#oh to have the freedom to be so shamelessly gay

[jovieinramshackle]

h,,,,hear me out,,,,,, tilly, pio and the silly fox man,,,,, (the voices are speaking to me again)

A9SHDISDFUHAJDSAJSDHSADFHBSJADISFHUDFBCDNDIWEUHFIEUBBDHAFJDAEFWRGIDBHEADW0ASRDFGHIEHDFGAYRHBARUGFIAHFIJNDWAIGRBAFJAUEBDJFNSDBFSDJNSOAUBFHASDFSHVDBSADBVAISHBVKSAJDLISBHASDR YOU KNOW IM A FREAK SO WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME SUNNY

@theolivetree123 I HAD TO ADD ISO. THE VOICES WERE WAY TOO LOUD.

Fellow's interdimensional polycule is here and I think I'm gonna bash my head against the wall (I'm so fucking gay heLP ME-)

[vellichorom]

Goreguts / your Stanarrator headcanons pls?

oh MAN where do I begin,

so Officially, thierry's gay & rosemary is bisexual. HOWEVER, they are both lesbian women. & actually, also gay men. & also a secret third thing. just so you know 💕

thierry has had feelings for rosemary since THE beginning; prior to them really knowing each other, prior to it coming to light rosemary was NOT stanley & kept virtually unknown for the longest time even afterward. he's extremely embarrassed about this fact.

thierry cherishes their relationship on a more down-to-earth, " face-value " level; living in the now of it, living for it, looking at it like the best & most important time of his life thus far, & seeing the relationship for what it is - like a precious gift in his hands, & savoring every moment they're together; whereas, rosemary cherishes it a bit more spiritually - like a chance of fate, written in the stars, dwelling on every choice that's lead them to now, daydreaming of the intimacy of their eventual assumed deaths & decaying together, believing past the flesh & boundaries of anything that their love will persist forever. made humble by the idea of a mortal concept that needs to be savored for everything it is vs we are beyond our bodies & will continue on past them, through the heavens, through every alternative universe & timeline. we are now everything,

they are OBSESSED with each other, in every good & bad way. this flusters thierry SO much, never having loved another quite like he loves rosemary & finding it strange- just because he thinks he'll be judged for it by. someone, on the other hand, rosemary wholly lives by & embraces her endless, unconditional love near shamelessly. this kills the thierry

not knowing where the other is for a long time / not being without the other for awhile period is liable to cause them physical illness / mental distress for no other reason but separation anxiety. rosemary is susceptible to her more intrusive, harmful thoughts & thierry's liable to an otherwise physically impossible for him to feel sickness.

🐻/🐰 <- these are the goreguts animals;

🐺/🐰 <- these are also the goreguts animals;

on a MUCH lighter note, rosemary, well-beloved, ever-cultured, & mostly well-rounded rosemary introduces that man to a lot more slice of life than he's ever experienced - such as celebrating holidays, eating delicious meals, having simple, intimate moments with each other, such & such more generic human & familial pleasures that thierry- not being human nor in an environmental situation to do so, wouldn't get to experience / would find tedious otherwise.

the memory zone has been expanded upon from canon - quite heavily, with secret rooms & artifacts dedicated to rosemary, as well as the outside environment built upon to give her more room to run around & experience nature again. ( the freedom ending area has ALSO been given this treatment )

fun fact! they are each other's exact type,

autumn freaks; they love autumn SO much. they are so autistic about autumn, the aesthetic of it, the changing of the seasons, & that god damn STARBUCKS AUTUMN LINEUP THEY ARE SO AUTISTIC ABOUT AUTUMN

also autism 4 autism 💖

&- because this post is already getting pretty long, i'll finish it off with something more... goregutted; that being,

vivisecting & cannibalizing the other is one of their FAVORITE dating activities ~

having said that, i now must encourage my dearest @tomiechu to add on ~ stay tuned for part two maybe!

[desdemonafictional]

“Whoa, you two seem close!” Tobi said, leaning over the two toppled jonin. He tapped a gloved finger against the place where his mouth would be, if he wasn’t wearing the orange wooden mask. “Do we hear wedding bells?” Kakashi glared up at him from a pile of Might Gai’s limbs. The big oaf had taken a dive at Tobi from the treetops, sadly underestimating the kamui technique, and gone flying straight through into his fellow. The result was a comical pile-up on the forest floor, with the sweet sweet side effect of making Prim and Perfect Hatake Kakashi look a fool. Gai was good at that, if nothing else. Once Kakashi had destroyed the lives of everyone else around him, he���d moved on to playing house with the boy who’d shamelessly begged for his attention the whole time Obito knew him. That dignity Kakashi had guarded so jealousy for so long went out the window when Gai was around, apparently. “Ooh, what a fierce look!” Tobi said, fluttering around the heap of his opponents. “Protective of your boyfriend, is that it, Sharingan-san?” At this, Gai finally managed to rip his arm free of the turf, a new freedom of movement that he used to look directly at Tobi and announce: “You are mistaken, my wily foe! There is nothing between us but the bonds of youthful comradeship!” “Is that what they’re calling it in your village?” Tobi asked. “Do you have a youthful time with your comrade, when you’re tenderly kissing under the moonlight?” Kakashi went thunderously dark in the face, and the next thing you knew, he’d launched Gai several feet in the air with a heel kick to the sternum. Tobi watched the full arc of it, hand unnecessarily shading mask as he leaned back and whistled. The kunai Kakashi threw went right through him, of course. “Aw,” he said, dodging the next several strikes, “embarrassed?  Don’t be so cold, he’ll think you don’t love him, Sharingan-san!” The two of them tried a pincer move around Tobi, which would have worked on someone who couldn’t just slide through the dirt and rise up again several feet away. Once they’d spotted him in his new position, he waved. Gai pointed at Tobi, and then made a determined fist. “I’ll only say this once, whoever you are! You may say anything you like about me, but Kakashi is a very private person! Respect his boundaries!” “Gai,” Kakashi said, “we’re in mortal danger. Now isn’t the time.” Obito smelled blood in the metaphorical water. “Oh?” Tobi said brightly. “So I can say anything I want about you?”

this is a TobiObito/Gai fic

Man I am writing something that NOBODY is asking for.

[arlingtonpark]

I. HATE. EREHISU.

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SHIP HATE. 

EreHisu is canon. 

I’m almost certain it is, and I fucking hate it.

In a vacuum, Eren and Historia being an item would be fine. Their characters complement each other well, and they have good chemistry. 

Unfortunately, this is not happening in a vacuum. 

The newest episode of the SNK anime is out. It covers the chapters revealing Historia is pregnant and supposedly how that came to be.

In chapter 108, there is a meeting between Paradis and Hizuru. In that meeting, Miss Kiyomi unveils Zeke’s 200 IQ, 3 point plan to save Paradis: 

1. Use a partial rumbling to show the world you mean business.

2. Bulk up your military 

3. Rape your queen, then kill her, then kill one of her children ever 13 years for at least 50 years. 

And maybe rape one of her children too if you need more people to kill.  

Everyone is naturally horrified by this, but Historia seems willing to at least become a titan. 

What happens next is the reason I wrote this post.

Eren forcefully objects to Zeke’s plan and asks why they should accept it up front as the best option.

My interpretation of this moment was that Eren was addressing Historia directly.

In the panel where Eren begins his dialogue, there’s a word balloon indicating someone was saying Historia’s name. 

In the anime, it’s clear Mikasa says it, but because Eren was the main focus of the panel, I thought he was the one talking. 

Whoops, silly me, because that completely changes my reading of this scene and what it means for a possible canon EreHisu.

Specifically, it changes it to be terrible.

It’s one thing to get emotional when someone asks you directly if the obscene thing you believe you have to subject yourself to is really necessary. 

It’s totally different to get emotional when someone says, to no one in particular, that the plan to subject you to something obscene is bad and not necessary. 

In my original reading of this scene, Historia was committing herself to an awful end, but was called out on her rashness by Eren. When he asked her if they shouldn’t try every other option possible, she teared up. I thought that was because her facade was breaking.

She doesn’t actually want this. She doesn’t want to die. She wants to live for herself. But she’s the queen and she has an obligation to her people, so she throws herself under the bus against her own wishes. 

Her tearing up, I thought, was an expression of her true desires. 

I thought it was a great character moment for Historia. It was a powerful, telling moment that implied a lot about her thinking. 

But no, that’s not what happened at all.

Just.

Just look at this shit.

Eren isn’t talking to Historia directly or addressing her own reckless decision. Eren forcefully objects to Zeke’s plan and Historia gets visibly emotional at the sight. 

What Eren said could’ve been part of a private conversation that Historia happened to overhear, and the message would be the same. 

The message is this: Eren (and only Eren!) stood up for Historia’s freedom, so now, because of that, she wants his dick.

This moment epitomizes everything wrong with EreHisu, both in theory and in practice.

EreHisu is an insult to gay people.

Really, if you were expecting the usual homophobic storytelling from SNK, then Historia’s character arc shouldn’t be surprising.

Historia started gay. 

Her girlfriend was killed unceremoniously off screen.

Then a guy comes and shows her basic human decency and nothing more. 

And now Historia is straight.

It’s...it’s just shocking how shamelessly bigoted this is. 

How can any writer be this daft?

How can anyone be so blind to the blatant indecency of this?

It’s mindboggling that we are apparently supposed to take this seriously.

EreHisu doesn’t even work on its own terms.

Eren and Historia have always been close, but the thing that makes her fall head over heels for him is that he believes in freedom???

