disagreeable as he found the idea, Caustic found himself rapidly running out of excuses as to barriers that would forestall his presence on such an experience. And just the other day, before this intense sensation of dread descended, he found himself considering purchasing a prowler-proof sleeping bag… which had been a definite call for self-reflection at the time.

Indeed, when he thought back over the past few months… Caustic found that he had had at least one small interaction of moderate-to-positive success with all of the other Legends. Even with that know-it-all Crypto. Though Caustic strictly maintained that the whole scenario had been pure happenstance; and not any display of coworkerly or implied sibling affection.

If the young brat had just so happened to be tinkering with his little drone at the kitchen island and required a tool that Caustic, also present and working on his own project, had just so happened to have on him at the time… so be it. Truly, Caustic was not even certain if Park had realised who had supplied the multitool that had readily slipped into his grip on request; although, the fact that it had been returned nonetheless to his quarters, possibly by drone through a window he had forgotten to close overnight, gave a different impression.

Ironically, whenever Caustic finds himself thinking about the other Legends recently, shades of distress, distrust and uncertainty began to fill his limbs with lead and his mind with a million illogical questions. Did Loba’s smile at breakfast mean she was intending to out him to the others? Was it normal for Revenant to ask to view his research on gases with compounds that could corrode organic metals? Was the laughter between Wattson and Wraith about him? What made Bangalore watch him instead of the screen during the movie night two weeks before? Why did so many whispers stop when he moved closer? When was the last time Gibraltar had used the phrase ‘hey buddy, you doin’ okay?’ with any other Legend?

Who. When. Why. How. What. An endless merry-go-round in a carnival of horrors, all of his own devising… and there was no way to signal to the ride operator that he wished to exit. What was wrong with him?

Or, was there something wrong with him, at all?

Perhaps this was normal, for someone whose life was close to its ending. Didn’t people feel distress over regrets and mistakes in their life?

Desperate for a concrete reason, Caustic ran diagnostics on his blood and biometrics at least twice a day, and yet felt disappointed to find no significant progression in the disease. For if not the disease… then what was this?

Days wore on as he remained confined to his quarters for all but the most necessary outings. He did not see or hear how the household was becoming more and more colourful and the Legends pre-celebrating. Glancing out his window at the billboards in the city beyond, his lip curled derisively; ah, the corporations became more sycophantic as time wore on, disgusting. But all he could focus on was the manner in which this swelling sensation of anxiety was drowning him; Caustic was awash in a sea of tumultuous negative emotions with no sign of rescue. Quietly hoping that none would come.

It felt, constantly, as if he had an anchor bound to his ankles; the chain a cruel twisting thing, cold and rattling in the currents, always just long enough so he could bob above the despair for short periods of time before another wave crashed down. Caustic was beginning to wonder if it was worth trying not to drown at all...

Unbeknownst to the scientist, his absence was noted, and some were more concerned than others. The sudden withdrawal from household life drew attention from concerned parties with irritating accuracy; and he found himself subject to gentle half-questions that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing, his hands balling into fists to hide their shaking, and his mind racing to decode the hidden trap within the questions. Overwhelmed, Caustic responded by pulling back from the internal life of the Legends with greater fervour, trying to handle this situation himself; hating that it had come to such a ludicrous turn of events as this.

It was only when he was in the depths of despair and fighting to hide this from himself, that Caustic himself began to hear the rumours swirling about. Abhorrent, pervasive, and inaccurate… but easily believable if you lacked critical thinking skills. They made him feel more vile and misrepresented than the original advertisement campaigns for his arrival as a legend ever had. All that fabricated nonsense about being a verified and diagnosed sociopath; when it was only partially true, mixed with showman’s flare for the sake of selling him as the villain to the public. But these rumours… gossip rag conjecture, utter debasement and filth. Easy to believe… and in the mouths, hearts and minds of the people he had somewhat began to trust.

~)0(~

“It ain’t his fault, he’s from Gaea, yuh know?” whispers one legend to another, in a tone so casual that the sentence was doubly alarming to have come from seemingly out of nowhere. Caustic nearly drops the mug he is holding, mind shocked into momentary pause, at the statement. At the implication behind it.

The other sighs, “I know they’re, uh, different about things… but I thought that being in Solace City this whole time might have…” There’s a pause. “Well, you know, shown him a different reality… he’s already made progress in being an okay human, or something like it. Thought things were going okay, caught him smiling at one of Rampart’s jokes the other day… ”

“Yuh best keep it quiet though, don’t want the media gettin’ wind of this or it’ll be a problem.” hisses the first, acutely aware of how the media at large takes any vague hint of something, right or wrong, and runs with it. For the last six months magazines had been declaring that she was ‘going to propose to Wraith anyday now’ because they’d been snapped shared a sandwich at a Legend event a while back. The online forums were a constant minefield, even if some of the fanart was well-done.

“Oh yeah, I’m not going to put anyone through that deliberately, my dearest fiance-to-be…” the other laughed back. “You think surprise-portalling him into the middle of the parade would help? Or do Gaeans drop dead if confronted with new ideas without any warning?”

Just as despair was filling his heart like a lead weight, the rumours like tiny knives in his heart, filleting the memories he held about someone now lost… another combatant enters the ring. So to speak.

“Enough!” snaps a third, highly unexpected but nonetheless welcome, voice. The word hissing between what can only be clenched teeth, in a normally serene face.

Caustic finds himself holding his breath as he presses close to the kitchen wall nearest the common room entrance; desperate to hear more, despite his stomach churning, wanting him to flee this whole situation. It boggled the mind, after all he had done… Miss Pacquette, coming to his defence? How could she find it in herself to speak on the behalf of such as him?

