#the joke is he wears the uniform more often than his personal wardrobe

[lixenn]

A SECOND ASK FROM ME HAS HIT UR ASKBOX TODAY…!

I'm curious on the method on how she uses her flames to disarm traps! Just from this section, it looks like she really knows her stuff!

"dark blue (the same color as her son’s eyes)" -- AWWWWWWWWW 🥹🥹🥹💖💖✨😭✨ IM SO SOFT I MUST DRAW HER!!! I can imagine that's also the same color as her late husband's eyes?

Does she have any favorites in classical music? Personally, don't get to listen to them a lot but when I do, one of my faves and the one that really makes me soft is Clair de Lune (Debussy); I wonder if she likes that too? She can even play the piano, so I can imagine her playing her fave pieces with that!

not a question but --- If she truly wanted she could have taken an officer position instead of her current job but she prefers being in a support role since that lets her spend more time with her son. --- I AGREE WITH THIS MINDSET. Chill culture >>>> Grind/Hustle culture (Hey Chief Dan, I hope ur listening right now 👍✨)

also dave wtf jsfhshvfshd what happened to dave the first time it happened? like the shampoo-switching? Did Valerie fall for it or did her instincts guide her to avoid the hair-dye?

We got a lot of hm Valerie loves her son here, but I also wonder about the other side. What is Valerie like in Maximilian's POV?

*faces this ask like it's the final boss in a JRPG*

I- I will beat you! YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!!!!!

*insert exterme warcry here*

---

So... Heya Ein! It's been literal fucking months since you send this in but I haven't forgotten 🫡 I just procrastinated the hell out of it because the ask required research and also because Val doesn't tell me jackshit. She's quite the reserved lady... Keeping quiet even to her creator... The audacity!!

Anyways I finally come to deliver some answers! (which will be under the cut because long lmao)

Traps Disclaimer: I don't know traps. I don't know how to research traps either tbh. So I'm kind of winging this answer in the hopes that it makes at least some kind of sense.

Vals's analytical mind, observant nature and love for puzzles make it easy for her to identify and pick traps apart even when she just started out as an assassin. Her engineering studies also gave her an upper hand in the subject. So her disarming of traps is mostly analysing the bigger picture and then disintegrating the part of the trap that would do you harm with her Storm Flames. This means that while she sometimes just needs to take care of a small part of trap (for example the trigger that would set it off) at other times she just needs to get rid of the thing in its entirety or even spring the trap because everything else would be too much of a hassle.

Eyes Thank you for wanting to draw her 🥹🥹🫂💜💜 I haven't tried it myself yet because I'm honestly not sure on how to do her justice (<- this user doesn't know how to draw wrinkles in her style to safe her life) but dear @discendia actually did an absolute fantastic job of it, so now there's a Val visual!! As for her sons eye colour: Yes, he shares the same eye colour than her late husband (may he rest in peace 🙏).

Favourite music This might have been the most difficult question to answer simply because I don't know music OTL. I do enjoy instrumential music a lot but I don't know classics, which made answering tricky. Thankfully @myrmyrtheorca came to my rescue and saved my ass 🫡 You're a gem buddy!

Val has a fondness for waltz because her husband and her often danced together to it so we have:

Dmitri Shostakovich - Waltz No. 2

Aram Khachaturian - Masquerade Suite - Waltz

This one isn't a waltz but it's the kind of upbeat and fast paced she also likes Hungarian Dance no. 5.

Tchaikovsky - Valse Sentimentale okay this piece is less one of her favourites and more kind of a theme song for her and her husband because when I listened to this I got a lot of... bittersweet sad vibes and that reminded me of them.

I honestly don't know if you can play these pieces on piano? I would think if you could she would play them (music is really one of my weaknesses sometimes). But Val doesn't just like playing piano she also likes listening to classical music even going on live concerts for it when she has the time.

Chill culture Unlike certain other people I could name, Val has a very healthy work life balance which is mostly based on the fact that she was unwilling to compromise on her time with her son. It was hard at the beginning but with time and experience she got into a rhythm which she maintains with stubborn determination. She rises and sleeps early. She takes scheduled breaks. Vacation days aren't gathering dust and she will go on sick leave if needed. Unlike Dan who needs to be dragged from the office more often than not (he's also in fact not listening lmao).

Hair dye And it wouldn't be a proper Ein ask with me throwing in a snippet, would it? It's a bit on the shorter side but here you go!

Steaming hot water ran down Val’s back, washing away sticky sweat and doing wonders for the tension in her muscles. Training had been rewarding but her body wasn’t what it used to be, long since worn down by age and numerous injuries. Heat helped but something always complained even on the good days.

That’s the cost of living, I suppose.

Humming a nonsensical tune Val turned off the water and blindly reached for her shampoo bottle. She squeezed some product into her hand, eyes still closed and ready to massage it into her hair when a sharp smell reached her nose.

Val froze.

She gave up scented shampoos and soaps decades ago when subterfuge and stealth took priority over unnecessary comfort. With time reaching for the simple products on the shelf became a habit she never saw the point in breaking. Most of the fancy stuff irritated her skin anyways, it wasn’t a huge loss.

However, this begged the question:

Why the hell did her shampoo smell like ammonia?

Brightly coloured hair and a mischievous smile came to mind. Talking a mile a minute about how she would look great in red.

That little brat!

With a wave of her hand, Flames sparked to life, ridding her off the dye staining her skin. She left the bottle and its nefarious contents alone, better to have some evidence as backup just in case.

She dried herself in record time, put her wet hair up in a bun and grabbed some fresh clothes out of her closet. Her shirt was still half unbuttoned when she reached for her trusty naginata, ready to make a pesky little nuisance regret all his life choices.

---

^so yes Dave got caught and Val was not amused. He survived her warth but definitely needed to pay Varia medical a visit.

Maxi Val's love is equally returned by her son. Their relationship isn't without conflict because even though Val tried her best she was still extremely busy in her early assassin days, needing to leave Maxi with friends for days during her numerous missions. But he learned that he will always be her priority and that she will always come running if he calls her. Somtimes Val can get a bit overbearing because she's super paranoid that someone will take Maxi from her the same way her husband was burtally ripped from her life. Maxi tries to be understanding but he has limits (and he's a teenager) so he sometimes storms of in a huff to sleep over at his friends after they fight.

[mistyaffection]

Black Dragon’s Relationship Headcanon’s ( Gen 1)

Characters: Shinichiro Sano, Wakasa Imaushi, Keizo Arashi (Benkei), Takeomi Akashi

♡ Shinnichiro Sano ♡

When it comes to relationship’s Shin is the most honest and sweetest person to ever date.

You think after being rejected 20 times, he would get a clue on how to be better in relationships?

Nah the boy is nervous as hell because you’re his first girlfriend, and he wants to make sure y’all relationship lasts a life time

Shin would usually ask Benkei and waka for dating advice, the last time he tried to ask Taekomi he got himself s hard slap on the face.

Mikey, Emma and Izana are now you’re unofficial little brothers and sister.

When ever you’re with Shin one off the 3 would at least crash you’re date. Majority off the time it’s Mikey and Izana who are all ways fighting.

“That’s enough you two! Do y’all have to do this when ever I go on the date”

Before you can even say anything Shin is chasing after the two.

Emma on the other hand and ask you questions about life and stuff, being surrounded, by boys a lot I fell like she would definitely need a person who is an older sister figure .

Despite shin being nicknamed the weak king by his peers. Boy will turn into madness if someone where to ever hurt you. I mean did you see how he punched a concrete wall.

Similar to Taekomi Shin would always wanna pay for you’re stuff, but unlike Taekomi he doesn’t mind you paying just know that you’re next date is gonna be twice as much as you payed

Shin loves spoiling you after all you are his first love after all

You had to tell to stop with the daily flowers because you had no room in your apartment to store it.

So instead shin tries to get you flowers every 2 weeks that way you’re house stays looking fresh.

His friends seems to like having you around because not only are you shin first girlfriend, but you’re also there commander’s significant.

Shin wanted to teach you some self defense and let’s just you learn well, but now Wakasa has blackmail on Shin of you kicking his ass during a sparing match

♡ Wakasa Imaushi ♡

Despite being Black dragons pretty boy, our man’s Wakasa is a short king.

Mans get mistaken as a child, and sometimes get carded when ever he go’s out with you or his friends.

Shin joked to him that if his partner where to where hells around him, he would look more like there younger sibling than there boyfriend. ( if you’re taller than him, just know that you have you’re own personal teddy bear now)

Wakasa kicked Shin in the groined for it.

He may or may not have read up on articles how to look taller, or how to look good with his significant in every photo.

His wardrobe consists of dark neutral colors. He has good posture, and all ways opts for sneakers, since he owns a gym.

While Wakasa might keep his wardrobe beat and tight he isn’t to shy to, try on matching outfits with his significant other.

Last time y’all two decided to try on, uniforms to do cute photos at the theme park. Due to Wakasa height you can say he took advantage of the student discount they gave him.

You often hang out with both Benkei and Wakasa around there gym.

If a guy where to ever approach you randomly in the gym just know that, you’re boyfriend is gonna be restrained by Benkei because you can’t attack you’re costumers.

But that doesn’t mean Benkei is gonna let it slide, he’s gonna help out Wakasa get back at the guy who decided it was okay to hit on you.

Let’s say the wakasa got him at the back of the parking lot outside the gym when no one was around.

When it comes to you wearing Wakasa clothes the fell a bit lose but, it also fits you well.

Y’all two may or may not have tried to wear each others clothes for the day.

When it comes to you’re relationship Wakasa is a chill guy, he doesn’t mind paying and he doesn’t mind you paying.

Ask him if he wants to do sheet masks with you. He would gladly do them with you in a heart beat. He wouldn’t mind you doing his nails or trying out new hairstyles on his long luscious hair.

At the end of the day he just wants you happy.

♡ Keizo Arashi (Benkei) ♡

Benkei is the embodiment of homebody, he enjoy’s his time relaxing and working out.

If he where to be in a relationship just know that he’s the type of guy that would not mind lazy dates that includes watching movies and doing sheet mask.

He may be a gym rat but sometimes gym rats needs their rest.

Y’all two had movie night and you decided to watch a horror movie. Benkei being the good boyfriend agree to you’re choices.

But after 30 minutes into the movie you saw right through him and decided to watch a light hearted movie, to get his mind off it.

A similar incident happened to you guys at the theme park, and let’s say both of you where escorted out of the park, because Benkei punched a haunted house worker due to flight and fright.

His friends like having you around, and you enjoy being around with them as well.

All though both Wakasa and Benkei where Rivals before. Wakasa doesn’t mind helping you out with Benkei same go’s for Shin

Benkei is a big guy, I fell like he will be the type to give great hugs! Like who doesn’t wants a tall buff man hugging him.

When ever he lends you his clothes, they tend to swallow you whole and make you look small compared to him. ( he does this on purpose he thinks you look cute in his clothes)

Benkei likes spoiling you weather it’s buying you stuff or cooking you meals. Although Benkei eats health a lot he tends to make healthy versions of you’re fav junk food for you

He teaches you how to fight, because he knows that there will be times he won’t be able to protect you. So it’s better to have you prepare.

While you where out shopping someone decide to mug you. Benkei was about to step in until he sawed you flung the mugger down the metro stair case.

He was so proud of you! But he also hated that he couldn’t get back at the guy as well. Oh well all that ends well.

♡ Takeomi Akashi ♡

When it comes to dating Taekomi he can sometimes come of as person who is to self absorb.

His friends try to warn him, about his behavior but he tends to not listen and thinks that there wrong.

He thinks he’s being a gentlemen, but he’s clearly not. He acts sexiest saying things like “That’s not girlish of you”

Despite his sexist attitude he’s extremely prideful and prefers, to pay for his partner stuff saying that a man should all ways try to provide for his significant other.

Since he’s so prideful you decided to take this ad advantage just to mess with him, or get back at him.

“Isn’t it a man’s job to take out the trash, mow the lawn or provide matinees work and fix things”

Taekomi regrets his pride getting to him at times, because now he has to do what you saw or he will look like a wuss in front of Senju and sanzu.

“As a big brother I mean he has to set perfect examples for them right” you jokingly say to both Waka and Benkei who are clearly enjoying watching Taekomi suffer from his sexist antics.

While you’re dating to Taekomi you become an unofficial older sister to Senju. ( please I fell like this girl needs a girl best friend)

All though sanzu might not be in the picture, you fell bad for what happened to him and wish that they where still close.

Taekomi thinks that he wears the pants in the relationship because he tries to do stuff, that a man supposed to quote on quote do.

But in fact it’s you who wear the pants in the relationship, you’re not shy to approach problems and solve it hand on hand. You’re both feminine and masculine.

You put Taekomi in his place and if he where to act up, just know that his friends and siblings have front row seats to watch him fail.

Sanzu secretly loves the fact you put his older brother in his place he wishes that he became close to you, but since he had to be with Mikey you knew that was not possible.

At the end off the day Taekomi may or may not change due to you’re influence on him.

Notes: Since I wrote down headcanon’s for our favorite black dragon members. I taught it was fair, I do a relationship Headcanon’s for them as well!

Tag list: @benkeibear ( Since Benkei is you’re fav I know I had to tag you! Also thanks for making the heart divider, it really made this post look neat and pretty) @mynewblackdress ( Since you write for Shin a lot I taught why not tag you as well )

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - chapter 3

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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You can find chapter 1 here and chapter 2 here Read this fic on AO3

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Chapter 3

Luckily for Azriel, the next day was a Saturday, which meant that he didn’t have to go to work. The only plan he had that day was his gym appointment at 7.00 in the morning, just like every other day. Cassian and Rhys often gave him shit for going to the gym that early in the morning on weekends, but they had partners to enjoy the days with. Azriel did not, which meant that working out was a good way to pass time. Especially for someone like Azriel who didn’t sleep and seemed to have more hours to his days than most regular people did.

However, today he woke up to the sun shining in through his window. He picked up his phone to check the time and was surprised to see that it said 9.23. He never slept that late. And he never slept that well.

She made me miss my gym appointment, Azriel thought to himself and couldn’t help but smile. And then it hit him. It was 9.23. That meant that Flower Girl ASMR would call him in exactly 37 minutes, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. Azriel quickly got out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. While the coffee was brewing he jumped into the shower. He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong to be on the phone with her without having a shower first. Just like it would feel wrong to show up to a date without showering.

This is not a date, he told himself as he tied the towel around his hips and walked back into his kitchen. Azriel lived in a studio apartment, which meant that his ‘kitchen’ was actually a corner of his living room/bedroom. It was quite big for a studio apartment and he could easily fit his bed, a big sectional, and a dining room table in the room. There were exposed bricks on one wall which gave it a rustic feeling, and the white sleek details everywhere else made it feel modern and minimalistic - just like Azriel preferred.

Azriel leaned against his counter and sipped his coffee. He glanced at the clock on the wall which told him that he had 15 minutes left before the phone call. His hands were sweating. Was it because the coffee was so warm? Azriel tried to tell himself that the coffee was the reason for his warm hands, but it was more difficult to find an explanation for the butterflies in his stomach.

He was nervous. Not because of what they were going to talk about - he could probably guide someone through this in his sleep. But because she made him nervous. It’s one thing to see someone in a video and talk via DMs and an entirely different thing to facetime that person. What if she thought that he was ugly?

As the thought entered his mind, he shook his head as if trying to shake the thought away. Why did he care? He was just helping her with a problem. It didn’t matter if she found him ugly because this was a one-time thing. He would never see her again.

The butterflies turned into a tight knot in his stomach.

Azriel let out a low groan and went to his wardrobe to get dressed. He put on a black T-shirt and black jeans - his standard uniform. He dried his hair hastily with the towel before throwing it in the hamper.

At 10.00 on the dot, Azriel’s phone started ringing on the kitchen island. Or vibrating actually, since he always kept the sound off.

Unknown number is calling

Azriel stared at his phone, suddenly feeling very shy and questioning everything he knew about computers. He checked his reflection in the microwave and let out a deep breath before answering.

“Hello, this is Azriel.” His voice was hoarse, sounding deeper than usual.

“Oh, hi!” A cheery voice said and he was a bit taken aback. In his stupid brain, he had imagined her answering in her whispering voice. “Is this… is this Shadowsinger?”

Azriel decided that her normal voice was just as wonderful as her whispering voice.

“Yeah, this is Shadowsinger. Or well, that’s not my name. I’m obviously not called that. That would be weird…” Azriel babbled, growing more and more self-conscious by the second. He took a deep breath. “I’m Azriel.”

“Hi, Azriel. I’m Elain.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it made him think of sunshine and flowers.

Elain. The name suited her. It was a welsh name that meant fawn. Or at least that’s what Feyre told him one night when she had spent three hours going over possible baby names with their entire friend group (After three hours, Azriel, Cassian, Mor and Nesta had been very drunk and started suggesting weird names from TV such as Khaleesi, Anakin and Buffy which led to Rhys kicking them out.) But Elain wasn’t a weird name. It was pretty. Just like the person that the name belonged to.

“Hello, Elain,” Azriel said quickly when he realized that he had been quiet for a short while.

“Azriel is… an interesting name.” He couldn’t tell from her tone if it was good interesting or bad interesting.

He chuckled. “Yeah, try growing up with the nickname ‘Ass’ in school. Not Az. Ass.”

He could hear Elain laugh and it warmed his heart. “Oh no,” she giggled.

There was a stretch of silence then, both of them unsure of how to begin this.

“So...” Elain started after a few moments. “How do I block words on Youtube, Azriel?”

As soon as the words traveled through the phone, he wanted to ask her to say his name again, but that would be weird. So instead he cleared his throat and got himself into work mode.

“Well, I didn’t know if you were a visual learner, but I created a Youtube account yesterday so I could show you what to do, and you could just follow along if you like?”

God, was he doing too much? Would she find this creepy? Maybe he should just tell her what to do without video.

But to his surprise, Elain did not sound creeped out. “Really? That would be so helpful! How...How can I see your screen though?”

Azriel huffed a laugh. It was kind of cute that she was so oblivious when it came to technology even though she had 250k followers on Youtube.”Well, we’ll change to FaceTime and I will be able to flip the screen and just show you what I’m doing. Is that okay with you?”

He was met with silence.

“Elain?”

“Oh, sorry. I was nodding,” she laughed. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Azriel clicked the icon for FaceTime on his screen and within seconds, her face filled his screen. Her brown hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a mint green hoodie. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and Azriel had to catch his breath. God, why did she have to be so beautiful? He realized that he was staring at her through the screen but his brain wouldn’t form words.

“Hi,” Elain smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I kind of forgot that we would see each other and not just a screen. Sorry that I look like a mess. I’m going to the gym after this...” She gestured to her hair and Azriel had no idea what mess she was referring to.

“What? You look wonderful,” he said and as soon as the words registered in his brain he wished to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground. He winced. “I mean... I just–” he was making it worse. Lovely. “I just meant that you don’t look like a mess.”

She gave him the sweetest smile. “Well, You don’t look too bad yourself.” She was blushing even more now. Was he blushing too? He had never blushed in his life, so he didn’t even know what that would feel like, but he did feel a bit hot.

Azriel cleared his throat. “So,” he started. “I’m going to flip my screen and film my laptop now. Tell me if you can see what I’m doing.”

“Okay!”

Azriel logged into Youtube and held his phone in front of the screen. “Can you see?” He held the phone in front of his computer, and even though she couldn’t see him anymore, he could still see her.

“Just a second,” she said and held up a finger. She was moving and so was her camera. When she reappeared, Azriel was very happy that she couldn’t see him. She was wearing glasses and they made her, if possible, even more attractive. Her beautiful golden eyes looked even bigger. Like a fawn, Azriel thought to himself.

“Yes, I can see when you have the phone so close to the screen,” she answered.

“Okay, good. Are you near your own computer?”

“Yes! And I’m already logged into my Youtube account.”

Azriel nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Great. Then you should see your profile picture here in the corner.” He showed her where to look.

“Mhm, I see it.”

She was focusing so hard on the screen, she had probably forgotten that he could see her. She was leaning in close enough for Azriel to see her freckles.

I want to kiss every single freckle on her body.

The thought entered his brain before he could even react and he was very happy that she wasn’t a mind reader. He tried to ignore her face on his screen and focus on his task.

“You will click the photo, and that should display a menu,” he explained. “Like this. You are going to click ‘Youtube Studio’ here.”

Elain scrunched up her nose in concentration and Azriel thought that he might die from the cuteness.

“Done! What next?”

“Okay, then you click ‘Settings’ at the bottom here,” he showed her where to look. “And then you choose ‘Community’”

“Community?” She asked and bit her lip.

Azriel wanted to bite that lip too.

“Yeah,” he answered, happy that he didn’t have to come up with more advanced words.

“And then you scroll down to ‘blocked words’ here,” he instructed. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I found it,” she answered with a smile.