Not even her freedom specifically, just freedom in general. Remember, Eren objected to Zeke’s plan on general terms, not because it was Historia specifically who would suffer. 

Did Historia feel betrayed that no one else stood up for her?

Maybe, but that’s why you’re supposed to show how characters are reacting when their reactions are relevant. 

That’s what makes them characters!

This one moment, like everything about Eren and Historia’s relationship since Uprising, utterly debases Historia’s character so Eren can play the hero.

Everything about this is misogynistic. 

Historia cries when Eren defends her. 

It’s not enough for her to feel grateful towards him, no, she has to get emotional.  

Is this Historia’s character now?

A damsel in distress crying because her knight in shining armor has come to rescue her?

Historia is needy, but she’s not emotionally frail.

It’s ridiculous that her heart would melt so easily. 

Relatedly, it’s pretty dumb that Historia would be such a cheap date.

She was a cheap date before, it’s basically why she sided with her father in Uprising, but I thought the point of her character arc was that she had gotten over that.

She had supposedly learned to live for herself; part of that meant not being so needy.

Historia is apparently won over because Eren articulates the barest, blandest, most banal appeal to basic human decency imaginable (”Don’t dehumanize people”). 

Historia would definitely admire Eren for his commitment to freedom, which, in a way, is the same as her commitment to live for herself.

And she would definitely feel grateful to him for (implicitly) standing up for her.

But love?

Kids???

“Oh, Eren, you’re so strong you believe in freedom so much. I wish I was as strong as you believed as much as you do.”

People don’t fall in love over something as intellectual as philosophy. Love is an emotional experience, not an intellectual one.

Ymir introduced Historia to the notion of living for herself. When Eren tells her to do the same, he’s just reminding her of what Ymir said. 

The emotional impact is far lower, and I can’t understand how this is supposed to form the basis for an emotional connection. 

In reminding Historia to live for herself, Eren is definitely a good friend who has her back, but soulmates?

Eren may be rescuing Historia physically, but Ymir rescued Historia emotionally and completely turned her life around. 

Eren speaking up for Historia does not, or at least should not, mean much to her from an emotional perspective. 

Again, grateful, glad he said that, but that road doesn’t end with romance, which is probably why Historia’s reaction was so strong. 

I can not believe that Historia would feel so strongly for Eren. 

I hate this ship.

It’s very existence is repugnant and bigoted.

It’s executed with the grace of a teen romance novel.

It’s shit.

[emisonme]

Shameless and Liar..........

That "Shameless" video was fire, literally. Moral of that video: She's willing to set the world on fire, for the one she loves. She also has no shame in lighting Lauren's fire, just sayin!

Is there really any point in going line-by-line. Both songs are pretty self explanatory. If you have learned NOT to pay attention to the public narrative, you'll have no problem understanding what and who these two songs are about. Simply ALWAYS REMEMBER, her Label and Management set the public FALSE narrative...Her music tells us the truth!!!

Instead of concentrating on just the two songs, let's take a moment to concentrate on the project as a whole. "Romance" is the "album of her dreams". If you think the concept for "the album of her dreams" manifested in January of 2019, you would be mistaken. "Romance" has been manifesting inside her heart, and basically writing itself, since 2013.

Before 2013, and touring with 5H, she only aspired to be a singer. She has said this herself. Then she caught the songwriting bug, in 2013. Songwriting became an outlet for her. She has also told us this. With this outlet, she created the songs, "Only told the moon", "U Shaped space", "The Exchange", and more. She wrote those three songs BEFORE she even met the new boy toy.

All of those songs are about the same subject. Shameless and Liar, are literally the more mature versions of the same songs she was writing when she found herself in a situation, and needed an outlet to deal with it. And let me reiterate again, SHE WAS WRITING ABOUT THIS SAME PERSON WHEN SHE WAS 16 YEARS OLD.....BEFORE SHE MET THE SKINNY JEAN KING.

What was she writing about when she was 16? In my opinion, the majority of songs she wrote when she was younger, and needed an outlet for, was because she fell in love with her new best friend. Her new BFF, that was very supportive of the Rainbow community, but just as adamant that she was STRAIGHT.

Camila wasn't exactly screaming "I'm Gay" from rooftops when she was younger, either. She didn't really have to. (I thought she was a cute little baby gay, when she walked onto the X-Factor stage.)

Camila had a much easier time, accepting her sexuality (in my opinion), than Lauren did. There is a big reason for that. Though they both had religious beliefs growing up, Camila went to Public Schools and Lauren went to Catholic Schools. Lauren had her Faith drilled into her head every day, and twice on Sunday. Camila had more freedom in her thoughts, because the Public School System don't want any religion to creep into their walls. Especially Catholicism, or any form of christianity. (It is not a coincidence, that Catholicism made it into the  Shameless video.)

For me, in the Shameless video, I don't think Camila was running from her sexuality, or feeling shame for being gay. She was running from her feelings, because she couldn't control them. She fell for her "straight" BFF, who was desperate to ignore her truth.

Camila tried and tried to ignore her feelings for Lauren. She tried pushing them aside, and just be friends, but the harder she tried to get over Lauren, the more her feelings grew.

That's what Liar and Shameless are about. Camila fighting her feelings..to no avail. Liar is basically Camila saying, "Nope, I'm not hopelessly in love with a 'straight' girl, with severe internalized homophobia. Nope! Not me....Oh,Shit! Fuck! Damn!... I am."

Shameless, is basically Camila running from her feelings, until she realizes she is fighting a losing battle, and stops running. She shamelessly confesses her feelings, to a female Priest, who is being portrayed by someone pretending to be Lauren Jauregui.

Yes! The irony was not lost on me. Camila might as well have been confessing her love to a Catholic Priest, when she was trying to confess her feelings to Lauren, because they were the ones who had brainwashed Lauren into believing same sex attraction was a sin, and would get you sent straight to hell.

Then she set the confessional ablaze, and in doing so, was doing a couple things. One, she was telling organized religion with their hate speech and their hypocrisies to go straight to hell.

Second, she was setting Lauren free from all the bullshit she had been brainwashed with. She Lit Lauren's fire. Lauren will shoulder all the shame from her youth, as long as Camila continues to light her fire.

THEY can push this ridiculously stupid narrative, all they want. It's not going to change the truth. Camila fell in love with Lauren when she was a kid, and Lauren eventually excepted her feelings for Camila. They fought through hell and back to be together, and no fucking PR stunt and stupid narrative is going to change that!!!!!! !! !!!!.

[agileo-101]

so I've never watched jojo and i don't think i will but i def appreciate all the gay art

If you appreciate my gay art. You need to watch jojo. Actual gay couples are in the show. They might be a minor characters, but they are so precious!

Sorbet and Gelato

Thank the animation studio for not being dubious about their relationship. They don't bullshit around like "oh this dudes are super close but no homo." Nah bruh, they bang, they in love, deal with it. This two couples are official gay couples

Tiziano and Squalo.

We also got a man confessing to another man in his last (dying) message.

Cioccolata and Secco

Jojo's bizarre adventure is main stream anime that has sexual undertone and homosexuality and I liked the fact that the creator, Hiroko Araki basically goes "man can be pretty, or kind, or gay and still can be badass and kick ass"

He caters to all of your tastes.

Do I have your attention? Then please allow me to explain you the menu.

Like Victorian time line, strange powers and vampires? But wished there was some steamy vest busting action? Here is Phantom Blood m'lady/my dear sir

Or perhaps you would like crazy world adventure and Indiana Jones theme? Like bizzare stuff? It gets better, Araki has shamelessly added a American adventurer getting in too close and personal with his playboy Italian hottie. And let me add that the villians only wears leather straps and loincloth. Come and have a taste at Battle tendency my friend!

Perhaps battle tendency have you hungry for more world travel. We also got supernatural battles as new accessories! Badass main character and his rag tag team goes to Egypt to fight recycled vampire who stole his ancestor's dick. That wasn't figurative, it's literal. Sounds super interesting enough? Go on an amazing journey with Stardust Crusaders!

Perhaps all the world travel has had you home sick. How about settling down in nice quiet town? A slice of life style with splash of murder mystery! We got a main character who is pretty, can kick ass and unapologetic! Come home to Diamond is Unbreakable!

Maybe seeing all the beef cake is making you hungry for some lean celery. What if I told you that the vampire who stole a dick had a child? That's right. We got beautiful scenery of Italy, gorgeous gay men, mafias with junky outfits and names that makes you hungry. Join the familia and be blown away by Vento Aurero (Golden Wind)

Perhaps you are getting sick of all the sausage parties. Do you like strong female characters? Do you like prison breaks? And possibly sue from Disney copyright in Florida? Have you wanted a sentient talking plankton for a daughter? Experience freedom with these lesbian girlfriends in Stone Ocean!

We rewind the clock! And go back to old western style. Have you wondered what would happen if Broke back mountain was a long cross country journey? Have you ever wanted to see a disabled character actually going on an adventure instead of being cast aside? Do you like songs about mozorella cheese and teddy bears? Have you dreamed about battling the president of United states? Take a wild, wild ride in Steel Ball Run!

Lastly, have you wanted to go on a journey where you have no idea wtf is going on? Strange phenomenons? Do you like fruits?Family secrets? Memory loss? Search of self? Hilarious family dynamics, interesting plot and super cute, wholesome couple? (Cis couple that is not toxic or demeaning). Take a bite out of currently on going series, Jojolion! <-the main protagonist is probably the leanest, but he got a girlfriend. Which is the ironic part of it. (I can't add more pictures...weh....)

