#read: gifting your loved one pelts of very dangerous animals

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Heart of Thunder - Chapter 2

It’s here people! Also a Link to AO3 like always!

Nyx and Cor talk about what happened like the responsible grown-ups they are. Nyx flails and Cor is way too stubborn for his own good. 

List of words: Galahkari = people of Galahd ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit 

Nyx threw back his head and laughed. He laughed and laughed until he cried and the muscles in his stomach started to protest. Some of the onlookers still mingling around the General – Leonis – Cor – and him stopped and stared, but didn't dare to come any closer. Right the opposite. They seemed to be happy to stay where they were and loudly, with quite a few exaggerated movements, discuss what they had just witnessed.

Cor – and he really was Cor now was he? Not General, not Ser. But Cor. Nyx squashed the voice in his head whispering about how this could go south so damned fast it wasn't even funny. His fiancée – oh ahtrii, he had a fiancée now! - still hadn't moved since Nyx had touched their foreheads in a Galahdian greeting between close family members. That must have been a bit much.

He... probably shouldn't have done that.

Kohna.

They had been engaged for less than 15 minutes and already he had messed up.

Nyx barked another laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the situation and grinned at Cor, wide and free and possibly a touch hysteric.

He could practically hear the Elders complain about this already.

For but a moment he looked from Cor to his best friend. Libertus stood there, grinning from one ear to the other, and gave him a thumbs up when their eyes met. Nyx would have liked nothing more at this exact moment but to painfully murder him. Crowe stood half a step behind Libertus and flashed Nyx a smile that made him want to hide in a hole. Then she proceeded to size Cor up like he was a piece of meat. It was better not to think too hard about this, for the sake of his own sanity.

The warm hand coming to rest on his free forearm nearly startled him bad enough to hiss. It was Cor. His stormy eyes blazed with something Nyx could not name and made his stomach flutter. The older man leaned in the tiniest bit and just kept looking at him with a slight frown on his face. In a sudden bout of nervousness Nyx licked his lips and jerked his head towards the nearest door leading into the barracks.

Cor nodded, his frown getting a bit less intense, and let him go.

They walked in silence. It wasn't tense exactly, but charged with something Nyx really didn't want to think about right now. Thankfully the crowd let them through without incident. It made him so happy that his people weren't prone to sticking their noses in other peoples businesses, unlike most Lucians.

Their gossip rags were a thing of his nightmares. Not that he would ever admit that to anybody. Nyx opened the door towards a small break room he knew to be empty at this time of the day. There wasn't much in it. A small table with four chairs grouped around it and a tiny kitchenette with barely enough space for an electric kettle, an assortment of teas and a few cups.

He could really use a tea right about now. With practised motions he set about preparing two cups of bamohn root tea after getting a silent nod out of Cor. Nyx suppressed a sigh. This was going to be so difficult.

They waited another few minutes in utter silence until the tea was finished. It didn't help Nyx' nerves at all. Barely there tremors shook his hands as he waited for the tea to be ready. In an attempt to calm himself the fuck down – he was the man who could kill a behemoth in one hit; he shouldn't need to calm down when he was about to have a talk with somebody, damn it – he stroked the soft fur of the coeurl's skin he still wore wrapped around him.

It was utterly beautiful. Judging from the form and width of the two long conducting whiskers this one had been a fully grown male that had probably lived somewhere near the Taelpar Crag. There and around the meteor plants and animals tended to grow... strangely or not at all. This coeurl had been nearly as big as his Galahdian cousins, but still lacked their horns.

Cor was watching him, lounging in his metal chair like a confident predator waiting for his prey.

Both of them stared at each other over their steaming cups, the smell bringing a certain comfort and a stab of painful longing to Nyx. It reminded him of a home that was long gone. He sighed.

“It just had to be a coeurl's skin,” Nyx started, more to himself, with a weak smile that was gone as fast as it had appeared.

“Coeurls and Ulrics belong together. That much I learned over the years. What I don't know is what it means,” said Cor, his hands wrapped around the garishly yellow chocobo cup in front of him.

Nyx tried to keep the pleasant surprise off his face, but he knew he had failed at that endeavour with the way the other man looked at him.

“I have worked with you – you call yourselves Galahkari, right? I have worked with the Galahkari for over a decade now; since before Galahd proper fell. During that time I was able to pick up a few things.”

“What kind of things?” Nyx couldn't help but ask. This... actually bode pretty well.

For them.

Potentially.

Better not get ahead of himself there.

“I know the colours of every clan within the Kingsglaive as well as any potential feud between them. My apologies for not always managing to keep them separated. What I managed to pick of your language is mostly limited to curse words. Other than that your people are hard to pin down. I do not give much stock in the things 'most people know'. To me, they have been mostly proven false.”

“That's... quite a lot.” For a Lucian, he didn't say, but by the way the General tilted his head in an acknowledging nod, he had heard it anyway.

A short silence followed, in which Nyx busied himself with sipping at his tea. He tried his best at gathering his thoughts. No matter how he would explain this, it was bound to get messy. He swallowed his dread and looked the other man square in the eyes.

“What you did,” Nyx started and motioned with a hand in the free space between them, “is a commitment for life on both our parts. It's ancient and sacred; it has been done this way since the first of my ancestors settled on Galahd.” He stopped, not quite sure how to continue.

“And what did I commit us both to?” asked Cor, his face utterly serious.

Nyx' first instinct was to grin and say something along the lines of 'nothing too bad', but... well. So he took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“We're engaged.”

It took great effort not to wince.

“Engaged,” repeated Cor, his voice flat and without any inflexion whatsoever.

Nyx nodded. “Yes.”

“...How?”, asked Cor after a few heartbeats of tense silence.

With a mirthless grin Nyx stroked the silver and grey fur over his shoulders. Stormy eyes tracked every little movement his fingers made.

“It just had to be a coeurl's skin,” he repeated his earlier words. “Anything else – anything at all – and I could've declined without losing face or angering my ancestors and the spirits. But with this? Declining now means we're inviting a worse fate than death. It means curses, and those are not to be trifled with. You just hit all the right marks to make it impossible to say no. A coeurl's fur given to me – an Ulric – in front of a full hunting party and those closest to me in the absence of clan members and blood family.”

He knew he was starting to ramble, but right now he didn't care. He just needed to make the other man understand that he hadn't had any other choice but to accept. That would just have invited tragedy. There were stories from the early days of his clan, where members had declined such an Offering of Intention, and none of them ended well.

“So you made this decision for both of us because you fear being cursed by ghosts,” stated Cor. Through the cracks of his iron composure Nyx could finally see the disbelieve and fury he had expected from the moment they had stepped into this room.

Nyx wanted to wince, stand up and go somewhere where he could throw himself off a cliff or something, but he didn't. Because that would be denying himself the chance to... he didn't know what, but he wouldn't let it slip his grasp. So instead, he bared his teeth in an aggressive snarl. How could he make this man understand?

For the first time the older man broke eye contact and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

“My apologies,” he murmured in a low voice that sent shivers down Nyx' spine, and inclined his head. “If somebody should know that spirits and ghosts are more powerful than most people think, it is me.”

Taking a deep breath, Nyx tugged at his clan-braid and tried to calm down. It was okay, they were not going to kill each other, everything was fine.

“It's alright,” he said. It wasn't Cor's fault that he was a straahnos – an unknowing outsider.

Nyx felt the other's gaze weight heavily upon him. It clearly communicated how convinced he was of that statement: that was to say, not at all. Okay, so maybe it wasn't alright, but Nyx was hardly going to admit that now. There were more important things to focus on right now than his religious believes, or why Cor Leonis of all people had insight into spirits and curses.

“Explain this to me. From the beginning.”

It sounded more like an order than a request, but sill, Nyx couldn't help but feel grateful about having a chance to explain all of this. Again he tugged at his braid. His mother and sister would have berated him for that habit. He started to talk before his thoughts could linger on them.

“You said you already know that coeurls and my clan are connected in some way. There are stories about how Ulrics are reincarnated coeurls, another says that in the early days we were blessed by the Queen of the Jungle and then there is one about a coeurl that took on a human form to marry a member of my clan.

