#there's just something charming about shepherd Apollo

[my-name-is-apollo]

Neoclassical sculptures of pastoral Apollo my beloved 💖💖💖

"Pastoral Apollo" by John Flaxman

"Sleeping Apollo" by Benedetto Cacciatori

"Apollo instructing the shepherds" by Charles-Gabriel Sauvage

"Pastoral Apollo" by Joseph Gott

[ask-princessandromeda]

Hey guys this is Kore. today I brought a cheesecake. It's made according to a family recipe. I hope you like it :) I want to tell you something interesting about us demigods - we are born with certain epithets, with certain abilities in our domains of our parents and we are the embodiments of our mortal parents' idea of the gods with whom they had a loving relationship. For example, I was born in the epithets of Apollo Iatromantis, Chrysocomes, Loimios and Helios. Apollo god of prophecy and healing, Apollo with golden hair, Apollo god of plague, Apollo god of the sun. And my mortal dad saw Apollo as a sweet, somewhat eccentric guy who could predict the future, excelled in medicine and knew all diseases and he absolutely worshipped his golden hair. That's why I was born the way I am. As for you, I have a couple of thoughts - Luke is the son of Hermes Dolios, Hermes Pheletes and Hermes Krateros. Hermes, the god of lies and deception, Hermes the god of thieves, robbers and robbers, Hermes the mighty god. Mae Castellan seen Hermes as a charming deceiver and their acquaintance began with a stolen wallet. Chris is the son of Hermes Epimelius, Hermes Oeopolus, Hermes Kharidôtês. Hermes guarding the flock, Hermes the shepherd, Hermes the Giver of Joy. Your mother got together with Hermes on the basis of a common love for animals, Hermes used all his charm and sense of humor. Your mother was constantly smiling and laughing in his company. They took care of the animals together. Silena is the daughter of Aphrodite Areia, Aphrodite Callipygos, Aphrodite Nicephorus, Aphrodite Philommides. Aphrodite is the goddess of war, aphrodite is lush and beautiful, Aphrodite Bringer of Victory, Aphrodite Laughter-Loving. Your father fell in love with Aphrodite, who in his eyes was a strong-willed, determined and at the same time gentle and caring girl. Your father was constantly making her laugh to listen to her beautiful laugh and see her wonderful smile... Silena, you got your smile and laughter from your mom.

postscript, - Ethan, Alabaster, I'm still collecting information about your mothers.

Silena: Thank you for the food and for the information, we’re very grateful for it. *takes a bite from the cheesecake* I knew about the existence of of epithets from my ventures into the Camp Half-Blood archive, but I’ve never managed to find out what mine were. Well, your contribution to that is appreciated. I think they describe me pretty well. These epithets are interesting in a way, they’re both empowering and dehumanizing… just like gods, we’re mere embodiments of certain concepts, personifications of their power. I find that both scary and beautiful in a way. I wonder what the boys think of them?

Luke: Well, as interesting as they are, I don’t take pride in the epithets and powers that I got from my father. I don’t claim them as mine, and frankly I dislike using them. Maybe only against him, I enjoy the irony of that. But I’m not Luke Pheletes. I’m Luke Castellan. Hermes never acted like my father, so why should I act like his son? I don’t want to carry his so-called honor in my last name or in my abilities, because those are mine and mine only. I just wish I could rip myself away from him entirely, but sadly I can’t do that.

Chris: I get what you’re saying… but I perceive it differently. Maybe the epithets are symbols of me and my mother’s experience, and that’s something I can take pride in. It’s not about Hermes, it never was. It’s about my love for animals, the one I share with my mama. It’s about my talent, my humor, my life and how I came to be. I made myself human, and that’s something he can’t take away from me. He didn’t do shit for me, so I don’t want his powers to define me in any way.

Ethan: I… did not know about epithets. I wonder what mine are, and if they would even say something about me. Would I even like them? Do I even deserve to know them before I die? I don’t know… Al, what do you think? What do you know about this?

Alabaster: *straightening his back* Well, I do know the epithets that I inherited from Hecate.

Ethan: You do? You never said anything about them!

Alabaster: You never asked!

Ethan: Fair enough. What are your epithets, Al?

Alabaster: Well, I am the son of Hecate Prothegetis, Hecate Dadouchos and, most importantly, Hecate Amaimaketos. Leader, Torch-bearer, The Raging One. My mother might have perceived Hecate as a guide, a protector, but she was simultaneously a force, a warrior. I must have inherited all these attributes from her, and they really seem to show… They are a part of me. They are unchangeable, and I’ll have to put them to good use.

Ethan: Yeah… Thanks for the message, Kore. Please let me know if you find out anything about my mother.

[OOC: God, this answer gave me so much trouble! The first variant of it was even more complex, but sadly I lost some of the ideas. I hope that what I managed to write is good enough in the end!]

[godsofhumanity]

Alright bro I needed some time to put my Hermes Headcanon together.

When we look at Hermes, we have the mailman and the trickster of the gods (among a bunch of other stuff). He’s the god of messengers, travellers, thieves. He protectes boundaries and shepherds and functions a psychopomp.

So, we’ve got a gods who probably has a bunch of job-related rules imposed on him. Let’s say he doesn’t flat-out disregard them. He would never, he’s good at his job, after all. Yet he does tend to interpert them in the most convenient way. He also helps other people with this process: ‘I am going to give you this message, and but you’ll only get to open it After sunset. Or just, hop into that cave if you’re curious. It’s dark enough in there.’

I’ve heard people say he is a work-aholic. I don’t think he is a work-aholic. I think he more or less does things when he feels like it and at no other times. He just feels like doing things most of the time and so he does.

The thing he takes the most serious is the work of the psychopomp. Partly because he realizes the heavy duty of guiding souls to the afterlife. Partly because he really does like that underworld gossip.

Curious man. Very curious man all around. Will sneak in order to get some of those gossips. He can very much keep his mouth shut about them - if he wants to.

Very charming, so much so that it’s hard to dislike him. Does he abuse this power? I mean, only when he feels like it. Which is often. (And yes, this makes him popular with the gals and guys too).

Furthermore I think he’s a good cook, has lots of friends ánd enemies, close with Apollo, Dionysus and Artemis (he showcases his love by pranking them), will sometimes help out a random traveller (when he feels like it) and Always Doing Something. He’s gotta have something to do at all times or he’ll go crazy.

I AGREE!!

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

----------------------------------------------

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

----------------------------------------------

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

[honeytea8]

“With you, forever” - Guido Mista/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Greek AU and the first thing that popped in my head was Mista’s hat, since it kinda looks like a Trojan warrior’s helmet, so that’s where this came from!

Word Count: 1.6K (becuz why not)

Ares!Mista and Milkmaid!Reader insert for you :)

Not once had Mista ever been jealous of Apollo. Not once, until the moment it dawned on him that you—the very object of his affections—spent many of your days under the sun’s watchful eye. 

The warm coloring of your skin was proof of this, as you shepherded the sheep and tended to your father’s cattle. Even as sweat licked at your forehead and the fine little hairs on your nape and hairline stuck to your skin. To Mista, you were an oasis to a thirsty, dying man. The healing balm to tortured souls and the one who had seized his ravaged heart. 