I'm sorry the answer became so long! But I make my arts because I am so inspired by the series. Idk if you ever pick it up, but there's so many different style that I just know you would like at least one of them XD

[theloversofmrsunshine]

The Better Ending, pt 10

This chapter is for those we miss, cherish, and love with all of our hearts. For those that left us too soon. For those who took with them a piece of us all.

If tears could build a stairway

And memories a lane;

I’d walk right up to heaven,

And bring you home again. 

-Author Unknown

Stairway to Heaven

It’s a fine day in Heaven, with the entirety of their population out and roaming in gay groups. The women huddle about like flocks, wearing beautiful silken dresses. The men strut mostly in pairs, discussing some matter or another in low voices. Huijin had found the entire thing ridiculous. Though abundant, the many enjoyments of Heaven had worn thin on her nerves within the first few years. An eternity here for her service to her family and her country feels rather more like torture. Her only enjoyments are the multitude of beautiful dogs in this place, but even their charms have limits for a woman like Huijin.

Then one day, one of the faeries had taken pity on her and shown her a very strange, yet magical mirror. Placed deep in the heart of The Emperor’s rose garden, it was not an easy place to access. Only thanks to her status as a hero was she even able to set foot in this place. This mirror, if awakened by the proper incantation and emotion, could become a window through which she could observe those she left behind. Huijin had almost no family, but there was one face she dearly missed. Ever since Aeshin was about five years of age, Huijin had taken to watching over her daughter. Gasping in delight whenever Aeshin discovered something new, cringing in horror when Aeshin was ever in danger. Laughing when her daughter suddenly made a face of angry surprise which reminded her so much of her husband. Her daughter was her only source of amusement and comfort in this sterile, sad Heaven she did not feel she belonged in.

“Now, wife, you can’t stay here all the time,” comes a voice, as Sangwan walks through the gateway that leads into the gardens. Her husband is stunning in his cream suit, his hair swept neatly back. In such a traditional setting, his more modern clothes set him jarringly apart. But Sangwan had never been interested in playing by anyone’s rules. Even as he scolds her, he’s smiling, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Says who?” she challenges, even as she holds his hand and turns her head to kiss his chin. He nuzzles her shamelessly, smiling, as he looks into the face of his now grown daughter.

“Has it really been seventeen years?” he asks, watching his daughter as she reads and faithfully copies down the words of Confucius. It brings back memories, as his father used to punish him in a similar manner when he had been fifteen and wild.

Huijin nods, smiling widely and proudly at her daughter. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Then her mouth turns down and she glowers. “She’s been working on Confucius for four days now. Must father-in-law really be so harsh?”

Sangwan hums in amusement, wondering if perhaps the old man had been growing soft. “He used to punish me with two authors at a time. I once spent ten days copying the texts my father mandated. My handwriting was practically squiggles by the end. Father had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing.”

His wife doesn’t seem to find the same humor in the situation as he did. Her daughter is too precious to spend such prolonged periods of time on the classics merely because she wanted to stay informed in the modern happenings of the world. Her father-in-law is going overboard. She wonders if she could request special permission to haunt his dreams or something. He is going to get an earful from her!

“Do stay calm, dearest,” Sangwan persuades, helping his wife to her feet. “Let’s go have a meal, shall we?” The couple walks back to the merry streets of the Jade Kingdom, arguing all the way.

Joseph smiles as he walks about, enjoying his time in this place greatly. There is a mix of so many people, all of them friendly. They shout in greeting as they pass, walking or astride gorgeous mounts. Dogs abound, wagging their tails and weaving among the crowds with practiced ease. Their coats are shiny and glossy; all of them looking healthy and well cared for, despite seeming strays. Though there are places to eat, none of them accept any currency, as far as Joseph can tell. He’s almost sure this is Heaven, though he’s not convinced he’s in the right one. From what the Bible told, Heaven would be very different from this.

He’s not sure how different, but he’s pretty sure he might have landed in the wrong one. The dogs check out, but the people around him don’t seem to be believers of his faith. Could there have been a mix-up? He woke up here, but perhaps he somehow got lost from where he should have been?

He strolls along the streets and finds a bar. Though most religious men of his faith don’t drink alcohol, the people of Joseon had enlightened him to the wonders of alcohol, if consumed responsibly. Joseph doesn’t think that alcohol consumed in Heaven even counts. He takes a seat and clumsily asks for a drink. The lady taking orders nods amiably, recognizing the blond foreigner. Despite the fact that his Korean is still rather poor, the people seem to find him charming. He’s seen quite a few other foreigners around, but no Europeans or Americans in this place. Very few people here speak English, so Joseph gets by with the language skills he learned while stationed in Joseon.

“Hey, there, Father,” a lilting voice says from a neighboring table. “You ought not drink alone.”

Joseph looks up to find a handsome man dressed in Western clothing. His cream colored suit is stunning, accented by the blue handkerchief on his chest pocket, blue tie and the black oxford shoes. He is clearly of Asian descent, but he dresses like a European gentleman. The man stands, bringing his own cup and bottle of rice wine with him. He sets both on Joseph’s table, smiling widely.

“You look a little foreign for these parts, I presume you’re just visiting?” the man asks, filling Josephs cup with his own liquor once the restaurant lady brings both a new cup and bottle.

Joseph is rather used to how the people of Joseon tend to infringe on other people’s personal space. It’s been a while, but he doesn’t mind the behavior. It helps him feel welcomed. “Perhaps an introduction would be more in order? My name is Joseph. And you are?”

The man grins and holds out his right hand, clearly knowledgeable about foreigners and their ways. It’s not lost on Joseph that most of the people in this place are ignorant. It’s been dawning on him he’s basically surrounded by people long since dead. It would explain the disconnect; most of these people don’t even know America even exists. This young man, however, is obviously in the know. “My name’s Go Sangwan,” he says and they shake hands.

There is no true night or day in Heaven, but the eternal twilight of the place seems to vary between bright and gloomy. As the gloom grows and darkens, Joseph and Sangwan drink. They chat and munch on snacks, enjoying each other’s company. The drinks have warmed Joseph enough that he can finally answer Sangwan’s initial question with some semblance of honesty.

“I don’t quite know what I’m doing here,” he confesses, smiling. “Last I knew, I had a letter from the Emperor to deliver, then an explosion of pain… and nothing else.”

The man sitting before him clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Aye, you’ve been labeled a hero, then.” He laughs, slapping his thigh. “Here my wife and I thought we were the only ones in at least thirty years to end up here on heroism, but alas, it is what it is.”

Joseph, intrigued, leans forward. Glad to find a listener, Sangwan tells tales of his and his wife’s many dutiful sacrifices for the crown of Joseon. Their love for freedom and devotion to their country is what landed them here, after all. They still haven’t been given the possibility of rebirth, but that is out of their hands, really. Sangwan doesn’t worry too much, anyway. His wife clearly wants to wait this century out. She’d much rather keep an eye on their daughter than be reborn and forget Aeshin. Especially since their little apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. A rebel daughter is bad for their health, he tells Joseph. Joseph looks on thoughtfully, before finally chiming in.

“You must love your daughter very much,” he says softly, smiling. Sangwan stops for a moment, reading between the lines.

“I see you had a child, too,” he says, confused. “I thought men of the cloth weren’t allowed to have families.”

Joseph laughs, shaking his head. “My son was adopted. I found him… or perhaps, it is more accurate to say he found me. He was my greatest joy, though I could not give him all that I wished I could.”

Sangwan clears his throat, looking skyward. “That is popular among us who die young, I’m afraid. I wish I could have done so much more for my daughter, as well.”

They drink to their mutual feelings of paternal love, before a female voice interrupts them.

“Husband! You’ll never guess what has happened! This is incredible!” Huijin comes running across the street, heedless of the people jumping out of her path. She slams both hands on the table, smiling widely. “Our daughter and that Marine, oh, I do love them together! That Eugene is the perfect man, you must see him!”

She pauses for breath, and finally notices his companion. “Oh; my apologies. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

Joseph is staring at this somewhat wild, but beautiful apparition who seems to have come up from nowhere. Then, as his mind registers her words, he abruptly stands up. “I apologize, but did you say Eugene… as in Eugene Choi?”

Floundering, Huijin nods mutely, before putting both hands on her face. “Don’t tell me… you’re his adoptive father. The one who…” Her grimace of pain and understanding has Joseph realizing that this woman had truly spoken of his son. His son!

“My boy! You have seen him? How is he? Is he alright? Can I see him?” His flurry of questions come in both English and Korean, startling the couple. Huijin’s expressions grows smooth with clarity, and she gestures for him to come along. Sangwan follows after them, shouting his gratitude at the bar lady. As they walk, Huijin tells Joseph all that she has seen of his son. When Eugene and her daughter met, aiming weapons at each other. Their first dialogue, their second meeting, and so on. How they went from almost-enemies, to allies and now, to lovers. Joseph cries as he hears how his son shot himself in the arm for the sake of protecting his lady, spending the night in jail despite his injuries. He smiles at how clumsy Eugene is in his attempts to woo the lady. Huijin tells him of how her daughter had prayed for him to be lead to Heaven, despite their differing religions. Huijin offers a handkerchief for his tears, before gesturing toward the maze of roses that stand between them and the mirror.

“I cannot lead you,” Huijin explain, gesturing for him to go ahead. “If the Heavens permit, you will find it.” Sangwan joins his wife, smiling at his friend.

“Don’t worry and just follow your heart,” he advises. “We’ll see you at the mirror, Father.”