In Galahkari culture, when we are interested in marrying someone, we present that person with a hunting trophy. It can be anything from any animal – bones, teeth, fur, feathers, even the meat or blood – as long as we hunted it ourselves and without help. The more difficult the better and the chances of the suit being accepted are also higher the closer the animal is tied to the clan in question.”

Nyx took a sip from his now lukewarm tea. His nervousness had largely left him. Cor sat in his chair across from him, straight backed and attentive, listening carefully to every word he said. That was... good.

“When you presented me with a coeurl's skin you acknowledged their ties to my clan, and that you didn't hunt it down but killed the poachers who did it, and did that alone, shows that you respect the sanctity coeurl's have among my people. You did everything right without even knowing what you were doing! You even presented me with it in front of the all the right witnesses.”

Cor had no idea how ridiculous that was. It was almost as if... oh please no. No. If his ancestors truly had decided to meddle, he was getting Libertus to find the nearest snake so that he could have a talk with them. Meddlesome old coots, the whole lot of them.

“I couldn't say no!”

He looked at the General with carefully guarded eyes. Maybe they could make this work. Nyx could only hope. And, oh, did he hope in the deepest parts of his very being. Greyish blue eyes bore into his own, their intensity nearly stealing his breath away. They sat there for a long time, both deep within their own thoughts, their gazes tangled into each other. Neither seemed able to look away.

“What does it entail?”

The sudden question startled Nyx into blinking and breaking eye contact. “What?”

“Being engaged,” said Cor with an unimpressed look.

Nyx did his best to fight down the heat threatening to rise in his cheeks out of embarrassment. “I will give you something in return as physical proof that I accept your proposal. Everything else is decided between the couple until the wedding. That's a whole other thing we'll have to talk about later.”

Cor frowned but didn't comment. Nyx really didn't want to talk marriage customs yet, or tell the other that he normally would have put a braid in his hair as an answering claim. Ahtrii, he needed a drink.

“I'm not a Galahdi- a Galahkari,” Cor said at last.

“Galahkar,” Nyx corrected absent-mindedly. “Galahkari is the plural. But it doesn't matter if you are or aren't. What matters, is that you observed traditions and proved yourself worthy that way.”

Cor nodded to show that he understood and cast him a look Nyx couldn't discern. “This will not go over well with the royal court. His Majesty will just be happy that I'm 'finally settling down' and Clarus will say his piece, but he won't do anything. Can I trust your people to not raise a stink about this, Ulric?”

“Call me Nyx. Everything else would be strange,” he muttered, utterly relieved that he wasn't making it harder for them than it already was. He wondered amusedly, if the King had tried to get himself involved in the other's love life before. It certainly sounded like it.

Cor nodded. “Nyx, then. Call me Cor.”

The younger man nodded, barely able to hide his relief. He would have called Cor by his first name anyway, but it was nice to have permission to do so.

“You saw how they reacted when you gave me the pelt. You took it from poachers and gave it to me. Not even the traditionalists will say anything against that.”

“I sense a story there.”

“There is,” nodded Nyx. “You'll most likely hear it very soon.”

Humming in acceptance, Co looked like he wanted to ask about that, but he didn't. Instead he raked his eyes over Nyx' form until they came to rest on the silver on grey fur. “I'll see that the other four pelts will also be brought to you,” he said.

Nyx really had to fight down a blush at that comment. That man had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it right anyway. He had nearly forgotten about the other four pelts. Another adult and three kits. He wondered if it could be considered an omen and promptly wanted to bury his head in his hands. Hopefully he hadn't jinxed it. With his luck, he probably had.

“Thank you,” he murmured and had to force himself to keep looking at the other man.

Was that a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips? Inwardly, Nyx floundered at the sight. This was... nope, not going there now. Right now he was having a serious talk – with a man that was flirting with him like no tomorrow; four more pelts, four – and needed to concentrate. He probably didn't even know he was doing it, Nyx admonished himself.

The sudden ringing of a phone made him twitch. Cor scowled and pulled a phone out of the inner pocket of his black jacket. His gaze grew even darker when he saw the ID.

“Leonis speaking,” he practically barked into the speaker, and just like that he transformed into the cold and stern General he had known for years now.

It was such a stark contrast to the man he had been talking to just a few seconds ago that it made Nyx realize just how open the General had been with him. And expressive, he thought as he looked at the now completely closed off face. The man kept listening for a few moments before he hung up with a terse “I'll be there.”

He looked back at Nyx and his expression cleared again. Nyx opened his mouth to say something before closing it again, and swallowed.

“I'm sorry to have this cut short, but I'm needed.”

Cor said the last part in a way that made Nyx really not want to know what was going on. He swallowed the questions burning on his tongue anyway, down and nodded.

“Of course,” he said and stood up along with Cor.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” the older man said, pleasantly surprising Nyx.

“Tomorrow?” he couldn't help but ask, just to make sure.

“As you said, we cannot get out of this, and I refuse to marry a man I barely know.”

Nyx barked a surprised laugh, he didn't manage to keep down behind his teeth. Then a thought occurred to him and he felt stupid for not having thought to ask before: “Are you okay with this? Marrying me, I mean.”

“If you're asking, if I prefer the company of men, then the answer is no, but I'm not averse to it either. And you're not exactly hard on the eyes.”

Beneath Cor's heated gaze Nyx couldn't help the wide smile growing on his lips. “You're not bad looking, either,” he said and made an aborted move forward.

When he had done this earlier, the older man had clearly been overwhelmed with no idea what to do, so Nyx held himself back. However, Cor cast him a look that settled somewhere between curious and expectant as he stood by the door, one hand on the handle, but not leaving quite yet.

With silent steps Nyx drew near until they stood right in front of each other again. He saw understanding flash in Cor's stormy eyes as he leaned in, careful to telegraph his movements this time. They met in the middle, foreheads gently touching for maybe two seconds, before they drew back again. All the while they never lost eye contact.

“It's something that's only done between close family members,” said Nyx in way of an explanation at the other's questioning look.

Cor nodded and then he was out of the door without another word. When Nyx was sure that he was gone, he slumped back down into his chair and laid his head into his arms. The day was barely halfway over and he was already tired enough he could sleep for the rest of the day. His stomach fluttered pleasantly as he thought of tomorrow.

That was how Libertus found him not much later.

[rebel-blake]

LEXA X READER

for @tothetardissterek

I got another one done! I honestly think because I just finished reading To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before I am just in this huge mood to write some imagines... I even want to work on my fanfic for my other blog... its crazy! Plus the first day of school is today and I’m not ready, so I think I am trying to busy myself... but whatever lol enjoy! Requests are open!!

 Hi can I request a one-shot where Y/n(1of the100)is a nightblood(has black blood like Lexa) so Lexa takes her from MtWeather with her army to train and they fall in love. Y/n swears fealty Lexa and she declares y/n as Trikru?

1,481 words.

Reader POV

It has always been something that made you different. That put a barrier between you and all of the other kids on the arc. Something that your parents couldn’t deal with and they abandoned you, only to get floated for their decision later. People studied you, conducted tests on you. All because they didn’t know why or ho0w... and they were terrified. 

Now, you were on a pedestal. You were treated as a gift, as a godsend... you were treated like a person. All because of your blood. 

You can’t actually remember if it has always been black, or if it developed while you were younger. The only ones who knew were your parents and they were long gone. Abby Griffin was especially intrigued by your “condition” as they all liked to call it and would draw blood from you to see what was so different about it. You never heard the results. 

However, down on Earth, to the grounders, there was something significantly different about it in one aspect. It made you a god until you were killed because of it. 

How did you know all of this? One, from observing. Two from falling in love with Lexa, a fellow nightblood. 

It all started after Mount Weather. Luckily you were not discovered to have been a nightblood until most of the chaos was over. Unfortunately, you did not get to miss any of the torture or pain. The minute they began drilling and saw the blood that flowed from the wound they knew it was something special. 

You were screaming so much; no sound was coming from your mouth anymore. You could hear faint shouts from your people surrounding you but could never make out what was being said. 

The waves of agony and dizziness washed over you heavily, and you began to fear you were nearing the end. That’s when everything went dark. 

Next thing you know, you’re outside, and someone is carrying you. The air is light but somehow tastes incredible, like it’s the first time you’re experiencing it again. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the dim light above you, a small smile forming on your face until you realize who is carrying you. 

