What is your dream?








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On Writing: Bodyguards

wordmage:

readingwithavengeance:

Has your character ever needed a bodyguard?  Yes?  Did you think that the job of a bodyguard was limited to walking next to someone while wearing sunglasses and having sexual tension/banter?  Well then, we need to talk.

  • Bodyguarding is a regulated profession.  Technically, you don’t need to go to a class to follow someone around and promise to beat up whoever hassles them.  On the other hand, if you do that, your paycheck can’t say “bodyguard” on it.  Every state has different requirements, but all of them include “take at least some sort of class and get a license.”  You have to take a class to be a security guard.  You have to take a different class to be a bodyguard.  You have take more classes to be an armed guard.  You have to take a separate, unique class for each type and caliber of weapon you want to be licensed for.  Now, like everything else, there are good and bad schools for this sort of thing, and with very little searching you can probably find a “school” that will take your money and give you a license at the end of the day, whether you paid attention to the class or not.  But the fact still remains that you can’t just turn to any random person and call them a bodyguard.

Read More

Fantastic quick read, especially relevant for some things I’m planning to write. (Turks, anyone? Or Imperial Intelligence, that too.) Brings out a lot of points that probably should have been obvious, certainly were when they were pointed out, and were great to have pointed out.

Reblogging it for the Turks out there.







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roleplayingconfessionsfromrpers:

In a survey of 100 roleplayers:

  • 35% were ages 18-21; 34% were ages 13-17.
  • 76% identified themselves as female.
  • 44% said that they roleplayed every day. 14% said that they roleplayed all day every day.
  • 51% roleplayed within a video game fandom. 42% roleplayed within an anime/manga fandom.
  • 38% of roleplayers surveyed said that they roleplayed as both canon and original characters.

Additionally;

  • A majority of roleplayers said that the quality of roleplay is most important to them, whereas follower count was found to be the least.

Very cool survey; I find it rather interesting - and shoutout to the +25 crowd, you make me happy!







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Thank you to all of the people I follow for cutting your threads, btw. This is a huge deal.


Thank you to all of the people I follow for cutting your threads, btw. This is a huge deal.







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Thrown Together

exsiliumductoris:

directorlazard:

Lazard woke to a pounding head, unpleasant chill, and throbbing body in the not-fun way. Groaning quietly, he pried his eyes open and winced at the sun overhead. Distantly at first, the sound of the ocean registered and he wracked his brain for what could have happened.

Blue eyes widened as memory came rushing back, and he sat up quickly - something he just as quickly regretted as his head swam a moment. Sand and salt made his skin feel stiff, and his hair was plastered down in a way that suggested injury of some sort; hopefully the slight enhancements years living by a reactor were helping with that, but better not to bank on it. He touched the bridge of his nose and frowned, glasses lost, of course. Gloves were intact, at least, stronger than the silk they appeared - a fine set that doubled as semi-decent fighting gloves, in a pinch. He wouldn’t take them to a fight if he had time to change, but they’d do.

A quick, careful pat to his thigh showed he had a knife, at least. Better than nothing. A glimmer of metal out of the corner of his eye had him turning, tentatively assured mood darkening a little. Veld.

The older man was collapsed, lines of pain he was normally loathe to show clear in his sleep. Or was he unconscious? Hard to tell…. “Veld?”

He had been having a nightmare; the whistling sounds of bombs in mid-air, people screaming, his house a pile of rubble and his wife…a charred, unrecognizable lump, gold wedding ring melted around what was left of a finger. He could feel the heat of the fires scorching him and the searing pain of his crushed and mangled arm, someone calling his name. Was it Felicia?

Veld!?

Veld?

"Veld?"

Gray eyes jerked open and he choked on sand, jerkily sitting up and rubbing his face before squinting around him; the scorching fires had just been the hot sun burning his neck and head and the voice….He peered up and blinked until the image became clear. Ah yes…Lazard.

