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tazmuir · 5 years ago

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Hello! I loved Gideon the Ninth so much!! and would like to draw fan art, would you mind sharing any helpful summaries of what each character looks like? or must us fans hunt through the book for every offhand line of description? (not that I'm not planning on rereading it anyway)

I have let myself drift back onto Tumblr after two weeks, am deeply affrighted and excited at the idea that anyone has drawn my kids (I had an AMA on Reddit and as said there, my editor every so often hollered into my inbox about amazing shit people were doing, but I was too busy complaining back to him that my face had gone numb and that I no longer slept, but instead the darkness of the grave claimed me for four to five hours each night). Thank you so much to anyone who has already done this. Many people on my team have yelled and yelled.

Back early on in the piece I made a document for him about what characters looked like in terms of basic ideas/outlines for copyediting, covers and sense purposes, and I’ve dug out that document and slapped it up here for general delectation. As a note: I imagine specific things when it comes to my characters (I am a Kiwi: I write Kiwis In Space as a default) but as I have nothing but joy in my heart for how anyone would want to draw these characters, feel free to glance over this, then toss it out the window. It would bring tears of beauty to my eyes if anyone was like “Yes, but when I was reading I imagined Naberius Tern as a huge monitor lizard,” because absolutely yes, Naberius Tern was just a huge monitor lizard, godspeed.

I had only described below the specific cavalier-necromancer pairs, so that’s what you’ll find below, sorry if anyone wanted Teacher.

SECOND HOUSE

The only ones who seemed even vaguely compos mentis were the Second House: as it turned out, they had been the ones to call Teacher to the access hatch, and now they sat ramrod-straight and resplendent in their Second-styled Cohort uniforms, all scarlet and white. They both affected the same tightly-braided hairstyle and the same amount of extremely gilt braid, and also the same serious-business expression, and they could be told apart by one having a rapier and one quite a lot of pips at her collar.

Captain Judith Deuteros and Lieutenant Marta Dyas are alike in posture, bearing and extremely crisp military uniform (think a cross between US Navy whites and the Regency navy). Unlike every single other necromancer on the cast, Judith never wears necromancer robes, but is dressed in the exact same way as Marta. Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is; Judith is imposing, solemn-faced and reflective, Marta is more keen-eyed and restless. I imagined both as Tongan.

THIRD HOUSE

[Coronabeth] was tall and regal, with some radiant, butterfly quality – her shirt was haphazardly tucked into her trousers, which were haphazardly tucked into her boots, but she was all topaz and shine and lustre. All necromancers affected robes in the same way cavaliers affected swords, but she hadn’t tucked her arms into hers, and it was a gauzy, gold-shot, transparent thing floating out around her like wings. There were about five rings on each hand and her earrings would’ve put chandeliers to shame, but she had an air of wild and innocent overdecoration, of having put on the prettiest things in her jewellery box and then forgetting to take them off. Her buttery hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat, and she kept tangling a curl of it in one finger and artlessly letting it go.

The second twin was like someone had taken the first to pieces and put her back again without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but wore it like a very beautiful shroud on a mummy. The cavalier had lots of hair, an aquiline face, and a self-satisfied little jacket.

Coronabeth is massive, taller even than Palamedes, larger-than-life – statuesque, very bright gold hair, golden/bright skin, violet eyes. Ianthe is the same height but gangly and washed out. Skin colour defined heavily in Corona’s case as golden/olive-hued brown/tanned; Ianthe similar, but less radiant/more pallid whatever the case. Both have long hair: Corona’s should be big and bouncy, Ianthe’s flat/sleek.Naberius is shorter than both, brown-haired (brown can be light, medium or dark, it’s not defined) and blue-brown hazel eyes. Also has lots of hair, cut short, but sense of pompadour/waves. I imagined all three as Pakeha/white.FOURTH HOUSEBoth Isaac and Jeannemary are around fourteen and have pretty much the same body shape still: Jeannemary is semi-muscular and has lots of corners, Isaac is skinnier. Both are natural brunettes, though Isaac has bleached hair (orange, fauxhawk) and Jeannemary is described as having curly hair. Both have multiple ear piercings and eyeliner and the visual is somewhat Glassons storecard punk. Both have dark brown eyes. Jeannemary has a somewhat dusty, fierce, monochromatic appearance (brown hair, brown skin), and I imagine her as Māori. Isaac I imagined as NZ Chinese.FIFTH HOUSEMagnus Quinn is a man in his middling to late thirties, with short, curly hair: he is a frank-faced, nice-looking guy of medium build with a face inclined to wholesome smiles. His outfits should be absolutely exceptionally well-tailored and not very flashy. Imagined him as Samoan. His wife Abigail is perpetually neat, wears round spectacles and has long, glossy dark brown hair – she is the least described of a cast not very specifically described. Much like Magnus, she should always be beautifully and tastefully dressed, though in her case she would affect trousers as well as a robe. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

SIXTH HOUSECrouching in front of the hatch was a rangy, underfed young man: he was wrapped in a grey cloak and the light glinted on the spectacles slipping down his nose. Standing next to him holding a big wedge of broken sculpture and the flashlight was a tall, equally grey-wrappered figure with a scabbard outlined at her hip. She had hair of an indeterminate darkness, cut blunt at her chin.Up close, he was gaunt and ordinary-looking, except for the eyes. His spectacles were set with lenses so thick they could make spaceflight grade, and through these his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey: unflecked, unmurked, even and clear. He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, and the head of someone with resting bitch face.

Palamedes is seriously underfed with a bony, thin face and glasses: medium brown hair cut short and with no particular thought for aesthetics, dresses just in greys, eyes particularly lovely clear grey. Camilla has very dark cold-brown hair – chin-length, straight and with a fringe – dark eyes. She’s compact and has lots of lean muscle, and I imagine her of being Middle Eastern extraction, though due to Sixth House parameters both will be fairly mixed. They’re actually second cousins, so there ought to be a faint resemblance.

SEVENTH HOUSE[Dulcinea] was a slender young thing whose mouth was a brilliant red with blood: her dress was a frivolous concoction of seafoam green frills, and the blood on it seemed more somber against such a backdrop. Her skin seemed transparent – horribly transparent, with the veins at her hands and the sides of her temples a visible cluster of mauve branches and stems. Her eyes fluttered open: they were huge and blue, with velvety brown lashes.

Dulcinea is a girlish woman who looks extremely fragile and sickly, like a neurasthenic Victorian maiden. Eyes should be extremely blue. Hair is light brown in long curls; skin is pale. Pretty in a frivolous, invalid way. Gives the impression of being slight. Outfits should be gauzy and nightgownish. Imagined her as Pakeha/white.

The man who’d put the sword to her neck was uncomfortably buff. He had upsetting biceps. He looked like a collection of lemons in a sack. He didn’t look healthy; he was a dour, bulky young person, whose skin had something of the strange, translucent tinge that the girl’s had. He was waxen-looking in the sunlight […] He was dressed richly, but with clothes that looked as though they’d seen practical wear: a long cape of greyish-green, and a belted kilt and boots. There was a long, shining length of etched chain rolled up and over his arm, and a big one-handed sword hung at his hip.

Protesilaus is massive, buff, and also sort of sickly and indistinct-looking in his colouring – he is described as being made up mainly of muddy, ashen browns. Think Greek warrior, but with no vibrant colouring. Biggest on cast, even bigger than Colum Ash. Imagined him as mixed Pasifika.

EIGHTH HOUSEIt was a pair who were both boys – well – a boy and a man; one was a wan, knife-faced kid dressed in antiseptic whites and useless chainmail you could cut with a fork, it was so delicate. [Silas] was draped in it even down to a kilt, which was strange: necromancers didn’t normally wear that kind of armour, and he was definitely the necromancer. He had necromancer build. […] He gave the impression of being absolutely no fun at all. He was prim and ascetic-looking, and his companion – who was older, a fair bit older than Gideon herself – had the air of the perpetually disgruntled. He was rather more robust, nuggety, and dressed in chippy bleached leathers that looked as though they’d seen genuine use. One finger on his left hand was just a gross-looking stump, which she admired.

Silas is in his teens, has shoulder-length white hair in a braid and dark eyes. He has extremely pale skin, and coupled with the white robes and silver chainmail (all of which somewhat swamp him – he’s sort of slender and purse-mouthed) gives the impression of being arrestingly white all over. Pointy chin, oval face, disapproving expression, a little insubstantial. Colum, his older, larger nephew is much taller, broader and in his early thirties. He has medium brown hair in a short back’n’sides crop, dark eyes, and appears jaundiced in skin tone – he’s very weatherbeaten and tan-skinned, scarred, and though he’s dressed in the same colours he tends to contrast heavily with them and his leather armour is also beaten-up. He looks tatty and ill-used, expression is apathetic or forbidding; Silas always looks perfectly clean, crisp and white. Facially there should be a similarity. They’re both Pakeha, with Silas being significantly the palest person on-cast.

NINTH HOUSEThe light fell on [Harrow’s] painted grey face and black-daubed chin, and her short-cropped, dead-crow-coloured hair. […] She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high-browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and vicious mouth.

Harrow is a scrawny teenage girl with black hair cut short (as befits someone in a monastery) and truly black eyes: she never appears except in black and white skull facepaint. She has a pointed, rather triangular face, not very long, a triangular heart rather than a triangular diamond or oval. She wears black robes and long-sleeved, long-trousered clothes – all black – with no skin showing: the main decoration on this is bones. She wears a corset of rib bones and could have any other bone decoration, which has been written of in the book as bone bangles and multiple bone stud piercings in the ears. She’s more femme-androgynous than outright butch; in Book 1 she’s a bit birdlike and free of specific masc or femme gender markers in terms of outfit or build. I imagined her as being mixed Māori.Gideon is true butch: tall of height – at least, taller than Harrow – extremely, shreddedly fit with the muscular arms of a swordswoman or boxer. She should have a strong-jawed, boyishly pretty face with a big douchebag grin. Cropped hair same as Harrow, except that hers as an oblate is more of an in-your-face mop (could be partly-shaved except that implies more care than Gideon possesses) and is intensely, vividly red. I envision her as mixed Māori, darker-skinned than Harrow. She also wears skull facepaint, though hers tends to be much less careful and baroque than Harrow’s. She often affects a pair of black aviator sunglasses. She wears the same black cloak as Harrow, without any decoration, and a plain black shirt and trousers underneath. Her eyes are an extremely vivid amber with more of a yellow/golden tint than a russet one.

#wild spoiler nobody cared about: camilla and palamedes are second cousins #am I allowed to go look at the art now or will I fall about and die of joy #gideon the ninth #appearances etc #I have not come back to the Internet because my inbox was full and I was afraid. Thank you everyone who has read my book.#Naberius Tern is a monitor lizard in a wig. I'm not good at this #reply #otonin

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Changes - part six Word count: ±5000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part six: Zoë remains one step in front Dean, which annoys the cocky hunter. As new details about the case unravel, both Winchester brothers find out that the independent woman is not planning to share. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Dean squints when he steps into the light. A clear blue stretches out across the sky, the bright color gradually turning paler as it closes in on the horizon. He’s outside in the parking lot crammed with cars; the desk clerk wasn’t lying when he said he was fully booked. The place doesn’t have a sinister feel to it anymore like it did last night, allowing the hunter to let his guard down on this caffeine-deprived morning. The older Winchester brother needs a fix and he needs it badly. Sam drank all the instant coffee and he refuses to drink that shit from the machine in the lobby.

He expected it to be chilly outside, but the sun feels pleasantly warm. Sam woke him up, turning up the volume of the radio completely during the drum solo of a Guns ‘N Roses song. Not because his little brother likes that particular music, but he does like to watch Dean bolt upward in bed. Payback, because the older Winchester can’t deny that he pulled a similar prank on his brother more than once. Honestly, he’s glad Sammy is starting to mess with him again. It’s been a while since they acted like siblings. The joke was a good wake up call, too, he has to admit, but he still feels hungover: wrecked, tired and in desperate need of a cup of coffee, or several.

Traffic rushes by, most of the cars and trucks entering the city of Rochester. It’s a big town, big enough for people to disappear in without others noticing. For a moment, he thinks of those the shapeshifter already took. Sam found a string of at least three disappearances and that conclusion was drawn from the information he had access to offline while Dean was driving up north. These people could be anywhere. Dead? Probably. Going to die if they don’t find that bastard’s hideout fast? Definitely. But before he can work, he needs food, too. Dunkin’ Donuts, now that would be a treasure in this town.

When he asked Sam where Zoë was, all he got was “out”, followed by, “she’s already getting us lunch” when Dean grabbed his wallet and intended to leave. He went outside anyway, in need of some fresh air. His shoulder is throbbing, shooting daggers through his arm whenever he moves it, but as long as he keeps it still, it’s not too bad. In the bathroom earlier, he did peel the gauze back slightly to check the injury, and he has to admit that he was impressed. He might not be able to stand Zoë, but she did an awesome job removing that bullet and sewing him back together. Plus, the painkillers she offered are a God’s gift.

Slowly, he strolls towards his car. The pitch-black Chevrolet Impala blinks in the sun, chrome glistening. Dean smiles; what a sight for sore eyes. He’s honored to own the car Dad gave him a while back. Not just because she’s such a joy to drive, but because it was Dad’s first car. He kind of owes it to his old man to take good care of her. It’s what he expects him to do; to look after the family. “Hey, Baby,” he greets his Chevy, letting his fingertips glide over the trunk. “Since when have we reached the phase that you call me ‘baby’?”

Dean looks over the top of the Impala and finds Zoë’s Harley parked on the other side, but he can’t spot the owner. When he moves around his car he finds her, laying on her back underneath her bike. “Who says I was talking to you?” Dean returns, leaning against the hood. She crawls from under the Road King and judgmentally observes him for a few seconds, then she grabs a socket wrench and slips back under. “Right, men talk to their cars. I forgot they do that,” she nags.

Dean grins and decides not to respond; it’s still early and he’s not sharp yet. The rhythmical sound of the bolt being turned sounds like music to his ears and he has the sudden urge to pull his tools out of the trunk and get some work done himself. But Baby is fine, she doesn’t need any TLC right now. “What’s wrong with your bike?” Dean asks curiously. “I was in a bit of a hurry last night, probably hit a speed bump. It’s just the gasket, nothing serious,” she explains, keeping her eyes on the exhaust. “And what’s wrong with you?” he rephrases his question. “Excuse me?” Caught off guard, she pauses, but doesn’t make an effort to get out from under her Harley. Dean doesn’t bother to repeat himself. “You heard me.” “There’s nothing wrong with me, Shortbus.” Zoë continues tightening the bolt, faster than she did a moment ago, annoyed about the fact that she doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “Then what is that bandage doing there?” Dean asks smartly. Startled, Zoë sits up and hits her head hard against the chrome outlet of her bike, causing a loud bang. Cursing like a sailor she lands back on the ground. “Ow! Fucking hell!”

She didn’t realize her shirt crawled up. Dean smirks at the string of strong language, but hides his smile when she surfaces from under the bike. Irritated, she pulls down her buttoned shirt to hide the gauze through which a little bit of blood has formed a perfect circle in the shape of a bullet wound. She uncomfortably pretends like neither he nor she saw it and disappears under her Harley again. Dean, of course, isn’t going to let it go. “Did Sam shoot you?” “What?” “Last night he fired two bullets. Did he shoot you?” Dean repeats. The huntress scoffs. “Ha! Your little bro isn’t that fast on the draw.” “I’m not kidding,” he states seriously. “Someone apparently was.”

She gives the bolt one last turn and appears from under the bike, this time without hitting her head. Annoyed, she looks up at him, lightning in her brown eyes. Zoë is nowhere near admitting to him what went down. Shit. How the hell is she gonna talk herself out of this one? “Don’t worry, Sam won’t get the credit,” Zoë comments snarky, as she grabs a dirty cloth and cleans her hands, looking away. “If he didn’t do it, who did?” he interrogates, clearly not accepting a smart answer. “What does it matter? It’s nothing serious,” she mutters, getting up. “It is. You got shot, damn it,” Dean argues. “So did you. How’s that shoulder by the way?” Zoë quickly changes the subject, but Dean is smart enough not to take the bait. “No - no - no,” He shakes his head and grins. “I’m not gonna fall for that one. My shoulder’s fine, thanks, but you’re still answering that question.” She sighs; seems like there’s no way out of this. “It’s not that bad, it was a clean shot,” she assures, still avoiding Dean’s question. “Did you get the bullet out?” Dean asks, almost parental. Zoë narrows her eyes at him. “Of course I got the bullet out.” “Who shot you?” he asks again, slowly this time.

Zoë doesn’t answer and saunters up to him, after which she leans against Dean’s Chevy as well. Her hair, still damp from the shower she took earlier and seems black. Despite the crappy night, her natural tan gives her a healthy appearance. The only thing that gives away that she’s tired, are the slightly visible dark circles under her eyes. When she looks aside, she meets Dean’s gaze, who’s waiting for some kind of response. With a sigh, she gives him an answer. “The shapeshifter.” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, needing a moment to analyze her words. He doesn’t know which question he needs to ask first. “You ran into him?”

Zoë averts her gaze, debating her conscience. Should she tell him? She knows he will keep digging until he does, but she could lie, obviously. Oh, what the hell. She might as well give him the whole story. “Yeah, yesterday evening. I had an appointment with a possible next victim, this guy called Cliffer. Turned out the son of a bitch already shed into him,” she explains. “Wait… Cliffer? As in Terry Cliffer?” Dean double checks. She suspiciously tilts her head while looking at him. “Yeah.” “Shit.” He rubs his face, realizing what is going on. “You’re Sharon Evans.” “What? How the hell do you know my alias?” Zoë asks with a tone. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think Sam technically did get you shot,” he starts off hesitating. “Beg pardon?!” she cries out, turning towards him, completely stunned. “We rang Cliffer around five yesterday afternoon, to meet up with him,” he admits. She stares at him as the missing links connect. She places a hand on her hips, switching her weight to one leg, radiating her attitude. “Let me guess! FBI?” “Yeah. He asked if Sam was Sharon Evans’s partner. We didn’t realize we were on somebody else’s case,” he admits. “You son of a…”

She swallows down another waterfall of curse words and turns around furiously. That’s why the bastard changed! She didn’t give herself away, those dumbass Winchesters did! It’s a bit of a coincidence that two federal agents call, being on the same case without knowing it. The shapeshifter was tailing Cliffer already, she was suspecting that, but when it learned about the appointments, it changed shape quicker than planned. The fucker knew there was at least one hunter in town. It was on to her! “Fuck!” she exclaims.

Furious, she turns away and walks back and forth between Dean’s car and her bike. Dean just follows her with his eyes, not saying a word. He knows that anything coming out of his mouth will only make her angrier, even if it’s just a smart attempt to lighten the mood. “What time’s that appointment?” “Five-thirty.” “Where?” “A bar. I’m not sure where.” “You don’t know?!” she snaps. “Sam knows. He made the appointment, not me,” he returns. Zoë rolls her eyes and forks her fingers through her hair, staring at the passing traffic for a moment.

“I don’t see why this is a bad thing,” Dean starts off, casually, but she doesn’t take it well. “You don’t see why this is a bad thing? It probably means the real Terry Cliffer is dead!” she hisses, lowering her voice when guests walk out the Motel Six. “You don’t know that. There could be two of them walkin’ around,” Dean argues. “The shifter doesn’t know that we’ve met. That gives us the advantage. It doesn’t know we know.” “What was your major plan then, Hannibal Smith?” she taunts. “I don’t have a plan. Like I said–-” “- Sam’s the geek, I know. God, seems like your folks saved the brains for the second child,” she huffs, turning on her heels as she crosses her arms firmly in front of her chest.

Dean glares at her, offended. Not that she notices, with her back already turned to him. She picks up the tools she used for the repair and puts them back in a small case, resting on the saddle. While she cleans up, Zoë tries to figure out some kind of plan, but if she’s not even sure who Sam actually made that appointment with, then how can she work out a strategy? Big chance that she’ll meet the shifter, but it could very well be Terry, so she can't actually go in guns blazing. Cliffer hasn’t been reported missing yet, even though he has a wife and kids. If he did disappear, they would have called the authorities and Zoë would know about that. Nothing is certain, which makes this job so much more impossible to work.

She stops what she’s doing and stares at the asphalt. Gears are turning in her head as she goes over every scenario. Dean observes her for a moment. “Did you eat?” he asks out of nowhere. “Or have coffee?” “No,” she answers confused; what does that have to do with anything? “Then how the hell can you think properly?” he wonders. She shrugs, only just now realizing that her stomach sounds like there’s a war going on inside. She could certainly go with a good latte macchiato to jumpstart her brain, too. It’s no fun to admit, but Dean has a point. “You’re right. I’m off.” Zoë throws her right leg over her Harley and lands in the black leather saddle. She picks up her old biker jacket from the handlebar and puts it on. “Can I come?” The way Dean asks is like a little boy would, innocent and hopeful, adding ‘pretty please’ with his green eyes without actually pronouncing the words. She chuckles and shakes her head. “Sorry, Dean. I fly solo.” Her engine starts with a satisfying purr instead of the louder sputter it produced earlier. Content, she smiles and puts on her helmet. Dean, on the other hand, looks at her just like that same little boy, disappointed, even though he tries to hide it. Without another word, she turns the throttle and exits the parking lot. Just before she turns on the parallel road to the 52 highway, she glances over her shoulder with a smirk from ear to ear. “Thanks for lunch!” she shouts, overruling the sound of her Harley.