Lexa com Trikru, the Commander has you in her arms. Her eyes forward, a mission on her mind. 

You try to squirm but regret it instantly, as pain seeps back into you. 

Lexa drops her eyes to yours, and they soften, “Don’t move nightbleeder, you will lose too much blood, and we may not be able to save you.” 

Your mind filled with questions. How did you get into this situation? Where were Clarke and Bellamy? Where were your people? 

The more you began to worry, the woozier you got. You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to know what was to come of this. 

Just as you could feel Lexa slowing her pace, and other grounders scurry towards her, you lost yourself again. 

Your eyes fluttered open once more, and everything felt different. Your body seemed almost weightless, you couldn’t feel the blanket that lay atop you, nor the ground you laid on top of. Any remanence of pain you remembered was gone, and you couldn’t even pinpoint where the pain had been coming from. 

Tears began to feel your eyes as you came to the realization that you must be paralyzed, To not be able to feel anything around you, nor the pain it was the only solution. 

“Y/N... why are you crying?” Lexa’s concerned voice broke through your cries, and you turned to face her quickly. 

She was standing in the doorway of the room you were in, wearing quite casual of clothes compare to her usual attire. As you began to take in her appearance, the room finally came into clear detail as well. The walls were covered with animal pelts, with bows and arrows, and some swords lining the walls as well. 

You moved your hand slightly and felt the soft and thick fur of the blanket that had been weighing you down. Pushing your feet around, relief flooded knowing that you were in fact not paralyzed, But it only made you more confused. 

“Where am I? What is happening?” You asked, pushing yourself onto your elbows in the large bed. 

Lexa slowly began making her way towards you, softly resting against the edge of the mattress, “You are a nightbleeder... I couldn’t consciously leave you there to die or leave you untrained. You were badly injured as well. We had to get you to my best healer so we could begin before the war.”

You blinked incredulously, “Before the war? And what training are you talking about?”

Lexa sighed and scooted closer towards you. For some reason, you were not afraid of her, in fact, you almost welcomed her to get closer to you. There was some sort of warmness that oozed from her, and you enjoyed it. 

“In our culture, a child with blood as black as the night comes into the world, it means they have two destinies. Either to become the next Commander or to die fighting to be it. That is our way.” Lexa said this in a way that seemed as though you should have completely understood it, but you did not. 

“You force children to fight to the death since the day they are born?” You questioned, leaning towards her with interest. 

“Yes, it is so we can assure they are trained properly to become the next Commander. You never know when you will have to fight to be one. I could die tomorrow, and even the very young would have to fight for the seat... they all know and understand this as well. I have chosen you to train and fight, so maybe one day you could become Commander after me.” At this point, she was sitting directly in front of you, close enough the two of you could touch the other. 

“But why me?” She asked, clearing your throat to distract yourself from the beautiful girl that sat before you. 

“Simply because I could tell how strong you are. I mean, you’re not even afraid of me, despite how close we are. I could kill you in an instant from this distance, and yet you haven’t faltered in your stance. It shows a lot about you.” You comment, a small smile lifting her lips. 

You couldn’t help the blush that rose on your cheeks as her eyes traveled across you. 

At this point you had about no choice but to either agree or be killed, so you shrugged, “Sure, why not.” 

This answer brightened Lexa, and she sat up straight, her eyes staring directly into yours, “Then we start training tonight.” 

Lexa stands from your bed and points at the couch that sat a couple feet from the bed, “You will find clothes for your training there. I will come and get you when I am ready and we can begin.”

All you could do was nod, as you did not understand anything that was happening to you. 

Since that day, everything had changed in your lives. You had gotten stronger, almost too strong as Lexa would say, having almost won against her in multiple battles. You had also gained a great deal of knowledge from the grounders about Earth and the tribes themselves. The biggest thing that had changed, however, was you and Lexa. 

Not only were the two of you a dangerous machine out on the field against enemies, but also madly in love with one another. 

Spending basically every night together training and learning about each other obviously would come with no surprise of an outcome. 

It started innocently when she would offer her hand to you when you had been knocked to the floor, sparks erupted on your skin from just touching her. It began to evolve into something much more the longer and later the two of you trained. You went from sleeping on her couch to sleeping next to her in bed, to not sleeping at all. 

Having each other was all that either of you wanted any more. The time you spent together was always wonderful and magical. Pressing your lips against hers brought a fiery passion to the pit of your stomach and you loved it, You loved her. 

Soon after your training had ended, as it was obvious you were ready for anything, the two of you were lying in bed together, her hands running through your hair as your head laid against her chest. 

“Y/N...” She whispered softly to you, making sure you were awake, 

You smiled, “Yeah?” 

“I know we have talked about this before, and I know how you feel about it but, it is time. You have to swear fealty to me tomorrow so I can declare you Trikru and people will begin to accept you.” She said, her hands continuing through your hair. 

You could tell this was something she had been wanting to bring up and talk about for a while. You sighed, and lifted your head from her chest, meeting her eyes, “If that is what you really want, then, of course, I will.” You answered. 

Lexa’s eyes widened, and her smile was big and bright. Pressing her lips against yours passionately, her hand became entangled in your hair and the two of you laughed. 

“I love you,” she whispered, her forehead resting against yours. 

You pulled your head away and smirked, “Well, I love you too.” You began kissing her again, the heat building between the two of you. 

It was the first time either of you had actually said those words to the other. The both of you always knew it, and definitely weren’t the type who needed to hear it, but it felt like falling in love all over again. 

[cutiesonthehorizon]

Exorcist fic - The Price of Vision part 9

You can find the newest chapter of The Price of Vision under the cut, on AO3 or fanfiction.net. As always, thanks to all who reviewed and commented and specially to @starrylizard for her help with a quick beta. All mistakes left are my own. This part will have a bit more scenes taken straight from the show, I hope you won’t mind, but I wanted to add just a little something to them.

Hope you’ll enjoy and let me know your thoughts:)

 The night wasn't very kind to either of the men, their minds too disturbed by what happened on the island and the possibility that instead of helping Harper find a new home, they just put her into a more dangerous situation. The pleasant buzz Marcus felt from the beer whilst they were waiting for the ferry was long gone. What was left was a bitter taste in his mouth, a low key headache and a feeling that things were spiraling into some catastrophe. He lay down thinking about God, still trying to hear his voice but coming up empty. He wondered if he fell out of God's grace when he failed to see that the demon in Casey Rance wasn't really gone, when he dared to think it was that easy. Was it pride that was his downfall?

 No, Marcus thought, turning his head on the pillow. Pride wasn't his problem, not for a long time now. He’d been brought down on his knees too many times for that and after Mexico... any pride he could have felt was gone. So what was it? Did killing a man in front of the Pope bring on God's disappointment in Marcus? Was it drinking? Was it lust?

 None of those sounded right and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't God that lost faith in Marcus, but the other way around. Ever since his excommunication, Marcus felt empty, abandoned, cast out. Just like that child over forty years ago that was shown into boys home because he happened to kill his own father in self-defense. The child no one wanted to get close to, because he spilled blood at the tender age of seven. Killing seemed to be in his blood and, in those early days, Marcus often found himself running, hiding in tall trees as other children pelted him with rocks, shouting obscenities that cut deeper than any knife could.

 'Like father, like son!' Marcus still remembered hearing the director of the boys home say to the nurse who was tending to his scraped knuckles after he grew weary of running and finally repaid Billy with a punch of his own. That was the night he first touched a blade to his skin... not because he was scared of the others. Never of the others. No. That night, Marcus was scared of himself, of what he could become. It took almost five years until he stopped being scared of himself... it took him standing face to face with a demon, the bible and flickering candle the only thing separating him from pure evil. That's when he heard the voice, when he felt the warmth enveloping his whole body, and realized he would never again be alone because God was there with him.

 All those years, all those lonely days spent on the road in different motel rooms, leaving behind people he never allowed himself to get close in the first place, not after what happened to his little church mouse. After her, Marcus swore never to be that reckless again. It was a lonely life, but he still heard God's voice, felt his light coursing through him and knew he had purpose. What more can a man crave for, other than purpose?