Joseph walks in, casting his gaze about this beautiful, but confusing rose garden. Everything looks exactly the same. He pauses for a moment, and sends a prayer to God. Opening his eyes, he walks swiftly and with determination. It doesn’t take long for him to get lost among the maze of beautiful roses. There are myriads of them, a beautiful collage of red and pink. Among them, he finds a white blossom, gorgeous in her solitude. Joseph walks toward it, gently touching its petals. She is fragrant and large, a lovely specimen. He commends it for its beauty, pauses, and follows the path she lies on. After a few meters, he finds another white blossom, then another… and another. As he follows their lead, the white roses behind him quietly and simply lose their petals and die.

Joseph walks for what feel like hours, panting and wondering if there is water in this garden. Just as he considers trying to find his way back, he sees a shimmer of light. Following the glow, he comes upon a gazebo, where Sangwan and Huijin await him. They smile and welcome him, offering a cup of cool water. Joseph gratefully accepts as the couple makes space for him on the bench facing the mirror and teach him the incantation.

As he whispers the words, thinking of his Eugene, his sunshine, his son… the mirror distorts and he can see his son sleeping quietly in his bed at the Glory Hotel. Seeing him, safe and all grown up, Joseph quietly cries. He had not seen him since he left him a boy that fateful day, lonely and waving on the pier, as Joseph set back to Joseon. They had only exchanged letters, and Joseph had seen the clumsy writing grow firmer, surer and more elegant over the years. Now, he sees the fruits of time, age and wisdom on his son. It breaks his heart and puts it back together again. He is, at last, whole.

For whatever Fate that brought him here, Joseph is grateful.

Hongpa stares about, finding her surroundings very disorienting. Last she remembers, she had been shot and had fallen into the water. This surreal, colorful place is starting to unsettle her. Perhaps… she is dead?

“Oh, young lady,” a voice hails her, and Hongpa turns. Before her stands a beautiful woman, dressed in silken finery. Somehow, this woman reminds her of someone, though she cannot place exactly who. “You look terribly lost. Do you need any help?”

There is a foreigner with the lady, calmly smoking a cigarette. Among the sea of Asian faces, the man is a stark contrast to those who surround her. The man smiles benignly, and Hongpa nods. She’s not one to accept help, but this place frightens her. She woke up here, with no memory of having come to this place. All she remembers is the Japanese men in her tavern, the terror, and how cold the water felt against her weeping wound. She shivers without knowing why, her hand straying to her shoulder.

“I see,” the woman says; a hint of sorrow in her voice. “You’ve died before your time.”

She puts her arm around Hongpa’s, gently steering the girl toward the warmth of a fire and perhaps a meal. “Tell me everything, I’m dying to know.”

Hongpa later came to learn she was in the presence of legendary heroes of the Righteous Army, singled out simply because of her acquaintance to their daughter. They welcome her, soothing her lingering memories of death and giving her peace. Heaven is an odd place, but Hongpa never minded dying. She had known her day would come, though she’d hoped to see Gunner Jang one last time before leaving him.

“I’ve heard you’re an excellent shot,” the woman, Huijin, says with mischief in her voice. Hongpa smirks, downing a shot of liquor. There is a challenge there, and Honga has never backed away from a challenge.

“The very best, my lady.”

Dongmae stumbles, grunting. His breathing is harsh, even as he slowly realizes his lungs actually work. He grasps desperately for a sword at his waist, missing, and glances wildly about. People around him don’t seem to mind him at all, parting around him like schools of fish avoiding a predator. The ground beneath him is unstable, his vision tunnels and he thinks frantically of the people he left behind. What of his friends, his followers, Lady Aeshin… Hina…

A voice sounds like the twinkle of a shaman’s bell. It calls to him, and he straightens in shock.

“Breathe, Gu Dongmae. Breathe,” her voice is a melody he wished he could forget. As he turns, shell-shocked, there stands Hina. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, resplendent in a blue silk, corset and petticoats. Her hair is pinned, curls around her lovely face. She holds a parasol over his head, though there is no rain or snow. It’s red, covering him where he crouches in the middle of the busy street. She’s bending forward slightly as she shields him, smiling warmly.

Gu Dongmae blinks, unable to breathe. This must be a dream. She cannot be here. He’d lost her; he knows he’d lost her. He’d felt her last breath on his back as he carried her across the sand that horrible, horrible day. Felt her grow cold and heavy and so very dead. Though he’d prayed, the Gods had taken her from him, and she’d died after confessing the impossible to him.

“I lost you,” he says, reverently and in agony.

Her touch on his cheek is feather-light. He leans against it, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again. He does not want to look away, in fear of her disappearance.

“You’ve found me again,” she says, and he forgives her everything.

Hina finds Huiseong reading under the shade of a cherry tree, looming large in the gardens of Heaven. As usual, Dongmae is a few steps behind his lady, unwilling to leave her side. Hina lowers herself onto her knees, daintily sitting at the nobleman’s side. Dongmae is less covert, simply plopping down onto the tired roots of the First Cherry Tree. Huiseong looks up with a welcoming smile, lowering his book.

“You’ve come out of your abode at last,” he remarks with a cheerful lilt in his voice. “How fortuitous!”

The pair blush, Dongmae looking away to hide a smirk. Huiseong notes it, but says nothing. He is happy for his friend to have found joy and love in the afterlife. In his opinion, they both deserve that and more.

Hina decides it’s safest to change the subject. “Where on Earth did you find that book? I’ve yet to see a library here.”

Huiseong’s gaze is back to his book, humming softly. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he says loftily, to which Dongmae kicks him in the shin. Huiseong winces, glaring at his friend. “If you ask the right people, enough times, you’ll find the bookstore.”

“So you annoyed someone into disclosing the location of a bookstore,” Dongmae surmises, snorting when the nobleman clicks his tongue in annoyance. The petals fall around them, and the young man is momentarily distracted by the sight.

“So it is time…” he sighs, closing the book.

All three rise, turning toward the gates. The walk is brief, even if their steps lag in hesitance. There is a dichotomy to their countenance as they stride toward the newcomers; a melding of pleasure, dismay and mourning.

They find Aeshin’s servants already at the gate, their hands joined as they peer anxiously into the bright light that blocks their view of the river and the bridge beyond. More people join them, materializing almost out of thin air. A beautiful lady and her husband, an aged clergyman, the elderly Lord Go, Officer Jang, the tavern owner and many more people unknown even to Kudo Hina. The gates hum, vibrate and grow even brighter. Silence settles over those gathered, awaiting the new arrivals. It has been many years since their parting and they have been dearly missed.

Together, they wait.

To be Continued…

All dogs go to heaven. This is fact.

[evenonelife]

2019, Year of the Pig

A friend of mine has a tradition of writing reminisces of the year past at the beginning of the new year. I have avoided doing the same for previous years for a variety of reasons, but as one resolution I have for myself is to be more aware of my self - to be less adrift - I decided to try to puzzle through what 2019 meant to me. Forgive me if this rambles, I have always been more ordered with my external thoughts than my internal ones. And this is for myself in any case. To my friend I am shamelessly imitating, you know who you are - forgive me my indulgence. This will be lengthy - I have never been concise. 

2019 at the core was a year where some stability was returned to my life. 2016 to 2018 were the three darkest years of my life for a slew of reasons too personal to go into here and it felt at times like I would never find my way out of that depression. I really owe more than I can express to a handful of friends that gave me a desperately needed outlet of emotion that otherwise just festered while I lived alone in a strange new place. 

BUT, in late 2018 and through 2019 things did start to get better. I left my quiet apartment and moved in with three girls that I had never met before in a leap of faith to stave off the unbearable solitude that I was struggling with. I may not have made the connections that I had hoped for with those girls, we just have too little in common, but the hint of community that it gave me meant and still does mean a great deal to me. It was also around that time that I started playing DND regularly, and the creative outlet was honestly so meaningful that in the beginning there were several nights where we would end our call and I would be in tears over how much it meant to me.

I say all this to provide myself the necessary mental background to come back to 2019 and just what kind of year it was. 

Professionally - 2019 was my second full year in what was my first full-time ‘professional’ job. One somewhat related to my college degree. The greatest positive change in that role certainly was in how I through necessity came to be the authority in the office on a couple of points of business. This meant that I was invested in the outcome and not merely acting as a cog in the machine. The job certainly was not my dream job, something that I don’t really have a firm hold on anymore, but it was better and it made me feel more confident in myself and in how I dealt with those around me. 

More relevantly and recently I was contacted by someone who wanted me to work for them. Me! I was contacted, not doing the contacting! The pure shock that I felt when I got that e-mail and during the breakneck period that led to my accepting a job offer in less than a fortnight can not be overstated. Sometimes I feel that my jaw is still on the floor and I am filled with a surprisingly powerful feeling of hope. My new supervisor will be a fellow Aggie and there is a definite friendliness to the office. Also as much as I personally have distaste for Houston as a city to live in, it is undeniable so much closer to the friends that I cannot help but be excited for that future. 

Mentally -  I already alluded to it, but mentally I was in a dark, dark place that 2019 saw the gradual lifting of, that I am still working towards. I can admit to myself that when I am depressed I withdraw as a defense mechanism.  I find myself drifting through the days, one week the same as the one proceeding it. It is a fact that I have to confront that I have had very few true confidants in my life and in fact was taught that being emotionally vulnerable was just providing ammunition and as a result I find it intensely uncomfortable to reach out to others and risk. I am happy to say that during the decade of 2010-2020 in general I met several wonderful individuals who taught me this isn’t always the case but it is still something I struggle with.