“Well, aren’t you a gold star student?” Azriel joked and Elain’s face went from smiling to blushing in a nano-second.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

There was a beat of silence again. Azriel wanted to kick himself.

“What now?” Elain asked in a low voice, still determined to get this over with.

“Well, now you just fill in the words you want to block. Make sure that you separate each word or phrase with a comma. And then you just press save and that’s it.”

“Oh, okay. That was easier than I imagined.”

Silence again.

“Can you manage from here?”

Elain bit her lip again. She was staring somewhere behind her phone; probably at her computer. “Ehm, I’m not sure what words to block.”

Azriel thought back to the awful comments he had seen and could think of a handful of words.

“Well, just block the words that these commenters often use, and maybe block bad words in general? You can review your comments later, so if nice comments are being filtered, you can choose to restore them while deleting the bad ones.”

Elain nodded and Azriel didn’t know if he should hang up or stay. So he stayed. His camera was still facing his computer, and Elain was still filming herself. She looked lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Elain?” Azriel asked cautiously, afraid to startle her.

“Hmm?” She looked straight at the camera now, eyes still glossy.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just… tired. I really like doing ASMR, but this sucks. I just want to make people happy and spread positivity, you know? And still, I have to deal with this.”

“Yeah, that must suck.”

Azriel had a question that he had been burning to ask, but he didn’t know if it was too personal. However, as he told himself before, they were never going to see each other again. He could always ask, and the worst thing he could get was a ‘no, I don’t want to talk about it’.

So he asked.

“Elain, can I ask you something?”

She nodded absentmindedly.

“Yesterday you wrote that you had blocked those trolls multiple times. Are you certain that they’re the same people?”

She nodded again. “Yes. In the beginning, they were a bit more creative with the usernames which threw me for a loop. But I realized that it was the same IP addresses every single time, so yeah. I know. I mean, I get hate from complete strangers too, but these people are a bit more persistent .” The last word was spoken through her teeth. She looked upset, but she also looked like she wanted to hide it. Azriel decided to switch his camera back to his face so she wouldn’t feel as vulnerable. And so he wouldn’t feel like a creep for staring at her.

Elain looked a bit startled. “Oh, hi again,” she smiled, but it wasn’t as genuine anymore.

“Do you know these people?” Azriel asked through gritted teeth. He didn’t know why, but he felt very protective all of a sudden.

“Yes, I do. At least the three people that commented yesterday…” she bit her lip again, probably contemplating if she should tell him more. “It’s my ex.”

Azriel tried his hardest to not look surprised and pissed off at the same time. “All three of them?”

With a surprised look on her face, she shook her head quickly. “Oh, god no. No. Just one. His name is Graysen.”

MortalGraysen. Azriel remembered the username because it had sounded so stupid.

“And the other two?”

She let out a long breath. “His stupid best friends, Amarantha and Hybern. Stupid names, right?”

Azriel could only agree. “Very. Why is he bothering you like this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Elain took off her glasses and massaged her temple lightly. “I dumped him after he slept with Amarantha and then…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Then he told all of our friends that he only slept with her because I was so boring in…'' her cheeks flushed again and she didn’t finish that sentence. She didn’t have to. Azriel understood perfectly.

“Okay, so he really is an asshole then.”

“The biggest.”

“Well, I don’t think you can block IP addresses on Youtube, but you could always try to block their names. It might work for a while at least?” Azriel suggested. He needed to help her.

“That’s smart!” she exclaimed and sat her phone down to type. He was very happy that she had leaned it against something so he could still see her.

“What other words should I add?”

Azriel thought back to the comments he had seen. Boobs, nudes, cock, jerk off and tits were all words that she should block, but they were also words he didn’t feel like saying in front of her.

“Just check their old comments and block the words they have used.”

“I’ve deleted the comments, but I remember a few words.” She typed again and Azriel could tell that she was uncomfortable.

“Hey, just block all sexual words and maybe swear words? That should probably work for a while?”

“Okay.” She typed again while Azriel waited patiently. Honestly, he would probably wait forever if it meant that he could watch her on his screen like this.

He felt like a teenager with a crush on the coolest girl in school. He knew that she was out of his league, but his body had not gotten the memo…

“I think I’m done,” she announced and smiled at her phone. At him.

Azriel smiled back. “Which words did you write?” he asked out of curiosity.

Elain picked up her phone and switched the camera so he could see her computer. In the box for ‘blocked words’ she had indeed written a few words.

Blocked words Graysen, Hybern, Amarantha, Boring, Dumb, Stupid, Weird, Ugly, Penis, Vagina, Sex, Sexy, Breasts, Feet, Ejaculation, Nipple, Damn, Fuck, Darn it, Hell,

“Do you think that’s enough?” She asked him in a low voice as if she was ashamed of what she was showing him.

Azriel had to bite his lip in order to keep himself from grinning. It was kind of sweet that she had written down the more technical terms, and not any words that would actually be used on the internet.

“Well, I think it’s a good start,” Azriel answered. “But I think there are a few more words that you should add. And maybe some you can remove from the list.”

“Which ones can I remove?” She leaned closer to her computer, probably trying to find the redundant words.

“I don’t think that trolls will use Darn it, for example.”

Elain pressed the backspace key a few times.

“And which words should I add?” she asked the screen. Her glasses had slid down her nose a bit and Azriel had an urge to reach through the screen and push them back into place.

Azriel scratched his chin, thinking about the best way to phrase it. “Maybe a few synonyms for the words you have written down?”

“Such as?”

Azriel held his breath. “Well…” Azriel hesitated. Was she serious or was she just trying to get him to say dirty words? “I don’t think that internet trolls will use the word vagina.”

“Oh,” her ears turned a lovely pink color. “So I should just add synonyms for that word then?”

“Sure.”

Elain looked lost in thought for a moment before typing again, this time a bit more aggressively. “There are quite a lot,” she muttered.

“Really?” Azriel could only think of two; pussy and cunt.

“Yes. I googled it.”

Of course, she googled a list of synonyms for vagina. Azriel couldn’t hold back his grin this time. She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, still grinning. “Can you read me this list of synonyms?” he teased, thinking that she would tell him to fuck off.

He was wrong.

“Well, there’s pussy, cunt, vajayjay, punani, ho-ha, flower…” she drifted off and Azriel could tell the exact moment it hit her that she was reading these words to a man she didn’t know. “Oh, god,” she groaned and hid her face in her hand. “Please ignore everything that just happened.”

Azriel chuckled. “I rather not. What’s the weirdest word on the list?”

He was invested now.

Elain looked at him through the screen again, but this time he could tell that she was suppressing a smile. “The weirdest one must be fish taco, or bald man in a boat. One just sounds disgusting, and the other one is just… weird? Like, I don’t get it.”

“I think that the ‘bald man’ is supposed to be the...uh,” Azriel could not finish that sentence. He knew that he was blushing now, too.

“Oh,” she said looking surprised, and then disgusted. “Oh, that just makes it worse.”

The laugh that followed was contagious.

As she laughed, Azriel thought back to the day before. To when he had watched her video to fall asleep. In her videos, she was so calm and collected - the complete opposite from this bubbly, laughing person on his screen. Both sides of her were equally fascinating to Azriel and he wished that he could get to know her better. She was so easy to talk to. Azriel never found anyone easy to talk to. At parties, you could find him in the corner with a drink and a good book. He was not a talkative man. But with Elain, he wanted to talk. And he wanted to listen. He wanted her to tell him about her day and her life, which was absurd. They had been talking for like 30 minutes. They didn’t know each other. They would never get to know each other.

“Thank you for helping me with this, Azriel,” Elain said when the laughter had died down. “I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for being a bit weird and reading you that list. I hope that I didn’t cross a line or…”

Azriel held up a hand to show her that he didn’t mind. “It’s no problem, honestly. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much.”

Elain shifted in her seat and picked up her phone again, moving it closer to her face again. “Just like you couldn’t remember the last time you had slept well?”

For a second, Azriel was truly afraid that she was a mind reader because that meant that she had heard him think that he wanted to kiss all her freckles. And then, he remembered the comment he had left on her video a few days earlier.

“Yeah, just like that.”

She leaned her head to the side and regarded him through the phone. “Is that true? You can’t remember having a good night’s sleep?”

Azriel shook his head. “I have suffered from insomnia since I was a child. Sleep has never been a positive experience for me.”

He had never opened up like this to anyone. His former girlfriend never understood why he was awake and why he hated sleepovers. The insomnia had definitely destroyed a few relationships over the years. He could tell that Elain wanted to ask about it, but she didn’t. He really appreciated that.

“Well, I’m happy that I can help you with that anyway. It makes me feel less horrible for making you help me with this on a Saturday morning,” she said and gestured to her computer.

“You didn’t make me do anything. I offered. I was happy to help.”

She gave him the sweetest smile yet and Azriel was surprised when he didn’t melt into a puddle. “Well, thank you. Can I pay you for your trouble?”

Before she had even finished the sentence Azriel shook his head. “No, Elain. I really don’t want you to pay me.”

“Okay,” she bit one side of her lip again. Those damn lips. “Can I give you something else then?”

Did her tone sound flirty? Azriel didn’t know. He might just be hopeful because he started imagining all kinds of things she could give him.

“Like, maybe you could tell me your favorite trigger and I’ll make sure that my next video includes it?”

Azriel swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very thick. “You don’t have to do that, I...”

“But I want to,” she interrupted. “What’s your favorite trigger?”

Azriel was trying to figure out a way to tell her that she was his favorite trigger without sounding like a serial killer. “Well, I don’t really know. I like when you whisper,” he tried, and when she smiled and nodded encouragingly, he continued. “Honestly Elain, I have tried to watch other ASMR videos but they don’t make me fall asleep. Your videos make me fall asleep within minutes. Whatever magic you put into your videos, that’s probably my trigger,” he half-joked.

“Hmm,” Elain regarded him. “I’ll figure something out.” She winked at him teasingly and Azriel hated that this was the first and last time he would ever get to talk to her.

“Well, I really have to go,” Elain declared. “I’m meeting a friend at the gym.”

“Yeah, I have to go too,” Azriel lied. He would have canceled any plan he ever had if he could continue this conversation.

“Well, thank you again for your help, Azriel.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She removed her glasses and looked straight into her camera. It felt as if she was staring into his soul.

“Goodbye, Shadowsinger.”

“Goodbye, Flower Girl.”

The call disconnected and he was left staring at his apps. Not a single one interested him.

With a heavy sigh, Azriel walked to his bed. He was planning to lay down and scream into a pillow when he received a text from a number he didn’t recognize.

New message I searched for a few more synonyms, and this one for penis is horrendous. Just listen to this: Meat banjo. Isn’t that just horrible? I’m definitely blocking that word.

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. It really was a horrendous synonym and he could imagine her sitting in front of her computer, making disgusted faces at the various words on her screen.

New message Oh, this is Elain, by the way.

And that’s when it hit him.

She had texted him and he could see her number. That meant that he could save her number on his phone. It also meant…

Well, he honestly didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t feel like screaming into his pillow anymore.

[haifengg]

Errands - Nanami Kento

Pairing: NanamixGN!Reader

Genre: Fluff // general summer or spring feelings // Is fashion a genre?

Summary: First dating Nanami and getting to know him better. On a bigger side note also about his clothes.

Word Count: about 1.6 k

One of the things that drew you to Nanami since the very first day of working together, was the way he dressed. Not just because he was one of the very few people at the school who didn’t wear all black uniforms but because he chose seemingly the same outfit every day. Which appeared odd to you. You wondered how his wardrobe would look like and if he really owned the same set of clothes a bunch of times to rotate them on a daily basis.

Then you started observing him a little closer and not only did you mentioned his  subtle perfume but also did it come to your attention that in fact he wasn’t wearing the same clothes every day. The colours variated only in nuances and the fabric too wasn’t the same. Some shirts of his were a simple cotton blend but others were made out of a more pattern woven fabric. A lot if his shirts were in fact blue. But they tend to have all sorts of different undertones.  A lot of them dipping into a grey palette. 

His suits also differed and after a few weeks of subtly stalking his clothes you arrived at the conclusion that he probably owned three to four different suits. Maybe some darker ones as well since housed to be a regular salary man. The beige-ness of them wasn’t all the same either. Because his shirts - even though one doesn’t see it at first -  were in fact very different in warmth of the color and texture of the fabric, he had ad least two beige coloured suits. Which he always managed to match perfectly to the dress shirts. 

Nanami surely had a favourite tie. Which he wore a lot and how you later found out: Owns three of. But he had a few other choices as well which he only chose when he was tied down to his desk with paperwork and wasn’t going into the field. Just as if the yellow tie with the golden touch was his battle tie. The one that boosted his confidence. Maybe even kind of his trade mark.

After taking note of all these different things you figure that he probably had to be a man of minutest detail. Not choosing too brightly coloured shirts because different shades of blue would complemented his hair better. 

And you wonder if other people paid that much attention to him as well or if it was just you.

After that thought formed in your head you realised how much you were thinking about Nanami Kento over the past few weeks and that you had - according to your data and previous crushes you had on other people - fallen for him.

Luckily Nanami was paying just as much attention to you than you were paying to him. He simply was way more discreet about it. But when he eventually was certain that asking you out was worth the trouble and pondered the emotional dividend - he did it. He asked you out. Very bluntly, very straightforward and your heart dropped to your knees. Because you secretly hoped that all your rapture would never have to be acted on.

[…]

Seeing him out of work not only made you realise how sweet of a man he is behind all those glasses, holsters, fighting and stern face, but also gave you more inside about his choice of clothes. During summery after noon dates he tend to show up in light linen shirts and slacks, a different pair of glasses than the one he wore to work. You would have never taken him for a jute bag kind of guy but he carried one of these pretty often.

When you asked him about it he only smiled softly and offered to show you. Then you got into a subway, holding on to the same pole. His arm holding on to it over your shoulder, giving you a feeling of being protected. And basically forced you to stare into his chest. As you exited the train after a rather long ride at a station you’ve never been to before, he put his hand into the smallest of your back, guiding you towards the exit and standing closely behind you on the escalator. Unwillingly your heart skipped a beat because it was the first time he physically touched you. 

Stepping out of the station you looked around, shielding your eyes from the sun using your hand. Yet there was nothing to see. Where ever he brought you seemed to be just a typical area were people lived. Went to work in the morning and returned to in the evening. 

“Are you disappointed?” He asked, looking at you with an amused expression on his face. You deny his question and say that you’re just really confused why he wanted to show you a a suburban area of the city you both lived in.

“You wanted to know what the bag is for. I’ll show you.” He walked a few steps, then turned around when he noticed you weren’t following him. “Come on!”

So you went. And followed him. Like a shadow, once again, slowly observing his moves and actions, how he talked to the people. How he wasn’t the nicest or most polite person at work talking to his coworkers but smiled at the owner of the book shop were he went to pick up an order. You saw his eyes wrinkle as he laughed at a joke and how his eyes light up when they talked about the development of the area for about a minute.

He put the book and the paper in his jute bag.

Then he went on to the dry cleaners, pulled out a coupon from his wallet and picked up two of shirts of his. Once again he took the time to chat with the owner. The elderly lady seemed delighted to see him and they talked just as if they have known each other for a long time. One time she looked past Nanami’s tall frame to catch a glimpse at you and asked who you might be. But he cunningly smiled and replied: “I will tell you some other time.” And winked at her and the lady giggled like a young girl. You wouldn’t trust your eyes. Nanami Kento, the grumpy guy from work was flirting with the owner from the dry cleaners. Who was this man. 

By the time you got to the market, the sun had long since started to set and cast long shadows over the busy vendors. 

“Would you hold this for me?” Nanami asked and handed you the shirts wrapped in plastic foil. During the past one and a half hour you barely said a word to each other. But now he asked you all kinds of questions, while also chatting with the vendors and filling the jute bag on his shoulders with fruit, vegetables and all kinds of other groceries.

“Do you like fish? Or do you prefer vegetables?”

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

“How about anchovies?”

“Oh look, they got tomatoes, don’t they look just great?”

He bought bread from a small bakery at the corner of the market, strawberries from another lady in wellies and a hooverette. When she saw you following him at every turn like a little duckling, a big smile grew on her face, making her eyes disappear in a bunch of wrinkles and she gave him some extra fruits for you to try. 

[…]

“So why were you carrying that bag exactly? To run errands?” You ask him, leaning back and eyeing him from across the small table in his kitchen. He twirled the stem of the wine glass between his fingers and scoffed.

“No, honestly I wanted to take you running errands with me for while so I always took the bag in case I would manage getting you to accompany me. But the opportunity just never presented.”

The honesty of his words surprised you and caused you to raise an eyebrow. “Why did you want to run errands with me?”

“Because I am a different guy with the people of my community. Of course I could have told you but how classy is that really? Showing you would be much more impressive.”

You hold up your glass to watch the light refracting in the most different shades of red. “That’s a fair point. Laos I probably wouldn’t have believed you.” His laughter chimed through the kitchen and out the open window, where the wind got hold of it and carried it away. 

“You know, people tend to mistake me for someone sort of person that I am not for most of the time.” You nod and he resumed impishly like a little boy: “On another hand I wanted to show you were I live.”

“You wanted to lure me into your place?”

“Yes.” Nanami admits and laughs. He leaned back and thrummed on the table using his thumb. After you had finished the shared dinner he prepared for you after coming home he had  crossed his legs and pushed up the glasses to rest on his hair.

“What for?”

You take your eyes off the shimmering wine in your glass to search for an answer in his eyes. The flashing blue eyes, so wonderfully complemented by the shirt he chose to wear today. Narrow light blue stripes. To your surprise there was nothing to search for. Because Nanami was already spelling it out for you.

“To let you know how much I like you.”

Masterlist

@sagedevans @shampoocifer @your-consulting-fangirl

[cruciatusforeplay]

This is part two of a hella big post. Check out part one here. These are all a lot more recent, so I'm gonna try to be less spoilery, but there are gonna be some.

A not-so-brief history of Hawkeye in Comics Part Two (spoilers below the cut)

A note on events, dying and doubling down on Hawkeyes

Comics love doing big events, and I'm not covering them in here. Partly because they are huge and complex and to just focus on Hawkeye would be an injustice to the stories, but also because the amount of stuff I would need to spoil would be way beyond just a little Hawkeye. Clint was involved in Secret Wars (1984), which was one of the first crossover events of its kind. Another notable era is 2004-2009, where there is an incredible amount of superhero politics driving big narratives. If you're new to comics, you might not know that characters dying is common and rarely permanent. This is relevant because while I said that I wouldn't talk about events, I think it would be pretty uncool to not mention that Hawkeye dies and is brought back to life (Avengers Disassembled, House of M, New Avengers #26). It's around here that Clint picks up the Ronin mantle.

This is also when Dark Reign/Dark Avengers is going on. For anyone who'd like some Clint whump from this era, there's a top notch naked torture scene in New Avengers Annual (2009). Clint is involved in several other big events and crossovers over later years, but that's definitely a seperate list.

In the time where Clint is dead, Captain America is hanging out with a group of newly formed Young Avengers, including archery badass Kate Bishop. Cap suggests to her that she take up the Hawkeye mantle and gives her Clint's old bow. After Clint returns, he becomes initially her mentor, before they form a very close friendship. Clint is initially doing Ronin things, but even when he lays down ninja robes, they decide to be very Hawkeye about the whole thing and both keep calling themselves Hawkeye, despite the obvious confusion this causes.

Hawkeye's ears: Hawkeye vs. Deadpool #0-4 (2014)

This is a fun little miniseries that you could treat as a Halloween special if you so desired. It's set in the time after Fraction's run and there are a few callbacks, but nothing major if you've not read that. Clint is a little short-tempered and hypermasculine in this run for my personal taste, but it's got lots of grumpy Clint Vs sassy Wade while they vaguely attempt to team up. The thing this run does really well is Clint's deafness, despite the lack of visible hearing aids. There are comments around lip-reading, wearing aids when wearing other headgear, there's some sign language, and this is the run where Deadpool pulls his mask up so Clint can lipread and see his face while he signs (facial expressions are really key in sign language). It's lovely. Otherwise the run gives you a Kate cameo, some Deadpool and Hawkeye disaster/shenanigans, and perhaps most importantly, the return of the skycycle.

Key background: All New Hawkeye #1-6 (2015)

This run is often overlooked, but the art in the flashbacks is beautiful. We get some key information around Clint and Barney's abusive home situation - with their dad who drank and beat them, and how they ended up in care after their parents died, and subsequently their early days in the circus. There is a definite shift in how Barney is characterized as a bad influence compared to the 2003 run. It parallels with the rest of the arc which focuses on Clint and Kate Bishop working together to get some kids out of a very bad situation. The rest of Lemires run is a little weird and has no major repurcussions for anyone except Barney (which I won't elaborate on because it's relevant to the Fraction run).

