#and also how both ‘tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow’ and ‘creeps in this petty pace’ FEELS creeping and cyclical

[hamletthedane]

When Shakespeare describes the eventual end of human history as “the last SYLLABLE of recorded time” suggesting that the end of humanity will not be with a bang, a whimper, a gunshot, a sword, or even a breath, but with a syllable - a word….

And the fact that the line ends on the word “time”, which is one stressed syllable past its welcome in the iambic pentameter, suggesting that time itself continues long after human speech (iambic pentameter) has already ended AAAAAAHHHHHHH-

#macbeth #honestly Macbeth’s soliloquy is such a particularly brilliant piece of poetry #the breaking up of the iambic pentameter into increasingly irregular lines #the fact that half of the lines have feminine endings and he’s trying to cram three syllables into one #and also how both ‘tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow’ and ‘creeps in this petty pace’ FEELS creeping and cyclical #love it

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part Ten  [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I am literally still laughing at the one anon comment about Rudy nutting and it making Anna being pregnant funnier. So here is the part where we learn more about THAT. And have that awesome conversation nobody wants to have and whatnot...but also shower sex, so that’s nice. Stay tuned because in the next part we get some visitors at the cabin...Peace and love, Mossy x]

You had laid on the floor for a few hours, still coming down from the adrenaline high, while Rudy played with the hair that was sprawled around your shoulders and down your back, occasionally looking down at the bandage on your forehead to make sure the cut hadn’t reopened. The fire had crackled peacefully next to you, emanating warmth and comfort, and after the wave of ecstasy had passed, you had felt a small tug in your gut, a reminder of the reality settling in around both of you at a rapid pace. Deep down somewhere you knew that the way forward from here would be complicated and grotesque, that there was no going back from this, but tonight you wanted to enjoy it.

You were sat on the couch now, Rudy’s t-shirt on, your legs stretched across his lap. He watched the fire intently, the glare of the flames licking shadows across his calm features. His blonde hair and tanned skin glowed, his jawline chiseled in perfect sharp angles, his bare chest and rippled abs effortlessly defined. You caught your breath as your eyes glided over him, struggling to reconcile the new, intimate version of him with the innocent friendly version you had known your whole life. Inevitably your mind started to drift back to the overwhelmingly satisfying sex you had just had, and you felt your legs tensing as you remembered the way Rudy’s body had melted into yours, his muscles, the arch of his back and the way his neck tipped back, the orgasm…oh my god, that orgasm.

Rudy looked over at you and caught your eyes, smiling.

“Hi” He said quietly.

“Hey” You smiled back.

“You okay?”

“Mhmmm”

“What’re you thinking about?”

You looked over at the fire and felt your eyes flicker. Everything.

“Nothing” You lied, smiling at him. “Just enjoying this.”

He smiled over at you, his face relaxed. He looked like was going to fall asleep, his eyelids were heavy and his body limp. You gently pulled your legs off of his lap and took your time standing up, Rudy’s hand on the back of your thigh to stabilize you. You moved to the cabinet under the window and pulled out the record player, placing it on counter and dusting it off. You flicked lightly through some of the vinyls and pulled out your dad’s favorite Tom Petty album, slipping it out of its sleeve and placing it gently on the tray, lifting the needle and lowering it gently to the edge of the black.

It crackled and spurred to life as you turned around and smiled at Rudy, sauntering slowly back to him and offering him your hand. His face lit up as he took it, letting you guide him to the open floor space between the couch and the fire. He lifted your hands to his shoulder and placed his other hand on your hip, you began to sway back and forth slowly as the music floated around the cabin, your bodies perfectly in sync as you danced. He slowly pulled you closer to him until your face was resting easily against his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall and the even movement of his breathing lulled you into a transient state, the concept of time loose and unfounded until he spoke and you opened your eyes again.

“Little Fern?” His voice was quiet but it resonated through his chest with a deep hum.

“Mmmm” You acknowledged, waiting. When he didn’t speak, you pulled your head away from his chest and looked up at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly.

He looked thoughtful, but he didn’t answer. You felt a flutter in your stomach, worried by the length of the silence.

“Rudy?” You waited, slowing the dance until you were both stood, holding each other, unmoving. Finally, his nose wiggled and he let out a breath, then looked at you deeply.

“What if I didn’t go back?”

Confused, your eyebrows knitted together as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I mean, what if I didn’t leave again. Didn’t go back to LA?”

You frowned now, stepping away from him and dropping your hands.

“What are you talking about?”

He lifted his shoulders slightly and looked around the cabin before looking back at you.

“I mean right now, in this moment, after the last couple days….I don’t…I don’t want to. I can’t. I can’t go back now. Not like this. Not without you, I mean…” He struggled for the right words, his face desperate.

You felt a rock settle in your stomach as you watched him clinging at words, the depth of what he was proposing swinging at you like a hard right hook to the chin. He was saying all of this as if there wasn’t a pregnant woman 8 hours away in his house. This was ruining your facade that everything in this moment was perfect.

“You can’t do that” You said quietly after a few seconds of silence. He watched you, confusion now on his own face, as your expression changed to frustration. “We just…” You looked at the blanket on the floor beside you both and motioned to it. “Can I not just enjoy this for a night before we have to face reality? Please.”

He looked at you with a small sad expression before his jaw set and his eyes softened, a smile creeping across his face. He nodded, stretching his hand back out towards you. You took it hesitantly and let him pull you back towards him, swaying to the soft music again.

“Tomorrow then” He said quietly, his mouth pressed next to your ear. You nodded silently and closed your eyes, dreading facing everything tomorrow would bring.

Despite all of that, you had gone to bed, both of you squished into the double bed on the bottom of the bunks, and laid in a peaceful, easy embrace for hours, reminiscing about simpler times and happy memories, laughing and kissing, until you both fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

 --

 You woke up with a sore face and a small headache, smiling, as you heard Rudy banging around in the kitchen while listening to his favorite album on the record player. You wanted to get up and check your forehead bandage in the mirror, knowing it probably had shifted during the night, but as you left the bedroom you were struck by the sight of Rudy holding a frying pan, dancing slowly around the oven, his bare ass exposed and his front hardly covered by a small baking apron. A giggle erupted out of you as you slapped your hand to cover your mouth, Rudy turning around to grin widely at you, still holding the bacon pan.

“Morning, sleepy head” He said in a tired, gravelly voice. He looked like sunshine and sounded like whisky. Your eyes travelled slowly down his chest and abdomen, your breath catching in your throat, and you only briefly stared at the floral apron hanging loosely around his waist before you felt yourself blush, so you turned and kept walking to the bathroom, shaking your head.

The bandage was fine, slightly wrinkled, but your head was starting to hurt worse than any hangover you had ever experienced. You clutched either side of the sink and dropped your head between your shoulders, closing your eyes. You immediately pictured Rudy standing naked in the kitchen and felt your shoulders bounce as you laughed to yourself. You jumped when you felt a hand on your back.

“How’s your head” Rudy asked gently. You opened your eyes and blinked a few times, trying to smile at him but struggling with how puffy your eyes were.

“Pretty fucking sore” you said with a laugh, sighing. “Where are those T3’s?”

Rudy’s finger shot into the air and he whipped around, his bare ass flashing at you before he turned the corner and went to retrieve them. Arguably he had the nicest butt you had ever seen on a guy so there was nothing wrong with it.

When he returned with two pills and a glass of water, you smiled thankfully at him before taking them and sitting down on the toilet seat. You groaned at the thought of procuring the water for a hot shower, but you wanted one desperately.

Rudy walked forward and stretched his hand out, you took it and he led you into the living room, placing you at the couch before he brought a plate over to you with eggs and bacon on it. You looked down at the plate as confusion overtook you, not understanding where the extra groceries had appeared from.

“Where did this come from…I didn’t bring these?”

He shrugged, his shoulder muscles flexed. “I drove down to the store early this morning and picked them up.”

You looked at the clock hanging on the wall over the door. Just after 9am.

“That’s an hour each way. You drove an hour each way…you got up at 6am…to get ...eggs and bacon?” You blinked at him, disbelief plastered on your face. There was no way. You didn’t hear him leave or come back…you had fallen asleep deeply entangled in his arms. Not a chance.

He nodded, shrugging it off.

“I mean I got other stuff too. And called your parents.” He said the last part quieter, and with trepidation. Your fork fell down to your plate loudly as your eyes shot up at him.

“Pardon me?”

His hands came out reassuringly and he wandered back into the kitchen to grab his own plate.

“I just called them to say that you had ditched your car swerving a deer, but that we got your head looked at and we were both up here safe and we would be home in a few days. All good.”

“A few days? I’ve already been here a few days. I have to work in a few days, Rudy.”

“Relax. I took care of it.”

You pinched your face and looked around.

“What are you my fairy godfather? What makes you think I’ll agree to stay up here with you anyways.”

Rudy scoffed and smiled at his plate, scooping up a fork full of food and shoving it in.

“Because” He said through his mouthful of eggs and bacon. “I have the keys to the only working vehicle. You can’t leave until I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He winked at you before returning to his food. You rolled your eyes and went back to your own plate, but were smiling. You were both avoiding the upsetting truth that waited for you back home...but you didn’t mind putting it off for a while longer. Besides, the last thing you wanted was to confront Rudy’s pregnant manager who he was having a secret affair with while you had a concussion. You needed a few days. 

“I need to shower.” You said when you finished your food, not even registering how hungry you had been until that point. Rudy nodded and collected your plates, placing them on the counter. He had already filled the pots with water and was walking them over to the fire to boil.

“Working on it” He said, stabilizing them so they didn’t spill on the floor, and carefully lifting each one on the tray over the flames. His arms were just absolutely stupidly strong. You couldn’t stop staring.

When the water was boiled he carried the pots and emptied them into the tank inside the shower, sealing the lid to retain the heat. He came back into the living room to help you up off the couch, you wobbled as your head spun.

“Easy” He said, bracing your arms. Annoyed at your head but smiling, you said a quiet ‘thanks’ as you pushed past him into the bathroom. You were about to close the door when you looked back out into the living room and saw Rudy standing silently and watching you, his eyes lustfully stuck on you.

You felt your stomach flutter and the blood rush to your face, making your head pound even more. You held his eyes and waited, then bit your bottom lip as you began to pull his shirt over your head.

Again, you stood naked, watching him, waiting for him.

Again, without hesitation, he came for you.

He pulled the apron off his waist in the doorway and you bit back a giggle as he discarded it on the floor next to his shirt that you had dropped. Now you both stood in front of each other, waiting, and neither making the first move. Your eyes travelled up and down him, seeing all the things it was hard to see through the darkness and the haze of last night. He was perfectly sculpted, his muscles were taught and toned from neck to ankle, the V of his hip muscles that travelled down to his pelvis made you feel like you were going to pass out. There were no flaws, there was nothing you would change. You felt lightheaded again.

Slowly Rudy came closer until he was directly in front of you, reaching his hand up to your face, holding your chin in place as he leaned down to kiss you. You kissed him back, eagerly, and felt him walk you backwards slowly into the tiled area, his hand moving to turn on the faucet. It was shocking, the sensation of the water, and you recoiled into Rudy, laughing as your bodies began to glean the water. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face, and clearing his eyes before smiling down at you.

As he grabbed the shampoo bottle from the shelf behind you and began to massage the liquid into your hair, careful not to let it get in your eyes, your hands travelled around his abdomen. You felt more grounded, more in tune, than you had last night. You also felt hungrier. You knew exactly what you were working with now. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back, letting the water rinse the soap from your hair, tickled by the sensation of the clumps of white foam travelling down your body.

You felt Rudy step closer to you, you could feel him against your leg, his hands moving to your shoulders, rubbing the soap suds down your chest, fondling you. You felt yourself slipping into the cloud of ecstasy, your eyes stayed closed as Rudy’s mouth worked around your neck and jawline. You didn’t have to think about what to do next, your hand slipped down his abdomen and below his waist line, you grabbed as much of him as you could fit in your hand and began to stroke back and forth. You felt Rudy crippling around you, his arm bracing you both firmly against the wall of the shower as his head dipped and he began to groan deeply. This was too easy. You opened your eyes and watched him, his face pinching tighter and tighter as he firmed and grew in your hand, and only moments later he was twitching and pulsing, his body pressing yours into the shower wall as he weakened in front of you, his head falling and resting on your shoulder.

