#under the circumstances I might be hesitant to part with ten grand

[maddie-grove]

I am not a Carrie anti but I would NOT lend her money. I would only give her money that I could afford to lose forever. Like. C’mon.

[borkthemork]

Holy shit you unlocked my trap card!

--

Roy had kept put with the current situation. Both him and Alphonse had trekked the halls for a long time. He wondered if it was ten or fifteen minutes since he and the colonel split up, but that was his mistake for letting his unease get the better of him. Riza needed her right-hand man, not some cheap ass flunkie. 

He scrunched his nose, and flinched at the pang that ricocheted through the passageway.

"What was that?" Alphonse turned, looking wearily at the doors they'd passed.

"Whatever it was, we should hurry." Roy cocked his pistol, sharp and quick, like a click of a tongue. "I don't want to get caught with those freaks on our tail."

"Neither do I."

More doors and more empty creepy rooms. Everything seemed to be made of concrete, of some solid substance, and Roy noted of the scuff marks, of the alchemy that formed each piece of infrastructure. Whatever happened here, there must've been an extensive amount of alchemists to create a place such as this. It seemed too deliberate, too massive of a project. Shit, how far were they under the city? How far did this entire thing go?

He started to count his footsteps. Too late now, but might as well make himself useful.

In a moment, a brightness permeated the end of the corridor. Roy blinked, squinting more.

"It's a door, lieutenant!"

"Sure, is." He licked his lips, keeping his gun close. If anything happened, he had more heat packing in his holsters. He should be able to hold out if anything didn't go to plan. "Let me lead the way, Alphonse."

Alphonse relented, almost hesitant. "Okay."

The light made his head throb. The walls were bleach white, grand, almost touching the sky from how it stretched itself to heaven and hell. In front of them, etched in alchemic symbols and letters, was a gate. Whatever was behind it, Roy didn't want to find out. And at the base, where the air smelt rancid, laid Barry's body in a smear of its own blood, Barry looking down at it, stiff and unmoving.

Barry turned to them. "Took you guys long enough. I thought I was gonna leave here all by my lonesome self."

Walking forward, Roy scrunched his nose, biting his tongue before the urge to throw up took hold. "Dammit, that was one of our leads too."

Barry tapped the blunt edge against the body's calf, pushing and pulling at it out of what seemed to be boredom. "Sucks for you but have some sympathy for me. My body's rotting to hell." His armor seemed to rattle at that. "Those bastards put someone else's soul in my body. Guess it didn't take well to its new occupant."

Knowing the circumstances with the brothers and the semantics of soul-binding, it wasn't surprising to hear it again. And yet, Roy found himself curious, almost horrifyingly so. "You're meaning to tell us that a soul could be rejected at any time?"

"Heh, that's right," Barry said. "The body and soul were in conflict with each other. No wonder it's in poor condition."

Roy frowned, taking another sour look at the decaying body, at how it looked uncanny to the many bodies he had killed — with the same skin, the same smell, the same lack of life. There was a time limit to Alphonse. Of course there was. Nothing could ever be easy for them, and it was the most bullshit thing he knew to be true.

"Well, looks like we have a party in here, hm?"

Roy turned and caught the eye of a woman, dressed in black, hair almost wrapping her in night. And her eyes, he couldn’t stop looking at them, for they were the color of red — cold and crisp as the blood on the floor.

Barry cackled. “Nice to see you caught up, Lusty. We were just about to leave.”

“Number sixty-six!” Her voice too. Cold and unyielding. “I see...so they used you as bait, and I fell for it.”

Roy kept his eye on her, gun pointed dead-center where her heart was. “Barry, care to explain who this woman is?”

“That doesn’t concern you.” The woman kept walking forward, enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “I’m here to take care of some business, and I’m not a fan of men who snoop into such things.”

A small gasp behind him. “Lieutenant, she has—!”

“I see it.” Roy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need much to believe you’re one of them.” He kept note of her eyes, at how they didn’t flinch nor close. As if she was in a joke of her own, one where only she was a part of. “A homunculi, right?”

She didn’t even looking at him. “Number sixty-six, why did you help the colonel?”

Barry cackled, giving a shrug. “What can I say? I gotta be me! You’d think I want to kiss up to you guys and hide for the rest of eternity when I could be chopping up to my heart’s content? I can’t even stalk around Central unless you bozos plan to drop me in guard duty again.” His knife glinted, thrusted out in pride. “The only way I can be free is if you’re all dead. But above all—” He hurtled toward her. “—I want to chop you to pieces!”

In an instant, pieces of scrap littered the floor in deafened thuds. The silence took hold, gripped them like a vice. Roy gritted his teeth, going cold at the sight. She destroyed him, with no hesitation. "You monster."

"You had to stick your nose into things out of your control," she tutted. Her fingers were sharp as daggers, receding back from the punctured metal. "I've no choice but to keep the silence. Killing two human sacrifices is quite a pain."

"Human sacrifices?" Al gasped.

Sacrifices? Killing? Roy stared at her, narrowing his eyes as he waited, listening, blood starting to pound in his ears. Was it? It could. "So, entertain us for a second. One of your candidates wouldn't happen to go by the name of Maes Hughes, would it?"

Her glossed lips quirked up. "No. I've met him before however. An intelligent man, strong-willed too. It's too bad that his curiosity killed him in the e—"

Roy shot her in the chest. The sound ringed in his ears, left his blood pumping when her form jolted, slick with red, but was left standing regardless.

"No need to be so merciless." Her smile was cruel. She hid so much information that could be vital to their cause, and she was just smiling at him. "I told you what you wanted."

"That doesn't explain who are the sacrifices," he calmly stated. He directed the gun again, now at her legs. "Speak up."

"My you're persistent." She looked over at Alphonse. "One of them is standing right beside you."

Alphonse stood his ground. "Me?"

"You and another. Now, who shall I kill first?" She looked at them, fingers seeming to grow more and more, readied by her command. "The sacrifice? Or do I have to send the lieutenant back to his colonel?"

Another shot rang out. The woman got onto her knees, shuddering forth in shock. And Roy didn't hesitate to shoot her again.

And again. 

And again. 

He showered her with bullet holes, with red sparks and metal, and as his fingers burned, his ears screamed, and the heat in his head scorched, everything in his mind yelled at him to kill.

[peachyteabuck]

enemy of my enemy is my lover

summary: you planned on just going to a meeting with an adversary, hoping to gain more territory in the process. you left with something much, much better. 

pairing: mobster!bucky barnes x mobster!reader

words: 3,226

trigger warnings: smut (oral - f recieving and vaginal sex), mob dynamics

notes/other: this was inspired by ask received by @bucky-plums-barnes a long, long time ago about a mobster!bucky headcanon that describes the plot to this fic. while i could not find the exact ask (trust me, i tried), i credit the anonymous genius & gen heavily for inspiring this. thank you both!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Each step you make is loud, sharp; the sound of heels clicking against the cold, cracked cement of New York City. It’s something, one of the things, that makes you powerful – sends this thick feeling of invulnerability through your veins, as if you’re some deity returning to her alter.

That feeling – one of untouchable power – has always been…sort of…hard for you to conjure. It’s not like you’re not not powerful in this world absent your fantasies. You run the second most powerful mob in the country! You’ve got a large pull in international trade! You’ve got major influence in congress and almost every state senate! You’ve got money, a smoking hot and super amazing boyfriend, and loyal coworkers. What else do you need?

Regardless of all that, roaming the streets at night never fails to send a special kind of shiver crawling across your skin. It’s a particular type of fear, one that makes you pull your steel grey coat closer to you as you roam the street, makes your hand cling tighter to the .45 in your deep, righthand pocket.

As you reach the alley where the deal you’re brokering is supposed to take place, your phone buzzes a few times in a row. You have an urge to check it, to make sure the man you love is okay, but letting your guard down now wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got to keep a keen mental sharpness about you to make sure no one kidnaps you (or worse) or fucks you over at your own deal, but still, the only person who would be texting you at this godforsaken hour is the man you left at home, and in this business you can never be too careful about the ones you care deeply about…

Your thoughts are interrupted (quite rudely, you might add), by the sound of a thick winter coat shuffling – as if someone were to be rolling their sleeves up. The noise of the fabric gets louder as the person – a man, you soon realize – steps closer. A man with sharp cheekbones and a dark beard and beautiful, pillowy lips.

His gaze, even under the dark baseball cap that lacks insignia, seems hauntingly familiar. You can’t place it, and it seems rude to ask if you’ve met before, given the circumstances. Still…something seems…recognizable about this mystery man.

You don’t realize it, though, until the man opens his mouth and asks about the new baby seal in the San Francisco zoo. It’s the right code, that’s not what throws you. Rather, it’s the gravely voice of the man you’ve been dating for years that stops you in your tracks.

“Bucky!?” you call out, completely confused and abandoning the correct coded response. “Why are you out here?”

Bucky, now meeting your eyes, seems just as bewildered as you are. “I, uh…I’m….what, what are you doing here?”

You have no idea how to respond, mind too baffled to form words. “Wh…what…”

You step closer, carefully – as if he was some rabid cat you found behind your apartment building. His beautiful baby blues are wide, eyes narrowed – you gasp when you get close enough to smell the cologne, his cologne, the exact scent you bought him for Christmas the year previous. “Are…are you…you’re…are you the White Wolf?”

Bucky visibly steps back at the mention of the street name – the street name of the guy who runs the mob that (similar to yours) is based in New York and works in black market goods. He tries to hide his shock, just in case what he thinks is happening definitely isn’t happening. In all honesty, Bucky can’t tell which one would be worse. “And, you’re uh. You’re…um…are you….are you She-Devil?”

If you were disoriented before, you have no word to describe how much your brain is short-circuiting at the thought that this man – the man you love, has secretly been running not only a mob, but a rival mob, this entire time.

“Do…wait,” you shake your head to try and collect your exceptionally scattered thoughts. “Are you the guy who wanted to negotiate territory with me?”

Bucky hesitates for a second, body tense and reluctant to say anything. You’re both still, not daring move a muscle and the both of you stare each other down. It feels like an eternity before he does anything, your surprise only growing as a massive, shit-eating grin spreads across his gorgeous, scruffy face.

It’s a look you know well, one you’ve come to both love and despise. It’s the same look he gave you when he told you he wanted to build (not pay someone else to build, build himself) a deck in a house you moved out of two months later, when he almost got a face tattoo, when he sold your house (you know, the one he wanted to build a deck for) to buy one three streets away. That’s the look he get when some grand idea that will probably turn out to be a disaster – the look that says “this may be a disaster, but the only way to see if it is will be to try it.”