 Until Gabriel. That was the moment Marcus started doubting. And it was Marcus, not God, who seemed to hold onto that doubt, hold onto the anger about the injustice of it all. But despite it all, Marcus believed and, even though he and God weren't on speaking terms, the warmth and light was there.

 And when one day a young priest from Chicago stepped into his room, that warmth and light shone so bright that Marcus screamed in anger. How was this fair? Eighteen months he was trying to reclaim his purpose, to find his path and trust in God. Eighteen months... and then he was sent a priest that didn't even believe in demons, yet he had the 'gift'.

 Marcus was angry then and it took him some time to accept that Tomas was sent his way for a reason. Saving Casey Rance and the Pope seemed to be reason enough... but then Tomas asked him to stay, to be his mentor. And Marcus felt some of the walls inside him crumbling, being replaced by hope. He felt needed and wanted and it was almost as good a feeling as when he sent his first demon back into the pits of hell.

 But where did all of this leave him now? He lost his collar... he lost his identity, the only thing he’d known since childhood. The excommunication felt like being stabbed in the stomach with a fiery knife and not even six months and hundreds of miles later did that feeling vanish.

 And today on the island, Peter brought up the question, the one Marcus feared the most. What was he now that he wasn't a priest? He didn't know. He was just an old guy with a bible and a rosary, 40 years of experience he was trying to teach Tomas, hoping that he would manage that before the younger man got himself or someone else killed. The way things were going, Marcus either needed to speed up his mentoring or hope that Tomas really was God's new chosen favorite and that the Almighty won't let any harm come to him. First step for that would be to let him go through the night without any heart stopping nightmares and visions.

 Marcus opened his eyes to a slit and looked at the unmoving form lying in the bed next to him. For once it seemed that Marcus' prayers were heard. Tomas looked to be asleep, snoring ever so softly. Marcus wished he could do the same, turn off his brain and just tune out, but it was impossible. There was so much to do in the morning and all they could go on was Tomas' vision and animals acting strangely. They knew nothing about the history of the island and Marcus was thinking about hitting the library first thing in the morning, then almost snorted. He wasn't really the type to sit around reading books and anyway, talking to people was his favorite past time. At least to some people... and the Fish and Wildlife bloke seemed more than willing to talk. Maybe he could ask around on the island, while Tomas could try and get them an invitation for a chat with Andy and the kids. With at least a partial plan formed in his mind, Marcus turned over in bed and willed himself to sleep, a soft prayer flowing from his lips.

 'Lead me to your still streams, O Lord, where I can kneel in the waters of life. Lay down my anxious thoughts and cast all my cares on You. Here I will wait a while, wait a while, and bathe in the life-giving waters...'

 The words were familiar and comforting, like being enveloped in a blanket. Marcus fell asleep before he even finished.

   When Tomas opened his eyes, skin damp from sweat and the heart beating wildly in his chest, it was still dark outside. Letting out a shaky breath, Tomas sat up on the bed and looked to his left, only to see that Marcus was sleeping, head half buried under a pillow and one of his legs sticking off the bed, as if he was trying to walk away in his sleep. Tomas swallowed, grimacing at the strange taste in his mouth. He was parched and at the same felt like his stomach was full of water, his chest burning as if he held his breath for too long. Tomas felt slight panic and reached towards Marcus, but paused mid motion. This was stupid. It was just a dream, nothing else. A dream he couldn't even remember anymore....

 Tomas shook his head. No, he already kept Marcus awake the night before, and there was no reason to trouble him with something that was just Tomas' imagination. Shuddering, Tomas tried to ignore the crawling feeling of something slick touching his skin. He needed to clear his head.

 Getting out of bed, Tomas checked the time and was surprised to see it was already five in the morning. That was the time he usually went for a run in Chicago, but nowadays he had other priorities... like exorcising demons or getting some much needed sleep. But just the thought of getting back into bed and closing his eyes made Tomas' breath hitch. He shot one more look at Marcus, making sure the older man was really sleeping, then he grabbed the bag with his clothes and vanished in the bathroom to quickly change into his running attire. When he left the motel room and the cold morning air hit his lungs, Tomas silently thanked God for the relief that flooded his body. He needed this, to run and put all thoughts behind... put all the visions behind, at least for an hour.

 When he returned to their motel, the sun was already coming up and the lump on the bed that was supposed to be Marcus squirmed when the front door clicked close.

 "If you didn't bring coffee, you can just turn back," Marcus grumbled from beneath the blanket and Tomas put a cup of steaming hot coffee on his bedside table with a smirk. It took Marcus a moment to smell the aroma and to peek an eye open. He sat up in his bed, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip, then he sniffed the air and grimaced.

 "That's just gross," he stated, giving Tomas a look.

 Tomas frowned, puzzled.

 "It's the same coffee you drank the last three days. What's the problem?"

 "The coffee's okay, but you smell like a locker room after a playoff."

 Tomas took a whiff of air and had to admit that he might've overdone it a bit with the run.

 "I thought the doc told you no heavy exercise for at least a week," Marcus reprimanded him and Tomas rolled his eyes.

 "I'm fine... and I needed the run. Had to clear my head before we go back there."

 "Right, ‘cause getting exhausted before actual work is such a good idea."

 "Running isn't exhausting. You would know that if you ever tried," Tomas said and went looking for some clean clothes.

 "I run only when someone's chasing me, just like any sane human being," Marcus retorted. Tomas snorted.

 "Now go, shower, before your stink ruins my coffee."

 "Next time, I'm getting you tea... one of those cheap ones from the vending machine you love so much," Tomas teased, then headed for the shower.

 "Blasphemy," Marcus muttered under his breath. "This is another test, isn't it?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling. There was no answer, but Marcus didn't really expect one anyway. The day was just starting and the strong coffee helped, clearing the cobwebs in his mind. Outside, the sun was shining and it promised to be a beautiful day. Marcus was pretty sure it wouldn't last.

  They left the truck in the car park and caught the next ferry heading for the island. They didn't really have a plan, except for trying to find out more information about the history of the island or the Kim's house. If there was really a demon, as Tomas' vision and the strange behavior of animals hinted, it most likely already took its victims before their arrival.

 "Do you think it is wise to split up?" Tomas asked, earning a raised eyebrow from Marcus.

 "I would've thought you would enjoy taking a break from my charming self," Marcus joked, but gave Tomas a thoughtful look. He was expecting Tomas to give him a scalding retort, or at least an easy smirk. Instead, Tomas leaned against the railing of the boat and looked at the water below.

 "What, no witty comeback?" Marcus stepped up next to Tomas and leaned against the railing too, their elbows touching. Tomas shook his head, but managed to give him a lopsided grin.

 "I think I'm still just a bit.... thrown, by those handprints. The meaning of them..." Tomas grimaced, the worry clear on his face. Marcus instinctively reached up and gave the nape of his neck a gentle squeeze.

 “Don't," Marcus said and his hand slid away with a final pat on Tomas' back.

 "What?"

 "Don't try to figure it out, Tomas. The more you think about these visions... the easier you make it for the demons to slip in along. If it was God's plan, you won't understand until it's time, anyway. And if it wasn't Him... the less time spent pondering, the better."

 Tomas looked at Marcus, surprised that he even admitted the possibility of the visions coming from God. He wanted to say that he's careful, that he won't let any demon slip into his mind without invitation, but he knew it would be a lie. He might be able to refuse demons access to his mind when they are face to face during an exorcism, but he had no control over the visions or over his dreams. That scared him more than he was ready to admit, especially after what happened with Harper. There were moments when his body and mind weren't his own and, even though he didn't want to admit it out loud, Tomas begun to realize that Marcus could've been right since the beginning.

 Pushing away from the railing, Tomas gave a small nod, then heeding Marcus' advice, changed the topic.

 "Are you sure I'm the right one to try and persuade Rose? After all, you're the charming one," Tomas smirked and Marcus rolled his eyes.

 "We might've had a bit of a rocky start with Rose. I think your collar combined with that kicked puppy look might be of better service in this case."

 Tomas snorted and shook his head.

 "You and a rocky start? Hard to imagine." Tomas remembered their first meeting when Marcus practically pushed him against the wall within the first two minutes. The second one wasn't much better with the ex-priest breaking into his apartment, but despite all of that, Tomas knew since the first moment that he could trust this man, that he needed him. And even though Marcus might've doubted the first vision that brought them together, Tomas was sure that wasn't the work of any demon.