You were an unassuming young milkmaid, with skin smoother than wax and hair softer than cotton. Every time he caught a glimpse of your flawless skin, his throat grew parched and the thoughts buzzing in his head came to a screeching halt. You, the beauty of your hometown, stood second to none in his book.

Being the god of war that he was, one thing Mista greatly admired was your devotion and hardworking nature. This truth was punctuated by the sturdiness of your limbs; the sinew and muscle of your thighs alone could bring a lesser man to his knees. You filled him with desire but Mista didn’t push or prod, content with simply watching you and pining from afar. 

When he overheard your father’s talk of marriage, it was then Mista determined in his heart that idleness would do him no good. Somehow, he must have you by his side forever.

He was Ares, a trojan warrior battle-bred and destined to be a hero. This simple endeavor should be easy enough. There wasn’t an inkling of doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t be able to win your love. With a single goal in his heart, he took a leap off his lofty throne beyond the clouds.

Mista found purchase near a well, the only well in the entire village. He had memorized your routes by now, so when the sun shifted a few centimeters to the left, he knew you would begin your trek up this specific hillside. You would carry with you a wooden pail, like you always did, but this time, he would be there to ask for a drink. You would grant it, he’d confess, and then whisk you away from this land to one far greater.

This was what he thought, however, reality was quite different from fantasy.

When Mista had asked for a sip of your water, your pouty lips screwed into a frown; with pinched brows you questioned, “What kind of a traveler leaves home without a waterskin?” 

The sound of your voice had him floundering for a moment. Not only because it was the first time his ears were blessed to hear it, but also because it was so soft and sweet, despite the harshness of your tone. 

How foolish he must appear now? His suave bravado completely dissipated at your words. But mercifully, you still scooped your little dipper into the pail and offered him a drink anyway.

Mista grinned boyishly, “You have refreshed me, amore. I owe you my life.” 

“Keep it.” you huffed while turning on your heels. “Don’t need it.”

In that split second when your gaze left him, your eyes showed a fire he had never seen in you before, one that burned brighter than the embers of Hephaestus. If he didn’t love you before, he was positive he did now. 

Mista gave chase, keen on following you even to ends of the earth.

“My name is Mista, god of war. You may have heard of me? Ares? The Olympian?”

You said nothing to indicate that you’d even heard his boasting.

“May you grant me the name of my savior, at least?”

“Nope.”

He blinked slowly, “Then...will you marry me?”

At his words, you paused for only half a second, “Are you mad?”

“For you? Possibly.”

Again, reality was quite far from fantasy but Mista wouldn’t complain about the fickle inner workings of fate. He would have your heart eventually, it was really as simple as that.

But by the day’s end, you had rejected him countlessly.

.

.

.

“You need a different approach.” 

Apollo, or Giorno rather, greeted him with a knowing smile on his lips. Mista slumped further in his throne, shaken but not defeated. 

“Of course you saw the entire thing.” 

Was there such a place on earth Giorno’s scrutiny did not reach?

“It’s in the job description, amico.”

Giorno took a seat upon a cloud beside him. The two gods remained silent, watching you as you went about your evening. Mista had been watching you more intently since you spurned his advances. It was a stinging blow to his pride, but he wouldn’t be much of a warrior if he quit. No, he would surely see this through to the end.

“A different approach,” Mista murmured. “Like how?”

“Hmm, well, have you tried showing your intentions rather than howling it into the high heavens?” 

Mista scratched his neck sheepishly. “That bad, eh?”

“Indeed, our dear brother would’ve come to slay you himself had I not managed to intervene.” Giorno’s warm grin spread into something a bit more teasing, a part of himself he only liked to show Mista.

The warrior god laughed, “I can handle Abbacchio’s temper, god of wine that he is. Dionysos hasn’t seen battle in over a thousand years, he could never slay the great Ares.”

“Be that as it may, it would do you well to let your actions speak louder than your words in this case. That mortal is different; your journey will only be as difficult as you make it, do not neglect the beauty of surrender.”

Mista hummed in thought, sobering up a bit at his brother’s prophetic words. Giorno was right—not that he’d ever doubted! Mista wondered in what ways he could best show you that his intentions were true. What would it take to get you to accept him? 

“Ever the wise one, Giorno?”

“Again, brother, it’s in the job description.”

.

.

.

Mista was a brute—a force of nature on the battlefield, and the absolute manifestation of chaos, destruction, and violence. He had killed countless men in times of war, using his body like an ax to cut down every foe. He was no strategist like Fugo or mischievously clever like Narancia. He could not think his way through this. Mista could only follow his instincts.

For the next several months, he devoted himself to your cause. 

When you arose at dawn to feed the chickens, he was there to help. When you hand-washed your linens in a river downstream, Mista was there with his robes hiked up, ready to assist. Whenever you drew out your hoe to till the land, whether for plowing or for harvesting, he followed suit. 

Did the sheep’s wool need to be taken for the winter? Did the meat need to be salted and preserved? Were the cows properly milked so they wouldn’t moo all day and night? Whatever it was that you required, Mista was there to serve. He’d even stayed with you when your father fell ill, procuring herbs for his tea and medication.

Until then, you hadn’t warmed up to him at all. You would glare and make snarky remarks to get him to leave you alone. Sometimes even ignoring him completely. But after seeing him dirty and bruised from scaling a mountaintop just to obtain a rare healing herb for your father. Well, after that, you couldn’t quite remain unaffected by his charm.

Soon, you realized there was more to this strange god than what the eyes could see. His humor, his confidence, his quirks and antics. (Honestly, who in their right mind numbered their weapons while skipping every number with four in it?)

You were surprised that he hadn’t mentioned marriage again after that first day. Of course you knew it was what he ultimately wanted, but he’d left it alone until you were comfortable.

Meanwhile, Mista had given himself over to you as a friend and much needed companion. He listened to you bare your soul with rapt attention, clinging to every word that fell from your lips. The many talks you both had well into the night were some of the most interesting and indulgent you’d ever had. You had never felt this way with anyone; it was the kind of happiness that made colors brighter and food taste better!

After much consideration, you finally agreed to take Mista as your love, though it wasn’t easy. You still couldn’t reconcile the yearning you had for him with your duties here on earth.

One evening, as you both sat out in the yard, you broke down and cried. He had floundered, again, but regained himself enough to move closer and lend you his shoulder. Please don’t cry, my love, is what he wanted to say but the lump in his throat was unyielding. What could bring you to tears like this? He hoped it wasn’t his doing.

“Mista,” you said, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t think I can leave with you…” 

Ah, now he understood. 

This was your life after all, and Mista had foolishly thought he could snatch you away from everything you knew. That he had been doing you a favor by wanting to take you to a place he thought was better than this.

It was true he wanted to remain by your side, but not unless he would get to see your smile or that wicked fire in your eyes. 

The god looked down at the calluses riddling his palms, the various cuts and scars each had a story to tell. They were innumerable. These were the very hands he wanted to hold you with. In this battle against his heart and mind, who would win?

Mista shifted closer to you, drawing an arm around the slope of your shoulder.

“Okay.” he said quietly. “So, what if I decided to stay here with you, forever?”

[peacefulwriter88]

Change Your Mind

Chris (The Destroyer) X Curvy WoC

Warnings: M for Mature (SMUT), fluff

A/N: This is a build from my original story that I wrote month back called Dust to Dust. I’m fascinated by Chris’ character and decided to not take the same path for his character in the movie. 