"You’re….alive then." he rasped. He was glad but it hardly showed and his throat felt like sandpaper…he needed water. They both needed water, preferably water that didn’t contain salt.

"So it seems," he agreed, wetting his lips and tasting salt and sand. He didn’t sound as bad as Veld did, thankfully, but he felt rotten. Not so badly he couldn’t understand that they needed to move, get somewhere safer and regroup.

A slow glance around didn’t show the wreckage, so he was going on the assumption that their helicopter might have sunk. There was no telling quite how much time had passed, but it was still daylight. “I got the impression I have you to thank for that, so… thank you. Any idea what condition you’re in? Knock to my head aside, I imagine I can get moving to the treeline at least.”

They needed out of the sun, minimum. Water, too… or some hydration, fruit maybe. He thought he’d glimpsed some trees that might offer coconuts, which was better than nothing. “I have a blade, and some materia, but I’m not sure how much I trust myself with either.”

When he got back, he’d thank Genesis for insisting he have a bangle, even if it only had low level healing materia and a fire, they could make a difference for survival if he could get the strength and focus together to use them. That was the real question; he had a grab bag of fighting skills, but he was under no delusion of anywhere near qualifying as a mage or warrior of any sort.







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Sep
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trash-king:

meaniemikan:

trash-king:

when none of ur internet friends are online

timezoned again

clockblocked

FUCK







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Sep
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"Sir, can i take a few days off?"


honorofangealhewley:

directorlazard:

directorlazard:

Lazard arched a brow, glancing over his glasses at the First. “And is this something you’ll be putting in for, or something you need me to sign off on immediately and discretely?”

"I can’t say I’d generally suggest that particular resort for anything of a sensitive nature, but you’ve always proven to give sound judgement the last word," the director hummed, getting a form out. "Date of return? And have you made arrangements for your duties here to be covered?"

"Yes sir… Sephiroth was kind enough to take my work for me…. Told him there isn’t much to do… and i really don’t sir… i just feel like i’ll take a week off or something…"

Lazard nodded, giving the First a little smile. “Alright, if you can get the request filed I’ll fill it out as soon as possible. I hope everything is alright…?”

He didn’t want to pry, but he was always concerned for the welfare of his SOLDIERs.







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Sep
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apathetic-ruler:

 

Tagged by vicesovereignvermillionmayhem

So the purpose of this meme is to give a little info on your muses without having to rely on others to fill your ask with meme questions. I know how disappointing it can be to come back to an empty ask so I wanted to create a meme that anyone and everyone can do (mun and muse). The rules are simple, you do not need to be tagged to fill out the questions, but once you have you must reblog and tag 10 of your followers to spread the love (as well as add a question of your own to the bonus section). You can fill it out as many times as your heart desires (we all know muses can change with their character development.)

10 Questions:

image

1. What is your favorite word?

 “… I… don’t know. Possibly ‘pineapple’ just to say, but ‘dream’ as far as meaning.”

2. What is your least favorite word?

Bastard. Paperwork.”

3. What turns you on?

“Confidence. Also sass, inconveniently. And mako eyes.

4. What turns you off?

“Talking about business.”

5. What sound do you love?

"Piano."

6. What sound do you hate?

“My alarm clock.”

7. What is your favorite curse word?

“… does ‘fuckery’ count?”

8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?

"Something scholarly would have been nice."

9. What profession would you not like to do?

"President; gods, I can barely put up with executive.

10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?

“I decided to grant your wish; they’re waiting for you.”

Bonus Questions:

1. Something most people don’t know about you?

"I play piano."

2. If you were one of the seven sins which would you be?

“Pride.”

3. What are some notable merits and flaws?

"I’m loyal and a dedicated to my work - both to my credit and undoing, at times."

4. Sexual Preference?

"Exclusive or not at all. Barring one-night-only arrangements.

5. What position do you sleep in?

"Entirely dependent on where I’m sleeping, but most commonly my side, back to the wall."

6. Favorite sexual position?

"I don’t think that’s any of your business."