Back to your roots: Tales of Suspense #100-104 (2017)

Seeing Clint cycle back and return to Tales of Suspense is really lovely. This comic is one of my all time favourites. It's incredibly tight story-telling with a great plot and really fun dynamic. The premise is Clint and Bucky teaming up to figure out the body trail being left after Black Widow's death. Clint is obnoxious and a delightful mess, Bucky is sporting a permanent scowl and is hilariously level-headed. It's a lot of fun and it's a lovely build on the tension and teamwork between these two idiots (who I, as an avid Winterhawk shipper, am completely gone for, but even without that, this is a great comic.) It also has some killer covers, and the facial expressions are absolutely hilarious.

Hawkeyes together: Hawkeye #13-16 (2017) and West Coast Avengers #1-10 (2018)

The Hawkeye run is Kate Bishops run and it has a larger continuing storyline that runs from the beginning of her Hawkeye and way into WCA, but I've listed the issues that you'll want for Kate and Clint shenanigans, and you should be able to catch up without the rest if you don't want it. These comics are ridiculously fun, especially West Coast Avengers, which has Kate leading the team this time. There's loads of jokes, and it strikes a nice balance between Hawkeyes being disasters and being hyper competent. Truthfully, this is Kate's show, and Clint takes a backseat, but their dynamic is killer here so I think is deserves a mention. There are also plenty of Clint related wardrobe malfunctions and Lucky the Pizza Dog is around.

Our most recent boy: Hawkeye freefall #1-6 (2020)

I haven't read this one yet, but it's been extremely well received by the fandom. As a result, good news: no spoilers! It's a short run, which may have had something to do with it being published during 2020, and specifically around a time when Marvel were experiencing some major distribution issues (which would have led to digital release only and as a result lower sales), but that's all guesswork because I haven't actually researched it. This run has someone dressing as Ronin and letting Clint take the blame for their nefarious deeds (oh no!). Clint makes some classic Clint (read: dumpster fire) decisions, and the art looks fun and vibrant. Can't really give you more without reading it myself 😅 If you need more Clint still, he's also rumoured to be knocking around in the 2020 Black Widow run, but I've not had the money to get my mitts on that yet either.

Notable AUs:

Marvel is a big fan of throwing a well known cast into an alternative universes, so there are a few other places to look for him.

The Ultimates universe was largely speaking a bit of a shitshow, but they did give us a very dark and gritty Clint, so if that's your jam, ultimate hawkeye is the place to be. Old Man Hawkeye appears alongside Old Man Logan, and they are both, you guessed it, old. It's not the only time we get Clint as a wrinkly dude (the second half Lemire's run also has some timey-wimey stuff happening), but this is a version of Clint who is going blind (granted we've seen that before too, but this is a darker vibe than Blindspot). Wanna know who the greatest marksman is without his sight - old man Hawkeye for you! Finally there's the Zombie 'verse: zombie Clint is a little confused, but he's got the spirit. Clint got zombiefied and then left in some rubble as only a head for 40 years before getting picked up, so he's a little worse for wear. If you need that in your life then Marvel Zombies is your universe. For a full rundown of all the universes including animated and MCU, click here.

Notable aliases:

Clint's been a few other people than Hawkeye in the 616 universe (the main Marvel Comics universe). He used one of Hank Pyms growth serums and became a giant strongman in Avengers #63 (1969) and stuck around in his Goliath form for more than a few issues. After Cap had died, Clint returned from the dead and tried on Captain America for all of one issue in Fallen Son #3 (2007). He decided (with a little help from Kate) that it wasn't right to wear the uniform, which in turn led to some interesting tension between him and Bucky Barnes when Buck did become the new Captain America. Finally, there's his most well-known alternate persona: Ronin. Clint becomes Ronin after returning from the dead, wanting a break from his Hawkeye persona and an opportunity to become Ronin arises in New Avengers #27 (2007). Clint is not the only person to have used these aliases. Additionally, Hawkeye has been used not only by Clint and Kate Bishop, but also by Bullseye during the Dark Reign.

The things we haven't talked about

Like I said at the very beginning, there is a lot of Clint Barton knocking around in comics and even with all this there's a lot of content I haven't focused on. For instance, I've not talked a lot about his relationships, beyond his marriage to mockingbird (and really I only scratched the surface with that), and honestly once you start getting into interpersonal relationships we're starting to move on from what can be done in a Tumblr thread.

There are also some topic specific threads floating around, which you might like to look at too.

@vaguelyrotten has done a run down of some great dumpster fire Clint Barton comics (some of which I haven't listed) and you can see that here.

@bobbimorses did a great summary of Clint's historical deafness for instance which you can find here.

There's also this little bit all about Clint and Bucky in canon (thanks to @nightwideopen ) and how Winterhawk became a thing (thanks to @1000-directions )

This is slight sidenote, but @clintscoffeepot did a really great comprehensive of Fraction Clint's apartment which is just a really useful writing resource and you can get that here.

There is also this website which I stumbled across fairly far into writing this post which does actually look like it might be comprehensive.

If I've missed anything major, or listed something incorrectly or you just have some Clint related opinions that I need to know about, do hit me up.

[troddensodden]

Physical Features OC Ask Game !! 👁 What is your OC’s eye color? Do they have any eye-related habits, like winking or rubbing their eyes? Do other people tend to notice their eyes? 💇 What is your OC’s hairstyle? How do they maintain their hair? Do they wash it and/or cut it regularly? Have they ever dyed their hair? 👖 What type of clothing does your OC generally wear? Why? Do they have any “signature” accessories?

since its the only ask i have so far, im gonna answer each of these for all three of my current ocs :D hope thats okay!

cedric: fallout 4 || alistair: fallout 4 || emil: fallout new vegas

eyes—

-cedric: blue-green eyes! however he actually only has one, in a sense, because a bomb once blew up close enough to his face that it burned the skin, and damaged his left eye enough that he went blind in it. he tried to take care of the injury, but the commonwealth doesnt exactly have many medicine or skincare products. it ended up getting a pretty gnarly infection, which only made it worse after scarring. so now, he wears an eyepatch over it! he regularly wears a gas mask out in the wasteland, mostly for radiation protection but partially because he is somewhat insecure about his eye, and the look of the skin around it. when he isnt wearing one though, people do definitely notice his eyes for that reason, more than anything else. he doesnt have any particular habits, other than consistently wearing an eye covering.

-alistair: his eyes arent anything particularly special, really. just a plain dark brown, dark enough to look black from a distance. he doesnt have any specific habits, per se, as he is a synth and thats not necessarily in his program. however, if hes close enough with someone, he will make a fair amount of (bad) jokes or comments and accentuate them with a wink or an eyebrow raise. also, when hes frustrated he sometimes will rub his eyes with his palms, or do long drawn out blinks and eyerolls. his eyes arent all that notable though, so people dont take much notice of them often, outside of their expressiveness.

-emil: a sort of grey, green, hazel, blue, combination? really, they dont seem to have much of a set eye-color. its hard to determine. so on the occasion that someone asks, theyll give a different answer every time, sometimes answering with a color that is definitely not even close to the actual color. furthermore, theyre quite the mischievous and flirtatious type in some cases, so winking is something they do quite often, and are able to do with either eye. other times, theyll look someone up and down when facing them, but with an absent expression that makes it hard to tell whether theyre checking the person out or sizing them up. their eyes dont get noticed often because again, they arent anything particularly special, but when in a relationship, they do find that partners seem to take a particular interest toward the confusing matter of their eyes, specifically the color.

——

hair—

c: pre-war, he kept his hair relatively well-managed, a tidy crop with maybe a bit more length than the "average" mens cut. post-war, however, he frankly sees getting his hair done as too much effort, only occasionally stopping for a trim and otherwise letting it grow out, and tying it up if it gets in the way. his boyfriends quite fancy this, liking to play with it when they spend time together. maccready, on occasion, will even braid it if hes stressed or in a bad mood, as a way of calming himself down. (when he does this, cedric tries to keep the braid in as long as possible.) washing hair isnt necessarily easy, in a world where even just clean water itself is in short supply, let alone soap. however, he does try his best to clean it when he can, because he doesnt like the feeling of dirty hair. he also has never dyed his hair, because hes always been content with his natural brown color, even if its a bit "plain."

a: he keeps his hair close to a stubble, consistently. his hair doesnt grow very rapidly, but still, he will likely be seen getting his hair cut every couple weeks to keep it from growing out. he likes looking put together, and will rarely ever be caught genuinely dirty. any chance he gets to clean himself, he will, and any time he needs a haircut, you can bet he'll be on his way to the nearest place that offers it. he refuses to dye his hair, saying that it creates a look of unprofessionalism, (and hair dye doesnt go well over black usually.) nobody really understands why hes so insistent on looking put-together and professional all the time, but they accept it, even if he sometimes takes more time to get ready in the mornings than anyone else.

e: shaved on one side, long on the other. its also naturally got a bit of curl, which adds volume so it doesnt get too flat and stringy when it goes unwashed. they dont wash their hair as obsessively as alistair, though they will do a quick clean if they get the time. they dont particularly like the idea of using irradiated water to clean off, but its that or use purified water which is in relatively short supply. however, foraging is a bit of a strong point for them, so they will use natural supplies for cleaning off if possible, from plants and such. keeping hair maintained is hard in a relatively desolate area like the mojave, but whenever they find scissors and some free time theyll do a trim. scissors arent exactly a match for a nice set of clippers, but you learn to make do. they have dyed their hair with some temporary colors before, but never anything permanent—they actually quite like their natural gingery-blond color.

——

clothes—

c: whatever will protect him while also being comfortable enough that he can tolerate him with his sensory issues. however, in situations where he needs to looks somewhat "official," he will wear his minutemen-issued jacket over a decent shirt and pants set. however, he will rarely ever be seen without some sort of mask, unless the situation happens to be one where a gasmask or something similar would be improper. even then, the eyepatch stays on. so id say the eyepatch is somewhat a "staple" of his wardrobe, though its less of a fashion choice and more of what he deems a necessity.

a: if possible, he would regularly wear a button-down and pants that match. however, in an irradiated post-war wasteland, with hostiles around every corner, thats not a particularly feasible option; thus, he wears whatever is available that is in good condition but also effective. effectiveness is his priority, of course, but it does frustrate him if his clothing doesnt at least look decent. people see him as a bit of a pansy for it, but when he was in the institute, he was used to wearing a uniform that was focused on looking clean rather than being highly functional. so after escaping, that stuck with him a bit. he does, however, have an accessory he refuses to be without, and thats his and noras wedding ring. even after forming new relationships and finding a new purpose in the world, its impossible to move on from someone who was his whole world, what feels like only a few months ago.

e: emil most definitely prioritizes function over fashion. appearance is important, sure, but they recognize that it definitely is not the most important, when youre traveling across a hot desert full of giant scorpions and gang members. however, one thing that they always have, whether theyre wearing it or just has it in their pack, is this one puffy jacket, with a fur-lined hood. they found it in the dresser of a destroyed house they were scavenging through, and it somehow was in near-mint condition. the reason it was so special to them, though, is because it had a note in the pocket, from a girl to her older sibling. the girl being emils sister, who moved away with their father after their parents got divorced. the letter was addressed from her to them, but was never sent. and sure, while they knew that this almost definitely confirmed she had died, they were just happy enough having something from her. so they never go without the jacket, even though its warm (and a bit heavy.) impractical, but sentimental.

[secretpction]

— ELIXIR STYLING;

#ARION: He will unintentionally look either hot or homeless with no in between. Once, he wore the same thing for a week once he noticed Dispatch was on to him. It was later revealed that he just weirdly has several of the same outfit. Fans joked that it was his uniform and the guy just went with it.

#HECATUS: Your classy rich boy. Only has suits and silk shirts in his entire wardrobe. This stuff screams expensive and only the best for him. In reality, Naida had helped him pick out half his stuff. When he’s in his casual fits, people always assume he’s a rich businessman and they’re not wrong. Jiyeong stays booked!

#HYERAN: Hyeran’s style is quite different from the rest of them, having bright and bold colors that definitely make her stick out of the crowd of 10 people. This combination of bright palettes and the fact that she’s a quiet person makes her have the aura of a whole model. She loves flaunting her sense of style by planning outfits. She thinks it could just be her newest hobby.

#NAIDA: The typical soft, pastel aesthetic in human form! She is never seen and never will be caught without wearing a sundress or anything that has a floral pattern on it. Many of their fans actually say that she looks like a fleeting fairy with how she dresses herself.

#SIREN: Her style screams I’m a bad bitch you can’t hurt me! Siren’s wardrobe is like a sharp, chic, I’m cooler and better than you look. She looks like a casual rich person strolling through the streets and dragging her friends to stores and buys stuff for them before heading out to a party. Mostly stays loyal to monochrome outfits but a whole portion of her wardrobe is just black and white, much like Amaris’ wardrobe.

#SHADOW: The angsty teenage cousin that sits at the corner of a party on his phone during any event. He loves dark streetwear and will be caught dead wearing anything bright and colorful. Doyun has an obvious love for stripes and denim. He loves to accessorize, often adding chains, bracelets and whatnot to add a lot more depth to his fit for that day. He somehow always figures out a hundred different outfits but only has three pairs of shoes to switch between. He just really likes the black and blue combination.

#AKI: Jia has that casual style that’s steadily becoming more and more popular. If you ask her, she would definitely say she’s the reason why it’s becoming popular (jokingly, course. She almost always immediately becomes bashful). Her most recent color obsession is blue so most of her outfits has to have that color somewhere. A purse to match and overall boost the fit could never hurt, Jia says!

#AMARIS: For someone who only wears two colors (black and white, if it isn’t obvious yet), she makes it work. There are literally only two colors in her entire closet but so many different styles and patterns that make the entire thing fresh for each day! She really said fluctuating styles with just 2 colors and she is killing it!

#CALIX: It has been said that the amount of green and brown Calix wears on the daily makes him look like a gardener. Jia looked into his closet once and found that his style pretty much consists of baggy shirts, pastel colored or earth toned, and/or overalls. He is pretty much Elixir’s resident soft boy!

#WILLOW: Willow is a huge fan of earthy tones! He also thinks layering is a great way to show off his wardrobe while still looking stylish. He has this really sweet and fresh aura to him and his style only uplifts that with outfits that truly bring out his personality. 

[shadow-stars16]

The crows in school(modern)(Singaporean edition)

TW ⚠mentions of eating disorders

Kaz

Kaz dislikes the uniform strongly because he thinks he looks weird in it as the rest of his wardrobe is filled with Black colour clothes except his school uniform. Kaz is always judged by his classmates since he doesn't talks much except to Jesper some girls would even gossip about Kaz and how dangerous he is. Even though with all the gossiping and the dislike from his classmates his teachers were being unhelpful for telling Kaz to just talk to his classmates which doesn't works. Kaz also gets good grades in like every subject and would sometimes help Jesper by giving him to copy his homework only Jesper not other classmates because Jesper is his best friend and only friend. One day Kaz walked passed a group of girls gossiping about him and realised this are his classmates so he went up and asked whether there is any homework. Kaz knew that the girls were gossiping about him he pretends to not hear it and asked the girls if there was any homework. The girls were in shock and one of them replied"errrr.... I don't know ask the teacher I guess." Kaz just replied with alright and he walked away. Kaz also joins a CCA( co cirliculum activity) since it's compulsory so he joins the robotics club with Jesper. Kaz is also adopted by Jesper's parents but he didn't change his last name as Jesper's parents leave it up to him.

Jesper

Jesper is okay with the uniform he just doesn't likes the rule that specifies no jewelry. Jesper compared to Kaz was a litteral mess, his worksheets are all crumpled but in the end he miraculously still managed to pass for many subjects but he does especially well in math. Jesper is not interested in any CCA like litterally no, since CCA is compulsory he is just forced to join one and he joins concert band, he does not enjoy and even skips practices sometimes since his father forced him to join after a year he quits concert band to join robotics club with Kaz. Jesper also occasionally goes to the library to borrow some books to read to Wylan generally Jesper is a chaotic mess and he scores mostly B's. Jesper also takes D&T( design and technology) as one of his subjects, he likes D&T and always finishes his work faster than anyone in his class(usually a few lessons ahead of everyone) . Even though he can finish school work on his area of interest he struggles with other subjects and often seek help from Kaz or Wylan or he just doesn't cares at all. To be honest he just seeks help because he needs to move on to the next level or else he gets retained.

Inej

Inej is the girl who much prefer to wear PE(physical education) attire than uniform because the PE shorts are way more comfortable than the skirt. Inej scores well for all PE assessments like no shit she's even better than the guys. She is in volleyball as that's one of the only sports CCA girls can join. Inej likes to play volleyball but hates her CCA mates. Most students in volleyball are just the mean girl type and Inej hates them to the core. Inej is also a really polite student which makes her many teachers favorites which make her look stuck up. Since inej scores really well for PE and she cares about it, she is her PE's teacher favorite student. Since inej is also a minority in Singapore she oftenly get makes fun of because of her skin colour and she chooses to ignore it. Inej mostly gets a B4 or a B3 for every class. Inej also goes to other sports class outside school such as taekwondo( Korean martial arts which involves like self defence) (if there is any of y'all who know more about taekwondo even more than me feel free to correct if I'm wrong). Sometimes Inej secretly wished that she had a lighter skin tone so she wouldn't be made fun of.

Nina

Nina is a really loud and popular girl in school, she's okay with school uniform and doesn't bother too much about them either. Nina have a lot of friends and has a huge Instagram following, she doesn't has the best grades for school to be honest she always just gets a C5 or a B4 and tends to fail one or two subjects. Nina also tends to joke around with teachers which some of the teachers don't mind. Before she was this loud and popular girl in school, she suffered from body image issues and had an eating disorder because of bullying from her classmates,since now she's a little slimmer than before and also transfered school as her classmates from her previous school makes fun of her body. Nina does not really care about school she genuinely cares for her friends and spends time writing cards to her friends for maybe the start of school or end of school since she had so many friends. Even though Nina doesn't seem like she cares about school she does do her homework all the time and does pretty okay for test. Nina finds a special interest in biology though for some reason maybe because of her heart rendering powers, but Nina wants to be a social media influencer which kinda had nothing to do with school. As Nina's popularity grows people thought that Nina was mean when they first started befriending her but it is not she just has too many friends and hangs out oftenly with only a few friends. Nina's Instagram stories are all filled with memories of her going out with her friends and talking about mental health everytime she talks about mental health she looses a couple of friends even though she feels sad about it, she knows that they are not mean to be and they should go. The closest friends she kept by her side all supported everything she did and she returns the support to them too. Nina's CCA is concert band and she plays the trumpet she likes concert band as it is fun and enjoyable.

Matthias

Matthias does not feel anything about the school uniform. Matthias is mostly very loyal to his friends he isn't the super popular type of guys but he has a few friends and his life works out fine with them. One particular not so masculine trait about Matthias is he likes cooking but he doesn't lets others know since they might think that he's gay. He scores pretty much like an B3 to an A1 for any subject that he takes. Matthias is the type of guy who sticks to a routine like waking up earlier just to work out or go for a run at like 4am and sleeping at like 8pm. Matthias rarely post on Instagram most of his post were only just workout stuff or his pictures when he occasionally went out. Matthias does half his homework when he is eating breakfast the other half from the previous night. He doesn't enjoy waking up this early and wished school would start later but he knew working out in the morning is better than working out after school. Matthias is in NCC( national cadet cops) a uniform group CCA, Matthias is also really good at PE like Inej. A lot of teachers like him because he is very hard working and puts a lot of effort into his work. Matthias also takes F&N( food and nutrition) , he usually gets really good grades. He is partnered with Inej for F&N and they usually come out as one of the best in class, they are a really productive duo and they know how to complement each other as friends.

Wylan

Wylan looks really cute in school uniform for some reason every feature of his just complements the school uniform and Jesper compliment him about it everyday. Wylan is a very smart person he gets like A2 or A1 for basically every subject and particularly excels in music he usually gets near to full marks for every music test and he is very happy about that even though his father is not the most happy about that since he should be scoring as well for his other subjects so he can inherit his wealth. Jesper and Wylan hangs out all the time in school they usually hang out at Jesper's house after school and he helps Jesper with his homework. Sometimes during the school holidays Wylan would come over for a sleep over and Jesper, Kaz and Wylan would just talk forever. Kaz can talk to Wylan about architecture building and how much is some art piece worth and they all chat happily together. Ones they decided they are going to go to bed, Jesper takes out Wylan's favorite book and reads it to him until he falls asleep. Wylan finds Jesper's voice mesmerising and could call asleep just by Jesper reading stories to him.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

M*A*S*H: The Characters, Part 3: Frank Burns, Radar O’Reilly, Maxwell Klinger, and Father Francis Mulcahy

While characters like Hawkeye and Margaret grew and changed, and other characters, like Trapper and Henry, moved on (in one way or another), some characters found themselves doing neither: rather, stagnating, before in a way, moving backwards.