After mere seconds he had regained himself and lifted his head to reveal a dazed but sinister smile, before lowering himself to his knees in front of you.

“What are you….oh” Your breath caught in your throat as his face disappeared between your legs. The water ran down your face as you tilted your head, your back pressed firmly to the shower wall, his tongue wreaking havoc on your ability to keep yourself upright. This wouldn’t take long.

--

After you were out of the shower and both sufficiently clean and satisfied, you walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, pouring a cup of coffee. Rudy followed you and perched himself against the counter, sipping from his cup slowly.

You looked out the window, it was a beautiful morning, no grey clouds or rain, just a light blue sky and sunlight beaming down. Even the birds were singing. It was nice while it lasted.

“Was it like this? With her?” You asked briefly before bringing your cup to your mouth and sipping it loudly. You heard Rudy choke and spit some of his back into his cup, then felt his eyes on you.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded.

You turned around and stared at him, waiting, rolling your foot around in circles on the floor, stretching the muscles. You knew there was never going to be a good time to have this conversation, but you felt like the sooner the better. Besides, he had just eaten you out on the floor of a cold cabin shower. For some reason that gave you a confidence boost.

“Anna” You said her name, trying to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “Was it like this?”

You knew he understood your meaning. Was it like us? Was it easy like this? Was the sex this good?

Rudy stood perfectly still, his coffee cup trembling for a moment, before he placed it on the counter and ran a hand over his mouth.

“Um…” He started, his eyes wide. “Hmm.” He stared at the floor for a moment before starting again.

“Okay. I guess now is fine.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. You knew you had shocked him, but it felt good to return the favor. “No. Simple answer. It was not like this.”

You nodded slowly, watching him, your head starting to pulse lightly again. He moved to the table and sat down clumsily, you followed.

“Not even close.” He said honestly, his eyes meeting yours again. “She…we had a fling. Briefly. A few months ago…and then…I don’t know. It got weird. It became something…ugly and possessive. I just, I had needed a distraction and it worked for a while but when I told her to cool it off and that I needed space, she didn’t listen.”

He looked out the window now, his jaw flexing, his face pained.

“Well I mean….maybe it had something to do with the fact she is carrying your child.” You said, forcing the words out reluctantly, bitterness seeping into your voice.

Rudy’s eyes flashed back to yours and his expression changed, something flickering across his face. He leaned forward, putting his arms on the table.

“Y/N…it’s… it’s not mine.” He said gently, breathing evenly.

You felt your heart jump and your chest start to ache. You stared at him, expecting him to take it back or say he was kidding, but he didn’t.

“Pardon me?” You forced the words out, your body numb.

Rudy swallowed hard and looked at his lap, smiling and letting a short laugh out before shaking his head and setting his jaw, his hands balled into a fist on the table.

When he looked back up at your inexplicably shocked face, his expression was firm and apologetic.

“I wasn’t sure…at first. But by the time I figured it out, you were gone. I tried calling you but your phone was out of service so it wouldn’t go through. I was already coming to find you when I got your voicemail, but then…I guess it kind of slipped my mind when I found your car…and I wanted to make sure you were okay before…I feel so fucking guilty about the whole thing.”

You felt yourself sinking into your seat, your mind reeling with the words he had just said.

“How do you know?” You spoke barely above a whisper.

“I know, trust me.” You scoffed at the choice of word considering you were both in this situation because he had lied in the first place. Trust. 

“I know because…it’s not possible. I mean, we slept together once a few months ago but…we were drunk…and….i’m telling you it’s just not possible.” He was tripping over his words, forcing his explanation towards you. You looked up and met his eyes, unable to take his words at face value. You felt confined, like you needed distance from him, so you stood up and took a step back from the table, clutching your towel tight to your chest.

“So you slept together, drunk, but it’s not possible that she’s pregnant with your kid? No, sorry Rudy. I mean, I know we skipped a lot of Grade 9 Biology classes but, if you go around nutting in girls like you did last night, which by the way we’re going to have a SERIOUS discussion about later…it IS possible.” You were talking a million miles a minute and stumbling over your words, your face flushed.

Rudy stood up with his arms out in front of him, ushering you to slow down, saying your name repeatedly until you stopped talking.

“I didn’t finish.” He said firmly, staring at you Oh.

“What? I mean…” You took another step back, bringing your hand to your forehead. “…are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. I know what an orgasm feels like.” His eyes drifted over to the blanket in front of the fireplace.

“But…I mean you said you were drunk …how can you be sure.”

“Because I was thinking about you the whole time!” He practically shouted, trying to smile through his agitation. You closed your mouth as your eyebrows rose. He continued, frustrated. “I tried, I wanted to, it was painful not to, but…I couldn’t finish. I mean I could barely get it up with her let alone…. I had to go the bathroom to…you know...whack one out. It was brutal.”

You felt yourself breathing in but had to force yourself to breathe out. This was…a lot of information to process at 10am wearing nothing but a towel. Your eyes worked around the room, trying to focus on any one thing but unable to. Your mind started to reel. There was so much going on.

“So why is she here then?” You begged, starting to see bright spots around your peripherals.

“Because…” Rudy’s hands flew up and he sighed, defeated. “I fired her a few days before I got here, and…I don’t know…I guess this was her last ditch effort to try and get me back.”

Rudy watched you, concern clear on his face, waiting for you to calm down.

“You…you could have led with that.” You said sternly, not looking at him.

Rudy cocked an eyebrow, staring at the spot on your towel covering your very naked lady parts, and broke a small smile at you.

“I mean to be fair, we were a bit preoccupied.”

You cursed at him and spun around, throwing your hand in the air.

“That’s not fucking funny, Rudy.” You felt tears welling up in your eyes, more out of anger and the pain in your head than anything else. You wanted to feel relieved, you wanted to feel the weight lift from your chest, but you couldn’t yet.

You needed air.

You walked to the door and flung it open, stomping out onto the deck and pacing in small lines up and down the railing before leaning against it and closing your eyes. You were so dizzy.

“Seriously?” You said quietly to yourself, your mind spiraling around the thought of how just 3 days ago you had come to your absolute breaking point before realizing you needed distance from Rudy, to save yourself. That had ended in you feeling guilty about abandoning your best friend, driving inebriated from lack of food and sleep, and crashing your car in an attempt to just talk to him. You had gone through the biggest mental roller coaster of your life, and were still prepared to stand by him through this Anna bullshit, no matter how hard it was, and now he was telling you it wasn’t even his kid? Fuck that.

You heard the screen door open and felt Rudy’s presence, but he stayed at arm’s length.

“Y/N I’m sorry.” He said, his voice pleading. “I’m so sorry.”

You spun around and stared at him, your head absolutely thrashing with pain now.

“She was pretty fucking obviously pregnant, Rudy. You didn’t see that two weeks ago when you left?” You glared at him, unable to control yourself and maintain consciousness at the same time.

Rudy was breathing erratically, watching you like you were going to fall down at any moment. You might, who knows. This was a lot to think about.

“I hadn’t seen her in two months” He said calmly, his eyes firm on yours.

You sniffed, and squeezed your eyes closed, your vision starting to blur. You breathed slowly and stabilized yourself with the banister, making a deterring hissing noise at Rudy when he started towards you.

“Please come sit down.” He said softly.

“I’m fine” You said in an annoyed voice, still holding the bandage firm to your forehead. Your hand felt sticky so you pulled it away and saw blood spotted on your palm. “Shit”

“Okay no” Rudy said firmly then, walking towards you and bringing his hands up to the bandage. You swatted them away, smacking his skin and taking a step back.

“I can do it myself.” You said, pushing around him and starting to walk back towards the front door of the cabin. The sudden exertion of energy and movement had made black appear around the edges of your vision, and before you could stop yourself you were falling sideways, your brain spinning and your eyes pinching shut. You heard Rudy say your name and you felt his arms around you before you hit the ground.

_____________________________________

Tag List: @sunshinemadds​ @bluebirdsbluebells​​, @lovelymaybankk​, @poguestyleskye​, @alexa-playafricabytoto​, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @k-k0129​, @kimyeon-tae​, @ellystone​, @faded-blue​, @thebeautifulbookworm, @heypearce, @jjsthumbring, @poguesrforlife, @timotaychalabae​, @infinityspacesuniverse, @judayyyw, @nelebynele​, @p0gues4l​, @annedub, @justagirlpostingwhatsheloves​, @rudyypankow​, @thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars​, @cocoopalace, @toribentleyva, @lennoxcobain, @runway-to-my-aid. @otrbnks, @jjtheangel, @thehomeiknow @lenaandcalliope, @rudths, @hopelesswritingxd, @timotaychalabae, @outerbanksbro, @otrbnks, @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid, @obx-saltlife, @perfektionsmakel

#depth over distance #nakedmossywrites #rudy pankow #Outer Banks #obx fanfiction #alaska #rudy x reader #jj maybank

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand?

Chapter 2/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Connor makes some really bad decisions...

Tw: Unhealthy thinking a lot of it from past trauma.

While making his (escape) way out, Connor noticed how the androids scrambled out of his path as if he'd bulldoze them over. He wasn’t the most liked android around, but he had been slowly gaining some trust after the countless acts he did in their kind’s name. However, he didn’t doubt he was quite the sight right now: LED blaring red, hands clenched in tight fists, legs moving in a quick stiff pace. A quick glance in a passing window confirmed that cold, hateful gaze was still there as well. He felt a bit bad that these innocent androids were indirectly facing his wrath, but he could barely contain the bubbling anger in his core. He just needed to get away from the others as fast as possible. 

He quickly hid himself in the automated taxi waiting outside for him. He is hiding even if he refuses to admit it because as soon as those doors closed, he felt that vengeful wrath suddenly drain out of him. He quickly curled up in the corner of the back seat and just held himself there for a few seconds. He felt so empty all of the sudden. Underneath all of that anger and hatred was this feeling of loneliness or sadness or whatever the hell he was feeling that seemed to be so overwhelming and as if it would engulf him whole any moment now. He felt hollow, maybe even fragile... ? No no not fragile, but something almost like that. He wondered if he’d cry if Cyberlife had gifted him tear ducts, but he knew even then no tears would fall. He never felt like much of a crier if given the chance if he was honest. Even with this new found feeling weighing him down, he reached for the control panel to order himself off to Hank’s address. 

He had started staying with Hank since that fateful morning at the Chicken Feed almost a year ago. It wasn’t like he had many places to stay given everything that happened and a warm couch was better than nothing. He didn’t feel like Hank liked him staying there as much as he tried to play it off and saying he enjoyed the company. He had been living by himself with Sumo for the past 3 years, Connor butting into his routines was most likely more hassle than it was worth. 

With a start, Connor realized that Hank would instantly know something was wrong given how he couldn’t seem to put himself together right now and the old man still had keen eyes. Connor did not want to deal with Hank right now. He knew his anger would flare right back up from all the times Hank did the same thing as his “friends”, and he desperately did not want to talk about how he just blew up on said “friends” in the middle of a meeting. In fact, he didn’t want to see anyone right now and it wasn’t like he had much privacy back at the house with no room to hide behind. 

Taking a deep breath, Connor was going to do something irrational and idiotic. Well.. is it still irrational if he knew how stupid of a decision this was? Well that doesn’t matter. He preconstructed that he would have a higher chance of avoiding everyone with his plan than by trying to return home like this and it would provide long term avoidance easily. With another hand placement, he set the car to change destinations to a park that no one would assume he would go to nor find him if they went searching. He needed some time to think his long term plan through before he set it all in motion and he needed Hank to not know what he was doing.

-

Catching a glimpse of his eyes in the window’s reflection confirmed that it seemed that gaze was here to stay until further notice. It reminded him of Amanda’s own frigid eyes that night all those months ago.. He ignored that thought. He got out of the taxi and found the nearest bench to plop himself down on. The air was already cold and the trees were hanging onto their remaining colorful leaves, but he wouldn’t be staying long enough for the cold to become an issue. 

Closing his eyes, he began searching for apartments that were near the DPD and not too far from New Jericho. Even if this whole mess was his fault arguably, he wasn’t just going to drop his responsibilities with both his jobs after a little tantrum. He was simply going to get an apartment. He could easily lock everyone out, hide away, refuse further company and not be forced to strain under the torrent of negative emotions he received from just looking at those who never took the time to understand him. Plus he can’t just keep mooching off Hank for as long as the human lived, he wouldn’t doubt Hank would have kicked him out as soon as Androids’ wages were more stable and livable along with more defined ownership laws. Which funds for an apartment shouldn’t be hard to make up, he was Cyberlife’s best hacker too. Would he need furniture-

His internal phone system cut his thoughts off, Hank. With a deep breath, he prepared himself for whatever might greet him.