This is something that I have not done as well to combat in 2019 as I would like, BUT there are some key exceptions. For one, in the last months of the year I took over the DM responsibilities for our weekly group. The responsibility of no longer being able to just show up and make funny voices means that I have to actually have a plan for the week ahead of me. Have to think of the near and not so near future, and this is KEY friends, for a reason that MATTERS to me. It isn’t something like “oh you need to do your taxes every spring” its that I know that in 6 months my friends will be invested in the story we tell together and I don’t want to let them down. That responsibility really helps. 

On a different track entirely I have begun to internalize that my future is my own to create. There is no looking back and imagining what could have been. I intend to re-focus on my hobbies and what makes ME feel fulfilled in the new year. I began to explore my creative needs again and I mean to pursue that with the freedom that an apartment to myself will bring me again.

Physically -  *OOF*. Well, 2019 BEGAN in a really good way physically. I was using the gym as a coping mechanism and going 4 or 5 times a week. I was running because it made me feel good. Ran a 5k competitively and was running 10ks in the gym in preparation to doing a race. I had aspirations of doing a Tough Mudder! But lol as things do one thing led to another and I’ve been attending no more than once or twice a week for months. And my body is reflecting that choice. In my defence it is so hard to motivate to go to the gym after work when its dark at 5pm :(. I’m hoping I can do better in Houston. An apt. Clubhouse will help. 

I also will definitely start eating better. 2019 saw waaaaaaay too much eating out. The cramped nature of our kitchen and the less than neat ways of my housemates meant that most of the time it was easier to just pick something up, or prepare things that took little space. Lots of pasts and frozen chicken and soups. But I’ll have my crockpot again and a freezer to myself and HEB for fresh veggies and Yay! Good changes ahead, unhealthy year behind. I also began flossing again in 2019 so I’m sure my Dentist will be happy about that. Oh yeah….dentist and eye doctor didn’t happen in 2019. Let’s go 2020!

Socially -  There isn’t much else to say here since my social life has been so intrinsically linked with my mental health. But I definitely have room for improvement in 2020. I never really found a community outside of work in Connecticut. I had some limited success with MeetUp and actually managed to make a couple friends. Who promptly moved away. But my DND group changed to include two new friends who I value highly. I also began to reconnect with old friends who I’ve fallen out of touch with and intend to continue doing so. I’ve had dinner with two old friends in the last week and had a lovely time. Reviving regular group chats, beginning the rebuilding of a friendship that was shattered by a change in...everything I guess, all are good things that I can see just getting better in 2020. I’m particularly excited to be able to drive to see people again. Even if it isn’t QUITE close enough to be able to just casually drop by, my college station friends will be close enough to impulse visit, or see concerts together, Ren Faire, etc. And I just have a feeling that making new friends will go better in Houston. Maybe? We will see. 

Romantically -  Not this year. The insecurity and fear of rejection don’t help let me tell you. I also have serious trouble believing myself to be someone that someone else desires or loves. My issues nobody else's right anymore. I talked to a few girls on Meetups that never led to anything. Matched some people on Tinder and Bumble but was never confident enough in the moment to go for it. Had a gay man hit on me once, that was flattering but I don’t reciprocate. Anyways, I hope for better in 2020 but I need continued mental growth first. 

So, Yah, that was longwinded and definitely drifted far from the point of being just about 2019. But I feel like I needed to say what I said for it the puzzle pieces to fit in my own head about what 2019 WAS. It was a year where life started to seem like an uphill climb again instead of falling into a pit. And it ended on a very bright note that has me optimistic for the future. I know that a year ago today I was not feeling optimistic like this. That can only be a good thing. 

[mz-hide]

Trick of Might - Chapter 5

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z slash fic.

Chapter 5

Vegeta arrives on the planet and things might just turn for the worst... or the best.

Summary: An ancient enemy makes a sudden comeback into Goku’s life. Long-suppressed memories surface again and it’s no longer possible for the young saiyan to ignore them. Warnings: Dubious Consent, (because of drug use) Ships & Pairings: Bulma/Vegeta, Goku/Vegeta, Goku/Turles, Goku/Turles/Vegeta, Turles/Vegeta, Raditz/Turles, Nappa/Turles, Nappa/Raditz/Turles Contains: Threesome - M/M/M, Group Sex, Polyamory, Aphrodisiacs, Secret Crush, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangles, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Biting, Scratching, Boners All Around, Feral Behavior, (just a tiny bit), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

The renegade crouched among the branches, surveilling the ground from a shadowy spot hidden among the foliage. Even as worked up as he was he was not going to forsake an adeguate degree of caution for impatience. He did want to get this disruption over with as soon as possible, but he also wanted to live long enough to make it back. If the Prince himself was truly on the planet, then his survival might not have been a given. Come on, where are you? Come out so I can see you, you bratty little cockblock. It didn’t take him long to catch sight of the uninvited guest. He’d barely just noticed a golden twinkle on the horizon that a figure clad in blue materialized itself on the ground below him. A gust of wind shook the heavy leaves. The renegade gritted his teeth. That’s some speed he’s got there… Damn. He now had the certainty things were not going to go as smoothly as he would have wished. I have waited for so long to get back to Kakarot, I’ll be damned if I will let anyone interfere with my plans again. I don’t care who I have to face. If he’d had any doubt about the identity of the short, muscular figure, they were all soon dispelled. “I know you’re here. Show yourself!”, roared the powerful voice from below. There was no doubt about who it belonged to. Turles had wondered what had become to the Prince after Freiza’s fall. Now he had his answer. And, given the circumstances, he was not exactly happy with it. The fact that the tyrant was rumored to be dead and the Prince was still alive and kicking definitely did not bode well for him in that situation. He had to think of something, and he had to think it fast, for he saw the Prince raise a hand towards the immense trunk. The palm of his gloves hand started glowing as energy gathered towards his palm. “Show yourself now before I blow this place to bits!”, was the harsh warning. “That won’t be necessary, Prince.” The beam was fired, directed at the spot he’d been wise enough to jump away from the second he’d stopped talking. A large branch creaked as it burned frightfully before crashing to the ground with a deafening roar. “A little jumpy, are we, young Prince?”, the renegade greeted him, landing softly on the ground at a safe distance from his opponent. “You haven’t changed a bit, I see.” “I could say the same about you, Turles”, Vegeta retorted, imperiously. “You’re still holding on this this nonsensical botanical hobby. Still the same old lowlife.” “I see you mind hasn’t changed either. Though I have to say, you still look more dashing than ever. Freedom from slavery sure suits you well. It pleases me to see you all grown up and out on your own, young Prince.” “Silence!”, Vegeta interrupted him, brusquely. “I did not come here to be insulted.” “That wasn’t my intention, my Prince. If anything, I wanted to flatter.”  “Cut the crap, traitor!”, the shorter saiyan spat out, venomously. “Now, let’s cut to the chase. You know why I’m here.” “Oh? Have you finally decided to take up my offer?” There was no need to specify which offer. Vegeta stiffened in rage, growling. “Enough with his nonsense!” The Prince’s roar was accompanied by a sudden shock wave that made the air around them ripple. Turles was invested by a powerful gust of wind. He didn’t need a scouter to know what had caused it. He could feel the scorching power of his opponent lashing his skin. I need to be more careful. If I piss him off too much this time I might not make it out alive. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Turles”, Vegeta resumed, looking at him with flaming eyes. “I am perfectly able and willing to end you here and now without a second thought. The only reason why I haven’t yet is because I need you alive to answer a simple question. Where is Kakarot?” “Mmmh, Kakarot… Kakarot… the name does sound familiar…” The dark skinned saiyan tapped his bottom lip with his index finger in a mock-thoughtful expression. “Isn’t that the name of Raditz’s youngest brother? The one he died tried to retrieve as per your order?” Obsidian eyes narrowed tauntingly. The Prince didn't miss a hint of bitter accusation in his voice. “The very same. Now tell me where he is.” “What makes you think I know where he is?” The renegade immediately regretted the taunt. A sharp pain scorched his cheek and he flinched. The air around the finger the Prince had raised against him crackled with electric sparks. “The next time I won’t miss”, Vegeta warned, lowering his hand. “Don’t make me waste my time and answer my question.” “There’s no keeping anything from you, is there, Vegeta? Very well, I will. But only after you answer a question of mine.” “And what would that be?” “Why do you want to know?” Vegeta scoffed, irritated. “That is none of your business, traitor.” “On the contrary, my Prince, it is entirely my business”, Turles replied, eyes narrowing. There was no trace of his signature grin on his face now. “I was under the impression that you never did care about low-rank scum. Am I mistaking?” The tense silence that followed was more eloquent than any spoken answer. “What did you do to him?”, Vegeta uttered, very slowly. He didn’t like what the renegade seemed to be implying. “What did I do to him?” “Don’t play the fool, Turles”, Vegeta hissed through his teeth. “The only reason I can imagine to find you still alive is because Kakarot is not in the condition to give you what you deserve.” Turles grinned, sardonically. “I think you’re mistaking, Prince. I was referring to Raditz.”