In an instant, Bucky closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. As he arms wrap around you, you can feel him rub at the small of your back, just as he always does when he’s trying to keep you calm. “Yeah, babygirl. That’s me. I’m the White Wolf.”

You press your face in the warm embrace of his coat, muffling your speech. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky shrugs as he answers. “Didn’t want you to feel unsafe, I guess. Didn’t want you to worry about me.” He presses a kid to the top of your head. “Better question, why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, your small voice becoming even tinier. “I dunno…same reasons as you, I guess. Felt like I’d be dragging you into something you wouldn’t want to deal with.”

Bucky barks a laugh into the night, the sound reverberating off the tall buildings. “Seems reasonable.”

You pull away but refuse to make eye contact as tears well in your eyes and cloud your vision. For a mob leader, you’re very emotional. “Baby, are you sure? Like, are you sure this is okay? I mean, we kept this major part of our lives from each for literal years…like, does that say something about us as a couple? And we’re, like, rivals, we’re supposed to be competing against each other for money and goods and ports and clients and-“

Bucky cuts into your anxious ramblings by pulling you back into a tight bug. “Hey, hey! Baby, listen. This is a good thing! A great one, if you want it to be!”

You wipe at your nose with your hand. “Are you…what do you, are you sure? What do you mean?”

Bucky nods, eyes ablaze with excitement for the future. “Of course, baby, listen. Separate, our mobs are both powerful, right? We can agree on that. But together? With the territory, the influence, us...together, we could rule the fucking world.”

Technically, he isn’t wrong; with your strategy and Bucky’s brutal execution, your combined business could easily become the apex predator of the mob scene within the Western hemisphere. What Bucky had, you lacked, and vice versa. You’d studied his…business…for years (before you knew it was Bucky who ran the Pack, of course) as you climbed the ranks of your own mob. You know they have hands in several international black markets, have relationships with lots of lots of rich people who do lots and lots of bad things and pay lots and lots of money for those bad things.

Oh God, you’d never think being power-hungry and love drunk could feel so good. Your mind fogs over with all the things you could do if you had Bucky and his gang by your side, you could do anything. Simply by territory you’d be outgunning Hydra, let alone the combined wealth and human capital. You’ve never felt this exhilarated before in your life, the freezing night air electrifying your rib cage and-

Bucky and you grin madly. Wordlessly, you clasp hands and walk back to your shared apartment halfway across town. Both of you are silent until you’re safely inside your secured home. As you pull your hair up into a messy ponytail, Bucky began grabbing bowls for dinner.

“You know-” he said as he ladled soup out of the deep red Crock Pot. “Now that we aren’t desperately trying to hide our occupations from each other, we can move into a bigger house?’ Bucky says it like a question, but you know better.

Normally you’d tell him “no, of course we can’t do that, we can’t afford it.” But now that you both know that you’re each hiding hundreds of millions of dollars in offshore accounts, slush funds, and dummy corporations throughout the world…

“Sure,” you shrug. “Why not.”

Bucky grins like a child on Christmas. “If we’re gonna rule, we need the proper palace.”

You forego giving into Bucky’s terrible, awful joke to hang up your studded coat, to take off your business casual navy-blue pants and black button-up in, and change into a pair of workout shorts and some tie-dye hoodie you thrifted about ten years ago. Bucky calls them your “thinking clothes,” attire you wear specifically to center yourself, to clear your mind of everything except the task at hand.

During dinner, you and Bucky begin to plan how you can consolidate assets, personnel, jobs, and everything that comes with heading mobs. It’s a long talk, one that lasts long into the night and ends with hastily-drawn diagrams and maps strewn around your living room.

It takes hours and way too many pots of coffee, but eventually the plan for the merger is laid out in front of you – all the graphs and math and official language handwritten in your neat cursive (along with a few notes scrawled by Bucky) on over twenty sheets of pristine printer paper.

Bucky sighs happily when he sees it all finished. He’s standing, desperate for a bird’s eye view of the entire thing.

You, on the other hand, are much too tired to stand. You settle for, “How does it look, babe?” as you draw two lines for each of your signatures below both of your full names.

When you look up, you see Bucky – eyes twinkling with joy. “It looks…,” he sighs, happily. “Amazing. I love you so much.”

You giggle, drawing lines for a few witnesses (you’ll make a few of your associates sign tomorrow). “I love you, too, babe. Now, you still got that champagne from our visit to France?”

Somewhere between the front room and the wine fridge, Bucky had you pinned against the wall and was cupping your clothed pussy.

“While I think you look great,” Bucky murmurs against the hot skin of your neck. “You’re wearing just a little too much for me.”

In an instant he tears the skimpy shorts from your body, the sound of ripping fabric making you moan;

“Fuck,” you gasp as one digit, then another enters you. “Holy shit that feels good.”

Bucky pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, smiling as he watches your jaw slacken from the pleasure. “Yeah? You like that?”

If you could speak you would, but each word just comes out as a breathy moans. Your first orgasm hits you like a wave, Bucky pulling it from you with crooked fingers and his lips on yours.

When you come down Bucky carries you to the bed, undressing himself as you do the same.

He pulls you to the end of the bed by your ankles, pushing your legs up to your chest. He enters you easily – bottoming out within a few thrusts.

You and Bucky moan into each other’s mouths as he fucks into you.

“Oh God,” he groans, moving to kiss at your neck. “Holy shit!”

He rubs at your clit with the thumb of one hand as he bites bruises in your collarbones, desperate to hear the symphony of sweet sighs and deep moans as you near another peak.

“Come on baby,” Bucky murmurs into your lips. “Come on, cum around my cock for me.”

It doesn’t take much after that – a few more circles around your clit in time with his thrusts and soon you’re scream and nearly tears the sheets from how tight you’re gripping them and your whole body convulses from pleasure.

Bucky finishes himself onto your stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as he does so.

He takes a minute to collect himself, still panting as he grabs a tissue to clean you off.

After water and a snack (two granola bars you had stuffed into your bedside drawer an unknowable amount of months ago), you curl into Bucky’s chest, tracing the litany of tattoos there. “Weren’t we supposed to drink to celebrate?”

Bucky lets out a full belly laugh. “Probably. But the alcohol is all the way downstairs. Plus, I know something else I can drink to celebrate?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Only you? Why don’t I get to get drunk?”

Bucky just smirks, moving you off of him. You’re about to protest but begin to understand once he pushes the covers off the both you to make room for himself between your legs.

“Trust me,” he tells you, leaving kisses on your skin between every few words. “You’ll love this a lot more than any old champagne.”

And, of course, he was right.

The next day, you meet with your closest adversaries. While you two wait in the conference room in the building Bucky took over after it was condemned a couple years back, you can feel your heart ram into your ribcage. It’s less from anxiety and more from anticipation, knowing you might face major backlash from the people you trust the most.

The first to arrive is the woman you trust the most in this world: Natasha. She doesn’t move towards the table, simply stands just inside the doorway while staring you down. She doesn’t recognize Bucky, but doesn’t enjoy being below the eyeline of a man she’s never seen before.

“Natasha,” you say, desperate to remain calm. “This is Bucky. We’ve been together for five years. And he’s the leader of the Pack.”

In a fashion much atypical for Natasha Romanoff, her eyes widen slightly. “Oh…” she says after a long while. “Okay then.”

She promptly sits down with no further questions.

As with many business, heads and second-in-commands of mobs rarely come face to face. They have goons, messengers that do their footwork. Descriptions of the faces belonging those in charge pass around akin to rumors, only whispered quieter.

Which is why, when Steve comes in, he has no idea what to think until Bucky introduces you and Natasha.

By the time Bucky’s finished talking, Steve’s beat red. “Buck, what the fuck is this.”

���Just,” Bucky sighs, worried about his phrasing and angering his best friend on the face of the planet (whether that be Steve, for reasons that feel obvious, or you, for reasons that feel even more obvious). “Sit down. We’ll explain-“

“’We’ll!’” Steve nearly screams.

Bucky is the only one who flinches at the sudden loud noise. You finish his sentence for him. “Yes. Bucky and I will explain.”

Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like taking orders from a rival. Still, he sits at the large, oval conference table opposite Natasha.

The last two people to come in are the head of you and Bucky’s legal departments. Wanda gives you a single nod before sitting next to Natasha, a man Bucky addresses as “Tony” sits next to Steve.

You exhale deeply once the metaphorical dust settles, encouraging Bucky to begin the spiel he had prepared last night been orgasms four and five.

“Alright. We have,” he sighs. “We have decided to combine our two…”  Bucky struggles to find the right word. He worries for bugs and secret agents and misunderstandings, brain always struggling to remember that this is sacred, secret business. Any crack in any of the numerous protective facades could mean its downfall, along with the loss of billions of dollars and his life.

“Entrepreneurial endeavors,” you finish for him.

You hear Natasha snort, amused by the avoidance of saying gang and mob and illegal distributor of goods. The rest of your cohort are silent, unsure of what to say next.

Each beat of verbal inaction leaves you more fearful than the last, your heart getting louder and louder in your ears.

For what feels like forever, no one says anything.

Though, with the pounding of blood in your ears, they could be screaming obscenities at you and you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

The only thing that seems able to quiet the noise is Bucky’s fingers intertwining with yours.

Only then do you hear Wanda speak, her accent tinging each word. It’s comforting, to hear something so familiar.

“I assume you both have drawn up something that,” she eyes the man across from her with a look dusted with disdain. “Tony and I can look at.”

Bucky slides the thick document, held together in a beat-up binder you found under a bookshelf, across the table. Wanda is the one who stops it and looks into it first.

She says nothing, holding her tongue as she allows Tony to eye the document. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and pushes them to the corner of his nose as thumbs through it, looking bored and tired.

“Yeah, this shit looks good,” Tony says quickly, shoving the dark glasses back over his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

The resounding silence continues until you break it yourself, attempting to detail for Steve and Natasha what it all means. They listen diligently and sign where needed, Natasha being decided on as the most likely to type it up into an official document and send it to the necessary parties.

Once it’s all over, you and Bucky ride down in the big, glass elevator together – excitement electric in the air.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks. It doesn’t seem to be out of concern, even if tears of happiness are pricking at your eyes.

“God,” you tell him, voice breathy and ecstatic. “I don’t even know how to describe it. I just, I don’t know. I’ve been so terrified I’d have to hide this forever – or that you’d find out, or that someone would figure out who you were. And now…I just,” you wipe at your eyes, and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know you’re protected. And I don’t have to hide this from you. And I’m so fucking happy about it.”

Bucky kisses the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. “Oh, baby. Darling I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

The two of you stand in silence, holding each other until you have to exit. Neither of you say anything until you’re both in the car, safely on your way back to your shared home.