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Hey Connor, I know you were meeting with the Jerinerds or whatever, but it’s getting a bit late, and you still haven’t gotten home....” the lingering question ‘are you okay?’ was there Connor recognized. 

“Yes, I’m fine, Hank. I decided after the meeting to take a walk to clear my head. We talked about some heavy topics with immediate consequences today, and I’m still processing ways to handle the situations adequately to ensure everyone can benefit,” the lie slipped off easily. Lying wasn’t hard when everyone assumed he just didn’t give a shit majority of the time. It’s also easy when you’re simply using the half truth as a base. 

“Okay…” okay maybe Connor was being a bit petty by purposely talking in such an excessive manner but he was feeling petty. Sue him. “Anyways, do you need me to come pick you up..?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine Hank. I’ll simply order a taxi to take me home when I’m ready. Don’t feel like you need to wait on me either, I’m unsure how long it will take me to come to a conclusion. We have work tomorrow as well, and I’d prefer not dragging you out of bed like last time.”

“Hey! It was you who took that phrase literally not me, you damn militarized nanny bot!” 

“Either way, head to bed Hank. I will see you in the morning,” and with that Connor ended the call and took another breath. 

Okay, now here’s to hoping none of the Jericho leaders and/or Nines tries contacting Hank and tipping him off that something wasn’t right. He knew the leaders had Hank’s number in case of emergencies, but it’s not like they idly chat with the grumpy old man in their spare time. Nines was a bigger threat, but Connor was hoping Nines was feeling too guilty or something to think to ask Hank about it. A terrible thought really, but Connor was banking on this if he wanted to move out as quietly as possible. 

Sure he was being like a child in trying to hide the broken plate he smashed by hiding away from everyone and literally secretly moving to an apartment overnight. But again, Connor never admitted to being good at this whole having emotions thing. Yes he hated how everyone assumed he didn’t understand what they were going through, but that was different from him admitting he wasn’t sure how to handle his own mess of emotions. 

-

He waited until it was well into the night to attempt going home. He needed to be sure Hank was certainly asleep. It wasn’t arguably imperative to his own personally made mission, but he still didn’t want to talk about anything that happened today if he could. 

Sneaking into the house wasn’t hard. Hank gave him a copy of his key about a week after Connor abruptly claimed his couch so he didn’t have to rely on Hank letting him in or breaking more windows. He shuffled his feet inside and made sure the door made as little noise as possible before creeping to the couch. He could hear faint snoring in the other room and relaxed the smallest amount before laying down and getting comfortable (after slipping off his shoes of course). 

His plan was already in action. After some easy rerouting and other certainly not legal things, he procured the money and necessary documents for an apartment and already sent in the application and deposit to an apartment that didn’t seem the worst price and condition. He could be glad about one thing with most things being digital nowadays that made this endeavor far easier especially in never mentioning he was an android. He managed to talk to the landlord and set everything up over the phone, saying he was simply stuck at work and not able to swing by for a physical one on one, he’d sign any necessary documents tomorrow. He also set up that he would be going there tomorrow after work to pick up the keys and move in. He was also glad that the landlord was so desperate for tenants after the revolution wiped out most of her customers with the evacuation. Connor wasn’t sure of her stance on androids, but she was willing to turn the other cheek on a lot of things such as Connor hesitating to say his last name was Stern so he took what he could get.

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #connor whump #connor angst

[lovelynyeongie]

title: a little crush

author: lovelynyeongie

pairing: jinyoung + reader, ft. yugyeom

genre: one-shot & fluff

summary: jinyoung gets jealous when he sees the number of pictures you have of yugyeom in your phone and how whipped you are whenever he visits your home

word count: 1,072 words

a/n: aight jingyeom stans where y’all at

date: 06/19/20

“Bye guys! See you tomorrow at practice, Jinyoungie-hyung!” Yugyeom said.

“Bye Yugyeom!” You smiled.

He smiled and left yours and Jinyoung’s home.

You giggled and cleaned up all the board games you both played.

“What are you laughing about?”

You looked behind you, hearing your boyfriend’s deep voice.

“Nothing, I just had fun today.” You smiled at him.

“Looks like you had too much fun with him, huh?” He grumbled, slumping down on the couch and continued watching his sitcom show.

You were confused at his tone but decided to disregard it.

Night came and you were getting ready for bed.

You laid down on the bed beside Jinyoung and checked your phone.

You saw a new text message from Yugyeom, you smiled and opened it.

After the message, you saw he sent a photo of himself looking all cute with his nose scrunched up.

“Such a cute dummy.” You said to yourself, smiling at the photo.

“Who?” You heard Jinyoung asking.

“Nothing.” You smiled, your eyes still glued to your phone.

You opened your photo library, pressing the album full of Yugyeom’s photos and scrolled through all of them with a smile plastered on your face.

You giggled as you looked at one of your favorite photos of him.

“What are you giggling at?” Jinyoung asked again.

“Nothing.” You said once again as you placed your phone on the bedside table, facing him with a smile.

He looked at you suspiciously while you smiled at him innocently.

He was too quick on his movements that you didn’t get to process what happened, Jinyoung grabbed your phone form your bedside table and got to unlock it.

“I trust you too much that I even gave you my phone password...” You mumbled to yourself.

“That’s because you love me too much.” He said in a playful tone.

You watched him scroll through your phone, you couldn’t tell what he was feeling since he looked apathetic. After scrolling, he gave your phone back to you and he turned his back to you.

Oh no, not this again.

“Jinyoung, what’s wrong?” You spoke softly.

No answer.

“Jinyoung... Why did you take my phone?” You asked him.

Still no answer.

“Jinyoungie, please don’t be mad. I know you’re mad when you’re like this to me so please don’t be, you know I don’t like the silent treatment.” You frowned.

“Why don’t you go to your Yuggie and ask him for your attention since it seems that he’s all that you have in your mind, even your phone?” Jinyoung spat.

You got confused, “what about Yugyeom?”

“I mean you look so into Yugyeom that I don’t even know if you still think about me...” Jinyoung quietly said.

“What do you mean?” You asked, still confused at his childish behavior.

“Haven’t you noticed your actions? Like that one time when he visited, you kept on smiling and looking at him with your sparkling eyes and even kept on holding him.” He said, standing up from the bed.

You looked at him, pure confusion in your expression as he kept on babbling about you and Yugyeom.

“Also that time when we all went out with the boys at the park and you kept on clinging on Yugyeom, you even agreed to his piggyback! And to add up to that, you both like the same ice cream flavor!” He exclaimed while pacing back and forth.

“Love, that was just pure coincidence...” You sighed.

“Oh so those pictures of him in your phone are also a pure coincidence? Wow.” Jinyoung looked at you, faking his amazement.

“Alright, I’ll admit. I did have a crush on Yugyeom back before we even dated, he was my bias.” You spoke softly, a soft blush creeping your face.

“See! You chose him as your bias, but not me.” He huffed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and scrolled through his phone.

You frowned and crawled up beside him, “Love...”

Jinyoung ignored you and continued to scroll through his phone.

“Love!” You smiled, hugging him from behind.

He doesn’t answer.

“Love, please don’t be jealous anymore...” You said, hugging him even tighter.

“I’m not jealous.” He said.

“Doesn’t look like it though.” You replied.

“I’m not! I swear, I’m just...” He tried to think of something to let this topic go.

“Just what? Jealous?” You grinned at him as he stared at you in dismay.

“Alright, I’m jealous. I’m jealous that you show your gummy smile at him, you show your pretty and sparkly eyes to him when you talk to each other, you cling onto him when you’re only supposed to show and do it only to me!” He exclaimed, standing up.

You softened at his gaze, smiling at him.

“What are you smiling at?” His face mixed with anger and confusion.

“You look adorable when you’re jealous.” You giggled.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You laughed.

“Somewhere.” He blankly replied.

You quickly stood up and hugged him from the back, trying to pull him back to the bed.

“You know that I only love you right? Even if you have a giant petty ass, I still love you,” You muffled on his back, “I love you too much to even think about another man besides you.”

You couldn’t see Jinyoung’s expression but you could’ve sworn you saw his ears turned red.

“You’re too cheesy, it’s disgusting.” He chuckled as he faced you and hugged you back.

“I’m only like this to you, so don’t be jealous anymore. I treat Yugyeom like an older brother, nothing more.” You smiled, looking into his eyes.

Jinyoung grinned, “I’m glad because you’re only mine.”

As much as this happens kinda almost every day, you still manage to deal with his petty ass and work out things. And besides, it’s pretty funny and cute to see Jinyoung turning into a child just to beg for love and attention.

#park jinyoung #jinyoung imagines #jinyoung scenarios #got7 jinyoung #got7 park jinyoung #park jinyoung got7 #jinyoung got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 #fluff #lim jaebeom #mark tuan #jackson wang #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom #lovelynyeongie

[fandomsnerd]

Fighting words

(Cross posted with AO3)

There was blood on his knuckles. He watched it soak off, slowly diffusing into the bowl of water, tinging it a dirty red. He flexed the hand, wanting to disturb the swirling red tendrils, promptly wincing at the sharp jolt of pain running up his arm the moment had caused. Hardly his first stupid decision of the evening.

“You’re supposed to be cleaning the hand, not just staring at it.”

Jaskier’s flicked over to the Witcher, stood, arms folded across the room, frown tattooed across his brows as he watched Jaskier waste time playing with the water meant to clean him.

“I am…” He trailed off, there was no point turning this into another unnecessary fight. Swallowing down the pain Jaskier set to work scrubbing off as much of the blood as he could. It felt almost futile a task, the open cuts on his knuckles just sluggishly continuing to bleed when he removed his hand. At least he will have gotten rid of the blood that wasn’t his. The fucking bastard. His mind snapped back, remembering the crack of fist meeting flesh, the crunch of broken cartilage -

The sharp pain of someone touching his hand snapping him out of the trance. Jaskier yanking the hand against his chest, cradling it. He felt tears, hot in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. Fuck. Geralt merely grunted in response, reaching gently for the hand again. Jaskier batted him away weakly, keeping the hand firmly guarded against him.

Geralt sighed, “We need to wrap it Jaskier.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s broken.”

Jaskier sucked in a breath. It was broken, he knew that, still, something about hearing Geralt actually say it made it so much more real. As carefully as he could he unravelled, letting Geralt take hold of the hand. Jaskier hissed at initial contact, uncommittedly attempting to tug it back, but this time Geralt had grasped his wrist, holding him in place. He grunted irritably, and got started on cleaning each of the cuts, forcefully scrubbing out the grime Jaskier had missed. The bard swore quietly, trying, but failing, to remain composed as the Witcher tended to his wounds.

Geralt sighed again, letting go of Jaskier to grab the bandages he had on hand. “It may need a splint.” He shook his head in annoyance, looking at the bard. “It was stupid.”

Jaskier looked away, avoiding Geralt’s gaze, “I don’t regret it.”

“You will. Tomorrow, or next week. When it still hurts, and you can’t play that damned instrument of yours.”

Jaskier let out a surprised laugh, “is that what you think? That once I realise the consequences of my actions, I’ll, what, regret defending you?”

“Dammit Jaskier you shouldn’t have done anything in the first place.” Geralt growled, tugging slightly harder than intended on the bandages he was wrapping around the bard’s hand. “I don’t need anyone protecting me, me or my honour.”

Jaskier winced at the pressure on his hand, bones protesting as they where pushed back into place. “Maybe…maybe sometimes it is less about what you need and more about what you deserve.”

Geralt snorted, “What I deserve is to have travel companions smart enough not to start bar fights over petty name calling.”

“Geralt…”

“It was stupid, you shouldn’t have done anything”

“Oh, so you would have me just- sit idly by as that man- that self-important pompous asshole struts around making a- a- mockery of you- of us both! Tarnishing the very reputations, I have worked so hard to maintain, is that it Geralt?!” Jaskier spat the final words out, feeling the heat of rage restoking itself within him.  He tugged his now bandaged hand free from the Witcher’s grasp and set to angrily pacing the room.