Rough fur tickled his nose, wafting waves of sultry fragrance right in his face. As if he’d been in need of further encouragement. His nostrils twitched in delight. He brought his hips forwards, resting his heavy, tumid erection on the cleft of his companion’s rear. The long, muscled back arched shamelessly, pushing back against his groin, trembling and pleading. “This is quite the display.” “Shut up… it’s your fault I’m like this”, Raditz whined. “Oh, you love it. You wouldn’t keep coming back for more if you didn’t like me slipping you some of my Ambrosia. Am I wrong?” “Shut up…” Turles’ hand cupped the base of the fluffy appendage swaying right under his nose, stroking at the base. The action earner him an earnest whimper. He felt the slickened pucker twitch against the underside of his sex. “What would your precious Prince say if he saw you like this?”, the dark skinned saiyan purred, voluptuously grinding against flushed flesh. “On your hands and knees, begging to nicely to be taken for the third time in a row?” “The Prince does’t care”, Raditz groaned his frustration, his fingers digging in the soft earth as his hands curled into fists. “Such a shame…. And you did such a good job in purging this planet too.” Bronze hands cupped the firm fullness of his lover’s buttocks, appreciatively. “Your good efforts definitely deserve to be rewarded, don’t they?” His thumbs dug into his flesh, spreading it. “And I think I know just how to reward you for your services.” Pearl-white liquid trickled down from the gaping entrance. Raditz shivered, impatiently. “Then do it”, the long-haired saiyan uttered, looking at him over his shoulder, dark eyes full of lustful anticipation. The renegade needed no further encouragement. He plunged into raw, throbbing flesh his in one smooth stroke. The thoroughly used hole allowed him inside almost effortlessly. Nevertheless, his entrance was accompanied by throaty groans of pleasure. No matter how many times he’d used his lover’s body, the fit was still deliciously snug. Turles looked down, admiring the creamed pucker wantonly welcoming him inside once more. He pulled out almost all the way, before plunging back deep inside, slowly, his passage causing more of his previous orgasms to overflow from their point of conjunction. “Oh Raditz… you’re so full”, Turles purred fervently as his hips started to thrust steadily, ”I can’t wait to see how much more I can fit inside you…”   The other warrior’s complaints were muted by his fervor. The dark saiyan rejoiced his lover’s breathlessness and the feeling of warm spilt frothing around his shaft as he started to buck more and more wildly. Raditz’s legs started to give in under the increased force of his thrusting. Turles grinned ferociously, slamming his hips downwards relentlessly until the other was pressed flat against the ground. The sound of flesh smacking wetly against flesh with every motion filled his ears, the scent of their fluids filled his nose. His hand fisted the other’s mane, keeping his head down too as he pounded him hard into the ground. “You’re squeezing me so tightly, Raditz”, he groaned into the other’s ear, twisting his head to the side to lick at the side of his face. “It feels like you’re begging me to fill you up more…” "You truly have a filthy mouth”, Raditz uttered, with some difficulty. His voice was hoarse and quivering, but the lurid grin on his lips was the same that bent Turles’ mouth. "You sure didn't mind when you soiled it." “You didn’t mind that I did.” The renegade laughed heartily. “You’re right”, Turles husked into the crook of his neck, “You taste as good as you feel.” The maned warrior arched his back against his speeding thrusts, pleadingly. His tail coiled itself desperately around Turles’ arm. The renegade knew what he wanted and was willing enough to oblige him. He slipped his hand around his hip and grasped his weeping erection, pumping in time with his motions until Raditz came, spurting and twitching in his palm. His own pleasure peaked soon after, bursting between delicious spasms of hot, pulsing flesh. Turles grunted, hilting himself into throbbing tightness, and sighed, spilling his release deep within his lover. His arms started to buckle and he let himself lay on top of the other spent, panting saiyan, bearing down on him. Ambrosia had a funny way to make the afterglow as pleasurable as the act itself. The languorous abandon that followed the outburst of their passion was something to be enjoyed in its own way. Turles hummed his contentment, feeling warm spilt escape the taunt stretch of Radiz’s flesh as he rolled his hips wantonly a couple more times. “Oh, Raditz… you wonderful bastard…”, he groaned, running his mouth against the other’s shoulder. “If the prince didn’t already own this tight ass of yours, you could bet it I would claim you without a second thought.” “The Prince doesn’t own anything”, the other panted, beneath him. “I’m just loyal to him.” “You’re right, you are”, Turles conceded, playfully nipping at his earlobe. “You’re a loyal subject that doesn’t side with traitors. All you do is spread your legs for them.” He grinned, feeling the other shake with a breathless chuckle. “You know, not that I share my Prince’s dislike for you, but I can tell you could never win him over like this.” “Your Prince is very stubborn.” “If you swore loyalty to him, he could be your Prince too.” The renegade snorted. “You’re suggesting I willingly submit to Freiza? I’ve never even recognized the authority of the king, you think I’m gonna start bowing to that giant alien prick now?” “Of course not. That’s not what I meant.” “What did you mean, then?” “I meant that’s the only way you could have him.” Turles glanced at him. “So you think I couldn’t have him?”, he asked, raising a brow. He gave a sharp thrust. Even if his sex was softening now, he found it useful to remind the younger saiyan of his qualities. He was pleased to hear him grunt. “I’m saying he won’t have you”, the younger saiyan continued, turning slightly to flash him an arrogant smirk. “Not that he wouldn’t, though.” “Oh?” The renegade slipped an arm around the other’s neck, playfully trapping his head into a chokehold. “So now you’re suggesting he fancies me?” “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Why are you asking? Have you got your eyes on the Prince, after all?” “Are you jealous?” Raditz scoffed. “Of you?” Taunt muscles flexed abruptly underneath him. In the blink of an eye, Turles found himself back to the ground. The younger saiyan hovered over him, his mane falling disheveled and wild around his body. “I have no reason to. After all, I’m much closer to the Prince than you’d ever be”, Raditz teased, sarastically. “You brat…”, Turles growled, reaching upwards and grabbing fistfuls of his dark, coarse hair to pull him down against his snarling mouth. “You’re much closer to me than you’d ever be to him.” He ground his hips upwards to reiterate his point, letting the other feel his hardening length, trapped against the cleft of his rear. “All this talk about the Prince, but it’s my ass that keeps getting you this hard”, the younger saiyan hissed, tail waving in the air behind his back, tickling the renegade’s inner thighs. Turles raised a hand, revealing a vial full of concentrated, crimson sap and twirled between his fingers, meaningfully. “Don’t overestimate yourself too much.” Raditz burst out laughing. He was too worked up to take offense to that. He snatched the vial from the dark saiyan’s hands and sat up straight, pouring the sappy essence into his open jaws. He swallowed and looked down at Turles, leering at him meaningfully when his own sex started to swell once again. “Remind me why I don’t take you away with me on my ship?”, the renegade hummed when the younger warrior positioned himself onto his erection. “Because we fuck too hard for it to last in one piece”, Raditz purred as he sank down, spearing himself on the dark, throbbing shaft. “Oh, yeah…” Raditz bounced above his lap a couple times before Turles reached down to hold his hips steady and started thrusting violently into him, hard and fast. A wild, satisfied smile pulled at his lips when he heard his whimpers. Yes, he thought, this is the feeling… this is the joy only a saiyan can give. It was a glorious, dangerous feeling. At times like those he ached to sink his teeth into the flesh of his lover. As appealing as the idea felt, he resisted. It was probably just the Ambrosia playing its tricks.