“Listen to me, and hear me when I say that not all of Gaea’s citizens think in such a backwards manner… you cannot assume because people are poor, from a small place on their world, or work on farms that they all perceive things so narrow-mindedly. There is acceptance on Gaea, in much the same way that there are pockets of intolerant people on Psamanthe and Salvo who believe that robots are not sentient, or people of different races cannot be allowed to love one another. There are good people there too...” Wattson says, voice rising with the internal fervour of righteous anger. She was so very like her father, unable to allow someone she cared about to go undefended when people brought slander to their doorsteps. If someone raised a knife to his back, she would put up a fence to bar their way, and then continue to tell him off for his inappropriate actions from the months before.

In the brief silence following her statement, shuffling is heard, and it is clear something is happening though he dare not attempt to see in. He would be sighted for certain.

In a calmer tone, almost too soft, Wattson continues. “I once knew a man from Gaea when I was very small. He was… very important to my Papa, and to me. They worked together for many years, and I believe that they loved each other just as deeply as Papa and Mama did. He was always very kind to me, like a father you could say, even on his darkest days he was always ready to make me feel happy.” She took in a shaky breath. “Many of my youngest memories involve him, from my first baking soda volcano, to my recovery from the ‘ghost’ incident; not to mention the first attempt to create my sparks… and then the hour or so we spent resetting the powergrid for the whole map due to the short we made. He was a good man, if very obsessed with his work; as Papa was. Driven, you could say.” She sighed sadly, in a way that made even Caustic’s shaking arms want to wrap around the younger woman in comfort. “But he was forced to go home many years ago because he was having a disagreement with the company overseers about a new project they assigned to his research team. He was so angry when he left, and I wish I could have had a happier memory to keep of him. I only discovered later why he was so… you see, Papa mentioned that his team was assigned the goal of manufacturing a way of purging unwanted biological urges through aerosolised disbursement in the general population, and, well… he did not agree.”

There’s a sharp inhalation of breath from a few too many voices for simply two other people to be present in the common room. Given what the ruling bodies of Gaea were known to stand against, it did not take much guesswork around the applications of such a project.

Caustic had always liked to break accepted ethical conduct on the odd occasion to get breakthroughs that pushed science to the edge of a new frontier, but even he had been abhorred by the very concept. Caustic closed his eyes, recalling the very arguments he had had with his then-superiors about the situation; and how he had even held out the ‘impeding human rights’ card as a final way to thwart the project. The cold smirk on thin lipped faces as he was informed that none who would be affected could be counted as a true human until they were cured of their odd notions… it was a miracle he had restrained from using his fists there and then.

His ‘compliance’ was bought with a simple reminder of how very important the company’s healthcare policy was to Caustic’s mother, at the time, and how it would be a shame to have it terminated alongside his employment. Feigning defeat, and hating himself, he had made a show of deferring to their wishes. Those pompous, self-inflated fools had taken him at his word. That was their first mistake.

Caustic jerks slightly, as if he has fallen out of his own memories and back to the present, bodily. Finding Miss Pacquette still speaking, her voice growing ragged with emotion.

“He… he died shortly after leaving us. I was devastated that he was gone, but even more so for the way it had happened. I could not imagine the fear and sadness he must have felt as the lab burned around him, with his entire research team. All they ever found was a charred corpse and two fingers that had enough DNA remaining to confirm his identity.” A soft sob shocked out, before she masterfully pushed it back. “U-Unfortunately for the company it seemed that all of his research and specimens on the topic burned with him; and some kind of alternate chemical residue coating the lab after the fire made the building unusable. Sometimes… I wonder if it was deliberate, for him to have taken it all with him. To be honest it would not surprise me in the least, he was as stubborn as Papa…” Natalie trailed off, clearly upset by the recollections. “Oh mon dieu, I do not mean to be so silly… I just miss him and Papa so much! And now you are all being so awful about the only person who… who reminds me of them, and I know he is difficult but there is good there, somewhere.”

Caustic’s teeth grind until it is agony. He longs to comfort her, even now as a full fledged adult and not the doe-eyed little girl who always wanted his attention... but how would that look to their comrades? Would she accept it after what he had tried to do? The anxiety wrings his stomach out like a wet rag, and locks both legs firmly in place. The scientist is disgusted with his weakness, debasing himself internally even as he countered with the simple truth of not being able to fight your own brain when it had decided on a Freeze response to distress.

He can clearly hear Lifeline and Wraith providing quiet soothing statements to Miss Pacquette, and it lessens his own distress over hers. Until he hears the one voice he would prefer never have been party to the conversation, speak up. “What was his name?” A general query, curiosity and a hint of foreboding there, as if the puzzle pieces were sliding together in the younger man’s mind.

Caustic’s heart freezes in his chest. Of all the Legends, why must Park be the one to overhear this tale? He who knows too much already...

There’s a soft muffled sniffle, muted most likely by Wraith’s shoulder, before Wattson replies; utterly unaware of how she was putting the final nail in his aliases’ coffin. “Oh, did I not say? His name was Alex… or I suppose Alexander. Dr Alexander Nox…”

The sound of Crypto’s drone clattering to the floor almost swallows the high pitched shattering of the ceramic mug meeting the kitchen floor. Almost, being the operative word.

By the time anyone has a chance to check the kitchen, Caustic has long since made a tactical retreat to his room. The racing thoughts feel like they are wrapped about his throat, constricting his chest until he can barely breathe. Hoping that none saw his frantic flight back to the safety of familiar walls.

~)0(~

#apex legends #caustic #please tell me if its too ooc #i have been agonising over chapter 2 #it was meant to be a short little fic and now chapter 2 feels very ooc #31 days of apex

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noctuascion · 5 years ago

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It's Christmas in Apex Legends. Time for some HCs for our favorites.

Mirage

Absolutely ADORES Christmas—fuck, he's hosting an entire event based around it. He loves decorating, baking, anything Christmas-related.

Definitely celebrates it with his fellow combatants. Proceeds to annoy the ever-loving shit out of everyone with Christmas music.

"rInG tInG tInGlE bOnG bInG BaNg DiNgLe DoNg DoO"

He gets a lot of death threats from Caustic.