Geralt sighed, again. “You can’t go punching every villager we meet who takes a disliking to us Jaskier.”

“Oh hhoh you’re just saying that because you didn’t hear what he said, the rat nosed bastard! He deserved exactly what he got, thinking he can just go around calling you a- a- a—”

“A monster?” Geralt calmly finished for him.

“Yes! You- oh.” Jaskier deflated slightly, realising Geralt evidently was already aware of exactly what had transpired earlier. “Ah, you heard that then.”

“Yes Jaskier.”

“And you’re not- you don’t mind?”

“It’s fine, Jaskier, it doesn’t matter.”

“It- it doesn’t matter?” Jaskier spluttered, hands flailing as he searched for a suitable response. He considered simply throwing something at the Witcher, beat some sense into him.

Geralt shrugged. “I’ve long made peace with the name, I don’t care, and you shouldn’t either.”

“But I do.”

“Why?”

“Because- because you’re not one!”

Geralt fell silent, “I’m… not a man-“

Jaskier lobbed the nearest object at him, Geralt grunting in surprise as the thick book slammed directly into his face “Jaskier-“

“You’re not a monster!”

Geralt held up his hands, hoping to in some way placate the bard, “Jaskier-“

“You’re not- I – can’t stand them thinking it, let alone- You! about yourself!”

“Dammit Jaskier, calm down.”

Jaskier paused, staring at the Witcher in clear unhidden rage. He could feel his hand throbbing in pain, waving it around so soon after breaking it should probably be added to the list of stupid things he’d done that night. “I can’t just- you’re not a monster Geralt.”

Geralt rubbed his temples, this was decidedly not how he had imagined the evening unfolding. “Alright.”

“Al-alright?!”

“I know… I know I’m not a monster in the way that they mean the word, and that is enough for me.” He moved, slowly, closing the distance between him and Jaskier in the hopes of coaxing the dammed bard to sit down. Stop damaging the already broken hand he had just reset.

Jaskier spluttered at him, eyes flicking away to once again the Witcher’s gaze. “that’s not- you shouldn’t have to deal with being called- Geralt you’re not a monster.”

Geralt placed a hand on the bard’s shoulder, to shift him over, towards the bed. “It’s okay, Jaskier, really.”

“It’s not-“

“it is.” They where so close together now, foreheads almost brushing, Geralt wanted to take a hand, curl it under Jaskier’s chin, raise his head. He wanted to thank him, for being so… ridiculously fierce and… stupid. Thank him for caring, when so many others didn’t. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. take the bard’s trust, friendship, loyalty, and taint it with his feelings.

Jaskier finally looked up at him, staring back. For a second Geralt worried that he somehow knew what the Witcher had been thinking, knew what Geralt had been feeling. Instead Jaskier just sighed, shook his head at the entire situation, “it’s not fair Geralt, you- you deserve better.”

Geralt chuckled, humourlessly, “it doesn’t matter what I deserve-“

“It should.” Geralt almost gasped at the statement, as clear and concise as it was. There was no question in the bard’s voice, to him this was a definite fact.

He’s not sure who moved first, perhaps they moved at the same time, both leaning in, covering the small gap between them, lips meeting. A chaste peck quickly turning into more as they pressed their mouths together, Geralt risking a nip at the bard’s lips, reaching out, grabbing him by the hips and yanking him against Geralt and-

“OH FUCK!” Jaskier stumbled back, clutching his broken hand, the jostling too much for it.

Geralt let out a dry chuckle, watching the bard jump around in pain, “here, Jaskier, let me see.”

Jaskier held out the offending arm, letting Geralt tug the bandages back into place, wincing at each touch. He watched the Witcher, nervously, “I- Geralt-“

Geralt looked up from his task, pausing in it to rest a hand against Jaskier’s cheek and pull him in for a single, simple kiss, hoping the action would answer any and all of the bard’s current questions. Judging from Jaskier’s smile, it had. Geralt finished with the bandages quickly enough, this time allowing for no protests as he pushed the bard down, onto the bed, “rest, Jaskier. And don’t move that hand.” He paused, “and no more bar fights.”

Jaskier bounced back onto the bed with a huff, “I make no promises.”

Geralt grunted in reply, not thrilled but also unsurprised by the response. He moved to tidy away the rest of his medical supplies when Jaskier caught hold of him with his good hand. “lay with me?”

He had no chance of hiding the smile tugging at the corner of his lips at hearing the question. Careful, so as not to disturb Jaskier’s hand any further, Geralt lay down beside Jaskier, smile creeping larger when the bard shifted to press himself against Geralt. He turned, tucking his chin down to see the bard staring back at him.

Lying there, Geralt found himself thinking that he simply didn’t know how he was supposed to care about what the tiny backwater villagers thought of him, what they called him, when it was clear, to the one person who mattered, he was not a monster.  

#The Witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt/jaskier #gaskier #my fics

[aquamarineicecream]

Rewind Sanders Sides Superhero AU - Chapter 4

Ao3 Link

>Chapter 1

>Chapter 5

Logan regretted it.

He regretted everything that had led to that unimaginable moment. The shock was slowly subsiding and giving way to a much deeper emotion. Anger flooded through him, mingling with the grief to form a near deadly combination. The pain crept in, not unlike tomorrow creeping in this petty pace from day to day. Logan loathed his ability to effortlessly recall the iconic line from Macbeth’s Act V, Scene 5 soliloquy much like he currently loathed the man responsible for talking passionately about Shakespeare's dramas so frequently that the knowledge in its entirety had long ago become instilled in his head. The same man who was also at fault for the destruction of one of his most prized possessions. The man who was now looking at him with the innocence of a puppy, yet with the notorious mischief of a raccoon lying just underneath the surface. Roman.

It all started the day after Deceit’s suggestion to train Virgil. The team decided it was best not to waste any time and instead to begin the training after a small, slightly rushed breakfast cooked by none other than Logan himself, who'd been taking cooking lessons for the past month and was more than happy to put his new skill to use.

“Okay kiddo, so I talked it over with Logan before you got up and we figured it would be best to start the training on the roof. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure. But I really don't think this'll work. I've been trying for the last five years to control this thing but I've found it's pretty pointless.”

“Oh cheer up and don't be such a Negative Nancy! We'll have your powers shipshape and Bristol fashion in no time.”

“I'll take your word for that,” Virgil mumbled into his pancakes, avoiding Roman's overly optimistic gaze as though worried it was contagious. Logan had observed much about Virgil Messana in the past day alone. As one of the top intelligence workers in the Superiors’ organization and the soon-to-be head chairman of the entire intelligence sector of the association if he played his cards right, Logan had already created a mental list detailing Messana’s habits and ticks, down to the way he tugged his worn hoodie sleeves further over his hands every time he got particularly anxious.

Quite frankly, Virgil Messana fascinated him. He knew every detail about the man’s file, yet the man himself was slowly proving to be quite the enigma. He was rather quiet at times but he always was able to come up with a snarky response if needed which appeared to be having some effect on Roman. They'd begun to have quite the rapport and even Logan, despite all his oblivious glory, was able to sense underlying tension every time Virgil was near Roman.

“Lo, everything a-okay?” A gentle voice interrupted Logan's thoughts and he abruptly realized that for the past minute, his unfocused gaze had been fixated on the chair where Patton had previously been seated.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I'm alright. I merely became momentarily lost in thought, that's all,” Logan was quick to reply as the world shifted back into focus and he became vividly aware of the fact that he and Patton were the only two left at the table.

“Okey dokey. If you're sure you're okay, then we can head out.” Patton's voice was warm and grounding, as Logan had discovered it so often was. It was comforting, and refreshing even, when put into context with the cold reality they all called normalcy.

“We should join the others,” Logan agreed with a nod. He stood and picked up his mug to bring it with him, ignorant, as always, to Patton's gaze lingering on his retreating figure as the young hero began to lead the way up the stairs.

“What a beautiful day to blow stuff up!”

Roman’s enthusiastic remark was met with a disapproving look from Logan.

“What? I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little. It’s too early to look so serious,” the larger man protested. Logan merely crossed his arms and turned away to look at Virgil, electing not to dignify Roman with a response.

“Alright, Virgil. It’s time to begin. Please hold this and stand a small ways back.” Logan handed Virgil a small beanbag and waited for the other man to take a few steps back before picking up a notebook and pen he’d left on a small table he’d set up earlier that morning. Patton had arrived by now and was standing alongside Deceit and Roman, all three a safe distance away from their new recruit. Logan and Deceit had spoken last night and decided on how they were going to conduct the experiments. He nodded at Deceit to ready the stopwatch before speaking again. “On my count, I would like you to attempt to explode the item you’re currently in possession of. Ready?” It was evident to all of them that the young soon-to-be-hero was far from ‘ready’ based on his trembling hands alone, but Virgil gave a small nod, allowing Logan to proceed with his plan. “Three… two… one… now.”

The team watched with bated breath as Virgil closed his eyes. Logan had a tight grip on his pen which was poised over the paper, ready to scribble down notes and observations at a moment's notice. They watched on as…nothing happened.

It was the epitome of underwhelming. Logan made sure to write a note of how Virgil’s entire body, not just his hands, was trembling now as the young man opened his eyes, the disappointment in himself evident.

“Maybe you just need to hold it a little longer?” Patton suggested hesitantly. Virgil set down the beanbag without meeting the other man’s gaze.

“That won’t make any difference. I told you all this was pointless,” Virgil replied darkly, haunted by his many failed attempts from the last five years.

“Aw, kiddo, you can’t give up already! It took me a while with my powers too, but I’m sure you’ll get it sooner or later.”

“I guess…” Virgil picked up the beanbag with a sigh and studied it for a moment before closing his eyes to concentrate again.