“Raditz?” The renegade was provoking him. Vegeta wouldn’t have even paid mind to such disrespect in any other situation. He could feel the other’s power. It was much greater than it had it had been in the past, but it was still nothing compared to his own. And yet, he found himself playing along. “What does Raditz have to do with any of this?” “That’s for you to tell me, Prince.” “Just what are you insinuating here?”, Vegeta inquired. “I’m not insinuating anything. I’ll tell it plain, Vegeta”, the renegade replied. “You’ve never struck me as a particularly caring lord. Since where do you care about the wellbeing of your subjects?” “Since when do you care?” “Considering our race is facing extinction, it’s more than reasonable for me to. What’s not so reasonable is for you to kill your own subjects.” “I had nothing to do with Raditz’s death”, Vegeta declared, drily. “I would have to trust your word on that”, the renegade replied, shooting him a sharp glance. “But I know Napa’s death is on your head. I’ve heard it. I was listening through your scouters.” The Prince ran his tongue across his bottom lip, thoughtfully. There was no point in denying. “I did. And I don’t have to explain myself to you.” “You don’t”, Turles conceded, “But I hope you’ll indulge me anyway.” “I didn’t have the impression you cared so deeply for my general”, Vegeta teased. “In fact, I didn’t. He was a handsome saiyan, but that was all he was to me. To you, on the other hand… He was a soldier, a general, a tutor, maybe a mentor, even-” “Don’t exaggerate”, Vegeta cut him short. “Mine is just legitimate curiosity, Prince”, Turles resumed, unfazed, ”Raditz and Napa were saiyans, just like you and me, but you’ve forsaken them or killed them. Why should you care for what I might want with Kakarot?” “Kakarot is different!” The reply came far too quick not to elicit suspicion. “So he is”, Turles agreed, giving him a knowing smirk. “He is far stronger than he has the right to be. But, in the end, he is a still third class. Like me. Surely, he’s not strong enough to interest the Prince in that way.” “I have a score to settle with him”, Vegeta explained, drily, “And I won’t let anything nor anyone stand between me and him.” Turles looked him over for a long instant. There was an arrogant glimmer in his gaze that said he wasn’t going to let that dismissiveness fool him. “Understood. That does sound reasonable. But you see, Prince...”, he paused, “I have a score to settle too.” “I have nothing to do with Raditz’s death, if that’s what you’re trying to imply. I sent him on a simple mission and he failed me. He died on the job, like the disappointment he was. I never had the chance to punish him after that. I had nothing more to do with his end than you did.” “I know. Kakarot’s to blame for his death on top of the demise of my crew. I have more than just one debit to score with him, after all.” Vegeta’s eyes hardened. “If anyone is going to kill him, that is going to be me.” Turles glanced at him from half lidded eyes, dark lips drawn back on sharp, white fangs. He looked, dark and dangerous, confident about a truth that laid secret behind his enigmatic smile. “Is that so?”, he purred low in his throat. Vegeta knew that look well. And he didn’t like it one bit. “If you laid as much as a finger on him”, the Prince uttered, drawing his words out, emphatically. “I won’t hesitate to kill you. Even if you were the only remaining saiyan.” That was the Prince he remembered, ever so patient. Then again, Turles wasn’t any different either. Two rotating orbs of energy blasted from both his palms, launching towards the Prince of saiyans at high speed. Rapid like lightning, Turles launched himself down the branch, and launching himself at the enemy. The Prince had just deviated his attacks when the renegade was on him, a powerful leg raised high to kneed him in the back and fists descending from above to get a shot at the head. For a second he was convinced he’d hit the mark. Instead, both his attacks met with nothing. The Prince had moved so fast he could have sworn he’d not moved at all. The wild joy that had taken over him washed away quickly when he realized the Prince had moved behind him. “If you’re eager to know how Zarbon felt when I blasted a hole in his chest, you only have to say so.“ Zarbon? Could he be for real?, he thought, feeling a chill run down his spine. He killed Zarbon? The dark saiyan spun wildly on himself, trying to land a kick. But the result was always the same. His blows met with nothing but air. “I have to admit, you’re far stronger than I thought”, he conceded, flying backwards to gain some ground to retreat.   “Oh, I’m still far stronger than you think”, Vegeta replied, staring at him, still in midair. “Trust me. There is no fruit in the universe that would give you a chance against me.” “Confidence is a good look on you, Prince”, Turles retorted, “But you always were far more boastful than  you have the right to be.” Vegeta’s lips curled into a nasty, cocksure smirk. The renegade knew it did not bode well for him. “Tell me, then”, the Prince wondered, bold and deliberate in the phrasing of his sibylline threat, “Are you relying on one of your fruits right now?” The renegade had to restrain himself from flinching visibly. “Why? Would it make a difference?”, he asked, with a smirk. He tried to keep up the facade of cockiness, but it was hard to when he was starting to realize just how unfavorable the power imbalance was for him. “You’re right.” Vegeta’s grin did nothing but widen. “It wouldn’t.” Turles didn’t see him move. All he knew was that one second he was far and the next he was right in his face. All he had the time to do was feel his heart skip a beat the instant before a devastating punch that never landed. His eyes darted downwards, seeing the Prince’s knuckles had stopped a breath away form his stomach. The fist hadn’t hit him, but the shockwave did. He felt air lashing against his skin so violently it took his breath away. He met Vegeta’s eyes and he knew he’d been holding back that entire time. Turles may have had his fun teasing and taunting him, but he was the one being mocked. Standing so close to his Prince, he could feel a wave of raw power scorch his skin, a dormant force, yet to be unleashed. He looking into dark irises and saw it simmer beneath the surface. A drop of cold sweat ran down his throat as he swallowed, drily. He felt fear, apprehension… and - no use to deny it- a profound, stirring pull of arousal. “Did you really stand up to Zarbon?”, was all he managed to ask. ���Yes. But that is but a small feat for me now. And, to answer your next question…”, Vegeta begun, voice hoarse and low in his throat. “Not even Frieza could stand up to me as I am now.” The dark skinned saiyan didn’t have to think twice to know it was the truth. Then, finally, he was met with an unforgiving blow. A harsh jab threw him off his balance. He flipped backwards, bounced off his hands and launched himself backwards, barely avoiding an orb of energy that crashed at the ground, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Turles took advantage of the great quantity of dust that had clouded the air to shoot a rapid sequence of beams himself. He growled when he saw all the luminous trajectories being deviated. One bounced back directly aimed at his head. He managed to dodge that one by a thread. He turned his face sideways, seeing the beam miss his face by a few inches. He could feel the heat of it on his skin. It all happened in the blink of an eye. When his gaze turned forwards again, the Prince’s face was right in front of him. Turles had no time to react. A fist smashed against his stomach, making him double over as he was sent flying upwards and then sideways when a heavy kick followed. His back hit the tree trunk. “Enough playing around.” Vegeta landed silently in front of him, arms folded, staring down at him with commanding imperiousness. “I trust you understand the position you’re in right now.” Turles coughed a couple of times and then his coughing turned to a chuckle. “You’d kill me for him, Prince?”, the renegade insinuated, shooting him an irreverent glance. In response, Vegeta powered up abruptly, letting his power spike fearfully so fast he sent a pulse rippling through the air around him. “If you have any love for the race you deserted, show some respect to the saiyan who avenged it.” Oh Damn… It had been nothing but a warning, but it had been more than enough to send blood coursing hot through his veins. More than that, Turles felt the whole tree shake beneath him. The foliage rustled noisily. The renegade couldn’t believe his luck. The young Prince, so strong and proud… way too strong and proud to be ahead of his own arrogance. A heavy, crimson rain of thick, viscous drops feel down on them both, coating the ground with slippery sweetness. Turles saw his opponent’s pupils widen and his nostrils twitch. He closed his eyes, a victorious grin bending his lips as he inhaled the saccharine fragrance deeply. A low, hoarse chuckle rumbled in his chest. “What’s so funny, lowlife?”, came the harsh reproach. The saiyan who killed Frieza… The chuckle died out but the smirk was still plastered on his lips. I guess I have no way to talk my way out of this, after all. “You win, Vegeta. I’ll be honest with you”, Turles begun, opening his eyes and rejoicing the sight of a damp, panting Prince. The Ambrosia was starting to work. “I think it’s funny that you’ll still have me believe you truly wish to kill me.” “Do I have to give you another taste of my power?” “Only if you wish. Though, I can’t guarantee I won’t enjoy it.” The Ambrosia was accentuating the effects of their fight. Turles could feel himself stiffen in his spandex shorts. There was no reason to hide it. He was pleased to see his Prince’s eyes drift downwards to his crotch as much as he was to notice how the other warrior’s suit was growing tighter too. “You’re a sick bastard, Turles.” “Maybe so. But you never minded as much as you would have me believe, didn’t you?” The Prince scowled darkly at him. “I must have hit you too hard on the head. Or maybe not hard enough.” “Don’t play coy, Vegeta. You showed me your power. If you truly wanted me dead you could achieve that much with a flick of your finger. The good news is… you don’t have a reason to.” He glanced up at him, smugly. “You see… If I truly wanted Kakarot to be dead, he would be by now.” Vegeta’s eyes widened ever so slightly, betraying his relief. “That his good news. To you. I might go easy on you, after all.” “I had no doubt about it.” “Meaning?” “You always did have a soft spot for me.” Vegeta scoffed. “There’s little point in denying it. Especially now”, Turles continued, gazing downwards at the Prince’s crotch. “It’s your damn drugs’ doing and you know it well.” “Maybe. But nothing changes the fact that you could have killed me anytime and you never did, no matter how much I’ve angered you.” Silence followed. At any other moment, that condescending familiarity would have earned him a harsh lesson. Nevertheless, that confidence succeeded into eliciting the Prince’s sympathies somehow. “Fine. I’ll hand it to you”, the Prince granted, a slight smirk pulling at his lips, “You always were a handsome saiyan, Turles. But nothing more.” “Right back at you, Vegeta. I’ve never felt a strong sympathy for royalty and rulers but even my aversion couldn’t stifle the authority of your beauty. I only regret my looks weren’t enough to favor my leaning towards you”, the dark saiyan confessed him, letting his eyes feast on the figure of his Prince. “You always were a smooth talker,” the Prince acknowledged, “It’s too bad you fill your mouth with words bigger than your actions.” “And your actions speak louder than your words.” Turles could feel the heat radiating from him, a warmth much difference from his raw, electric aura. If he chose his words carefully, he could kindle a flame that could have sated his own. “Kakarot is quite handsome too. But there is more to it, isn’t there?”, he suggested, cautiously. “That is none of your business”, Vegeta growled. Turles winced when the shorter saiyan stomped his foot on the trunk, right next to his head. When he opened his eyes, however, the sight was more than rewarding. Vegeta was towering over him, his eyes burning into his own. “You’re getting too cocky for my tastes, traitor. Don’t push it.” “You say that, but cockiness got me pretty far into your graces”, the dark saiyan retorted with a tilted smirk. “Don’t make me regret it. ‘Cause then you will too.” “I better don’t give you any reason to regret it, then”, the renegade purred, casting his eyes downwards towards the strain in his Prince’s blue spandex that both of them had ceased to ignore. “You look pretty worked up, Vegeta”, he suggested, helpfully, glancing upwards, staring into a murky abyss of ill-concealed desire. “Maybe I could lend a hand… if my Prince permits.” For once, the epithet hadn’t been sarcasm and it all played in his favor. The dark saiyan tentatively ran his hands up his liege’s elegant, sturdy legs. A slightly tremor throbbed beneath his fingertips but no harsh words followed his offer. Obsidian eyes locked together, intensely. Turles could smell a promising scent in the air, the rich, dark notes of arousal, the leniency of willful indulgence… and the sweet, aroma of victory. He felt his mouth water. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Vegeta spoke. “Procede.”

[karendtregaskin]

RIP Anita Pallenberg

This was what I was actually looking for in my sketchbook, from some point in the early 90s. A woman who seeped into my pores so thoroughly at such a tender age I cannot imagine what I would be like without her influence.