“We’re in this together right?” you ask, looking at Bucky as he keeps his dark eyes on the road.

Regardless he smiles, moving his right hand from the wheel to rest on your knee. “Always, baby. Always.”

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 8)

Warnings: none really. Some bad language. Maybe a bit of angst. I needed an Esme chapter for character building purposes before I get into the past chapters.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @hemmyworthy @alievans007

Esme watches him; the way he stands thirty meters away with his arms crossed over his chest and a pair of Ray-bans covering his eyes. He stands out like a sore thumb. A peculiar site among a street crawling with folks in swimsuits and other summer gear.  The sun beating down on that simple yet surprisingly stylish black suit, the heat and humidity causing beads of sweat to gather on his forehead, at his temples, and on his top lip.  She both envies and feels sorry for him.  Envies the fact he hasn't yet seen the real heartache and the real darkness that comes with the job. He hasn't had the demons and ghosts settle in yet.

And that's what makes her sad. Because it is inevitable.  Somewhere down the road his eagerness to live up to a legend will lead him in the right direction but into the entirely wrong place. And he won't be the same kid that he is right now.  Anxious.  Scared to make a mistake. Wanting to impress.  Dreaming of the missions of guts and glory and seemingly endless brutality. Right now he finds it glamorous. They all did at one point.  But one day he'll wake up and realize just how fucked up it all was.  He'll look back on the places he'd been and the things he'd done and he'll wonder why the hell he'd ever been so eager to get into the trenches in the first place.

She'd been there. She WAS there. And it eats at you. It chews you up and it spits you out. And the memories come back so fast and so hard that there's times you pray...beg...that the ground will open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

“You can sit down you know,” she calls to him.  She admires the determination. She's sure there's a little bit of fear he'll fuck up and get his ass handed to him because of it. But he's steadfast. A rock. Even if he does look like a secret service agent.  “I don't mind. I could use the company.”

He regards her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. She imagines he looks like a deer caught in the headlights right about now.

“I don't bite,” she assures him. Although her husband would beg to differ. He'd been at the receiving end of more than a few during their often rough and uninhibited love making sessions. Teeth marks like war wounds on his shoulders, neck, even the insides of his thighs.

He takes a step towards her.  Then hesitates.

“Are you being serious right now? Look, you're making me extremely nervous right now and people are getting suspicious. If you're going to be watching someone...if you're going to be someone's detail...you have to less conspicuous about it. If there was a bad guy around, they would have made you about ten minutes ago. Sit down. It's hot out. Get into the shade.”

He finally relents.  Crossing the promenade in two long strides, unbuttoning his suit jacket before sitting down across from her.  A waitress scurrying over to take his order.

“We come here a lot,” Esme says. “It's one of our favourites. The coffee is strong and the food is good and the people watching is A plus. You'd be surprised the weird and funny shit you see when you actually sit back and pay attention.   Sometimes I even come here by myself. When Tyler has his own shit to do or he's at the doctor's or at the shrink. He won't let me go with him to those things.  He says it makes him nervous.  That he's too busy worrying about what he might say and that means he won't actually say it.  So the baby and I will come here. Just hang out.  Forget about everything else in our lives for a while.”

“Shrink? What...?”

“You talk about wanting to fill those shoes. Believe me, those are shoes that are probably best left empty.  Don't go down that road kid. I know you admire him. I know you've heard the stories. You've seen the numbers. And it's impressive and it's bad ass and it's something you want to emulate. I get it. I do.  He's my husband and I admire him. But this isn't the life you want. This is not how you want to end up.  Because it fucks you up and it haunts you.  For the rest of your life. And if you're not strong enough, it will eat you alive. It takes no prisoners. Unless you're prepared for all of that, don't go following down anyone else's path.”

He nods slowly, considering her words.  Then smiles at the waitress when she returns with his coffee.

“But that's just words from someone who has been in the game. Who is living with the after effects. So I won't be offended if you tell me to  gofuck myself.”

His eyes widen. “I'd never say something like that to you, Mrs Rake.”

She laughs at that.  It makes her feel so old; Mrs Rake. It's so mature and so formal and it seems as if it should belong to someone twice her age.  But it's who she is now. It is part of her identity. Someone's wife, someone's mother. And they were the two greatest roles she'd ever been fortunate enough to play in her entire life.

“What's your name?” she asks.  

“Jason, ma'am. Jason Andrews.”

“Well Jason Andrews, it's nice to meet you. I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances. I was a bit more likeable a year ago.”

“I think you're likeable enough just fine, ma'am.”

She laughs, pushing her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “Ma'am? Just how old do you think I am?”

“My mother always told me to never ask a woman her age or never even gather a guess. I'll have to plead the fifth.”

“You're from the south, aren't you.”

“Yes, ma'am.  Just a tad east of North Orleans.”

“I haven't been there in years.  University was a wild time.  Trips down to Mardis Gras. Back when I had less gray hair and people still called me Miss instead of M''am.  It's Esme, by the way. But I'm sure you already knew that.”

He nods in confirmation.  

“You can call me by name, you know.  It doesn't have to be so formal. This is some unprecedented shit you've gotten yourself mixed up in. I'm pretty sure that means we can move on to first names.”

“Nik has told me a lot about you,” he informs her. “A lot about the both of you.  You're from Colorado?”

“Snowmass. About fifteen miles from Aspen. Just a little place. All of twenty five hundred people.  Or at least that's what it was when I left. There's probably more now.”

“You haven't been home in a while?”

“I had a place there.  A house.  A quaint little thing with a porch swing and a fire pit in the backyard. My brother lives there now. With his wife and his kids.  He took it over once I decided I wasn't going back.  But I haven't been home, home, in just shy of six years. You know, family dinners on a late Sunday afternoon,  coffee on my folks' porch,  watching my nieces and nephews playing.  Life just got away from me. The job just took hold. IT became who I was as opposed to something I did.  Life got away from me.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but that's kind of....sad.”

“It is what it is,” she reasons. “Those are the choices I made.  I knew there was no going back...truly going back...when I made them. And then I took the job with Nik and I ended up in Dhaka and now...well here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echoes, a sense of sadness creeping into his voice. “You were military?”

“Once. The Marines”

“My older brother is a jar head. A gunnery sergeant.  Forgive me for saying this and I mean no disrespect, but you don't seem the type. You don't really fit the picture of what people have when they think of the Marines.  And you definitely don't seem to be the type to be involved in the job.”

“I guess that was my greatest weapon of all.  People looked at me and would never think...in a million years....that I was capable of doing the things I've done.  It's not one size, fits all. There's a lot of us that don't look the part. Sometimes that's good when it comes to the job. You blend in. People aren't suspicious of you. Half the time they don't give you a second glance.  It worked in Dhaka. I gained peoples' trust.  I got them to open up.  It worked until it didn't work.  And once that happened...” she sighs. “...well let's just say that it went way worse than anyone expected.”

“I've heard the stories. People like to talk. I'm not sure how many of the things I've heard are actually true.”

“When it went bad, it went extremely bad.  It happened so quick. We didn't even have time to catch our breath.  One minute we're making friends with the locals and the next we're running for our lives. No one expected it to go as horrible as it did.  I mean, you go into things expecting and fearing the worst. But that...” she runs the palms of her hands along the sides of her glass of iced tea. “...that was way worse than anything I ever imagined.”

“And now you're going back.”

“And now I'm going back,” she concedes, and then clears her throat noisily.  “Trust me when I say that it isn't a place I thought I'd ever return to. I thought that was behind me.  I needed it to be behind me.   But want and need are two entities of their own.  What my heart wanted and what my brain allowed are two entirely different things. I realize that while I physically put it behind me, mentally I've been hanging onto it.  Mentally I never left. If that makes sense.”

“Yes, m'am...Esme...it makes perfect sense.”

She noisily clears her throat, slides the sunglasses back down onto her face. “You have family? Other than an older brother?”

“A younger sister.  She's still in high school.  She wants to be a nurse.”

“Your folks?”

“Still alive. They've been together since high school.  You?”

“My father died when I was a teenager. My mom is still kicking. She remarried a about ten years ago. My step dad's a good guy. Ex Army. He still has the hair cut, the swagger, the stories.  We call him The Sarge,” she smiles at that. Fond memories of a man that had come into her life and filled a role that had been missing since those difficult teenage years.  “He treats her well. They're happy. They're the disgustingly content retired couple that owns two Harleys,  a motor home, and like to visit Graceland.  The type that has 'my grand kids are better than yours' bumper stickers. It's been a while since I've seen them...”

Her voice drifts off, recalling all the earlier times. The easier times. When all that mattered was bush parties and hanging out with friends and the fights and good natured ribbing that occurred between siblings.  

“...one day I'd like to go back,” she continues  “I'd like to see them again. I'd like to sit across the table from Sarge and have him light into me about my tattoos and my piercings.  I'd like to sit with my mom on the front porch; sipping sweet tea and eating her homemade peach pie.  I'd like to see my little sister graduate from high school.  Be the one that takes her to college and helps her move into residence.  And I'd especially like to see my brothers and their families again.  Hug and kiss my nieces and nephews. Meet the ones I haven't got a chance to.”

“You have a lot?”

“Fourteen,” she confirms. “My brothers wasted no time. They're baby making factories.”

“What about your baby?”

“They haven't met her. At least not in person. I send pictures. We do face time chats. That type of thing. I didn't even tell them I was having a baby until she was almost here.”

“Why not?”

“Things weren't easily explained.  Things were messy. Complicated.  They were still reeling over the fact that I had run off and gotten married without telling any of them. I'm the first daughter. My mom was super pissed that she didn't get that whole mother of the bride experience. She felt robbed. And I can understand that.  It's not an easy pill to swallow.  Your first girl running off and meeting some random guy and deciding to settle down in Australia and never coming home.  It's a lot for them to digest. And they don't even know the whole truth of it.”

“Why not?”

“Do your parents know about the job? Do they really know about it?”

“Just that I do security detail for a private company.”

“My parents thought I went into business when I left the corps.  Because that's what I told them.  I told them I was making a career change. One that would have me travelling a lot.  It was a half truth, I guess.  But they couldn't handle all of it. How do you tell your folks something like that? That your new skill set includes rescuing some and killing others? You don't. You don't tell them that. You make up some shit that will be easier on them.  They think I came here on a business trip, met some guy and never came back. That's pretty much it.  They know his name, what he looks like, his age. But they think he's in law enforcement. They think he was in an accident and I stayed here to help him through it and this is where I made my life.  It seemed so much easier when I first told them all that. Now I realize just how fucked up it actually is. Not that I lied to them. We all lie. Some more than others. But why I had to lie.  Why I had to cover  it up.  It's screwed up.  I'm screwed up. This whole thing is screwed up. And you know what the worst part is? There's no easy way out of this. No matter what I tell them or how I tell them, it will be messy.  They're going to hear things they don't like. And I'm worried they're going to hate me.”