 They’d reached the island and, as the boat docked in the port, any amusement Tomas felt was lost when he once again stepped onto the pier. The gust of wind brought warning whispers that made his skin turn up in goose bumps, but Tomas wasn't ready to let it deter him. Just the idea of leaving the island, of leaving Harper and the other kids in danger, made his steps more determined.

 "What will you be doing while I try to convince Rose about needing our help?"

 Marcus shrugged.

 "Yesterday I met up with some locals. I'll try to ask around about the history of the island, see if there were any bloody tragedies. Anything that could be a sign of demonic possession in the past. You have the motel keys, I'm keeping the car keys. If you finish before me, take a cab or wait by the car, but I don't want you behind the wheel when your mind is being used as a bloody signal receiver."

 Tomas wanted to protest that, but in the end he just gave Marcus a frustrated frown.

 “You just don't want me messing with the seat, admit it."

 Marcus shrugged.

 "Not my fault you have shorter legs," Marcus smirked and popped a candy into his mouth. "Let me know when you finish with Rose. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

 "Oh, so I am allowed to pick locks now? Good to know," Tomas grinned and nodded at Marcus as their ways parted.

  The visit with Rose didn't go exactly according to plan and Tomas was wondering if he should've pressed more or, on the contrary, tried to talk his way around the issue. But he was never that good at lying and subtlety could take him only to a point.

 There was something in the house, Tomas felt it when he was sitting in the kitchen, trying to convince Rose to let him talk with the kids. It was a presence, a dark one. He heard whispers, felt as if something cold and dark reached through the walls and touched the base of his skull. Tomas had to force himself to stay in his seat and put on a smile instead of showing the fear that was gripping his insides. He was about to call Marcus and tell him they would have to try again, together and maybe with a different approach, that he wasn't ready to give up, when his cell phone started ringing. Tomas looked at the caller ID, then realized it was useless. They changed numbers so often, the only person that could be calling was Marcus.

 "Are you still at the Kim's house?" Marcus asked without a preamble and Tomas grimaced, knowing he would have to admit his latest failure.

 "No, I'm on my way back. I spoke with Rose, but...."

 "Let me guess. She doesn't think us snooping around is a good idea?" Marcus didn't seem surprised and Tomas felt some relief as well as annoyance.

 "No, she doesn't. And you knew she wouldn't be so easy to convince, right?"

 Marcus had the good grace not to chuckle, but Tomas could just imagine the smirk on his face.

 "You know you could've just asked if you wanted to take a break from me for a few hours," Tomas said, feeling the annoyance creeping in, especially when he remembered the presence lurking at the house. "This is no joke, Marcus. There is something wrong in that house."

 "I know that, Tomas." Marcus voice turned serious and Tomas slowed down his steps, frowning.

 "You found something?"

 "Something, yeah." Marcus told him about the story of Glen Powell and his daughter, about the massacre that happened fifty years ago.

 "Could the demon still be here, fifty years later?" Tomas wondered. Could demons lie dormant or were they feeding off some poor innocent visitors, lost in the woods?

 "I don't know. Not in my experience," Marcus answered the question.

 "I should go back and try again with the Kim family."

 "And tell them what? That fifty years ago a demon killed a family on the island? Look, your visions brought us here, I believe you. But we need confirmation."

 Even though hearing those words from Marcus should've made Tomas happy, all he could think about were the kids and the darkness lurking inside the house. While the demon might've laid dormant for fifty years, it has definitely awoken... and was more hungry than ever. Tomas could feel it, his skin prickling even now. Of course Marcus didn't know that, couldn't feel the imminent danger.

 "We will go together, in the daylight. Tomorrow."

 "What if they're in danger? What if we can help them?" Tomas needed to convince Marcus. He wasn't willing to wait another day and leave the kids in danger.

 "We go pounding on their door in the middle of the night, with some crazy ass story, we're gonna scare them off for good. Are we clear?"

 Tomas stopped, biting at his lip, knowing well that the next thing coming out his mouth would be a lie.

 "Clear," he said and before Marcus could add anything else, he ended the call, not even noticing the warning beep of the phone's dying battery. His thoughts were elsewhere.

 Marcus might've been set on waiting, but Tomas didn't need a confirmation. He felt the evil from the moment he stepped on the island and there was definitely a presence in the house. Tomas didn't think he was the one to wake it up, but their presence quite possibly sped up some things and Tomas was afraid that the children might be in imminent danger. There was no way he would just walk away now and hope that nothing bad happened during the night.

 Tomas put the phone away and resolutely turned around. He knew that Marcus would be pissed and that this would just be another disappointment, another failure of his to become a proper exorcist. But right now, Tomas didn't care. The house was calling to him, the woods around him were whispering a warning. His steps quickened, as if he was trying to make it there before the sun settled.

   Despite his earlier joking about lock picking, when he arrived to the house Tomas found the front door unlocked. He felt it strange until he realized that this wasn't an apartment in Chicago, but a house hidden in the middle of the woods on a small island.

 Tomas stepped through the door, feeling more like a thief than a priest. He turned on the lights and felt a sudden chill, even as he called out Rose's name. The only answer he got was the lights turning off and Tomas knew that Andy didn't need to lock his doors. Something was inside the house, something much more dangerous than a rabid guard dog.

 As the last of the lights flickered out, an unearthly growl shook through the house. His feet turned to stone and even if he'd wanted to run, he couldn't.

 Tomas closed his eyes, cold sweat running down his spine as he muttered a prayer for protection in Spanish. He jerked when his ears caught the sound of laughter. Swallowing down his fear, Tomas fumbled in his bag for the flashlight. Mustering up all the courage he could, he followed the sounds, determined not to let himself be scared off. Determined to find some answers.

   When things started moving of their own accord, Tomas knew he should've just turned around and left. There was no heroism in staying and letting himself be killed. And for a second his feet moved in the right direction, but then there was the feeling that things would get out of hand. The darkness was growing around him, reaching out into the nearby forest and he knew the children weren't safe, not even there.

 So Tomas swallowed his fear and persevered, walking into the attic as if it didn't stink of rot and death. There was food on the floor and months old dust, but all Tomas saw was the painting and all he heard was a dull banging sound that shook the house. Tomas opened his bible.

 "In the name of God, the Father Everlasting and all of His saints," he started and the house shook stronger. "I order you to show yourself and make your presence known!" It was like an earthquake and Tomas instinctively turned his prayers to Spanish. The paintings started dancing on the walls and Tomas had to fight the gravity as the floor seemingly tried to vanish under his legs, even as he shouted "He commands you!"

 Suddenly, time seemed to slow down and Tomas' eyes went wide in horror and fascination. Everything around him raised in the air, as if held by some invisible force, floating tauntingly, showing Tomas the power that made this house its home. Then as suddenly as it started, gravity took back its hold and everything fell down to the floor. The only evidence that it wasn't all just Tomas' imagination, the settling dust visible in the beam of his flashlight.

 Somewhere in the woods, the demon just released its hold on Truck. While the deed was far from done, there was a pesky priest inside its home, rummaging through things that didn't belong to him, trying to find a way to defeat him. The demon roared and in a blink of an eye focused his full attention on the man with the collar in his attic.

 Tomas felt the sick presence the moment his fingers touched the stone. He let himself be lulled by the sudden silence, even though he should have known. He should have known that silence brought the storm, yet he couldn't stop himself from saying those words.

 "In the name of Jesus Christ... show yourself to me."

 'As you wish, padre,' a little girl's voice sounded inside his head and he was plunged into hell.

   Tomas woke up in the attic with a silent scream on his lips, the flashlight blinking next to him, looking as if it was ready to die any moment. For a blessed second he didn't know what was going on, where he was or why every part of his body hurt. For a second there was only the flashlight and shadows dancing before his eyes. Then everything rushed back to him and, with a gasp, Tomas scrambled to a sitting position, banging his back against a table.