Puzzled Dean watches her drive off. Lunch? What lunch? He feels his pockets, knowing he’s missing something. When the identical roar seems to come closer again; he looks up. The Harley Davidson isn’t exactly coming back, but drives up the ramp going to the city. She heaves her hand victoriously, holding his wallet as she drives by. Dean’s eyes follow her, his jaw dropping to the ground. That dirty little thief! She just stole my wallet! He gapes at Zoë, as she and her Harley merge into busy traffic in the distance. How could she…? When did this…? Stunned, he scoffs. Un-fucking-believable. He, one of the best goddamn hunters in the world, just got pick-pocketed. While shaking his head he turns around and walks back to the lobby, muddling softly. “Son of a bitch.”

An hour later, Zoë slips her key in the lock of room 82 and walks in like she owns the world, a straw coming from her iced latte on-the-go firmly between her lips. “Finally!” Dean complains. He made himself comfortable on the bed with his shoes on the bedspread again, sitting up against the back wall reading a magazine Zoë doesn’t want to know the content of. Sam is behind his laptop, not surprisingly. The older of the brothers smiles happily when he sees the Taco Bell symbol on the paper bags she’s holding. It might have taken her a while to get back, but at least she brought the good stuff.

Without responding to his comment, she throws him back his wallet without Sam noticing, who is occupied by research. Dean catches it with his left hand and answers her victorious grin with an unintelligible mutter. She sets down a small tray with two more coffee containers. “I didn’t know how you guys like your coffee, so I brought you both an Americano,” she says. “Francis over there prefers a half-caf double vanilla latte,” Dean comments, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother, who on his turn glares at him and takes his coffee. As if Dean hasn’t eaten for days, he attacks the burrito, quickly tearing away the paper wrap and taking a big first bite. Zoë isn’t surprised by his manners. Sam, however, can’t help but stare at his brother for a moment and clears his throat, disapprovingly. His sibling doesn’t seem to be bothered at all and lets out a satisfied ‘mmm’. “This is good,” he comments with his mouth full. “Thanks, Zo,” Sam says, after which he also takes a bite of his lunch. “Don’t thank me,” she nods at Dean. “He’s the one who paid.” The younger brother frowns and looks over at Dean for an explanation. Dean and paying the bill? That’s new. He doesn’t need to observe him for long before Dean stops chewing and his facial expression goes blank. Uneasy, he looks away and swallows his bite. Zoë watches him, too, smirking like a cheshire cat. “She - uh,” he pauses, studying his taco for a moment. “She kinda… stole my wallet.” Sam almost chokes on his food and laughs out loud, the action earning a lethal glare. He then continues to look the huntress up and down. “That explains the new jacket.” Dazed, Dean looks up. New jacket? What new jacket? Then he spots the black leather Harley Davidson bomber jacket on Zoë, brand new by the looks of it. “You didn’t,” he reacts, shocked. She grins at him, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, I did.” He grinds his teeth, trying to keep calm. “How much was it?” “Not sure, actually. I didn’t bother to check the price tag when I slipped your card,” she returns, utterly satisfied. For a moment Dean just stares at her, his upper lip nervously twitching. What would that jacket be worth? 400, 500 bucks, maybe? “Oh, don’t be such a cheap jerk about it,” she comments, when she notices his expression, as if he has eaten something spicy yet disgusting. “You have at least a dozen more credit cards hidden in the trunk.” “How the hell would you know that?” Dean snarls at her.

As she takes a bite of her burrito, she looks up, digs deep down in her pocket and tosses him his car keys. While she casually continues with her lunch, Dean stares at the keys in his hand with his mouth agape, trying to figure out how the hell she got those as well. Sam has a hard time keeping a straight face, and who could blame him? There’s no finer entertainment than this: Dean is getting played. “You touched my fuckin’ car?” his brother hisses. “Obviously. I need to borrow this, by the way.” Zoë holds up a demon protection amulet. “Give that back, Zoë,” Sam demands, trying to be strict. “What else did you take?” “Some herbs, nothing expensive,” she admits, carelessly. “You fucking thief. What did you take, Sullivan?” It’s Dean who rises to his feet, holding his hand out to collect the stolen items. Reluctant, Zoë reveals a dried vine of Viburnum from her inner pocket. “Gardener over here -” Dean nods at Sam, “- went through a lot of trouble to get ahold of that dead plant you have there. I’d give it back if I were you.” “No. I need it,” she decides a matter of factly. Sam narrows his eyes at the huntress, trying to read her. Why would she need that herb? He stares at it, two dried out plants tied together with a double shoestring. It only works for one thing… “Not for yourself, I hope?” Sam asks, carefully. “A case I’m working on the side, actually. Can’t find the damn plants anywhere,” she clarifies. “Keep the damn twig, but I want the amulet back. Get your own supplies.” Dean ushers Zoë to hand the item over, which she does with a sigh. He snatching his coffee from the table and returns to the bed without thanking her. In fact, he’s not happy at all that she has been sniffing around in his car. The silence that follows is awkward, even for Zoë, and she decides to change the subject.

“I reckon you updated Sam while I was out?” Dean nods, taking a sip of caffeine. “In detail.” “Let me get this straight.” Sam, seated on one of the chairs by the table, leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The shapeshifter knows you’re a hunter.” “It does, but it didn’t know that at the time of the meeting. It knew one of the callers was out to kill him, but for all it cared, I could have been an FBI agent. The fucker shot me anyway,” she elaborates, finishing her drink and tossing it in the trash. Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What’s your point?” “Her point is that if we go to Beetles Bar, pretending to know nothing, it won’t take any risks. If the shifter shows instead of the real Terry Cliffer, it will try to kill us both,” Sam understands. “You guys are not going in,” Zoë makes clear right away, taking a mental note of the bar’s name that Sam just mentioned.

“So, what then? Lure him out and shoot the bastard?” Dean suggests. “Not until I’m sure it’s the shifter, not Terry,” Zoë replies, as she walks over to the fridge. Two confused faces follow her as she opens the door and looks inside. “You’re not making any sense at all,” Dean returns, puzzled, after which he apparently gives up on the conversation and props his feet up on the bed again. “You might actually have made an appointment with the real Cliffer guy, not with that chameleon. No one would be able to tell, unless you shine a flashlight in his face,” she explains, as she takes out three beers.

Sam looks back at Zoë, who beckons one of the bottles to him, but he rejects it. Dean takes both the beers without hesitation. “You’re serious? You haven’t even been up for two hours,“ Sam scolds at the older Winchester brother, astonished by the both of them. “It’s happy hour somewhere,” Zoë defends, puts the bottle against her mouth and takes a swig, earning a grin from Dean. “Want anything else, Sammy boy? Some juice, or milk perhaps?” she coos cheerily as if talking to a child. Dean snorts, almost choking on his beer, but when Sam shoots daggers at him, he quickly takes another sip.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he warns the huntress, continuing their discussion on the case. “So, there is a possibility that we might actually have a meeting with Terry Cliffer–-” “Okay, stop there for a second. Let me make something very clear: there is no ‘we’.” Zoë leans on the table, her knuckles resting on the surface. Her body language is strictly business all of a sudden; apparently she’s not very happy about Sam and Dean joining in on the case, especially not without her permission. Dean eyes her as he sits up. “You could use our help, Zo.” “Help?” She scoffs. “Thanks to the big ‘help’ you’ve been, I couldn’t finish the case last night!” “That happened, sorry about that. But as long as we’re here, we can offer a hand. Besides, we have an appointment with Cliffer,” Sam argues. “I don’t care. This is my hunt. I’m going to that appointment myself,” she clears up. A quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s a little past three. She still wants to dig up more information on her guy. The boys better get going. “No, you’re not. That’s our appointment,” Dean bounces back. “Seriously? You really wanna fight me on this?” she returns snappily, pushing herself from the table and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That appointment that you scheduled fucked up my entire case! I was here first and I’m gonna end it!” “Oh, come on. How old are you? Five? Haven’t learned how to share yet?” Dean chuckles with an attitude, adding fuel to the fire.

Before Zoë can counter him, Sam comes between the two hot-blooded hunters. “Knock it off, both of you. It will be easier to catch that shapeshifter with three hunters than with one, Zoë. Why don’t we go there together? You lay low and when we find the shapeshifter, we shoot it. We know he’ll probably be in the bar anyway, either as Terry Cliffer or someone else.” “No,” she decides without any consideration. “I’m gonna deal with this alone and I do not need your help.” “I can see that,” Dean comments, nodding at her abdomen, reminding her of the bullet wound that’s covered by her shirt. “Who’s fault is that again?” she snaps. “I’m gonna say it one more time: I fly solo. I don’t do teamwork, certainly not with you two. End of discussion.”

She takes one last sip of her beer and sets the bottle down on the table with a loud bang. “Who do you think you are, ordering us around like that with your ‘end of discussion’? Our dad?” Sam bites back, defensive for the first time today. She freezes at the comparison and turns her head. The boys can see the fury burning in her eyes, as if they just lit the fuse of a bomb that’s about to explode. His comment stirred something inside of her they should have left alone. “I am nothing like your father!” she hisses. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean questions, offended. “Exactly what it sounds like, Winchester,” she counters with a tone. “What did he ever do to you? He exorcised that evil son of a bitch that was wearing you to the prom, for fuck’s sake.” Dean gets up and steps towards her, clearly not too happy about the way she’s talking about his father.

Trying to not lose her cool, Zoë chuckles sarcastically, looks away, and places her hands on her waist. “You owe him,” Dean pushes, halting before her. “I do not owe him a fucking thing,” she snarls fiercely, staring him down. Their eyes battle, waiting for the other to look away, but both Dean and Zoë are determined not to be the first. Her anger towards John Winchester radiates from her; the brothers can both feel it. They struck a nerve, that’s for sure. “I want you out,” Zoë declares without even blinking. “And I’m serious.”

Dean's jaw tenses as he grids his teeth. “Fine.” With a sigh, Sam gets up from the bed and grabs his duffel, Dean already on his way out. The younger brother doesn’t feel like leaving her alone on this case, but Zoë clearly isn’t going to change her mind anytime soon. “If you need us-–” “- I won’t,” she immediately intervenes. “If you do, we’re going south.” He leaves a card on the bed. “Don’t bother, Sam. The stubborn bitch won’t call us anyway,” Dean responds, holding the door.

She ignores his words, annoyed by the slightest sting that his bitter voice leaves. In a quick glance, Zoë sees two phone numbers written down on the card, but she doesn’t intend to pick it up. Sam looks over his shoulder, but he isn’t angry with her. His eyes ask her to please reconsider, but all she returns is a cold gaze. The door closes behind them and the brothers walk down the hallway. “Unbelievable,” Dean scoffs. “What a fucking waste of time.” Their footsteps echo through the hall as they pass the front desk. Sam nods at the younger guy who took over for the day when they exit Motel 6, and enters the parking lot. The sun is still shining and shimmers on the cars passing by on the 52 highway, tires rush over the blacktop. Dean halts on the driver’s side of his Impala.

“Where to?” he asks, opening the door to get in. “We’re staying in town,” Sam decides before he sits down in the passenger seat. “What? No! We have better things to do, Sam,” Dean argues, still mad at the huntress. “I know we do, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam admits. Dean sighs. “Here we go again with that feminine intuition shit.” Sam rolls his eyes at him, but doesn’t respond to his words. He can’t understand why, but somehow he has the urge to look out for Zoë, almost like it’s instinct. Unnecessary, of course; she has been fine by herself for four years. Why should today be any different? “Let’s just go. You said something about a possible case in Iowa yesterday? If she can handle this, why bother to stick around if we can hunt something else?” Dean reminds him. “One night. We book a motel, check on her, and if she nails it, we leave. She doesn’t even have to know we’re there,” Sam suggests. “I thought you were determined to find Dad?” Dean looks aside at his brother, waiting for a response. “I still am, but we have no lead, not even a single clue where he is,” Sam points out. “Hey, that’s what I’ve been telling you, but it didn’t stop you from looking. You were the one who was all, ‘I gotta find Dad, it’s the only thing I can think of,’ Dean bounces back, imitating his voice. “And now you’re ditching him for some chick?” “I’m not ditching him for some chick!” Sam denies. “Ah, come on. You like her and you know it,” Dean carries on. “I do not like her, Dean! Jess just died, damnit!” he exclaims.

Dean looks away and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. He knows he went too far, so he keeps quiet and turns the ignition. When he flips the key, the V8 motor under the hood growls, impatiently waiting for Dean to back up and hit the road. “You said it yourself: Dad doesn’t want to be found. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing to spend the night here, unless you have some kind of lead I don’t know about,” Sam suggests. “Fine, whatever. As long as that motel has a bed. I really need to get some sleep.”

He puts his car in reverse and looks in the rearview mirror as he guides her out of the parking spot. The shift of his body causes him to grimace, pain cutting through his shoulder. “Feeling alright?” Sam checks. “Yeah, just tired. I need more painkillers, that’s all,” he mutters. Sam takes out his phone and calls a booking agency he had listed in his contacts earlier. As the call goes through, he sighs. It’s going to be a difficult task to find a room with that poker event in town. He waits for someone to pick up on the other side, meanwhile wondering why Zoë got so worked up about their father. Dean has a point; John saved her from that demon, so how could she possibly despise him? Something must have occurred; maybe she crossed paths with him later on and John did something to upset her. She wouldn’t be the first to cross blades with him, after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

The Sullivan Series tags: @a-gir1-has-n0-name @destielhoneybee @fookinghelljensensthighs @heartsaved @idksupernatural @laphirablack @magssteenkamp

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rebellect-writes · 4 years ago

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[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 22. [b]How did this happen?:[/b] He needed an updated application.

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[b]Name:[/b] Tegan Jonathon Frost [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b] [LIST] [*] Alias/Fake ID: Tegan Summers. [*] Nicknames: Tee, Teg, Frost, Frosty. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] 31 [b]Date of Birth:[/b] 24/01/1981. [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Bisexual; but happily taken by a guy. [b]Occupation:[/b] RPIT Detective Inspector.

[b]Animal Species:[/b] African Leopard. [b]Animal Description: [/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/app%20pics/teganapplication2.png[/IMG] [i]Weight:[/i] 155lbs [i]Length:[/i] 9' from nose to tail tip. [i]Height:[/i] 30 inches at the shoulders. [i]Coat:[/i] Creamy tanned yellow with dark rosettes. [b]Do you have a hybrid/alpha form?:[/b] [URL=http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/app%20pics/wereleopard_by_koutanagamori-d32f28a.jpg]Indeed he does.[/URL][LIST]Tegan stands at a rough seven foot tall in this form and weighs in at a hefty 320lbs. From head to foot he’s covered in tawny gold fur with black spots, has a tail, paws instead of hands and feet and while he may appear more feline than human in this form, but he’s more than capable of speech. [/LIST][b]Rank:[/b] Nimir Raj. [b]How long has your character been a lycanthrope?:[/b] 10 years and 7 months. [b]Mind set:[/b] Dominant. [b]Power level:[/b] Alpha. [b]Powers:[/b][LIST] [*] Hybrid form. [*] Healing through touch. [*] Force/Prevent shift in both leopards and jaguars. [*] Resist a vampire’s direct gaze. (480 and under). [*] Can shield his beast and appear human. [/LIST] [b]Face Claim:[/b] Shane West [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/app%20pics/teganapplication.png[/IMG] [i]Height:[/i] 6’0. [i]Weight:[/i] 165lbs. [i]Eyes:[/i] Hazel green. [i]Hair:[/i] Light brown. [i]Build:[/i] Average, athletic. [i]Visible marks:[/i] Tee’s back is pretty clawed up from when he was attacked and infected, from shoulders to the small of his back he looks like he’s been whipped. He has a torn bite scar on his side just over right his hip. He has a black panther tattoo on his left shoulder and on his right shoulder, Tee has a large fleur-de-lis. Over his heart he has "Satori". [i]Style:[/i] Generally Tegan likes to leave an impression on people, so he generally wears a suit to work. However when he’s kicking around the house he’s more than happy to wear casual things like jeans and t-shirt.

[b]Special Skills:[/b] [LIST] [*] Knows a little Russian and Spanish, just enough to get him by and is currently learning Italian. [*] Good under the hood of a car; his baby is proof. [*] Moderately proficient with firearms. [*] Knows basic hand to hand/close combat skills. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b] [LIST]Compared to his twin brother, Oliver, Tegan is the calmer and more rational of the Frost brothers despite being fairly rough around the edges. He may be a little unorthodox at times depending on the situation at the time – especially when conventional methods don’t work in his favour - but that doesn’t make him a bad person, he just doesn’t like to mess around when it comes to some things such as work, leadership responsibilities and his family life. Outside of those three aspects of his life, Tegan’s pretty chilled out and the type of person that will always try and be there for someone else no matter the cost to him. Of course that’s not to say that he won’t think things through either before or after. He is the type to hang out and have a few beers after work with his friends, shoot hoops at the park on his time off if he isn’t tied up with something else.

He’s loyal. Even if someone betrays him, Tegan will likely keep an eye on that someone. He may not be that willing to throw himself in the line of fire, but he’d be there. While he may not be that trusting from the start of a relationship, Tee goes to some extreme measures to work on trust between him and the other person – or persons - involved. He may, at times, keep some things to his chest such as choices and decisions regarding the Pard or work, and derail the conversation should they come up before he’s ready to talk about them. It just means that he’s thought things through. He may not show it at times, but he does care about the people close to him; and in his mates case, he cares a great deal but what he says go without question. His very family orientated in his own way. Tegan was raised that idle hands could always be put to work elsewhere, and that manners were important on top of always being there for kin.

Tegan is anti-vampire for the most part. But that isn’t to say that he’ll go out of his way to cause trouble for any vampire that crosses his path. He’d just rather prefer that they leave him and his pard alone, but since life isn’t that fair, and he knows for experience that most vampires take what they want, he’s personally remained remarkably cautious about the species as a whole. He doesn’t really mind when someone in his pard has connections to a vampire (though he’ll growl about it if he sees something he doesn’t like), he won’t micromanage the pard that way, all he asks that those with vampire affiliations take their business elsewhere as he won’t put up with a vampire in his house or in his face. He’ll try and be civil with a vampire, he really will, but the bad experiences with the vampires have kept him at odd when it comes to them.

His personal preferences are damned when it comes to his work. It doesn’t matter if he’s dealing with a human, a shifter, vampire or something all else altogether, he likes to keep things as professional as possible even if he’s out of his element. Tegan’s not exactly a work-a-holic - Ok, well he is, but he wouldn’t call himself that – but he does at some times overwork himself and just keep going until he drops or gets told to take a break. His feelings on the other supernatural differ depending on what he’s drawn into. If it’s personal, that’s fine with him, he’ll roll with the punches but if someone or something thought that dragging his Pard into their issues was going to be fun, Tegan would fight tooth and nail to get them out of it. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b] [LIST] [*] Working out. [*] Playing the guitar. [*] A decent cup of coffee. [*] Keeping busy with work. [*] Working on his car when he’s stressed. [*] Having some fun with friends. [*] Having a drink after work. [*] Closing a case. [*] Movie nights in. [*] Climbing as a cat. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b][LIST] [*] Vampires. [*] Chick flicks. [*] An unsolved case. [*] Inner Pard fighting. [*] When he’s put on the spot. [*] When someone lies to his face. [*] People that make him repeat himself. [*] His twin brother when he’s being an ass. [*] When people eye his car for the 'oh cool' buzz. [*] People that think he's a push over and try to be a leader. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b] [LIST] [*] Twin empathy. [*] He actually listens to people. [*] Very protective of the Pard. [*] Standard alpha strengths. [*] Shielding his beast, he barely notices when he shields now. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] Can't resist a vampire’s call or gaze (the latter 400+ years.) [*] Twin empathy can be a pain in his ass. [*] His 1966 Impala SS Sport Coupe! He’s poured a lot of time into his baby. [*] Can have a bit of a hot head at times. [*] Possessive of his mate. [/LIST][b]History:[/b] [LIST]Thirty one years ago in Bucklin, Missouri USA, Tegan J. Frost was brought kicking and screaming into the world seconds before his twin brother did. His father, James was delighted and so was his mother, Dawn Frost. However things didn’t go so well. Within minutes of both boys being brought into the world, Oliver died and was spirited away by one of the nurses on call during the delivery. It was a sad state of affairs, and both parents were devastated, Dawn more so than her husband because little did Mrs Frost know, her other son was alive and in the hands of her husband’s mistress and bit on the side. News of Oliver’s ‘death’ was a dramatic blow to the family and people close to the newly wed Frosts once they returned home with their surviving boy to start their new life.