“Parents could never hate their kids.  It isn't in their nature. Could you ever hate your daughter?”

“No. I can't imagine I ever could.”

“Your folks could never hate you.  They'd probably be surprised at the truth.”

“Probably? They would be.  The truth is stranger than fiction. At least in this situation.”

“But hate you? No. I don't think that could ever happen.”

She stares down at the amber coloured liquid in her glass, tracing a finger tip on the side, making patterns in the condensation.

She hopes he is right.

[nightofnyx8]

I’d Still Choose You (Part 1)

Well, I didn’t exactly participate in Dickkory week because well, life happened. But I did want to create something to celebrate these two, so I wrote this little short story for this week. It has three parts, and this is the first (and probably the longest). I post the other two parts...mmm, later. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Let me know what you think!

*****************************************

“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.”

-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

*****************************************

Dick Grayson paced quickly around the cramped, stuffy room, running his hands nervously through his hair. She had been in there too long.

“Dick, will you sit down?” Garfield called down from the coach. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“It’s been two hours, Gar. Something’s not right.”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Rachel chimed in. “There’s no point in worrying when we don’t have all the facts yet.”

The large oak doors opened, and Alfred stepped out.

“Master Dick, Miss Kory is—”

But he was already running past Alfred, into the small room that had been the established “hospital” in Wayne Manor for as long as he could remember. There she was, her beautiful crimson hair spreading out on the pillows like a fan.

“Kory!” He ran to her and stroked her hair away from her eyes—eyes that held confusion and surprise. Taking her face in his hands, he sighed in relief to see the woman he loved alive and well. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He pulled her gently towards him for a kiss, but she shrieked and backed away, her green orbs now filled with fear.

“Kory, are you alright?” He gripped the edge of the bed, panic rising in his chest. “It’s just me.”

And then she stared at him in a way she never had before, almost…almost as if he were a complete stranger.

“Who are you?”

*****************************************

“I don’t understand, how can she not remember me?” Dick sat in the back of the examination room, the neuroimages of Kory’s brain projected on the screen.

“Physically, she’s perfectly fine.” Clark responded, musing at the images.

"Agreed.” Bruce stated from the back. “No broken bones, no internal trauma. But it’s her brain that’s been affected.”

Dick wasn’t really sure why Superman was at the Batcave, but given the circumstances at the moment he didn’t really care.

“What’s wrong with her brain? Did she hit her head?”

“We’re not sure.” Bruce responded. “But something definitely happened between when she was kidnapped by the Psions and before you rescued her.”

“Well then, fix it.” He got up impatiently, making his way to the side of the window, watching the sun rise over the orchards that surrounded the estate. He didn’t want to hear whatever lecture Bruce would give next.

“Dick, you know it’s not that easy.” Bruce’s voice didn’t sound angry this time. “The brain is very complicated and unpredictable.”

The doors opened to reveal Rachel running in, Gar at her tail. Dick had to only take one look at her expression to know whatever news she had wasn’t good.

“Rachel, what happened?” Clark stepped off the platform and drew up a chair. Rachel sat down, holding her head in her hands.

“I was able to look into her mind.” She said quietly. “It’s…it’s bad. There’s a dark hole in her mind, meaning she’s literally lost all of her memories from her time on Earth. The last memory her mind holds is being taken by the Gordanians from Tameran.”

“But, Rachel.” Dick stepped away from the window to meet her. “That was ten years ago.”

“I know.” She said sadly. “She doesn’t know who any of us are on Earth.”

Bruce turned back towards the computer monitors, his expression contemplative. “If she had lost all of her memory from the past ten years, then why can she still understand English? Wouldn’t have she forgotten that as well?”

“That’s the weird part. She remembers the language, what things are called, even where certain places are. Her knowledge is perfectly intact, but her memory is completely gone.”

Dick steadied himself on the back of Rachel’s chair. “Can you bring at least some of them back?’

Rachel shook her head. “I can only do that in minor cases. And even if I did have that power, there’s nothing I could do. Our minds can hold memories in the deep subconscious, and sometimes I can bring them to the surface. But with Kory’s mind it’s different. There’s nothing there. Just a big, dark, empty blank.”

“Nothing there.” Dick repeated, letting the words hang over them.

“Yes.” She stated dejectedly. “Which means whatever happened was deliberate. Whoever or whatever took her memories didn’t want her to get them back.”

*****************************************

The great clock in the grand hallway struck seven o’clock as Dick made his way to the hospital room. He didn’t care if they all said it was impossible. He wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing. He had to see her again.

He stopped as he reached the door, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t lose her, not like this. He knocked softly then stepped into the occupied room. She was sitting upright in the bed and looking out the window, the fading light turning her hair to fire.

“Hey.” He stated simply. He didn’t want to scare her this time.

She turned to look at him and he felt his voice catch in his throat. What was he supposed to say now? He took a step towards her. “How are you feeling?”

“I am well.” She looked understandable tense.

“Hey um…look, maybe we could start over?” He held out his hand. “I’m—”

“Dick.” She stated emphatically. “The one called Alfred has informed me of who you are.”

Dick.

Never had she called him that. She had always preferred his full name, and she was the only person besides his own mother that he had allowed to do so.

“Yeah.” He choked out. “Did Alfred mention anything else?”

She looked down at her left hand, the wedding bands wrapped around her finger gleaming slightly in the afternoon light.

“We are…married?”

He felt his chest tighten. “Yes. It’ll be three years this December.”

She took a deep breath, letting the silence suffocate the room.

“How long have I been here on this strange planet?” She finally said. “The last I remember…I was on Tameran.”

“Ten years.” He replied, leading to another long silence. Kory looked as though she had forgotten how to breathe.

“I have to go back.” She said suddenly, flinging herself out of the bed. “My people need me! I cannot just stay here and…and…”

“Kory!” Dick caught her as she stumbled to the ground, clutching at her head. “You’re not well enough to stand, calm down. Your planet’s safe, I promise.”

“But my planet is under attack!”

“No, listen. Tameran’s fine. It’s safe. You appointed your K'norfka Galfore as the Grand Ruler a while ago. You don’t need to worry about it, just please lay back down, Kory.” 

She looked up at him, her glowing orbs absent of the happiness that normally occupied them.

“Why do you call me that?”

“What?”

“Kory. It is not my name.”

“Oh well,” How to explain this? “I guess it’s what your friends call you here on Earth. I know your name, Koriand’r. I guess I’ve always just shortened it.”

She sighed, falling back onto the bed. She put her head in her hands, Dick kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“I do not know what to do. I do not even know my own name anymore.” She sobbed. He sat down next to her and put his hand around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him in comfort. She stiffened, drawing back. She locked eyes with his, her gaze tinged with doubt.

“I am…sorry.” She stated. “I know we are, together. But I—”

“It’s okay.” He said quietly. He felt like an elephant was standing on his chest. But he removed his arm and brought in down awkwardly at his side.

“I uh, I thought you might like this.” He pulled out a large photo album, well-worn with use.

“It’s pictures of you, of us, of everyone here. Maybe it’ll jog your memory a bit.”

She took it with hesitation, letting her curiosity win out in the end. She flipped through each picture, staring at photos of herself. He stayed silent and looked at the pictures with her, from their first days at the Titans Tower, to missions with the Justice League, late nights at the carnival, playing on the beach with their friends…

She pulled out a photo from one of the slots. She stared with interest to the woman in white, smiling brightly next to Dick on the happiest day of his life.

“I look happy.” She noted.

“You were.” He blurted out. “You said you wished you could pause that moment forever.”

“I did?” She questioned. “I...I do not remember.”

She closed the book and tried to give it back to him, but he pushed it gently towards her.

“Keep it.” He said. “It’s really yours anyway.”

The afternoon light had faded into twilight, the moon rising slowly outside the large window.

“It’s getting late. We should probably be getting you home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, our home.”

She bit her lip. “Listen, Dick. I know this is difficult for you as well, but…I need time.”

“It’ll probably help you get your memory back faster. You do want that, right?”

She looked down, and Dick felt his heart sink. Of course she would be uncomfortable. And he wouldn’t make her. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said, getting up from the bed. “I’m sure Alfred wouldn’t mind you staying here for another night.”

She nodded. “He is very kind. I feel…comfortable here.”

He smiled, turning to walk out the room. He stopped right before the door, looking back at her.

“Goodnight, Kory.” He said softly, letting her face illuminate his mind before he stepped out.

“Goodnight.” She answered back. She let out a small smile before the door closed softly, leaving her alone again.

*****************************************

The nightmare was all so familiar. He must have dreamt it a thousand times, continuously playing back the details. The eerie sound of the wire snapping, his mother’s scream, the last moments of a child’s innocence still hanging in the air.

He had woken up pale and sweaty. It had been a while since he had dreamed of them. No matter how many times the nightmare surfaced, it always took a while to breathe normally again.

His arm reached over to the other side of the bed, searching for the familiar warmth that always accompanied it. Nothing.

He turned over, finding the bed to be empty. Maybe she was in the bathroom, or just out on the—

Oh.

It took all but a few seconds for the events of the past day to come crashing down on him, the sight of her guarded eyes burned into his mind.

He did not sleep for the rest of the night, staring only to the other side of the bed that he used to share with the woman he loved.

[woodsens]

The Worst Advice We've Ever Heard About best portable keyboard

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens songs that she wrote over ten years in the past, the lady who arrived for being recognised only given that the piano teacher available what, in hindsight, looks like an eerie glimpse of her own upcoming.

Im going away now to a spot so far-off, where nobody understands my name, she wrote within the lyrics of the track referred to as Transferring.

When she wrote that tune, she was young and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance songs author who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, extensive walks and every little thing about New York.

On a kind of beloved walks, through Central Park in the bright Sunlight of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifetime. Once the attack, the words to her song arrived true. She moved absent, out of Ny city, from her previous daily life, and all but her closest good friends did not know her identify. To the remainder of the entire world, she was — just like the far more popular jogger attacked in Central Park seven decades before — an nameless image of an city nightmare. She was the piano teacher.

Now, to the tenth anniversary of the attack, she is celebrating what is apparently her entire recovery from brain trauma. She is 42, married, with a small child. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and he or she hopes to explain to her story, her way.