Such is the unlucky fate of Major Frank (Ferret Face) Burns (Larry Linville).

Frank was everything unlikeable about humanity without going quite so far as to be evil.  Hailing from Fort Wayne, Indiana, Frank had a wife and kids back home that he didn’t seem to care much for, choosing instead to have an affair with Major Margaret Houlihan, the only other person who could stand his company.  A Dr. Jerk if there ever was one, Frank’s lack of bedside manner (and even lack of surgical expertise) could make him a liability, not to mention his incredibly strict sense of military discipline, even when it didn’t make any sense.  Definitely The Friend No One Likes, Frank originated as a Foil for Hawkeye, another Gung Holier Than Thou type who put all his faith and trust in the army.  Greedy and self serving, and always seeking to climb the ranks, Frank was The Neidermeyer, a huge stickler for army rules and constantly trying to enforce them, but not possessing any of the guts to go with the army worship

And we’re not even close to done with his problems.

Frank’s job was to represent the dangers of blind patriotism and military fervor.  A Leader Wannabe on top of being a Lawfully Stupid Hate-Sink, Frank existed to make mistakes, act childishly, and overall be a thorn in the side of the 4077th.  In early seasons, he would often pair with Margaret in order to ‘take down’ whatever operation Hawkeye and Trapper had going, but as time went on, and Margaret left him for her fiancé, Frank became more and more pathetic, and by the time B.J. came aboard to replace Trapper, Frank had lost all weight and depth as a character entirely.  His racism and sexism were getting played so ridiculously exaggeratedly, as well as his numerous other flaws, that he was quickly losing any threat as an antagonist, and even his Freudian Excuse of a miserable childhood wasn’t lending him much sympathy.

Without Margaret to back him up, Frank became more ineffective as an ‘antagonist’ character, or even a foil, quickly turning into a universal Butt Monkey and the show’s Chew Toy.  With scarce a victory to his name, and quickly turning into a caricature of his own, already exaggerated, character, Frank had nowhere to go but down, devolved to a point of cartoonish buffoonery that there was no bouncing back from.  To make things worse, the show was maturing, without him, with more nuanced characters like B.J. Hunnicutt replacing Trapper, and Reasonable Authority Figure Colonel Sherman Potter taking the place of the incompetent pushover Henry Blake, Frank was rapidly becoming lost in a show that was becoming more serious and realistic.  As a result, at the end of season five, after Margaret’s marriage, Frank Burns went the way of Trapper and Henry, and left the show: albeit in a completely different way.

In the pilot two-part episode of season six, Frank Burns goes on leave in Tokyo, and (over the telephone, as Larry Linville doesn’t appear at all in the episode) the audience, and the 4077th, are treated to hearing Frank’s mental breakdown following Margaret’s marriage.  After attacking a general and his wife (who resembled Margaret), he’s apprehended, and placed under psychiatric observation, following which he was cleared of all charges, promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and sent home to serve stateside.

In a way, it was almost a level of gut-punch as Henry’s departure, and a bitter taste of irony.  Men like Frank made it home, and were rewarded for their behavior, while men like Henry never got the chance.

It wasn’t fair, sure.  But such is life.

Like Henry and Trapper, Major Frank Burns was never forgotten by the show, or the characters, remembered all the way to the end of season eleven, his absence felt, if not missed, for the remainder of the series.

Which is a distinct dishonor not shared by the last member of the cast to depart before the series ended: Corporal Walter Eugene “Radar” O’Reilly.  (Gary Burghoff)

Radar was the company clerk in position, but so much more in practice.  The embodiment of the Hyper-Competent Sidekick, Radar was the ‘baby of the bunch’, a naïve Country Mouse from Ottumwa, Iowa with a sneaky streak that showed itself when least expected.  The character with the most obvious reason for their nickname, “Radar” had a habit of being able to sense what was about to happen, or what someone was going to say before they knew themselves.  Whether he just had exceptionally good senses and reflexes or was mildly psychic, the show never said, but it’s hard to say that the 4077th didn’t benefit from his ability to anticipate the helicopters arriving with the wounded.

Radar started the show as a kid with a worldly streak and a devious side, before slowly losing these traits as the series went on, becoming more innocent and child-like by the time season four rolled around.  One thing remained the same though: no matter what, Radar practically ran the 4077th by himself.

The person in charge of the paperwork, and chiefly the cog in the machine that made stuff happen, Radar’s position as the Scrounger often meant he was responsible for the critical elements in Hawkeye’s madcap schemes (in early seasons especially).  Radar was always the centerpoint of competency, (the sole one until Colonel Potter showed up) despite his own quirks: sleeping with a teddy-bear and abstaining from alcohol (mostly), preferring grape Nehis, and caring for every animal that happened to cross his path.  In fact, Radar’s chief Berserk Button (besides his height) was anybody harming any animals, to the point where he ended up rescuing the lamb meant for Easter dinner and shipping it stateside, not to mention his explosions of temper at the thought of Hawkeye killing his rabbit to perform a pregnancy test.

Radar tended to follow along with whatever Hawkeye and company were up to, sometimes begrudgingly and sometimes willingly, depending on the situation, always relied upon to make necessary calls and deals, file necessary paperwork, and fill in wherever necessary.  In return, the rest of the unit filled in as ‘family’ for Radar, though never replacing his mother and uncle.

Despite his varying levels of immaturity throughout the seasons, Radar did grow up, and out from under his 4077th family (especially father figures Henry Blake and Sherman Potter).  Early in season eight, Radar got the news of his uncle’s death, leaving only his mother to take care of the family farm, and received a Hardship Discharge.  He got to go home.

And go home he did, although with mixed feelings about how the 4077th would get on without him.  Behind him, he left the symbol of his immaturity: his teddy bear, which would later be buried by Hawkeye in a time capsule in “As Time Goes By”.

“This is my contribution. Radar left me this. Let it stand for all the soldiers who came over here as boys and went home as men.”

Like with Henry (also honored in “As Time Goes By” with his fishing lure), Trapper and Frank, Radar’s departure was felt by the characters, and referenced often.  Unlike Henry, Trapper, and Frank, however, Radar wasn’t replaced in the cast.  At least, not by a new cast member.  

Instead, he was replaced by a fellow corporal, Maxwell Klinger (Jamie Farr).

Klinger was a bit of an anomaly in the M*A*S*H cast in that he had no book counterpart from which he sprang: he was all new, added entirely for the television show.  Hailing from Toledo, Ohio, Max Klinger’s primary character trait was a loathing for the army that manifested itself somewhat differently than it did in the rest of the camp.

Whereas Radar was content to complain, and B.J. and Trapper fine with moderate actions of rebellion, or even Hawkeye settling for vocal disapproval and the occasional mental breakdown, Maxwell Klinger chose to express his displeasure with the draft by doing everything humanly possible in order to get out of the army: specifically by being declared clinically insane.

Throughout the eleven years he spent on the show, Klinger tried everything from wearing women’s clothing to pole sitting in an attempt to get a Section 8 discharge, a pass out of the army.  Medical conditions, family emergencies, wearing heavy coats in a heatwave, sneaking out in a raft, hang glider, or a hearse, Klinger’s schemes regularly made up the subplot of a typical episode of M*A*S*H as he attempted to find a way to escape the military.  (Oddly enough though, his schemes never got in the way of his duties.)

Klinger started out as a one-off joke character early in the first season, played deliberately in a stereotypically effeminate way.  Originally meant to appear in only one episode, reception to the character was incredibly favorable, and Klinger was added to the recurring main cast, going through a little bit of a change.  Actor Jamie Farr suggested that Klinger be a straight man who was just wearing dresses as though they were his uniform, and the matter-of-fact use of his unconventional wardrobe quickly became part of the character’s normal routine, looked on as perfectly normal by all except the antagonistic characters.

Despite starting as a one-note joke, throughout his time on the show, Klinger grew, just like the rest of them.  

While never losing his intense hatred for the military and desire to get out, as time went on, Klinger became more rounded, expanding from just his ‘joke’ personality to having a larger one, demonstrating a deeply caring streak multiple times, notably when he gave Margaret his wedding dress for her marriage to Donald Penobscott.  Throughout the show’s run, more time was given to develop his other attributes: his hard-luck background, his long-distance wedding and divorce, get rich quick schemes, a feud with supply Sergeant Elmo Zale, and his fears that he may actually be going crazy, explored in “War of Nerves”.

In season eight, right after Radar O’Reilly left the show, Klinger found another place on the show: replacement clerk and Scrounger.

At this point, Max’s character shifted slightly, away from the zany schemes and Obfuscating Insanity.  He quit most of the section-8 schemes, notably the women’s dresses, entirely, but remaining a Guile Hero with Hidden Depths, without rescinding into the background.  Initially finding it very hard to take over for the seemingly-psychic Radar, eventually Klinger settled into his new role, even getting promoted to Sergeant, before the end of the show.

And what an end.

In “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen”, after the war has ended, as everyone packs up to go home and says their goodbyes, Klinger makes a completely astonishing announcement: he’s staying in Korea, with his new wife, Soon-Lee.  After all of that effort, all of the crazy things he’s done, from trying to eat a jeep to trying to get into West Point, when he finally gets to go home, he chooses, instead, to stay.

Over eleven years of show, Klinger went from a Fashionista Determinator set on getting out of the army to a clerk and sergeant, who made the decision to stay in Korea to help his wife find her family.  Now that’s what I call growth, especially being one of the only characters who was there from start to finish.

In fact, there’s only one more of those we have left to discuss:

First Lieutenant Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy (William Christopher).

Father Mulcahy is the 4077th’s chaplain, a dedicated and devout Catholic priest, and the unit’s moral compass.  Although a pacifist by nature, Mulcahy was an amatuer boxer, and occasionally demonstrated flashes of righteous fury paired with Good Old Fisticuffs.

“He’s shy, and studious, and yet he has a right hook that could stop a truck.”

The show’s quintessential case of Beware the Nice Ones, and another Deadpan Snarker to round out the cast, Mulcahy tried to make himself useful wherever he could, often struggling with feeling like he barely contributed to the assistance offered by the 4077th.  

Mulcahy and Radar often occupied the same position as the Only Sane Man in the camp, but while Radar would typically crumble under pressure to participate in whatever chaos was going on, Mulcahy tended to be aware of it, but not exactly involved in it.  He was the Heart, the McCoy, a Determinator who wanted to do the right thing, at all times, focusing on his job and trying to make a difference for the better in the camp, and the war at large.

“When you lose a patient, he’s out of his misery. When I lose a patient, he’s lost his soul.”

Oddly enough, for an irreverent comedy show, Mulchay was portrayed as a good man of the cloth, a genuine person who was deeply faithful and religious, without any ‘parody’ elements or ‘joking’ instances of corruption.  Mulcahy practiced what he preached, constantly trying to help those around him, notably the nearby orphanage (with the winnings of the poker games that he always seemed to win).  He was no Load, and no ‘stick in the mud’, by any means, being a moral character who tolerated Hawkeye and company’s shenanigans in good humor, but had no qualms about calling the rest of the camp out when it was needed.  Overall, although not developing too much throughout the show, Mulcahy was a steady constant with Hidden Depths, a much-needed upstanding character who openly displayed the courage and kindness that other characters often hid with jokes.

And in the end, Mulcahy got to go home too.

Like with the others, Mulcahy left Korea a changed man, visibly shaken by the horrors of war, and physically changed as well.  During the finale episode, “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen”, while rescuing prisoners-of-war in the path of an artillery barrage, a shell explodes very close to him.  Although Mulcahy survived the incident, he did so at the loss of most of his hearing, something that only B.J. finds out about.  Mulcahy returns to the states, intending to work with the deaf, but not before saying goodbye to his 4077th flock:

“I’ll miss hearing confession, but after listening to you people for so long, I think I’ve just about heard it all.”

Mulcahy was the last of the main cast of characters to have begun appearances in season one, and one of only four main characters to last throughout the entire show (Hawkeye, Margaret, and Klinger being the other three), but by no means was he the last character we have to discuss.  After all, for all the characters who faded out, new characters faded in to take their place, bringing their own unique color and personality to the positions they now filled.

(Join us next time, where we’ll discuss Sherman Potter, B.J. Hunnicutt, and Charles Emerson Winchester III!)

[blackcatkita]

The Consequence of Secrets- Chapter 25

The Return

It’s back, my friends, and so is Drake! If you’ve stuck with me this long, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I decided to split this chapter to get it out sooner- there is more coming soon. No warnings aside from Drake loving the F bomb, word count is 2288 and credit for this awesome moodboard goes to my bestie, the beautiful, the talented, darley1101. Tag list will be in a reblog because Tumblr, if you’d like to get in on it you need only ask! I hope you like Drake’s (and the series) return and if you do, please like, comment or reblog. I appreciate every single note!

Drake’s idly drumming fingers curl around the steering wheel of his truck, squeezing as he lets out a jaw-popping yawn. It feels like he’s been here for months. Stuck between the hospital and the palace at the longest red light known to man. Noticing the sky to the east barely beginning to grey, he glances at the clock display on the center counsel. 5:23am. He’d been up over twenty-four hours, and that was with what? Three hours of sleep total the night before? No wonder his eyes burn like hell and feel like they’re filled with sand.

He presses the heels of his palms against his eyelids, then blinks away the stars he caused as he rolls down the window to let in the cool morning air. It had been a hell of a day. Between the argument with Olivia and her storming off to learning Jennifer was sick, hearing from Liam and spending the night waiting with him at the hospital; it had been a hell of a few days. He still doesn’t know what Olivia wanted to tell him when Liam called. Could be another of her “get your head out of your ass” lectures about making up with Liam but it didn’t seem like it; not the way she was acting. It was like she was afraid to tell him and from a woman like Olivia Nevrakis, it was… disconcerting to say the least. 

Whatever it was he would find out soon enough. If this goddamn light ever changes. Why it’s even working this early in the morning is beyond him. There isn’t any traffic to regulate yet and it’s not even a major street… which means there’s no one around to see if he should just happen to… go through it. Would be his luck that a cop rounds the corner right as he does it though. Doubtful they would ticket a ‘Guardian of the Realm’ on the Royal Council, assuming he hadn’t been stripped of his title and still had a seat, but it would still be a pain in the ass and would further delay the blissful moment when his head hits the pillow.

“Fuck it. I’ll pay the damn ticket.” He sits up straighter to look to his left, then his right to check for oncoming traffic and that’s when he sees it. The opposite lights- blinking red. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Screwing his eyes shut he thumps his forehead against the steering wheel. He’d been fucking sitting at a fucking blinking red light, waiting for the fucking thing to turn green for God fucking knows how long. Yep, that’s a thing he did. He really, really needs to get some fucking sleep. “Fuck!” he roars, hitting the gas to go through the dumbass light his dumbass sat at for no damn reason. At least the palace is only fifteen minutes away. Fifteen minutes he should use to calm the fuck down before he has to deal with the assholes inside.

The quiet drive calms him and pulling up to the gates, he’s struck with a feeling he can’t quite place. It’s… strange. The Royal Palace had been his home for most of his life, but after what happened, and the way he left, he wondered if it would ever be “home” again. He thought he’d be apprehensive returning but, he isn’t. Not at all. He feels… happy, content, comfortable, like putting on his old denim shirt Jennifer teased him for wearing too often. Maybe Liam was right: it would always be his home.

From the guard shack on his left a man approaches the open window while two others move in front of, and on the other side of the truck. Unlike the dark grey suits or plainclothes of Liam and Jennifer’s personal guards, per tradition they wear the ceremonial dress uniform of the Royal Guard; jackets of Cordonian blue with the same color in a stripe down each side of their black pants. Drake had never had to wear the getup thank God, but he knows under those jackets adorned with buttons and rope and other kinds of nonsense they had on bullet proof vests. They could thank Anton’s attack at the Homecoming Ball for that little addition to their wardrobe.

“Stephens,” Drake greets his former colleague with a nod. “Been a minute. How the hell are ya? How are the wife and kids?”

The guard stands rigid with an expression devoid of emotion and speaks in a clipped tone. “Good evening, Sir. Identification and royal decree you have permission to enter the palace gates.”

“Royal decree, right. Ha-ha, very funny. Now open the gate, it’s been a long ass day.”

“Sir, I cannot allow you to enter our illustrious halls without the express permission of His Majesty King Liam or our beloved Queen Jennifer. If you are unable to provide the proper documents I am afraid I must deem your intentions as malicious and you will be detained for further questioning.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Drake asks. “I was at your wedding for Christ’s sake and there’s no such thing as a ‘royal decree to enter’ pass.”

Stephens’ nostrils flare and he takes a step back, nodding at the guard on the other side of the truck as he lifts his hand to his earpiece. “We have a possible bogey at the front gate, dispatch Tiny and Cheech.”

“The bomb sniffing dogs? Are you serious?”

“I assure you, we take the lives of our King and Queen very seriously.” His suspicious gaze never leaves Drake as he reaches for the extendable mirror clipped to his belt. “Step out of the vehicle please, Sir.”

With an aggravated groan Drake runs his hands through his hair as the guard begins checking the undercarriage for explosives. He should have anticipated this after being gone so long. Practical jokes were commonplace among the guard’s members but he is far from in the mood. Pulling the door handle, he pushes it open little more than an inch before Stephens slams it shut.

“Stay in your vehicle! Stay. In. Your. Vehicle!” he shouts, one hand on his hip holster.

A snort of laughter sounds from the front of the truck and Drake glances up to see Fitzgerald, turned away with his shoulders shaking as he tries to contain his amusement. He turns back to Stephens, standing there with his lips twitching like he’s trying to fight a smile of his own. “Alright, asshole, you’ve had your fun but like I said, it’s been a long fucking day. I’m running on three hours of sleep, drove from Lythikos and spent the night at the hospital with the King and Queen so if you don’t open that goddamn gate right now, I’m gonna shove that mirror so far up your ass you’ll be…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need for such gratuitous violence.” Stephens holds up his hands, laughing as he collapses the mirror. “Cap already told us you were on your way.” He clicks his heels together, standing at attention. “You may proceed, Sir Drake, sir!” Turning toward the gate he draws a circle above his head, signaling to the guard on the other side to open it while Drake puts the truck in gear. As the heavy metal starts to move he turns back around, tapping the handle of the compacted mirror on the open window frame. “Oh and Walker, welcome home.”

Drake huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Watch the paintjob, ya dick.”

He drives through the gate and around to the residential side of the palace, wondering where to park. Should he park in his old spot in the garage that housed the Royal Family’s vehicles? Did he even still have a spot? Staff parking was out unless he wanted to go back through the gates, or there was the garage all the security vehicles were parked. Leave it to nobles to make something as simple as parking so complicated. He didn’t have this issue in Lythikos. No, he parked wherever he damn well pleased; usually in a garage full of cars Olivia doesn’t even drive. A bitter chuckle escapes his lips at the thought. He could park anywhere he wanted but what did that have to do with anything? Is he just the Duchess’ consort or does he hold significance? Ever since he left the Capitol all those months ago it seems no matter where he goes, he doesn’t know his place.

The convenience of a direct entrance from the family garage to the private quarters makes the decision for him and he stops at the bay door, reaching into the center console to press the button on the remote. He drives in, past expensive means of transport he would never buy but loved to drive and pulls into his empty spot. The slamming of the truck door echoes through the open space as he walks across the concrete floor, swinging his key ring around his finger. He unlocks the deadbolt and steps into the hallway, taking a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. Hearing approaching footsteps on marble, he scans the area quickly, gauging whether he has time to escape as Regina appears from around the corner.

She approaches with a modest smile, hair only slightly disheveled and wearing a long sleeved set of lavender pajamas. “Drake, it’s wonderful to see you back at the palace.”

As she gets closer he sees her eyes are red rimmed with bags beneath and the deep furrow of a worry line between her brows. In all the years he’d known her he’d never seen her look so tired. “Your Majesty, what are you doing up at this hour?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep. I was going to take a walk to clear my head… perhaps in the gardens,” she trails off, turning her head slowly to stare blankly down the hall for a few beats before turning back to him. “Were you there? At the hospital?”

“I was,” Drake nods.

“Thank you for that. For being there for them.” Her lips tremble as she attempts to smile, faltering quickly as she clasps her hands too tightly for it to be a casual gesture. “The last I heard from Liam they still didn’t know what was happening. They had taken Jennifer into surgery and I haven’t been able to get ahold of him since.”

“I think he turned his phone off. It was… hard on him seeing her like that and then worrying about the baby… he probably didn’t want to disturb you, being so late and all.”

“Were they able to make a diagnosis?”

Resisting the urge to look away from her scrutinizing gaze, he takes a deep breath, chewing on his lower lip as he lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Regina, but I can’t…”

She holds up a hand to stop him, shaking her head. “I don’t need details and I would never ask you to betray their confidence. I just… I need to know if they’re alright.” She steps forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. She looks up at him, eyes pleading and wet with unshed tears. “Please, Drake.”