Has a weird nutcracker collection.

Wraith

She hates winter. She despises the cold.

However, she's relaxed a lot since her debut, so she enjoys the festivities with her fellow Legends.

She tries to help with decorating, but it ends up either looking silly with clashing colors and lopsided decorated, or it's just bad.

Everyone appreciates her effort, though.

She's sure it's not her first Christmas, but she's happy one of her first memories will be spending the holidays with her friends.

Wattson

Easily the biggest contributor to the light fixtures they use for the decor.

Mandatory taste-tester for any and all desserts. If it hasn't been tested by her—well, sorry, but it isn't suitable to be released to the others.

Although she misses celebrating with her father, she tries her best to celebrate without bringing down herself with memories of papa.

Writes cards to everyone and attaches little candy canes. Although she tries to make it anonymous, everyone knows it's her (but they don't have the heart to tell her she's been found out).

Octane

Spends the entirety of December trying to perform death-defying stunts involving a flamethrower, a Christmas tree, a motorcycle, and Pathfinder.

Fortunately, Lifeline managed to prevent anything from transpiring, so their Christmas tree (and Pathfinder) are safe.

Proceeds to spend the entire month spiking hot cocoa with caffeine and sugar.

He makes Crypto have a sugar crash and Wattson ends up making enormous light fixtures that cause multiple power outages and short circuits.

Lifeline yells at him.

Pathfinder

Easily the most enthusiastic about participating in the holidays.

Bakes, cooks, cleans, decorates, sings, and gets presents for everyone he can afford.

Totally believes in Santa Clause, so he sees Caustic in his costume and asks for something for Christmas.

Shockingly enough, the robot finds a present in his room on Christmas Day.

Lifeline

She manages to convince Octane to help her set up a charity livestream to help raise funds for certain charity organizations.

Everyone participates (sans a select few) and they raise a fair amount of money, which is donated, as intended.

She then spends most of the month trying to help the various Legends that helped.

She makes a rather mean hot cocoa, though Crypto and Wattson are hesitant to indulge.

She yells at Octane again.

Bangalore

Unfortunately, Bangalore doesn't indulge too much in the holidays. She's more reserved and keeps to herself during December.

Occasionally, she'll go outside in the cold and just take a jog, but, other than that, she doesn't do much.

Appreciates Christmas music but she's sick of Mirage singing "All I Want for Christmas is you" to Crypto.

Likes to occasionally indulge in eggnog.

Caustic

Loves winter because everything dies.

He doesn't care too much for the holidays aside from occasional Christmas movies.

He has a cute Santa-themed Christmas mug he menacingly makes his coffee in. No one likes going into the kitchen because they spot a giant man standing in the middle of the room, staring at them.

He celebrates his own way.

Keeps threatening to experiment on Mirage if he doesn't shut up.

Merry Christmas, Caustic.

Crypto

Actually somehow manages to be even more reserved and soft-spoken around Christmas time.

December reminds him of holidays spent with Mystik and Mila, so he does what he does best: secludes himself from the others.

Whenever he does leave his room (aside from matches), he usually indulges in candy canes and other sweets.

Has a bit of fondness for the decor, but he doesn't really mention that to anyone (especially Mirage).

Wakes up on Christmas morn to Mirage making him breakfast.

He calls him an idiot.

Someone (it was him) hung mistletoe on his drone, so plenty of people were caught under it.

Didn't expect to get caught under it with Mirage.

Gibraltar

CHRISTMAS HUGS, BRUDDA'!

Every morning, one new Legend gets a hug—INCLUDING Caustic. No one is safe from his bear hugs.

Most were immensely grateful. Mirage was startled but ultimately fine with it, but he underestimated Crypto's body mass and crushed him.

It's okay. He made up for it with a softer hug.

He buys presents for EVERYONE, too. Yes, even Caustic.

He can't open candy canes without breaking them.

He made pie!

"i'M oPeNiN' tHe PrEsEnT"

Bloodhound

Not exactly the most festive, so they remain to themselves like they normally do.

Occasionally, someone will find a shiny trinket as a present, or a knife. They dont know if it's a threat or an actual present.

Also carves more for some reason.

Unintentionally adds to Mirage's nutcracker collection when they make him one.

They're doing their best.

Merry Christmas!!!

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fardell24b · 4 years ago

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Quinn’s Code - Alternapalooza Part 1

Installment 8: Alternapalooza

Friday, February 2, 2006

Lawndale, MD

Daria Morgendorffer approached her friend, Jane Lane's house. She noticed her other friend' Jennifer Burns' Beetle in the driveway alongside Jane's brother's car... 'I see that she got here first,' she thought.

Jennifer Burns was watching Jane's TV. “Can monkeys surf the net... And corrupt our kids? Chimpanzee chat rooms, next on Sick Sad World.”

She noticed Jane holding something to her head. “I surrender, Jane.”

“A little respect for the Stickmata 5000. Finest gluegun on the market,” Jane said. She lightly petted the device before going back to her project.

“I thought it was a sci-fi prop,”

“No, thanks. Reality is bizzare enough for me,” Jane said as she glued an object onto a sculpture. “Why do I get so much fun out of this?” she asked herself.

“Past life as a barnacle?” Daria asked at the door.

“Could be,” Jane said. “Welcome, Daria.” Jane was about to say more, but was interuppted by a tremendous sound of jarring rock music. The room vibrated heavily and her sculture fell into many small pieces.

“I suppose they couldn't practice elsewhere,” Jennifer murmured, her voice barely audible above the noise.

Jane sat up from the pile that had been her scultpure. “Come on, let's go complain about the noise, hmm?”

“I don't find it a problem,” Daria said.

Jennifer got up. “Neither do I.”

“I think Mystik Spiral might have a couple of openings for fly girls,” Jane said, more to Daria than to Jennifer.

“I think we might have an opening for a new friend,” Daria shot back.