The flames are a harsh contrast to the bitter cold wind that whips past him, ices over his ears as he checks on the grilled chicken. The smell of mixed spices takes over his nostrils, distracts him temporarily from the sound of laughter and chatter that escapes from within the town home.

He was meeting your parents for the first time.

Dating for nearly two years and you had broached it casually and cautiously how you wanted to invite them over for dinner. You had been wrapped up in his arms, the short, sparkly gold dress you had opted to wear for New Years Eve gleaming under the moonlight with the faded jean jacket he had thrown over your shoulders, the both of you stepping  out of your friends party to have a moment to yourselves.

He had wanted to say no. This had already gone on long enough - you and him - but every time he mustered an ounce of courage to tell you he was done, looking into your full eyes he always, always backed down. He was ashamed of his weakness - he was no good for you. He saw the questioning glances that your friends shot his way whenever you both entered a room, not understanding how you were so in love with someone like him.

You didn’t care. You told him all the time, convinced him enough to finally move in. To get him to come out and be a part of your world - to meet your friends who wore expensive clothes and drove fancy cars and talked about having mortgages and vacationing in Europe. To host game nights with your brother and your sister, meeting their partners for the first time as you all scarfed down pizza and yelled at the other. You were testing him, getting him comfortable with you, leading up to this moment.

He closes the heavy, metal grill and rubs his hands together, blowing on them. It was only February and the California weather kept shifting from blistery cold to warmth and he was stuck outside with the thin, maroon button down you had kindly asked him to wear for the occasion, one of two of the only nice shirts he owned.

He turns around, watches the way you smile as you chat enthusiastically with your mother and sister, your hands busy chopping radicchio, kale and tomatoes while checking on the cinnamon apples that were cooking nearby. You were wearing a cherry wine dress, long sleeved that flared out around your thighs in a fun teasing way. Thigh high stockings that your mother had clicked her tongue too (“do you really think a girl with your frame should  wear things like that out”) though she complimented the long gold necklace you had paired with it, the long thick waves in your hair. You both planned on going out after, you promised him anywhere he wanted and he wonders if its because you know your parents would never approve of him - that he wasn’t enough and you wanted to take his mind off of the knowledge.

“Mind if I join you?”

The deep, gruff voice comes from your father who’s opened the patio door -  has two beers in his hands as he closes the glass behind him. It mutes the soft indie rock that floats from your living room speakers, leaving the both of them to the muffled sound of cars occasionally passing by, the sound of gas feeding the fire in the grill, birds chirping.

“No, it’d be nice to have company.”

You had your mother's looks, her hips and face shape and eyes and smile, but your personality was just a boxed version of your fathers. Humor and wit that was charming, drew you in knowingly and then an edginess that took you off guard, made you fumble over your words. He even had an intimidating name, Duke, regal and confident.

He had already put his foot in his mouth with the older gentleman five minutes into meeting him. He had no idea how the hell he was supposed to survive a casual conversation while he grilled chicken. Figured he’d pray the chicken would finish before he could figure it out.

“Chicken smells good.”  Duke says now, handing over  the beer to him and he takes it happily, pulls his key chain out to pop open the familiar bottle. Does the same for your father.

“Your daughter is a great cook. It's been marinating overnight, should be good.”  

Duke nods, takes a sip and watches him carefully. Chris shifts, lifting the grill to check on the cooking meat though he knows nothing has changed since he’s checked on it two minutes back. He’s had a gun placed to his head, the threat of death just a click away and he was nowhere near as terrified then as he is now

in this moment.

“What do you do again, Chris?”

Chris looks over at him, places the hood of the grill down.

“I own a small mechanic shop in the county over.”

“Mechanic,” Duke mules the words I’m his mouth, “Trade you learned?”

“I was always fussing around with cars. Ran in my family - my grandfather was a mechanic, my dad. After I got my GED figured might as well take over the shop.” 

“GED?” Duke takes another sip, watches him carefully and Chris nods slowly.

“Yep.”

He’s never felt more ashamed of his life choices than he does in this moment, couldn’t imagine what your dad would do if he knew that there was a duffel bag full of 100′s hiding in the closet upstairs that he’s been trying to figure out how to get out of  the house since Tuesday. Didn’t want to tell him about the two 9mm’s he kept locked up under the bed, that he invested in a whole new security system because he couldn’t trust that Silas and one of his goddamn crew members wouldn’t get the hint that he was done with that life and that he just wanted to be a goddamn mechanic.

“How’d you meet my daughter again?”  

“We were at a bar. She challenged me to pool and nearly won.” Chris takes a sip now, eyeing him and Duke nods slowly, clearing his throat.

“And now you both live together, in this nice house she bought herself after she got promoted to marketing director of  the company she’s been working at, cooking dinner on her grill.”

The bite of it hurts, what he was inferring and Chris sticks a hand into his pocket, flickers his eyes away. He knows what he was thinking.

‘Why are you wasting my daughters time?’

He doesn’t voice it, Chris knows. Knows it’s what most people in your life ask when you pull him into your world happily. He was becoming exhausted of the feeling.

“You’ve impressed her,” Duke chuckles almost skeptically. “You know, my little girl isn’t an easy one to impress. Most men she dates….bore her. But you’ve been stained on her tongue for two years now, wrapped in her heart and I wonder what it is. You seem good enough a man. I can tell you love her at least as much as she loves you. But what can you bring her outside of happiness and a home?”

Duke shakes his head, stares out at the horizon.

“You want me to break up with her.” Chris doesn’t have to question it, knows it and it makes him want to cower upstairs, to sit next to the Akita-Shepherd dog, Apollo, that you both had adopted five months back together and be reminded that something outside of you loved him.

“I want you to be able to be a good man to her. I don’t fucking care that you have a GED and your a mechanic. You’re a working man. But I need to know you can take care of her. Need to know she’ll be okay if she gives herself completely to you. I understand that loving look you both share with each other...it's not going to go away even if you left. I want her to be happy and I want to make sure you can keep her happy.”

It takes Chris off guard, makes him look over at the older man questioningly as he takes another sip. He was raising a white flag, knew that his opinion didn’t matter. He was trying to give his blessing.

“I know I’m not good enough for her but I love her. I’d do anything to keep her happy.”  

Duke looks over at him, gives a faint smile in the waning light.

“Good,” he takes another sip of his beer, hesitates before he asks, “....she tell you yet?”

_____________

Chris  stares down at the small, plastic device that sits on top of the granite bathroom sink, daunting as it unassumingly stares back at him. Bold, blue lines that glare back up through the natural light of your master bathroom, the result undeniable.

Positive.

He had to look for the paper that told him the difference to be sure as he leans over the sink to stare down at the stick. There’s someone playing rap a few houses down, it blares loudly in contrast to the rapid fire Spanish a woman is speaking to another occupant, loud enough for the neighborhood to hear.

He drowns it out. Can’t focus on it when there’s a steady ringing noise that trills in his ears, his hands gripping the counter top, heart pounding in his chest as his lungs expel air out of his mouth like a small leak in a balloon.

You we’re pregnant.

He drinks in the statement in his mind. You were pregnant. You were pregnant with his child. There was a little life in you that he had helped create, a combination of both you and him.