Her health care provider informed her it could choose a decade to Recuperate, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my existence has long been redefined by Central Park, she explained numerous days in the past, her voice delicate and hopeful. Right before park; following park. Will there ever be considered a time when I dont think, Oh, Here is the tenth anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch home within a wooded subdivision in a Ny suburb. She sat in the eating area strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-year-aged daughter. A Steinway grand loaded 50 % the place, and at one place she sat down and performed. Her enjoying was forceful, but she appeared humiliated to Enjoy more than a few bars, and shrugged, in lieu of answering, when questioned the name in the piece. She asked that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that day, June 4, 1996, the day After i was harm.

Hers was the primary inside of a string of assaults by the same male on four Ladies around 8 days. The last victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning shop, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to everyday living in jail.

Nevertheless the attack around the piano Instructor may be the 1 men and women feel to recall the most. Part of the fascination should do with echoes of the 1989 attack on the Central Park jogger. But Additionally, it frightened persons in a means the assault around the jogger did not for the reason that its situations ended up so mundane.

It did not take place inside of a remote A part of the park late during the night, but near a favorite playground at 3 from the afternoon. It might have happened to any individual. The tension was heightened because of the thriller of your piano lecturers id.

For 3 days, as law enforcement and Medical practitioners tried using to determine who she was, she lay inside of a coma in her medical center mattress, nameless. Her dad and mom have been on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Finally, one among her students recognized a police sketch and was able to discover her while in the healthcare facility by her fingers, simply because her confront was swollen past recognition. The police didn't launch her title.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Avenue, then Placing her prolonged hair in a very ponytail and heading out for a wander. She doesn't don't forget the attack, Even though she has read the accounts from the police and prosecutors.

To me its like a point I learned and memorized, she explained. As if I ended up a scholar in class researching record.

She will not take into consideration The person who did it. I may have been indignant to get a instant, but not much longer than that, she explained. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I assume by our specifications he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health care provider at Ny Hospital-Cornell Health-related Center, as it had been recognised in 1996, instructed reporters that she had a 10 p.c potential for survival. Medical doctors had to remove her forehead bone, which was later on replaced, to generate home for her swelling Mind. When her mother built a community appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Right after 8 times, she arrived away from a coma, initially in a very vegetative state, then in the childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept minimal and talked consistently, at times in gibberish. I was obtaining mad at people today if they didnt respond to these terms, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers client, she experienced minor brief-expression memory and would overlook visitors the moment they left the room.

Around various months, she needed to relearn the way to wander, dress, read and write. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented daily to play guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, in opposition to the advice of her physical therapists, who assumed she could be disappointed by her incapacity to Enjoy the best way she once experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets together with her, participating in the remaining-hand section while she performed the proper.

Which was my ideal therapy, she claimed.

In August, she moved back household to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited aged haunts and named good friends, trying to revive her shattered memory. I was very obsessed with remembering, she said. Any memory reduction was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced misplaced the chance to cry, as if a faucet inside her brain had been turned off. A single night time, 9 months immediately after she was hurt, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham movie A Time to Kill. Just soon after her father experienced gone to bed, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult men who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, as well as tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my mother and father, my father, and the things they went as a result of, she mentioned. Minor by little, my sensation returned, my depth of thoughts returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to school and acquired a masters degree in audio training.

Not every little thing went effectively. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years once the attack, nevertheless they remain close friends. She dated other men, but she usually told them concerning the assault without delay — she could not assist it, she claimed — and they under no circumstances identified as for just a next date.

We've to find you a person, her Mate David Phelps, a guitar participant, claimed four several years back, in advance of introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and beginner drummer. For the moment, she didn't say everything with regards to the assault until she bought to be aware of Mr. McCann, and after that when she did, he admired her energy.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced typically frequented her at her bedside while she was in the medical center, married them in his Times Sq. Business office. She wore a blue gown and pearls. Although she was Expecting, in a burst of creative imagination, she and her good friends recorded While Ended up Youthful, an album of childrens music that she experienced composed prior to the attack, including the track Shifting. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, created the CD. On it, her husband performs drums and he or she plays electric piano.

Is her everyday living as it had been? Not precisely, nevertheless she is hesitant to attribute the discrepancies to her accidents. Her previous two piano learners left her, without the need of calling to explain why, she reported. She has resumed participating in classical new music, but basic items, for the reason that her daughter would not give her time and energy to practice. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she stated.

She want to generate additional, sensation stranded from the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She tries to be material with remaining household and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological surgical treatment at exactly what is now termed New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Healthcare Center, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, explained last week that her amount of recovery was uncommon. Shes essentially normal, he said.

Other specialists, who're not personally aware of Ms. Kevorkian McCanns scenario, tend to be more cautious.

Regaining a chance to play the piano may well involve an almost mechanical approach, a semiautomatic remember of exactly what the fingers ought to do, mentioned Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of clinical rehabilitation drugs at The big apple College University of Medication. The moment brain-hurt, you might be normally brain-injured, for the rest of your lifetime, Dr. Ben-Yishay said. There isn't any cure, There's only intense payment.

The more telling A part of a Restoration, in his see, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and youngster as a significant victory.

For her part, the piano teacher knows she has improved, but she has built her peace with it. I was type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a kind A, but I had been bold, she claims. Why was I so formidable? I was a piano Instructor. I dont understand what the ambition was about. I actually did come back to the person Im purported to be.

[redkiteradio]

5 Laws Anyone Working in best beginner keyboard piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens songs that she wrote greater than ten years back, the lady who arrived being known only given that the piano teacher available what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her own upcoming.

Im relocating absent nowadays to a place so far-off, where by nobody understands my identify, she wrote inside the lyrics of a song named Going.

When she wrote that music, she was younger and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance songs writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Seems, lengthy walks and every little thing about New York.

On a kind of beloved walks, via Central Park in the intense sun of a June day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and tried to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifestyle. After the attack, the words and phrases to her tune came genuine. She moved away, outside of Ny city, from her previous everyday living, and all but her closest pals didn't know her identify. To the rest of the planet, she was — similar to the additional famed jogger attacked in Central Park seven a long time earlier — an nameless symbol of an urban nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, on the tenth anniversary in the attack, she's celebrating what is apparently her complete Restoration from brain trauma. She is 42, married, with a little boy or girl. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and she or he wants to inform her story, her way.

Her physician instructed her it could take a decade to Get well, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I really feel my life has long been redefined by Central Park, she reported several days ago, her voice gentle and hopeful. Before park; immediately after park. Will there at any time certainly be a time when I dont Imagine, Oh, This can be the tenth anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch house inside a wooded subdivision in the New York suburb. She sat in a dining area strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-calendar year-old daughter. A Steinway grand crammed half the home, and at just one level she sat down and performed. Her participating in was forceful, but she seemed humiliated to play more than a few bars, and shrugged, rather than answering, when asked the identify from the piece. She asked that her daughter and her city not be named.

She phone calls that day, June four, 1996, the working day After i was damage.

Hers was the 1st in a string of assaults by the same person on four Gals about 8 days. The last target, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was overwhelmed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and in the long run, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to lifestyle in prison.

Yet the attack about the piano Trainer will be the a person folks appear to keep in mind one of the most. A part of the fascination must do with echoes of your 1989 attack on the Central Park jogger. But What's more, it frightened persons in a method the assault on the jogger did not since its circumstances were so mundane.

It did not happen in the remote Component of the park late at night, but close to a popular playground at 3 from the afternoon. It might have took place to any individual. The strain was heightened via the secret with the piano lecturers identity.

For three times, as police and Medical doctors tried to see who she was, she lay in the coma in her hospital bed, nameless. Her parents were being on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Finally, one among her pupils regarded a police sketch and was in a position to discover her while in the clinic by her fingers, simply because her encounter was swollen beyond recognition. The law enforcement didn't release her name.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Street, then Placing her lengthy hair inside of a ponytail and likely out for any stroll. She doesn't try to remember the assault, Even though she has heard the accounts with the police and prosecutors.

To me its just like a fact I discovered and memorized, she said. Like I have been a university student in class researching heritage.

She doesn't consider the man who did it. I might have been indignant for just a minute, although not a lot longer than that, she said. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I guess by our expectations he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health practitioner at Big apple Medical center-Cornell Healthcare Heart, as it had been recognised in 1996, explained to reporters that she had a ten percent chance of survival. Medical practitioners experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, to generate place for her swelling Mind. When her mom manufactured a public appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Just after eight times, she came away from a coma, 1st in a vegetative point out, then in the childlike state. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked regularly, often in gibberish. I was acquiring mad at persons once they didnt reply to these words and phrases, she said.

Like an Alzheimers affected person, she had very little brief-term memory and would forget people when they remaining the home.

Over quite a few months, she had to relearn the best way to stroll, dress, study and publish. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Participate in guitar for her. He encouraged her to Perform the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who imagined she can be annoyed by her incapacity to Engage in how she when had. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets along with her, enjoying the still left-hand component even though she performed the correct.

Which was my finest therapy, she said.

In August, she moved again residence to New Jersey, with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and named buddies, striving to restore her shattered memory. I had been pretty obsessed with remembering, she mentioned. Any memory loss was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists thought her progress was terrific, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced misplaced a chance to cry, like a faucet inside of her Mind had been turned off. One night, nine months right after she was harm, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham movie A Time for you to Destroy. Just following her father had gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult males who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, and also the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mom and dad, my father, and whatever they went by, she stated. Minimal by tiny, my experience returned, my depth of thoughts returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and obtained a masters degree in tunes training.

Not every thing went effectively. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years after the assault, although they continue to be buddies. She dated other Adult males, but she usually instructed them in regards to the attack without delay — she could not assistance it, she claimed — plus they under no circumstances referred to as to get a 2nd date.

We now have to locate you anyone, her Mate David Phelps, a guitar player, said 4 yrs in the past, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and novice drummer. For once, she did not say nearly anything regarding the assault till she obtained to grasp Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced typically visited her at her bedside when she was inside the healthcare facility, married them in his Moments Sq. Business. She wore a blue costume and pearls. While she was Expecting, inside of a burst of creativity, she and her mates recorded Even though Have been Young, an album of childrens tunes that she had created ahead of the assault, such as the song Relocating. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, manufactured the CD. On it, her husband performs drums and she plays electrical piano.

Is her lifestyle as it was? Not specifically, although she is hesitant to attribute the discrepancies to her accidents. Her last two piano pupils remaining her, with out calling to clarify why, she explained. She has resumed enjoying classical audio, but easy parts, due to the fact her daughter won't give her time and energy to observe. As for jazz, I dont even check out, she claimed.