Life for Tegan was pretty simple and family orientated while he was growing up. Despite the fact that it was his mother that was the role model in his life because his father was almost constantly away due to work and would only be home a few months at any one time. When he was home, however, Tegan always tried to stay clear of his father because the elder Frost believed that a good old fashioned beating would toughen any boy up to be a man. He took his licks when they came to him; which was generally when his mom wasn’t around or when he’d done something really bad that a talking to didn’t seem to cover. Respect was one of the things that James Frost demanded, and while Tee may have respected his old man, in the same breath he couldn’t stand him either.

Throughout school, even though Tegan had his ups and downs for various reasons, he tried to make his parents proud. It wasn’t until he was seventeen that Tegan was given something that took his mind off the typical teenage issues that plagued everyone that age; a girlfriend, school grades and peer pressure. On a trip home, his father gave him the keys to the old car in the garage that he’d never been able to give the attention it needed. It was a wreck, but Tegan saw the potential right away and over the next year and a half he put his heart and soul into fixing the machine up while his friends wandered their own way assuming that he thought that he was better than them. It was around about this time that he really sat down to think about what he was going to do with his life.

He could’ve gone into the army like his father, or he could’ve done countless other things like settle down with a wife like his mom hinted at, however Tegan decided that he would rather go into law enforcement. It was something that he hadn’t decided on a whim, and the evening that he’d decided to tell his parents, his life changed when his mom turned around and told him that his father had passed on. It was shocking, and it numbed Tegan to the point he didn’t speak to anyone – not his mother, his girlfriend or even the guy at the corner store - until the day of the funeral almost a week after he’d gotten the news. It was during the service that things took a dramatic turn once more. Half way through, a punk rocker rolled up like he owned the world. It could’ve been handled easily if it had been anyone else, expect the guy looked exactly like Tegan.

He introduced himself as “Ollie”, James' son.

His dad wasn’t even in the ground twenty minutes before a fight between the boys broke out and they were only separated when Dawn got in between them and forced them to back off. Tee was mortified at what he’d done and Ollie was fuming that Dawn had got between them, but Dawn didn’t leave it at that. She chewed on both her boys before Ollie stormed off in one direction and Tee in the other. Tegan didn’t go home for two days after the funeral and revelation that his twin brother was alive, he was a mess emotionally and pushed everyone away when they tried to get close. He’d lost his father, gained a brother that he’d always been told was dead, his mom had no answers she really wanted to give him and even his girlfriend at the time wanted him as far away from her as possible for the scene at the funeral. He may have been a mess, but he did return home after a few days when he’d had a chance to calm down. The day he came home, he and his mom had a bit of a talk that had been long overdue. His mom told him how things had been strained with her and James’s marriage but she never dreamt that it would affect him. Then when he hesitantly broached the topic about Oliver, all he was given a phone number – somehow she’d managed to snag that before Ollie had left – before she changed the topic. He could see that it still hurt her, so Tegan left his mother to it and went about his own business.

In retrospect, he probably should have told Dawn that he was moving out and applying to the force. She probably would have been fine with it if he had been staying local where they could still keep in touch daily, however when she found out that he was moving to San Francisco, Dawn flipped! She tried everything that she could but nothing seemed to faze Tegan who was only a few months shy of his nineteenth birthday. The move itself was relatively pain free, and as scary as the prospect of beginning his own life away from anything familiar was, Tee pushed on as best that he could. It wasn’t until a three months after his twentieth birthday that he decided, well and truly, that the SFPD was the right occupation for him and applied to join the force. The tests and exams almost made him change his mind half way through the process; his time at the academy however flew by with very little memorable moments, and within half a year he was a fully-fledged cop.

Things didn’t really change for Tegan until mid-June, two thousand and two. On a call out with his partner in the downtown area – Pacific Heights if you want the exact location -, both officers were lead to believe that the disturbance were just bored kids. In fact there was money riding on the fact that they’d find some kids hunkered down in a court yard making weird noises to spook the residents who just happened to be around at the time. What the two officers found was something a little bit more than a couple of kids playing pranks. Caught in an alley way, mid transformation was a leopard shifter that attacked first and asked questions never. Perry died within minutes as the panicked and enraged monster charged them and swatted him into a wall, snapping his neck. Tee managed to get two shots off before the beast transformed fully into the nastiest looking feline he’d ever seen. Rather than attempting to run, Tee did the opposite and attempted to put the beast down. It didn’t work, and the exact details of the mauling were lost under the pain and finally, thankfully, unconsciousness.

Tegan woke up a week later in a secured hospital ward, having healed enough from the attack to be allowed visitors by his doctor. The visitor in question was the deputy chief of Field Operations and ultimately, Tegan’s superior officer. He explained what had happened as well as informing him about Perry’s passing and such. The daze that he’d listened in quickly vanished when the deputy chief brought up possible retirement. When Tegan panicked and asked why, he was told that no one wanted to work with a monster that could turn any moment and attack fellow officers. What was worse, outside of the early retirement, the FOB deputy chief then proceeded to berate him for not killing the leopard creature or helping to save his partner’s life. In the end, it was all too much for Tegan and he sank somewhat blissfully into unconsciousness once more as his doctor hustled the superior officer out of the room. Two weeks later, Tegan discharged himself from hospital against the wishes of his doctor. The first place he went was to work and as distraught as he was, Tegan kicked up enough of a fuss that he managed to wangle a meeting with the Deputy Chief. It may have cost him his position in the Metro division, but that didn’t bother him then. After a long and painful talk that seemed to take hours and perhaps because he could see Tee’s desperation over the idea of being kicked from the force, the DC brought up another option that Tegan could take instead of retirement. A transfer to the UK; more to the point a transfer to a new division that allowed supernaturals to work on the force, known as the Royal Preternatural Investigation Team. Seeing as it was Tegan’s only option outside of losing his job, he accepted and within the week he was on a plane to the UK with the assurance from the Deputy Chief that things would be sorted by the time he’d landed.

Unfortunately, things had been cut a little too close for comfort. With days of finding a new place to live and moving in, Tee’s first shift hit him like a tonne of bricks. When he came around, he found that his flat had been torn apart, but that wasn’t what freaked him out the most. What unnerved him, was the fact that he woke up to find a couple bustling around his apartment like they owned the place. They introduced themselves – after Tegan had demanded to know what the hell they were doing - as the Nimir Raj and Nimir Ra of Jackford and when confronted and told that Tegan had no idea exactly what a Nimir Raj or Ra was, the female shifted into the biggest snow leopard he’d seen in his life outside of a television show. The Raj – he introduced himself as Ross – explained that they’d found him in the woods just a few miles north of where Tegan lived, and rather than confront him there and then, had followed him back to the flat. Personally, Tegan was fine with that and thanked them, however Emma – the Ra – chose that moment to pipe in after she’d shifted back, and demand to know when Tegan would’ve sought them out as Rogues weren’t welcome in Jackford and if he didn’t join the Pard, then they would have no choice but to force him out of the city or kill him. Put on the spot with all of this news and knowing deep down that he was severely out matched in every way, Tegan did the sanest thing he could, and asked if he could join the Pard figuring that it was the lesser of two evils and that there wasn't much else that could really happen to him.

Being part of the Pard didn’t affect his job that much and he tended to stay away from the brewing troubles between the clan’s alphas. It wasn’t until the summer of two thousand and four however, that things changed drastically for them all. Ross and Emma had made a bargain with one of the local vampires that could call leopards. In exchange for the resources that the master vampire could give them, the Nimir Raj and Ra handed over their Clan to be used as however “Andrei” felt fit. This sparked an inter clan war between the alphas, and while they were fighting, the vampire turned his attention to the weaker werecats in the clan, and over the space of a few months, Tegan was being used as a walking, talking, blood bag just like many of the other Pard were as the little “rebellion” was crushed.

New arrivals came and old clan members left almost constantly, it seemed. However, one spunky new member to the clan caught Tegan’s attention. Sera was an omega like himself, and it didn’t take her attitude long to provoke an alpha that had a habit of picking on the weaker cats to make him feel bigger. Rather than see her punished for something unbelievably stupid like he had done over the year that she’d been in the group, Tegan got between them which surprised him and everyone else involved since he’d never gotten involved in any trouble or issues within the Pard, choosing to keep a distance from most things unless he was dragged into it. The stronger lycanthrope made his displeasure known and kicked the proverbial spots off Tegan’s hide before finally going on his own way, but not before leaving Tegan with some scars that he couldn’t get rid of afterwards. It was the beating that made something in Tegan click into place, and rather than stand back and let things carry on they were, he took action.

Rather than continue to view things from the side, Tegan pushed himself on and trained harder just like Sera did. He worked his way through the power structure when things between the Pard leaders and the vampires fell apart, and when he finally reached alpha status after eight years of nonsense, Tegan challenged Ross for leadership. Ross indulged him, figuring that it would be easy to break Tegan’s new found backbone and that ego was his downfall. Tegan ended up tearing out Ross’s throat during their fight, and despite the wounds that he’d suffered, when the Ra came upon them, he turned on her too. Yet, when he had her where he wanted her, where he could end her, Tegan backed off and told her that if he ever saw her face again or caught her scent in Jackford that he would do the same to her as he had her mate. Emma was wise enough to see where she was beaten and bolted into the woods, and that was the last that Tegan – or anyone else from the Pard - ever saw of the Queen.

That was almost three years ago, when he took the throne of the Life Forger Pard, and Tegan’s continued to maintain the position and bring the Pard back together as it should be without being some kind of a tyrant, as well as maintain his job. He’s even managed to win the heart of his mate and that suits him. [/LIST][/SIZE]

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smolbeandrabbles · 6 years ago

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Out of Nowhere Girl Pt.2 - Director Keller / Talos (Captain Marvel)

Part 1

Author’s Note: Did anyone else temporarily forget what this was supposed to be? Because I did. Short. Was the answer. What has developed in my head is a LOT longer. So, I hope you enjoy the ride with Mr.Keller this time around... Pretty much had a brain explosion over the last week due to those deleted scenes and then everyone throwing GIFs around. So here we are! This is also the first time I really get to introduce you to my Keller. As he’s almost entirely a blank slate... I hope you like him! We are following 3 Time Stamps: 1993-1995, allowing us to focus on Keller/Maliyah’s relationship. 1995, in the aftermath of the events of Captain Marvel Present/10 Years Later (c.2005, I suppose), To follow the real story line.

I hope this doesn’t get confusing as hell... Disclaimer: MCU Characters not mine. I stick by Jonathan Richard Keller. No “Canon” is changing that. I’m certainly NOT sorry.

#ComicCanon Premise: Keller had always wondered what was out in space. Naturally he never expected the answer to be ‘the girl of his dreams’; and now he has to let her go...? Talos and Maliyah figure out where they need to get - and it ain’t all good... Words: 3877 Warnings: Zip!

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There were no stars in sight Then the planets all aligned When I saw her eyes One look that's all it took To send me to another galaxy She said, she was on her way to Mars Then she ran into a star and she fell into my arms Thank you gravity, never let her go I'll hide her U.F.O., she'll never have to know She's my space girl and she's outta this world ...She looked kinda bored Said she'd seen it all before Made me wonder even more Which universe was hers? What galaxy did she call home? Like a meteor I'm fallin’ From the first time I saw her It was heaven on earth

--- Circa 1993 Getting called to any incident was likely a bad thing. Except this one. This one, Keller couldn't refuse. The course, rough, ugly streaks through the salt left harsh black scars where the ship had hit before coming to a complete stop. Keller tried to stop himself from getting too giddy. He'd long been a geek when it came to space - if you got him started on science and astronomy, he was off like a proverbial rocket. (To be honest, any flying craft was likely to get him talking like that; as the model planes in his offices and his apartment would prove… But space was his real muse.) And this didn't look like it had come from Earth. Which is of course, why Keller and his S.H.I.E.L.D agents had been called in. He had to be professional about this situation though. He had a team of good, good people. And he couldn't risk their lives. He was the leader and he had a responsibility. Even if he was slightly freaking out about the prospect of meeting an alien life form. "Sir, have you ever seen anything like this?" Keller shook his head. Not as an agent, nor director had he ever been called to a UFO sighting or similar. He'd dreamed it, plenty of times. But he'd never actually been. "No..." he was quiet, but his voice no less authoritative. When he spoke, they listened. No questions. "Team, proceed with caution. We don't know what we're dealing with..." The structure of the ship was weird in itself. The blue and yellow painted metal twisted, but not completely broken. It was shaped a little bit like an 8 point star - or would have been - there was definitely nothing like that on Earth. Keller’s heart jumped in his chest and he had to check himself a few times. "Life signs?" "Negative, sir." He wasn’t disappointed, that didn't mean there weren't any. "Keep on your toes. All your wits about you, we are a little out of our depth here..." and Keller couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched either. As his crew searched amongst the wreckage Keller surveyed the scene again. He'd have to call it in. Of course, he would. But what do you even write on a report like this? No doubt the board - the creators of S.H.I.E.L.D themselves - would want this as down low and classified as possible. And these marks all over Utah’s salt flats would need to be explained away somehow. Now he had to think on a cover story AND get this ship out of here without Joe public finding out a thing. He'd done similar before. He wasn't worried. That was when he spotted her. Standing a little way away but not trying to look inconspicuous. Keller visibly startled and his heart leapt again. He looked back to his preoccupied team and then touched his right side. His pistol was there. Keller was a quick draw... He proceeded. She didn't, almost like she was waiting for him to come to her. But she eyed the team around the ship with some interest. Keller all at once realised he didn't know what he was going to say. This was his first ever in counter with an alien lifeform and he couldn't screw it up! But what to say!? She was silent herself and looked relaxed about the situation. Dressed in black flight pants and a black-and-tan vest top that cut just above her stomach, what looked like a weapon on her right hip, where her hands sat relaxed (should he ask her to remove her weapon? Was that a dumb thing to ask?), her clothing was a little ripped and charred but, she looked miraculously intact. The star shaped necklace that hung from her neck on a fine chain was eerily reminiscent of the ship now buried in the dried-up lake behind them. Her shoulder length hair ran pink and purple and she almost looked human. But he was transfixed by her eyes. Deep blue, purple. No they were certainly purple. And they looked like they held stars - cosmic. Keller felt lightheaded. Have mercy-! He took a deep breath; "Is the ship yours?" Dumb-! Dumb, Keller-! That's your first sentence!?! Really!?! You've dreamed of this moment since you were about 3 and that's the first thing you say!?! She gave a smile, then a slight laugh. "Yeah." then with a raised eyebrow; "What are you doing to it?" English. She spoke English. And her voice... Good lord. Keller found he had to check himself AGAIN. "Guess I'm on Earth." She kept talking "You’re human. Obviously." He had a nice accent. It was different to Peter’s, for sure, the twang, but... American. Had she landed in America? Maliyah Saal couldn’t keep the smile from her face; it was nice to be around a human again even if accidentally. She could feel his emotion so clearly; the internal fighting with himself was like reading a book. A very interesting book, mind you. How he seemed to switch between excitement and fear. Constantly. How she could feel him fighting to choose every word he said. She was positive that she was the first extra terrestrial race he’d ever encountered. "We were sent to investigate the crash. Yeah, you're... On Earth... Utah." She didn't need to know that. Why was he saying this!? Was he nervous? Was he babbling because he was nervous!?! "Where are you from...?" She tipped her head, trying to decide if she trusted him or not. But Maliyah decided she did; "I came from Xandar. But... I'm from Aauraa. That's my race. Auron.” That's two places that had life out there. Now he was certain there were many more. He held out his hand, she didn't seem dangerous. Hell. She seemed like everything he'd ever wanted. Think of what she could tell him. "I'm Jonathan Keller. I'm the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." he had a warm smile and she liked that "I guess I'm between LA and Atlanta..." He didn't know why he was telling her about two places she didn't know. But he'd been raised right, and he politely matched the information she was giving him. Jonathan, she almost had to laugh again. Jonathan Keller and Peter Quill... Two human males that clearly couldn't be further apart. For one, the male in front of her was a lot older; a man and not a boy. He was wearing a suit that edged professional, but she was willing to bet, from the fact he was here, it was not a kind of... Corporate role. The team was significant. And she had observed enough to know that he was both the leader and had their respect and trust. That was important. His hair was once dark but had faded to grey overtime. Still, the black that showed up in places let her know Keller was not nearly as old as it made him look. And his eyes. She'd not seen a blue quite that spectacular in all her years of travel. And she'd been more than her fair share of places. He watched as she backed up slightly, eyes wide and turned to his team. All at once they had noticed what was going on, stood in a neat row that flanked him. They all had their guns drawn, but all were pointed to the ground. Good. He didn’t want to screw this one up. They were a good team. They probably knew he wasn’t in trouble, but they were ready to spring into action if she tried anything. He motioned for them to lower their weapons; “It’s Okay…” Keller’s voice was suddenly vastly different from how he was speaking to her. And she noticed it instantly. How calm he was. “…She’s Okay… It’s alright…” This was a man who had been in charge a long time. Who had seen a lot. And knew exactly how to handle a situation. These other humans were not loyal to him because of his title. They were loyal to him because he had earned it. Jonathan Keller had proven he was worthy of it. And that made Maliyah smile even more, she knew that ship would be out of action for a while until she fixed it. And if she had to find and trust someone on this planet… there wouldn’t have been a better man to encounter than him. Keller turned back to her as his agents did as he asked. Her eyes were trained on his face, and her lips were slightly parted. He wanted to call it awe. But that was impossible. Why would something so beautiful be in awe of him? When she had come from way out there in the stars? He inhaled, and then exhaled – and this time it worked. And they both felt the way his nerves calmed – though he didn’t know it. He extended his hand to her; a customary professional Earth greeting when meeting for the first time; “Is this.. your first time on earth?" Maliyah reached out and took his hand and he felt himself go lightheaded again. Gosh-! Now he was touching her..?!! He wondered if she knew how excited he was. That this was possibly better than every alien encounter dream he'd ever had. He hoped his professionalism was intact. "Maliyah, Saal. Treasure hunter... Member of the Nova Corp." Director sounded important. She wanted to match that herself "And yes." He had to smile then, properly. Maliyah Saal sounded like she came from the stars. "Well..." Keller glanced around him and then met those eyes again; "Welcome to Earth."

She inclined her head in thanks. But Keller needed to think quick. It wasn’t just a girl he was dealing with. But that ship too. Maliyah let his hand go, because it was clear he wasn’t going to do the same. She was glad that her skin would only ignite if they were together. Not that she would dwell on that, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be here and that Earth was about the one place in the galaxy that didn’t know about the races that lived in the rest. She would not stay long enough to form any kind of friendship with him, simply an arrangement of coincidence. Still – when his skin touched hers, she couldn’t help but feel all his emotion. She wanted desperately to calm him down – to tell him not to be as terrified as he was. Because there was no denying under his exterior he WAS. But she couldn’t reveal exactly what she was just yet – which meant she couldn’t exert influence on him either. At least not here. “…Maliyah, I’m afraid we will have to move your ship. As you may well imagine we are not used to coming into contact with…” He hesitated, aliens? Could he say that to her? Was that offensive..? “…Other races.” “I understand.” Although she couldn’t see his teeth she could tell they were sinking into his bottom lip – solemn “…I also need to ask you to come with me.” He didn’t want to say it. Keller didn’t want to sound like he would have to take her by force – but knew he would if necessary. She understood that too; but was curious enough; “Where?” “There is a facility not too far from here.” The lip bite turned into a smile, it was a warm smile. He was smiling at her because he wanted to, not because he had to. It had nothing to do with reassurance, “I promise you, you will be safe there.” ** 1995

The drive to Utah was long, slow and quiet. In fact, Keller thought that if he didn't turn the radio up he would go insane. It had taken another couple of months for him to convince her to even get in his car to go and he knew that she would not want to fix her ship in a hurry. He'd taken the liberty of getting a close-knit band of engineer's together to give himself a head start. She'd probably get mad about that. But he knew what he was doing was for the best. Maliyah would come ‘round to that. She'd got in the car, hadn't she?

He looked across to her, the road was empty and seemed to stretch endlessly. Mile markers aside he felt he was a million lightyears from Utah.

Today she was wearing biker boots and slim fit jeans, shirt over figure hugging vest top she actually looked human. But, far from happy. Arms crossed, looking out the window, feet up on his dash, legs crossed. Even though he'd told her multiple times to take them down. She was pouty too, which was unfortunate because it just made her look cute. The only thing about her that was inhuman was the vibrant colours (because she'd damn well let her emotions show at this point!!) that streaked across her arms. This time they reminded him of the warning lights of deep-sea creatures. She was just mad... And dealing with a lot she didn't understand: or pretended she didn't understand. Jonathan knew he could never fathom which. For all she had opened up to him, he knew there were still many secrets she held back.