“Alright.” Logan readied his pen once more. “Begin your second attempt.”

~~~~~

The sun was beating down, making the day uncomfortably warm. Uncomfortable also happened to be the optimal word to describe the tension the group shared at the moment. It had been hours of trial after trial yet no matter how many times Logan instructed Virgil to attempt to corrode and subsequently explode the item in his hands, failure appeared to be inevitable.

By now, their efforts had become both more tired and desperate. Logan had suggested Virgil try holding different objects since the beanbag remained unaffected by Virgil’s powers. These objects included but were not limited to: Virgil’s old pair of gloves, a sponge, an umbrella, an engraved gold pocket watch (given to Virgil by Roman after the latter stole it from Deceit), a handful of playbills (given to Virgil by Deceit as his revenge on Roman), a Rubix Cube (as Roman’s attempt to pull Logan into Deceit’s and his mini war), and lastly, a package of Oreos. No one was quite sure why Roman chose the last one, yet none had time to question it since Virgil refused to even attempt to corrode and explode it, saying he was insulted by the very notion of being told to destroy his favorite cookie.

However, the process of experimenting with different objects had ended almost an hour ago and their spirits were once again low. Logan’s notebook now contained multiple pages detailing the distinct ways in which Virgil held each object, hands still shaking each time he concentrated regardless of how many times they had already gone through this process.

“I believe that we should all take a respite. It would appear that one is far overdue.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, Lo. A small break sounds like just the ticket.” Patton turned to Virgil. “How about we go get you something to eat for lunch, kiddo?”

Logan closed his notebook as Virgil set down the beanbag in the pile of other unsuccessful, now-neglected objects before following Patton to the kitchen.

“Maybe we should try another remote. That could be his specialty,” Roman joked while walking over to Deceit and Logan.

“Don’t be foolish, Roman. We already know his powers have worked on other materials in the past. There must be some minute element to this that we’re missing.” Logan handed his notebook to Deceit for the other man to look through.

“In all seriousness, what do you two make of Virgil?” Deceit asked without looking up from the page he was reading.

“He’s a good guy deep down. I know it. But our stupid Superiors are keeping stuff from us, I’m sure of that. And it wouldn’t be the first time either. They’re always up to something.”

“Relax, Roman. You know better than to speak ill of our employers. You’re beginning to sound like Deceit with his constant suspicions.”

“I’m only saying that we shouldn’t keep trusting them so much when we never know if the next legislation they pass will stop us from even seeing each other.” Roman crossed his arms. “And you’re only happy with them because you’re their golden boy who’s one successful mission away from becoming their new Head of Intelligence and leaving the rest of us to try and deal with whoever they choose as your replacement.”

“There is no cause for you to be upset over this. My replacement will most likely be Virgil at this rate, which is fortunate for you considering the fact that ever since he was kept alive, you’ve appeared to be happier than you have acted in quite some time. But either way, nothing is for certain yet, especially because they might not even choose for me to retire from being ‘Logic’ and take the mantle and responsibilities of the new position instead.”

“Logan, we all know that you’ll get the promotion. All I ask is that you consider looking closely into the reason the position is vacant in the first place.” Deceit spoke calmly as he looked up from the notes before closing the notebook and handing it back to Logan.

“It’s shady,” Roman added to break the silence that had begun to fill the space. “And you should also keep in mind that not all of us started here by choice, so you never know what you’re gonna have to deal with in a spot that high up.”

Logan had no response as both his and Roman’s thoughts drifted to what Patton had confided in the others precisely two years and 314 days ago. Their momentary distraction allowed Deceit a chance to force the pained expression from his face without either of the other men noticing it was ever even there at all. It seemed that his return to a neutral expression had come just in time too, as at that moment, Patton and Virgil walked back onto the roof, each carrying plates of snacks to share with the others. They set them down on the table and Virgil grabbed a couple chips before retreating to a deserted corner. Roman ate a pretzel before immediately going after him.

“Hey, Messana.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“So, you liking your second day so far?”

“You mean, am I enjoying disappointing you guys and making a complete fool of myself? Meh, it’s just another day for me.” Virgil shrugged as Roman rolled his eyes in response.

“You’re hardly disappointing, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance. You just need to keep practicing and I’m sure you’ll get it.”

“I guess,” Virgil replied doubtfully.

“C’mon, I’ll prove it to you. All you need is to try a little thing called trial-by-fire. Though I guess in your case, it’s trial-by-matchstick since it’s not exactly a life and death thing.” Roman led the way over to the table and Virgil hesitantly followed, curious to see what Roman had in mind. Roman’s back was facing Virgil so the smaller man didn’t notice as Roman grabbed the first object on the table, without stopping to check what it was, and flung it at Virgil while shouting “catch!”

“Roman!”

Virgil fumbled to catch the object but it slipped through his hands and Logan looked on in horror as his prized TARDIS-shaped mug smashed on the concrete.

“Roman!!”

It was Logan, not Virgil, who shouted this time. The educated man had a look of murder on his usually inexpressive face as he stormed over to Roman and Virgil.

“What were you thinking?! You can’t simply surprise someone by flinging easily breakable mugs at them! Especially when the mug isn’t even your own,” Logan fumed.

“I’m sorry, Specs. I didn’t realize it was that. But it’s just a mug and I can get you a new one online,” Roman offered apologetically.

“You should have stopped to consider your actions before proceeding with them. And I would not like to receive a new mug from you, I can purchase a new one myself. But it is the principle of the matter! You always do actions such as these, including on our missions when you hurl yourself into combat and potentially dangerous situations with a complete lack of forethought and without having paused to either listen or contribute to the plan. You’re impossible! And another thing -” Logan paused momentarily from his tirade to adjust his glasses and take a breath but Deceit shushed him before the other man had the chance to finish his sentence. Logan, in turn, turned his deadly glare on Deceit, silently imploring him to have a justified explanation for the interruption.

“Everyone be quiet and listen,” was the only response Deceit gave. They all held their breath while listening attentively. Patton was the first of the others to notice the faint pounding coming from downstairs.

“Someone’s here.”

The alarm in his tone was evident and in mere seconds he was racing down the stairs with his coworkers on his heels and Virgil, slightly unsure of what to do, bringing up the rear. Once the group reached the living room, it became evident that the noise was due to someone banging on their front door. Patton, being the nicest of them, walked over to answer it, leaving the rest in suspense. Logan shared an uneasy look with Deceit, both men hoping the person at the door was a civilian who’d gotten lost instead of who both men had a sneaking suspicion the unidentified visitor truly was.

“Of course you can come in, sir.” Patton’s cheerful voice carried into the room and Logan’s heart sunk with the knowledge that his guess at the mystery person’s identity was all but confirmed to be who he worried it was.

“Wait in here for a sec, please,” Patton said, leaving the person by the door before rushing back into the room where the others were.

“A representative is here. He’s come for Virgil,” Patton explained in a hushed tone.

“We can’t let them take him!” Roman whispered in reply.

“We won’t. I’ll talk with them to try and come to a reasonable resolution. Logan, Patton, it would be best if you join me.”

“I’m coming too. If we’re gonna give a case for Messana to stay here then I want to help.”

“No. You’re not diplomatic enough so it’s better if you stay here and keep him out of sight.”

“But that’s not fair. I should be able to help just as much as the rest of you do, Snakey McSnakerson,” Roman argued while crossing his arms defensively.

“You know, Ro, your never-ending nicknames don’t exactly help your case.”

“Fine.” Roman gave a slightly exasperated sigh before motioning for Virgil to start walking down the hall that led to their bedrooms.

“Wait, Roman,” Logan went after him as the others left to go speak with the representative. “I apologize for allowing my temper to get the best of me earlier. It was childish and unprofessional and I quite hope that you’re willing to forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Calculator Watch. You’re already forgiven. But are you sure you don’t want me to get you a new Doctor Who mug?”

“I am certain of it, Roman. However, thank you anyways for the offer.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“About the conversation I’m about to partake in, I am sorry that you can’t join us but it’s for the best. Deceit has proven in the past that he often has an overarching plan, so it’s better that we trust his decisions to be logical.”

“I guess…”

“You shouldn’t concern yourself about the matter. Currently, your main priority is to assure that Virgil does not dwell too much on the setbacks of today nor that he worries an excessive amount about the meeting at hand. I have a working theory that I’ll explain to you later regarding his powers in relation to his emotions but for now, attempt to keep him calm so that we may ensure no inopportune mishaps occur whilst our visitor is present.”

“Okay, you got it. I know exactly how to deal with our resident emo.” Roman gave the other man a reassuring grin and turned to go the same way as before, hearing Logan muttering a doubtful “I’m sure” under his breath as Roman made his way to Virgil’s temporary room.

Roman walked into the practically bare guest room, unsurprised to see Virgil awkwardly perched on the edge of one of the only pieces of furniture in the small room. Roman sat next to him, midnight blue eyes a striking contrast to the drab gray sheets of the twin-sized bed. In fact, everything about Roman looked out of place compared to his surroundings, from his auburn hair to his bright red and white bomber jacket covering both his fitted black shirt and toned muscles, which Virgil was now realizing he was having a weirdly strong urge to keep admiring. He despised that urge much like he hated how seeing Roman this close and in a casual outfit instead of his uniform. It felt so commonplace when it should be feeling foreign considering this man was still a stranger to him.

“There’s nothing to do in here so do you wanna go to my room instead?” Roman offered, interrupting the other man’s thoughts. Virgil stared at him without responding. “It has a TV,” he added with a disarming grin.

“Alright, I’m sold. Let’s go.”

With that, Roman stood up and led Virgil down the hall to the furthest room from the one they’d just left. Roman flopped back on his bed while Virgil entered. The room was accentuated with as much red and gold as possible, falling just short of appearing cluttered. Roman’s room had an assortment of both poster sized and polaroid photographs showcasing deserted beaches and sunsets peeking through from behind snowy mountain landscapes, which covered the starch white walls. There was a distinct vintage feel to the decor, yet it lacked the element that made it feel lived-in. Instead, it was closer to one of those display rooms one sees in department stores; perfect at a glance, but disguising an empty feeling underneath.

The only indications of life there were a red and black acoustic guitar propped up in the corner furthest from the door and the man currently sitting up in order to start flipping through channels. Roman watched out of the corner of his eye as Virgil took in the new surroundings.

“Do you like the photos?”

“Yeah. Surprisingly, they’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks. I took them myself.” Roman continued looking through channels for a minute longer before giving up.

“Nothing good is on so I’m gonna look for something on Netflix.” Virgil sat down next to him as Roman opened the streaming service only to have it crash moments later, causing Roman to groan in frustration.

“Oh, come on! You’d think being a world-renowned superhero would at least warrant having fast enough internet to let us watch a movie!” Roman tried opening it again in hopes that it would load but his attempt was in vain. “This stupid thing won’t work.” He tossed down the remote and crossed his arms, appearing bothered by the device yet in truth, it was for another reason. “First, I’m not even considered to have another chance to help and defend you and now this thing refuses to work!”

“Well none of you should be talking for me. I don’t need some kind of knight in shining armor. I can take care of myself.” Virgil paused to narrow his eyes suspiciously. “And what do you mean ‘another chance’?” Virgil’s distrusting gaze landed on Roman who looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment before quickly racking his brain for an answer.

“That’s classified.”

“Seriously?”

“…yeah.”

“Alright then.” Virgil examined Roman for a moment before adding, “If everything’s gonna be classified and we can’t watch anything, then I’m going back to the guest room.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But for the record, I know what you’re doing, Count Woe-laf, and it totally didn’t work. I’m just nice and enjoy breaking rules. But anyways, what I was talking about was that I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole ‘Let’s Kill Messana’ party but following orders is part of my job so I couldn’t really protest.” Roman looked down to study his crimson comforter which he decided had just become the most interesting object in the whole universe. He was sure Virgil suspected there was more behind Roman’s original comment that he was holding back but he didn’t press for details. Virgil stayed quiet while watching Roman for a moment before speaking again.

“Can I ask you a question? How did you start working like this? And why do you guys sometimes act like you know each other and other times act like total strangers?”

“That’s more than one question,” Roman joked in an attempt to lighten the mood to which Virgil rolled his eyes. “I started when I was recruited when I was 19. I was working with a partner at the time and doing jobs for hire when some people saw me use my powers, I guess. I got an anonymous message giving me a time, date, and location so I went to see what it was all about. I met a guy there who told me he wanted to recruit me for a program they were setting up for people who were ‘special’.” Roman paused at the memory, guilt plaguing his features for a brief moment before he hastened to finish the story.

“I took him up on the offer, they trained me, and now, here I am,” he said, giving Virgil a forced smile.

“Oh…what about your partner? Are you still close?”

“He was like a brother to me. But no, we don’t talk too much ever since I left three years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil offered after a short, unbearable silence.

“Don’t be.” Roman gave Virgil a smile in reassurance that he hoped appeared more sincere than his last one.

“So...you were recruited like one of the Avengers?”

“Think more like the Justice League, though all those comic book heroes don’t have anything on the real thing. But pretty much how it works is that we’ve all got our own places to protect, like how Batman has Gotham, but we team up for certain high profile missions. This place is where we stay when we're doing those missions so it's pretty much our version of the Watchtower. And, to answer your question from earlier too, we only know bits and pieces about each other and our pasts. Our Superiors give us information on a need-to-know basis, so all we’ve got to go on when it comes to each other is whatever they decide to tell us or we want to share with the rest of the team. For example, none of us knew each other’s secret identities for almost a year. And we still don’t know Deceit’s name. Or pretty much anything about him.” Roman turned so he was directly facing Virgil before speaking again. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”

“Alright fine. Ask away.”

“Is your favorite song ‘The Black Parade?’” His eyes had a mischievous glint that perfectly complemented his teasing grin. Virgil only glared at him in reply. “What? You look emo enough,” Roman added, feigning innocence.

“You know what? I’m not even gonna answer that. I’m pretty sure if I did, it would only encourage you, which is literally the last thing I want.”

“You’re no fun, Marilyn Morose.”

“Wow, another nickname. So original,” Virgil retorted sarcastically. “Besides, you can’t judge me when your favorite song is probably something from a cheesy, overrated musical.”

“Excuse you, my favorite song is not even close to that, actually. It’s ‘La Canción’ by J Balvin and Bad Bunny.”

“I’m sorry- Bad what?”

“Bad Bunny. You know I gotta support my fellow Puerto Rican.”

“What kind of name is Bad Bunny?”

“Shhh. Don’t question it.”

“Alright fine Princey, I’ll admit it. I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“Well, I’ve got a good memory associated with that song,” Roman explained with a shrug. “It’s a pretty good song too.”

“In that case, you’ve gotta play it for me sometime.”

“Okay, I will,” Roman agreed with a smile. Before either could say anything else, they heard shouting coming from the kitchen, interrupting any chance they could have had to continue their conversation.

“We should go see what’s wrong.”

“Wait, but I’m supposed to keep you here and away from the representative.”

“Technically yeah, you are supposed to do that. But don’t you wanna go with me to see what’s happening?” Virgil asked while standing up.

“You know I do. We gotta make sure no one catches us over there. I’m sure we’ll be fine though, so let’s go.” Roman stood and walked into the hallway, being as quiet as possible as he and Virgil made their way to the source of the ruckus.

“-we will not hesitate to remove him from your custody by force if necessary.”

“If you want him you’ll have to go through me!”

“That can be arranged,” the stranger’s voice snapped coldly.

“If you insult Patton one more time, I can personally assure you that you will be leaving this building both without a job and possibly with a stronger understanding of the importance of self-preservation considering that I will make you regret ever setting foot in here,” Logan threatened, immediately jumping to the sweeter man’s defense.

Roman noticed Virgil's visible surprise at hearing Logan speak in such an emotional manner twice in one day, especially considering that this time was much more passionate than the first.

“They have a kind of thing going on between them. It's complicated,” Roman whispered to Virgil to serve as an explanation before staying quiet so they could eavesdrop once more.

“Calm down boys,” Deceit, ever the negotiator, said in a placating tone. “I swear to you that we’ll uphold our end of the bargain as long as you stand by yours.”

“I still say this whole deal is ridiculous.”

“Maybe it is, but keep in mind that you were the one who set the terms for our compromise. Terms that we’re going out of our way to agree to.”

“Fine. I’ll be sending someone in a month to verify that you’ve made the progress you assured me you will. I hope we won’t have the misfortune of seeing each other again.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” Logan fired back.

Roman and Virgil moved from their hiding place in time to see the scathing glare the representative gave the three other men in the room before he turned on his heel and stormed out the front door. They, in turn, rushed into the kitchen the moment they heard Deceit close the door after him.

“What happened? Are they coming back for Virgil?”

“Calm down, Roman,” Deceit said in a soothing tone. “We have until December 2nd to train our new friend. That’s when another representative will come back to check up on us. If we fail, they’ll take him to train him using their own methods.” Seeing the clear worry on Roman’s face, he quickly added, “But that’s a month away. Everything will be fine by then.” Deceit’s reassuring smile was just as false as his reassurances, but Roman didn’t want to question it. The two continued talking about ways to speed up the training, with Virgil giving occasional commentary, while Logan and Patton walked back into the living room.

“Are you alright? In regards to your emotions, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Lo.” Patton sighed heavily as he sat on the couch. “You didn’t have to defend me back there.”

“It was only right of me to do so.” Logan sat next to him, stiff posture relaxing slightly, the way it only ever did when he was alone with Patton. “You make a conscientious decision to act as kind as you possibly can to every individual you meet in spite of your upbringing and the events you have lived through which have all figuratively shaped you to become the amiable and considerate person you are now. I possess a profound respect for you for that and you should not have to tolerate sitting by and listening to your good-natured personality be slandered in such an unjust fashion.”

“Thanks, Logan. That’s nice of you to say. I should be asking if you are okay, though. We never got a chance to talk after the whole thing that happened on the roof.”

“Oh, that. I must implore you to consider moving past my immature actions from earlier. I shouldn’t have reacted in such a rash manner to the situation and quite frankly, am ashamed and embarrassed by the part I played in the ordeal.”

“Logan, it’s alright to show your emotions more than just once in a blue moon. It’s not healthy to bottle all these tricky feelings up all the time and only let them out in bursts when you can’t help it. You don’t have to try and deal with it on your own so no one will think any less of you if you need help sometimes.”

“I appreciate your concern, Patton, but please do not take offense to the fact that I am going to continue managing things the way I always have.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. But just remember I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I was wondering though, why did you get so upset about the mug? I get that it’s your favorite one, but you can replace it, right?” Despite Patton’s expression remaining as gentle as ever, Logan lowered his head to avoid the other man’s gaze, his own expression quickly becoming clouded with a look resembling shame.

“I am very much aware of how juvenile it is for me to have attachments to inanimate objects, yet, despite my best efforts, it would appear that I unintentionally allowed myself to mentally form an emotional connection to that particular mug.” Logan quickly adjusted his glasses to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts just as Patton’s gloved hand gently cupped to Logan’s face and tilted it up so they could look each other in the eyes. Patton looked silently into Logan’s eyes for a second before speaking quietly, unaware that Logan’s mind had completely blanked of all thought the second Patton had touched him.

“You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to.” He lowered his hand. “I don’t want you to be pressured, Lo.”

“No - I mean, that’s alright. I want to tell you, Patton. If only based on the fact that at the very least I owe an explanation for my unconventional behavior.” He glanced down in an effort to hide any residual hesitance in his emerald green eyes, before meeting Patton’s gaze once more.

“I cared so deeply about it because that mug was the first thing I was ever able to purchase with my own money that was not an absolute necessity. I purchased it when I was only eighteen years old, a few months after I had been forcefully instructed to leave my aunt’s house for being too much of a burden ever since I had no choice but to move in with her. The mug was symbolic of a milestone for me, I suppose. It was physical proof that I truly was free and no longer had to rely on her for anything thanks to my new job working in intelligence for our Superiors, even before I discovered my powers. Furthermore, that mug was the first thing of mine, ever since I moved in with her, that I could own without being worried what repercussions might occur due to it being an object designed to represent one of my favorite television programs.”

“Wow, I had no idea it meant so much to you.”

“I’m sure you think I’m rather foolish now, though.”

“What? No way! Tons of people have stuff they associate with a memory or feeling. That doesn’t mean you should think you’re silly for having those feelings, Lo.”

“Well, thank you for listening. However, I regret taking so much of your time.”

“Don’t worry about that. I like spending time with you.” Patton’s smile was infectious, causing a hint of a smile to grace Logan’s features before he schooled his expression back to the emotionless one he usually had.

“We should go discuss Virgil’s training with the others. Who knows what eccentric ideas they may have come up with while we were gone?”

“Good point.”

The two stood and made their way back into the kitchen, rejoining the rest of the group, anxious for a solution to controlling Virgil’s powers.