“Come on, Daria,” Jennifer said as she left the room.

“Sure,” Daria said.

They were soon down in the Lane's basement...

Daria saw the second guitarist first. He was wearing a vest, without a shirt, and black pants. He also had shoulder length hair. “Who's that?” she asked.

“Jesse Moreno,” Jennifer answered.

“He plays rhythm in the band,” Jane explained.

“Doesn't sound that rhythmic,” Daria countered. 'It's rather discordant. It probably causes cardiac arrhythmia in small animals,' she thought.

“They try,” Jane said with a shrug.

Jennifer said something that was drowned out by the music. Daria thought it was something like 'They certainly do.'

“You're an angel in black.

You sure have a knack

For putting my heart on a shelf in the back

I'm waiting my turn

Oh, when will I learn?

My poor heart, you're giving it freezer burn. Yeah...”

“Yo, Trent!” Jane called out. “You wanna turn it down a bit?”

“Are you kidding?” Trent asked. “Hey, Daria.”

Daria was mesmerised as her heart beat faster (without any arrhythmia). 'Must speak. Must speak!' “Hey.”

“Whadda ya think of the song?”

.It has a beat and you can dance to it, if you have no shame.' Daria thought. She couldn't say more than; “Cool.”

“It's called Icebox Woman,” Trent explained.

“You guys oughta come to the next Mystik Spiral gig. We'll put you on the list,” Jesse said. “He turned to Trent. We doing a show this weekend?”

“Nah, we're going to Alternapalooza this weekend,” Trent replied.

“You're going to Alternapalooza?” Jane asked.

“Where's that?” Jennifer asked.

“Yeah. It's way out in Swedesville,” Jesse answered.

'Where's that?' Daria thought. She knew of most places within Lawndale and Carter counties. 'It must be farther away,' she decided.

“You think your car will make it?” Jane asked Trent.

“We're borrowing our drummer's van, the Tank. It's indestructible,” Jesse said.

“Yeah, but you know, Jess, it eats gas. I don't know what we're going to do for gas money,” Trent pointed out.

“I could probably scrounge some up, if you let us come along. We'd enjoy that, wouldn't we, Jen? Daria? “

“Yes,” Jennifer said.

“Okay, cool, we're there. If you can stand being cooped up in a van with Jesse and me for four hours,” Trent said.

'Pass me a guitar string so that I might silence my friend,' Daria thought. She couldn't say anything more than “Uh-huh.”

“Come on. It'll be fun,” Jane said.

Trent and Jesse weren't the only ones in Lawndale planning to go to Alternapalooza. The Fashion Club, Sandi Griffin, Tori Jericho, Stacy Rowe and Tiffany Blum-Deckler were also planning to go. They were in Cashmans, shopping for alternative fashions.

“Friends don't let short-waisted friends wear hip-huggers,” Sandi said.

“I hate these big plastic things. They're so ugly!” Stacy said as she held up a dress. It wasn't ugly, but it wasn't exactly pretty either.

“I wouldn't take anything that cheap if I were to steal something,” Tori said.

“Tor-ri, Cheap is in this season.”

“If you want it, get it, Stacy.”

“Sure.”

“Why are we going to Alternapalooza? Ugh. Isn't that for girls who don't shave?” Tiffany asked, her voice showing some disgust.

“As members of the Fashion Club, we have to keep up with the latest trends in music and clothes,” Sandi explained.

“So we can show everyone that popular kids can be more alternative than geeks,” Tori said. She glanced at Sandi. “More so than that Quinn can manage.”

“I hope so!” Sandi said with a stern expression.

Tiffany held up an outfit. “Is this alternative?”

“If you tuck the top in, no. If you let it hang out, yes.”

Tori held up a clunky shoe. “Would I have to wear this?” she asked.

“If you wear it, the rest of you will look cuter by comparison,” Sandi said. She added in a muttering tone;. “and you'll show up that Morgendorffer...”

'Of course she wants me to do that.' Tori thought “Maybe I'll shave my head!” she joked.

“You crack me up, Tori,” Tiffany said.

“Maybe if Quinn gets it in to her head to shave hers...” Sandi pondered.

“Nah...” Tori said as follow up to her joke. She turned to Sandi. “I doubt she would.”

“Maybe,” Sandi said.

'She wouldn't look as cute,' Stacy thought.

Daria's sister, Quinn and her friend Kristen Bell were at their friend, Cindy Brolsma's house for the afternoon.

Cindy turned from her computer where she had been reading a game strategy site. “Would you like to come to Alternapalooza this weekend?” she asked.

Quinn looked up from her DS. “I've heard of that. Some kind of alternative music festival?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kristen said. “It's quite cool. I went there last year,” she clarified.

“So you're coming?” Cindy asked.

“Of course,” Kristen replied. “I wouldn't miss it for anything.”

Quinn looked at her two good friends, smiled and said “I'll come too. I'd like to escape Lawndale once in a while.” She then thought. 'We've been here for four months without a holiday, and the only time I have left the town was to go to the Mall of the Millenium.'

“Excellent,” Cindy said.

“Of course, we'll need to wear alternative clothes,” Kristen said. 'We wouldn't stick out so much,' she thought. Of course her usual clothes were alternative to begin with, but still...

“That's no problem,” Quinn said.

“That's OK,” Cindy said.

“Temporary Tattoos, yes or no?” Quinn asked after a moment.

“I'd say not,” Cindy said worrying about the image that would project. “No need to be that alternative.”

“I'd say a little risk is alright. Yes,” Kristen said.

“Only if it's henna colored,” Cindy said.

“Sure,” Kristen said with a smirk.

“I know where I saw some in Cashmans,” Quinn said. “We could go there before dinner time,” she decided.

“There are a few other stores where they're available,” Kristen said.

“We'll try Cashmans first,” Cindy decided.

Kristen just nodded.