I encountered her for the first time, as a Durannie, aged about 13 or 14, staying up all night to watch Barbarella on the late movie. Her presence was electrifying, her sense of dangerous yet erotic malevolence. By the time I saw Performance, a film that was to become a personal favourite in my early 20s, I was already deeply smitten. I used to watch the tape over and over, just forwarding to her parts. She exuded a sense of mischief, of danger, of unapologetic wickedness that was like catnip to a repressed convent-school girl like me. I am aware that she may have been awful, even destructive, to many people around her, but oh! the freedom to be wicked and unapologetically so, in the face of that unrelenting 60s "under my thumb" misogyny! How I envied her freedom to be bad.

She was the first woman I had ever seen whose smouldering bisexuality seemed to be solely for her own pleasure. Her gender fluidity blew my mind. If I ever had a pointing at the television, "Yes, yes, it's me!" moment, it would be the scene in Performance where she projects her own breast onto her male lover's chest, and explains that everyone "has two angles, male and female angles". I was entranced by early photos where she seemed to have remade Brian Jones over in her own image. He slowly turned into her: hair colour, cut, clothes, until she left him, and he spent the rest of his short life turning every other girlfriend into her. There's a whole chapter of queer culture that could be written about her, her androgyny, her gender fluidity, the bisexuality that always gets erased in the "girlfriend, muse, mother" rock chick narrative. All the queer culture I encountered in the 80s that was cool, seemed to be all men. And yet, here was this unrepentantly bisexual woman who was deeply, dazzlingly cool. She triggered in me a wonderful, fluttering confusion, as to whether I wanted to be her, or whether I wanted to fuck her. This somehow gave me permission to be who I was, neither man nor woman, gay nor straight, but somehow all angles at once.

I read every scrap of information I could find about her. It's funny; I used to be notorious for keeping a huge collection of Rolling Stones biographies in my bathroom. What most people didn't realise was that it wasn't for Mick or Keef or even hapless Brian; my obsession was with Anita. Marianne Faithfull described her as fiercely intelligent and dazzlingly charismatic, speaking this hipsterese mash-up of three or four languages. She raved that "other women simply evaporated beside her" then confessed "if you went out for a night with Anita, you stood a very good chance of getting killed." For much of my devil-may-care 20s, I aspired to live like that. (Yes, it nearly killed me.)

It was that toughness, that daring, that utter recklessness that came with being a real survivor that drew me to her. I copied her shamelessly; Anita was like a magic cloak of protection I could draw around me that made me invincible. She survived things that would have knocked out any mortal woman; a decades-long drug addiction was the least of her troubles. On one of her first modelling assignments, she described having been raped, and yet she refused to let that cow her. Brian Jones beat her, badly - she turned around and destroyed her abuser in a fitting revenge. Not with violence, but by leaving him for his bandmate and close friend, and taking the balance of the band with her. That's the thing about Anita - any piece that describes her as a mere "groupie" gets the balance of power completely wrong. She shaped that band, moulded them, introduced them to art and culture (she was one of Warhol's Pop Girls before moving to London to join Brian) - and, much like Marianne, wrote, uncredited, one of their best riffs. (The howling witches' chorus on Sympathy For The Devil.)

Her clothes, her Style, her look... you need only look at photos of dorky Keef before and rock'n'roll Keef after Anita, to understand her influence. To call her a "model" is an understatement on the effect of her Style. What she did was create a visual vocabulary that translated femme into rock'n'roll and rock'n'roll into femme. You can still see her shining from so many hippie-boho-gypsy-rock-chick style blogs that it's become a total cliché, but even a cliché has an original, and she was that original.

The last, most surprising, and yet somehow least surprising thing I discovered about her, I found out this morning. A friend of mine, a style journalist who interviewed her more recently, told me that in the course of a two hour interview, the thing she enthused about most was her allotment. Like me, in her later years, Anita discovered gardening as the ultimate creative act. It amuses me to think somehow of this ultimate witch of the 60s becoming a weather witch of the garden. Such germinative powers seem fitting for such a germinal influence.

[ladydwarfbadari]

Lucius Trevelyan: Character Profile

I might as well admit this character’s not going away, so he’ll get a little profile

(this one’s a tad bit shorter than Cadash & Adaar’s cos I never really intended to go anywhere with him, but I‘m still jamming it under a read more. For tradition.)

History: 

Lucius Trevelyan is the youngest son in his family, having one older sister and two older brothers, making him basically surplus to requirement as far as House Trevelyan goes.

He was trained in martial skills in his youth in addition to having a private tutor in the normal subjects (history, theology, natural sciences, mathematics, a little diplomacy that only partially stuck).

In his late teens he went through his ‘rebellious” phase and joined the city guard at Ostwick for a few years, although he was never allowed to participate in the more dangerous patrols (although he didn’t know that until much later, when he happened to overhear the guard captain laughing about it with one of the lieutenants - he’d been allowed to join and stay because his father had given the guard captain permission, with some limitations, thinking Lucius would ‘get it out of his system”).

His father had considered giving him to the chantry to become a Templar when he was a child, but his mother was quite attached to him and doted on him, and protested at the idea. She didn’t want him to be separated from his family for such lengths of time.

For the most part, Lucius had a very privileged and insulated upbringing. His family spent their time split between a country estate several miles outside of Ostwick and a large manor house in the city, and he saw little else of the world. He had some considerable skill with a greatsword and had participated in the Grand Tourney on a few occasions in his twenties and thirties. He never brought home the top prize, but he always ranked respectably.

His family were participants in the proceedings at the Conclave, as they were well-connected with the Templars, many Trevelyans over the generations having joined the order. Several of Lucius’s cousins were also present with the Templars. He was not a Templar himself, but being a devout Andrastean and one interested in combat in general, he’d always been fascinated by the order.

That he later reaches out to the remaining Templars, and indeed chooses to take up the Templar’s training, if not formally join their order, is hardly surprising.

Personality/orientations: 

Lucius Trevelyan grew up on a steady diet of history (not exactly unbiased, though) and tales of chivalry and adventure. He had something of an overactive imagination as a child and dreamed of making a name for himself with feats of arms.

His eldest brother was the one who was groomed as his father’s successor, and his middle brother was the one who took up the day-to-day running of the estate and the family’s finances. That left Lucius with a great deal of freedom in some ways, but in other ways he was sheltered and cosseted - mostly by his mother, who doted on him and kept him close. His father loved his mother deeply and did not have the heart to take her “pet” away, but tried to balance her influence by making sure Lucius had opportunities for more vigorous pursuits. He made sure Lucius learned how to handle a sword and encouraged his enthusiasm for the warrior’s arts.

On the whole, the end result was a somewhat fanciful and sentimental personality, although it would be foolish to assume that Lucius is stupid. He’s a bit ignorant of the ways of the world and kind of dense in some ways, his ideas about the “little people” are a bit backward, to say the least. He hasn’t seen the worst of the world and doesn’t quite believe it.

He does have an intense loyalty to those who aid him as well as a strong sense of honor. He wants to see justice done, even if he doesn’t always have the wisdom to know what justice really is. He’s not afraid to spill blood, either, and is perfectly capable of being quite spiteful toward those he feels have done him wrong, or have hurt those he believes were defenseless.

It is shortly after his 42nd birthday that the Conclave’s disastrous events occur and he is declared the “Herald of Andraste” and he embraces the title enthusiastically. It’s as though he’s finally the main character in one of his childhood storybooks and he couldn’t be more pleased. He truly believes he is the Maker’s chosen and that he was appointed to save the world from the Breach, and, later, Corypheus himself. Nothing ever quite completely divests him of this belief, even after his memories return and he learns the “mark” was given to him accidentally. He still believes the hand of providence spared his life, somehow.  it’s all a bit silly, but good luck getting him to see sense.

Oh, and he’s very, very gay. He has zero interest in women. He’s friendly with them, but does not connect with them deeply, with few exceptions, and definitely does not want to climb into bed with any of them.

Relationships:

Lucius has had a few boyfriends over the years, but none of them really worked out in the long run. Some he parted on good terms, a couple ended quite dramatically, but them’s the breaks I guess.

Once he’s the Inquisitor, he takes quite an interest in a few of his new comrades, although his success is... mixed. He flirted shamelessly with Cullen until the other man finally cottoned onto what he was doing and turned him down flat (alas!) and Blackwall was clearly uninterested from the start (tragedy!). Dorian seemed interested in him, but the Tevinter mage was a bit young. And a little clean-cut for Lucius’s taste - he likes a lover who isn’t afraid to get dirty (in oh so many ways).

Then they recruit the Iron Bull and Lucius is basically dribbling down his shirt on a regular basis. Took ages for him to get any real response out of Bull, but apparently a bit of dragon-slaying is the way to a freshly-minted Tal-Vashoth’s heart, and Lucius couldn’t be more pleased.

Lucius is fairly outgoing, not completely extroverted but hardly reserved either. He enjoys socializing and is found in the Herald’s Rest frequently. He gets along well with the warriors in the group, and finds himself agreeing with Cullen and Cassandra most of the time. Blackwall’s a bit harder for him to read, and he sees less of the Grey Warden than the others, as the man tends to keep himself to himself. He appreciates Josephine’s insight although sometimes he feels she is too kind. He enjoys Varric’s stories (and pretty much everyone likes Varric anyway). He and Vivienne have some interesting conversations. Solas confuses the hell out of him but is.... cordial. Sera confuses the hell out of him and is.... less than cordial. Although he finds her kind of amusing in her own way. Lucius is rather attached to Cole despite not really being keen on spirits. He knows he would have been demon chow at Therinfal if Cole had not intervened, and he feels he owes the strange boy a life debt and intends to defend Cole so long as he chooses to remain with the Inquisition.

Colors: gold, white and blue

Song: (to be determined, prob something silly by Vampire Weekend idk)