It takes his breath away.

So much so that he has to splash water on his face, stare into the mirror into his blue eyes.

What did this mean for him? For the choices that led him to here? His immediate thought is that he should have fucking broke up with you. Probably should have thrown on that rubber when he treated you to a weekend in Vegas. He fucked up, like he always did, by tainting your body with his seed. How could he leave you if he has too, to ensure your safety now that a child was involved? It was painful enough to try to deny you but now you and a baby?

He doesn’t get enough time to answer– instead he’s distracted by the way the main door slams close, the sound of your footsteps mixed with Apollos smaller ones as he barks enthusiastically as you both slowly make your way up the stairs.  He moves hastily, grabbing the small plastic device and stuffing it back into the box, throwing it back in the basket where you kept your extra shampoo and conditioner and body wash, what he had originally been seeking before his hands had landed on the lightweight box. He closes the cabinet softly, places the body wash on the counter right as you walk into your master bedroom. You had stepped out for a run, something you rarely did but Apollo was so energized he had inspired you to get back into the cardio exercise. You walk to your bed with him devotedly at your side, watching you curiously as you looked down at your phone frowning.  

Your have one headphone in, one out and he can hear the upbeat techno and hip hop music you liked to play occasionally, your hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail as your thin tank top stuck to your sports bra, your torso. Drank in the way the soft material of your workout pants clung to your thick thighs – your ass and your calves and he sighs resignedly.

This was why he couldn’t let go. He belonged to you. Every inch of his being was made to ensure your happiness and he knew, without hesitation that it didn’t matter that you were pregnant because whatever you decided he would support. The decision only partly belonged to him; for as much as it would change everything for him it would change every inch of who you were and his role was to support in any way that meant. It bites at him guiltily that seconds earlier he was plotting how to leave you because when he sees you he wants nothing but the opposite.

Love has truly fucked him over.

He smiles, shaking the guilt away as he walks over to you. Apollo runs to him eagerly, easily jumping up on his legs begging for love that he returns happily before he wraps his arms around you, drawing you flush back into him as he rests his head on your shoulder, kisses your cheek. You yelp – nearly scream and jump out of your skin as you drop your phone, look over at him.

“Goddamn – warning much!?”

You throw him a glaring eye though your voice is teasing and he squeezes you tighter, drawing you closer,

“I thought you heard me moving around in here.”

“No I got distracted by an email…” your voice trails off as you temporarily release your hold over his arms to pull out your headphones, start to wrap it around your phone that’s fallen onto the bed. He wonders if the email has to deal with the baby, confirming your pregnancy as you look back at him and whisper,

“Have you showered and gotten ready yet?”

He smiles at you coyly and you roll your eyes as you lean back into him.

“Christopher Ricks! My parents are going to be here in two hours and we haven’t even started with dinner.”

The small dimple that forms at the bridge of your nose deepens, a tell tale sign that you’re worried. You frown and your voice is doing that soft, whiney thing it does when you want him to do something. Your irises widen, looking at him innocently and he feels his heart stop for a second, his breath gone.

Completely and utterly devoted to you.

“We have enough time honey. We’ve already marinated the chicken and I’m going to grill it when they arrive….everything else will take an hour tops.”

You move your head to the side, watching him carefully before you sigh and nod.

“Okay, you’re probably right...”

You’re not convinced and he moves his hands lower to your hips, squeezing them softly and leaning over to brush his lips against yours. You make a slight moan, eyes flickering back to him as he watches you back carefully before you shift your body to move closer to him. It's only a second before his lips hungrily fall on your own, his tongue dominating over yours as he pulls you back into him, into his growing erection. Your hand has moved to find the back of his head, drawing him closer to him as your mouth tries to dominate over his, your finely manicured nails scraping against his scalp and he hisses into your mouth as he turns you with one swift movement, pushes you back until the back of your calves hit the bed. Your hands move around his neck drawing him closer as he leans you back and you both fall back onto the large king size bed with ease, your laughter ringing high between his kisses as your thighs wrap around his torso. He leans over you, nudging his nose against your own as he stares down at you, at your edges starting to curl at the base of your hair roots, the way your two small dimples dig into the fatty curvature of your cheek.

“I love you. Do you know that?” he whispers seriously, lips brushing against your own and you smile into him, nodding as you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer.

“I know.”

“I’d die for you. Climb mountains, dive in the deepest darkest part of the of the ocean if it ensured I’d get to spend every waking minute of my life with you.”

You blush, shift your eyes away before you look back up at him. You hated verbal affection when it was directed toward you - had somehow managed to lie and convince yourself that you were unworthy of it and he hates the two large pools of water that linger in your eyes as you smile up at him.

“I didn’t realize I fell in love with a romantic,” you nudge his nose and he juts his hips into you involuntarily, causing you both to groan before you whisper, “But you’re my world Chris. I love you too….love you so much I couldn’t imagine my life without you”

His lips skim down your chin, finding comfort in your neck as his rough hands move toward the hemline of your shirt, tugging on it softly. You try to fight him as he raises the material, try to convince him that you were sweaty and gross but it falls on deaf ears, the fabric pulls over your head, his lips skimming between the apex of your breast which he kisses tenderly before his journey takes him to the softness of your stomach.

He know that you hated it when he lingers too long in the area, your insecurity that your stomach was too big and gross for his liking but he loved the softness to it. He liked the way it felt now as he kisses your skin tenderly and he wonders if the life in you can feel his feathery kisses, knows how lucky it was to have a mother like you that gave a guy like him a second glance.

“I love you, I love you, I love you….”  he says it to no one in particular as your hands rub the top of his buzzed hair, your hands soft as you stroke him affectionately and he moves lower, down to your abdomen which you protest.

“My vagina is so sweaty and so gross….no.” you whine and he chuckles as he looks up at you, at the way you watch him carefully and he nods.

“Fine. Then let's take a shower and clean you up then.”

You look at him, your eyes twinkling before you sit up becoming face to face with him.

“Fine. But you gotta scrub my back.”

“I always scrub your back.” he teases back, nipping at your nose.

_____________

The shower was needed, helped distract his nerves as his hands payed reverence to your body, his name a whisper as your soapy hands fell over his hard torso, scratched down his back as his cock slammed into you. You didn’t mind at all when he came in you, gripping him tightly as you both watched each other lovingly, shaking in the hot steamy water before his head fell into your neck line, breath hitting your decolletage as you gripped him closer.

He wonders when it had started to become a habit, him fucking you bare and cumming in the sweetness of your walls and why either of you had cared enough to think about the consequences.

Perhaps, subconsciously, it's what you’ve both wanted.

The memory is refreshing in the setting sun, and he turns to look back at you. Normally you liked to sip wine when you cooked but you had politely declined after you offered it to your mother and sister, had subconsciously had your hands flit down to your stomach like you did now.

No you hadn’t. Not yet.

“No.”

“Hm….I think she will tonight. Try to act surprised,” Duke finishes his beer, looks over at him. “Don’t break her fucking heart. Or I’ll break your fucking head.”  

He places the  empty beer bottle beside the grill, patting Chris’ shoulder before turning on heels, back into the house.

He’s the first person in your world that’s given him your blessing, told him it’s okay that he could be him and be with you. It gives him hope.