Taking in her concerned expression, he argues with himself. This isn’t Queen Mother Regina standing in front of him looking for an edge. This is just a woman, worried sick about her family. She loved Liam like he was her own son, had come to love Jennifer too and was vocal about how excited she was to become a grandmother. No matter what he will always be loyal to Liam and Jennifer and it’s not his place to say anything; but denying a worried grandmother news that will help ease her mind doesn’t sit well with him either. “She was out of surgery and sleeping when I left. From the looks of it Liam wouldn’t be far behind.” There’s no harm in telling her that much. They could all use a bit of good news.

“And the baby?”

“The baby made it through surgery fine. That’s all I know.”

“It is enough.” The breath she releases wavers as she smiles, reaching up to brush a single tear from beneath her eye before it has the chance to fall. “Thank you, you’ve eased my mind considerably. So much so that I believe I may be able to get some sleep after all. Good-night, Drake.”

“Night, Regina.” He watches as she turns back the way she came, thinking it could have been much worse. He could have run into Madeleine. The she-devil always got up at the ass crack of dawn to make sure she was prepared for whatever the hell she thought she needed to be prepared for. An involuntary shudder moves up his spine and he shakes it off, heading in the opposite direction of Regina to his own quarters.

Letting himself in, he flips on the living room light and tosses his keys and wallet on the table by the door. He takes a second, letting it soak in. Like Liam said, it’s exactly how he left it; from the tools he used to hang his new tv scattered on the hearth to the socks slung over the back of the armchair.

The room feels stuffy, the air stagnant from being shut up so long and he opens the window on his way to the bedroom with his hastily packed duffle bag in hand. Dropping it to the floor with a thud, he barely manages to set the alarm on his phone before flopping onto the comforter fully clothed; his last thought whether Olivia will be there when he wakes up as he drifts off to sleep.

[iwrite-sometimes]

Family is thicker than blood

Chapter 2

Rk 400 was a detective prototype designed to assist the DPD with any cases they have, so he didn’t know why he was being taken to a private residence to be a house android. When he meets his little charge, a boy named Connor, he will have to do things he wasn’t programed to do. But as he learns all the horrors the boy has to go through at the hands of his mother, he will feel things he was never meant to feel.

Chapter 1 here

AO3

Life at the Stern house started early. Hank had to wake Connor up and get him ready at 5 o’clock. They had to be fast because the boy was meant to do his morning reading at 5:30. He had to fix breakfast for 6:30 and the kid had to be quick, as he had his first lesson at 7 o’clock. Amanda wasn’t kidding when she said the boy was on a tight schedule, though Hank doubted that woman could make a joke even if her life depended on it.

His detective program was a little more advanced in comparison to the other two, it was clear that he had used it before even if he didn’t have any sort of memory of the time. He assumed he had worked for the DPD at one time, according to the conversation he heard in the lab but any memories he had from that time were gone.

They weren’t able to erase his original purpose, so his ‘personality’ was still there. Hank was meant to blend with police and law enforcement officers. He was meant to be a detective, so he was programmed to be observant, pay attention things others normally ignored and take care of any case that was handed to him. He was a little gruff, some might describe, both in appearance and in his way of being. But that, in a strange way, blended well with the new programs they had installed. He could see this kid was obviously being shaped to be some sort of trophy child, and Hank would do what he could to make his life a little easier. Maybe he could be a friend to the boy, he had seemed awfully quiet last night, but again it was pretty late when he arrived so maybe Connor was just tired.

All of these thoughts went by Hank’s mind while he headed up the stairs to Connor’s room. The poor boy was bound to be cranky, he had gotten at most 6 hours of sleep. Not nearly enough for a child so young, his program supplied. Well, nothing to do. Orders were orders and the kid was probably used to it by now. Maybe in one of his free periods during the day, Hank could fit a little nap or something. He was homeschooled, by the looks of it, so he had some free hours during his day.

Reaching the room at the far back of a long corridor, he saw a little name plate with neat cursive writing attached to the door. Niles & Connor. This is it. Hank gently pulled the door open and saw a simple room. The walls were a soft blue with white carpeted floors. There were two small twin beds on either side of the room just under a big window. Matching desks where near the beds, facing the wall. One of them was packed with books and neatly organized writing supplies. Hank couldn’t see any color pens or children books on either desk, and that made him think that perhaps this was his older brother’s room and Connor had moved elsewhere. He was about to leave when he saw slight movement from the bed on the right. A tiny head peeking out of the covers and what looked like the ear of a plush toy. So this was Connor’s room. The android took a moment longer to inspect the area. There were no toys, the other bed was neatly made and it was clear that no one had slept there for some time. The desk was similar to the bed, there were a few schoolbooks and some pens, but not much else.

From his database, Hank knew that children were often messy. He had expected to find clothes on the floor, books and toys scattered around. Hell, he expected to at least find one colored pencil or crayon, but no. This room looked like a guest room or an adult’s one, but definitely not like a child’s bedroom. Maybe Niles was a lot older than Connor and he didn’t want a childish room, Connor appeared to be quiet and meek enough to go along with anything he was told. Plus, it was obvious his mother favored his older brother.

Shaking his head, Hank approached the little bed. This kid was adorable, tousled brown locks going everywhere, a little pout on his lips, freckles all over his face and thin arms clinging to what looked like a dog plush. Well, at least he had one toy, for the looks of it.

The android gently placed his hand in Connor’s shoulder and gave it a little shake.

“Connor. Wake up, kid.” He kept his voice soft, as to not frighten the boy. The only reaction he got was a weak whine and a little frown on his face. He wished he could let him sleep a little more, but he had to wake up if he was going to make it to his morning reading (why such a young child needed to spend an hour reading at 5 in the morning was beyond Hank).

“C’mon kid, time to get up.” He said a little louder with another shake. Connor turned a little and hugged his dog closer while scrunching up his little face, but didn’t wake up otherwise. “I know you are tired, kid. I promise to try and squeeze a little nap later today, but your mom will be waiting for you in the library in a few, so we nee-”

As soon as Hank mentioned the boy’s mother, he sprung up with amazing speed for someone who had been peacefully asleep mere seconds ago. The kid’s eyes were wide open, scanning the room frantically before falling on the android in front of him. Fear changed to apprehension as he hugged his plush a little closer.

“Hey, it’s ok. We have time. C’mon I’ll help you get dressed and take you to the library.”

Connor blinked up at him owlishly and said nothing. After a beat, he got off the bed and put his dog on the opposite bed. The plush was obviously well loved, a soft St. Bernard dog with big brown eyes that reminded Hank of Connor. Hank noticed that the kid’s pajamas were huge for him. They fell off his little frame and swallowed him whole. Strange. Amanda was clearly not lacking in the money department, so the android couldn’t thing of a reason why the kid had clothes that were obviously not his size. Pushing his thoughts aside for now, he looked back at the toy.

“He’s cute, what’s his name? Or is it a she?” He tried to make conversation with the kid, but as of now, he hadn’t heard a single word come out of his mouth. He really wanted to think the boy was shy and wary of him, being new and all, instead of all the other suggestions that his detective program was giving him.

Connor looked at him for a moment longer before rubbing the sleep of his eyes with tiny fists and turning towards his bed. He climbed it again, and Hank was about to tell him he couldn’t go back to sleep when he realized the kid was beginning to make his bed. The boy was really short, so it was a fit watching him wrestle with the sheets like that.

“It’s ok. Why don’t you go and use the restroom while I do that for you? Then I’ll help you get ready.” Hank moved to pick the child off the bed when he turned to look at the android and rapidly shook his head. The fear he saw when he woke up was back again, it was really unusual. He could see that it was a lost battle, and if he wasn’t careful the kid would freak out.

“How about I help you? You will do everything yourself, but it’ll be easier and faster that way.” Hank moved slowly, as to warn the kid of his intentions. He picked the boy gently and helped him while he fixed his bed. God, this kid weighted almost nothing. Especially since the android was designed to have a bulkier built and could lift heavy things, the boy felt like nothing in his arms.

Once they were done, Hank placed Connor on the floor. The boy had a strange expression on his face, one he couldn’t identify. He looked at Hank for a moment longer before heading to the bathroom, leaving the android standing in the middle of the room. There was something off with this kid, he didn’t fit any of the standards of children his age according to his database, well, at least not his caretaker database. But it was something more, some deeper knowledge like something buried deep in his core. His investigative program was raising up some warnings, but they were in the background and quickly dismissed by a strange code he hadn’t seen before.

He headed to the wardrobe and found a lot of black slacks and white shirts. It looked like a uniform. There were some socks and undergarments in a drawer, some pajamas, coats and sweaters, all in greys, whites and blacks. The only color in here was some blue sweaters that were too warm to wear at this time of year. What a dull attire for a 6-year-old. He picked up some pants, underwear and shirt. He placed them on the bed just in time for Connor to come out looking just as sleepy as before. He gently helped the kid change and then combed his hair. His little curls gave him a really soft and childish look, it didn’t go along with his careful pose and fearful eyes. Hank finished placing the shoes on his tiny feet and helped him hop off the bed.

“All set! Ready to do some reading?” His fake-cheery voice sounded ridiculous even in his ears. As expected, Connor remained quiet and looked up at him. He approached the bed and picked up his plush dog before standing next to Hank. He carefully reached to take the android’s big hand and Hank was quick to hold it. Together, they left towards the boy’s first lesson of the day.

———————————————————————————————————–

Library really was the only word to describe the huge room they were in. Walls covered with printed copies of thousands of books. That was a rarity these days, most books were digital and it was very hard to find a printed copy of anything. There were cozy looking couches against the walls and a fireplace in the corner. A table with some open books and sheets of paper where on top of the table in the middle of the room. Amanda was sitting in one of the chairs, facing the door.

“Go begin the breakfast, Hendrik. Come Connor, let’s begin.” She regarded the boy as he walked up the table, head down and back straight. He placed his plush in the chair and sat next to it.

Hank left the room and went to prepare the food.

Every interaction he saw between Connor and Amanda was even stranger than the last. The woman obviously cared about the kid’s education, if the sheer amount of classes was anything to go by, but she didn’t seem to care for anything else. Hank couldn’t avoid but to be wary of that, he had been programed with the purpose to investigate and aid the police force, and that involved all types of cases, some including children. He didn’t have the memories of his time as a police android, but his database was all there. Pair that with the new programs and all of these mother-son interactions were enough to raise some warnings.

What also worried him was the fact that Connor hadn’t talked at all, not even a word. He wondered if the child was non-verbal and that’s why Amanda chose to have him be home-schooled instead of going to the same school as his brother. He started putting all the information he had gathered so far and see if his program might bring any sort of warnings of the treatment of the woman to Connor.

>>Gather more data to form conclusion.

Yeah, of course. He hadn’t seen anything that might raise a red flag. Yet.

Hank shook his head. The strange code was back and all his thoughts on the matter disappeared. He reached the kitchen and grabbed the tablet that had the menu of the week.

The food this woman wanted him to make was just as plain and boring as everything else in this house. Jesus, this kid ate the same food old people were getting at a hospital. Plain oatmeal. No milk or sugar, just water and oatmeal. Some barley crackers and a glass of water. This ain’t right. Hank looked again, trying to see if maybe she had a separate menu for Connor, something a little more flavorful than this. But no, that was it. All of the meals on the menu was the same, the occasional fruit was thrown here and there, but that’s about it. This is ridiculous, the kid gets no sleep and now he gets no food. What is his woman’s deal? His processor was going crazy, trying to make sense of what was happening. Something inside him was telling him things in this place were seriously fucked up. Then, his vision went back and he froze.

It was only a second, not enough for anyone to notice but himself. Something seemed to jolt him out of that train of thought and he suffered a quick reboot. His eye components came back online and he found himself looking at a tablet in his hands. What was he doing again? Ah, breakfast, right. Better get that done.

Without another thought, Hank began the task of preparing the food. His movements were precise, calculated. He was done in no time and started to clean up and get the table ready. Just as he was placing the water at the table, Amanda and Connor entered the kitchen.

Amanda moved fluidly as she sat at the head of the table and grabbed the little honey container and sweetened her food. She was wearing a similar white outfit with some green fabric over one shoulder that Hank didn’t know the name of and didn’t bother looking it up. Then he turned his sight to Connor and his processor seemed to stop.

The boy was standing near the door; it was clear he had been crying. His little arms were holding his dog close to his chest and he was trembling slightly.

“Connor.” Amanda’s voice was sharp and cold, not even caring her son was crying in the doorway. “I do not have all day for you to stand there like an imbecile. Eat, I won’t have you be late to your first lesson.”

Tears ran down his flushed cheeks as he walked to the table. He sat down and placed his plush in his lap, but made no move to start eating. One tiny hand raised and grabbed is ear, he was trying to calm down, to stop crying, and the look of this little boy, silently crying and obviously distressed in the middle of a cold dining room did something to Hank’s thirium pump.

He tried approaching the crying child, only for a pointed look from Amanda to stop him.

“Stop this ridiculous behavior this instant! You will eat your breakfast and freshen up to be ready for class, or the consequences will be severe. Have I made myself clear, Connor?”

The child nodded quickly, struggling to control his breathing and took the spoon with a shaky hand. He began to eat, still highly upset about whatever happened before breakfast but scared of his mother’s threat. Amanda resumed eating, and the only sound that could be heard was the cling of spoons against plates and the distressed breathing of the little boy.

Connor lifted his head and spared a quick glance at Hank, and when the android could finally see his face clearly, he felt his thirium freeze. One of Connor’s cheeks was redder than the other, slightly swollen and irritated. There was no way that could happen from crying, it looked as if the boy had been slapped. Hard.

“Don’t you have other chores, Rk400?” Amanda was looking at him with eyes that dared him to say something.

“Of course, ma’am. I will continue. Enjoy your breakfast.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth but his body was already moving to comply with his tasks.

———————————————————————————————————–

The rest of the morning went by, Hank took care of the house and discovered that the detective part of him had a word or two to say about chores, none of them good. Connor never left the room where he had his classes. Apparently, the kid had his lessons in a small office-like room near the library. He met with his tutors online and didn’t leave the room at all. Hank doubted the kid new other children, with the way his schedule was. It was strange that Connor didn’t take any sort of breaks or snack times, especially since kids his age didn’t have a big attention span, but as he had learned until now, Connor was a different boy.

Lunch was just a plain soup thing that had probably no taste at all and he had to serve it when Amanda came home after work. She arrived a little after midday, looking just as prim and proper as ever. She glanced at the android in the kitchen and went to fetch Connor. They took way longer than was necessary, considering the kid should be done with class already, but when they returned Hank expected the kid to be in the same state as he was this morning. Oh, how wrong he was.

His cheek was still red and puffy, it stood out even more considering the kid’s face was completely pale. Probably starving Hank hoped assumed. His little hand was clinging to his ear again while the other held his plush close. He looked upset, but Hank was coming to think this was a constant for the boy. He looked like a prisoner walking to his death. For once, he wasn’t looking down, but his eyes were looking straight ahead but not really looking at anything.

Hank’s program told him that some crazy shit was about to happen. He felt something like dread go through him. He could see some software instability warnings out of the corner of his eye, but he pushed them away. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it. Something in the back of his processor was screaming at him, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

Connor sat down, placing his dog between the chair and his back and went back to grabbing his ear. Nobody moved until Amanda picked up her spoon and began eating. The boy didn’t move, just staring at his soup with the same terrified yet resigned look on his face. Amanda gave the boy a sharp look and he flinched, letting his ear go and grabbing the spoon. He began eating mechanically.

Hank knew the woman was going to dismiss him, so he left towards the kitchen to clean up and adjusted his hearing processors so he could listen what was going on. For a long time, all he could hear were the sounds of plates and spoons making contact. Maybe he had overreacted. Maybe Connor was just hungry and tired.

“So, Connor. I talked to your teachers.” Hank had never heard the woman so displeased before. Maybe he was just full of shit.

“It looks like you are doing an adequate job in most classes. Not that anything less was expected of you, obviously. You clearly need more time studying, adequate is not acceptable like I have already told you but you seemed to keep forgetting.”

Connor’s breath hitched a little. It was the only reaction the boy had and the silence returned for a little.

“Ms. Clark, your history teacher, had some interesting comments today. She seems to think you are doing good in her class. However, there was a little, shall we say, inconvenient today. Care to tell me what happened, Connor?”

Hank could see a little of the dining room from the kitchen, just enough to see Connor’s hand drop the spoon and grab his ear again. Amanda continue eating, as if nothing was wrong. The boy didn’t say anything, but Hank could see him opening and closing his mouth, trying to form words through the panic he was in. Small sounds came out of the boy, but Amanda continued like he had answered her.

“You were sleeping in class. Sleeping, Connor. I do not know how you can pay attention if you are asleep, but I doubt you have that capacity.” The hell. It’s obvious the kid was gonna fall asleep, he was exhausted! Can’t she see that? Hank couldn’t understand how someone could be so blind as to not see this little boy being beyond tired. His schedule was too full; the pressure was simply stupid to place in someone so young! But she didn’t stop.

“I don’t think you understand the amount of time and resources you make me spend on your education. But to waste another one’s time on top of it? Was it not enough for you to already affect your brother’s progress so much that now you have to waste a teacher’s time as well?” Connor’s breath hitched, he looked like he was about to start crying and was trying his best to remain quiet.

“Or is that your objective, hum? Do you wish to hinder your brother’s progress? Is that why your performance is constantly disappointing? Are you actively holding your brother back?” Connor was shaking his head madly. He couldn’t hold his tears anymore and were now running down his cheeks.

The silence that followed was thick with the panic the little boy was in. He looked in the midst of a panic attack, rocking back and forth in his chair while never letting go of his ear. Hank was beyond worried, a 6-year-old was about to have a panic attack and his mother was just sitting there, berating him. The fuck is wrong with this bitch! Hank was about to go in there, do something, fuck he was ready to grab the child and calm him down before he had a massive breakdown. This is ridiculous, this qualifies as mental abuse, I don’t give a fuck.

>>DO NOT INTERVENE

A red wall showed in his vision showing that order she had given him the other day, he raised a fist to smash that shit to pieces. Before he could make contact with anything, Hank’s ear processors filled with static, it was so loud he could feel it damaging them. He couldn’t move, he was frozen in place and then. Nothing. All his processors went offline and he was left where he was standing.

A reboot started a few seconds later. The android could feel his senses coming back online. Finally, his eyes and ears components activated and he could see Amanda and Connor had finished eating. He didn’t know why the reboot had happened, this glitch was weird. He hoped he didn’t have to go back to Cyberlife so soon after being fixed.

Dismissing that thought, Hank moved to stand near the table and await further instructions.

“Come, Connor. I will help you with your homework this afternoon. You will have some garden time later.”

Amanda got up and started walking. Connor didn’t look very happy on the prospect of having his mother help him with his work, but he got up and grabbed his plush anyway. He quickly glanced at the android with careful eyes. Hank gave the kid a little smile but got no reaction as Connor turned and went after his mother.

Part of the afternoon went by in the same way. Amanda left at one point, probably went back to work while Hank took care of the cleaning. He was done with everything inside and the only thing he had left to do before dinner was the garden. His instructions told him not to come close to the rose wall in the middle of the garden, so he went to a little corner near the porch surrounded by flowers and some shade and started to work there. No more than 5 minutes had passed when he heard the door gently open and close and footsteps approach him. Amanda was gone, and judging by the sound of the steps, Connor had come to have some ‘outside time’ like his schedule said. Hank turned and saw as the kid warily made his way to the android and sat in the porch near where he was tending to the flowers.

“Hey, there kiddo. Come to play in the garden for a while?” Connor just stared at him. He was holding his faithful stuffed companion and a large book on the other hand. Was-was he going to read in the garden? Hadn’t he been reading the entire day? He had some games he could play with the kid, they were all here in his database, but he couldn’t do much with how his relationship with the boy was at the moment.

He decided to try a different approach. Looking at the plush, Hank tried to put the most mock-serious voice he could and began a conversation.

“Hello there, Mister Dog. How are ya today?” While talking to the toy, he continued working on the flowers. Connor hadn’t said anything, but his eyes held a little interest now.

“Hmm, yeah. Weather’s nice today, right? You must be happy to be outside for a while.” Hank made some pauses where the plush supposedly the plush was ‘answering’ him.

“Me? I’m just doin’ some gardening. You know, planting things and stuff like that.”

Connor moved a little closer, clearly interested in the conversation he was having with his stuffed friend.

“Plant candy? Well I don’t know, Mr. Dog. I guess we could try to plant some chocolate and see if we can grow a chocolate tree, what do ya think? Think Connor might like that?”