Later that night, after both Quinn and Daria arrived home, dinner was ready... Helen Morgendorffer, their Mom, noticed one of Quinn's fake tattoos. “Quinn! What is that thing on your arm?”

“Don't worry, Mom. It's fake.”

“So you got a tattoo to match your personality?” Daria asked.

Quinn glared at Daria. “I'm going to Alternapalooza this weekend. Kristen and Cindy are also going.”

“And if some guy named Pigpen asks you to be his old lady, hell, you'll be ready,” Daria commented.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“What? No daughter of mine is going to mutilate her body for the sake of some fad!” her father, Jake, declared.

“Da-ad! Don't you remember. I told Mom that it's fake!”

“Oh, yeah,” Jake said as he remembered.

Quinn was then curious about something. “Hey, Mom, did you go to any festivals back in the seventies?”

“Oh, sure. I did my share of partying.”

Daria was sure of something else in their past. “You mean you experimented with...”

Helen didn't want to talk about that at that time. “No! Your father went to one of the most famous tours of the decade.”

“Which tour? There were many famous tours,” Quinn said.

“I dropped in on 'The Rolling Stones Tour of the Americas '75' over in San Francisco...” Jake said as he started to reminisce...

#daria #daria morgendorffer #fan fiction #helen morgendorffer #jake morgendorffer #jane lane #jesse moreno #quinn morgendorffer #road worriers #sandi griffin #stacy rowe #tiffany blum-deckler #trent lane

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passivenovember · 4 years ago

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5, 17, 27, and 50 for the asks!!

Hey, sis! <3

5. When was the first time you wrote someone a letter on paper?

This actually isn’t a rare occurrence for me. I regularly send letters in the mail to my friends, and if I had a lover that valued stuff like that I’d probably leave letters around the house for them as well. I think stuff like that is so personal, much more so than any text message or voicemail. I don’t really remember when the first one was sent? My grandmama has stories of me slipping letters under her door every night before bed.

17. How would you describe your type?

Intelligence is a big thing for me. I like people who are knowledgeable, people who info dump about the things they love. I’m also a sucker for dopey eyes. Big, sad brown eyes which is probably why I’m so attracted to Steve lol.

27. Would you like to live in another country?

I lived in Scotland for a spell while I was working at the Festival Fringe and I miss it every single day. I miss Edinburgh and Glasgow. We made several trips up to the highlands and I cannot believe there is a place on earth as beautiful as that, so lush and clear and bright. I was due to go back this year for the festival just as a patron, but. Covid :/ I would absolutely move back. Go to Camera and the Mystik shoppe. Visit Inverness and Loch Lomond (where I nearly fought a goose). As soon as I can get out of America I’m gone.

50. State Five Facts about your personality:

1) I probably spend 15 hours a day reading. That includes books & fic. 2) I’ve been told that I don’t judge people ever. Like, not when they’re having a bad day or when they’re being shit. Everyone deserves kindness; the space between and all that. 3) I quite enjoy the silence. Some people have to have noise all around them; I just like to be alone with my thoughts. 4) I’d say 78% of my personality is how much I love the macabre. I’ve been a goth for 10 years now, so. My friends come to me for witchy shit. 5) I’m the eldest of 8 children. Being a big sister informs a lot of how I move through life.

thanks <3

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jaybe11 · 5 years ago

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youtube

Mystik - Live at Noselake Metal Festival 2018 - Full show

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blendcorp · 6 years ago

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Big love to all crew signing up and supporting @pbsfm/The Blend and all the other programs on the station during Radio Festival so far. Our Round #1 audio up, via mixcloud.com/blendcorp or link in bio. . Tunes from Abstract Orchestra, Red, Dolenz, Mr. Mitch, Walton, Bulu, Lmajor, On1, Basic Rhythm, Mani Festo, Asok, Ronan, Imanzi, Coco Bryce, J Majik, Response Feat. Lara Lee, Utope, Sikka Rymes, Etch x Nico Lindsay, Soukah, Poison, Gideon Greene, Utility, Rings Around Saturn, Air Max 97, Midnight Tenderness, Pugilist & Mystik, Unsoundbwoy Ft Mambo, Sk Simeon & Yaw Faso + comps Comps Borai & Denham Audio Present: Club Glow Vol.2, NN00 (Not Now Records). #hiphop #beats #bass #ukfunky #dub #dubstep #jungle #grime #ukg (at PBS 106.7FM Melbourne) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bxtg92zn5Ct/?igshid=1jcag9zncsjz

#1 #hiphop #beats #bass #ukfunky #dub #dubstep #jungle #grime #ukg

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thegaytraveler · 2 years ago

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2023 LGBTQ Mardi Gras events in New Orleans

Article by Topher Danial, courtesy of New Orleans & Company

During Carnival season, the already vibrant and colorful culture in New Orleans is amplified tenfold—and things only get more spectacular when you add in LGBTQ-specific events and balls. From annual extravaganzas thrown by gay Mardi Gras krewes to block parties that invite you to leave your inhibitions at home, every day of gay Carnival is an opportunity to show up as you are, wherever you are.

With 2023 marking the full return of LGBTQ happenings and events after two years of scaled-back celebrations, this Carnival season is sure to be the biggest—and queerest—yet. Here are notable events LGBTQ locals and visitors won’t want to miss.

Mystik Krewe da la Rue Royale Revelers Twelfth Night Party (January 6, 2023)

In Carnival tradition, Twelfth Night marks the commencement of the season’s parades and festivities, and the Mystik Krewe de la Rue Royale Revelers kicks it off in style with a night of grand, gay jubilation at the Mardi Gras Museum of Costumes and Culture. The cost of admission gets attendees access to an open bar, food, access to the museum, a commemorative pin, and a one-year membership in the krewe. Tickets and capacity are limited, so don’t wait to secure your spot in this can’t-miss cornerstone of gay carnival.