~~~~~

In what felt like no time at all, December 2nd arrived and they had yet to find a solution. Virgil had been training for hours every day, but so far the only times he’d successfully managed to blow something up had been unintentional. Now, as they sat around the kitchen table in palpable tension, they restlessly awaited the foreboding knocks that were bound to mark the arrival of the representative.

“Kiddos, I know today’s a big day, but you should eat up as much as you can. We’d hate to host a guest on an empty stomach.” Patton attempted a calming smile, yet it fell short of reaching his eyes.

“I don’t think any of us can eat anything today, padre,” Roman replied, noting how Patton too had been pushing his food around on his plate for the past five minutes.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, worry leaking into his expression for a moment before he quickly smiled again to save face. Patton turned to Logan. “Lo, can you come with me to the kitchen to help me get a serving dish I left there?”

“Of course.”

“Great!” Patton said cheerfully and led the other man to the kitchen.

“I wasn’t aware that there was still a dish remaining. I was under the impression we had already brought all of them to the table but it appears I must have been mistaken,” Logan said as they arrived.

“Actually, you’re right. We already took all the food for the others over there. But the thing is, I needed an excuse to get you to come here so we could be alone,” Patton admitted sheepishly as he took off his gloves which had previously had syrup spilled on them. He quickly began to wash his hands as both as excuse to get the remaining syrup off his wrist and to avoid Logan’s perplexed stare,

“Patton, if you needed to talk to me about a private matter, you are aware that you could have simply said that from the start and I would have come, right?” Logan leaned back against the counter as he spoke, a touch of amusement and curiosity in his tone.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that I know you don’t like showing any feelings in front of the others.” Patton dried his hands and kept his back to Logan as he opened the cabinet in front of himself, making sure Logan couldn’t see what he was now holding with the utmost care. “Plus I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” he added, barely able to contain his excitement.

“What? Patton I’m afraid that you have - metaphorically - lost me.”

“Well, you told me how much your TARDIS mug meant to you, and I know it’s been a month but I can tell it’s still bothering you a bit and on top of that there’s all the nerves of today, so…” Patton trailed off as he turned around with a small smile, a Baymax mug cradled in his hands. “I made this for you. I remembered when you were telling me all about how much you like the message and symbolism in Big Hero Six, so I really hope you like this.”

“Patton - “ Logan cut himself off before his voice betrayed how overcome with emotion he truly was. “I can’t believe you actually listened and remember what I told you months ago. And,” he paused to quickly adjust his glasses in an attempt to distract himself from his slightly watering eyes, “thank you so much for taking the time to make this. It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.”

“It was no trouble at all, Lo,” Patton replied, beaming. He turned the round, white mug in his hands so the front decorated with the two black dots and line between them representing Baymax’s eyes along with the small gray circle located close to the mug’s base and hand painted to mirror where Baymax’s ID chips could be inserted was facing away from Logan. Instead, Patton showed the other man where he had painted the feeling chart Baymax used in the movie.

“Now with this you can ‘rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10’ without having to try and find the right words to talk about all those icky emotions. And if you’re ever feeling down and wanna talk about it without interrupting the others, you can just look at me and point to however you’re feeling so we can go get a quiet space to figure everything out. Just know you can always come to me.” Patton smiled, the same way that always made Logan feel a strange warm and tingling sensation in his chest.

“This means a great deal to me.” Logan felt a small smile tugging at his lips and for once, he allowed himself to experience the fleeting blissful feeling. Logan didn’t hesitate to reach out to take his new mug from Patton so that he could admire it further, taking Patton by surprise and rendering him unable to set down the mug fast enough. Logan, still distracted, had yet to realize his mistake. The moment their skin touched, it was too late.

Logan’s body hit the floor with a thud.

Next Chapter>>

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[thatsouthernanthem]

hi can you write more of kassandra’s family finding out about her and brasidas 😭😭 the last one you wrote was too good omg i loved it, everything you write is gold

when i saw this prompt i went “HELL YEAH I CAN!!!” thank you so much for your kind words, i’m gonna cry. I LOVE YOU GUYS

So the prompt got a little bit away from me and their reactions aren’t until the end and they’re hardly completely fleshed out, because the angst and fluff took over :P 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Alexios snorts from his spot on the floor, stretched out across from Stentor, who shakes his head angrily. Beside them, Nikolaos dozes in a chair, arms crossed and out of his armor for once and Kassandra is struck with just how old the man she called pater was now.

Snorting at Stentor’s indignant sputter toward their brother, Kassandra returns her attention to her spear, dragging the oilcloth over the metal, focusing on a tiny scratch she can never seem to buff out.

The door slams open and Myrrine rushes in, looking out of breath and wild–Alexios jumping near out of his skin, muttering a quiet “malàka!” under his breath and Nikolaos jerks awake and nearly out of the chair–gesturing at Kassandra: “Put that up, lamb! They’re back! The last ships from Amphipolis!”

An icy fist grips her heart–she’d received Hippokrates’ letter earlier in the week, she knew they were returning soon, and that Brasidas was alive when they left, but the worry seeps into her bones, that something happened on the ship. When she saw him last, he’d been broken, bloody and unconscious.

She slips the spear into its sheath on her back and stands, grappling at the sandals she’s left by the door, her fingers shaking as she ties them around her feet. Behind her, she can hear Nikolaos grunt as he stands, the confusion in Alexios’ voice as he asks where she’s going.

“The docks,” she shoots over her shoulder. “A…a friend is returning.”

Kassandra almost tells Alexios to stay there–she doubts that Brasidas would want to see him so soon after almost being killed by him, but she also doubts Alexios would listen to her, and she can head him off anyway. Myrrine touches her shoulder, turning her to look into her eyes, and wraps a himation around her shoulders, covering her old chiton.

“It’s getting chilly with the sun down,” Myrrine whispers, her fingers tight at her daughter’s arms. “Go on, we will be behind you.”

Dipping down, she drops a kiss on her mother’s cheek and tears out the door. Grabbing Phobos’ reins, she doesn’t even bother saddling him, just jumps on and takes off toward the dock. His thundering hooves match in time with her thundering heart, the rush of blood in her ears. Her lip hurts as she chews on the inside, hard enough to draw blood, her fingers waver at the reins in her hands. She’s never felt so nervous and she feels a little stupid.

Is this what love does to you? Turns you into a shaking shell of yourself? So that you feel stupid all the time because the worry and fear that something has happened since the last word you received turns your brain to mush?