7. If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?

“I wish I’d been able to be a better support for my brother.”

8. What do you keep on your nightstand?

“My glasses, a box of tissues, a lamp and whatever I was most recently reading.”

9. Have you ever been in love?

“… yes. Reluctantly.

|| tagged muses ||: 

tagging my followers because I can’t choose, but particularly ones I haven’t interacted with







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askcarminelegacy:

brittapperry:

“I’m sorry” and “I apologize” basically mean the same thing

unless you’re at a funeral

image







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You’re born with a ton of fucks to give, so you spend them like a kid with a credit card. You give fucks about your friends, about your grades, about your fashion sense, about strangers’ opinions. You give way too many fucks about way too many things. You have so many. Then, as you get older, you have maybe 10 fucks per month, so you learn to budget them. You allocate fucks to family and career, but there aren’t enough fucks to give to the newest fads. Oh, someone at work has something they need my help with that’s outside my job title? I’ll do my best to allocate some fucks, but this month is pretty tight. Then, as you get even older, you’re down to 1-2 fucks per month, and those fucks are pretty damn precious. You give them to your family and your hobbies and your job, and that’s kinda it. It’s not your fault – fucks expire too quickly. I would’ve liked to save my fucks from when I was younger but I can’t. Then, you hit fuck insolvency. You’re getting like 1 fuck a year, and you have to make it last. So you go without, and even previously fuck-worthy things, you just can’t give a fuck. Some people run out really quickly, Some people have a fuck trust fund that pays out a decent amount even into old age. But at some point, the fuck faucet runs completely dry and you’re out of fucks to give. It’s just basic Fuckonomics.

-Unknown English Teacher (via swarthyvillain)

I’ve never read anything more fucking true in my whole fucking life. 

Fuck.

(via robinade)

Well if this isn’t fucking meta…I don’t know what is.

(via spookychan)

 






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askshivanulegacy:

Me:  …*stares at Blakk.*

*stares right back*
Both: *blush bright crimson.* Oh gods.

*considers*

That’s… not bad. Not bad at all.


askshivanulegacy:

Me:  …*stares at Blakk.*

*stares right back*

Both: *blush bright crimson.* Oh gods.

*considers*

That’s… not bad. Not bad at all.







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Sep
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wanting to interact with a certain character but having no idea how your characters would actually interact.

image



#ooc




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Sep
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"I’m Out for literally FIVE MINUTES! And you fuck everything up….. FIVE MINUTES!"

outofcontextdnd:

~ Our party leader after returning from a private conversation.

— the real reason Lazard doesn’t take sick days.







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Sep
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{{whispers} Veld and Lazard drunk on coconut alcohol on the deserted island.}


{{whispers back} This might need to be a thing.}







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✮ - sleeping habits ✉ - texting habits ✿ - laugh


✮ - sleeping habits

Lazard doesn’t sleep well, a difficulty that started in his teens and only got worse once he got into the work force. His mind refuses to shut down, and only alone in what he subconsciously deems a “safe” place or in the company of those he trusts does he manage to sleep uninterrupted for any extended time.

Perhaps that’s why his various Firsts can attest to nights on guard where the older man ends curled up in their line of sight, in little more than a pair of gray-blue sleep pants, soft with age, and a tiny smile on his lips.

✉ - texting habits

Lazard is one of the people who spells everything out and generally avoids using symbols. Abbreviations are only used when he would have used them anyway.

The only exception to this, of course, is in the event he’s rushed (grammar is of less importance than meeting time limits) or something is wrong (spelling tends to go first in events of illness, exhaustion, and rare drunken episodes.)

✿ - laugh

Lazard tends to keep to a low chuckle most times, or a quiet huff of amusement at work. It’s entirely possible to startle him into a full laugh, however, all the more so if he’s relaxed.







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Sep
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We are as pitbulls.
Bred to fight these battles,
And then called monsters.

(via the-write-ideas)

Into the den of monsters… SOLDIER doesn’t mean monster.