Hank turned to look at the kid and dog with a face of mock-surprise. He gasped a little and said “A jelly bean tree? Yeah, we could plant a jelly bean and grow a huge tree. Then we would live there and eat candy all day. Sounds like a blast if you ask me.”

A little giggle came out of Connor hearing the ridiculous voice he was putting. Bingo.

“Oh, Connor! There you are kiddo. Was beginning to think the cat got your tongue.” Connor did a little head tilt to the side, God this kid was a puppy in another life. Then he poked his tongue out as to check if it was still there. Hank chuckled and came to sit near the kid.

“What you got there?” He asked pointing to the big book the kid was carrying. It looked like those big old picture encyclopedia type things.

Connor perked a little and placed his dog between himself and the android. Exited hands grabbed the book and showed the android what it was. It was indeed a picture encyclopedia. The language was far too complex to be a kid edition but Connor didn’t seem deterred. He eagerly opened it showing Hank all the different pictures it had. It was full of fishes and sea life creatures. Connor stopped at a page, a big pictured of a Dwarf gourami along with some basic facts on the species were on display. The kid looked up at Hank, a small smile in his face while looking at the picture of the fish.

“You like fish?” He was asking an obvious questions, he knew that. But maybe this would get the kid to talk to him a little. Connor nodded his head excitedly.

“Are they your favorite animal?” The boy thought for a little before shaking his head. He was about to ask another thing when Connor picked his plush up and showed him to Hank.

“Yeah, dogs are the best. I like them, too.” A little glitch came in his vision, but he shook his head and it went away.

Connor was looking at him again with a strange expression on his face. He got up and headed to the door to go back inside. Damn. Well, that was progress, at least he wasn’t so wary of Hank anymore. He got the kid to giggle, so that felt like a success in his book.

Hank headed to finish working on the stupid flowers when he heard Connor approach him again. He stood right in front of the android and without a word thrusted a photo in the android’s hands and ran back inside. He had no idea what just happened but once he looked at the photo his thirium pump seemed to skip a beat.

It was a photo in one of those little digital picture frames. He could see himself in the middle of the picture. It looked like it was taken in a park. Connor was clinging to his neck with one arm at his right. The dog plush in hand and a big smile on his face. Hank smiled a little, the kid looked genuinely happy for once. At his left was another child. Hugging him in a similar fashion Connor was. The kid was a cardboard copy of Connor only with icy blue eyes. He looked older than Connor, that was obvious, but his scans showed the kid to be 8 years old. It looked like this kid had gotten all the size Connor didn’t. He was tall, but had an equally big smile on his face and looked like he was taking the selfie. Hank couldn’t erase the smile of his face. They all looked so happy, and he couldn’t remember any of this. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a little notification

>>Connor Stern: Warm.

[ezmodo]

Dancing for Dunces

Surveying the room from her seat, Weiss was genuinely impressed with Atlas Academy’s school dance. The hall was spacious, the music tasteful, the food and drink more refined than she expected from a military school. Even the decorations were adequate, lack of doilies notwithstanding. There was one glaring issue, however.

“I’m going to kill that dolt.”

“Which dolt is that, Weiss?” Yang asked from across the table, her knowing grin adding to Weiss’ mounting frustrations.

“Her. Him. Them!” she fumed, angrily whipping her hand towards the two sources of her irritation.

On the far side of the room stood Ruby Rose and Jaune Arc, hiding behind the punchbowl.

---

Weiss didn’t think her friends appreciated just how much work went into setting this up for them. She didn’t organize the academy’s social, no, but she did everything else in her power to make the night memorable for her team, some of which required some uncomfortable visits home. Her team didn’t have clothes suitable for a dance and she wasn’t about to let them wear borrowed formal military uniforms for the occasion. But with thankfully just one promised appearance at a future function of her father’s choosing, Weiss had access to the Schnee wardrobe and, most importantly of all, Klein.

She gave Yang and Blake free rein and naturally they went for matching ensembles. Yang chose a surprisingly modest black gown that went down past her knee while Blake chose a rather risqué halter dress, a stunning yellow piece that showed more than Weiss wanted to see from her teammate outside of a changing room. Yang certainly appreciated it though, loud and often. Weiss was happy for her friends, she really was, but couldn’t they show some restraint? Ruby’s mock gagging every time they started up mirrored Weiss’ thoughts on the matter. No one wanted to see their family acting like that. Just imagining Winter in such a scenario was enough to cause the bile to rise to the back of her throat.

For Ruby, Weiss had to take direct control. Left to her own devices, Ruby would have shown up in her hood and combat boots. Or, more likely, not shown up at all and stayed in her room to play video games instead. Which wasn’t an option, naturally. Ruby would have a magical evening even if Weiss had to drag her kicking and screaming into it.

Weiss chose for her a simple off-the-shoulder dress, a deep red to match her hair. The bodice had a tasteful bustline and the skirt was suitably “poofy”, to use Ruby’s vernacular, for her partner’s tastes. A silver hairpin kept her hair neat and out of her eyes. Weiss had wanted to include a stole as well for Ruby to wrap about her shoulders, to round out the look and provide her partner with the bit of comfort that she knew losing her hood would cost her, but Nora had fought her on it. Let those puppies breathe, Nora had argued. Weiss was scandalized, but Nora insisted she just meant her shoulders.

New knowledge of Jaune’s possible...proclivities made Weiss consider adding a heavy winter coat to all of her outfits.

She left Jaune himself in the care of his teammates and Klein. Nora aside, she could trust the two men to smooth out the rough edges of the moronic knight into something presentable. She had only two instructions for them. One – do something, anything, with that disaster he called hair; and two – pin a red rose to his breast. They had settled on a simple tuxedo and bowtie, the only color coming from the lovely red rose standing out proudly on his chest.

As she watched Ruby and Jaune gawk at each other when they first met before the dance, Weiss just knew the night was going to be a rousing success.

---

This is an unmitigated disaster… Weiss thought sourly as she watched her partner take a drink from the same empty glass for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

The night had started so promisingly. She was initially worried that they’d be too flustered to talk, too dazzled by her and Klein’s perfect makeovers, but a timely joke from Yang snapped Ruby and Jaune out of their respective stupors long enough to bring back their usual dynamic. The group made their way to the hall and quickly secured a table and the two dunces actually tried to sit separately before she and Nora boxed them in. Was Jaune too stunned by Ruby’s elegant beauty? Was Ruby put off kilter by Jaune managing to look almost halfway dashing? A dinner full of quick peeks and long sideways stares confirmed the theory in Weiss’ mind.

As soon as dinner was cleared away Nora leapt to her feet, grabbed both Ren and Oscar by the collars, and dragged them away shouting that “this was happening”. Yang and Blake followed, telling the remaining three that they’d save them a spot on the dance floor.

This was it. Jaune would offer a hand to Ruby, which she’d accept demurely, and off they’d go to share a magical evening that they both thoroughly deserved. At least until Jaune mumbled something about dancing “requiring proper hydration” as he fled from the table. Ruby was quick to follow, offering her own squeaky excuse before stumbling along after him, faster than Weiss had ever seen the girl move in heels. They’d been at the punchbowl ever since.

Face in her hands, Weiss finally realized the fatal flaw in her plan. She wasn’t dealing with normal, sane people. She was dealing with Ruby Rose and Jaune Arc, the two biggest dorks to ever come out of Beacon Academy. Weiss had so graciously presented them with the best night of their lives, so easy to grasp that they could practically fall into it, and they had made it awkward.

They’d even spoiled the hard work she and Klein put into their appearance. Ruby had taken the hairpin out at some point and now half her face was hidden behind her red fringe. Jaune’s own hair had transformed back into its usual messy mop from the boy constantly running his hand through it while his bowtie hung loose and crooked from constant tugging.

“Why are they being so difficult?” Weiss groused, glaring at the pair across the room. “You’re at a dance. Dance.”

“Chill out, kettle,” Yang joked, earning an icy glare from the heiress.

Yang laughed uneasily before adding, “You know Ruby’s not into stuff like that, right? Maybe she doesn’t want to dance.”

“Nonsense,” Weiss scoffed. “Every girl wants to dance with the person they like.”

“They certainly do.”

Blake snuck up behind Yang and ran a hand down the girl’s arm as she joined her partner at the table. Weiss fought the urge to roll her eyes. These two…

Yang grinned dopily at Blake before turning back to Weiss. “What’s the big deal anyway? They’re having fun.”

She’d allow that. Even from across the room she would occasionally hear one of the two laughing, Jaune with his heaving guffaws and Ruby with her high pitched cackling. They’d occasionally bump hips or elbows with each other, starting an impromptu “fight” that would end with them standing just a bit closer than before.

It was cute. It was endearing. It made Weiss grind her teeth in frustration. They were so damned close but neither would take the first step.

“How goes the mission, Ice Queen?”

Nora announced herself loudly, Neon in tow, as they joined the group at the table. Neon sat to Yang’s left while Nora joined Weiss opposite them.

“Where’s Ren?” Blake asked. It was strange to see Nora without the boy, especially on a night like this.

Nora harrumphed as she crossed her arms. “He took over Oscar’s dancing lessons. Apparently I was going to  ‘break him’ and ‘scar him for life,’” punctuating each complaint with air quotes.

Weiss looked back to the dancefloor and sure enough, Oscar and Ren were moving back and forth in a simple waltz. Oscar’s face burned red from embarrassment while Ren, unflappable as always, quietly offered direction as he allowed Oscar to lead him around the floor.

“Mission?” Neon asked, leaning eagerly across the table. “What mission?”

Weiss simply hooked a thumb towards the pair across the hall.

Yang explained. “Weiss wants my sister and Jaune to share a magical evening full of dancing and awkward se-”

Yang just managed to keep her seat as Weiss’ glyph rocked her chair back dangerously.

Neon laughed as she watched the two leaders chatting at the punchbowl. “They both the shy type or what?”

“Shy and awkward and dumb,” Weiss growled.

“Then just give them a little push,” Neon offered with a shrug. “Spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven, recreational dru- I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Neon jumped out of her chair, hands raised defensively as Weiss rose threateningly to her feet.

“I’ve got it!” Nora exclaimed. Jumping to her feet, she dragged both Neon and Yang into an improvised huddle as they whispered.

After a minute of excited conspiring, the three girls all raised their heads in confidence with a unified nod.

“Got any hot friends to do the job?” Yang asked, grinning up at Neon.

“Babe,” Neon said, wrapping an arm around Yang’s shoulder and pulling her into a friendly side hug, “all my friends are hot.”

Yang was oblivious, but Weiss didn’t miss the angry twitch of Blake’s ears.

Luckily, Neon practically hopped away before a cat fight (literally in this case, Weiss supposed) could break out with a happy “leave it to me!” before disappearing into the throng of dancers.

“What are you two scheming?” Weiss asked suspiciously.

“Simple, Weissy. The quickest way to get a huntress to pounce is for another huntress to threaten her prey,” Nora stated matter-of-factly.

Before she could puzzle that one out, Weiss noticed a girl approach their table. Tall with long brown hair, rather ridiculous curves, and a dress that made Blake’s look modest, the girl looked more like a model than a huntress.

“Hey,” she greeted the group. “Neon sent me. Apparently there’s a hunk looking for a dance?”

“Yup! Tall blond dude by the drinks,” Yang said, pointing discreetly towards Jaune. “Can’t miss him.”

The girl nodded and made her way towards the leaders. She stopped briefly, adjusting her dress in ways that showed even more skin, and sashayed her way towards Jaune.

Weiss sputtered. This was their master plan? To have some...some hussy steal the target of her partner’s affections right in front of her? Unacceptable. She made to stand but was grabbed instantly by Nora, who pulled her back to her seat.

“Have some faith, Weiss. You’ll see,” Nora said with a pat on her back.

She watched the seductress approach the table where Ruby had just told some joke that had Jaune wiping a tear from his eye. The girl centered herself, cocked her hip, and made a show of clearing her throat. The leaders looked to their new arrival and simultaneously froze, probably when the harpy asked him for a dance. Weiss’ hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palm as she watched some stranger break her best friend’s heart.

Until Jaune’s head suddenly snapped to Ruby, surprise evident on his face even from a distance. His gaze slowly shifted down and that’s when Weiss noticed – Ruby’s hand had found his. Ruby offered some hurried excuse and promptly started dragging Jaune after her out towards the dancefloor. The brunette sent to steal Jaune turned towards their table with a thumbs up raised high which both Yang and Nora returned with gusto.

I can’t believe that actually worked, Weiss thought as her eyes followed the pair squeezing by other couples out on the floor.

“All’s well that ends well,” Nora chirped happily. “‘Bout time I go find my man.”

“Ayup. Sis won’t let anyone take her sweets.” Yang stood, offering a hand to Blake. “Up for another dance, kitten?”

Blake rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her blush as she took her partner’s hand.

Weiss stood as well, straightening out her dress. I suppose I should get a dance in as well. Maybe Nora will let me borrow Ren for a song…

She turned towards the dancefloor and froze when she saw Ruby pinching her nose.

Did that idiot Jaune seriously…?

A goofy grin broke out on Ruby’s face as she raised her free hand and pantomimed sinking to the floor, wiggling all the way.

“The swim huh? Talk about a blast from the past,” Yang laughed.

Jaune looked like he was trying to knee himself in the chest as he ran in place.

“Ooo! Count me in!” Nora shouted, brushing past Weiss on her way to the dancefloor.

Weiss buried her face in her hands and let out a long suffering sigh.

Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.

This wasn’t romantic. This wasn’t magical. This was tomfoolery.

Dragging her hands down her face, Weiss finally noticed her partner smiling at her. With an exaggerated wave, Ruby beckoned her to join them.

They were her idiots at least.

[newx-menfan]

Civilian Wear: Julian goes through some pretty drastic fashion changes over time.

1. As you probably know, I really dislike Julian’s weird phase of wearing clothing three times too big for his body-especially sweaters, in New Mutants Vol.2 and have repeatedly joked about this. While everyone has questionable fashion choices when they’re fourteen/fifteen years old, this one still makes me laugh every time I see it. I always kind of wonder if Julian WAS subconsciously insecure about his muscle mass or if he really just had this bad a taste in clothes…because it’s bad. As bad as this series is in general for fashion; Julian’s kind of at the top of the list in this book, next to Santos weird hip hop look (I will get to that eventually) and Josh’s horrible flesh colored goatee….

2. Julian’s clothing tends to be very preppy in New X-Men Academy X. His style was obviously based off of ‘American Eagle’, ‘Pac Sun’, and ‘Hollister’- really popular brands at that time. He especially tends to prefer lighter colors and fitted tee-shirts and pants. I’m going to be honest, I kind of wish they had taken the preppy look to 100 with Julian; if you’re going to make Julian the stereotypical ‘rich kid semi-bully’, why not go full out with his outfits. I would have loved to see Julian in more pastels, button downs, Oxford coats, loafers, trousers, sweaters, ect. (Examples I’d use are Toru Oikawa from Haikyuu!, James Spader’s character in ‘Pretty in Pink’, Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter, Chuck Bass in Gossip Girl, ect…) Julian at this time period is A) very vain and B) very money and appearance orientated. While it DOES make sense that he’d buy into the ‘brand’ trend of ‘Hollister’and other stores; more than likely I see him being more about top tier brands such as ‘Ferragamo’ or ‘Tom Ford’. Maybe this is the difference between New York and California wealth, but I feel like Julian would be more about the luxury and see ’American Eagle’ as too common. Julian’s preppy look while not as used, still pops up now and again-an example of this is the swim trunks Clay Mann drew him in in X-Men.

3. Julian’s look slowly changes in Kyle and Yost’s New X-Men; while initially continuing his preppy look it slowly starts to change. While described by Iceman/Bobby Drake as ‘mall goth’ in Phoenix Resurrection, I’d argue Julian’s look is more grunge based. He slowly tends to wear darker colors, mainly black tee shirts and jeans, hoodies, or a leather coat. This change works; as more trauma happens it does make sense that Julian would shed a lighter and brighter fashion to something darker and a reflection of the state his life is currently in. Also grunge really started at thrift stores by teenagers and adults with limited funds; this again makes sense for Julian who has been at this time period cut off from his parents and will eventually be completely abandoned by them. It also makes sense why Julian grows his hair out, because he may not be able to afford regular haircuts. It also makes sense because he slowly starts hanging out with Laura, whose fashion sense may be rubbing off on him a bit as well. This also does play into Julian later losing his hands and possibly representing some insecurities about his own desirability. It’s a lot easier to say ‘I don’t care what people think’, than admit that you’re using a style to hide certain fears about your own body. I do think it’s telling HOW MUCH his style changes from very form fitting to going back to baggy (much like he had in New Mutants Vol.2) especially after losing his hands. It also opens the question to how much of Julian’s ego could be a coping mechanism to hide insecurities… I know a lot of fans HATE Julian with long hair; I’m personally okay with it depending on the artist. I think it does showcase how much Julian had changed as a character and plays into Julian’s ‘bad boy/Rebel’ image. While I do sometimes debate whether Julian would truly be capable of being this level of grunge because of his vanity; I do actually think the character he grew into for the most part does make sense with this look.

BEST LOOK: My all time favorite Julian look is hands down the James Dean-esque jeans, white tee-shirt, and leather jacket drawn by Sana Takeda in the X-23 solo. While simple, it’s nicely fitted and incorporates the grunge style Julian has had in other books but in a more subtle way. Sometimes you just can’t go wrong with jeans and a tee-shirt paired with a really nice leather jacket!

WORST LOOK: the Quentin Quire sweater. While I can envision Julian being attracted to Mutant Propaganda and utilizing it; I have trouble imagining him taking fashion cues from Quire. Quentin and Julian have two VERY different belief systems; Marvel using them interchangeably is very wrong in my opinion.

WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO SEE: There’s plenty of fashion routes future artists could take with Julian’s look. I do think artists could keep the grunge look Julian currently has; maybe even incorporate elements of punk, fetish, or goth into his look. I would like to see Julian in plaid, leather, denim jackets, band Tee shirts, tank tops, combat boots, tennis shoes, ect… I especially think artists could do some fun things with his hellish codename by incorporating crosses, cuffs, padlocks, and other jewelry. I actually really liked how Julian had some scruff in the animated show ‘Wolverine and the X-Men’, and kind of want to see him either be drawn with a five o'clock shadow or grow a small beard in the comics. I especially think it would be an interesting look with his chin to shoulder length hair, slightly curled. I think Julian with a shaved head could also be an interesting starker, more masculine look or going with a undercut style. I think Julian having tattoos could be interesting depending on what they were. I think artists could also go with a gym rat look for him by putting him more in sweat pants, hoodies, basketball shorts, base ball caps, ect… We’ve also seen Julian wearing sports apparel before and playing different sports. I would enjoy seeing Julian in a more Dandy type style, especially as he gets older. I have always pictured Julian becoming more like Emma as he grew up; a commentary on how we all turn into our parents a bit into adulthood. I also think Julian fully embracing his vanity and more materialistic side could be interesting to see. Using different fabrics like fur, leather, linen, silk, seersucker, ect; with classic pieces such as three piece suits, sweaters, coats, scarfs, oxfords, button downs, riding boots, pocket squares ect… to create a very vibrant yet classy wardrobe. I was always disappointed by how safe artists went with his preppier look Academy X, plus I really enjoy the stark contrast it would have with Laura’s darker goth look; if they ever got back together.

For a new uniform for Julian- I would love a design similar to his DnD ‘Bromo Superior’ design. I also often times see redesigns with Julian showing his bare chest with oversleeves; instead I’d really love to see an artist use lace actually in a design for Julian. I think it would be really unique and a stark difference from other X-Men uniforms. I think it would add regalness and elegance, especially with a cape; while also having a subtle revealingness to it. Another design prospect would be having Julian in a simple black bodysuit with a front zipper accessorized with jewelry and small details to it. OR I’d like to see artists do another design again incorporating a brown, red, or black leather jacket, and simple bodysuit (similar to his original in Academy X).

I think artists can definitely take Julian’s future look in a softer or harder way, depending on character development and motivation.

Next week we’ll be looking at the BEST and WORST Looks of Mercury-Cessily Kincaid!

[silaskang]

who is silas kang and why should he never be given a bag of microwavable rice again?

Not everyone can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but  [ SILAS KANG ], a [ 34 ] year-old [ MALE ] has lived in [ BROOKLYN, BUSHWICK ] for [ SEVEN MONTHS ]. This is the city of dreams and [ HE ] knows it, because they came to NYC to be a [ COOK ]. Well, that and as an [ EMPLOYEE ] to [ BEA TORRES ]. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like [ STEVEN YEUN ]. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it!