“Maliyah…” She shifted in her seat but said nothing “Maliyah look at me…” She heard it in his voice – he was hurting because she was intent on ignoring him, he was hurting because he felt he had to let her go, he was hurting because she was hurting him. “Supernova... Please...” She would have looked to him anyway, but that nickname... he’d use that nickname. So she turned. “Jonathan, I… Don’t want to talk about it.” “…But you know we have to get you off planet… Right? I couldn’t bare to think about whatever these Skrulls might have got out of my head. And now that more people know about what’s really out there, your file will not stay lock-and-key classified for long I can assure you…” Keller put his eyes back on the road, because they smarted when they were locked on hers. Pushing the rolled-up sleeves of his light-blue-purple checked shirt up even further. He noticed her eyes follow the motions and land on his wrist watch with its too many dials. She remembered the inscription on the back and the NASA symbol. NASA – yet another organisation that should know about her and didn’t. Yet another ode to his great love for the stars. Keller knew already how many times he would have to testify on her presence on Earth. Luckily, as his first report had been straight to the board of S.H.I.E.L.D he wouldn’t lose his job for keeping Maliyah to himself – but he might be heavily reprimanded once all the advisory boards and committees started popping up. She finally answered him, also looking ahead, “I do… But I am worried about leaving you.” “I can take care of myself.” “I know you can. But you don’t think I will be worried every time I feel pain?” He tipped his head with a hmm to dodge the question. But realised he couldn’t swerve it like it was a pot-hole in this endless stretch of highway; “…If I make my desk job a desk job, would that make you happier?” “…You tried that already.” “What if I really did it this time?” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t make YOU happy. And I care about that more.” He removed his right hand from a wheel and held it out for her to take. She did, between both of hers. At once her skin ignited; but the colours were soft. She pressed her lips into his palm and he felt that rush of joy, not too much – it was kept toned down. She was doing it again – picking him up. He encased one of her hands in his. It said all he needed too. Though sometimes when she did this Keller couldn’t help but wonder exactly what else Maliyah could influence on a person. She used it for good things… But he had always been fairly positive that if she wanted to see the world in despair, she could do that without a second thought. She was incredible. She would be incredible without being with him; the fact that she was still sometimes made him feel like he was dreaming. …Could he really let her go? For her own good. To protect her. I would do anything…

The reason he had even mentioned keeping himself at his desk was if he got hit too hard (it had to be pretty hard. If she didn’t know anything about his escapade with the shapeshifters), if he bled at all; be it a papercut or a medical check-up pinprick, she would feel that too. Some things Keller just wouldn’t be able to protect her from. He wasn’t always willing to accept this. But she had bonded with him and it had been her choice. Her acknowledgement of the consequences of their union showed nothing but how much she loved him. And God, if he didn’t love her just as much. ** He took his foot off the gas and the car ticked up another mile as a crop of buildings began to creep up on the horizon line. It was all too much too soon. And even her happy influence couldn’t stop him from biting his lip so hard. It was all he could do to stem any tears he could feel coming. No matter how long it took Maliyah to get her ship into order, she wouldn’t leave this facility now until she was ready to break Earth’s atmosphere. His hand shook as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose – don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry… God. Jonathan Richard Keller be STRONG for her. He couldn’t. And he let out a sob; he was shocked that he had, and instantly covered his mouth. She was looking at him now with wide eyes, her lips parted for words she couldn’t say. She knew. Maliyah could feel his sorrow bubbling up inside him but it still shocked her when it broke the surface. Her eyes flicked to the buildings, enlarging by the second, and back to him. They were still a few miles away. But to Keller, it would never be far enough. And he’d insisted on this. He squinted slightly – he could hold those tears back all he wanted; she knew emotionally they were already flowing down his face “I’m sorry…” It was muffled by his hand. “I’m so sorry.” 15 minutes and no tears later he rolled the car to the security gates. He hesitated as his hand hovered over his pass. He had until the guard strolled over to change his mind. To take her back home, because she belonged here with him and he knew that. But how long would that last? How big of a risk was it to keep her here? It wouldn’t just be her home that were looking for her in reality, or the Skrulls if that was even something they would do, but the home she had left. Her older brother, her adoptive parents. Keller knew all about them, and if he was any of those three, he’d want her back. He’d be worried about her. Even that didn’t stop him from wanting to turn back. Maliyah placed her hand gently over his, she may not know his exact thoughts, but she knew how to read his face. She swallowed; it was time for her to be the strong one. “We can do this.” He glanced across to her as she pushed his hand down to enclose around his S.H.I.E.L.D ID card. She was smiling. And this was one of reassurance. “Together. We can do this.” ***

Present

“How exactly do you propose we find them?” Talos looked around, it was built small for a Ravager vessel; he knew that by the fire like emblem emblazoned on the wing of the ship. Inside it was decked out for no more than one or two people; But the tech, all of it new and polished, Talos guessed must have been Xandarian. “…This isn’t just any Milano.” Maliyah indicated to what he had already noticed, “The amount of tinkering I’ve done to this thing over the years… Doesn’t even bare thinking about. The computer system can do just about anything. There’s tech from my home world, tech I’ve lifted with the help of, or from, Ravagers. Earth – obviously! - things I’ve transferred from the Nova Corps vessels, my own crews’ Vessels - They’re pretty much grounded until further notice - But, It’s a Xandarian system. I’m connected to all databases I can get my hands on, most of them I have actual access to – a bit of hacking never hurt anyone…” She sat on the arm of her pilots’ seat and tapped a few things into her computer “…Essentially, every race has a different kind of ship and different fuel elements for each ship. These are good indicators of the who and where, the ship gives out a lot of different signatures of its own, but the fuel particles. That’s what we’re gonna go follow. I don’t always trust ship radars bouncing off of things in space… Very sketchy at times.” “How do you know how to do half these things?” The computer set to work, so she slid into the seat and indicated to a chair; “Buckle up-!” Igniting the fuel of her own ship, the Milano hummed into life. “That human you simed.” She turned to him with a grin “He’s a lot damn smarter than me. I have the tech, I can engineer the tech. He is every single piece of code and every mathematical algorithm behind that tech.”

The Milano’s ship computer beeped enthusiastically as it located the trail left by the Kree ship – running its own diagnostic it came up with a probable location. Making Maliyah grimace; “UGH!” “What?” Talos tilted his head and squinted at the flashing coordinates and corresponding planet name - he didn’t recognize either. “We don’t want to go THERE. Geez, that’s like, half way over the other-other side of the Kree’s sector of the Galaxy…” “…Meaning what?” He turned to her, but Maliyah had that determined look on her face he almost couldn’t help but smile at. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll get you there. It’s once we’re there… I’ll just need some crew back up.” “…Thought you just said your crew was grounded.” She shrugged “Pfft! They were a bunch of trigger-happy treasure hunters before I got them organised into an efficient crew. They’ll just be doing that again-! I’m not dumb enough to think they’d actually listen to a WORD I said.” She pulled another smile and lightly punched the top of his arm; “You’re gonna be glad for that when we get over there.” “Trigger happy sounds just what we need.” It was clear sarcasm. Maliyah grinned, she liked him already. This was going to work out; hell it had to work out. “That planet is deceptively tricky. They’re not going to like me very much, they’re CERTAINLY not gonna like you.”

---

I’m not partial to believing Keller fell in love with her at first sight. But it IS possible that he has a crush on a girl that comes from Space.

GIF Credit: @winterswake @dennismitchell - Omgosh, I have a brain like a sive! But I remembered to tag you this time, sweetie! 😘😘 @morganadarkladyofall

#Keller x OC #Director Keller #Keller #Talos #Captain Marvel #Shes my supernova #She's HIS supernova!!!#Same damn nickname but of course it is #Keller is SO super important to me...#He's just...#I love him. and i LOVE him with her #She deserves him. But I don't think she think SHE deserves him #genuinely the worst piece of posting editing ever #I can’t even look!#45 #Maliyah #so embarrassed I can’t even tag Ben...

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alittletournesol · 6 years ago

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Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} 23/33

Chapter 23 : Maturity

A continuous whistling sound rose from the gardens, sometimes lower, sometimes louder, as if it kept leaving and coming back. It wasn't a disturbing noise, for its melody was quite sweet and conveying a joyful, enthusiastic feeling as it slowly started to awaken the sleeping Prince. It only needed the whistle to evolve to a song, unsurprisingly about the beauty of flowers, for the young man to eventually frown, his dream definitely far away from him.

The window was open and even though its curtain wasn’t completely drawn, it was enough for a bright ray of sunshine to enlighten the royal bed. It took several seconds for Kibum to adjust his comfort, his eyelids slowly raising until the dark pupils grew accustomed to the natural light. While his senses were gradually coming back to him, his ears didn’t hear the singing voice anymore, and the Prince found himself a bit chagrined. It had been a distant yet pleasant sound to wake up to, and he had recognised the soft timbre of the gardener’s voice.

He didn’t know Heechul could sing, however he was quite pleased to have been a secret witness of this hidden skill. It had been enough to put him in a good mood, even more knowing that the hunt had been cancelled that morning due to an incident in the forge. The blacksmith hadn’t been able to refurbish enough arrows for all hunters, thus he had been allowed a day more to finish his work. Kibum smiled as he buried his face in his pillow, relishing the first semblance of a lie in after almost ten mornings waking up before the sun.

And rest, heaven knows he had deserved it, not because of the hard work he was doing in the woods… but to not be weakened by the lack of sleep when his husband had drawn him so late at night in these delicious moments ignorant people would call sinful. The Prince shivered at the simple memory of the King’s warm skin against his as they had feverishly kissed for a so long time, before abandoning themselves to their lust. And the young man couldn’t deny it, his apprentice was a quick learner, although they had remained to what he had taught him before without going further.

That was at that moment he realised his naked body felt cold, and he turned his head towards the other side of the bed, resting his face on the pillow and keeping his eyes closed. With only his hand, he blindly roamed the mattress to search for his husband’s warmth… but his palm only found the creased sheet, barely warm. Frowning, Kibum opened his eyes for good and discovered the bed empty, the print of Minho’s silhouette already disappearing.

Incomprehension invaded the young man’s mind as he didn’t remember that his husband had something planned that morning, important enough to have him leaving their bed so early. Perhaps it wasn’t as early as he thought and the King had got bored while waiting for him to awaken ? Was that why he had decided to get up and busy himself somewhere else ? So many questions were assaulting the Prince as he held himself on his elbow before sitting up on the mattress.

Rubbing his eyes and stretching his nape, he was about to get up in his turn when the door’s knob moved. As the only reflex he could have at that moment, Kibum grabbed the sheet to cover himself up, holding the piece of fabric on his chest while only his bent leg was showing. His heartbeat fastened as he feared that an employee had come to clean or something, and would discover him naked in their sovereign’s bed… but the door opened thanks to a brawny back pushing it backwards, and when the intruder’s face was eventually visible, the Prince relaxed. He could have recognised this dark brown hair and sweet doe eyes among thousands.

“You’re awake.” Minho smiled, his voice low and gentle as he made sure to close the door with his foot. “Such a shame, I would have loved to wake you up by myself…”

The raven haired man slightly laughed, his eyes quickly falling on the treasure in his husband’s hands. The latter was holding a quite large tray, where a teapot and its two cups were delicately arranged, accompanied by a small basket filled with freshly gathered fruits. With care, the younger man placed this light breakfast on the bedside table, allowing Kibum to notice he was only wearing plain white pants and his robe, closed on his certainly naked torso. He hadn’t even bothered tying his hair, as if he had only left the room to bring some food to sustain.

Taking his time, the King went to the window and opened a bit more the curtain. Sunlight enlightened the quarters and made Kibum’s milky skin almost shine, the latter protecting his eyes with his hand on his temple. When Minho approached the bed again, removing his robe and looking at him with his fleshy lips curved into the softest smile, the Prince found himself growing shy and embarrassed by the appearance he must be showing at that moment. Lowering his eyes and with his cheeks pink, he brought his hand to his hair, gesturing to discipline them a bit.

“No, let it be.” His husband said, making him look up and see the other man put a knee on the mattress to lean on him. “You’re beautiful.”

Without giving Kibum time to answer, Minho softly pressed his lips against his, holding himself on the mattress with only his hand and knee. With a discreet laughter, the Prince returned the morning kiss until they separated, and noticed he was still ridiculously holding the sheet on his body.

“I thought you would be hungry, and I didn’t want you to leave my bed.” The King whispered as he moved to sit against the headboard, placing his pillow behind his back. “Come here.”

Remaining quiet, the other man moved on his knees and watched his husband prepare his pillow right next to him. As soon as it was all waiting for him, Kibum sat on his side with his legs bent and rested his shoulder against the cushion, looking at Minho. He had never been talkative right after waking up, but his calm attitude had nothing to do with a bad mood : he was just appreciating an instant of peace before a long day of responsibilities.

The younger waited for him to make himself comfortable, half against the pillow, half against him, before he grabbed the tray and placed it on his own lap. He carefully poured warm tea in the cups and caught an orange, slowly peeling it with his long, graceful fingers. The Prince watched him do, pressing his cheek against the tanned shoulder and smiling when he was offered a clean wedge, its bright color and appetising smell making his mouth water.

“I remembered you don’t eat much on the morning.” Minho softy said, eating a quarter himself. “But I guess one or two fruits can’t harm, right ?”

“Citrus fruits are my favourite.” Kibum nodded, his voice hoarse but not less warm and gentle. “Don’t you want to eat more ?”

“I’m fine.”

Saying this, the King lowered his head and pressed his lips on top of his husband’s head. The raven hair curiously still had this sweet scent like after every bath, despite the previous night’s sweat. For a few minutes, both men remained quiet, relishing the acidulous flavour of the fruits and sometimes feeding each other. At some moment, their cups were empty and the last orange peeled, the Prince humming with a smile when Minho leaned on him to put his mouth on the corner of his lips where a drop of juice was running.

The quick kiss was followed by a longer one, the elder letting the younger lead it by only tilting his head to the side to give him more access to his mouth. With one hand, the King blindly pushed the tray away on the mattress, while the other one found its place on his husband’s neck, softly caressing it as he grazed their lips against each other. Kibum had his palm against the firm chest, his fore finger drawing imaginary circles as he completely submitted, his tongue gradually becoming captive in a slow dance reminding him of the waltz of an olden day.

His body replying to a quiet invitation, the Prince’s leg moved by itself to cover the other man’s thighs and it was an invisible hand was pushing on his back to make him straighten up, enough to have his face at the same level than his husband. The kiss grew more feverish but neither of them wanted more at the moment, and they separated with a smile, their noses brushing before the raven haired head lowered until it rested on the muscular chest. To make him even more comfortable, Minho let himself slide against his pillow until he was half lying, his smooth fingers grazing his elder’s naked back.

At that time, they looked like the characters of a painting. Lying in bed, their silhouettes interlaced, skin enlightened by the white sheets covering Kibum’s lower body except for his leg, and the just as white pants the King was still wearing. It was the kind of scene the young Prince had always dreamed of, and the way his heartbeat was as fast as his mind was at peace proved it. To be held against such a strong body, with the incredible feeling to be loved and protected… he had never wished anything else, for he was of the romantic kind.

Quiet, discreet romantic kind.

The hand on his hair was soothing, and for once he wasn’t rejecting any form of contact with it if it wasn’t to style them like his companion did — or to hold them in bed, when things were going rougher, but that wasn’t the matter at the moment. Somehow, this cozy, comfortable atmosphere made him want to settle some things that had hurt them both in the past.

“Minho ?” He called, breaking the silence.

“Hm ?” The King replied, opening his eyes he had closed to relish their time together and lowering his head to look at him. “What is it ?”

“I’m not asking this to argue again but… do you think we can stay together for as long as we want to ?”

He had expected Minho to sigh deeply and tense up, like the other time, maybe push him away the same way he had rejected his hands that evening. But he only felt the arm around his waist tighten its grip and what he recognised as his husband’s temple being pressed against his hair.

“Do you want to ?” The browned hair man simply asked, his voice gentle despite the slight trembling. “To stay with me until we don’t have our place down here anymore ?”

“Do you ?” Kibum returned the question, only to be welcomed by a slight laughter, low and deliciously husky to his ear.

“Don’t avoid my question.”

“You avoided it first.”

The King smiled and kissed the dark bangs before staring at the ceiling. The answer to his husband’s question seemed so simple, yet he couldn’t help thinking about the consequences.

“Yes, I want to.” He eventually admitted. “Without a single doubt, I want to have you by my side until you get tired of me.”

“Tired of you ?” The Prince straightened and held himself on one palm to look at the other man in the eyes, frowning. “I’ve been tired of you since the day we met but see where I am right now.”

“Was that your subtle way to let me know you think like me ?”

“It took you a few months but you’re starting to understand my language, my King…”

“Better late than never.”

Kibum laughed before he put his head back on Minho’s torso, clearing his throat. He had heard the words he wanted to hear, and it left a pleasant sensation of warmth inside his chest.

“Aren’t there solutions for us ?” He asked, making sure to keep caressing the skin under his fingers to soothe his husband while bringing such a difficult subject up. “Your mother already told me about some but they aren’t… satisfying…?”

“I still don’t know which one of her solutions would be the worst to handle.” The King replied, his fingers playing with the black strands. “Annulling our marriage, or conceive an illegitimate child with a maid…”

“I wish we could be selfish… but what future awaits this maid you will choose to carry your child ?”

“I don’t even want any of my employees to be given such a task, out of consideration for them, and for you. What husband would I be if I was to impregnate someone who isn’t linked to me by the sacred bonds of matrimony ?”

“Those were some mighty ceremonial words.”

“But I’m serious, would you like to have me consummate our wedding with someone else, several times, in order to conceive a son or a daughter ?”

“I think I don’t really have a word to say about this… it would hurt me a lot, I can��t deny it. But what I dislike with this idea is that the maid would just be a body, what would she become afterwards ? And who can tell if your child will be welcomed on the throne once you hand it down to him, or even her ? Illegitimates babies grow up to become undesired adults…”

Minho didn’t reply for a few seconds, pondering his husband’s words. He had married such a truthful person he sometimes felt dumbfounded, taken aback by his smart and considered thoughts. It had taken him time for the Prince to eventually open himself enough to become the adviser he seemed to have been born to be. And at that moment, everything he said was intelligent and showed a lot of his way to approach life at his young age.

As selfish as he could often be — although he was considerably working on it lately — Kibum always kept a quiet eye on others, whether they were close to him or not. To have him calmly warning the King about the potential risks for a child that wasn’t born, wasn’t even conceived…

“That wouldn’t be fair to him, or her.” Minho eventually approved. “Then, do you have an idea ?”

“Not a single one, it’s been many months since our wedding but… everything is still so new, I’m not used to this heir thing.”

“Doesn’t power in Mongje work the same way ?”

“It does, but I’m… I wasn’t the eldest, so I’ve never really cared about it. My sister was the heiress, I suppose I would have become the heir of Mongje anyway since she would have left to marry you. Only me would have remained to ensure the province’s prosperity.”

“But you never really thought about it, did you ?”

“Never, I was busy with something else at that time, I’ve never been fond of… you know, power. It’s not like I lived in my sister’s shadow but well… let’s say some parents don’t know how to hide their preference towards one of their children.”

“Did yours ? I’m sorry to hear that, I wish I could understand but I’m an only child so…”

“It’s fine.”

“You know, I think we can only remain stuck if we try to fix this issue just by ourselves. We should consult someone who has enough knowledge in this field, enough experience.”

“Your mother ?”

“My mother.”

***

The Queen’s private room was still as bright and welcoming as the first time Kibum had been summoned there. However, the memory it had left in his mind was bitter and he couldn’t help being apprehensive of the upcoming discussion. When one of the female companions of his mother-in-law, who introduced herself as Kang Seulgi, led them inside an hour after they had taken that decision, she warned them that she would make sure to bring her mistress as fast as possible.

To make a good impression and show her resolute character, she took time to put a kettle above the flames in the fireplace. The husbands watched her preparing the tea table with cups and placing tea leaves inside the teapot’s strainer, her gestures always delicate and calculated. Minho leaned on the Prince to whisper that his mother was extremely strict when it came to the preparation of her tea, and the elder nodded, impressed.

When the young woman bowed to them and left after pouring hot water in the teacup, both men remained quiet for a few seconds before looking at each other. They locked gazes and realised they were feeling the same thing, deep inside : dread. It was like they were playing the most dangerous game in this small room, and when Kibum inhaled deeply, the King’s hand moved from his own lap to his husband’s, softly interlacing their fingers. With his thumb, he caressed his skin in a soothing way and offered him an encouraging smile.

After he pressed a gentle kiss on the other man’s temple, Minho leaned on the tea table, softly grabbing the teapot and pouring the now brewed liquid in the three cups resting close by. It was fuming and the delicate fragrance tickled the Prince’s nostrils, enough to make him feel a bit more comfortable. As he was about to take his cup, the door opened and the husbands stood up as one man to welcome the King’s mother.