You come out minutes later, a large smile on your face as you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk toward him. He opens up the grill, checks on the chicken as you tuck yourself into his arms, nuzzling your face into the side of his chest.

“You’re freezing. Come inside when you’re done checking on the chicken,” you look up at him as you wrap your arms around his body, “have a good conversation with my dad? I know he can come off strong.”

His hands graze lower, stops at your midsection and he rests his hands there, rubbing it tenderly,

“It was fine.”

You nod, resting your head back to the setting sun and looking out into the horizon. He knows he should wait for you to broach, to pretend his ignorant but he knows you, knows that if you haven’t already bought it up it was because you feared his response. The last thing he wanted was you to believe you weren’t enough so he takes a leap.

“How far along are you?” He finally asks and he feels you flinch, to hesitate as he looks down at you.

“Three months.” You finally whisper and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

Definitely a souvenir from Vegas.

“I’ll support you in whatever you choose baby. I love you and I’m not adverse to becoming a father. Not when it means you’re the mother.”

There’s a moment of silence that ripples between you both as you squeeze him. He thinks you’re going to say something - you always had something to say but you don’t.  Instead you smile up at him endearingly, lift on your toes to place a kiss on his lips. He likes these kisses, the ones where your lips nestle between the softness of his goatee and he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips for his own, to squeeze you back as just as fervently.

The moment is short lived. There’s a knock on the door, Apollo’s barking and your sister enthusiastically lets out, “I’ll get it!” before either of you can move.

He turns just in time to catch Silas in the doorway entrance, smiling at your mom and dad and shaking their hands. Chris feels his heart drop, knows that out there, somewhere in hell is laughing at the notion that he thought he would be safe; that he could keep you safe. Your sister opens the screen door, smiles at the two of you.

“Chris your brother is here. Silas?”

You look up at him curiously as Silas walks behind your sister, drinks in the protective way Chris has wrapped his around you and smiles.

“Hey brother. So nice to see you.”

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[orbemnews]

A Virus Variant by Any Other Name … Please 20H/501Y.V2. VOC 202012/02. B.1.351. Those were the charming names scientists proposed for a new variant of the coronavirus that was identified in South Africa. The convoluted strings of letters, numbers and dots are deeply meaningful for the scientists who devised them, but how was anyone else supposed to keep them straight? Even the easiest to remember, B.1.351, refers to an entirely different lineage of the virus if a single dot is missed or misplaced. The naming conventions for viruses were fine as long as variants remained esoteric topics of research. But they are now the source of anxiety for billions of people. They need names that roll off the tongue, without stigmatizing the people or places associated with them. “What’s challenging is coming up with names that are distinct, that are informative, that don’t involve geographic references and that are kind of pronounceable and memorable,” said Emma Hodcroft, a molecular epidemiologist at the University of Bern in Switzerland. “It sounds kind of simple, but it’s actually a really big ask to try and convey all of this information.” The solution, she and other experts said, is to come up with a single system for everyone to use but to link it to the more technical ones scientists rely on. The World Health Organization has convened a working group of a few dozen experts to devise a straightforward and scalable way to do this. “This new system will assign variants of concern a name that is easy to pronounce and recall and will also minimize unnecessary negative effects on nations, economies and people,” the W.H.O. said in a statement. “The proposal for this mechanism is currently undergoing internal and external partner review before finalization.” The W.H.O.’s leading candidate so far, according to two members of the working group, is disarmingly simple: numbering the variants in the order in which they were identified — V1, V2, V3 and so on. “There are thousands and thousands of variants that exist, and we need some way to label them,” said Trevor Bedford, an evolutionary biologist at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle and a member of the working group. Naming diseases was not always so complicated. Syphilis, for example, is drawn from a 1530 poem in which a shepherd, Syphilus, is cursed by the god Apollo. But the compound microscope, invented around 1600, opened up a hidden world of microbes, allowing scientists to start naming them after their shapes, said Richard Barnett, a historian of science in Britain. Still, racism and imperialism infiltrated disease names. In the 1800s, as cholera spread from the Indian subcontinent to Europe, British newspapers began calling it “Indian cholera,” depicting the disease as a figure in a turban and robes. “Naming can very often reflect and extend a stigma,” Dr. Barnett said. In 2015, the W.H.O. issued best practices for naming diseases: avoiding geographic locations or people’s names, species of animal or food, and terms that incite undue fear, like “fatal” and “epidemic.” Scientists rely on at least three competing systems of nomenclature — Gisaid, Pango and Nextstrain — each of which makes sense in its own world. Updated  March 2, 2021, 10:34 a.m. ET “You can’t track something you can’t name,” said Oliver Pybus, an Oxford evolutionary biologist who helped design the Pango system. Scientists name variants when changes in the genome coincide with new outbreaks, but they draw attention to them only if there is a change in their behavior — if they transmit more easily, for instance (B.1.1.7, the variant first seen in Britain), or if they at least partly sidestep the immune response (B.1.351, the variant detected in South Africa). Encoded in the jumbled letters and digits are clues about the variant’s ancestry: The “B.1,” for instance, denotes that those variants are related to the outbreak in Italy last spring. (Once the hierarchy of variants becomes too deep to accommodate another number and dot, newer ones are given the next letter available alphabetically.) But when scientists announced that a variant called B.1.315 — two digits removed from the variant first seen in South Africa — was spreading in the United States, South Africa’s health minister “got quite confused” between that and B.1.351, said Tulio de Oliveira, a geneticist at the Nelson Mandela School of Medicine in Durban and a member of the W.H.O.’s working group. “We have to come up with a system that not only evolutionary biologists can understand,” he said. With no easy alternatives at hand, people have resorted to calling B.1.351 “the South African variant.” But Dr. de Oliveira pleaded with his colleagues to avoid the term. (Look no further than the origins of this very virus: Calling it the “China virus” or the “Wuhan virus” fed into xenophobia and aggression against people of East Asian origin all over the world.) The potential harms are grave enough to have dissuaded some countries from coming forward when a new pathogen is detected within their borders. Geographical names also quickly become obsolete: B.1.351 is in 48 countries now, so calling it the South African variant is absurd, Dr. de Oliveira added. And the practice could distort science. It is not entirely clear that the variant arose in South Africa: It was identified there in large part thanks to the diligence of South African scientists, but branding it as that country’s variant could mislead other researchers into overlooking its possible path into South Africa from another country that was sequencing fewer coronavirus genomes. Over the past few weeks, proposing a new system has become something of a spectator sport. A few of the suggestions for name inspiration: hurricanes, Greek letters, birds, other animal names like red squirrel or aardvark, and local monsters. Áine O’Toole, a doctoral student at the University of Edinburgh who is part of the Pango team, suggested colors to indicate how different constellations of mutations were related. “You could end up with dusty pink or magenta or fuchsia,” she said. Sometimes, identifying a new variant by its characteristic mutation can be enough, especially when the mutations gain whimsical names. Last spring, Ms. O’Toole and her collaborators began calling D614G, one of the earliest known mutations, “Doug.” “We’d sort of not had a huge amount of human interaction,” she said. “This was our idea of humor in lockdown No. 1.” Other nicknames followed: “Nelly” for N501Y, a common thread in many new variants of concern, and “Eeek” for E484K, a mutation thought to make the virus less susceptible to vaccines. But Eeek has emerged in multiple variants worldwide simultaneously, underscoring the need for variants to have distinct names. The numbering system the W.H.O. is considering is straightforward. But any new names will have to overcome the ease and simplicity of geographic labels for the general public. And scientists will need to strike a balance between labeling a variant quickly enough to forestall geographical names and cautiously enough that they do not wind up giving names to insignificant variants. “What I don’t want is a system where we have this long list of variants that all have W.H.O. names, but really only three of them are important and the other 17 are not important,” Dr. Bedford said. Whatever the final system is, it also will need to be accepted by different groups of scientists as well as the general public. “Unless one really does become the kind of lingua franca, that will make things more confusing,” Dr. Hodcroft said. “If you don’t come up with something that people can say and type easily, and remember easily, they will just go back to using the geographic name.” Source link Orbem News #Variant #Virus

[garrettsthings]

Patoranger v. Lupinranger Story and Character Predictions

I know, I know, Dukemon has been posting a lot of rumours online and I’ve been dropping the ball. I’ve had a really hectic semester this year and I’ve been absolutely drained. I promise that tomorrow night, I will post my thoughts on the most recent rumour Dukemon has posted at that time.

Tonight, however, I want to do something that I’m a little overdue on. Just like last year, I am going to put forth my own personal ideas of what I would like to see the team makeup be for each of the two teams we are getting next year. Now keep in mind, these are simply my predictions, they are not rumors and I have no reason to believe they will actually come true. If you feel like seeing what essentially boils down to my fanfiction idea however, read on. Please let me know what you think through reblogs or comments!

Story: There is a new hot commodity on the streets: ancient relics from a long extinct civilization. Discovered and distributed by a virtually unknown criminal organization, these black market items can only be afforded by the uber-rich, and for good reason. Anyone who possesses one of these relics can summon a small army of monstrous foot-soldiers and can turn into a monster themselves. Armed with this immense power, these Relic Holders have been causing chaos, with the police next to useless in stopping them.

Knowing that a response is needed, the legendary head of Interpol, code-named Mr. Apollo, has organized an elite squad of genetically enhanced police officers to fight back against the Relic Holders and discover the truth behind who has been distributing the relics. Armed with the latest in armour and weaponry, they are the Keisatsu Sentai Patoranger!

But things are not as simple as that. Mr. Apollo’s sister, the eccentric billionaire known only as Miss Artemis, who has always been fast and loose with the law ans competitive with her brother, sees the Patos as nothing more than a band-aid on a bullet wound. Fighting the Relic Holders on the streets will only make the violence worse. The only real way to solve this little Relic problem is to steal the Relics from under the noses of their Holders. However, since the Relic Holders are smart enough to keep their identities secret and smart enough to turn their mansions into virtual fortresses, ordinary methods will not suffice. To that end, Miss Artemis has gathered her own team of genetically modified phantom thieves to steal the Relics and expose the Relic Holders to the public. Arming them with technology... “inspired” by that of her brother’s team, she serves as the commander of the Kaitou Sentai Lupinranger!

Team Makeup: Ignoring all previous rumours so far, the teams I envisioned from the beginning are two teams of three, with an equal number of male and female members between the two. The Patos will all have “physical” superpowers that enhance their abilities, while the Lupins will have more flashy “mental” abilities. Also, while I sincerely hope that the actual teams will have vehicles for Pato and animals for Lupin, I imagined a mixed motif similar to Ninninger (I know, I know, but I liked the idea of it), with each team having a humanoid mecha, a vehicle, and an animal.

Patoranger:

PatoRed: A rookie cop fresh from the academy, no one was more surprised than him when he was selected to lead Patoranger. He may have top grades, but his inexperience makes him wonder if Apollo had an ulterior motive in choosing him. In spite of this, he is smart, strong, and always willing to push himself to do his best and live up to his title.

Power: Super Strength

Weapon: A riot shield

Personal Mech: A humanoid robot with megabusters for arms. Forms the torso and head of the megazord: the legs fold up onto the back, forming the megazord’s chest, and the arms fold up onto the mech’s chest, acting as a jetpack for the megazord.

PatoBlue: A celebrated super cop, and knows it, Blue refers to himself as the best driver in the world. While he has never lost a suspect in a car chase, and seems to be proficient with every vehicle known to man, he is rather infamous for driving recklessly and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake no matter what vehicle he drives, be it a car, a helicopter, or a unicycle.

Power: Super Speed

Weapon: Tonfas

Personal Mech: A high tech police car, which Red’s mech is capable of standing on for transport. Forms the waist and legs of the megazord.

PatoYellow: The lead trainer of the K-9 unit, Yellow loves animals but in truth is an excellent detective in her own right. Even before her enhancements, there was no one better at finding hidden evidence or suspects. There are those on the force that she’s the one who teaches the dogs how to smell. While easily the nicest member of the team, if you hurt her friends or her dogs, she will turn you into a cautionary tale.

Power: Enhanced senses

Weapon: A pair of pistols

Personal Mech: A German shepherd. Splits in half to form the arms of the megazord, with the head serving as the shoulderpads (think like Gingaioh)

Lupinranger:

LupinViolet: The Lupins leader, Violet is considered to be the greatest phantom thief in the world. He is an expert at stalking his mark, meticulously planning his heist, and grandly stealing his target with all the charm and theatricality one expects of a phantom thief. Unfortunately, he’s also extremely clumsy, a fact he is very embarrassed about and denies vehemently. He also fancies himself a ladies man, but despite his good looks and impeccable manners he tends to get rejected a lot, which causes him to sulk for hours on end until his teammates finally cheer him up.

Power: Illusions

Weapon: A pair of long daggers on chains

Personal Mech: A humanoid robot with a crow motif. Forms the entire upper body of the megazord by flipping upside down. The arms become the upper legs, and the legs become the megazord’s arms.

LupinWhite: A high class lady and ojou-sama type, White tends to get whatever she wants which lead her to grow bored of her current lifestyle. Generally cold and emotionless, White became a phantom thief because it was the only way she felt truly alive. Almost a little too good at stealth and infiltration, she dresses in a bright white outfit to add an extra layer of difficulty to her missions. The kind of person who hates being bored, white has a habit of taking unnecessary risks to keep things interesting, much to Violet’s chagrin. She also goes out of her way to antagonize PatoYellow, as her powers render White’s invisibility useless, making her the most fun to fight in White’s eyes.

Power: Invisibility

Weapon: A sniper rifle

Personal Mech: A stealth jet. Forms the right leg of the megazord.

LupinBlack: The youngest member of the team, Black is an incorrigible prankster who loves causing mischief for those around her, especially her fearless leader. She absolutely owns the black cat motif, claiming that her powers are to cause bad luck and using them to cause accidents for her opponents. Despite her mischievous nature, Black loves her teammates and looks up to them like an older brother and sister. If they were ever in trouble, there is nothing she wouldn’t do to rescue them.

Power: Telekinesis

Weapon: Whip

Personal Mech: A black cat. Forms the left leg of the megazord.

[asabutterfielded]

Set Report: The Space Between Us with Asa Butterfield & Britt Robertson

From War of the Worlds to Rogue One, humanity has had a longstanding fascination with sci-fi and the idea of life on other planets. The Space Between Us – an interplanetary adventure from STX Entertainment hitting theaters next month – embraces elements of the science fiction genre while telling a very human story… and showing us that the futuristic fantasies of its predecessors are much closer to reality than we might think.