BASIC INFORMATION:

Full Name: Silas Seo-Won Kang

Nickname/s and Alias/es: Sil (pronounced sih-l)

Age: 33

Date of Birth: January 18

Hometown: Grove, Delaware County, Oklahoma

Current Residence: Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York City, New York

Gender: Cisgender Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Asexual Aromantic

Ethnicity: Korean

Nationality: American

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

General Appearance: Silas knows of the importance one’s first impression can have, having wordlessly understood social customs and codes at quite a young age–perhaps too young, but it’s far too late to be bothered about all that–and such can be seen in how he presents himself. His wardrobe is composed of darker, muted tones between the line of business and casual, always dry cleaned to perfection. His face is a ritually cleaned portrait of sharp cheekbones, pale skin, and dark eyes crinkled into a smile of some form, whether it be remorseful or rejoicing. His hair, never lightening from a jet black, is well-groomed and most often parted to the right. His glasses and short facial hair come and go at irregular intervals, but are always as taken care of as himself. His slight eye bags may hint towards the facade falling in New York City nightlife, however.

Height: 5’7

Items of Note: Wears a simple gold bangle around his right wrist.

PERSONALITY:

General Personality: In a word, Silas is subtle. Subtly charismatic, subtly strategizing his every move in New York City, very subtly failing in both areas; neither electrocuting all he approaches with eclectic extroversion nor wholly retreating to pursue the path of a reticent recluse, he strikes a balance between boundaries defining thinking and feeling, pragmatism and principles that he tries to make good with. He’s become comfortable with his most common position as a quiet leader put in charge of nothing but necessities of the work, loosening up the cuffs of his culinary uniform to be honest whenever possible. Self-assured rather than arrogant, preferring the predictable rather than shaking up his schedule like the world’s worst cocktail, he’s a politely calm person at best and a blunt apathetic at worst. While he struggles with long-inborn insecurities, he’s far from passive and will firmly assert himself and his abilities if needed. Rational, judging, and possibly a bit too focused on achievements, Silas may not handle all his emotions in the best way possible, but he’s always striving to meet his own goals without hurting others. Intentionally, that is. He could always just joke about it later, right?

BACKSTORY: 

[content warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, and bullying]

Born as a second-generation immigrant and the younger of two boys, Kang Seo-Won was lauded by every peripheral Asian auntie in the state for the supposed deed of saving his parents’ marriage. Indeed, the union of Kang Seung-Ho and Han Mi-Jung was akin to a very large dinner wherein the chef got progressively more tempted to sneak a sip or five hundred of the nearest wine bottle. There was no denying the love between them, the spark that had pushed two pairs of parents just waiting to welcome their first grandchild into the world into setting up every meeting for them possible. Considering how boring their area of Oklahoma had gotten (and continues to be, if one was wondering), a few other family friends joined the fray to make sure of the couple’s future together. They had their first son, Si-Won, only a year after their marriage, but Si-Won’s growth to the age of seven was marked by turbulence: the death of Mi-Jung’s sister, the dearth of employers willing to let Seung-Ho work at their establishments, and the dashing security guard at Si-Won’s school who seemed to find any excuse to talk to Mi-Jung. What Seo-Won brought, at least temporarily, was respite. Hope for that future their families had worked so hard for, a future. Their collective faith restored, Mi-Jung and Seung-Ho decided to get Seo-Won baptized, opting to keep his original name in the middle and letting him be known by his baptismal name from then on. Si-Won followed suit, becoming Simon Kang.

The Kang family dynamic was familiar, almost nuclear had it not been for both sets of grandparents being protective enough to insert themselves within the household. Though they shared fond moments, non-rehearsed family photographs were few and far between, and Silas could point how their grins never quite reached their eyes in every single one all these years later. His feelings about his parents have complicated over the course of decades spent with and without their presence, but a general sentiment of desuetude had been made to their love with each other by the time graduation came about. It just took a while for him to recognize it, he figures, and such was to be blamed unto his brother. Simon Kang had a handful of hobbies, in Silas’s humble opinion, and all of them were in some way going to end in torment towards his younger sibling. He had his fair share of involvement in the vitriol, that was definite, and they were too far gone in their rivalry to reconcile by the time Simon went to work abroad.

Elementary and middle school were blurs, strokes of unremarkable paint fading and washing into one another as report cards passed and birthday parties went by without half an invite his way. Silas was sure he’d made acquaintances at one point or another, just none close enough to leave a mark. It was better than being completely alone, he reassures himself, and it was much better than being socially scarred so early in existence. Besides, he had his grandmother, his halmeoni, and she was enough. Careful to not spoil the boy, they grew close nonetheless as she cooked up delicious dish after miraculous meal. As Simon went on to join a multitude of sports clubs, Silas watched his grandma make masterpieces with ingredients he’d helped buy, developing admiration beyond that he’d ever felt before for her handiwork. All the while, she implanted proverbs of dedication’s value and sacrifice’s worth that Silas wouldn’t trade for anything.

It was his eleventh birthday. For the first time in his life, he’d been tasked and trusted to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Whether it was the sheer laziness of his parents that day or a rite of passage given to all those deemed the sorcerer to a wok’s wand, he was thrilled to oblige. Thrilled and terrified, of course, and it only got worse when Simon came in to reveal what main ingredient he’d be constructing a grand castle of flavor with: microwavable rice. Silas stammered, stuttered, gasped for breath. They didn’t even have a microwave. A day for firsts, he let his mouth remain open a smidgen too long and ended up sent to his room for use of an expletive. He wouldn’t allow that to be the defining moment of his eleventh birthday, not at all! He used his marvelous masculine wiles (see: begging) and got one more opportunity. Armed with annoyance, a heat knob he hoped would work as a microwave, and his grandmother’s moderately concerned support, he rushed to serve the most brilliant bibimbap ever served in the Kang home. He failed in all aspects of the assignment, from the solid, burnt rice to the rawest egg in Oklahoma to the vegetables salted with only tears. However, he wouldn’t let that be the defining mindset of his eleventh birthday, would he? It meant he could only go up from there. It was vacuous, it was vapid, and yet it made sense, even more sense than all the other jobs he’d scribbled haphazardly during career day. He hadn’t found his forte in finger painting, he hadn’t a chance of curating journals in chemistry class, but he could create something that would fill people. For the first time in his life, he was filled with constant purpose. He did his best in all of high school, still falling a bit behind in Science and leagues behind Simon in terms of how many yearbook pictures were taken with a scowl. He vaguely remembers making a few friends, then, though just as many slipped away with not so much as a text when he spent more time at his part-time job than being the apple of the academy’s eye as Simon was previously. He wore the badge of a rotting fruit with pride, when all was said and done, and could only shoo the incidents of insults for his ‘slit eyes’ or ‘dog eating’ away with the sizzle of a pan and the clinking of coins into the tip jar.

The second he was given the opportunity, Silas went to study the culinary arts in Chicago through experience and education. Working at a small restaurant his uncle four-hundred-times-removed-but-somehow-still-related owned, he developed a foolproof system for dealing with stress: not dealing with it at all. Be nice, be good, don’t sob into the soap and sponge, and study hard. He kept up communications with his parents for a while, awkward as they were, for even a hint of conversation with halmeoni. Her speech was deteriorating, they said in a horribly even tone, but she’d lived a good life. When he received news of her death, he was done. Setting the phone down and gathering all his savings earned from a combination of culinary labor and investments, he ran to the place where dreams came true. Then he went to NYC with the mouse ears to prove it.

Having moved to New York City and found a sufficiently welcoming home in the borough of Brooklyn, Silas has all he needs: a rapidly developing social circle, stable employment, and an escape from Delaware County. What he wants? A different story entirely, and one that will have to be told with much precariousness…

TL;DR: Brought up by spite for his brother and his grandmother’s weary hands that always smell like tteokbokki, Silas Kang is trying his best.

[greyskywrites]

Wolf’s Price

[First] [AO3]

II. In the Snow

6.2k

warning for descriptions of violence and mentions of animal death

I woke half-crushed under Todd’s weight, overheated, and with my bladder near bursting. It hadn’t taken me long after I joined Muras and Todd’s household and bed to learn that the fastest way to extricate myself from Todd’s sleeping arms was to shift around until I could put a sharp elbow in his ribs.

Todd woke with a cough and a grunt and rolled off of me, rubbing his ribs. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘sorry’ and turned over, putting his arm over Muras, so that in half an hour Muras could throw him off in pursuit of the same chamber I was on my way to.

I had a headache, and sitting on the seat over the chamber pot I rubbed at my temples, I noticed the smear of red on the inside of my thigh that signaled I was about to spend the next few days in utter misery unless I sent someone to the apothecary.

I spent a little time cleaning up by lamplight, and reemerged to find my nightdress thrown over a chair. I could at least send a maid for what I needed, and then spend the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself.

Todd was awake enough to catch the hem of my nightdress as I passed the bed. “Come back to bed,” he mumbled.

I bent, tugging on his ear. “I’ll bleed on the sheets.”

“The laundrywoman can take care of it,” Todd said, grinning sleepily.

“You’re not even awake,” I said. “I have to send the maid for my tea. I’ll come back after.”

The house was always cool in the mornings, enough to make my skin prickle. I had grown used to its quiet, the creaking boards and austere walls. I had thought that perhaps I might be able to find some small tapestry to hang, or perhaps I could embroider something that reminded me of Saren—but if we were going to Morhall, it didn’t seem that would be necessary.

The maid sent on her mission, I took a cup of lavender tea and went upstairs again. The bed was empty of Muras, and Todd laid on his back, rubbing his face. I sat on the bed and felt his hand on my hip.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked. I knew he didn’t mean my cycle.

I sipped at my tea and looked at the silver morning light peeking around the curtains. “I’ll do what I have to.” I had done what I had to since I was married, done whatever was required to stay alive. Morhall had not broken me before.

It would not break me now.

I put my tea aside and stretched out next to Todd, letting him pull me close. He kissed my forehead and brushed my hair out of my face. He looked softest in the mornings, when he wasn’t yet alert enough to look and act like a mischievous boy. Todd had the kind of face and personality that charmed women from sixteen to sixty, playful and flirtatious. Whatever affection he held for me, whatever flirtations he gave anyone, his heart belonged to Muras, and no one else—which was why I liked him so much. There was no risk of too much attachment.

“If he’d just retire we wouldn’t have to bother with any of this,” Todd muttered. “Could move back to Pardas and grow soft and fat running a winery.”

I laughed a little. Muras would never be able to content himself with vineyards and wine barrels. He needed to feel that what he was doing mattered to king and country.

I put my forehead to Todd’s chest, sighed. “I haven’t seen Saren since the war.”

Todd stroked my hair. “What scares you most?”

I thought, tracing my fingers over his ribs. “That the Saren I remember doesn’t exist, and won’t ever exist again.”

I heard the door shut and shifted to look over Todd’s shoulder. Muras scrubbed his face with one hand and looked at us both. A soft smile pulled across his face, and he went to the wardrobe for his clothes. Todd shifted onto his back, his arm still around my shoulders. “What’re you in such a hurry to get up for?”

“You’d spend your whole life in bed if I didn’t make you get up,” Muras returned. “Are you getting ready to run off with my mistress?”

I put my chin on Todd’s chest. “We were just discussing retiring to Pardas to grow old and fat while swimming in wine.”

“Were you now?” Muras pulled an undershirt over his shoulders. “I wish you well, then.”

“Muras,” Todd said, in a pitch perfect impression of a whining child, “come back to bed.”

“I have a meeting with Major Calash.” Muras ran his fingers through his hair, looking in the wardrobe for his shirt.

“Commanders are allowed to be late,” I said. “Especially ones with your reputation.” I had met Major Calash, and I disliked him. He held command of a Kressosi fort just across the River Lor, and spoke freely about how much he disdained the primitive Sarenn and their superstitions. On the occasion that I was present, he treated me with all the regard one might give a piece of furniture.

Muras laughed softly, and began to pull on his uniform. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I felt the twinge below my navel that signaled I would be in misery by the time the maid returned. “You won’t be gone long, will you?” I asked. Todd was a poor nurse, too convinced that a joke would be enough to lift my spirits when what I really needed was a hot bath and someone to stroke my hair and speak soothingly, which Muras did with attentiveness.

“No,” he said, buttoning his jacket. “Only a few hours.” He stepped to the bed, bending to kiss Todd’s cheek, and then mine. “You can both bear without me that long, I think.”

I let my eyes fall away and did not tell him about the anxieties that plagued me whenever he was too long out of my sight, how I could not sleep on the nights that kept him out until well after dark. I did not fool myself into thinking it was because of my feelings for Muras—it was the terror of what losing him might mean, how I might be set adrift in the world once more. It wasn’t rational, it wasn’t even reasonable—but in my blood I knew that in Morhall, my anxieties would only be worsened, because in Saren there were a great many more things that might take Muras from me than there were in Kressos.

#

It was Julas who gave me the name Lya. He taught it Corvin and Tatton when they were just learning to talk, because it was easier to say than Liana. They all called me that, my brothers, and so often that even our mother began to refer to me by that name.

Only our father never called me Lya. My name, see, comes from the first of our family line. Anarin, we call ourselves. The descendants of Anar.

Anar was born to the woman Liane, on the same night that his father’s prize bitch birthed two black pups. The lord’s hounds were all red, and it was a trait that he cultivated to set his hounds apart, as he bred them to be the fiercest, fastest hounds that might be found in all of Saren. He meant to destroy the pups, as he assumed that someone else’s hound had interbred with his pack, but Liane stopped him. The pups had been born within an hour of their own son. They were meant to be Anar’s hounds.

As a boy, Anar named his pups Iarantan, Irontooth, and Svartkla, Blackclaw. Always they were at Anar’s side, and as they grew, it became evident that Iarantan and Svartkla were no mere hounds. They grew too big, too wild. They howled like wolves.

Anar, too, grew into a giant of a man, towering above even the tallest men in his father’s hall. He was a great hunter, and a greater warrior. The stories say that his hounds fought alongside him, and it could not be said whether they howled for blood, or Anar did.

There are many stories about Anar. About his mother, Liane, there are only two: that of the night Anar was born, and the night Anar died.

Anar became a wealthy man, as heroes in the old stories often do after performing great feats, and he became soft, and complacent. He boasted of his past deeds, but performed no new ones, and he neglected Iarantan and Svartkla. One night after a great feast, which Anar had spent boasting of his feats in battle, neglecting to mention the role his wolf-hounds had played, Anar went to bed drunk, and Iarantan and Svartkla tore him limb from limb, and ate his heart.

It was Liane who discovered them, and Liane who avenged her son. She took Anar’s sword and slew the wolf-hounds. She drained their blood, and gave it to Anar’s two sons to drink. She cut out their hearts, and cooked them for her grandsons to eat. She skinned them, and tanned their hides, and from them made cloaks for Anar’s sons to wear. The sons took the names of their father’s murderous hounds, Iarantan and Svartkla Anarsson, and in time, we the descendants of Anar became Anarin.

It is not just Anar’s blood we have in our veins, father told me, but that of the wolf-hounds, who to this day adorn the Anarin banner: two black hounds on a field of red. We called ourselves Anarins.

We might as justly have called ourselves Vulgasons.

#

The end of spring brought us to Nolsaford, a port city on the River Lor. When I had known Nolsaford, it had been small, hardly more than a fishing town, but now it boasted half a dozen ferry lines across this calm point in the river, and the town had crawled halfway up the hillside, to the Kressosi fort which now overlooked the top.

“Almost makes you miss the fort days, doesn’t it?” Todd asked, winking at Muras.

Muras scoffed, and shook his head. “It’ll be a warm midwinter day in Saren before I miss the fort,” he replied.

We had taken a rivership, a slim, shallow-bellied vessel that the Kressosi favored for inland travel. It had been close quarters, musty smelling and entirely uncomfortable. I was eager to be rid of the ship, if not so enthusiastic about setting foot once more on the Saren side of the Lor.

I took stock of the goods being shipped as we made our way into the town. Bound to leave Saren for far-flung ports were mostly things I recognized: ivory, horns, and hides from creatures like mammoth, woolly rhino, bison, walrus; timber of pine, fir, and cedar which gave off a welcome scent among the general stink of wood smoke and fish; sheep’s wool that was stuffed in bags near bursting; furs from rabbits, weasels, foxes, otters, seals, bears both white and brown, snow lions, and… wolves.

My gaze caught on one wolf pelt in particular, as white as fresh-fallen snow, and perhaps a little larger than the average pelt. I reached out my hand as if to touch it, only just catching myself. What was a fur like that doing here?

The fur trader had caught me staring. Taking me for Kressosi, that was the language he announced himself in. “Taken with it, Madam? Fine pelt, this, slain by a Horta Hasi warrior—”

“The Horta Hasi are not a warrior people,” I said coldly. “And if a man among them were to kill a wolf in self-defense, he would keep the pelt for himself to commemorate his victory.”

The fur trader turned several shades of red, and bowed slightly. “My apologies, Madam. I did not realize—”

“How much for the pelt?” Muras interrupted, having noticed our exchange, and missed my newfound disdain for the man.

The fur trader glanced at me, trying to gauge how successful he might be at swindling us. “An ounce of silver.”

“A quarter of an ounce,” I countered, before Muras could be fool enough to agree to that price. Kressosi are piss-poor bargainers, particularly when they have money.

“Three-quarters,” The fur trader returned. “And that’s a criminally low price for a pelt as fine as this one, as any woman such as yourself ought to know.”

“A half, and I’ll take an otter pelt with it,” I said, and added in Sarenn, “or I tell the Vulgason that you are a cheat and a swindler.”

The fur trader looked sharply at Muras, at his commanders’ uniform, as if trying to decide whether or not he believed me that this, really, was the Vulgason. Perhaps the threat of being accused of cheating a Kressosi commander was enough, because he relented. “Half an ounce,” he agreed, “and a fox pelt.”

“That grey one,” I said, pointing to a promising looking fox fur displayed on his heap.

“Done,” the fur trader said, eager to be paid and rid of me.

I was pleased that my skills hadn’t been weakened by my years in Kressos, and draped the fox fur around Muras’ shoulders as we left. “For that delicate Kressosi constitution,” I teased.

He laughed softly, touching the fur. “You’re pleased with it, I hope?” He nodded at the wolf pelt.

I held it close to my breast, digging my fingers into the coarse fur. “A white wolf pelt is too important to be sold to just anyone,” I said. “I understand that things have changed since the war, but…” White wolf pelts were nearly sacred. In most of Saren, the wolves were grey or black. It was only in the far north that one found the white wolves, and even then, one had to be a very skillful hunter indeed to track them and kill one. How could a trader even think to sell such a pelt to a Kressosi, or any foreigner?

Muras put a hand on my shoulder, steering me to a waiting cart. “Let’s get ourselves to the fort and get warmed up.”

I looked up, and felt comforted to see the rhinos. Horses were rarely a favored beast on this side of the Lor, and I had missed the low grunts and steady plod of cart rhinos. They were smaller than their wild cousins, and much more docile. Herdsmen painted the horns of their woollu rhinos with distinct patterns to distinguish them from other herds, and when a rhino died or was slaughtered, the paint was gently scraped away, and the ivory sold. These rhinos were painted with swirls of yellow and blue, bright against their dull brown hair.

“I wanted to ask you,” Muras said, settling into the seat of the cart beside me, “if you would take command of our preparations to go north.”

“Everything is command, with you,” I said, laughing. “How do you mean?”

“I thought that you would have the most knowledge as to what we might need,” Muras said, looking around at the town as the cart pulled through the mud. “And… I thought it might give you time to see things for yourself.”

I looked down at the pelt in my lap. So much had changed. “First things first,” I said, “I find a reliable elk breeder—and then I get some proper riding skirts.”

“Right, elk,” Muras said, grimacing.

“Horses are too fragile for the journey, you know that.”

“Yes, you’ve made it known many times.” He gave a light tug to my braid, and smiled. “I’ll trust you to find a beast that won’t kill me.”

#

They gave Muras the name Vulgason after Morhall was taken. For the brutality of the taking, I’m told, and a touch of the belief that no one could have bested that winter but the Wolf’s own son.

Corasin was shot through the heart, three times, by the man then called Major Muras Emiran, who hacked off his head and carried it through the palace to show all there that the king was dead. He carried Corasin’s head by the braid, for Sarenn men keep their hair long, as the Kressosi do not. He threw it at the feet of Corasin’s first wife, and asked her where the children were.

So goes the story as it is told by those who were not there.

Muras does not like to speak of it much, but this, he does deny, and ferociously so. He killed Corasin, and did take his head off then, that much is true. The rest, he says, was Alek—for it was under his cousin Alek’s command that Morhall was taken, and it was under Alek’s command that Corasin’s children, and twelve of his wives, were slain.

Of the thirteenth wife, of Liana Anarin, all that Muras knows is that she attempted to flee the castle, and was lost in the snow. Frozen dead, it is assumed, or perhaps fallen prey to wolves or snow lions. He says he never laid eyes on her, but she haunted his dreams, a frozen blue face, icy fingers that wrapped around his heart.

I laid my hand over his heart when he told me. “She’ll haunt you no more,” I said. He tells me the dreams ceased, after that.