As was her habit, she was magnificent in her pale yellow dress, her shoulders covered with her see-through shawl she tended to wear every day to counter the breeze. Her hair was styled with pearls and flowers, matching the spring atmosphere and making her even younger than she already looked. She was ethereal, especially when she smiled because Kibum found his husband in her features : the way she smiled while showing her teeth and her eyes smiled with them, it was just like Minho.

“Good morning.” She said, her voice sweet as she took a seat in her armchair, accepting the cup her son immediately handed her. “You are early birds today.”

“His Grace quickly got into the habit of waking up early for the hunt.” The King replied, giving his cup to the Prince as well as taking his. “Even when today is a resting day.”

“I see, well, you both look fresh-faced. To what do I owe this early visit from you ?”

Minho and Kibum exchanged a glare, not sure how to approach the situation again nor how to call upon the Queen’s help. After all, she was the most willing to separate them, although she was doing it for the rightest purpose. Their silence eventually worried her, and the way she cocked her eyebrow was taken as a signal, the Prince choosing to go first.

“We came to solicit your advices, your Majesty.” He said, looking at his mother-in-law’s eyes. “The King and I happened to discuss the situation once again, this time more calmly.”

“I must say that I am delighted to hear this.” The woman smiled. “I was afraid this subject would never be broached anymore since it went extremely wrong last time. What made you talk about it again, if I may ask ?”

“We just did.” Minho replied, not really sure they could specify they had slept together. “It is true, we pondered together about the potential solutions we have regarding the need for me to have an heir.”

“Nevertheless, we thought we should question you, your Majesty.” Kibum added. “We talked, indeed, but we… we are trying to figure how we could… how to say it…”

“How we could not annul our marriage and ensure Jinju’s prosperity without having to be separated. Because we do not want to, and we are ready to do everything that is in our mutual power to never make our divorce happen.”

“This… was not what I expected to hear.” The Queen admitted, putting her cup on the table before looking straight at them. “Yet, I would be lying if I tell you that this conversation is worth nothing. Since both of you reconciled, life has come back in the palace, everyone can sense it. Also, my son, you are showing yourself responsible of your kingdom again, something I reproached you with before all this issue occurred between the three of us.”

“I am not sure what you mean, Mother.”

“What I mean, son, is that the past month made me realise the pain you both suffered. You too, your Grace. Although I am still not enthusiastically welcoming the idea… perhaps I should at least listen to you. So, I am all ears.”

The husbands’ reaction was so similar, not to say identical, that it made the Queen smile. They both widened their eyes and looked at each other, then at the woman. They sat there, gaping, unable to know which one of them should talk first. But once the King started, it was like they were playing opposite each other. Whatever Minho said, Kibum would add a detail that was worth the woman’s attention, and they eventually came up with all solutions they had found to circumvent this heir issue.

Jihwan listened carefully, surprised by the maturity these two young men were handling the situation with. But what was more noticeable than the cleverness of their words was the way they looked at each other, always seeming to look for the other’s approval when they proposed something. This talk was the allegory of the way they had been reigning together since the Prince had started being more and more included in royal matters : they listened to each other and instead of criticising a poor idea, they were managing to upgrade it.

There was no doubt about their complementarity, although it was always starting from a disagreement. It seemed the whole month spent while ignoring and hurting each other had served as quite a revelation, and even the Queen couldn’t deny it when she had it before her own eyes. The husbands of Jinju needed each other. And an originally egoistical decision regarding their political marriage had turned into a reflexion about how to do something beneficial to the kingdom, while staying together.

Not the opposite. They were placing Jinju before themselves, trying to integrate their couple to its prosperity. And this was enough for the woman to understand they weren’t teenagers anymore.

“You seem to have thought a lot about this issue, indeed.” She eventually stated once both men were done with their explanations. “My first question will perhaps be a bit tactless but I believe it is necessary for me to ask it, and for you to answer.”

“Tell us, Mother.” Minho encouraged her, slowly starting to find some hope in his mother’s words. “We will answer anything.”

“What are you to each other ?”

Kibum suddenly tensed up, frozen by the words he had just heard. There it was, the moment when his husband and him would have to put a word on their relationship… something they had refused to do in the past, when they had started discovering their mutuals feelings. Minho had been extremely demanding about this, for he was afraid that labelling themselves would kill the magic.

“I am in love with my husband, Mother.” The King frankly said, what made the Prince slightly jump with surprise on the couch, while the Queen didn’t flinch. “You raised me, you saw me grow up. You know I lived some fleeting romances with maids and you were the one telling me it was temporary, it was not love.”

“Yes, I do remember that.” Jihwan nodded her head.

“This time, it is nothing like before, and I am saying it again. I am in love with Kibum and for anything in the world would I divorce him. We did things backwards, but I do not care. And I hope you will not reject your son for this, Mother.”

“What about you, your Grace ?”

Kibum opened his mouth when the sudden question was asked directly to him, and he felt his cheeks lose some colours. The woman was looking at him in a way she had never looked at him, as if she was daring him to lie to her. She seemed to know the truth would state a quite unusual, dangerous situation… but at that moment, that was all she wanted. The truth. Although she already knew the Prince’s feelings towards her son.

The latter started stuttering, feeling as if his throat was tightening and his words remained stuck in there. He was sure his forehead was gleaming with sweat, and his scalp was heating up… and everything increased when he felt a hand taking his. He was about to jerk it, considering it wasn’t something to do in front of the Queen, but the grip was firm and he understood Minho had known he would try to escape. He also saw Jihwan’s eyes going from the hands to his eyes, waiting even more for an answer.

“I…” He started, inhaling deeply while the King’s thumb was caressing the back of his hand, giving him the bravery he needed. “I love your son, your Majesty.”

“Really, do you ?” The woman asked again, even though she knew the answer for she had already asked him when they had talked, just the two of them, a month before in this same room.

“Y-Yes, I do. I know I once had an attitude that showed the opposite but it was a while ago and… I realised I’ve… never been in love, before I met my husband.”

Next to him, Minho couldn’t hide his smile and stared at the other man with his eyes sparkling. This detail didn’t go unnoticed by his mother, who slowly straightened up in her armchair and sipped a bit of her tea. She needed to save time to think carefully about all of this.

“Do you remember Sir Jonghyun’s judgement, my son ?” She eventually asked, surprising both men as they didn’t expect such a question.

“I do.” The King replied. “But how is it related to our issue ?”

“There is something you said that day, something extremely controversial and that caused trouble among the Royal Council’s members. Nevertheless, you considerably earned their respect with these words, because you imposed your way of ruling when they were seeing a young King Minseok in you.”

“What do you mean ?”

“That day, you said that even with as much power as he can have, a king cannot go against love. You saved a man’s life and gave Jinju a great teacher, with this belief, and now I am telling you that the way you want to rule without forgetting about love, is admirable. Dangerous, but admirable.”

“Thank you, Mother, but…”

“I guess we are still struggling to understand where this is going, your Majesty.” Kibum intervened, frowning.

“I have heard you.” The Queen said. “And even though I am not able to propose you a solution at the moment to allow your marriage to remain as it is, while ensuring an heir for Jinju… I will find one. It is unfortunate that I could not give birth to another child, and I understood, your Grace, that you do not have any relative ?”

“I do not, I only had my sister because both my parents are only children. Would have it been useful for me to have a cousin or something ?”

“Yes, I remember some really ancient laws and one can make a sovereign adopt someone from their spouse’s blood to make them an heir. The chosen person would not have any royal blood by birth, but symbolically, through marriage. It really is a rare situation but it occurred in the past, otherwise it would not be inscribed in our laws.”

“I see… But my sister and I were the last ones carrying my father’s name and blood.”

“Then I will have to search for another solution. For the time being, I suggest both of you keep fulfilling your responsibilities like you always do. There is only one kingdom left for you to visit, and I believe it would be a good idea to not waste time.”

“I will send an envoy to Pugye immediately.” Minho nodded before he stood up, bowing in front of him mother and imitated by his husband right away. “Thank you, Mother, I am beyond grateful and I hope you will find a way, we—”

“Do not thank me now, my son. Nothing is done, and I do not want you to raise your hopes too high. Please keep in mind that if there is no way for you to give an heir to Jinju, your marriage will have to be annulled.”

Both husbands looked up and nodded, before bowing again with all the gratefulness they couldn’t hold back. With the Queen Mother by their side, even if not fully convinced, they could allow themselves to hope. And hope was all they needed.

Taemin was wearing a whole new uniform as he was in the palace’s temple, bowing fully and allowing himself a moment of peace to pray. A bit more than a week had passed since the first hunt and his witnessing of the General and the teacher’s obvious fight, but he couldn’t let anything trouble him that day. Because it was his day, and the only person he had to think about was him, no one else. That was how he had found himself in this quiet place where he could be alone and only caring about himself.

The sun had risen already, but the hunters hadn’t left, for they had to be in their greatest shape for what was coming. The young apprentice eventually straightened up, looking at the Gods’ statues standing before him. He would need all his strength and mind, because that day was the day of tests for all soldiers. Passing these tests would mean being named a soldier, and not a simple recruit anymore ; it would mean joining the King’s army for good, one of his biggest dreams if not the biggest.

At first, he had told the few recruits from the squad he had become friends with, that he didn’t think he would try his luck. After all, they weren’t of the same kind, he was the General’s apprentice and a close friend of the Prince… he didn’t want to get some privileged treatment by being allowed to take a test for real recruits. That was what he had thought until Kibum himself had come to find him and kick his ass.

Obviously, Jinki hadn’t understood his refusal and perhaps had he let it slip at an random moment when the Prince had his ears close. Taemin smiled at the memory of his best friend finding him in the stables at that time, alone with the horses… and scolding him like he had never been scolded. He hadn’t expected Kibum to reproach him for not accepting to be tested, especially when he had made his elder worried sick for months about his training.

In the end, it had been him who had convinced his young companion that after everything he had done, the long path he had managed to take… he couldn’t not take the opportunity to show his skills and be recognise for them. As he stood up, Taemin took a deep breath and left the temple with determined steps, rushing to the indoors yard where all his fellows were already waiting, either standing or sitting on the few benches.

Jinki had been clear when he had announced the upcoming selection test : each recruit would present themselves alone in the front yard, reorganised to become a whole assault course. The purpose was for each of them to show their stamina, agility and reflexes, by passing through a few fixed obstacles but also moving ones — everything had been meticulously prepared with impressive mechanisms. But once the race would be done, the tested recruit would then have to complete two more trials : answer a history question and show their skills in a field they chose to specialise, could it be duelling, archery or strategy.

While he joined his few friends, Taemin thought about what was awaiting them. None of the recruits seemed anxious, they all were mostly excited and couldn’t hide their pride to finally be tested. Naturally, some were a bit prouder than others, but the apprentice had learned to ignore them and focus on himself. Once on the ground, he would be alone. And he was thrilled. He was joyfully chatting with the other guys when the doors opened on the General, making everyone stand to attention.

“At ease.” Jinki commanded before sweeping the orderly crowd with his eyes. “Recruits, the time of your selection test has come. You will be watched by me, of course, but also by his Highness and his Grace, who do us the honour to attend this event. As the very first soldier I’ve ever trained, our King will have his say on your selection, we will study each of your route together. I’m counting on you, you all worked hard during these months of training and I’m sure every single of my recruits can pass this test. Don’t give your best to make me proud, but to be proud of yourself. Now, when your name is called, please present yourself at the west end of the yard and be ready for your trials.”

With these words, the General saluted his recruits and introduced his father, the former General Lee Jinseok and now member of the Royal Council, who would call them one after another. It was so impressive to have such an experienced man standing there before them, that all recruits found themselves not daring to chat with each other for the first minutes of tests.

Time flew by, and the indoors yard kept emptying itself under the command of Sir Lee. From inside, they could hear the gong announcing the beginning of the test for a recruit, then a second one once they were done. Mechanically, the other young men started counting the seconds between two gongs, showing themselves either impressed when one of their fellows finished quite fast, or worried if one took a bit more time than it should. The bond between them had grown so much that most of them were more anxious for their brothers in arms than for themselves.

“Lee Taemin.”

The latter jumped with surprise when he heard his name being called. Immediately chasing his sudden fear away, he stood up and welcomed the encouraging taps his friends gave him on the shoulder or the back. After bowing to his mentor’s father, he looked behind him one last time and left, adjusting his bun to make sure no strand would bother him right from the beginning. In no time, he arrived at the west end of the front yard and his eyes widened : the course was no joke, with countless obstacles to pass through while running.

As he positioned himself at the starting point of the trial, he looked up to see his spectators. On top of huge stairs that overlooked the whole yard, the sovereigns were sitting on their respective throne, wearing their ceremonial attires. He could only distinguish them since they were quite far away, but Taemin noticed the discreet hand gesture his best friend made in his direction. With a smile, he returned it and felt like a wave of strength had submerged him.

Before the gong rang, he heard a whistle on his left and when he turned his head, he saw Jonghyun standing there, watching him from afar and bowing his head to support him in his turn. So even the blonde teacher had come for him despite his own situation… the apprentice’s heart almost exploded with gratitude and when he heard the loud noise, he threw himself in the trial of his life.

Before meeting Jinki, he would have run like mad without analysing the upcoming obstacles, and he would certainly have failed fast. But his training and his quality mentor had been useful, and the young man breathtakingly avoided the first obstacles, the precision and agility of his movements showing that he was able to anticipate the next ones. However, when the first moving obstacle appeared in front of him, he got surprised and almost stumbled, but where someone else would have, he rolled.

He couldn’t see it because he was too focused, but this so special way to avoid made the King laugh, and the Prince smile proudly. The General had to keep a straight face, even more with the so special man to his heart being in the audience, but he wasn’t less proud of his pupil. He ran the track back up, his agility being an useful asset of his and giving the impression he was about to fly away whenever he jumped above an obstacle.

Once he arrived and the gong resounded in the yard, he leaned on and put his hands on his bent knees to catch his breath, waiting for the next trials. In no time, Jinki reached him and bowed his head towards him, giving him a few minutes with some water before rolling a scroll out. As soon as Taemin was in shape again, he noticed Kibum had slightly leaned on, willing to hear the question, along with Jonghyun who had approached even though he stood apart.

The blonde somehow had a responsibility in his friend’s history skills, and he had worked for so long hours at night to prepare him these history lessons…

“Lee Taemin.” The General called.

“Yes Sir.” The recruit stood to attention.

“At ease. You fulfilled your first trial, now you will have to answer a question and demonstrate your duelling skills.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Here is your question : what has been Baemyeong’s offensive strategy during the second war ?”

Hearing the question, Jonghyun couldn’t help but tense up. It was a tricky one, and he knew Taemin could often forget about huge things in favour of tiny details. The second war of the Five Kingdoms had been the subject of a scroll he had given to the boy, he was hoping so much that the latter had studied well…

“None. Baemyeong didn’t take active part in the second war.” The recruit replied. “They only furnished Jinju and Pugye with medicinal supplies in secret.”

“Correct.”

Hiding a smile, Jinki rolled the scroll up while on the side of the track, the teacher couldn’t refrain himself from making a victory gesture with his arm. On his throne, Kibum sighed with relief and made his husband laugh a bit : they wouldn’t deny it, Taemin was their favourite even if they tried their best not to show it…

The final trial had come for the apprentice, and he reached the small stage where had been drawn a perfect circle. Unsheathing his sword, he quickly understood the rules when an older soldier joined him with his own weapon : the first one to leave the circle loses. Taemin breathed deeply and positioned himself, his blade shining under the sun, and when Jinki gave his signal, he waited for his opponent to attack him.

Once the other man approached to duel, the recruit started to walk around him, avoiding his sword. But the soldier was older, more experienced, he wouldn't fall for such an easy trap : he played a tricky blow that almost sent Taemin outside the circle in less than a second, but fortunately the boy had had a reflex, only falling on one knee. Above the stage, the Prince held his breath and refrained himself from standing up. Now, it was starting.

The apprentice eventually answered the blows, gradually showing his attacking force contrasting with his nimble gestures. And when he really stepped in, everything went as expected : his opponent got surprised by his first roll, and the next ones were enough to trouble him to the extent he made a mistake. A single mistake which tipped the scales in Taemin’s favour. He attacked.

His sword was quick and made the other man step backwards, struggling to adjust his standing foot while defending himself against the assaults. He fought bravely, but the recruit’s youth and agility got the better of him : a last roll and Taemin was behind him at the very limit of the circle, pulling his leg to make him fall and pushing him outside the line. A piercing whistle announced the end of the duel, and once again the teacher and the Prince refrained themselves from showing their pride too much.

Standing up, Taemin helped his senior by offering him his arm, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed for most of his fellows hadn’t thought of doing it when winning over their opponent. The General slightly smiled and watched his apprentice bow before him, then before the sovereigns, and leave on his command to join the recruits who were done. He remained professional and pretended to completely be indifferent… until he was out of sight and let his joy explode in his brothers’ arms.

He didn’t know if he had done everything the way he should, but he was proud of himself. And that was all that mattered, after such a long path that he had been able to take. With great excitement, he told his fellows about his test and listened to them doing the same, his little squad keeping his mind busy during the rest of the tests’ time.

The ending came quite fast and Taemin eventually felt his stomach tighten now that he was following his fellows to the front yard, all together this time, to line up. Once all recruits were standing to attention with the General before them, the King and Prince graciously stood up from their throne. Minho offered his hand to his husband, who smiled and accepted it despite the fact they were observed, and the sovereigns walked down the stairs together.

The post-trial ceremony could start, Jinki calling every recruit one after another to come and stand in front of him to bow and receive his result. Whether they passed or failed, they show their respects to their rulers and for those who were now able to become soldiers, the King proceeded to a form of dubbing, using his sword while the Prince furnished each of them with soldiers’ epaulettes. When Taemin was called before them, they looked at each other with anxiety and quietly waited fir the General to announce the outcome of his trial.

“Lee Taemin, eighteen years of age.” Jinki said, his voice loud and firm. “Passed.”

Kibum pursed his lips as all his dread seemed to disappear within a second, holding two small tears of pride back. Facing them, the newly named soldier stuck out his chest when receiving his dubbing, and he couldn’t refrain himself from smiling to his best friend, his eyes shining. Discreetly, the Prince patted his shoulder before letting him go, for they still had a few recruits to congratulate after him.

But once it was done and the King announced that all new soldiers and recruits who failed were dismissed for the day, allowed to do whatever they wanted until the next morning, Kibum waited for every one to have left the yard. After he made sure only remained Taemin and him, still accompanied by his husband and the General, he grabbed his best friend and pulled him into the tightest hug ever. The soldier laughed as he returned the embrace.

“Hyung, you’re suffocating me.” He said, smiling when he was released to have his face patted like a child. “Hyung !”

“Look at you, pumpkin.” The Prince ignored his protests, touching his cheeks and hair. “You’re lucky you passed because I would have kicked your ass so hard. Worrying me sick for months and not passing ? You would have feared me.”

“You’re really not good at congratulating.”

“Just come here, I’m so proud of you.”

Saying this, the raven haired man didn’t give any choice to Taemin and hugging him once more, shaking him to show his excitement. Standing next to them, Minho smiled and looked at his childhood friend, who couldn’t hide his own pride. After all, Jinki had trained this young man personally, he had developed a different kind of bond with him than with his fellows… it was like attending a little brother’s graduation ceremony.

“You did very well, son.” The General says, putting his hand on his apprentice’s shoulder once Kibum freed him. “We’ll work a bit more your duelling skills but you were impressive today.”

“Thank you, Sir !” Taemin joyfully replied, his bright smile making everyone feel like they had the allegory of happiness standing before them. “My opponent was so good, I was afraid I couldn’t beat him.”

“But you did, and you managed to destabilise him with something that is completely your way.” The King stated. “When you will be a bit more trained, I have no doubt that I will put my trust in your to protect your sovereign.”

“I will do my best, your Highness !”

As they keep chatting, alone in the yard, Jonghyun observed them from afar. He wanted to join them, to congratulate his protégé the way he deserved it. But his legs refused to move, knowing that Jinki was there too. He felt so stupid, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to go ! His body just wasn’t obeying him, and here he was, standing near the front door and feeling like the only movement he could make was a step to leave. He hated it.

Fortunately, Taemin ended up noticing him and waved at him. With a smile, the teacher waved back but his feet remained unmoving, keeping him stuck where he was. His frustration was quickly replaced by a form of relief he clearly didn’t understand, when he saw the young boy running to him.

“Hyung, I did it !” He shouted before throwing himself in his friend’s arms.

“There you go.” Jonghyun replied, hugging the other tight. “You were so amazing, and that question ? You didn't fall in the trap, I’m really proud.”

“I’m so glad you came to watch me, why don’t you join us ?”

“Ah, no, I will go back to the school. I have some business, you know… things to do.”