She would want to push extra, emotion stranded inside the suburbs, but she is easily rattled. She attempts to be articles with being house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological operation at precisely what is now known as Big apple-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Clinical Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, explained final 7 days that her volume of recovery was exceptional. Shes in essence regular, he reported.

Other gurus, who will be not personally knowledgeable about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns scenario, are more careful.

Regaining the opportunity to Engage in the piano may well entail an Pretty much mechanical course of action, a semiautomatic recall of exactly what the fingers need to do, claimed Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation drugs at Big apple University Faculty of Medicine. As soon as Mind-injured, you happen to be always brain-hurt, For the remainder of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay mentioned. There is absolutely no cure, There is certainly only intensive compensation.

The more telling part of a recovery, in his watch, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and child as a significant victory.

For her aspect, the piano Trainer knows she has adjusted, but she has manufactured her peace with it. I had been form of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a sort A, but I had been formidable, she says. Why was I so formidable? I used to be a piano Instructor. I dont determine what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im imagined to be.

[victuri-big-bang-blog]

STORY SUMMARIES

ALRIGHT ARTISTS! READ THROUGH THE SUMMARIES BENEATH THE READ MORE LINE AND PICK YOUR TOP TEN! THEN, FILL OUT THIS FORM! YOU WILL HAVE UNTIL 7PM (EST) TOMORROW TO SEND IN YOUR RESPONSES! GO GO GO!

1.     A one or two shot (depending on exactly how long it ends up being) about fae!victor and seer!yuuri. Basically an urban fantasy au.

2.     A Fantasy/Elven AU one shot where both Yuuri and Victor are elves who accidentally come into contact with strange fey fruits and drinks, leading to an NSFW reaction with their bodies; long story short someone left a fertility fruit where it shouldn't have been lol

3.     A nonlinear narrative about all the times Victor and Yuuri's lives collided, but one thing or another did not work out. An exploration of how chronic anxiety affects a relationship, and how the various threads of their past experiences combine to what they have in the present day (Yuuri's friendship with Phichit, for example-- with the focus being on Victuuri, of course).

4.     Vlogger AU. Victor and Yuuri are both students at the same university. Victor is a fairly popular vlogger and he starts watching the videos of someone called Katsudon, who never shows his face in his videos. Victor tries to strike up an online friendship with him, and though Katsudon is hesitant at first, they grow closer.

5.     I plan on writing something akin to 25 lives comic. Basically, Victor and Yuuri always meet in all possible universes; whatever, whenever, however they meet, all different ways but their souls intertwine and are connected

6.     A modern Greek mythology AU in which the classical "gods" are simply roles and titles. Sometimes when a mortal dies under specific circumstances they are brought back as one of these gods, with the eternal youthfulness and powers to match. However, they are not immortal and can die again--this time for good. Yuuri was recently remade as the innocent "Kore," responsible for springtime and vegetation, but one day found himself in a perilous situation. Though he assumed it would be the moment of his demise, he was rescued by an unknown being. Eventually becoming unsatisfied with his prescribed role, he sets out to find and repay whomever it was that saved him many moons ago, changing his name to "Persephone" along the way. (Or: A modern Hades and Persephone AU.)

7.     At age 5, Victor Nikiforov took his first skating lesson at St. Petersburg and was immediately enthralled by the sport. At age 10, he could easily outperform other skaters his age. Then, during a family trip to a small town in Japan called Hasetsu, Victor met, and befriended a 6 year old boy when he catches the boy staring at him skate at the local ice rink. All Yuuri Katsuki wanted was to have the same physical capabilities as other children his age. The disappointment he felt when his parents told him that he wasn’t allowed to skate anymore because of a disorder tore at his 5 year old heart. He painfully swore that he would distance himself from the ice, but after a year of avoiding Ice Castle Hasetsu, Yuuri found himself missing skating tremendously. He wandered over to the rink, thinking no one would be there, but instead, was greeted by the fluid movements of his idol. The two strike up a close friendship within a day that left Yuuri ecstatic, but pained at the same time; after all, he couldn’t risk even going on the ice. A story that follows the lives of Victor, a young ice-skating prodigy, and Yuuri, a boy suffering from Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, as they grow up and tackle the challenge life throws at them.

8.     It's a Phantom Thief AU where both of them are PTs, always after the same thing...and they fall for each other in the process.

9.     Explicit story - canon divergent AU. A few days after Yuri comes in 6th in Sochi he is preparing for Japanese Nationals. That's when the news breaks that Victor Nikiforov was injured in an accident in St. Petersburg and is in a coma, with an unknown prognosis. Yuri devotes the rest of the season to Victor, and wins worlds in his memory. He then retires. Yuri studied photography in Detroit, and starts photographing empty ice rinks, trying to capture the feel for himself of a figure skating world without Victor nikiforov. It starts as a labor of love. He tries to recreate famous photos of the skater, with the same angles, but in the empty rinks. At first he thinks that there is dust or cracks on his lenses. First a dot, then a strand. But as he photographs more of the empty rinks, and no other images feature these artifacts he starts to put it together. With each photograph he gathers more of Victor's scattered soul. As he continues to photograph the rinks soon Victor's soul starts to approach him in his dreams, and later even waking. Naughty stuff starts happening (yep, with a pseudo-ghost :-P ) Eventually Yuri realizes that he can help Victor and after begging Yakov is granted access to the comatose skater, who regains consciousness as the scattered parts of his soul is finally returned to his body. There might be more after, but that's the bulk.

10. Gen audiences story - Victor learns that Yuri used to volunteer at a small dog rescue while in Detroit. They start making extra time after every exhibition or competition to visit local rescues, take photos with the dogs to signal boost the doggos into new homes, and they might start doing charity exhibitions depending on how the story goes.

11. Pilot AU: Victor is Yuuri's student and falls in love with him while training to be a pilot.

12. In Time AU - A world where people stop ageing at 25, and every person has a digital clock on their forearm. On their 25th birthday the clock starts ticking, if their time runs out, they die. Poor people struggle in a world where time is currency, rich people thrive and live forever. Viktor Nikiforov is the unhappy son of 300 year old parents living in Moscow, the capital city of one of the wealthiest timezones in the world. He wants for nothing, the clock on his arm never in danger of stopping. Yuuri Katsuki's family struggles to make enough time to live, each day filled with work at their failing Onsen in Japan. After Yuuri's sister almost dies, his parents send them both away, to better timezones and brighter futures. After an accidental meeting between Yuuri and Viktor, both of their lives change drastically. Because if one of you doesn't have enough time to sleep and the other can live forever, love is the last thing anyone needs.

13. In-the-near-future Video Game AU: Yuuri Katsuki a.k.a Akira is THE top-leveled Sniper in the new groundbreaking Persona MMO. One otherwise uneventful day, he and hundreds of thousands of other players find themselves trapped inside the game. Loosely based on elements of SAO and Log Horizon, and combining aspects of the epic Persona games, Yuuri finds himself with a power he shouldn't have, in a situation that should be impossible, encountering a man he hasn't seen in ten years. It's going to be a long grind to get out of this alive.

14. I plan on writing a goddess/angel AU + reincarnation AU. Victor and Yuuri are both angels/goddesses. They fall in love, but the heaven council doesn't approve of it because they love each other more than god which banishes them. Yuuri pleads that their love is real/pure; that it isn't he product of the devil pushes them off the path. He says that they could prove it. Pitchit, who's pretty high up in the council, lets his emotions get the best of him and manages to convince the council to give them a shot. So they get 10 lives, they have to meet in them all and fall in love at least once.

15. My story is an AU wherein Viktor is a former principal ballet dancer forced into retirement by an accident/injury, ends up living in Detroit and depressed, ends up meeting and falling in love with Yuuri who works teaching ballet to underprivileged youth in Detroit, and through that finds a source of purpose again.

16. When Empress Katsuki is killed during a skirmish on the border with Yugashina, the prince and heir to the throne of Lesnya, Victor, knows that war is only a hair's width away. To no one's actual surprise all negotiations fail, leaving Victor with little to no choice but to gather up their armies and march on Yugashina. That is, unless he can devise a better solution in time. Unless he manages to smooth this out before both their lands fall to ruin. Unless– He finds a way. Two neighbouring countries in a state of tentative peace. Two royal families trying to protect their own people. And only one thing that can save them all – a royal union that will cement loyalty, breed forgiveness and maybe somehow fix things. Love? Romance? Chivalry? No one really has time for that when there's a country to save, a murderer to find and a husband waiting for your mask to slip.

17. YOI in a Psycho-Pass AU! Yuuri is in detention as a latent criminal when his lifelong anxiety clouds his hue. So when Victor, well-known Inspector for the MWPSB's Criminal Investigation Unit, shows up and offers the chance to leave and become an Enforcer, he takes it despite his doubts. He doesn't know that Victor remembers Yuuri from his past before Yuuri became a latent criminal, and that Victor is battling his own demons and doubts. Drawn into a psychological game with a serial killer, they'll have to learn to trust and see each other past the Inspector/Enforcer roles.

18. Summary: Happiness seems to be a fleeting thing in Yuuri’s life. He’s lived a long and happy life married to Victor, they plan to spend the rest of their lives together but for Yuuri that is suddenly much longer and without Victor. Yuuri finds himself back in Detroit, before he met Victor, before he had even competed in his first Grand Prix. He’s ready to go back , do it over again to find the man he loves but in this timeline, Victor loses his battle with depression and commits suicide. Yuuri is devastated, ready to give up himself when he gets sent back again, and again and again. He keeps trying and failing to save Victor but that’s his only goal because for some reason Yuuri has been given a chance to save this universe’s Victor. He can only hope that the Yuuri that has taken his place is making his husband happy.

19. Grand Theft Auto V-inspired AU. Victor is a criminal who fakes his death in order to restart his life on the right side of the law. Yuuri is a young hustler who pays his bills repossessing luxury vehicles for a sleazy car salesman. When a visitor from the past convinces Victor to join one last heist, Victor unexpectedly takes on the protege he never knew he wanted– or needed– when he asks Yuuri for backup.

20. This story is a tale of Yuuri with the dreaded hanahaki disease, and his struggle to cope with it. Excerpt from the story: "As soon as the first petal fell from his lips, grief filled him because he did not have a chance. Love would not fall upon him, because he was not meant to love. He would let the flower bloom. Fill his chest until there was no space left, until flower spilled from his mouth. He knew death awaited him, but he could not bear to stop the flowers from growing. Not when those flowers meant so much to him."

21. After the war, General Victor Nikiforov is sent to Hasetsu, Japan to rest and recover from his injuries. There he is looked after by Yuuri Katsuki, who served as a medic.