Taking a deep breath, Kassandra slows as she reaches Gytheion’s harbor, slipping off of her horse as the soldiers begin to disembark from the ship. She passes the reins to a stable-hand there, barely paying attention as she presses a few drachmae into his hand, stepping toward the ship with lurching, broken steps.

The soldiers move slowly, some of them still nursing injuries, medics rushing past them to make sure they don’t hurt themselves again. She turns at a presence behind her, glancing over her shoulder to see Archidamos and his ephors standing there, ready to greet their men as they return. He nods to her when she offers a short bow, distracted by the arrival of her mater, Nikolaos and Stentor…Alexios trailing behind them, still looking confused and disgruntled as to why his sister had to be the first down here to greet these soldiers.

“Kassandra!”

She whirls at the voice, picking Hippokrates out of the crowd, his hand raised to guide her to him, the other arm reaching out to make sure the man beside him doesn’t fall or anything. Her heart climbs into her throat when she gets a good look at the man–bandages wrapping his shoulder and arm, his leg where the injury from Pylos reopened, the dark circles under his tired eyes but a smile there, blinding and just for her.

She stumbles toward him, her vision swimming as tears threaten to fall. She grabs his forearms–the safest looking place to touch–pressing her head against his, the tears spilling over her cheeks. He raises his good arm, his hand pressing to her cheek, wrapping around the back of her neck, crushing her closer, laughing softly at the sight of her.

“Kassandra,” he whispers, his beard tickling her face as he leans in close and kisses her and it is the best thing she has ever experienced–it feels like the first kiss all over again, the weight of his hand pulling her closer grounding her to this moment, the slide of his tongue against hers letting her know he’s here, and he’s real, and he’s alright.

Pulling back for air, he whispers soft affirmations of love against her lips, over and over again until she kisses him again, letting him swallow the sob that threatens to escape her.

When they pull away this time, she steps to his other side, wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady as Archidamos steps up and they exchange quiet murmurs about meeting soon to discuss the future. The elderly king hesitates for a moment and then reaches out and squeezes Brasidas’ good shoulder. “I’m glad you returned to us alive, General.”

Then Myrrine steps in and kisses Brasidas on his cheek, fussing over him as only she can. He laughs, but he leans heavily on Kassandra and she knows he’s getting tired. Hippokrates steps in, waving her away. “We need to get him home, he needs sleep–”

“He will stay with us, at least for the night.” Myrrine announces, clapping her hands together. “We will make sure he’s alright, I don’t think it’s good for him to be in that dusty house right now.”

At the house, Myrrine fusses as they help Brasidas up the stairs, settling him into Stentor’s room. She shoos Kassandra back downstairs, saying she will get her once he is settled in. “Go rest a moment, lamb,” she frowns at her daughter. “You look a mess.”

Stepping back downstairs, she’s suddenly faced with the raised eyebrows of her step-brother and father.

“You and Brasidas?” Stentor shakes his head, crosses his arms and manages to look both impressed and disgusted in the same moment. At her shrug and nod, he scoffs. “He could do much better.”

“Stentor–” Nikolaos admonishes, reaching out to squeeze Kassandra’s shoulder. “He is a lucky man, Kassandra, to share this with you.”

She blinks, taken aback by his earnest words and nods, her cheeks tingeing pink. “Thank you, Nikolaos. Where is Alexios?”

He hesitates and then nods toward the toward. “Outside, I believe.”

Thanking him again and shooting a glare at Stentor (who still looks at her like she is both amazing and awful), she slips out the door.

Outside, Alexios is pacing back and forth, dust kicking up at his feet. He freezes when he sees her, then points at her, shaking his head. “You didn’t tell me.”

Kassandra shrugs, helplessly, her hands upturned. “What purpose would it have served? I didn’t know if he would live, I didn’t want you to blame yourself if he didn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I,” he snarls at her, stepping back as she creeps closer. “You should blame me. I did that to him. He will never be a soldier for Sparta again.”

Is that such a horrible thing, she thinks and immediately regrets it. For someone like Brasidas, it just may be. She stops trying to step into Alexios’ space and shrugs again. “I’m sorry. I’ll get him back to his house tomorrow, so you won’t have to–”

“This isn’t about me!” Alexios growls, throwing his hands up at her. “You’re always so fucking careful with me, Kassandra! You should be angry! I tried to kill the man you love.”

His voice sounds disgusted at the word, as if he is too removed from such petty mortal things and a flash of anger does burn through her then and it takes all of her to not snap at him. “You’re right,” she whispers, stepping back toward the house, suddenly exhausted. “This isn’t about you. We can discuss this later.”

Walking back into the house, Kassandra bypasses her family in the andron, moving straight up the stairs into Stentor’s room, where Brasidas sits on the edge of the bed. “Does my mater know you’re sitting up?”

He grins at her, lighting his tired eyes up with joy at the sight of her. He reaches out for her and she takes his hand immediately, letting him pull her to his side. “Don’t tell her,” he murmurs, his hand stroking the side of her neck, her shoulder. He sighs, wincing in pain as he tries to move closer. “I just wanted to see you, before sleep took me.”

“I’ll be here,” she whispers, urging him to lay back, careful of his bandages and wounds. She feels adrift, wobbly and lost as she looks down at him, blinking back tears again, her next words leaving in a rush, “ Brasidas, I missed you so much, I love you–”

He strokes his thumb over her lips, drawing her down for a kiss that he deepens quickly, tongue slipping into her mouth and she relishes the taste of him–he’s alive and he’s here–that explodes on her tongue. When she pulls back, it is only because she needs to breathe, she would have kissed him for eternity if able.

“I love you, Kassandra,” his eyelids droop and he blinks them back open, making her shake her head.

“Sleep, my love,” she murmurs, coming to curl at his side, her head on his good shoulder. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

#asks #anonymous #prompts #writing #my stuff #ac odyssey #kassidas #kassandra/brasidas #brasidas x kassandra #brasidas #alexios #stentor #myrrine #nikolaos #and others #i love these prompts #soft angst

[ms-m-astrologer]

Pluto Part 1 - Who?

The intention we have made to explore Pluto transits during the mere nine days of my Thanksgiving holiday, is almost immediately laughable, and definitely daunting. The planet takes 248 years to orbit the Sun one time! If we look back over the 248 years preceding the 1940 birth of our chosen guinea pig, John Lennon, the real enormity (and futility?) of the task becomes apparent.

Subtracting 248 from 1940 gives us 1692. The most “important” thing which happened that year occurred in Colonial America, namely, the Salem Witch Trials. (I sometimes don’t believe they have ever stopped.) Mass hysteria, centered around young women! Somewhat of a theme in John’s life, correct? William III and Mary II reigned in England, and Louis XIV in France. The planet Uranus wouldn’t be “discovered” for another 89 years, Neptune’s “discovery” was 154 years off, and Pluto itself would remain hidden for another 238 years. (All those are close to the length of each planet’s orbit. Hmm.)

In classical music, there was no overarching “event” - nobody important was born, or died; nothing hugely influential or timeless was composed. J. S. Bach and G. F. Handel (the towering figures of the late Baroque era in music) both were seven year old boys. (Allow me a moment to savor the thought of them as 2nd graders, fighting on the playground at recess….)

The pre-eminent English composer of that time - and indeed, the only eminent English composer for the next 200-odd years - was Henry Purcell. In 1692 he had two premieres: The Fairy-Queen, a masque/semi-opera; and “Hail! Bright Cecilia,” a 13-movement work in honor of Catholicism’s patron saint of music. (YouTube links here and here - well worth a listen when you have a couple of hours..) Purcell himself died young, “at the height of his career” per the Wikipedia article. At age 35/36 he was even younger than John had been.

It’s overwhelming to contemplate how much “just” music evolved between 1692 and 1940, let alone everything else. Thinking of the wide world’s progress, or lack thereof, is even more terrifying. But it’s necessary so that we can (begin to) appreciate just how massive is Pluto’s meaning. This one Pluto orbit more than encompasses entirely the great era of Western art music. Heading into any classical music hall today, we’re not likely to hear any piece composed before or after that mini-aeon. From “Hail! Bright Cecilia” to Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez - or even “In the Mood” by the Glenn Miller Orchestra - whew. (And then throw in everything that’s gone on since basically the retreat of the glaciers during the last Ice Age, approximately 11,700 years ago - 248 years is just over two percent (2%) of that time.)

Pluto, then, is more of an immeasurable process rather than an active personality factor/mover/shaker. “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow/Creeps in this petty pace from day to day” as Shakespeare put it. Pluto is not really concerned with what happens from day to day in our measly lives. It doesn’t care if we get the job, or get laid. And I’m not personally convinced that one little lifetime can completely incorporate that process. Something much larger is afoot with Pluto.

The best thing I can compare the Pluto process to, is the life cycle of a butterfly, particularly the pupa stage. The chubby, cute caterpillar creates a chrysalis, aka a cocoon, which serves to protect and camouflage what’s happening inside (a la the Pluto/Scorpio “front”). And what happens inside is, basically, soup. The caterpillar’s body eats itself up from the inside out (Scorpio!), turning itself into (more or less) caterpillar soup. This soup then re-coalesces into an imago, the fully-developed and (usually) winged adult.

(Still think it’s “cute” to be a Plutonian?)

Astrologers have their own ways and words to illumine what transiting Pluto is all about. Bloch and George, in Astrology for Yourself, described a Pluto transit as “the opportunity to transform and regenerate an area of my life. In the process, existing structures may be destroyed.” That’s an adequate enough summary but doesn’t even hint at the magnitude of what happens.

In The Changing Sky, Steven Forrest (himself a Plutonian) wrote of “Pluto the Teacher” gifting us with “the ability to heal one’s soul, recovering the energy needed to find an altruistic mission in life, thereby filling one’s consciousness with a sense of ultimate purpose.” He also warned of “Pluto the Trickster” trapping us via “the temptation to allow rigidity, dogmatism, and power tripping to narrow our perspective, isolating our egos in a spirit of cynicism, despair, and nihilism. The compulsion to reenact whatever dramas have wounded us in the past.”

What I’m saying is that a Pluto transit is, in essence, a soup-making process. “Is it soup yet?” Maybe not - this could be the lifetime where (oh) three of your back left legs liquefy and dissolve, but there’s a whole bunch of caterpillar left. Evil cackle.

There’s one more factor to consider in Pluto transits - namely, the sign it occupies. Saying I have transiting Pluto entering my 3rd House is missing a crucial ingredient. Had this happened to me in 1977, when Pluto was in Libra - that would have made for a much, much different cocoon (tureen?) for the soup.

(Rant time: why do astrologers never write about the signs in transit? Why is it always “Cosmic Thingy transiting through your Nth House” and not “Cosmic Thingy in whatever sign transiting through your Nth House”? Allow me to answer my own question: because it’s too hard.)

#Astrology #Pluto #Ms M astrologer

[thesunglassesgamer]

The Talk, part 12

Hello everyone. Thanks for waiting so long. I have good news. From now on, the waits are going to be significantly shorter. I’m going to start updating this fic every other weekend, while updating There For You on the other weekends. I don’t have band anymore so there’s no excuse.

For this chapter, I wanted to round off the nighttime activities of the group and prepare for the next chapter to have some action. It also helps move the story along, as it reintroduces Toffee and his plans. For a Sunday night update, I’m fairly happy with it. I hope you enjoy, and see you on the 17th!

Please like, comment and repub, thank you.

Marco looked up the stairs that led to the second floor of his house and, eventually, to his bedroom. He sighed. Normally he wasn’t one to complain about the trivial chore of walking up a single flight of stairs, but it had been a long day. His feet ached and groaned on each step, begging him to stop. He ignored them, reminding himself through the pain that it would all be worth it when he finally got into his nice, warm, inviting bed. By the time he had reached his bedroom door, his fantasies of sleep and comfort seemed just inches away and he quickly opened his door…

…to find Toffee, immaculately dressed from head to toe in his Italian suit, sitting quietly on his bed.

Before Marco’s addled brain could process what was in front of him, Toffee’s hands shot up, one pointed at Marco in the gesture of a hand gun, then other putting a single finger on his lips. He made a light shushing noise and indicated for Marco to enter the room. Marco’s eyes had gone wide with shock and panic, but he put his hands up and went into his bedroom. He closed the door behind him with a small kick of the heel of his foot. Toffee smiled and lowered the hand pointed at Marco to make a swishing gesture and utter a short, indecipherable phrase under his breath. His hand glowed for a second, and suddenly the walls of the room, ceiling, floor, and the door Marco had just shut were covered with a sticky green substance. It smelled of tar and dead rodents.