“Really ? But —”

“Don’t worry about me and enjoy your victory, soldier.”

The teacher softly rubbed Taemin’s hair on the back of his head before his eyes looked above his shoulders and fell on the three other men looking at them. If the King and Prince were smiling at him, the General seemed… emotionless. And when he looked away, Jonghyun cleared his throat and bid goodbye to his friend before turning around and walking away.

The young boy frowned and turned over to look at his elders, noticing Kibum was suddenly frowning and turned his head towards Jinki, who pursed his lips. As the raven haired man made a move to follow his former teacher, he was prevented from doing it by his husband, who reminded him he couldn’t go out like this. The Prince bit his lip and looked up towards Taemin, who got the message. The latter nodded and without further ado, he ran after their common friend.

It didn’t take long to catch Jonghyun, who was walking damn faster than usual, as if in a rush to lock himself in his apartment. Now he couldn’t dare deny he was feeling good.

“Hyung, you can’t stay like this.” The young boy asked after a few seconds just walking by his side. “Why are you so in a rush ?”

“I just want to go home and rest, Taemin.” The blonde man replied, his face closed. “Coming here is tiring, you know, when you live at the other end of town.”

“That’s not the only reason, when will you stop lying ?”

“What are you talking about ? When did I even lie to you ?”

“You didn’t exactly lied, but you’re hiding something. Don’t think I don’t see things, and the General and you clearly are in bad terms. I know you broke up, and I can see you’re not living it well.”

“Can you stop calling that a break up ? We were just having sex together, that’s all. He decided to stop, I wasn’t going to force him to stay.”

“But you wanted to, right ? Come on, hyung… why are you so sensitive over this if it was just sex ?”

“I don’t know, Taemin ! Maybe it’s just… me, experiencing withdrawals symptoms. I haven’t had sex for almost three weeks now.”

“That’s the worst excuse you ever told me.”

Taemin rolled his eyes and ignored his elder sighing, as he kept following him. He definitely wasn’t going to let him like this.

“Just let me tell you something.” He said. “I perfectly know how you think, about relationships and all. But… don’t you think your reaction to this simple stop fucking is exaggerated if it was just sex ? Sincerely.”

“I told you. Withdrawal. My hormones are talking.”

“Oh please, you’re being a pain in the ass, hyung ! Even Kibum hyung noticed something was wrong between you two !”

“There is nothing wrong between us, we just ended—”

“Yeah, I heard it right the first time. Remember how you always told me that whenever I have an identity crisis, I should come to you ? Remember when you told me that I shouldn’t be ashamed of my thoughts and feelings, whatever they are ? Why can’t you do this… would it be so bad to admit that, perhaps, you have feelings for him ? And what you’re feeling is just… I mean, you’re missing him ? Not the sex, him ?”

Jonghyun sighed again, suddenly feeling trapped and with cold sweat running down his nape. The more he was hearing, the angrier he got. Or was it really anger ? He didn’t know, but what was sure is that never would he say he had feelings for Jinki. Jinki had feelings for him, Jinki left to be fair with him. He had nothing to say, nothing to reproach himself with. And never would he allow himself to feel something as fake as love.

“Feelings, love…” He started saying. “They never last.”

“What do you mean ?” Taemin frowned. “You always rejected them so how can you even say that ? And why do you say that ?”

“I know what I’m talking about, you’ve never seen my parents. Love never lasts, it only hurts and is more dangerous than a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Hyung, your parents…?”

“Withdrawal, I’m just feeling withdrawal symptoms, can you leave me with that ? Please, Taemin.”

Without waiting for an answer, the blonde stopped talking and walked faster, leaving the young boy behind. Taemin eventually stopped following him and watched him disappear from his sight, his eyebrows furrowed. Withdrawal, my ass. How did he even come up with such an excuse ? It was so obvious that his friend was willingly refusing the slightest feeling he had for the General… and even if the young soldier had no real proof to think that before, now he had one.

What had happened between Jonghyun’s parents, for their son to fear love feelings to the point he rejected them, avoided them like the plague ?

The envoy to Pugye had returned the day following the soldiers’ ceremony, with a positive answer from the rulers. Even the words chosen showed how thrilled they were to soon receive the King and Prince of Jinju. Kibum had felt a bit overwhelmed by all that positivity towards him, at first he had commented that it was perhaps some insane curiosity and not real excitement to seen them… but Minho had chases his worries away with just a few words and a kiss.

It was true that the changement their unusual couple implied could pique one’s curiosity, but the King had always been a bit more optimistic than his husband. All rulers from other kingdoms had shown themselves professional and aimable towards the new Prince, only Siwon had been an exception. After the good reception of Pugye’s letter, Minho had had a bit of a hard time trying to reassure Kibum, who was wondering if this enthusiasm wasn’t to be understand like they were some circus freaks.

Eventually, the Prince had put his negative thoughts aside, his mind comforted by his husband and kept busy by the preparations for the journey. The White Sea’s kingdom was the farthest from there, but also considered as the most beautiful and healing, the town and castle being perched on low cliffs overhanging the sea and its long beaches of white sand. The Queen Mother, who was a relative of Pugye’s King’s family, had assured her son-in-law that travelling to the seaside would make him forget all his worries.

The journey was planned for the next day, and Minho was sitting on his husband’s bed, watching the latter getting his clothes ready.

“The weather must be windy near the sea…” Kibum was thinking out loud. “And we’ll be on a cliff, right ?”

“Right, but I suggest you take your lightest coats.” The King replied. “Spring is getting hotter and I believe seasons are passion by normally now, so summer will come soon.”

“I love summer.”

This statement made Minho smile, as it wasn’t the first time the Prince was letting an information about his tastes out. It was like his husband was finding another way to talk about his preferences, since it was a real struggle of his. Thus, from times to times, he would let something slip, something that made the King know a bit more about him.

“What about the green one ?” He eventually asked.

“This one ? Isn’t it too dark ? I like moss green though…” Kibum thought out loud, holding his chin while reflecting.

“No, the other one, the one with the apple colour.”

“Apple colour…? Wait, this one ? That’s tea green !”

“My apologies.”

“It will go well with a honeydew shirt… granted, your Highness !”

Laughing, Minho watched the other man take a few more clothes and carefully putting them in his luggages. Strangely, it was a curious show he enjoyed a lot, the Prince running here and there, going to the closet with an item of clothing but coming back with another one, or placing a hair pin on a coat to make sure they matched. That was at that kind of moments he appreciated that a King’s wardrobe was quite limited — it was always the Queen, in this case the Prince, who would impress by her diverse attires, all gorgeous next to their royal husband in his ceremonial red and gold clothes.

At one point, the young man grew bored of just watching and he stood up, grabbing his husband by the waist when he passed by him, and pulling him against his chest. Kibum gasped, both his hands raised with pins and necklaces in them.

“What are you doing ?” He whined. “It’s not the time to play, I’m not done packing !”

“Come on, you can take a break.” Minho pouted, tightening his hold. “I feel lonely.”

“I’m literally two meters away from you, you’re just insufferable because you hate not having my attention on you and you only.”

“That’s true. Thank you for acknowledging it.”

“What—”

The King laughed and silenced the other man by pressing their lips together, ignoring how the body against him was wriggling to try escaping his grip. However, whenever there was a kiss involved, he always won. In no time, Kibum gave in to him and returned the kiss quite voraciously. When he withdrew, his lips were all swollen already and his cheeks pink.

“Now that the baby got fed, can I please go back to my packing ?” He said, pretending to be annoyed when he clearly liked the moment.

“What if I’m still hungry ?” Minho teased him, pecking his lips.

“By the Gods, your balls are within my knee’s reach, don’t try me.”

“You’re so rude, that’s not how a Prince should behave.”

“That’s not what you were saying the other night, your Highness.”

Checkmate. The King laughed out loud and stole one last kiss before releasing his husband. He sat back on the bed and quietly observed him, not messing with him anymore ; he liked to just look at him when Kibum was busy, because his facial expressions were quite amusing. A frown here, a pout here… and the way he focused when counting how many outfits he needed for the journey and the stay at Pugye.

His eyes were so expressive they were like an open book, and Minho never grew tired of reading another page. It had been three months since their first — and last — journey as the royal couple of Jinju, and he somehow regretted that the meetings with Baemyeong and Maguk didn’t go as traditionally planned. He felt like he had missed so many things with his beloved husband, far from the kingdom where they were a bit freer.

He was looking forward to their new trip, especially since he had made sure to forget a second mattress for the royal tent. To err was human, they said, and with Kibum around, the young King loved to be human.

***

The night had fallen on the plains where the royal convoy had set up camp, for the third time since their departure. It was the last night under the stars, for their next one would be spent in the warmth of Pugye’s castle. All soldiers have gone to bed already, except for the General who was on watch for the first part of the night, keeping an eye on the campfire and around. He felt a bit lonely, strangely, since it was the first time ever Taemin had refused to come. But the flames were keeping him company.

Hidden under the stretched canvas of their tent with an oil lamp as the only soft source of light, the King and the Prince were lying on their shared mattress, embraced and their lips locked together. Minho’s hand was holding Kibum’s waist, who was caressing his neck while nibbling his lower lip. Their legs were interlaced, the fabric of one’s nightshirt brushing the other’s pants.

After a while, the elder let go of the younger and their gazes melt into each other as their fingers grazed their skin.

“Everyone’s asleep…” Minho whispered. “What if we took the opportunity and ran away…?��

“Sounds like someone needs to sleep too.” Kibum slightly laughed, pecking his husband’s lips. “Live on love alone ? Is it your plan for us ?”

“Why not ? Just like in the old times, sleeping under the stars with only us to warm ourselves, hunting to eat… doesn’t it sound good ?”

“I’ve been ranting for the past three days because we had to sleep on the floor and you’re sincerely asking my opinion about a wild life ?”

“You’re even more loveable when you rant. The more you rant, the more I want to kiss you to keep you quiet.”

“Oh, then let me tell you one thing, if there is something I really hate—”

The message was crystal clear and the King laughed before crushing the Prince’s lips with his, cutting him short without a single regret. Naturally, the other man smiled in their kiss and returned it, his fingers running through the thick, dark brown hair he loved so much. Each time they kissed on this small mattress, the elder found himself reminded of the very first time they had to share such a space, and how they had made sure to never touch each other while sleeping.

He remembered the void between their backs, a void that was now filled with warmth and love, closed with hands and lips. But the memory that came to his mind at some moment made him break their kiss, his eyes enlightened with a glint of cheekiness.

“What’s on your mind…” Minho smiled when he noticed it.

“Do you remember our first journey ?” Kibum asked him, biting his lip. “How you didn’t want me to escape from you again, and followed me to the river ?”

“Of course I do. Can I confess now that it was the hardest ordeal ever ? I wanted to look at you so much…”

“What if we fixed it tonight…? The river is just there, everyone is asleep and Jinki won’t stop us…”

“You want us to have a midnight swim…?”

The raven haired man nodded and unlocked their bodies to stand up, grabbing his husband’s hand to make him stand too. In no time they had put a coat and slippers on, and with a towel on their arm, they left the warmth of the tent for the cool spring night. They slowly made their way through the other tents, making sure not to make a sound until they found themselves near the campfire. There, the General was poking the flames to keep them alive, and when he stood up, he caught sight of the men standing not far.

Frowning, he stared at them and detailed their silhouette, recognising his sovereigns without any difficulty and eventually noticing the towels. He was a smart man, the two runaways didn’t have to tell him what they were planning. At first he rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed, but he decided that if they had any problem, he would certainly hear the Prince’s high-pitched voice. With only a movement of his head, he notified them that he would turn a blind eye to their little getaway, but intimated them to be careful.

Thanking him with a bright smile, Minho and Kibum started trotting around, leaving the camp and walking down the small hill. Since the sea wasn’t that far away, the river was close to its mouth and so, quite large. However it shouldn’t be deep enough for them to really have water to the level of their shoulders. Once they were there, with their feet in the cold water, both men looked at each other and a shared smiled sealed it.

Their coats fell on the floor and while the Prince removed his shirt, the King let his pants slide down and two naked silhouettes gradually entered the river. Compared to the first time, there wasn’t any shyness, any prudishness anymore, they could even glance at each other while the slow path in the cold liquid was making their muscles tense up. It took them a few moments but they eventually sat in the river’s bed, water surprisingly reaching their chest.

As one man, they approached and held each other, Kibum sitting on his husband’s lap and embracing his neck with his arms, pressing their naked bodies together. It was like an electric wave, this combination of the water’s coolness and the warmth they lit on each other every time they touched each other.

“You’re sure you couldn’t live like this…?” The brown haired man tried again, only making the other laugh. “I’m certain we could survive well on our own.”

“I will consider it, but remember that the thing I love the most after you is a good bed.” The elder retorted. “I can’t have a good bed if I live in a forest.”

“I can make you one, every night, I will build you one with wood and create a comfortable mattress with countless leaves. And I will be your blanket.”

“You have way too much imagination, my King…”

Smiling, Kibum softly put his lips on Minho’s, kissing him gently at first, only grazing him as if he was made of the purest glass. But once the King started returning it, the kiss grew more feverish, warmer, even the river’s water seeming lukewarm at some point. They wouldn’t sleep together for a few days, forced to be in separate bedrooms… they would miss each other’s arms so much that they couldn’t hit the road again the day after without taking as much as they could.

When Minho moved from his sitting position to be on his knees, one arm firmly holding Kibum on his lap while his free hand grabbed his thigh to slowly pull it, making him embrace his hips with his legs. The elder obeyed to every movement he was quietly told to make, a sigh escaping his lips when his crotch was pressed against his husband’s, the latter ceasing their kiss to feel it better.

Slowly, their eyes dived into each other, their lips only a few centimetres apart and their breaths growing desynchronised. When they locked their mouths again, the water didn’t seem cold anymore, for only the warmth of their bodies pressed together mattered. While everyone was asleep, only the moonlight witnessed the sweet passion the lover shared, keeping them enlightened to allow them to never lost sight of each other.

#minkey #minho #key #kibum #shinee #fanfic #historical #kingdom of jinju #jongyu #jonghyun #onew #jinki #taemin

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softshelltaakos · 6 years ago

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what’s up everybody! it’s time for part 2 of my taz graphic novel review.

part one covered (most of) my beef with the writing and storytelling choices. this part is gonna cover character designs!!! you should know going into this that my opinions are not positive. this post is also a lot less analytical in tone than part 1, because art is not my forte.

disclaimer: i love the mcelroys. i truly do. taz has gotten me through some very difficult stuff and i have a tattoo. all this to say i’m not doing this because i hate them or because i like hating things. if you feel the need to message me about how i am overreacting, specifically to green taako, or about how i should just calm down and ignore it, or about how it’s sad that i’m getting so worked up instead of just enjoying the show, i’ve heard it and i don’t care. you will not be taken seriously. save yourself the energy.

there are spoilers for the graphic novel under the cut.

alright. i’m getting the elephant in the room out of the way first because it’s the most important thing to address, and once it’s out of my system i’ll feel better goofing on the rest of the designs. as i mentioned in the disclaimer: Green Taako Is Bad.

[ID: a panel focusing on taako. he’s skinny and minty green with chin-length light blonde hair and a big, pointy nose.]

now, a lot of people have made posts about this before, and i’m not saying anything new about it by any means. i’m also not the most equipped person to talk about why green taako is bad, because i’m a white gentile (i’ve heard conflicting opinions on whether or not green taako is antisemitic, but it feels remiss not to mention that there’s been discussion) and therefore not part of any groups affected by this whole debacle, but in short: when pressed for more diversity, specifically in taako’s case as a pretty large chunk of his arc involves literally inventing a mexican cultural food (fun note: that’s never mentioned in this book,) carey pietsch decided he should be green and the mcelroys were down with it. this is not an issue that cropped up when this design was released; it was something that there was already a ton of discourse surrounding, and it should never have gotten concepts drawn, let alone made it to publish.

this article by natt cuesta has been linked before on the subject, and i think it’s a good, concise explanation of why green taako is bad as well as why aracial characters in general are bad. this is a racist design.

now that we’ve gotten those ethical ramifications out of the way... i’m sorry, but it’s an ugly design, lmao. he looks like a palette-swapped version of pearl from steven universe with less character. the ONLY thing about this design that i like is the prominent lower lashes, if only because they’re the only thing that keeps him from looking entirely generic. because, like, y’all, when has anything about taako been generic?

[ID: a panel focusing on magnus. he’s a muscular fair-skinned man with auburn hair, a bushy beard, and a scar over his left eye.]

generic is a word that’s going to come up a lot over the course of this review, because i genuinely can’t think of a more apt descriptor for pietsch’s designs. it feels like she went with the lowest common denominator of every character’s design, a synthesis of all of the most popular (and most boring) ones, except in instances where that would lend any personality to a character’s design. magnus fits what brief description we’re given in the podcast: auburn hair. beard. big. and i guess that’s all you need?

i understand that by appealing to the most common and basic designs for these characters you’re inviting a lot less ire than you might by going with something more individual, so i get the motivation behind it -- or i would, if her designs hadn’t always been about this dull. but it’s bizarre to me that in a story as unique as the balance campaign, we ended up with the most basic ass Fantasy Hero lookin’ dude in the world as one of our protagonists.

i just really don’t have a lot to say about this. i’m just bored by it.

[ID: a panel of merle. he has medium-dark skin with a smooth white bun and beard.]

merle is simultaneously the design i like most out of the boys and the one that throws me the most, because i feel like he’s the most out on a limb one. which... oof. most merle designs i see give him a floral motif (i guess he has a few petals in his hair, maybe?) and big coke-bottle glasses, and i miss those things with this design, but at least it doesn’t totally feel like pietsch threw every merle she could get her hands on into a blender and poured it out on a page, although honestly, that might have been more satisfying. people do some really fun shit with their merle designs, but again, he’s. generic.

as the cuesta article mentions, with how much of an issue it was to get any of the boys to be poc in the first place and in conjunction with minty up there, this design also feels like tokenism -- an appeasement rather than an honest attempt at diversity or god forbid because the artist actually headcanons merle as a person of color. personally, i wish that she’d gone a step beyond re-coloring his skin and idk given him a natural hairstyle or something. he still feels very much like a recolor to me rather than a character who was designed as a person of color from the beginning.

i feel like he looks more like a cleric than he looks like a merle, which i feel like is pretty contradictory to who merle is.

[ID: a cutaway showing griffin, a white man with brown hair and glasses wearing a collared shirt.]

i’ve said before that it feels a little odd to talk about her design of a real person, so i’ll keep this brief, but... you know how every drawing of a basic white dude looks a little bit like griffin mcelroy? you know how that one arthur character looks a little bit like griffin mcelroy? you know how everyone is constantly messaging mysillycomics about how her avatar looks like griffin mcelroy?

how did carey pietsch manage to actively attempt to draw griffin mcelroy and miss the mark? it boggles the mind. he doesn’t not look like griffin, i guess, but he doesn’t look like griffin, either. i don’t know, man

[ID: a generic gerblin. he has yellowy-green skin, slight tusks or fangs, and weird, nubby little horn-type things.]

i hate these gerblins. they are ugly. next

[ID: two images of klaarg/g’nash. he’s a bugbear with brown fur and yellow eyes as well as a mouth full of pointy teeth. in the first image he looks pissed off; in the second he’s starry-eyed and delighted.]

klaarg is probably my favorite design in the book, and that’s just because he looks like a cute dog for most of the time he’s on the page. he’s fluffy and i love klaarg anyway, so like. did not take a lot to reach this mark. especially considering how i feel about most of the other designs lmfao

i do definitely think he keeps up the trend of looking generic, though.

[ID: an image of barry bluejeans. he looks like tom arnold, kind of; he’s square-jawed and white with thick-rimmed glasses. he also has a light brown mullet.]

i hate this. i hate the mullet. i’m sorry, y’all, i really, truly, cannot stand the mullet. i don’t feel like barry has mullet energy. i feel like it’s too powerful a move for him. it wouldn’t be a good move, mind you, but it would be a big one. i don’t know y’all it’s just bad

[ID: an image of killian. she’s a green-skinned orc woman with prominent eyelashes, eyebrows, and tusks, and straight brown hair.]

i can’t have been the only one who was hoping for a badass, visibly muscular, maybe even butch killian design, right? that wasn’t just me being a big old lesbian, that’s a pretty common theme of killian designs? i guess kudos for going out on a limb again, but then, like, take the kudos back for going out on the most boring limb possible again. i could hang with the face if her hair wasn’t so boring, but it’s... it’s so boring

[ID: an image of magic brian. he’s a drow with long white hair and an oblong face and oddly shaped nose.]

for how many of her designs are syntheses of popular ones, i..... don’t understand how this happened. i don’t understand how whimiscal and flamboyant magic brian who’s often drawn as taako-but-a-goth-dark-elf ended up looking like this. he looks like he used to play football and got his nose busted up and peaked in fantasy high school. he looks like the first quarter of a monster factory video where the thing’s just ugly but doesn’t have a personality or any endearing traits yet. he didn’t have to be the goth twink we all know he is but what.......... is this

[ID: an image of gundren rockseeker/bogard. he’s a light-skinned dwarf with dark long hair and a matching beard.]