 "Dios mio," Tomas uttered, overwhelmed by fear. He started muttering a prayer in Latin and the flashlight flickered warningly. Tomas paused, eyes wide as his senses screamed at him all at once. There was some invisible danger lurking close and every bit of his body wanted to flee. Tomas opened his mouth to continue with the prayer, hoping it would push back the darkness that was trying to swallow him.

 Unbeknown to him, a little girl was standing over his slumped form, a doll hanging limply from one of her hands. The other hand reached out with purpose and touched the fallen priest right where the hammer connected a few days back.

 Tomas screamed from pain and doubled over, barely holding in his lunch. He couldn't see, couldn't think. There was only the pain and the sound of screaming children in his head. Until the little girl leaned down and whispered in his ear, with a voice sweet, yet deadly.

 "Run."

 And run he did.

 Tomas didn't remember how he got out of the house or how he managed to grab his bag, the bible and the now useless flashlight. All he knew was that he was suddenly kneeling on the ground on all fours, the grass wet from the evening dew a cool sensation on his shaking hands. He had just finished heaving, spitting bile but still tasting the blood on his tongue; the sensation of being shot in the stomach battling with the sensation of drowning. Moaning, just the memory of it made him heave again. He expected to see the murky well water but got nothing but spit, stomach already painfully empty.

 Sitting back on his hunches, Tomas tried to calm his breathing and prayed silently. This time there was no presence pushing at him but he still felt like something dirty was crawling across his skin. Shivering, Tomas looked around, realizing he somehow managed to leave the house and run into the nearby woods. He didn't run deep though, as he could just see the shape of the house lurking behind the trees.

 For the first time since he faced the demon in Angela Rance, Tomas was truly scared. The presence in the house held such... malevolence, Tomas couldn't even start to grasp it. But he could still feel it, in his body, in his mind. That's what scared him the most. He couldn't stop the vision, couldn't stop feeling the pain and fear of those who were killed by the demon. He needed someone to pull him out of that hell and anchor him back in reality. He desperately needed Marcus.

 The problem was his phone died as he was halfway back to the house. And even if he could call him, what could Marcus do? He was probably already on a boat heading to the mainland and their motel.

 No, Tomas went against his order and had paid the price. Now he needed to pull himself together and somehow make it back to their place, back to Marcus. Back to safety.

 Tomas managed to stand up on shaky legs. He was astounded to find his bag lying on the ground only a few steps away. He didn't even remember grabbing it. Tomas woozily picked up the bag and headed towards the road, giving the house a wide circle. He’d almost reached the road when he heard the sound of a nearing car. For a second he froze like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. His mind tried to figure out what the chanceswere that it was Marcus coming to look for him. Even in his shocked state Tomas quickly ruled out that possibility as insane. It might've been someone from the island just passing by, in which case Tomas could maybe hitch a ride and get to the mainland much sooner than he anticipated. But that chance was also pretty slim based on the remoteness of the Kim house. Most probably it was the family returning from camping prematurely. Tomas swallowed and instinctively stepped back from the road, his dark clothing making it easy for him to hide in the darkness of the trees.

 Soon enough, a familiar car drove down the road and parked in front of the house. Tomas could see Andy Kim and one of the children, Verity, the girl that seemed to dislike him greatly. There was no one else in the car and Tomas didn't know if he should feel worry or relief that Harper hadn’t returned to the house. In the end he settled on worry as he saw Andy rush inside, leaving a visibly shaken Verity behind. Tomas looked wistfully towards the now empty road, then back at the house, the front door still open. Swallowing, he turned back towards the house, his legs feeling like lead.

 By the time he’d made it to the front door his heart felt as if he'd run a marathon. Tomas stopped next to the car and looked worriedly inside the house. Verity has vanished in to her room as Andy went up the stairs... Tomas wished to have the courage to follow them inside, to ask what happened and find out where the others were, to drag both family members from that damned house and away from the danger. But it was just that, wishes. Tomas couldn't move. It wasn't Marcus's warning that rang in his head anymore, it was his own experience. He knew that whatever lurked inside was too strong for him. Those visions, they were a warning. A playful warning at that, Tomas realized, because he could've very easily been killed by them. Hell, he already felt like he’d died three different ways. He wasn't prepared for the real deal.

 So he stood before the house and looked up in silent terror at the shining light in the attic. He should go inside and do something, anything to stop the demon from taking over Andy.

 'Don't be a bloody idiot!' he could hear Marcus's voice clear as day, shouting into his ear. It didn't matter anyway. Tomas's legs refused to take a step closer to the house. Goosebumps covered his arms and he felt positively sick, but he didn't move. As if sensing his apprehension, the lights in the house flickered in amusement and the front door slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started to close. If Tomas squinted hard, he thought he could see a small hand on the door frame. Then it shut with a soft click, though in the silence of the night it sounded like a gunshot.

 Tomas jerked, then looked back towards the attic window. The shades were closed and the light was gone. Everything was quiet, except for the loud thumping of Tomas' heart inside his chest. He couldn't stay, not tonight, not by himself. Pushing aside the guilt of abandoning those two people to the evil of the house, Tomas said a prayer for their protection and tried to ignore the animalistic relief he felt with each step that was taking him farther from the house and its occupants.

 The night seemed to last forever. It might've been the fact that Tomas kept stumbling on the dark road and stopping several times to fight down a surge of blind panic... at having left the occupants of the house alone, at not knowing where Harper was. But mostly he panicked as he saw flashes of carnage and felt himself being pulled back into the attic.

 The visions attacked him once more and he shivered as he felt the cold well water closing in around him. He shuddered when the chain hit his face and felt himself falling to his knees, a silent scream on his lips. His eyes wide open, Tomas blinked in confusion as he found himself kneeling on the hard road, something wet running down his face. Reaching up in blind panic, expecting to find his fingers red and sticky with blood, he was surprised to find only the wetness of tears.

 Tomas forced himself to stand up on wobbly legs and continue down the road. The flashlight didn't work since the incident in the attic, so Tomas had to walk the road in total darkness. The moon was at half-mast and only scarcely peeked out from behind the clouds. Tomas was just grateful it wasn't raining.

 The walk shouldn't have taken him so long... the walk to the house during the day wasn't longer than an hour, but Tomas found it impossible to walk faster in the dark out of fear that he would simply wander off the road and become lost in the unwelcoming woods. And they were unwelcoming, with all the strange sounds, the occasional hooting of an owl or the swishing of leaves in the wind. Tomas wasn't used to camping out, he was the child of a city, whether it was Chicago or Mexico City. He knew how to behave in the dark streets, what things deserved his attention and when it was wisest to just run. Here, on this god forsaken island, lost in the darkness, everything screamed of danger. This whole island was occupied by evil and Tomas felt the hate and sick interest focusing his way.

 Shuddering at the thought of all the demons that could be feasting on this little island and its occupants, Tomas subconsciously quickened his step. Somewhere he must've missed a turn, because he found himself face to face with a road sign. Squinting in the darkness, Tomas let out a shout of frustration as he realized where he was and that he would have to backtrack a mile or two or he would have to walk another six miles to reach the port.

 It seemed like the island has conspired against him, like it was playing with him, trying to see how much he could handle. Tomas could almost hear the wind playing with the trees, as if cackling at his plight. Shaking his head resolutely, he turned and started back on the road. He needed to get off this island and back to Marcus as soon as possible... he needed to warn him. The kids were in much bigger danger than either of them had imagined. Steeling himself for more walking, shuddering in the coldness of the night, Tomas gritted his teeth and continued on. He was on a mission, one that had too many lives at stake to just give up, however badly Tomas wanted to. Because he did want to give up... to just get off the island and run as far away as possible, away from the demons and from his 'gift'. Tonight, Tomas saw the truth... tonight he realized his visions weren't a gift from God, they were a curse.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Looking for a dedicated long term sci-fi partner for discord, kik,hangouts or google docs.