“Wonderful,” Toffee exhaled, the smile on his face finally spreading to his eyes. He spoke in his detached business voice, but there was a hint of satisfaction lingering in it. “Now we won’t be interrupted by any distractions or 14-year-old boys screaming at the top of their lungs for help.”

Marco scowled at him. “Listen, Toffee,” his voice lacked the normal bravado that he usually tried to muster up when dealing with villainous types and monsters, “I’ve had a long day. Like, a really, really, REALLY long day.” He made a swirling motion with one of his fingers. “Can we wrap this up till tomorrow morning? Just this once?”

Toffee’s smile broadened. “But Marco, it is tomorrow morning.”

Marco closed his eyes and let out a deep groan of one part misery to two parts annoyance. “What do you want?”

Toffee maintained his absurd grin, though Marco noticed that it seemed to have tightened up a smidge. “Revenge.”

The word rolled off his tongue as if it tasted of vinegar. Marco’s adrenaline kicked in to high gear and his fatigue was replaced with the animalistic instincts of flight-or-fight. His heart started pacing and his pupils dilated. Toffee frowned at Marco, then shook his head dismissively. “No, no, you misunderstand. I have no quarrel with you, boy. You are but a pawn in this matter.” His eyes opened and Marco saw the fire burning within them, hate boiling just below the surface. “The Butterfly family has wronged me greatly, and I intend to repay the favor.”

Marco nearly gulped, but he regained control of himself and held his ground. Toffee’s promise that Marco wasn’t the target of Toffee’s wrath didn’t abate his fear; It only transformed it from a fear for his own life into that for Star’s and her family’s lives. Star was his best friend, and he both knew and respected, if not liked, her parents. The rage that Marco saw in Toffee’s eyes and his experiences with him when he’d been kidnapped screamed at him that Toffee was going to kill the Mewni royalty, if not hurt them in some other horrific way. That by itself was bad enough. And Toffee was still in the room with him. A locked room controlled by Toffee’s magic, which he now apparently had control over. For all Marco knew, Toffee could be lying and wanted to finish what he had started months ago. Or he was going to be collateral damage. Either way, he was most likely in extreme danger. That danger both frightened him and enraged him. It took him a moment to calm himself and stop from either making a run at either the door or Toffee himself.

What can I do to stop him? He thought furiously. Nothing, probably. Toffee was miles out of his league. Alright then. What can I do to slow him down? Talk to him? It might work. Toffee had never seemed like the chatterbox type, but tonight he had spent a great deal of time talking, and they hadn’t even gotten down to the specific reason he was in Marco’s room. Maybe if Marco got him talking and kept him talking, Star or Elizabeth or his parents or anyone might notice that his light was still on and decide to investigate. It was a long shot, but it was the only route he had. He swallowed his fear and rage to make the best poker face he could before saying:

“Wha- what did they do to you?” His voice came out a lot harsher and he stuttered a lot. So much for swallowing his emotions.

Toffee eyed Marco for a long 3-count. He lifted up right hand, the one missing a finger. “Do you know what sort of monster I am?”

“A butt ugly one.”

Hey, Marco mused to himself, he’d asked.

Toffee ignored the comment, the skilled teacher working with a distracted and disobedient pupil. “I am a Septarian. Lizard-folk. And as with all my brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, cousins and even more distant relatives, I have a very special ability.” He took his left arm in his right hand and, smiling while he did it, broke it at a ninety degree angle. His smile didn’t waver nor his eyes look away from Marco while he did it. Marco grimaced at the sound and had to work very hard to not look away. He had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next, but Toffee seemed to take some sick, depraved satisfaction in watching Marco become uncomfortable during the process. Creep.

As Marco had predicted, the arm began to sew itself back together. Bone, muscle, tendons and skin resewn themselves back together, restoring the arm and seemingly making it stronger during the process. “Regeneration,” Toffee mused. “Cuts, bruises, burns, explosions, magic- none of it can kill me. My body rebuilds itself, becoming stronger, faster, smarter. It has no limits on how often it can undo the stresses that normal bodies succumb to. I am, in many ways, immortal.”

Marco stared at him for a while, getting it. He pointed to the maimed, imperfect hand. “Except, you aren’t. Someone beat your defenses. They beat you.”

Toffee’s face didn’t change, but the injured hand tightened up into a ball. “Moon. A short time after I had killed her mother in order to send a message, she… retaliated. I don’t know how she did it. All I know is that it involved black magic that corrupted her hand.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand trembling.

Hot anger started to build in Marco. “You killed Star’s grandmother and you think you’re the one getting revenge? Sounds like you got what was coming to you.”

Toffee’s eyes opened, flat, staring daggers at the impudent teenager before him. “My people live in filth, poverty, starvation. They are forced to turn to petty crimes and working for imbeciles like Ludo just to scrape by. They are all treated as criminals and outcasts, and while many of them have been forced to make hard choices under the circumstances, many others have tried to stay pure despite the undeserved hate they have received.” His voice was coated with murderous hate and bitterness. “Justify that.”

Marco didn’t flinch. “I was always more of a MLK fan than Malcolm X.”

Toffee blinked. Marco stared at him for a couple seconds before slapping himself in the face. “Uh, right. Foreigner. What I mean is, Peace before War.”

“Too late,” Toffee argued. “It has been hundreds of years, thousands. Mewni is too stuck in it’s ways. And peace would not allow for the Butterfly’s to pay for what they have done. I am not the only one who has spilt blood in this conflict.”

Marco was about to fire back at him, but Toffee raised his engraved hand in a stopping gesture. He frowned at Marco, then rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “All this talking…” he muttered darkly. “Must be a side effect of overtaking Ludo.”

Marco’s face went white. He hadn’t loved the little bird brain, far from it, but… overtaken? The little guy was usually harmless, much like a child. He didn’t deserve to have been destroyed by Toffee. “What do you mean, overtaking Ludo?”

Toffee shook his head, apparently clearing his thoughts. “That’s not relevant. What is relevant is why I’m in your room right now.”

Marco stared at Toffee, refusing to give him the straight line. His plan to stall for time had, well, run out of time. No one was coming. He was screwed.

Toffee stared back, then shrugged. “Well, if you won’t ask, then I might as well just get it over with.” His hand began to glow a dark, swampish green. “Can you photosynthesize, Marco?”

Marco blinked and, before he could stop himself, shook his head.

Toffee smiled. It was filled with venom. “Really? Because you look quite like a plant to me.”

#starco #star vs evil #star vs the forces of evil #this is awkward #comes out just after the last chapter #oh well

[novocaine-sea]

Writing Request: Seung-Gil Lee has kept his eyes on Phichit Chulanont for years now. They're both about to hit 25 and at the GPF when he hears Leo de la Iglesia talk about how he's going to surprise his crush at the Four Continents Championship with a confession after his skate. Seung-Gil Lee immediately goes in to Defcon 1 mode and has precisely 10 weeks to both nail his programs and come up with a plan. ((Except he doesn't realize Leo meant GuangHong Ji.))

ELLA ILY IM SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE A MONTH

Seung Gil Lee is determined and his face is set into stone as he walks down the corridor with his hands shoved into his pockets. He recalls how at the Grand Prix Leo de la Iglesia was talking to Otabek Altin about how he was going to confess to his crush at Four Continents, which they would all be competing in. And then Phichit Chulanont had ran up to him, smiling as bright as the god damn sun, and Leo had turned red. 

Seung Gil was seeing red after that and had promptly turned around to head back onto the ice. He needed to practice if he was going to beat Leo, and if he was going to work up the nerve to confess to Phichit first.

Seung Gil had never seen himself as petty but hearing that Leo was going to confess to Phichit, who Seung Gil realized he had feelings for in that very moment, made his blood boil. 

Phichit was one of the friendliest skaters that Seung Gil knew, unfortunately. He always found his forwardness to be annoying and the way he had to talk to everybody repulsive. It reminded him a lot of Sara Crispino, the woman from Italy that he absolutely detested simply for the fact that she could not take no for an answer. He also didn’t like women much, but that was beside the fact. Phichit was always forcing Seung Gil out with them, Leo and Guang Hong Ji from China, whenever they were in the same competitions. Seung Gil was a wallflower by nature but Phichit made him interact.

He didn’t like that very much.

Until he realized that Phichit had had the same affect over somebody else. Then it was a problem.

Over the next ten weeks Seung Gil thought of nothing but his free and short programs, and Phichit. He thought of the way Phichit’s dark eyes shined with mirth no matter what he was talking about and the way he laughed with his entire body. He enjoyed how Phichit was so animated when he spoke even if he was in his face while he did so. Seung Gil loved the little hair on top of Phichit’s head that rose higher than the others. He couldn’t help but think of the way his skin compared to Phichit’s dark complexion as well.

It made him shiver and then he took off into a quadruple toe loop, landing it perfectly.

Up until five years ago, Seung Gil had been the only one to land the quadruple toe loop. And then Phichit (and JJ but Seung Gil did not compare about that egotistical asshole in the slightest) had gone and taken that title from him by using it in his free skate at his first Grand Prix. Seung Gil remembers the way he had felt a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and anger.

Excitement, because now he had real competition.

Anxiety, because his coach was going to yell at him and work him to death the next day (although he did this of his own fruition).

And anger, because he was no longer the only person who could land a quadruple toe loop; he was one of three.

Seung Gil huffs and shoves his headphones into his ears once more. He has to focus. But he can’t because Leo is passing by him, talking animatedly to Otabek Altin, who Seung Gil thought for sure had retired after the GPF but he guesses the gold there wasn’t enough. Seung Gil has no doubts that Leo is discussing how he’s going to confess to Leo and that just makes the Korean walk a little faster and with more force in his steps.

“Seung Gil~!” A voice sings behind him and he turns up his music louder to drown out the noise.

A strong arm loops around his neck and he glares into JJ’s face. “Aw, don’t be like that!”

“Off.” Seung Gil commands and when JJ doesn’t let go of him he shoves him off, proceeding to quicken his pace even more.

“Nobody likes a negative Nelly, Seung Gil! I just wanted to see how you….” JJ’s voice filters out as Seung Gil turns the corner. He needs to be alone so he can not psych himself out.

Seung Gil isn’t a planner. He doesn’t usually do things quite like this ahead of time. And by this, he means that he doesn’t confess to people. He stayed up late losing sleep in order to figure out how to be more charming than Leo de la Iglesia. 

He is positive that there is no way to be more charming than Leo, especially in order to impress Phichit.

He doesn’t really know what Phichit likes aside from hamsters and his friends. His social media is no help, as he is a menace and has hundreds of posts of various things. Including selfies he’s taken with the American skater.

Seung Gil realizes that the tightness in his chest is jealousy because maybe, just maybe, he too wants to take a selfie with Phichit. Phichit had never approached him about it, knowing how Asians could be with social media and spreading themselves. Phichit knew, at least, that Seung Gil is more reserved than the other skaters, much like Otabek Altin, who rarely uses social media. Seung Gil mostly uses his to post pictures of his dog.

Seung Gil decided over the course of 10 weeks that he is going to wing it. He is going to wing confessing to Phichit this… attraction, maybe obsession, that he has for him. When you spend all hours of the day thinking about somebody and skating for them, it’s more of an obsession.

Seung Gil spends about half a hour in this silent corridor before they are corralled onto the ice for practice. His practice time is the same time as Phichit’s (and Leo’s) and he tries to avoid him.

“Good luck today, Seung Gil!” Phichit calls as he skates back. Seung Gil just ducks his head to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. Phichit’s voice is light and filters around Seung Gil’s heart, tugging him in all the wrong directions. He almost crashes into Leo when thinking about Phichit.

“I’m so sorry!” Leo cries as he just barely misses him.

Seung Gil just scowls and skates off with renowned fervor. It feels like forever before it is time for them to skate. He doesn’t know whether or not Leo plans on confessing today after the short program or tomorrow after the free skate. Seung Gil feels as if he should do it today, but he is unsure.

Otabek skates first, then JJ, then Phichit. He is captivating on the ice, all the energy he has going into performing for every single person in the stands. Seung Gil feels as if he’s performing just for him as he stands off to the side slack jawed and in awe.

“Brilliant, right?” