Valentine Brack

Roj Blake (someone help me make a better one!)

Dowie

Travis

Cont'd from here  

 "You always are, aren't you?" he asked, leaning back, holding Travis' hands as he began walking towards his room. Not enough booze, not enough cigarettes, but the most primal and most important part of him just wanted contact. human contact. "Right behind me. Like a puppy. A sweet puppy. Or a dutiful wee boy. Or a leather slave."

Cont'd from here

Val let go of Travis' hand, walking back to the hotel with a lit cigarette bewteen his lips. This was the first time he'd brought someone back to his bed in this new room; it made him a bit anxious, somehow. And Travis had expressed interest in staying inthe park, something Val had wanted for a long while now.

But he wanted someone to share a bed with. Someone who didn't smell like dog and snore enough to wake him up every hour (if he wasn't passed out). So to the room they went.

He unlocked the door.

"this is where I'm staying now."

cont'd from here

Val felt guilty. Guilty because, it was true - he'd wanted Dakin simply for pleasure. Because the boy was beautiful, and he'd admired Val so, and when Toorop liked him enough to take him to bed -

Well, Val had thought he'd scored the jackpot.

It had gotten far more complicated than he'd like to imagine. dakin was hurting. Dakin was hurting and he knew it was his fault.

Worse yet, Toorop was hurting, and that too was no accident. Val had screwed everyone over somehow. He should have never let that boy kiss him in his office.

He should never have brought him home that night.

Now Dakin was gone and Toorop had gone to bed, upset.

Val wasn't ready to see Toorop go to bed upset, not after the last time.

He closed the door behind Dakin and he sat on the bed, opposite Toorop.

"....Will he be alright?" he asked.

cont'd from here.

Val closed his eyes, his body and face stiff. no. He didn't want it to be gentle. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted it to hurt. If it was gentle, he'd think far too much, he'd think about the times with Toorop, when they went slow and easy and everything felt wonderful and good.

He couldn't risk thinking of that.

"No need," he hissed. "Just do it."

Val pulled back from Travis, just enough to look at him. His eyes were glinting and glassy, hungry but beyond that there was nothing. It was closed off. He tugged Travis.

"Bedroom."

contd from here

 Maggie had her babies. Six of them, all healthy. We haven't yet determined the sex of the pups.  Mammy's doing fine.

ooc: If you're friends with  Val or Maggie, you probably got this

Val was not a romantic. It was simple and it was true; he was not. The idea of Valentine's Day had always irritated, made unignorable by the fact that his name was in fact in the title of the wretched day. He didn't want any association with it.

He hadn't mentioned it to Toorop at all in hopes Toorop would simply not know or pretend not to know about it. Nevertheless, after going to grab some lube from the local sex shop he found himself exiting the store with somethiing more than just a bottle of wet stuff.

Figures the guy to sell him the stuff would be beautiful and charming and all that vomit-able stuff.

He came home, cigarette between his lips even though he'd been walking through the halls of the hotel, plastic bag in hand.

"Honey, I'm home."

"Then show me," he nearly purred, his hands going to the sides of Toorop's neck. Because he knew, despite being a writer, despite being snobbish and fancy wit his words, that sometimes words weren't enough.

Val watched Toorop before him, pulling off his shirt, undoing his pants, and he felt warm inside. Perhaps years passing in this place meant nothing. Perhaps time outside was stopped and they were in Limbo and time here was nothing, nonexistant in the real world. But he was living here, among the dead and the broken souls, and here, he had found Toorop.

He pulled his own shirt down over his shoulders, revealing several cigarette burns that could otherwise be hidden and would likely only be seen by Toorop (though the rest he got pitiful looks over).

"Welcome to next year, big man," he said with an amused smile.

 

The magpie's speech is symbolic of communication and creative expression. When we hear the magpie speak it is a message to us that we might need to listen to what is being spoken to us - listen with more attention. The chatter of the magpie is also a symbolic message that we may need to speak our minds more clearly....speak up, express our opinions, be creative with our spoken words.

The magpie's obsession with shiny things is symbolic of our tendency to chase after false ideas or perceptions. When the magpie comes into our lives it is often a reminder that we may have to re-evaluate our priorities. Are we chasing after unsuitable desires? Are we serving a false ideal? Are we putting materialism ahead of matters of the soul?

Her plumage is also symbolic. With striking colouration, the magpie is symbolic of flamboyance, expression, and glamour. When we see her, we do a double-take because her appearance commands our attention. This is a message for us to not hide ourselves away from the world. The magpie beckons us to reveal our brilliance (physical and otherwise) to the world. We are each composed of incredible beauty and grace - the magpie is a reminder that we must express these attributes outwardly in a glamorous display just as she does.

And just when we get to know the symbolic meaning of the magpie, she eludes us and leaves us guessing what she's all about. In nature she has been known to be shy and reclusive - yet in cities she is noted to be extremely sociable with humans. Typically, she is a scavenger...but she has also been witnessed taking down small birds and rodents - acting as a bird of prey (which is not her classification).

These and other oddities in her behavior are symbolic of illusion and perception. The magpie's message her is that not all things are what they appear to be, and we should not set our judgements in stone. Further, this aspect of the magpie is a message that we do not have to be bound to perceptions. In other words, we may want to consider departing from our habitual behaviors and avoid being type-caste into a specific role.

In ancient European cultures the magpie is said to predict omens, and there is a type of divination based on the magpie according to an old riddle.

• One magpie indicates danger
• Two equals joy in union
• Three means good journey
• Four magpies means new beginning
• Five equals company coming
• Six indicates an ending
• Seven magpies is a good omen, carry on with your plans
• Eight magpies suggest a wait period, do not continue with your plans
• Nine magpies speak of love will coming to call on you, or a return of love to your life

Those days without him were painful, and now, being able to touch him again, to feel Toorop's large warm body against him and wanting him...

Val ran his hands down the large muscle of Toorop's chest, to his belly and then his sides.

He didn't know why Toorop wanted him to stick around. A part of him wanted to ask, but he'd said enough stupid things lately and he held his tongue.

Toorop was backing him to the bed, keeping him close and deepening the kiss. There hadn't ever been any uncertainty in the way Val touched him, and he found his truth in that, even when Val couldn't say any of it out loud.

( continued )

ooc: because LJ is a bitch and email was necessary.

Character Chart

PART I. PHYSICAL

Full name: Valentine Brack

Date of Birth/Age:  20 January 1954

Address: Knights Kilbrack, Kilbrack

Race/Ethnic Background/Nationality: Irish

Height: 6'0

Weight/Body Build: Thin, lanky

Hair: dark brown/black

Eyes: brown

Peculiar Physical Traits: Always a scowl on his face; its his default expression
Glasses/Contacts reading glasses
Smokes: often
Nervous Habits:  smokes, snorts laughter
Distinguishing Marks: Two horrible scars on his face, one on each cheek


Health: ok

Smell: cigarettes

Voice:

Usual Walking Style: as if stalking, hunched enough to avoid contact with others. Likes to lounge/languid like a cat

Mannerisms: sort of lazy in mannerism

What type of clothes/shoes/accessories does he/she wear? Cheap suit, often unbuttoned at the top and never a tie

Any peculiar tastes in clothes/shoes/accessories? no

Eating habits/mannerisms/tastes: plain Irish meal - prefers lamb

PART II. GENERAL

Occupation/Social Class: Upper class, sort of. Except Kilbrack is falling apart and he's been disowned - so, lower class

Views on Money/Spending Habits: Material goods aren't too much of an interest to him except books and cigarettes

Education/Intelligence: Highly intelligent, but never went to university.

Marital Status: no

Birth Order: only son

Political Party/Views: not particularly political/was never involved in politics, somewhat socialist but doesnt trust others enough to have real belief in it

Religious Beliefs/Strength of Beliefs: Catholic; hardly.

Sexual Orientation/Values: gay

What is his/her usual disposition: Ornery, sarcastic


How does he/she feel about his/her appearance? unhappy with it; doesn't spend much time on it

Type of car: none

Most important possession: books

Hobbies/Recreations/Sports: reading, writing, sex.

Talents: writing

What is a normal day like for this character? get up, go to the park with dog, lays around reading or writing, gets some tea or coffee, more laying around reading or writing, then stalks the park at night for pickups/goes to bed and sleeps/spends night with a lover on occasion



Major Goals:  Writing something worthwhile


PART III. RELATIONSHIPS

Significant Other/Relationship: None (lover currently Toorop; varies)

Who does he/she live with? Cousin

Who does he/she spend the most time with? Maggie the dog

Father/Relationship with him/Occupation: Valentine Brack, Senior - disowned

Mother/Relationship with her/Occupation: Does not know

Siblings/Relationships: none

Children/Ages None

Best Friend none (carolyn, Livia, Toorop)

Other Important Friends

Feelings toward animals enjoys the company of dogs, doesnt like cats/small fuzzy animals though he's more like a cat than a dog)

How does he/she view his family? worthless

How does he/she view his friends? also worthless

How does he/she view his boss/co-workers/employees? his cousin - he will do what he wants

How does his family view him? dislikes

How does his friends view him? n/a

How does his boss/co-workers/employees view him? n/a

Who is his hero?

Other comments:

Val's wicked laugh was accompanied by a mischievious twist of his lips.

He flicked Toorop's belt undone and pulled it out. He pulled it taut between both hands and looked up at him, that twisted smile still there and a glint in his eyes.

choose 5-8 of these questions for answering.

O'Leary, it seems, was, for now at least, not O'Leary at all.

O'Leary had, somehow, disappeared within the past few minutes and in his place stood a man, tall and gangly, not nearly so awkward looking, though the unfortunate scars gave his face that distortion that was familiar to those who knew him. His brows furrowed over his dark eyes; he looked both hunted and defiant; he looked most definately not like O'Leary.

( Read more... )
T: Thanks to Melisande's crackplot...