..........listen i know they’re cousins and distant cousins at that but all of merle’s cousins are light-skinned and, like, not to say that that can’t happen but having them be anywhere near merle’s skin tone would’ve been such an easy way to help bolster the obviously inaccurate idea that this is a work concerned with diverse character designs, or rather to help ppl claim it was being bolstered, and yet

[ID: avi, a fair-skinned man with long dark hair kept up in a ponytail and slight scruff on his face.]

i feel like maybe avi is intended to be east asian so i think at this point that brings the count up to a whole two characters of color. we’re almost done with the book. cool. he’s cute, i guess, but guess what word i’m about to say again (it’s generic)

[ID: a panel of several unnamed cameo characters. from right to left: carey fangbattle, a light blue dragonborn; brad bradson, a green orc man with a long brown ponytail; and presumably lucas miller, a tan human with glasses and dark hair.]

ok. deep breaths.

first off, there’s another panel w these three as well as boyland, who looks fine, but i didn’t grab that one bc it’s harder to make out detail. carey is cute. brad is fine.

i assume the third guy is lucas miller because i’m not entirely sure who else he would be, and... oof! as you may know i can’t stand lucas miller, which has nothing to do with his necromancy or nerdiness and everything to do with the various human rights violations he commits in the small time he’s got focus as well as the fact that he’s got a theoretical redemption arc that’s not actually an arc so much as us being told he’s better now. lucas is an entitled jackass who repeatedly uses other people’s bodies and minds without their consent, from the obvious offense of using the bugbears as brainwashed chore-doers (read: slaves) to the less-oft discussed dragging of noelle and others out of the astral plane into robot bodies, again to do his chores for him. because of this, it has always sat very uncomfortably with me when people make lucas a poc, because everything about him screams Shitty White Nerd Boy to me. it sits extra uncomfortably coming from carey pietsch, given how white all of her other designs are.

it’s a little hard to tell because i took all these pics with my phone camera in my room’s lighting so they’re not super high fidelity or anything, but pietsch’s lucas is noticeably darker than any other character we’ve seen so far save merle. maybe he’s just a white guy with a tan, but all the same, it strikes me as incredibly skeevy to have one of so few characters of color be this fucking guy.

[ID: johann, a black man with an oblong face and textured dark hair.]

johann’s design is fine, although this is a similar face shape to that brian from earlier and i just. i don’t. understand it. it’s not especially interesting, but hey, at least he’s not another generic white guy.

that being said, as i mentioned in part 1 of this review, johann’s role is severely cut in this -- he’s reduced to three panels, when in the show itself he’s the one who escorts the boys to the voidfish’s chamber and inoculates them. as i mentioned in that post i understand that they shifted it some to give lucretia a more prominent entrance, but as i also mentioned in that post, they should have compensated for that. three panels.

johann is not a character with a great deal of screentime as it is, but he’s a character with a major impact. he is the reason story and song happens. his song serves as a direct foil to john’s nihilistic conversion of his own home plane into the hunger. the fact that he’s been reduced to three panels with little to no characterization at this point, especially in conjunction with the fact that he’s one of very few poc, makes me really, really uncomfortable. avi is in more panels in this book than johann is, and while i love avi and as i said i am parsing him as an asian dude, he’s also still light-skinned enough and the style is nondescript enough that there are definitely people who will parse him as white, and also, avi’s role in the story is not as big as johann’s.

it doesn’t sit right with me.

[ID: an image of davenport, a fair-skinned man with a big red mustache and slicked back red hair.]

ginger davenport with a big mustache. groundbreaking.

[ID: an image of lucretia, a slender black woman with short white hair dressed in blue layers.]

and finally, lucretia. now, i’m biased, and it’s hard for me to see a lucretia design i don’t like. i also think that this is, compared to a lot of the others at least, one of the more interesting designs in the book, at least as far as her clothes go. it’s not a long robe that would be hard to move in, and i appreciate that -- it strikes me as a pretty practical outfit while also being ornamental and wizard-y. and she’s pretty, and she’s not whitewashed, and that’s all great. i like her earrings.

all that being said, i feel like it’s not enough. luc’s hair continues a theme with merle’s and johann’s (as well as the preview we’ve seen of angus,) which is that it strikes me as very low-effort on pietsch’s part. it’s short and it’s definitely not straight, but it doesn’t feel to me like it had as much thought put into it as, say, minty green taako’s hair. we could’ve had a lucretia with a big beautiful afro, or long box braids, or so many other natural hairstyles; we got this. it’s not bad, but i do think it’s disappointing. without going looking for it and without being a person who reads a great deal about character design, i’ve seen a fair amount of discussion from black women (artists, writers, and none of the above) about the portrayal of black women as it pertains to their hair. they’re never designed to be as feminine as their white counterparts. their hair is never treated with the same amount of detail or respect as their white counterparts. it’s short, maybe curly if you’re lucky.

i’m gonna circle back quickly to killian’s hair. it’s long and smooth and kept down, despite the fact that killian is an action-oriented women and might not want it to be in her face all the time -- it could have at least been braided or in a bun. it could’ve been short! and that would’ve made sense. and i don’t mean to say that lucretia couldn’t have short hair, but she’s a very elegant woman whose dress is described as intricate. she wears business regalia. she could have any number of hairstyles, from something elaborate to something simple but more out-of-the-box than this, but she doesn’t. i found this on a quick hunt through my ref tag -- it’s a tutorial for drawing black folks with just a small selection of interesting things you can do with afrotextured hair. these resources aren’t hard to find! and i’m doing this for fun -- carey pietsch is a professional artist who was paid for these designs. if she’d put in more than the bare minimum effort, we could’ve had some really interesting shit going on, but she didn’t.

and that’s the core of the issue here. i truly do not feel like pietsch put the same amount of care into the designs for the few characters of color we see as she did into the white ones, and that’s upsetting and emblematic of a larger problem in the work: neither pietsch nor the mcelroys put in very much care at all for the fans of color who spoke up and asked for representation.i know i said i was getting taako out of the way first so the majority of the post could be goof-heavy, but goddamn, y’all, it’s hard to goof about when it’s so blatantly shitty. pietsch’s designs are boring at best and racist at worst, not to mention conspicuously lacking in anyone who is not skinny, muscular, or a dwarf. people have praised this thing so uncritically, including people whose opinions i generally really respect, as if the fact that the mcelroys signing off on green taako made it above reproach.

it didn’t, by the way. there’s no such thing as an unproblematic fav, because everybody fucks something up now and then, but even then, this is a pretty egregious fuck-up! and it was willful!

i’m not saying y’all need to burn your copies of the gn or stop listening to the mcelroys entirely or anything of the sort -- you may remember the disclaimer at the top of the post where i say i really, really love them, and more specifically, i really love taz: balance. but i am BEGGING YOU to think critically about their work. good, good boys can do bad, bad things. white people can produce work that’s racist even if they’re gay women. it’s not mean to critique the boys and it’s not homophobic (or god forbid reverse racist, which is still not a real thing) to critique carey.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the real kicker of this whole thing for me is that there’s a small fanart gallery in the back of the book. most of them aren’t labeled with the artist’s handles, just their names, but there are some truly beautiful pieces featuring diverse designs -- galacticjonah and milkychai both have beautiful latino taakos featured! galacticjonah’s is fat, too! but even after the backlash against green taako, even aside from that being the design that people are going to accept as canonical, there are pieces in the gallery of green taako, as if doubling down on it was the right move.

and by the way, yeah, i’ve read griffin’s apology. but i thought we all learned in kindergarten that an apology doesn’t count if you don’t act on it.

#prim.txt #tazposting #tazmeta #taz: balance #taz balance #taz graphic novel

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zombageddon · 7 years ago

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Well wendy's gang, mabel's gang, and dipper and bill would be great, but if that's a bit much, dipper and bill is fine. Thanks!

Okay, so this might get a bit long for an ask, but I’m gonna do it anyway! I always feel weird describing characters in story, especially when I know the readers probably already have ideas about how they might look, but describing them here will probably be a good exercise for me, so, follow them if you want, or tweak them to suit your own headcanons, it’s all up to you as readers because I suck at putting this stuff on story.

Wendy: My version of Wendy looks a lot like an older version of who was in the show, with a few noticeable differences. Her hair is cut into a bob, and she’s got a bit more muscle now, instead of just being lanky. She’s lost her hat, but her outfits still favor rundown jeans, loose flannel over a tank top (or sometimes tied around her waist, when she gets hot or needs to move freely), and ankle boots. She’s also got a pseudo holster for her hatchet attached to her belt, it’s basically just a couple straps that button together around head to keep it secure. She’s also got a few leather bracelets, because can anyone truly be a badass without them?Robbie: Our awkward goth boy has grown up to be a nearly respectable gentleman! Since entering medical school, Robbie’s worked to make his look a little more professional. His bangs are shorter, and his acne has cleared up. He doesn’t have any facial piercings, but he’s still got both ears pierced, plus a few extra rings on the shell of his right ear. Snice it’s summertime, his outfits have started slipping back into goth tendencies, but his wardrobe has still changed. His jeans no longer have rips in them, and they’re not quite skin tight anymore, though his converse are still old and ratty with little skulls drawn on in sharpie. He also still has his trademark hoodie, and he wears it over various band t-shirts that come out whenever it gets too hot to wear the hoodie, or when the need for mobility outweighs the need to be a goth.

Tambry: Tambry has really just gotten more scene in college. Her hair is still purple, though it’s gotten a bit shorter, and she’s got her ears double pierced on both sides plus a bar on the left side. She also has a nose piercing. She did have to change her style a little bit for the apocalypse. Originally she was in a tight dress with combat boots and fishnets, but after stopping at her apartment for supplies she changed into jeans and a t-shirt that she stole from Robbie at some point. She also wears her pepper spray clipped onto her belt loop.

Thompson: Pretty much the epitome of a gentle giant, Thompson is still the only member of the gang that really nails the “upstanding citizen” look. He tends towards cargo shorts, polo shirts, and Vans. The downside of his look is that whenever he gets splattered in blood, the stains are super visible. Honestly, he kinda looks like a stereotypical horror movie frat boy, just nicer. Thompson is also super big though, he’s the tallest of the gang by a good two heads (three is you’re Tambry and Lee), and he’s pretty bulky too from spending the last few years weight lifting. He’s not quite bodybuilder ripped, but he’s still pretty strong. (Ngl I’m picturing a very similar build to that of Hunk from the new Voltron)

Nate: So, fun fact. When I first started writing thing, I got Nate and Lee confused. And while I did try to switch them back in my head, I couldn’t do it, and honestly? Nate looks like a Lee and Lee looks like a Nate. So I’m pulling a swap a la Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and ya’ll can’t stop me, and hopefully none of you care. So my Nate is the lanky blond guy who looks like he belongs in a band that operates out of a basement. His hair is still pretty long, and his image isn’t being helped by hours in a car with no comb. He wears Metallica tees and ripped up jeans, and the kind of converse that are so ratty that your mother is constantly telling you to throw them out, and that was before they got exposed to a zombie apocalypse.

Lee: So there is an aesthetic for Lee, but fuck if I remember what it’s called, so bear with me, because while you probably know the look I’m talking about, it’s hard to describe. Nate is that short, skinny boy with rubber band bracelets and a snapback. He wear skinny jeans and v necks (blue, in Lee’s case), and plain black Vans. He listens to a lot of EDM and knows all the Top 40 hits, and he can absolutely dance to all of them. He keeps his hair short, and on days when he doesn’t have the snapback he’ll gel it. He looks like a douchebag. That’s what this look is called, I just remembered.

Mabel: Mabel has grown up a bit since she was a kid, but her style hasn’t changed much. She still wears cute sweaters with hand sewn pictures, though they tend to fit better now (yarn is fucking expensive and oversized sweaters are unrealistic on a college budget). She also still wears her hair long, though she started braiding it for the apocalypse. Under the sweater is a plain t-shirt, and on bottom she’s got a short skirt with colored leggings that go down to about mid calf, plus some diy bedazzled converse. Everything is colorful, but nothing clashes. I’m thinking teal, orange, and pink, but let’s be real she totally packed multiple outfits so feel free to experiment.

Pacifica: Purple is still her signature color, even if it does get a little bloodier. She’s got a light, tan leather jacket over a purple v-neck and white capris, plus white sneakers. Now, nothing white will stay white (damn apocalypse), but Paz has more important things on her mind than fashion...mostly. Her makeup is still beyond reproach, and her eyeliner is so on point she could stab a zombie with it. She still has long hair, but she wears it in a tinkerbell bun for practicality. She also has bangs, so that’s a pretty cute look too.

Candy: Candy’s hair is bobbed, and her glasses are black with those cute wings on the edge of the lenses. She’s one of the few people who decided to dress appropriately for an apocalypse too, so her outfit is more function than fashion. Cargo pants, loose T, and a bomber jacket. And I’m talking about a real bomber jacket, not one of those fashion ones from Hot Topic (love them, but not great for movement). If anyone watches Z Nation, Candy is pretty much trying to emulate Warren, because that woman is a badass.

Grenda: Grenda has grown up as a bit of a gym rat. She was studying to be a personal trainer, and the girl is fucking ripped these days. She also wears a lot of athletic wear, so her apocalypse wear consists of running leggings and rainbow Nikes, plus graphic tees. Her hair has gotten a bit longer since her childhood, but for the purposes of the apocalypse she keeps it in a ponytail.

Dipper: Dipper is a scrawny little nerd, and while he’s not completely helpless, his biggest strength is endurance running from years of being chased by bullies in school. He also has a tendency to border on hipster with his fashion choices. Open flannel, graphic tee, jeans, and converse tendencies. Dipper also has a blue hoodie, and his old pine tree ballcap, just for old times sake. His hair is curly and kind of a mess though.

Bill: Bill’s idea of practical comes from a childhood of being dragged on hunting trips, and his outfits now reflect that. Red and black flannel, jeans, and hiking boots. He tends to wear his crossbow over one shoulder, with a quiver on the other. As for what he looks like...this is hard, because I know that everyone and their dog has a head canon for this. But important things, he’s human, he’s got two eyes, and he’s attractive. And he’s got a good jaw, because Dipper may punch him at some point (just for being annoying, probably), and if he did that would hurt. But as for everything else? I picture a white guy light brown eyes and dirty blond hair, but you guys shouldn’t limit yourselves to that! Bill is cool because he has no standard, so play around with him a bit if you want to.

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iamapoopmuffin · 7 years ago

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Nanbaka OC Week - Day 1

So, as I already have quite a few OCs for this I decided to cut it down a little bit and not talk about all of them, but talk about at least one from each section (as I put my OCs for this into three groups when making character files for them - Inmates, Guards and Things I Ship With Canon Characters (Or Civilians))

So, an introduction to three of my dumb OCs!

Inmate - #28, Otto Otto is a cheerful and flirtatious person who enjoys teasing those around him. For the most part, he seems to be calm, friendly and fairly sociable, but sometimes says some rather suspect and messed up things, usually without breaking out of his cheerful visage. When not teasing those around him, Otto tends to spend his free time on quiet and rather solitary passtimes, but he does enjoy board games, so if anyone’s up for Monopoly...

Otto is from Italy, and his nickname is the Italian word for the number 8. It is known he has a sister back in Italy somewhere, and he considers the two of them to be close. He’s hoping to see her soon, but she didn’t come to visit him in his previous prison. Still, that doesn’t mean she won’t ever visit him, right? She has a full time job and is probably just very busy, certainly too busy to travel to a remote Island somewhere off the coast of mainland Japan...right?

He is 21 years old, and was originally arrested for murder. He claims to not regret his actions in the slightest. He does, however, accept that he belongs in prison. He did try to escape before, because his sister’s birthday was coming up and he had to get her a gift, but frankly, now he’s at Nanba, he feels right at home in his cell. Moreso than he did back in Italy with those people he killed, certainly. At the moment, he is incarcerated in Building 4, however this was randomised, so there is a possibility it will change.

Appearance wise, Otto is a white male, 5′11, with a slim build. He has lilac hair with seafoam green tips. Honestly, the hair style still needs work, but currently, aside from the left side of the fringe, his hair is short and flicks out in some direction or another. Overall, it may look a bit messy. The left side fringe falls more naturally, but is separated into three sections. Otto wears full framed glasses with green frames, but otherwise his outfit is undecided. His eyes are blue. Unfortunately, I have not yet designed any tattoos or make-up for him, so his design is still in progress, but both of his ears are pierced.

It takes a lot to piss him off, but when he snaps, he snaps.

His cell mates still have nightmares about the Monopoly tantrum.

I have drawn a picture of him before, but it was when I was first figuring out his design so it’s no longer accurate...plus a lot of the colours are too dark. Like, the only purple I had available to me was the same shade as Honey’s hair.

Inyoka Atherisi - a guard, building currently undecided.

Inyoka doesn’t really like to open himself up to others. He’s quiet, professional and rather strict. He is not easily angered, but he is easily embarrassed and a little too easily confused, which is more likely to make him raise his voice than anything else. When things happen that he doesn’t like, he’s more likely to ignore it than deal with it, which tends to lead to a build up of bad stuff, though he’s certainly better at dealing with misbehaving inmates than he is his own personal problems.

Inyoka has spent most of his life in Central Africa, but was born in Indonesia. At 24 years old, he is the eldest of two sons. Following his parents’ divorce, his mother and younger brother stayed in Indonesia while he and his father moved back to his father’s home town. At first, Inyoka hated being separated from his brother so completely. Eventually, he stopped caring. His younger brother is currently incarcerated at Nanba prison, and aside from that being one interesting touch of fate, Inyoka tends to ignore that and tries to avoid the tearful, heartfelt reunion his brother wants. Incidentally, Inyoka believes in fate, destiny and similar life forces far out of his control, but the fact his younger brother is in prison for god only knows what act of stupidity is just what Inyoka likes to call ‘bullshit that is going to ruin my life and reputation’. I am currently undecided as to whether his brother, Rora, is in the same building he works in or a separate one.

Inyoka’s appearance sets him as a 5′10, muscular/athletic male with light tan skin. He has long, pink hair with purple flecks and highlights, a yellow-tipped fringe and the underside of his hair is also yellow. His hair is often tied in a ponytail, with the tie near the bottom of his hair, and slightly messy in a way that gives a scale-like effect. He has green eyes and a slightly snakey quality to his appearance. This includes a forked tongue, especially evident when shouting. The Ourobouros symbol - a snake eating its own tail - is present somewhere in his uniform, but I’ve only decided that today (previously it was a tattoo on his right upper arm, but I figured that would never be visible. He may still have the tattoo.) so I’m not totally sure where yet, but the belt is probably a good place, or the top of his boots, but otherwise his uniform is standard. His appearance is based off a red Atheris Squamigera, also known as a Bush Viper, Leaf Viper or Green Viper, a snake endemic to parts of western and central Africa.

Also, toying with make-up ideas, thin layer of eyeshadow, dull pink, with yellow dots under the eyes, again to match the body colours of the red AS.

He loves fizzy drinks and hates humid weather - it makes him feel gross and makes his hair go nasty.

His first name translates into ‘snake’.

He is my newest Nanbaka OC overall, but because he’s my only guard, I’ve given more focus to him than I have to some of my older OCs.

Most characters I ship with canon characters these days come from accidentally imagining what a character I don’t ship with anyone’s child might look like, and then accidentally imagining the other parent. These are what all my civilians (and female Nanbaka OCs) are formed of at the moment.

I’m choosing to showcase Ruth here, but on the shipping day I might talk a little bit about all my civilian girls. I’m not sure if Ruth or Meigui is the more thought out of my girls, but eh...

Ruth Handley has a personality I find kind of difficult to explain. She’s laid back, confident, and has a bit of a flippant attitude. She’s a bit lazy, and can often be found on days off just lounging on any comfy surface she can. She can seem like a bit of a grump at times and is easily frustrated, and can be a bit difficult to calm down, but she’s a quiet grump, even if her funk can last a while. It’s best to just leave her to defunk herself as well. Bothering her, even if you’re trying to calm her down, can make her outright angry, though she’s not super likely to raise her voice unless she’s worried about something.

Ruth is American, and currently is the oldest of the characters I’ve given an age to, but is only 30. I haven’t decided what she does for a living yet, but she’s definitely a working woman and most likely someone who hates having to rely on others.

In terms of appearance, Ruth has tan skin, red hair, blue eyes, slim build, and I don’t have a specific height for her yet, but she has to be quite tall. She’s definitely the tallest of her friends in the States. Her hair is layered, kind of like Ruka’s - short over layer, long under layer - but obviously the style isn’t the same and it’s not separated into sections. The upper layer is longer and flatter, and the under layer is completely behind her shoulders...if I’m not explaining this well, you’ll have to forgive me, it’s really late as I’m writing this character’s stuff out, sorry, and now I’ve started to describe it in terms of Ruka’s hair I don’t know how to stop :/ *Clears throat* anyway, additionally, Ruth normally wears fairly obvious make-up, but I need to consult someone who knows something about make-up on colours. White or yellow or pink eyeshadow?