Krewe of Stars Masquerade Show Ball (January 13, 2023)

One part tradition, one-part modern showmanship, and completely unique, the Krewe of Stars’ “Ball for All” creates a unifying space for people from all walks of life. The event combines music, entertainment, over-the-top costuming, and pure decadence for an evening that honors both our differences and our similarities.

Mystic Krewe of Apollo’s 20th Annual Ball (January 28, 2023)

This Krewe’s events have become the stuff of local legend for their elaborate and mesmerizing costumes. With the theme for this year’s 20th-anniversary event announced as “A Night of Magic,” it’s sure to be a spellbinding night of hocus pocus and bewitching sights. This Bal Masque typically sells out well before the event date, so don’t delay if you want to be a part of this wickedly good time.

Mystic Krewe of Amon-Ra’s 58th Annual Ball (January 28, 2023)

Securing an invitation to this exclusive ball is quite the honor, as each member is given just ten seats to fill with family and friends. But those who are lucky enough to attend this dazzling formal event get to witness a gay Mardi Gras tradition that has been going strong for nearly 60 years. Become a member or befriend a member to experience this show-stopping Carnival fantasy.

Krewe of Mwindo Bal Masque (TBD)

With education and outreach events throughout the year and an annual Bal Masque, this Krewe strives to unite queer people of various backgrounds, with specific emphasis on uplifting and celebrating the city’s queer Black community.

Krewe of Belle Reve’s Friday Night Before Mardi Gras (February 3, 2023)

Want to experience the splendor of Gay Mardi Gras while supporting a good cause? This celebration is hosted by the Krewe of Belle Reve of Belle Reve NOLA, which provides affordable, LGBTQ-affirming housing to the city’s aging population. This year’s epic masquerade ball will be hosted at the Allways Lounge & Cabaret, where drinks, hors d’oeuvres, costumes, and entertainment will flow in abundance all night long.

Armeinius Bal Masque LIV (February 17, 2023)

Since the 1960s, the Krewe of Armeinius has staged elaborate balls that showcase a full tableau of queer artistry, invention, and community. Everything from the outlandish and satirical to the formal and refined feels right at home in this legendary Bal Masque, which continues to sell tickets to the public to pass on the history and grand tradition of gay Mardi Gras. While this year’s event will be hosted in Chalmette, partygoers can convene at Grand Pre’s for a shuttle to and from the Frederick J Sigur Civic Center.

Krewe of Petronius Ball (February 19, 2023)

The world’s oldest gay Mardi Gras Krewe returns for another triumphant evening of queer resilience. Founded at a time when anti-gay laws were still in place in much of the country, this Krewe has long been revered for its dedication to uniting the LGBTQ community, even when it was dangerous or difficult to do so. This year’s event supports Covenant House New Orleans, where young people can find safety and security during times of crisis. Tickets are exclusive to members, so you’ll have to join the ranks of Petronius to see this historic Krewe in action.

Lords of Leather Ball (February 19, 2023)

The only rule at Lords of Leather Ball? Don’t dress casually. Here, leather outfits, flamboyant costumes, gowns, and tuxedos are the name of the game. Tap into your bawdy side with the only krewe in the country that specifically caters to the gay leather community while promoting education, raising public awareness, and dismantling stigmatization of this often-overlooked (and prejudged) queer subculture.

Fat Monday Luncheon (February 20, 2023)

This Gay Carnival tradition celebrates its 73rd year with a delicious multi-course luncheon at Arnaud’s Restaurant. In addition to mingling and dining with fellow queer revelers, attendees will enjoy a human chandelier decoration contest, a second line led by a New Orleans jazz band, and a Queen’s Reception at Crossing Bar. Because the event carries such historical significance, tickets sell out quickly, so plan ahead if you want to be in that number.

Mardi Gras Day (February 21, 2023)

Take to the streets in all your queer glory for the citywide celebration of Fat Tuesday. Parades, dancing, indulgences, and more await you at nearly every stop, and the best costumes of the season will be on full display.

Bourbon Street Awards (February 21, 2023)

Gather at the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann for a block-party that dishes out awards for Best Drag, Best Leather, Best of Show and more, all against the colorful backdrop of Mardi Gras Day. This tradition has carried on for five decades and is guaranteed to delight your spirit and imagination. Think you’ve got what it takes to win a Bourbon Street Award? Be sure to sign up early that morning to participate in this famously flashy spectacle.

Gay Mardi Gras Bead Toss (February 21, 2023)

Every year, the Krewe of Queenateenas’ reigning King Cake King and Queen take to the balcony of the Ambush Mansion for a bead toss that will have the queer community leaping, grabbing and cheering. This is, quite literally, one of the crowning moments of Gay Mardi Gras.

Now that you know what you'll do, you can start thinking about where you’ll stay, what you’ll eat, and what you’ll drink. Need ideas on what to wear? Our local costume and accessories shops have you covered there, too. Let the gay times roll!

#travel #New Orleans #Mardi Gras

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blacktruthdotnet · 2 years ago

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Mystikal Arrested On Rape, Domestic Abuse Charges

BY JAMES RETTIG Article Reprint Bennett Raglin/Getty Images for 2017 ESSENCE Festival The New Orleans rapper Mystikal was arrested on rape and domestic abuse charges in Louisiana on Sunday, as WBRZ reports. Mystikal, real name Michael Tyler, was booked and charged with first-degree rape, domestic abuse, battery by strangulation, false imprisonment, and property damage. An official…

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turtlereviews · 6 years ago

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Culture and Media/October 2018

Summary: 30 movies, 10 books, 2 comics, 4 performances. This is the first month I think that really feels like what my ‘normal’ habits are. Not the film festival and the dance festival, but, like in terms of books and other movies.

Movies (film festival) (pt 2)

Citizen Jane (2018)

The Real Thing (2018)

Cielo (2018)

Mirai (2018)

Wild Relatives (2018)

Into the Okavango (2018)

Rafiki (2018)

Movies (cinema)

Anchor and Hope (2017)

Venom (2018)

Movies

Bleach (2018)

Alien (1979)

Escape from New York (1981)

Alien vs Predator (2004)

Hail Caesar (2015)

Predators (2010)

State Fair (1945)

State Fair (1962)

Valerian (2017)

the House on Haunted Hill (1959)

Next Gen (2018)

The Girl with all the gifts (2016)

Solo (2018)

The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016)

The Babysitter (2017)

Gone with the bullets (2014)

The Conjuring (2013)

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (2001)

The Lego Movie (2014)

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004)

Katteprinsen (2002)

Books

Agatha Christie: Death on the Nile (1937)

Anna Day: Fandom (2018)

Hiromi Kawakami: The Nakano Thrift Shop (2005)

Patricia Briggs: Burn Bright (2018)

Caleb Carr: The Alienist (1994)

Dong He: Stjernelysregn

Seanan McGuire: Down among the sticks and bones (2017)

Kido Okamoto: The Curious Casebook of Inspector Hanshichi (1937)

Sarah Tolscer: Song of the Current (2017)

Lonely Planet: Food Lover’s Guide to the World (2012)

Comic books

All-New Wolverine vol. 1 (2016)

Mystik U (2018)

Performances

Gunilla Heilborn & Kim Hiorthøy: Why I wear this shirt

Human Works: Carousel

Eisa Jocson: Princess

Marie Bergby Handeland & Morten Liene/Landslaget: Null

TVShows:

Currently watching: The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Black Lightning, Miss Ma, Bon Voyage.

#Turtle reading #turtle watching things

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noctuascion · 5 years ago

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Don't think I've sent you a prompt yet. So here ya go. Possible fluff prompt: Crypto gets sick and Mirage has to look after him.

Ahh, the good ol' sick fic, my favorite. Ty for your ask!! I'll do my best!!! ✨

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Mornings were always particularly hard for Park. The night prior was either spent restlessly looking through files on his computer, or he was struggling to remain asleep due to constant nightmares or insomnia. Sleeping was something that merely evaded him, and he was thankful the cameras never zoomed in too much, otherwise they'd see just how fatigued he usually was during games, even if he still managed to pull his weight, if not just by a sliver.

Mornings were spent sleeping in until he couldn't stay in bed any longer. Breakfast was either skipped entirely or the bare minimum—toast and coffee—and all of his other meals were relatively spotty as well. He sometimes forgot lunch entirely, and, if it wasn't for Makoa politely asking him to join them for dinner, he'd probably forget that, too.

He ate very little, unconsciously trying to conserve his food, a habit likely picked up from his days with Mystik at the orphanage. His preference for junk food and takeout didn't provide for a healthy diet either, hence why he could admit he was a bit on the skinny side.

Coupling that with his horrible sleep schedule could likely provide an explanation as to why he woke up one morning feeling uncomfortably warm, head aching something terrible, throat sore, congestion in his nostrils, and limbs weak, a feeling of fragility he despised. He hadn't been feeling the best these past few days, but he had just assumed it was just a lack in sleep.

The hacker groaned when he tried moving, the action upsetting the headache he was currently nursing, before looking to the clock beside his bed. It read six thirty-seven, which meant he was up way earlier than he normally was. The other Legends tended to tackle the day before the sun was at the zenith of its arch, but Park preferred sleeping in, especially on days off.

However, with how horrid he currently felt, like he was overheating in his blankets, he couldn't see himself doing much else besides laying in bed, more miserable than he usually was.

That is until he heard a knock on his door, a rhythmic seven taps that indicated only one person.

"Rise and shine, butterscotch!" came Elliott's voice, providing yet another ridiculous appellation assigned to his person. "You said we could go see that cool fireworks show later, and I thought: why not get there and enjoy the festival for a bit?"

Oh, he had completely forgotten about the supposed "festival" being hosted by Hammond Robotics, some ridiculous, over-the-top celebration about nothing Park could bring himself to care about. He had said he didn't want to go, but Elliott had nearly begged him to go—and he agreed, though he didn't want to be around people for too long. His boyfriend understood his introverted tendencies to a degree, but Park knew there were still aspects he was oblivious to—much like how Park was completely oblivious to any and all aspects of Elliott's extroverted personality.

When no answer was had, Elliott opened the door with the spare key provided, something Park entrusted him with for situations just like these. Sunshine incarnate stepped inaide the surveillance expert's gloomy abode, donning that fond smile and gentle eyes. If Park didn't feel like absolute garbage, he'd happily welcome the other into his room with a hug and a kiss—if he was feeling confident enough, that is.

"Hey, you wanna get up anytime soon?" he asked gently, nothing condescending or belittling in his tone. He sat down on Park's bed, the mattress dipping with the added weight, and cringed upon seeing his boyfriend. "Wow, you look like shit—worse than usual—n-not like you're ugly or bad looking—it's just that you don't sleep much and—"

"I'm sick…" Park managed, immediately regretting it when he heard just how congested he sounded, how his throat burned at uttering just two simple words.

"Y-Yeah, I can tell."

Elliott's too warm hand came to rest on Park's forehead, the back of his hand pressing delicately against heated skin. He already felt like he could snap in half—he didn't need Elliott treating him like he would.

However, Park couldn't find it in himself to be angry—not when Elliott was shining those puppy-like eyes at him, concern painting his handsome features. Frankly, he felt bad for making him worry, but it wasn't exactly something he could stop.

"My poor shortcake. You got hit hard, huh?" the trickster whispered, likely taking into account Park's possible headache, his hand sliding along heated skin to gently cup the other's cheek. "Lemme go to our lil' clinic and grab you some meds. I'll ask Makoa if he can get me some tea for your throat and sinuses, too, m'kay?"

"Unnecessary…" he mumbled, hoping the quieter volume wouldn't elicit any flaring pain; it did, but not as severe. "I'll wait it out… Don't worry…"

"… And you call me an idiot."

Park wasn't exactly the easiest person to get a request from. Elliott had asked him countless times what he wanted and needed, getting the same responses over and over again, like he was a broken record. He hated feeling like a burden, and hated feeling indebted to someone. Elliott had to learn from picking up on social cues just to figure out he wanted a hug. Getting him to voluntarily ask for help, especially since he's too sick to go to the festival, the one Elliott really wanted to take him too, would be potentially be near impossible.

Park was stubborn, but Elliott was, too.

"Sweet angel that fell from the heavens, my beautiful boy, the cutest shortcake to exist—just let me do this for you." Hopefully, the puppy eye look was enough to get his stubborn lover to finally give in and let him be taken care of. "I love the shit out of you, and I hate seeing you sick. Lemme help you feel better—or I'll just have to kiss you better."

"Then you would end up sick, moron." Park pulled up his blanket a bit to cover the cough suddenly shaking his frame, expression pinched and pained; it was probably murder on his already sore throat. "Fine… But I promise to make up for the festival…"

"You don't have to, hon. Just feel better soon."

Despite knowing Park would protest, Elliott leaned down to press a kiss to the other's skin, a hand leaving the comfort of his blanket to swat him away, eliciting a laugh from the trickster.

Quickly, he made his way out of the hacker's room, shutting the door quietly behind him, before hurrying off to fetch the promised items. He asked Makoa first if he'd be willing to make some tea, explaining that Park was feeling under the weather, and even offered to make soup for him. The man was a saint, laughing off Elliott's "would that be asking too much?" with that same boisterous laugh. Afterwards, Elliott made his way to the clinic, their resident medic checking over medications and organizing her supplies. After explaining his symptoms, Ajay provided some ibuprofen, asking if he'd tell Park to "get better soon so they can even the score."

Once the medicine was acquired, Elliott returned to the kitchen, where the scent of ginger and tomato seemed ever so prominent. Makoa waved him over, allowing him to see the progress. He wasn't finished just yet, but he would be soon.

And, once he was, Elliott placed everything on a tray and brought it back to Park's room, where the hacker had fallen asleep in, though his slumber looked anything but peaceful. Elliott set the tray at the end of Park's bed, making sure it wouldn't tip over, before gently placing a hand on the slumbering man's shoulder, gingerly shaking him awake. Glazed over hazel optics moved to blearily stare at Elliott; said man could only smile once seeing him awake.

"Makoa made you some tomato soup and ginger tea, and Ajay gave you some ibuprofen," he said, moving to grab the tray and bring it over. "You think you're strong enough to eat and drink?"

A tired nod was all he got in response, Park's arms moving to push him up into a sitting position. Elliott moved his pillows around a bit so they'd provide some support for him, setting the tray in his lap. The hacker attempted to take a whiff through his congested sinuses, humming when the ginger tea provided some semblance of assistance.

"Okay, you eat, take your meds, and I'll go run you a cold bath."

"Cold…?" the hacker suddenly asked pitifully; he wasn't particularly fond of lower temperatures…

"It's to help with your fever, baby. I doubt feeling like you're cooking alive under your blankets is a good feeling."

Park let out a huff, a hand reaching for his ginger tea and the other taking the recommended dosage of ibuprofen. "I guess you're right…"

"I'm always right. The rightest man on the Frontier. You won't find a righter man than me." Elliott leaned over to press another kiss to heated skin, receiving yet another swat for his efforts, which, in turn, elicited yet another chuckle from the taller. "Enjoy your soup and gross meds, angel cake."

With the wave Park sent his way, Elliott hurried off to do as promised. The bath wasn't frigid, but it was just a little below lukewarm. He didn't want the other actually freezing; his sensitivity to the cold was cute, sure, because it meant more snuggles and hugs when they were out in the cold, but he didn't want to actually bring his boyfriend any discomfort. He even put in that little Nessie rubber toy the other insisted he hated, even though Elliott's seen him admiring it or even having it in his tub when he's washing up.

When he finished, Elliott returned to see Park had finished up most of his soup and that his tea was nearly gone. He assumes he took the medicine; Park's never given him any reason to doubt in the first place.

"Finished?" he asked, receiving a nod. He lifted the tray off the other's lap, setting it on his desk, which had a few takeout containers and papers strewn about. They'd have to clean that later. "You okay enough to walk to the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"Cool, cool."

And, despite the answer that couldn't have been anymore straightforward, Elliott moved forward, pulled the blanket off, slipped his hands under the baffled hacker's legs and back, and lifted him up like he weighed almost nothing. Park's arms unconsciously wrapped around his neck in a panic, already red-hued features darkening at the sudden action.

"I said I can walk," he muttered angrily, glaring up at his uncaring boyfriend, who didn't seem bothered by the scowl adorning the hacker's visage. Frankly, it's lost any intimidation it used to have and just reminds Elliott of a feral but sweet cat.

"I know."

"Then put me down."

"Nah."

"Idiot."

"Shortcake."

And if bathing with Park, who had rested against Elliott's chest the entire time, pliant and quiet, nearly dozing off, wasn't worth missing out on the festival, then watching as the hacker drifted off to sleep later that night, content and comfortable in Elliott's arms, definitely made it worthwhile.

He couldn't help but press a kiss to the other's forehead again, knowing that, if the other was awake, he'd just swat him away like he normally does. Even though Park's fever worsened, fluctuating between stable and unstable, and eventually broke a few days later, Elliott didn't mind any of it, didn't mind the fact that they missed out on a few date opportunities, that they missed movie night and a few hours of sleep. Seeing his lover get better made any problem worth it, and the smile he got was all the reward he ever needed.

#apex legends #crypto #tae joon park #mirage #elliott witt #cryptage #eugh this was corny and GROSS #i hope you at least enjoyed some of it haha #ty so much for the ask!!! they're always immensely appreciated!!!#lenardo does a write

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