Fangirlish had the opportunity to visit the Albuquerque, New Mexico set of The Space Between Us – which stars Asa Butterfield, Britt Robertson, Gary Oldman, and Carla Gugino – in late 2015. There, Asa, Britt, Director Peter Chelsom, and Executive Producer Richard Lewis talked us through the timely premise of the film, the unique relationship between its two central characters, and more.

The Premise

The Space Between Us imagines a future that doesn’t seem too far off: one where humans have colonized Mars. Between recent NASA discoveries and the ongoing fascination with both real-life and fictional developments concerning the Red Planet, this is one science fiction story that feels more like a matter of “when” than “if.”

Speaking of Mars missions, SpaceX’s work involving the Red Planet was a major source of both inspiration and research for the team behind the film. “It’s unbelievable,” Director Peter Chelsom said. “It’s like my 9-year-old kid Ollie designed and drew a rocket station – there’s a Starbucks over here, and there’s people building a rocket there, and people going ’round on skateboards, and the average workforce is 32 years old. It’s incredible. There’s none of that kind of Apollo 13, white shirt and collar with ‘Houston, we have a problem.’ It’s not like that. And it’s very, very imminent. The t-shirts are ‘Occupy Mars,’ and when you leave the building, you’re kind of overwhelmed by the power of one man’s conviction.” That man, of course, is SpaceX founder Elon Musk, who is given a clear nod in Gary Oldman’s Nathaniel Shepherd.

The film opens as a group of astronauts heads into space on the first mission to establish this Mars colony, spearheaded by Shepherd’s company. However, soon after takeoff, they discover that one of the astronauts is pregnant. As Executive Producer Richard Lewis explained, this scenario is very much on the minds of NASA’s scientists, one of whom he consulted while writing the script. “He said, It’s gonna happen and we don’t know what to do.”

The result in the movie, at least, is bittersweet. The astronaut in question dies due to complications from giving birth shortly after landing on Mars – but her child survives. Gardner Elliott (Butterfield) – whose name is drawn from Being There‘s Chauncey Gardner and E.T.‘s Elliott – grows into an extraordinary, brilliant teen fascinated by the home planet he has never known.

The film’s central focus is the human element of Gardner’s story – the discovery and wonder of seeing our planet through new eyes, first love, and so on – but it’s all the stronger for the real science behind his circumstances, which also drives the plot in an essential way. This required extensive research not only into Mars itself, but how a human born on the Red Planet would develop and what would happen to them if they made their way to Earth, as Gardner eventually does. Lewis consulted with his father, a heart specialist, as well as a number of other medical and astrophysics professionals while working on the script. “The science has been well researched,” he said. “It’s obviously fictional, but we feel we’re pretty damn close to what would really happen.”

The Characters

Richard Lewis, who also produced 2007’s August Rush, originally envisioned Freddie Highmore as Gardner. Though Freddie aged out of the role, Lewis became familiar with Asa Butterfield’s work and finished developing the script around him. “I’ve actually put a sizzle reel together, which Asa’s never seen, of him at that age – at 14 or 15 – playing this character,” he teased. “It would be so shocking to him. What’s been terrific [is that] he’s been in my eye since really the conception of the story. He’s got an otherworldly quality -he’s so disarming and so charming.”

Butterfield, who also starred in Ender’s Game, is no stranger to out-of-this-world stories. But his role as Gardner Elliott presented a new challenge: What would it be like to be the only human who has never known his home planet? Rather than alienating (no pun intended) us from its protagonist, The Space Between Us answers this question by bringing things closer to home. “This is science fiction, but it’s a lot more than that because of all the themes and the ideas are sort of more relatable,” Asa said. “It’s set in the future, [but] all the things they’re dealing with are [still] very current, about finding where you belong – something that I think everyone goes through and something that you see Gardner and Tulsa both are going through in the film.”

Tulsa (Britt Robertson) is a street-smart girl biding her time until she ages out of the foster system and can get on with her life. She and Gardner strike up a fast friendship in an online chat room (Gardner, of course, not telling her that he’s from Mars). “I think when you go online to meet people, you’re searching for something – whether it be friendship or romance or just companionship,” Britt said. “I think when [Gardner and Tulsa] met, what drew them together is just a connection and a bond and being curious about one another.”

Though Tulsa is initially wary of Gardner – who shows up unannounced at her school after he makes his way to earth – she soon realizes that he is who he says he is and lets her guard down. “There’s no harmful bone in his body, and that’s reassuring for someone who doesn’t trust,” Robertson said. “[She] realizes that he’s just a good guy and he’s been through a lot of different circumstances than, say, the average human.”

As the two travel across the country to find Gardner’s father, we see just how wondrous Earth is to the boy from Mars. Every experience is brand new for Gardner, who is blown away by everything from rain to horses. Asa revealed that these scenes proved rather difficult to shoot. “It’s hard to put yourself into that kind of position because we are so experienced in the world,” he said. “To completely strip all that back and just be in absolute awe about everything you see – whether a tree or a dog – it’s just, everything’s interesting.”

Tulsa plays a significant role in helping Gardner acclimate to Earth, and their road trip only brings them closer together. Britt describes their relationship as a partnership – “romance-wise or not.” “He is her family in some way, shape, or form. She doesn’t have anyone, she barely has friends, and her life feels like there’s something missing – and that piece of it is companionship and family, and that’s what he is to her,” she said.

The Set

Though filming for The Space Between Us took the cast and crew from Vegas to Malibu, it was Albuquerque, New Mexico that served as home base. Our set visit brought us to Highland High School: a real, very much in-session place of learning standing in for Tulsa’s Colorado high school.

The first scene of the day took place in an outdoor courtyard, with Tulsa confronting some bullies before riding off on her motorcycle. (Yes, Britt Robertson actually did that and yes, it was awesome.) The second brought us inside for Gardner and Tulsa’s first meeting, which doesn’t go quite as smoothly as Gardner expects.

Since both scenes take place during the school day, things got a little interesting. Not only were there lots of extras standing in for Tulsa’s fellow students, but Highland’s actual students passed through the set between classes and at lunch. These circumstances made for an authentic environment, if a slightly chaotic one. “I haven’t been to school in so long – nor have I actually been to a public high school before – so it’s overwhelming,” Britt said. “I hear they were getting a little confused as to who the actual students were and who background was. But it’s fine. Everyone’s been really cool.”

From a filmmaking standpoint, the high school actually made for one of the easiest shooting locations. “Compared to all our other challenges, this feels really like a walk in the park,” Chelsom said. “This is a kind of easy film environment. No one’s at zero gravity, no one’s in harnesses and wires, no one’s having to avoid an explosion, no one’s standing clear of helicopter blades. I find this kind of thing easy compared to all that.”

Asa talked us through the experience of filming in some of these more challenging environments, including the quarry standing in for Mars. “We had some great exterior things in this quarry where they made the Martian landscape, wearing the big space suits. I am a massive science fiction fan, so I was so excited to try an astronaut suit. I was walking around, [breathing] like Darth Vader. It was fun.”

[randallvangundy]

German Shepherd

German Shepherd is a medium to large-sized dog breed that is very popular in America. They are intelligent, capable, and easily trained dogs. Their unmatched devotion and courage make them one of the best dog breeds for guide and assistance work for the disabled, police and military, search and rescue, and herding.

They are very active breeds and like to have something to do. They need to exercise every day; otherwise, they become mischievous.

German Shepherd Statistics

Dog Breed GroupHerding Height24-26 inches (male); 22-24 inches (female) Weight65-90 pounds (male); 50-70 pounds (female) Lifespan7-10 years

German Shepherd Ratings

Energy level Exercise needs Requires attention Playfulness Trainability Shedding Grooming Friendly with family Friendly with strangers Friendly with other dogs Prey Drive

History of German Shepherds

German Shepherds, as the name implies, originated from Germany in the late 1800s. They were bred from the most intelligent, responsive, and obedient Shepherd dogs in an attempt to standardize breeds. The goal is to preserve traits that will help assist in herding sheep and protecting flocks from predators.

Before German Shepherds, German locals wanted to breed dogs that would contain skills and traits that will assist in herding sheep and protecting flocks from predators. These skills are intelligence, speed, strength, and a keen sense of smell.

This system was working well. The only problem is, each dog differed in appearance and ability from one locality and another.

That’s why in 1891, the Phylax Society started its mission to standardized dog breeds in Germany to battle these differences. Unfortunately, after three years, the society disbanded without actually creating the standard breed they were looking to have.

Fortunately, in the year 1899, Max von Stephanitz, an ex-cavalry, saw the dog Hektor Linksrhein in a dog show. Max also found that Hektor was a product of generations of selective breeding and is the complete result of what a working dog should be.

Hektor was strong, intelligent, loyal, and beautiful that Max took him in immediately. He renamed the dog Horand von Grafrath and founded the Society of the German Shepherd Dog. Horand then became the first German Shepherd Dog and became the center of the breeding programs.

When World War I came, the German Shepherd breed became popularly known in other parts of the world. People loved how these dogs are loyal and courageous in character. That’s why it’s also no wonder how they were easily welcomed as police dogs as well.

German Shepherd Temperament

German Shepherds are generally smart. Their intelligence is like no other, which makes them perfect for high-pressure jobs that involve a lot of problem-solving such as search and rescue. This intelligence makes them extremely confident, keen-observers, and on-the-spot decision-makers.

This dog breed is also self-assured. They love learning, and they’re eager to have a purpose. This makes them very easy to train. Matched with courage, they also become versatile companions.

However, German Shepherds are also aloof when it comes to strangers. Fortunately, they are not the aggressive type, so you don’t have to worry if you have visitors coming in. It’s just that these dogs are the reserved type, so they don’t make friends almost immediately.

But, when it comes to their family, they are incredibly loving and loyal. The only thing you need to do in return for this loyalty is to have the time and devotion to walk and exercise them because they are highly active and energetic as well.

Another trait that you need to know is that German Shepherds are very protective of their family and territory. This makes them excellent watchdogs too. However, if you want to prevent too much reactivity towards other people and dogs, just make sure you socialize them at an early age.

For a family with kids, this type of breed is charming and loving companions. They can be great playmates as well, and you would certainly enjoy spending a lot of time with them.

Care Requirements For German Shepherds

Nutrition:

German Shepherds are carnivores and need an average of 1740 and 2100 caloric intake. But if your dog is older or less active, then a lesser calorie count will do.

There are two crucial ingredients that you need to include: protein and fat. This is what makes this breed energetic, strong, and healthy. They also play a huge role in the dog’s growth.

Because of this, bets highly recommend that the dog’s diet must contain at least 22% of protein and a maintenance protein of 8% for adult dogs. For fat, they would need 8% of it for puppies and 5% for adults to support.

It’s best to take note that this dog breed’s diet should come from excellent food sources. For the protein source, whole meat sources such as beef, fish, and poultry are the best. For fat sources, foods that contain fish oil and vegetables with omega-three fatty acids will do. You can also add other ingredients such as sweet potatoes and carrots.

Grooming:

German Shepherds require grooming at least twice a week throughout the year. This is extremely important if you want to prevent the dog coat from matting. It will also keep the dog’s skin healthy.

You can also bathe your German Shepherd to remove that doggy smell. However, you can’t wash them too often as it will make their skin dry, flaky, and irritated. You can do this once a month.

Teeth should also be checked and cleaned regularly. You can use a dog-friendly toothpaste to clean their teeth. Another way to do this is by feeding them kibbles and other dog treats. Just remember not to brush them too harshly.

Toenails should be checked once a week and trimmed when needed as well. Leaving them too long can cause injuries to your dog, and you don’t want that. If you’re having a hard time doing this, then seek the help of an expert.

Lastly, take care of the ears. Cleaning them once a week will do with the use of ear drops. Remember not to use water as it can only cause infection. Also, make sure you’re in a quiet and traffic-free area so your dog won’t get distracted.

Exercise:

German Shepherds are extremely active dogs, and they require a lot of exercise. As a German Shepherd owner, you can provide three main types of activity for your dog:

A daily walk to release pent-up energy

High-intensity activities to keep their muscles in condition

Mental stimulation to challenge their minds

A minimum of 45 to 60 minutes of exercise with high-intensity activity and mental stimulation is recommended daily. It is also best to make sure that you don’t over-exercise them.

Health:

German Shepherds are highly at risk of hip dysplasia. It’s a hip deformity where the head of the thigh bone does not fit properly into the hip socket. Over time, the bone begins to wear away, and the constant inflammation leads to arthritis.

Degenerative myelopathy is also another health issue for this breed. It’s a neurological disease that results in slow, creeping paralysis of the dog’s hind. It’s currently untreatable, so it’s best to observe any pain and discomfort

Other health issues are bloating and torsion, heart diseases, epilepsy, vision problems, bleeding disorders, and digestive problems. Most of these

Lifespan:

A German Shepherd’s life expectancy is 8-10 years.

Famous German Shepherds

Horand von Grafrath: the first German Shepherd Dog and the genetic basis for modern German Shepherds

Strongheart: one of the first doggie film stars

Rin-Tin-Tin: the German Shepherd saved from the WWI war zone by the soldier Lee Duncan

Apollo: famous for his search and rescue work in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks

Quasimondo: famous in 2016 – 2017 for his adorable hunchback

Buddy: the first eye-seeing dog

Chips: the most decorated war dog from World War II

Bullet: appeared regularly on the Roy Rogers show

Max: the bionic dog in the third and final season of The Bionic Woman

Fun Facts About German Shepherds

German Shepherds’ Motto is “Utility and Intelligence.”

German Shepherds are the first service dogs.

The bite of a German Shepherd measures 238 PSI (that’s powerful).

The Thirteen Club exists for all senior (age 12 or older) German Shepherds in America.

The American Kennel Club calls them “shepherd dogs,” while the English call them “Alsatian wolf dogs.”

German Shepherds rank second in popularity out of 193 breeds.

There are 11 official colors of German Shepherds: Black, Tan, White, Liver, Sable, Black and Cream, Black and Red, Black, and Silver, Bi-color, Gray, and Blue.

Crossbreeds from the German Shepherd Lineage:

The Czechoslovakian Vlcak

The King Shepherd

The Shiloh Shepherd

The White Swiss Shepherd

The East-European Shepherd

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