Ruth smokes. And likes ‘cuddly’ clothes, you know, the snuggly comfy stuff. Perfect for lounging around in. Fuzzy hoodies. Her favourite place to just lie down and do nothing is her sofa. With the curtains drawn and a bag of assorted snacks. And hot chocolate with marshmallows.

#nanbaka oc week #nanbakaocweek #I am so tired and sorry #the Ruth section didn't go too well agh #I have not done her justice and she's my own damn OC #then again I must admit #I could 100% stand to do a lot more character development for all my Nanbaka OCs

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acciomatthewdavelewis · 7 years ago

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Matthew Lewis Discuss ITV ‘Girlfriends’ in Entertainment Weekly Interview

ITV drama Girlfriends written by Kay Mellor is now available for streaming in the US and Canada on Acorn.tv. Matthew Lewis talks with Entertainment Weekly to discuss what made him interested in the show, working with two Harry Potter actresses (Miranda Richardson and Zoë Wanamaker) and his concern about being known only for his looks.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: How did you get involved with Girlfriends, and what interested you about the role of Tom?

MATTHEW LEWIS: I’ve worked with the writer, Kay Mellor, twice before. I’ve known Kay for probably nearly 20 years now. She actually gave me the first role that I ever had, when I was 5 years old. She sends me scripts for different things, and she sent me the scripts for this and she said she wanted me to play Tom. I devoured the scripts in no time, read all six, and immediately gave her a call and just chatted to her about her vision for it. Even before I called her, I realized I wanted to do it. But once on the phone, you realize very quickly just how much passion she has for this. She’s always been a champion of stories about normal working-class people, but this one really came from Kay’s heart. There was so much of herself in these characters and her friends in these characters and in these stories. Once she explained to me her idea for it, her vision for it — not just for my character, but for the whole story — I couldn’t say no, really.

This is a bit of a departure for you — a single dad who has a police record and is on house arrest. What’s it like delving into a character like that who is maybe a bit edgier than some of the other roles you’ve taken on, and is that something you purposely seek out?

When I first finished Harry Potter, it was probably a conscious decision that I wanted to take roles that were very, very different. Less so now. I feel that I was very fortunate after Harry Potter that the roles that came up did offer me the opportunity to play drastically different roles, whether it was in Happy Valley or Ripper Street or Me Before You or whatever. The roles that came up were so eclectic and different from Neville that I felt I’d done what I set out to do — to show a different side of my acting and what I could do, really. The range was larger than Neville, as it were. Now, seven years later, I felt like I achieved that. I achieved what I wanted to achieve personally, that I don’t sit and think, “Oh, I must do a guy who’s been in prison.” I think out of my last six roles, three have them have got a record, so I’ve ticked that box now. I’m just drawn to stories that people can relate to, stories that people can find a piece of themselves in and that they’re inspired to or relate to or just enjoy. Luckily, that’s what keeps coming up. I wouldn’t shy away from anything nowadays. I wouldn’t deliberately turn down a role because it’s too similar to this or what not. Physically I’ve changed a lot since I was in Harry Potter, which probably is one of the main reasons I’m not still approached with those kinds of roles anymore.

Going off of your mentioning that physical change — in the very first episode, we see you shirtless, and that’s received a lot of play in the trailers. Obviously much has been made of your appearance and this slang term of “Longbottoming.” Was shooting that something that gave you pause, like, “Oh no, I’ll be feeding into that?” Or what did you think?

Yeah, it’s a tricky one really because it’s all about context, that kind of thing, and in this series, the joke was that he’s applying fake tan. That had to be very visible, that he was applying fake tan and he wasn’t very good at it and he didn’t know what he was doing. Frankly, in that scene, the character’s almost pathetic. He’s covered in this lotion and he looks ridiculous, and it was more about trying to look silly than anything else. But obviously you have that concern when that becomes a talking point — like, “Oh, you’ve changed from when you were younger and you look like this,” and all this. As much as I have changed and I would like to be able to showcase a change in terms of my range, I don’t want to get bogged down in it either. I don’t want to be known as the guy who changed into someone who looks better or whatever. It is — I don’t want to say a concern — but it certainly is something I think about when I take roles. When opportunities come up sometimes and you read in the first sentence of the character description “has great abs,” I’m like, I’m not so sure I want to do that. Not least because I don’t have great abs, but because you don’t want to get known for one thing.

The show reunites you with Zoë Wanamaker as your mother, whom keen Harry Potter fans will recognize as flying instructor Madam Hooch in the first film, when Neville breaks his wrist. What was it like reuniting with her and working with her as an adult actor and playing her son?

It’s wonderful, actually. I was a very shy boy, a very nervous kind of boy, a bit like Neville actually. I don’t think I really spoke to many people on the set that weren’t my age, whether that was crew, directors, DPs, or the adult actors around us, who were all wonderful and very approachable, but I was just such a nervous kid that I didn’t really form strong relationships and bonds with them. It was only that I got older and matured and grew in confidence in myself that suddenly I started to have these relationships. I look back on Potter and I think, “Oh God, I wish I spent more time talking to Gary Oldman. I wish I spent more time talking to Richard Harris or whatever.” Lucky for me, I’ve been able to continue my career and have had the opportunity to work with people from Harry Potter again on different projects and have those relationships. It’s brilliant. Robbie Coltrane, who I don’t think I hardly said anything to during filming, I now text him

To come on to set and have Miranda Richardson and Zoë Wanamaker — Zoë playing my mother, and to be able to have this relationship. I was always terrified that none of these people would even remember who I was, that they’d be like, “Oh you were Neville — who is that? I don’t know who you were.” They’re all just so charming and so full of humility. And Zoë straightaway was like, “I’ve been so looking forward to it. I was so thrilled when Kay told me you were taking this role.” It was just so nice to be able to speak to her and not feel like this terrified little boy, and to be able to just be an actor on set with her and to talk about the old times, but just enjoy the now.

It’s still really rare to see storylines that circle around older women; was that something that attracted you to the project and something you’d like to see more of personally?

Absolutely. On that phone call I had with Kay, you could see how much it meant to her from that perspective, and what I meant when I said there’s a lot of her in this script. What Kay said was there’s just not a lot on television for women of that age, for women full stop. Obviously there’s a lot more women playing lead roles on our TV screens than ever before, but in truth, it’s still not an equal playing field. So to have three strong women in these lead roles and then to have them of a certain age is just, it’s wonderful, it’s brilliant. There is a huge group of people who are marginalized and don’t often get heroes they can relate to on TV. This is filling a void there and also being performed by three fantastic actresses, who I’ve grown up watching on television and film. When Kay described it to me and I heard her passion for it, it felt like a wonderful opportunity to be involved in. Kay said at the read-through before we all sat down to read the first script, “So often throughout my career, I’ve watched television and I’ve seen men being propped up and supported by women who are playing the wife of, the mother of, the daughter of, the secretary of, etc., and finally I’ve written something where it’s the men that are supporting these women. It’s the women who are leading and the men who are being the husbands of, the sons of, the secretaries of.” When she said that, I just thought that was something brilliant.

For those who might still be on the fence about watching, what’s your quick pitch for them to tune in?

In terms of pedigree, you won’t find much better than Kay Mellor. I don’t think she’s ever had a poor script in her, to be honest. Everything she’s written has been very, very well received critically and by the general public. In this particular series, we’ve got what may on the face of it feel quite niche, [but] it’s very accessible to everyone. These are real people — every single one of these characters, not just the three women, every one of these characters are quite a bit relatable. They’re people you know; they are you. It’s a piece of England that, maybe in America, people aren’t really aware of. It’s not London, it’s the north. It’s kind of grittier, it’s more real, it’s more human. The issues that these people face are universal, and there may be some dark moments, some real heart-racing drama, but that just makes the humor, of which there is plenty, so much more heightened and laugh-out-loud funny. There’s something for everyone.

The fifth episode of Girlfriends premieres on ITV at 9pm this Wednesday, 31st January 2018.

#itv girlfriends #matthew lewis #zoe wanamaker #miranda richardson #kay mellor #interview 2018 #finally another interview thank you

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nyquiloid · 4 years ago

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THE (IN)COMPLETE ACCURSED SAGA OF FRANK KNOWBODIE & FRIENDS LORE (2021) ft. childhoodfriends both beloved and [REDACTED] AKA my surface pen broke so now you have to listen to me talk about cursed creations from 10 years ago (sheesh)

I was at the tender age of 7 (probably), my elementary school class was lined up in the hallway for a bathroom break. A teacher asked who was still left in the bathroom, and many children responded “Nobody”. There, at that moment, a (less than) brilliant idea formed in my head, I would create a personification of Nobody. I was already familiar with imaginary friends, so this was not new for me. A friend caught on and the name Frank Nobody was coined, then later it was altered to Frank Knowbodie. At the time it was an innocent creation, a mere childhood skit, it had no idea what I had started, but it was too late, the fire was ignited and there was no turning back.

The first year or so of Frank’s creation were slow, an imaginary friend to laugh and joke about occasionally, but as I grew older, the layers would pile.

SECTION A: A Homeland and its inhabitants

Frank’s story begins in a territory called “No Mexico” in a city called “Knowwhere”. No Mexico is located between the border of New Mexico and Arizona, and is only visible to the citizens and certain people who just happen to be allowed to see it (and subsequently all of its citizens and creatures). As No Mexico is not widely visible, neither are its citizens and creatures, again only certain people are born with the ability to see them.

Frank and his family were all born and raised in No Mexico, on a Ranch/Farm. They were one of the largest producers of Moosicorn Milk. I Don't want to have to explain what moosicorns are. Theres really not much else there, they lived on a Moosicorn ranch.

When Frank was around 9 years old (presumably) his parents moved to our city in Florida. The reason why was never explicitly stated or explained, and to this day I still don't know ( and IM the motherfucker that created this).

SECTION B: Frank’s Personality & Physical Traits

Frank was a dweeby kid who was prone to getting violently bullied by both my friends and I AND the other kids in my class no shit.

Frank was slightly shy, but one you got to know him he was energetic and in some people’s words “annoying”, but it didn’t stop him from his hobbies/interests. He liked climbing trees, and he liked animals. He would frequently get injured via both of these things.

He was a tall and lanky kid, (canonically he’s a few years older than us), he had a farmer’s tan and dark brown hair ( in my mind he was always Mexican, but my [REDACTED] Co-contributor at the time imagined him as white, but IM the one who created him so I get to say what he is and he’s CANONICALLY MEXICAN)

His favorite color was a sort of faded periwinkle blue. He also had a liking to rainbow/holographic colored things because that was the color of moosicorn milk, and it reminded him of home.

SECTION C: His Family

Frank had four sisters and one (or two?) brother (allegedly? I don't remember most of them)

He had an older sister (name forgotten/unknown) She was married with a daughter (names unknown) aka Frank’s niece.

His other older sister was named Carrie (I think??) At the time of creation she was attending a local Highschool.

His third older sister (name also forgotten) Who was four (?) years older than us, and attended our PK-8 school.

His fourth sister was a year younger than us and three years younger than frank. (I think her name was Molly or Maria, but I might be wrong) she was the most prominent sibling. She was more charismatic than Frank, and was allegedly popular in her grade, she was almost the polar opposite of Frank. She had a cat named Luna.

He had a baby brother who was named John. Not much there.

I think there was mentions of an older brother in between Carrie and the oldest, but most likely only mentioned once.

His parents were named Bob and Melinda (?) and they were, (allegedly) very rich via less-than-legal activity. Maybe this is why they moved to Florida?

SECTION D: His Pets

Frank Knowbodie had a beloved childhood pet “dog” named Porky.

Porky was a rather chubby looking thing brown with black spots, and had a fucked up face, making him look like a strange pig.

Frank would bring Porky to school, which he could do only because the teachers couldn’t see him or his dog. One day, Porky got through a fence at school and was flattened by a car, RIP. Fortunately, before Porky’s death, a neighbor of the Knowbodie’s had an equally pig like dog, which had puppies with Porky. this family allowed Frank to claim one of the pup’s which he named Piggy.

Frank’s family also had several cats that they took in. Most belonged to Molly(?). The names were Stella, Luna, Orion, Starry, and Sunny. As you can see there was a theme.

There was also the fact that the Knowbodies brought some of their prize moosicorn’s with them, though I'm not sure if you could call that a pet?

SECTION E: CULTURAL IMPACT 1 “Just beginning”

When Frank was 12 and we were 10, he was growing in popularity. He was a strange inconceivable entity to most, a concept at best. To my friends and I, he was very real.

We would do our best to convince everyone that he was really there standing next to us. Eventually a surprising large amount of classmates caught on, albeit to bully/tease the ever-loving hell out of him, but at least they acknowledged him. This grew to the point that our beloved 5th grade teacher let us put a nametag for Frank on an empty desk in the back. Things were just beginning.

SECTION F: Sara

Originally I was going to save this section for an entirely different post but hey while we’re at it.

Sara’s lore reached even further than Frank’s. I would typically say Sara originated when I was 6 years old, but the reality is even further back.

At the age of 4, an illiterate child, I used to draw little “comics” about a spy named Sara and her partner Flower. So at the age of 6, Sara, ex-child spy, became my imaginary friend. Sara was eccentric and hyper. She enjoyed sewing as many pockets on to her clothes as possible. When she got older, she dyed her hair so much, people didn’t know what the original color was (it was dark brown).

Eventually I “brought her back” when Frank began to pick up steam. Sara was mad jealous of Frank, because he was stealing my attention as a friend. She would lash out to him at first, but over time, she began to like him. She eventually apologized for her previous actions and became one of his closest friends.

Frank allegedly had a little bit of a crush on Sara, but it would be revealed later that Sara was not even into boys.

So there, Sara No-name, ex-child spy lesbian who enjoyed sewing and committing crimes. To be honest I don't have much of an emotional connection to Sara as I do with Frank, even if she existed long before.

(I am also going to mention another “imaginary” character named Crystal, she was the imaginary friend of one of my longtime best friends. I don't know her backstory and don’t really have the authority to mention much else besides the fact that she was another frequent character of our made up plot)

SECTION G: The comics “ a snippet”

This part will have an entirely different post dedicated to it, there are as many layers to the lore of the comics are there are to Frank’s story. I will try to be as brief as possible.

At the ages of 9 to11, I started to draw little mini comics on Index cards. They would be about little caricatures of my friends and I, and other little characters we made up. The line between these comic stories and reality often blurred when we were playing around. Frank was never explicitly depicted in the comics, but only because (by technical terms) he was unable to be perceived by most. Drawing him would give away a bit of the mystery and fun of it. Unfortunately any mention of him in the comics is lost to time, as most of the physical comic cards were destroyed or lost in the incident of 2018.

There were hundreds of these little cards, and he was included (by mention or crudely drawn shapes to allude to his form) in roughly 10 of them maybe?

SECTION H: CULTURAL IMPACT 2

I was 11-12, at the peak of Frank Knowbodie fame and impact, I was very active online. Forums, blogs, YouTube, you name it. It was time to make Frank Knowbodie an internet persona.

Tumblr account, a Roblox account, multiple emails, A twitter, a YouTube channel, A Google Plus (RIP) were all created and dedicated to Frank. Most of these are now defunct, save for maybe the Roblox and emails.

I remember I would post on these accounts playing as Frank. If you used to follow my original tumblr you might remember a few of my posts. I remember going on Omegle and trying to get people to follow the Frank Knowbodie accounts and understand the stories. Most of these attempts fell through unfortunately (or fortunately) and the content is lost to time.

Section I: The Disney World Incident

There were so many different little skits and situations we placed Frank & his companions in, I couldn't possible list them all, so I will mention one of the most prominent.

In 6th grade, [REDACTED] asked a beloved friend and I to Disney world for a birthday gift, which we agreed and happily went along, with Frank trailing along as usual.

Then... the incident. We were on splash mountain and forgot Frank on the ride. The thing was, he couldn’t ask to get out, as no one could see him. He was stuck on in infinite loop on the ride, for One Whole Year. He ate popcorn and snacks that others (that could see him) threw at him. That was the extent of it, and eventually he made his was off, and entered 7th grade with us.

Section J: 7th grade, and Carter “a snippet”

7th grade is seen as a turning point for me and all of my friends at the time. My personal friend group turned from a trio to a quintet (kind of) to a duo and sometimes a trio again. Middle school drama caused a lot of divides, both willing and unwillingly, some of my friends and I grew apart in the years following 6th grade. But not to get too ahead of myself.

[REDACTED] and I changed a great deal in the summer following 6th grade. I still lugged around my giant sketchbook with loads of comics and doodles when we returned in August. She on the other hand was... different, it was probably for the best, as her “true self” was revealed more and more. What does this have to do with Frank? Well she was the largest contributor to his story behind me, she started to reject our “childish” skits and games. It broke my heart a little, because I loved my stories, and I (we) were still 12, I didn’t want to grow up and stop making that kind of stuff.

I remember one conversation, when another classmate mentioned/asked Frank, and she seemed very embarrassed and judgmental, as she nervously laughed and quickly made an impromptu joking story along the lines of “Oh, haha yeah he got expelled!” or something. She brushed it off so she wouldn’t have to face her past embarrassments while giving me a sideways glace. She was too good for it then, there was no creative fire to her story, she had a tone of voice, and look on her face that reminded me of all of my older cousins who judged and cringed at me for acting like a kid.

So... Carter... Well in 7th grade, another beloved friend of mine had a faulty iPad. When she would tap or try to interact with it, it would let out a terrifying high-pitched shrill. So being an edgy little fuck, and also a 12 year old who loved storytelling, my friends and I called this phenomenon “Carter”. Carter was a tech-demon, who inhabited (mostly modern) technology and haunted people via the internet.

Originally Carter’s appearance was a grey-skinned demon, with red eyes and “glitchy” wings. A pretty basic appearance for any preteen OC design.

Later though, my older sister helped me tweak his design, he was primarily blue themed, no wings, but he had a tail with a more sci-fi ‘vibe’.

Carter’s backstory changed over the years, but the general consensus was that he died via some sort of technology/internet related incident in the late 90s-early 2000s . He was stuck between the human and demon world, cursed to roam eternity alone, and not visible to humans. He would go on to spook people through their devices for sport, until he traveled to my friend’s iPad, and met Frank& Friends. Frank & his family/friends are able to see him, because of some ancient deal between demons and the ancestors of the No Mexico citizens (It’s a stretch I KNOW, but all of this is pretty far fetched, and again, I was 12). Carter becomes close friends with Frank, and was very appreciative of him because he is the first person in years to show him kindness. At the time, I was a spiteful closeted kid, and I knew making Frank canonically have a crush on Carter would piss off [REDACTED], as I had suspicions that she was homophobic. (Spoiler, she was very subtlety homophobic in 8th grade and later in highschool it was kind of confirmed that she was)

At the time I was first dipping into what would later develop into my current drawing style, and I loved to draw Carter and Frank.

However, these drawings, and Carter’s creation, was a silent signal to the closing of Frank’s story, and my childhood as I knew it.

SECTION K: The End of An Era, and the Impact of One Beloved Childhood Character.

After 7th grade, my life got increasingly complicated. Friends moved on, I started to create new stories, my old comics collected dust under my bed, and Frank became a sweet memory of happier times.

I had to move on (reluctantly), and “face reality” according to most people around me. Years past, I started highschool, and forced myself to grow up, giving up my “childish tendencies”. I doodled Frank maybe twice since I was 12, but never really looked back until now. I think at first Frank was a joke of course, but as I developed his story, he was more of a projection of my complex 11 year old thoughts and feelings.

There was a time at 14 where I avoided mentioning him, I became what I hated, I was just like [REDACTED], I hated my younger self for acting like a kid and doing what made me happy. I threw away mass amounts of comics and trinkets I made, I was terrified of being seen as a awkward kid. I regret it now, I know know I was a young kid who was hurting so deeply from growing up, who was so scared of it. It was such a silly thing too, to hate myself for something so simple.

I owe so much to Frank in a way. Him and his story paved a way for me today, to make my current stories and characters, more complex of course, but I still owe it all. I don't deny myself anymore, he taught me over the years that I don’t have to hide my true self, from [REDACTED] or anyone else. As I enter senior year soon, I am so grateful for my past and the fun I has while it lasted. Its like that one stupid saying, although it’s a joke, there is a funny little truth to it. “Don’t kill the part of you that is cringe, kill the part of you that cringes.”

#rant #childhood #i honestly don't know what to call this #childhood friends #i guess #before anyone mentions it yes i am mlm and mexican lol #i'll add pictures later #my silly little stories #10 year old nyquil would be proud #childhood oc #hello irls #i missed a lot #childhood coping #middle school memories #nobody cares but me but idc

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