Hello everyone! Hope you’re having awesome days/nights/afternoons or whatever other time it may be for you! I’m just your average twenty year old rper whose come looking for something specific this time. I’ve been craving to do something sci-fi that preferably has a healthy dose of aliens, laser guns, space ships, space, more laser guns (you can never have to many lasers) and an awesome story. I’ve put together three little ideas that I thought would be nice samples for anyone interested to take a look at so they can get an idea as to what I may be looking for or what we may do when we rp. Remember these are just samples, we do not have to rp them and I’m more than happy to listen to and do the ideas of my partners. Voltron: legend of the fallen Voltron: defender of the universe was the mightiest and most powerful robot in existence. Over ten thousand years of age the battle hardened warrior fought hand to hand with zarkon’s robeasts and many other monsters. Voltron was the universes only current robot capable of doing such things though which was where the worry occurred and the idea to remedy that first spurred. With careful consideration, a few arguments courtesy of lance and Keith as well as encouragement from commander holt the proposal was put forward: train the current and new cadets how to fly animal shapes space ships, that is ships that were like voltrons lions, so that they had a backup should voltron ever be unable to fight. Surprisingly for the paladins, galaxy garrison approved of the idea. Within three days the plan was in motion. The cadets were to build robotic animal companions that would be the animal ship they built and flew, it was to be a way of strengthening the bond between pilot and ship. (This takes place roughly after season 6, after the Galra invasion has been cleared from planet earth. Zarkon and lotor are a live therefor Haggar hasn’t gone crazy with her reality destroying plan. While the paladins and other canon characters will be in this and are playable, please keep in mind that they are not there for the purpose of being shipped but for the role they play as teachers in the rp. We will be oc’s who will be cadets who are very close to graduation. The rp will consist of mixed lore from voltron defender of the universe, voltron force and voltron legendary defender as well as some thing other things I’ve come up with for the rp.) Project rehabilitation Many many years into the future, about the 25th century, it was discovered that the galaxy humans occupied for so long was merely one little lick of what lay beyond it. Thanks to advanced technology, extensive studies of human biology and space humans were able to colonise many planets beyond their solar system just in time for the 31st century. Six years of achievements were celebrated regularly. The biggest hurdle to colonising planets beyond earth where the aliens that inhabited the planets. Through very careful tactics, negotiating and trust building a peace pact was formed so that humans and aliens could harmlessly live alongside each other. Despite the acceptance from most people from both races, there were steal trouble makers and extremists. Human criminals weren’t much of a worry.....alien ones were a exception since they were unpredictable and there was still so much scientists did not know about them. This was where project rehabilitation came in, project rehabilitation was aimed at particularly dangerous alien criminals who held a class five or higher threat to society. Many feared what happened beyond the walls, for all they knew no one came back out of them alive. (In this rp I’m an alien criminal who has been captured and taken to the facility, you can be a human, alien or whatever you want. There’s lots of room for creativity in this rp and I encourage you to absolutely pelt me with ideas) A spaceship called legacy The legacy is a ship that’s flown through space since it’s maiden voyage in 2356. Fast forward to the year 2578 and the ship is still going. What makes the legacy such a legend is the mystery of its original voyage destination. Long ago explorers set the legacy on a course that was never followed, the ship came back with no survivors. Some believed that they’d been killed by an unknown menace, others believed something must’ve happened onboard. Regardless the legacy was still used, such a ship could not afford to go to waste despite the myths behind it. The legacy’s current captain had been gifted with the goal to search for other planets that would serve uses to the human race and the aliens they had pledged allegiance too. (I’ve left this one open as it’s yet again another scenario that has the potential for creativity to really get flowing) I hope you all enjoy my samples. Down below is a list of requirements that any potential partners must fulfil before messaging me for a roleplay. 1: you must be literate, write in the third person, have decent spelling and grammar and write at least five or six well fleshed out sentences . One worders, one liners, frequent very bad typos and poorly fleshed out sentences are a big no for me. Occasional typoese I can handle but not constant. 2: you must be 18+ (I will not rp with anyone who isn’t at least eighteen). I’m twenty, rping with someone under 18 (especially since I rp mature themes that aren’t m rated) would get me into very big trouble. No amount of ���oh I’m old enough in my country” or “I’m not old enough but I don’t mind” is going to convince me to rp with a minor. 3: I do not care whether you rp as a human/alien/animal/anthro/furry/kangawallafox/ etc. I do care that you rp as a character who isn’t just a Mary Sue/Gary Stu/ op/is just a copy paste of my character or another character/is flawless/overly submissive/overly dominant/only made of flaws/is just you or a self insert and a godmodder. I don’t expect you to come to the rp with a character in hand but I do expect you to be able to create a decent one. 4: you must be able to post once a day or more at the very most and once or more a week at the very least. Any longer and I’ll assume interest has been lost or you’re ghosting me. 5: please do not approach me asking for a fandom rp (voltron is a fandom and it’s currently the only one I will do at the moment apart from lion king) that isn’t related to the example I’ve given or what characters I ship. I’m not a fan of the whole shipping thing for many reasons, it doesn’t mean I won’t allow it but I will express concern if you become too focused on it. Please also do not approach me asking for a rp that isn’t sci-fi as it’s what I’m looking to do at the moment. 6: you must be comfortable writing with/as non human characters/characters with disabilities/etc. you must also be okay with lgbt+ stuff, dark themes, adult themes and nsfw (I do not fade to black). 7: please do not message me saying you want an rp then never answer me again, I don’t accept ghosters and I will not stick around if I find out you’re ghosting me. 8: if something is wrong please tell me! I always try to remedy anything that may be wrong but I won’t know the problem till you’ve spoken it. 9: do not control my characters or dictate their actions. What my characters do/think/hear/smell/see/taste/feel/ etc is up to me to decide. 10: please make sure this is something you have time for. Life comes first but please do not message me if you know you’re going to be swamped by work or other important life things as I do not want yet another message of “I’m so sorry but I cannot rp like I thought I would be able to”. I get this message too often from well meaning people who get swamped by work and cannot rp even if we haven’t started. I know it’s no ones fault but it does get disheartening. 11: you must have discord/kik/hangouts or google docs. I will not rp on any other platform? Not too much to ask for right? Down below is a list about me. 1: I’m literate, write in the third person and stick to the at least five or six lines rule. 2: I’m twenty, hence why I will not rp with anyone who isn’t at least 18. 3: I only rp male characters but I’m open to same sex pairings. The gender of your character or your real life gender doesn’t matter to me. 4: I prefer to play as non human characters unless requested to be a human character. 5: I do not have face claims or pictures for my characters. I only have descriptions. Please do not ask me for pictures or face claims. 6: I live in the eastern Australian time zone, your time zone will not matter to me and I’m available almost every hour of the day provided I’m not sleeping or doing something else. 7: I’m okay with romance but it must be slow burn only and not forced. I don’t do love at first sight or fast paced romance. If you force romance on me I will leave. My characters will be less likely to imitate romance in any situation (they tend to be switches in everything and slightly submissive and unsure when it comes to romance.). Please do not force any kinks on me if I’ve expressed discomfort at the thought of doing them and I do not do top/bottom dynamics, only switch dynamics. Give me a slow burn forbidden romance as a secondary plot and I’ll happily have romance in the rp. 7: I do not want to be the one who comes up with all the ideas, brainstorming with partners is one of the things I enjoy most about rp’s. For all those who have read this post thank you! My contacts are down below. My discord is: tiberionsunsconqourer#6187 My kik is: Tiberionconqueror My email (you’ll need this for hangouts and google docs) is: lleo52560 Can’t wait to rp with anyone interested!

[fictionalwonder]

True Blood Season 4 Review

Ok It's done. The guessing and spoiling is over for another 9 months leaving us with only a serious fangover and an unprecedented post season body count. True Blood Season 4 was bat shit crazy even more than Season 3, the timeline of such memorables as jar of Talbot and spine ripping TV. So now post Season 4 finale whether you were calling for a Scream award or thought the whole thing blew chances are you're about to embark on 9 months of TB withdrawal. Yup even the haters feel its absence. So let's savor the moment in a post finale look at the best and worst of True Blood Season 4

THE BIGGEST THANK GOD MOMENT: Wee Marcus and gang finally putting Tommy and us out of the misery that was Tommy Mickens sorry ass life. As soon as he went skinwalker you knew his days were numbered. Sam Tramwell was brilliant doing Tommy doing him and who didn't cheer when said Tommy/Sam fired Sookie! She is the worst waitress ever! Talk about sick leave; is she ever at work for more than half a shift!?! The fall out from his death will certainly carry us through season 5, where we can only hope Sam has some modicum of hope at returning to just running the bar and attending anger management sessions.

Close second was Sookie decisively shooting Debbie Pelt in the head, even though she begged her not to. Yup, we had to wait till the very end of the season for evil, laughing while pouring Talbot down the drain Sookie, to return.

BEST OMG MOMENT: Ginger riding the coffin - nuff said.

SCARIEST/SEXIEST MOMENT:

Scary and sexy are often one and the same on True Blood, and this year Eric Northman ripping out, here to be known as, Juice Box Roy's heart will be stamped on my brain as a shining TB moment. Countless screamed everywhere, I had know idea THAT could be sexy! Give Skarsgård a raise!

BTW the T-shirts were on sale a mere 3 hours post show.

BIGGEST WTF MOMENT: Sookie and Eric snow shower then frak in Narnia. I've never read the books but the post Spellbound roar over The Vampire, The Witch and The Shower Stall, chocked up the blog commentary for days. I suspect because nothing could ever live up to this sacred cow of the sookiverse sexcapdes, Ball and company for better or worse decided not to go there; thus sparing us from more Skinmax test reels by getting out of the shower faster than they got in

MOST IMPROVED: King Bill - sure

he's damaged goods nailing his great great great great granddaughter and watching his ex screw his brain-damaged frenemy but sans Sookie round his neck, Bill was standing a bit taller this year. He even had a sense of humor, and Bill with balls is actually kind of hot. The developing bromance between him and Eric turned out to be one of the best parts of the season close.

MOST POTENTIAL: Laurel and Hardy move over. With Sookie out of the way Bill and Eric make an an awesome tag team, dissing each other on the pyre then cooperatively staking and decapitating Nan and troopers. Here's to more of Bill and Eric's excellent adventure in Season 5.

MOST IN NEED OF IMPROVEMENT: Sookie got enough of her spunk back to blow Debbie Pelt's head off, sure, but seriously she spent most of the season literally on her back, well sometimes on top. She was once a gifted mind-reader; we saw that maybe twice this season. Instead we learned more about her castrating powers when it comes to boyfriends. She mommied Eric into a hoody wearing puppy dog, did the dirty with him in every room of grandma's house and then kicked him, alongside Bill, to the curb come finale. In four seasons she truly did go from virgin to love em and leave em fangbanger. The classless moves have got to stop if the Stackhouse angle is to survive. We need an even slightly relate-able protagonist. I'm hoping another eligible lady moves to town, though god forbid she get a job at Merlotts - the most dangerous workplace in America.

SOOKIE'S ONE REDEEMING FEATURE SEASON 4: Sookie had unbelievably great hair this season. I swear to god I saw the camera man reflected in her locks in Eric's cubby.

MOST IN NEED OF A HUG: From defending herself against zombie slurs to losing an ear, Pam had endured what must go down as the worst week in her hundred plus years. She lost her maker to back country fairy vagina and her face rotted off. And things weren't exactly looking up when we left her, blood tears running down her cheek, hugging Ginger.

Why did they do that to Pam!!! Well for one reason she gave TB viewers some of the best gore the show has ever delivered. Still, writers, you better fix her. At the end of the day we really just want to look at Kristin Bauer being gorgeous and acting snarky.

Coming in second is Hoyt who despite the bitterness of his bad boyfriend rejection could really use a little lov'in right now, if not some of Summer's biscuits.

BEST RECAPS and REVIEWS:

VLOGS

#1 Bloodworks takes the stakes as a no contest winner. Besides being just the cutest couple in the world, Brian and Any's post show cocktails and theatrics amount to sometimes slurry worded and always hilariously astute recaps. I swear by mid season you look forward to Andy and Brian's upload as much as the episode itself. With its "staking points" and "do bad things" they were the best thing that could happen to a mediocre TB episode. Brian Juergen and Andy Swist @campbloodbuzz @andyswist http://campblood.org/Newblog/

#2 Think Heroes True Blood Review is tried and true. Roth Cornet has hosted solo for two seasons, and this season Jenna Busch was on board. Roth's reviews are first-rate often delving deeper than the show deserves. Busch does a good job of keeping things in the watercooler-moment mood of the short vlog format. The two combined offer a sometimes giggle ridden but always insightful True Blood take. Jennings Roth Cornet @JRothC | http://www.jenningsrothcornet.com/ JennaBusch @JennaBusch | http://girlmeetslightsaber.blogspot.com

#3 BloodBites is family friendly fair with this sister and brother team showcasing familial bonds and blood-dipped funny bones. Reenacting then reviewing a given episode's wtf moments, Blood Bites has cross-gen appeal. It's quality YouTube content you could show your grandmother and your eight year-old niece, who you know are both watching True Blood too.

Honorable Mention My Future Lover's Reason to Ship Sookie and Eric Spawn of You Tube strictly for Team Eric members, My Future Lover's play by play captions to the best and worst Sookie Eric moments capture at least half the audience's joy, tears and tv punching moments.

BEST PODCAST

True Blood in Dallas Straight up fan founded talkshow and review of both book, show and TB culture with revolving guest reviewers each week. A steady dose of all the criticism only a Stackhouse booklover can bring, Talk Blood is laced with plenty of Charlaine Harris loving that fellow fans can appreciate.

Listen to internet radio with True Blood in Dallas on Blog Talk Radio

BLOGS AND WEB SITES

Best Recaps

Pros and Cons True Blood by Meredith Woerner nails it everytime. for a no holds barred, tell it like is play by play pro con style. This is one of the funniest and most astute TB recaps out there. Meredith Woerner @MdellW | http://io9.com/people/MeredithDW/posts/

After Eltons WTF recap by Steven Frank is an imaginative post morteum with major plot points reviewed then rated in Grace Jones Vamp limps.

Jef With One F's music and episode recap for the Houston's Press is a creative spin that lets the show's lead track set the tone for review and analysis. Jef With One F @HPRocksOff

Best Blogs

Talk True Blood Digging deep and ranting in the best way, Talk True Blood goes so far as to offer scene by scene body language analysis of major characters.

Buddhism and True Blood Dedicated to Alan Ball and the wheel of life, Buddhism and True blood reminds us that life is suffering especially in Bon Temps

True Blood Underground Do you really know what's going on in Bon Temps? Conspiracy theories abound as TB Underground calls out Alan Ball on his addictive mind control experiment.

FINAL WORD Four seasons later there is still a bit of blood left in the series, and while fairy-finger-cop-outs and super silly, supernatural assumptions do show signs of laziness in the writers room, True Blood still does deliver some amazing TV. Godforbid we get bogged down by process oriented stuff like how amnesia Eric lost his shirt post-spell or ends up on a bonfire tied to Bill between episode 11 and 12. Things like how come no one reports a death in Bon Temp anymore or WHO IS running Merlottes only get in the way of a good story or at least a good "oh no they didn't" jaw drop.

I suspect, forty eight episodes later, TB writers actually relish every shark jumping moment as much as fangbanging spectacle. They know they can get away with it because they know how dedicated, creative and forgiving their fan base is. Plus narrative logic be damned, camp and drama are fine edges to play on, and they deserve applause for taking even tasteless risks.

For every bit of hocus pocus cgi True Blood throws at us, such as the anime forcefield surrounding Moon Goddess or the ridiculously bad fx exorcism of Mavis, there was a Pam getting a skin peel or Eric ripping the heart out of juice box Roy to make up for it. For each ridiculous Scooby Doo and the gang moment, there was a Vampire A-team or death by pencil. For each and every minute we tolerated Andy, we had a shot of Ginger riding a coffin or Eric drinking the whole fairy. True Blood IS very uneven but it IS very fun.

So that caps summertime Sundays and True blood still remains my ultimate guilty pleasure. The culture and coverage this year has been as much fun as the show itself and made Sundays feel like a party. I think Alex Skarsgård sums it all up in this quote,

“At 7 in the morning, I’m hanging from the ceiling in a Nazi uniform with fangs in[my mouth]. I look over and I see [Allan] there in his Nazi uniform hanging like a puppet. We’re about to descend down to kill this wolf, you know? And that was the moment where we just looked at each other like, This is what we’re doing for a living?‘”

Yup, IT IS! And even more surprising I CAN"T believe I'm watching you do it and not only that but loving every minute!