#

“I’ve some fine geldings, Miss, if that’s what you’re looking for.” The elkherd beckoned me to the high fence of a corral, gesturing a group of antler-less geldings and cows not deemed suitable for breeding. Some were quite young, not big enough to endure a journey to Morhall with grown men on their backs, as I told the man. I needed fully grown animals, still young, and even tempered because the men I was traveling with were more accustomed to horses.

He chuckled. “You’ve a keen eye, Miss. Should I just let you look, then?”

“I would appreciate it, sir.”

The elkherd walked with me through the corrals, telling me a little about any he saw me pausing at, their lineage and temperament. I selected two fully grown geldings with mild tempers for Muras and Todd, and was left to look for one for myself. The elkherd seemed to grow puzzled as nothing pleased me. I paced from circle to circle, not certain myself what I was looking for, until I laid eyes on him.

A young bull, by himself, trotting restlessly in his pen, bugling as if to raise the gods. I put my hands on the fence, and smiled.

“Oh, not him, Miss,” the elkherd said. “I’ve a mind to shoot that one, as much trouble as he is—never had a more wild beast come out of my herd. Shame, both his sire and his dam are out of good lines.”

As if to demonstrate, the bull spied the young man with the unfortunate task of bringing him hay, and charged the fence at a gallop. The boy threw the hay over and stumbled back as quickly as he could. The bull paced along that section of fence, snorting and shaking his head.

I whistled, long and low, and the bull set his eyes on me. He pranced a bit, stopped to watch me.

I whistled again, and he flicked his ears, curious. I walked slowly round the ring, and the bull watched me all the way, snorting softly. Before the elkherd could stop me, I slipped between the poles of the fence, and was inside with the bull.

“Miss!” the elkherd cried in alarm. “Miss, please get out, before—”

The bull judged me warily, pacing.

I held my hand up, and whistled softly.

Cautiously, the bull approached, and stood just short of my hand. He sniffed the air, taking up my scent, and after a moment, he stepped forward, and allowed me to touch him.

“By the ice,” the elkherd whispered.

“I’ll take this one, sir,” I said, and he did not argue with me.

I had missed the freedom of riding skirts, sitting astride in the saddle. Once I had persuaded my young bull to permit me to put a saddle on him, and then to ride—both of which took some time—I led the two geldings back to the fort, and the view of Nolsaford was much improved, framed by the velvet of my bull’s growing antlers. He would look kingly in the fall, when the velvet was shed.

He trotted through the gates of the fort while shaking his head against the reins, though he yielded when I gave a warning tug.

I heard Todd’s laugh before I saw him. “Of course,” he said, standing on the stoop of a barracks with his hands on his hips. “You would pick the biggest beast for yourself.” He shook his head, and smiled at me. “You look like some kind of wild raider queen.”

I put my hand on my hip, and stuck my tongue out at him. “Where’s Muras?” I asked.

“Oh, deep in conversation with Senior Lieutenant Coren, I’m sure. I left when they started talking about politics.” Todd tried to approach me, and my bull snorted and swung his head, and Todd took a rapid step back.

“Don’t worry,” I said, swinging out of the saddle. “Yours won’t have half the temper of this one.” I caught the reins, and pulled the bull’s head away before he could try to bite me. He made a low grumble, shifting on his hooves impatiently. “I saved this one’s life. He’ll learn to be grateful for it.”

“This from the woman who’s afraid of horses.”

“I don’t like horses, I never said I was afraid of them.” I patted my bull on the shoulder, and looking over his back, I spied someone I hadn’t expected to see in a military fort. She was Sarenn, by her dress, and heavily pregnant. Her pale blond braid hung over her shoulder as she caught the hand of a girl too old to be her own, scolding her fiercely for running off.

“That’ll be the senior lieutenant’s new wife,” Todd said, following my gaze. “He had a Kressosi wife before he was posted here, but she had no interest in leaving behind her social circles for Saren, so she stayed behind. Took a fever and died about a year ago.”

“When did he remarry?” I asked. Kressosi were expected to mourn a spouse for a full year before taking a new spouse, but the woman I saw would have become pregnant no more than a season after her husband had become a widower. And she was so young…

“Oh, he waited the proper time. She was his mistress, before.” Todd shrugged his shoulders. “Brought all his children up north when his wife died, I think she’s been caring for them ever since. Doesn’t speak a word of Kressosi, but the children are picking up Sarenn fast enough to make up for it.”

I wondered if Senior Lieutenant Coren spoke any Sarenn.

“You should talk to her,” Todd said, “I think she’s lonely, but if I spent too much effort trying to befriend her, it might cause problems with her husband.”

I nodded. “I’ll take these to the stables,” I said. “Will you tell Muras I need money to buy you both the proper gear?”

Todd said he would, and I made my way to the stables, keeping a tight grip on the reins. “Hush, now,” I said, when the bull shook his head, and resentfully, he allowed me to walk him and the two geldings inside.

A young soldier who meant to be helpful attempted to take the reins from me, and when the bull bit his arm, I told him he could handle the geldings, and I would manage my own beast.

His pride more seriously wounded than his arm, he left me be, and I led the bull into a high-walled stall where he would not be able to reach any other elk.

He spent half an hour dancing around me before he allowed me to remove the saddle and halter, and I was ever mindful of when he looked like he might kick or bite.

“Hmm,” I said, hanging the gear on the wall. “I ought to call you Bili, for your temper.”

“What’s Bili?”

I looked to find a boy of about twelve hanging from the door of the stall, and he leapt down when the bull charged, snorting and striking his hooves against the door.

“Easy, easy,” I said, coaxing my infuriated bull away from the door with a handful of sweet oats. I made sure the door was well-latched when I stepped out, and looked around to find the boy sitting on a pile of straw, looking suitably wary. “Hello,” I said. “What’s your name?”

The boy stood up, brushing straw from his trousers. “Tiran, Miss,” he said, nodding his head respectfully. “Senior Lieutenant Coren’s my father. You’re Commander Emiran’s woman.”

I cocked my head to the side. “I suppose I am. You may call me Miss Sargis, though.”

“Sorry, Miss,” Tiran said, and looked at me with curiosity. “What’s Bili?”

“Have you seen a Sarenn forge?” I asked.

Tiran nodded.

I gestured him to follow me so that we could get out of the way of the soldiers tending to the stable. “Then you’ve seen the figure carved above every forge.”

“The man and the cattle bull,” Tiran said.

“The woman and the cattle bull,” I corrected. “The goddess Thraldi was born from the heartstone of a mountain struck by lightning, and tamed fire so that folk might make use of it. She travels on the back of her great golden bull, Bili, who she shaped from the summer wildfire.”

“They don’t worship Thraldi in Kressos,” Tiran said.

“You are not in Kressos,” I pointed out. I was amused by the boy, but I had a question for him as well. “Your stepmother is Sarenn, yes?”

Tiran nodded. “She says to call her ima.” It was the word for mother.

“Will you take me to meet your ima?” I asked. “You can introduce us.”

Tiran showed me through the fort, to the modest house that he informed me was his home, where he lived with his father and stepmother and all his brothers and sisters. “Ima!” he called as he brought me through the door, and in clumsy Sarenn, “A woman here to see you!” His pronunciation was good, if his grammar still needed work.

The young woman appeared from what I guessed to be her kitchen, flour on the apron that hung perilously over her swollen middle, and I inclined my head to her. “Mistress Coren,” I said, “May the sun shine on your head. My name is Lya Sargis.”

The woman blinked in surprise, and then she smiled, whipping off her apron and reaching her hands out to me, grasping my fingers. “May your family prosper,” she said, “please, call me Branhild. It’s been so damned long since I could speak to one of my own.”

I laughed, and squeezed her hands. “I will call you Branhild if you call me Lya.”

#

Branhild was nineteen, she told me, pouring me a cup of hot cider as we sat in her kitchen. Her father had been killed by Kressosi soldiers when she was eight, and she had left her rural village for Nolsaford to live with her uncle, so that her mother would not have to feed her. Her uncle’s wife put her to work dyeing thread and fabric, and when she was eleven, the war began.

When the Kressosi came across the river in Nolsaford, she and her aunt had taken all the food they could carry and hid in the hills for weeks. They came back when there were fewer soldiers, which was when they learned that Branhild’s uncle had been killed.

She and her aunt made enough money to get by after the war, but it was hard, and they often went hungry, so when the fort was finished and a new commanding officer took a shine to the sixteen-year-old girl charged with making the dye for new Kressosi uniforms, Branhild leapt at the chance for a more comfortable life. “My aunt has a new apprentice now,” she said, “and my husband sends her enough money that she can make do even when prices are bad.”

Branhild’s smile had a faint sorrow to it. “I don’t see her much, anymore.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s not safe for me to go into town,” Branhild said. “Because they think I’m a traitor and a whore.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Branhild waved a dismissive hand. “They can think what they like. I’m better off now. You haven’t had any trouble?”

“No,” I said, “but I think that’s because no one knows who I am or why I’m here.”

Branhild nodded. “Best not tell them.”

She had gained five children, since the death of Coren’s first wife. She managed well enough, she said, though I didn’t miss the tired half moons under her eyes. “Will the baby be your first?” I asked.

Branhild shook her head. “There was one other, but… he died.” She shrugged her shoulders, in the way of women who have already endured much hardship, and chosen to put it behind them. “This one, I hope, will do better.”

“I will pray that it’s so,” I said, and that made her smile.

“Do you have any children?” she asked.

It took me a moment, to summon the ability to smile. “Yes,” I said softly. “Two sons. But I had to give them up.”

Branhild grasped my hand, and gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

#

For a few days, I was content to spend time in the fort, taking to the saddle once more and persuading Bili that he would greatly benefit from not attempting to trample every person who wasn’t myself. The soldiers talked about me, though not where I could hear. It was Todd, who recounted with great amusement that I had been declared a mad Sarenn witch, to have any mastery over such a wild creature.

“I thought Kressosi didn’t believe in witchcraft,” I said.

“Of course not,” Todd agreed, “but they’re not stupid enough to be unafraid of it.”

I visited Branhild in the afternoons, and asked her questions. Only once did I grow brave enough to say that I had relations in Arborhall, and wonder how they were doing. She told me that Julas was Lord Anarin, now. He had a Kressosi wife, she heard from the rumors (port cities are always full of gossip) but that was all she knew.

There was Tiran, too, who had taken to shadowing me wherever I went. I spoke to him only in Sarenn, and gently corrected his grammar where I could. “You have the chance to understand Saren better than any other Kressosi,” I told him. “Don’t waste it.”

He was a very serious child. It was three days before he came to me, and told me his father wanted to meet me.

I had not met Tomtes Coren directly. I supposed it was not a priority for officers to meet each other’s mistresses, but it was curious to me that he went through his son, rather than Muras.

I understood better when Tiran brought me to his father, and Coren spied me and said, “Ah, so you’re the woman my son’s fallen so in love with.”

Tiran went red-faced and protested, but his father only laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, telling him to go help his stepmother. Coren waited until his son was gone, and looked at me again, in a way that I thought was meant to be friendly. “I understand you’ve befriended my wife.”

I gazed back at him. “I know how lonely it can be,” I said, “to be companion to a Kressosi man.”

That was not the answer he had expected. I sat at a chair in front of his desk, since he had not asked me to sit. “You should consider yourself blessed to have such a curious son,” I said. “Tiran will excel at whatever he chooses to pursue.”

“Yes, he’s quite enchanted with you,” Coren said. “Tells me you named your elk after some sort of… magic bull.”

I smiled thinly. “That’s one thing to call it, I suppose.”

He looked at me much more shrewdly than I had anticipated from a man of his age who had not advanced to a higher rank than ‘senior lieutenant.’ “You seem like a cunning woman, Miss Sargis,” he said. “What are your thoughts on your man’s new post?”

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Men did not usually discuss this sort of thing with women like me. “Prince Andon himself asked him to come.”

“Have you asked yourself why?” Coren poured himself a drink, and made a gesture to offer me one, which I declined. Were he Sarenn, I might have accepted, but this was a test. Kressosi men did not drink alone with women with whom they were not involved. “Why send such an honored man all the way out to Morhall?” he asked. “Godforsaken frigid hellhole that it is.”

I had pondered that, and none of the possible conclusions I had found made me feel at ease. Alek had been honored, too. “All due respect, Senior Lieutenant, but how is it any concern of yours?” I asked.

Coren smiled, shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I’m comfortable where I am. This is as soft a post as one can get, with the forts. I’ve my wife, my children—and I’m not so popular as to draw attention to myself. It should be of concern to you, though.” He raised his glass to me, leaning against his desk. “Your man is popular. Very popular. And now the Heir Apparent personally asks him to get as far away from Kressos as he can? Gives one pause.”

“And what would you suggest I do?”

“Run,” he said simply. “While you still can. It’s what I’d tell my wife to do, if I were suddenly asked by the prince himself to go to Morhall.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I replied frostily. “If that’s all then, Senior Lieutenant—”

He held up a hand. “Of course, don’t let me keep you. And if you see my son, Miss Sargis—I’d thank you to stop telling him Sarenn fairy stories.”

#

I don’t need anyone to tell me how Corasin died.

I was in the room when Muras Emiran killed him.

The only kindness my husband ever did me was to show me where to hide in his chambers, a passage that would take me to the outer walls of the castle. I don’t know if he truly expected me to survive the taking of Morhall, if he thought I was mad enough to make an attempt to escape, or if he simply didn’t want to witness whatever the Kressosi would do when they found me.

What I remember of the first time I laid eyes on Muras Emiran was the splash of blood across his face. His cheeks were flushed, from the cold outside, from whatever blood lust had taken hold of him, I didn’t know.

None of the stories will tell you about the moment of silence between them—the king staring down the young officer who had come to kill him. It felt like centuries to me, watching from the dark. I saw the fear in Corasin’s face, and I saw too how he refused to cower. He must have thought, then, what many Sarenn think when faced with their deaths: when they reached the halls of the dead, they would not allow it to be said that they died a coward.

The first shot struck him just north of the heart, and as Corasin staggered, blood blossomed across his white shirt like the center of a dawnstar flower. The second and third shot, Muras took at a closer range, and the king of Saren’s body thudded to the floor like so much dead meat.

I only fled when I saw the Kressosi officer take the knife from his belt, and drag Corasin’s head up by the hair, and begin to saw.

I was not dressed for the snowstorm I knew awaited me outside. I was in thin red silk, no shoes on my feet, and I knew that to flee Morhall was to die.

It was to die on my own terms. I would not let my family wonder at what horrors I suffered at the hands of Kressosi soldiers.

Plunging out into the snow, fleeing as quickly as I could into the storm, not caring which way I went so long as it took me far away from that place, my tears froze my lashes together, so that I could not see.

It was my fault that this had happened.

Because of me, the king was dead.

Because of me, the children would die.

Because of me, Róana would die.

I tripped, and fell into the snow. I swore I could feel the life draining from me, and I was glad of it. I deserved to die this way: alone, bearing the weight of what I had done, all the blood that was on my hands.

That was when the Wolf found me, and took me away.

[starxshell]

Repost this and fill in your muse’s own information and answer the questions. Tag 8 people to fill it out once you’re done. Feel free to skip certain questions!

TAGGED BY: @oracle-stella //aaa thank you so much! TAGGING: I’m not sure who’s done this or not! If you haven’t and want to, consider yourself tagged!

NAME: Prompto Argentum NAME MEANING: A mistranslation of “quicksilver.” AGE: 20 GENDER: Male ETHNICITY: White NATIONALITY: As far as he’s concerned? Lucian.

WHAT TIME DO THEY USUALLY GET UP IN THE MORNING?: Usually around eight or nine, if he has his way. If Ignis or Gladio are around, though? He gets up when they tell him to, which usually ends up being dawn-ish.

WHAT IS THEIR MORNING ROUTINE?: Have a quick breakfast, brush his teeth, get dressed in sweats, morning run, then a shower and dressing in his clothes for the day. If it’s a lazy day, he might indulge in a bubble bath.

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE THEM TO GET READY IN THE MORNING?: About an hour, give or take. If he needs to rush, though, he can manage in about 20 minutes.

WHAT TIME TO DO THEY USUALLY GO TO BED?: It’s not uncommon for him to stay up past midnight. He doesn’t sleep a lot, but still manages to recharge practically boundless energy. The boys have given up on understanding this natural phenomenon.

DO THEY FALL ASLEEP EASILY? DO THEY STAY ASLEEP EASILY?: He falls asleep fairly easily unless he had a nightmare or is otherwise scared/nervous/anxious. But he’s a light sleeper, and tends to wake up at the slightest provocation.

WHAT POSITION DO THEY SLEEP IN?: He tends to fall asleep curled on his right side. If he’s in the tent or sharing a hotel room with the guys, he’ll usually end up holding onto the nearest (unfortunate) person.

WHAT IS THEIR HANDWRITING LIKE?: It’s a little messy, but not unreadable. He writes quickly.

DO THEY PREFER TYPING THINGS OR WRITING THINGS?: He prefers typing. It’s faster and neater.

WHAT FORM OF ART (I.E. SCULPTURE, EMBROIDERY, PAINTING, ETC) DO THEY LIKE?: Photography, paintings, music, jewelry

ARE THEY AN ARTIST THEMSELVES? WHAT KIND OF ART DO THEY DO?: Photography is the most obvious answer. He also sketches a little, though rarely. And perhaps most surprising, he can sing and play the acoustic guitar. This is something hardly anybody knows about, though, as he is extremely shy about singing in front of anyone.

WHAT ARE SOME OF THEIR FAVORITE BOOKS?: Anything regarding photography, sci-fi, short horror stories

WHAT GENRES OF MOVIES DO THEY LIKE?: Comedies, rom-coms, musicals, cartoons

WHAT MUSIC GENRES DO THEY ENJOY?: Nearly everything. This boy practically needs music playing constantly.

WHAT ARE SOME OF THEIR FAVORITE MUSICAL ACTS?: He, Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis went to a local rock concert when he and Noctis were in high school. The band they saw remains one of his favorites, less because he likes them more than others and more because of the memories of his first concert.

DO THEY PREFER THEIR MUSIC TO SOUND A CERTAIN WAY?: Audible. Joking aside, he likes faster-paced, energetic, dance-y type songs most of the time.

ARE THEY A MUSICIAN THEMSELVES?: Amateur, if you can even call it that. The only way anyone will likely ever hear him is if they catch him off guard.

DO THEY ENJOY MUSIC FROM CERTAIN DECADES? IF SO, WHICH DECADES?: Present, mostly, though he can appreciate a classic tune.

WHAT ARE SOME OF THEIR FAVORITE PIECES OF CLOTHING/OUTFITS IN THEIR WARDROBE? IF NOT APPLICABLE, WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD BE SOME OF THEIR FAVORITE PIECES OF CLOTHING/OUTFITS?: Once he received his official Crownsguard uniform, it became his new favorite outfit. He didn’t particularly need to be told to wear it with pride--he was already proud of it.

HOW MUCH ARE THEY WILLING TO SPEND ON CLOTHES?: He tends to be very thrifty when it comes to buying clothes. He’ll allow himself to splurge on things he’ll get a lot of use out of (shoes, jackets, etc.), but for standard everyday wear, he’ll stick to off-brand clothes and whatever he can scavenge from clearance racks.

WHAT COLORS AND PATTERNS ARE PROMINENT IN THEIR WARDROBE? WHAT COLORS AND PATTERNS DO THEY WEAR THE MOST OFTEN?: He likes solid, darker colors--particularly reds, blues, and greens. After spending more time with Noctis (and getting “royal permission,” so to speak), he found himself starting to incorporate black into his wardrobe more often.

WHAT KIND OF CLOTHES DO THEY LIKE?: He likes comfy, punky-type clothes. That said, he’s also a big fan of comfy, oversized sweaters.

DO THEY WEAR MAKEUP? WHAT TYPE DO THEY WEAR?: He likes how he looks with eyeliner, but is never really brave enough to wear it. He tried foundation to cover his many, many freckles, but felt uncomfortable. If he feels self-conscious, he’ll still use foundation once in a while, but never happily.

DO THEY WEAR/DO YOU ASSOCIATE THEM WITH CLOTHES FROM A CERTAIN DECADE? IF SO, WHICH?: Present.

WHAT FONT/FONTS DO YOU ASSOCIATE WITH THEM?:  Standard, easy-to-read fonts tbh

WHAT COLORS DO YOU ASSOCIATE WITH THEM?: Yellow, blue, black, red

WHAT NATURAL ELEMENTS (GEOGRAPHICAL FEATURES LIKE MOUNTAINS, ANIMALS, SEASONS, LOCATIONS, PLANTS, ETC.) DO YOU ASSOCIATE WITH THEM: Feathers and chocobos, skyscrapers and asphalt, jasmine flowers, blue skies and cirrus clouds, autumn (fallen leaves in particular)