22. modern day pride and prejudice au with yuuri as lizzy and victor as darcy

23. Yuuko shows Yuuri the fall fashion show. Yuuri is intrigued by how elegant the models look, and falls in love with how beautiful Victor is, and how he makes the clothes he wears even better. Yuuri decides he wants to learn how to make beautiful clothing like what the models had worn on the catwalk. He learns all that he can from Minako, a retired designer who now runs a bar, and attends a college in Paris, France. He interns at a rising label, where he meets Phichit and Chris. Then the label hires Victor as one of the models for an upcoming show. Cue the crazy antics.

24. Super-cut, volleyball ace Victor Nikiforov crushes on Katsuki Yuuri, the bookish editor of the university newspaper. Unfortunately for him, Yuuri doesn’t even register the Hot Ones anymore — they’re either not interested in him or too damn cocky. He makes friends with them and never imagines anything more. Which frustrates Victor to no end. Why won’t Yuuri look at him, like, ever?

25. Victor fills his life with sweetness – petit fours and sunlight and Yuuri. (Victuuri Bakery/Coffee Shop AU)

26. Alternate Meeting AU After Viktor finishes skating his short program he wants to watch other skaters without being noticed by reporters so he changes into street clothes and puts on a hat to cover his hair. He notices a really cute skater from Japan and gets up the nerve to talk to him. While walking over he steps on something, lifting his foot it revealed a pair of broken blue framed glasses. Feeling bad about breaking the other skaters glasses Viktor offers to be his eyes during the competition. Yuuri can't see well without them so he doesn't realize that he is being led around by the Viktor Nikiforov.

27. Five Times Yuuri Catches/Carries Viktor

28. Soulmate au where everyone is born with a small riddle on the inside of their left wrist. Yuuri has the characters for "love" and "mouth" (愛口) while Victor has the phrase "courage to win" (in Cyrillic). They have no idea who the riddle could refer to and have pretty much accepted that they're never gonna find their soulmate. yuuri gets drunk and Victor flies to hasetsu like in the anime and Victor figures out his riddle before yuuri but doesn't tell him they're soulmates until yuuri also figures it out.

29. Modern Day Anastasia AU

30. Soulmate AU with a twist: if the meeting of soulmates does not go right, a person who is fated to be close to the couple must help them find each other... by reliving the day of meeting as many times as necessary. Yurio gets stuck with the train crash that is Viktor's and Yuuri's first meeting at Sochi.

31. Alternate Meet AU where Vic/Yuuri literally run into each other during warm ups earlier in the Sochi GPF season and develop from that point (details include media uproar about them "falling in love??" with pun intended, and Vic being there to support Yuuri when Vicchan dies).

32. An arranged marriage AU which involves the dancer!yuuri trope. There may be some minor fantasy elements.

33. NSFW fantasy AU

34. Victuri wedding fiasco

35. Tattoo artist Yuuri! Viktor first coming in to get Olympic tattoos then they fall in love and he keeps making excuses to go there.

36. Twenty-year-old Victor and sixteen-year old Yuuri are transported ten years into the future and they switch with their future selves. Their younger selves just wake up one day in their house in Hasetsu. Yurio is also there and he's the one who ends up taking care of them, and making sure they don't get into any trouble or anyone notices that they've been transported from the past. The older ones, meanwhile, are transported in their respective home rinks, St. Petersburg for Victor and Hasetsu for Yuuri. Neither of them know that the other was transported too and god the pining is real. They get into a lot of shenanigans trying to lowkey find out if the other is also in that time. They spend a week in the different points and they get to learn a lot of each other. The priorites of younger Yuuri and Viktor shift as they are gain different perspectives on what skating means for them.

37. Soulmate au combined with struggles with gender identity

38. I plan to write Yuuri as a Manga artist who draws BL (a few normal stories to make sure he earns the money he needs to, of course). Viktor meets Yuuri because he's always been a huge fan while producing his own comics but they aren't as popular. Yuuri immediately finds himself drawn to Viktor the moment he looks at him and decides to share his contact information so they can talk later.

39. Victor Nikiforov accidentally discovered his ability to jump space and time when he was only a child. Subsequently, he lost his parents that day and has been trying to find his long-lost family ever since. But in each jump he takes, he seems to get farther and farther away from home. He's about to give up hope when he realizes there's one person he keeps meeting in each of the different timelines and universes. His name, Yuuri, and his presence in each of the places Victor goes, leads Victor to think Yuuri might be a key. If only he could stop falling in love with Yuuri every time they met.

40.  Russian millionaire Victor hired Yuuri, a gardener, to care for his bonsai collection

41.  Sci-Fi/Dystopian Future AU Yuuri Katsuki thinks he has it relatively okay. Sure, scrambling through the Waste as Tech Scavenger isn't exactly a glamorous life, but at least he can keep a (leaking) roof over his head, his nose (kind of) out of trouble, and a (somewhat) stead supply of materials to keep his bionic arm operational. But on one of his solo reconnaissance missions he actually uncovers a VITYA model, one of the rare pleasure bots once manufactured by Nikiforov Inc. Nikiforov as in Viktor Nikiforov, head CEO and founder of the first companies to create and market AI. As in Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri's long-time idol, a kindred spirit in the robotics and technological field. As in Viktor Nikiforov, the man who vanished five years ago, just before the world went to complete hell. Now Yuuri is thrust on a journey to uncover where exactly his VITYA model came from, what caused Nikiforov's disappearance in the first place, and why a pleasure bot is the most human companionship Yuuri has had in awhile.

42.  It's basically a neighbors AU with romance, drama, humor, and a bit of smut. I'm just going to put down my summary, so you can get a brief idea. They’ve been neighbors for a year now and have been dancing around each other in the stupidest of ways. They can’t seem to figure out that they’re meant to be together even as everyone around them knows that they’re love is practically written in the stars. As the seasons come and go, things tend to get a little crazy, but that’s when the best things happen, right? “Um, I watch our neighbor’s cat on the weekends and she keeps bringing me, erm, things. You wouldn’t happen to be missing some socks and underwear, by any chance?” “Oh my god, Viktor, his fire alarm is going off AGAIN. Either he seriously can’t cook or his hotness keeps setting his place on fire.” Yuuri’s on his balcony, watching the sky burn into vermillion flames and singing along to Pandora. The beat has him dancing, slowly swaying his hips as he waters his plants. Another voice joins his and he turns, jolting and spilling the rest of his water over the side of the balcony. There’s a splash and somebody’s cursing him from down below, but he’s stuck, frozen in mortification as he’s caught by the most gorgeous neighbor in existence. Is it important to mention that he was only in a baggy t-shirt and boxers? “Oh, please, don’t stop on my account.”

43. Loosely based on a comic by underthesaemstar-art. Victor is a noble, bored with his everyday life until a string of robberies shake things up. Yuuri is a servant working for Christophe and the thief behind the robberies. When Victor and Yuuri's worlds collide things become a lot more complicated.

44. Katsuki Yuri had been quite happy to spend his days sneaking glances at the cute tattoo artist from behind unnecessarily elaborate bouquets, but things change when everything falls together. Literally, at that. (or the one where Yuri has a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad half-year with a side helping of awkward situations and one very, very obtuse Victor)

45. I plan on writing a short fantasy fic! Most likely centered around Greek Nymphs or spirits (Yuuri as a water nymph, Viktor as a wind spirit)

46. Yuuri is a warlock/witch who loses something of his power when Vicchan, his familiar, dies. He night he loses Vicchan he unknowingly summons Victor, a demon, who tracks him down and tries to help him get his power back. Featuring Phicit the Imp; Yuri, a lesser god of madness; and Makkachin, the Actually-Immortal Hellbeast.

47.  Victor Nikiforov is at the peak of his career, having redeemed the name of Russian pairs skating, but all that gold won’t protect him from the truths that haunt him. Enter Yuuri Katsuki, a late blooming Japanese skater torn between his heart and his duties. Sometimes, when backed into a corner, athletes can act completely unexpectedly. A story about the debts we owe, the sacrifices we make, and the meaning of glory.

48. Minor Supernatural crossover. Hunter!Yuuri- a Yuuri who lines his doors and windows with salt, who keeps a sawed off shotgun at the bottom of his gym bag, and who has coated his blades in pure silver. Who has a minor in Latin and a water bottle of holy water, with a rosary wrapped around his neck. Who has a tattoo on his left inside ankle that appeared somewhere in the year after he leaves Japan and before Phichit becomes his roommate, and a four parallel scars on his right hip, thin and silver white against his skin.

49. Victuuri where Yuuri is an ice skating instructor and Victor is Yurio's dad. Yurio is 7 and 700% done whith his dad.

[ganymedesclock]

Voltron Character Study: Zarkon

[read more analyses like these here]

I promised you guys one of these shindigs ages ago so let’s do this, everyone’s favorite (??) scary space turtle warlord. Sphinx? Everybody talks about the galra being cats and no one accuses Zarkon of being a sphinx. What’s up with that, guys. 

I’m getting off topic.

So Zarkon’s a big old enigma to us in some regards, even after s1e11′s big revelation that he’s the prior Black Paladin. I was hesitant to really crank out a post like this, with so much of Zarkon’s significant backstory still ambiguous to us.

One thing would seem to be pretty clear, however: at some point, between his tenure as Black Paladin and becoming Emperor of the Known Universe, Zarkon survived some grievous, traumatic event.

A lot of things point to this. The scar on his face, his counterpart on Team Voltron’s side being Shiro (also defined as a survivor, also bearing physical and psychological scars from a traumatic incident), and, most damningly, Black’s recollection of the destroyed and ruined planet that both Zarkon and his former Lion called home. Also, when Zarkon speaks to Alfor in Allura’s flashback in the first episode, we see that long before he would have any reason to use quintessence to avoid aging, he has the telltale glowing violet eyes.

This would suggest that Zarkon’s initial ventures in quintessence weren’t to prolong his life against any natural factors- but rather, quite possibly to preserve him in the face of mortal injury.

This is significant, because it would seem to offer part of what Allura considers the dark history of the paladins- at some point, Zarkon was heavily injured, possibly at the same time his home planet was ravaged, and the other members of the team, for some reason, were not there for him. Haggar, seemingly, was- her presence being suggested by the fact that Zarkon was infused with quintessence when he abundantly does not know how to utilize it himself- relying on Haggar’s guidance, and her subordinate druids, to use it.

However, despite an Altean being there for him, Zarkon came away utterly despising Altea, and Alfor in particular. If Olkarion was the original planet of the Green Lion as seems to be implied, then it’s noteworthy that Olkarion was seemingly ignored by the galra for many years before a relatively recent takeover (Lubos does not seem particularly old) and, in general, that Olkarion was intact- when Zarkon obliterated not only Altea but every planet in its system. It would suggest more than the other paladins, Zarkon carried a grudge almost exclusively towards Alfor, the Yellow Paladin. Considering the domain of the Yellow Lion is support, protection, and a “caretaker” role heavily emphasized by Hunk- this would further suggest that Zarkon was heavily injured, and that regardless of the actual situation, he came away with the impression that Alfor abandoned him.

Something also caused Black to completely reject Zarkon, seemingly to the point that she experiences pain at his trying to use their connection, and that she would empathize with Shiro, who experienced his trauma as a prisoner of Zarkon’s.

Many questions remain. And there’s much of Zarkon’s early life, before becoming a paladin, that is unknown. He seems to have been close enough to Alfor that when Black arrived on his planet, Alfor was who he called for help. He was the king of the galra seemingly by birthright before he was a conqueror, and seemingly, a good king once, considering the profile of the Black Paladin. This would suggest he’s been royalty his entire life, but under what circumstances is unclear.

Remnants of a Paladin

As far as Zarkon has come from his seemingly noble past self, it’s worth noting that he has not been able to break with his history to the point that it is not very obvious where he came from.

The Black Paladin is stated as a sure and decisive leader, one who is followed without question and trusted for guidance. Simply- someone who others look to in a point of crisis, rather than someone who is followed only when named as leader. And it is worth noting that, while Zarkon can often seem horribly abrasive, this is not the relationship many of his people have with him.

To those who only engage with Zarkon at a distance, he’s viewed as an ideal. Varkon, a very duty-bound individual who prides himself in, and prioritizes his work, seems to look to Zarkon as his personal hero. Ulaz states that the galra believed, for a long time, that Zarkon would bring them peace and stability.

At a distance, Zarkon is inspiring, uplifting, a cultural and social icon to the galra. He is their beacon of hope and certainty. Very likely, this kind of force of personality, and charisma, has been a fixture of Zarkon since the very beginning.

During the forging of the Black Lion, we see Alfor as dedicated, focused on his work, but also looking up at Zarkon optimistically. He has no misgivings or doubts with the Black Lion bonding to Zarkon. Even after the fact, Allura describes the Black Paladin in glowing, admirable terms- and Zarkon, the first Black Paladin, would be the one to codify those traits.

Zarkon in the past seems to have been very much like Shiro. Born under high expectations, as royalty- quiet, noble, and trustworthy. Someone looked up to as a guiding light. And while he’s fallen, now, much of that reputation remains- in the people that view him from afar.

Trauma and control

During the astral plane fight, Shiro states that Zarkon is no paladin any more, and specifically accuses him in lacking trust. This statement rings pretty dang true if we look at the pattern of how and when Zarkon attacks people, or marks them for immediate removal and destruction.

What has atrophied in Zarkon is his ability to trust others. An essential skill for the Black Paladin- considering the inherent vulnerability in forming the head and body of Voltron. The head and torso carry the brain and all other vital organs. However, it is incredibly difficult for the head and body to protect itself without limbs. With the most to lose, the Black Paladin is arguably the most reliant on the team. After all, someone whose primary quality is a leader is someone whose qualities only shine in a group. When isolated, one of their main strengths is completely inaccessible.

And Zarkon... can’t do that. He really can’t. As loathe as he is to micromanage- we see that he lashes out with incredible force at anyone who seems to act in a way he can’t control. Even his strong, noteworthy faith in Haggar is conditional- it’s set to the fact that in direct confrontations, Haggar will back down before she argues with Zarkon.

Zarkon only feels safe when anything he doesn’t like, anything he disagrees with, can be shot down. Facing his enemies, Zarkon is unnervingly calm, even sort of grand-paternally affable in his battle against Keith- as long as he feels like his victory is assured, and that his superior force and skills will destroy his foes. As soon as he feels that control threatened, his patience and composure go out the window. 

If this sounds familiar, it should, for good reason. Zarkon and Shiro effectively have the same trigger, in loss of control, and they both tend to respond by tensing up and getting hostile. Shiro’s response to Sendak triggering him is to flush Sendak out of the Castle.

As I have mentioned in Shiro’s analysis (under “Balance and the Black Paladin”) Shiro and Zarkon share a conflict between control and openness. While Shiro actively tends to fight his need for control, making specific statements and decisions to put the group first, even to the extent that he can be too selfless- Zarkon has spiraled so deeply into his need for control that it is almost impossible to spend time in Zarkon’s presence without setting him off.

Consider Haggar, and her comment of “...Clearly, I’ve overstepped myself.” Haggar and Zarkon appear to be very close. Lotor, Zarkon’s son, has not only many Altean traits but also closely resembling Haggar, suggesting their relationship might even be intimate enough that they’ve borne children together.

Haggar is also easily powerful enough to be Zarkon’s equal in every conceivable way. The empire may only acknowledge Zarkon as their emperor, but Haggar is the hidden empress. Without Haggar, Zarkon would die- and even with Zarkon injured, the empire is not remotely dissolving with Haggar still in power. However, in practice- Haggar remains without a title. In practice, she obsequiously observes his title, frames herself as an advisor rather than another ruler.

That Haggar has as much power as Zarkon does, if not more through her having direct power over his life, is an elephant in the room, because the only way Haggar and Zarkon can continue to comfortably coexist is that Zarkon is convinced she is firmly under his power.

Zarkon is traumatized to an extreme that he cannot tolerate an equal, and so the one equal he still has is one that has mastered the art of playing subordinate. Of carefully preserving that deferential distance- and withdrawing, remorseful, when she asserts the reality of their closeness.

The Limbless Tyrant

So Zarkon can only feel safe and comfortable if he feels in control. And it seems, leaving his trauma to fester, Zarkon has spent the last ten thousand years feeding that control to the exclusion, and detriment, of all else. Altea, the initial wound in his eyes, is ground into dust under his heel- but what of the others? After all, he once sided with Altea against a greater enemy.

Zarkon knowing Voltron’s strength, and knowing how it felt to have four other people who always had his back, his team- being a Black Paladin in his prime- after having taken down Alfor and the other three Paladins of old, Zarkon’s fear of lack of control would suddenly set in.

What if he needed them? That power he once had, not the Lions, but, those allies?

That’s unacceptable. He can’t doubt himself. If he does, if he expresses guilt- that would require coming to a point of helplessness, that he cannot bring them back from what he’s done to them. Even if he could, he could never make them trust him once again.

And yet, he also cannot let go of his own history, of what once was his. He keeps the Black Bayard. The design of his armor has changed relatively little from his pre-Paladin days, with Alfor, to his tenure as ruler of the known universe. He can’t turn back, but he can’t let go of that desire for closeness. Quite possibly, wounded and traumatized, part of him wants to confide in others and be able to let down his guard, but, irrationally, he cannot bring himself to open that vulnerability- something he considers “weakness”, and weakness is wholly unacceptable.

So Zarkon digs further and further into aggressive military buildup. He creates his empire, trains it, pushes himself against others. Rather than remaining a single specialized entity whose weaknesses are checked and accommodated by other members of his team, Zarkon overspecializes. It has been pointed out several of Zarkon’s bayard forms resemble the bayards used by the other paladins- suggesting, quite possibly, Zarkon wields the bayard forms of his own, fallen team.

As the conqueror, as the victor- he takes their weapons for his own use, insisting as he does that he doesn’t need the other people there to use those weapons.

It’s an ultimately self-destructive path, in stark contrast to the morals pushed by Voltron itself, interconnection and trust. Zarkon has stocked everything in making himself virtually unstoppable on his own, digging deeper and deeper into dangerous, risky procedures to make himself stronger. In practice, in the Astral Plane battle between him and Shiro, he utterly decimates the latter rather quickly.

However, Zarkon still loses without saving grace, even if he’s able to seize Shiro by the throat and strangle him one-handed.

Because Shiro, a proper Black Paladin- doesn’t fight alone. Because someone has Shiro’s back.

Because even as much as Haggar still cares for Zarkon, and wants to protect him- ordering the druids to limit Zarkon’s exposure and protesting against his overuse of the ritual when it clearly takes a toll on him, not wanting to give him the armor until she knows it won’t kill him- remaining by his side when he’s injured and even risking her own life on his behalf- that doesn’t matter. Zarkon is still completely alone, because putting Haggar in his blind spot and actually fighting with her would acknowledge her as an equal, and it would also acknowledge he has a blind spot in the first place.

Quite possibly, Zarkon could not tolerate such a thing because the last time someone was watching his back, they let him fall, and his staunch refusal to ever try that again has prevented him from having any meaningful counter-experience. Admitting he needs Haggar is admitting that he’d be in danger without her- that she’s in a place to potentially betray him.

The absence of the Dark Paladins

While Zarkon and Shiro are clear echoes of one another, and Haggar and Allura appear to be emerging as another set of villain-and-hero counterparts, it would seem, at a glance, very odd that a show so focused on the team dynamic of the main heroes would not put forth any other villainous counterparts.

However, season 3 promises the arrival of Lotor- a charismatic, scrawny underdog character who seems to be a total unknown in the empire. That Haggar sends for him at the end of season 2 tells us she knew exactly where he has been this entire time.

Lotor is almost certainly an echo of one of the four remaining paladins. Personally, I see him as very likely Lance’s counterpart- a “dark” Blue Paladin. And it’s quite possible other counterparts are going to come out of the woodwork as time goes on, especially if I’m right in my guess of Lotor- because the Blue and Yellow paladins are those whose focus is heavily within the team, and Lotor promises new allies for the empire. 

But I don’t think it’s a coincidence this happens while Zarkon is bedridden, and seemingly removed from decision making.

Once again- Zarkon is suffering from the loss of the other paladins. The build of the Black Paladin is vulnerable without the team, but as much as Zarkon wants to retake Voltron, it’s ultimately a futile dream even outside of if he does kill the current paladins and take the Lions.

Black can’t work for him because he can’t trust her. And he could never put up four other paladins. There almost certainly already is four worthy rivals to the paladins within the empire. But Zarkon would never choose them, and if anything, he would probably try to drive them away from him as fast as possible.

That one of them would appear to be his own son- the son Zarkon has never acknowledged onscreen- is significant to me.

In Summary

Zarkon is a powerful person, once noble and charismatic, now marked primarily by a complete lack of trust and unchecked pursuit of control at any cost. While he wants to capture Voltron and reinstate himself as Black Paladin, he seems to have actively driven away any other replacement paladins within his empire, and his underlying fear and trauma have both atrophied his relationships and left him vulnerable for his lack of ability to utilize those bonds.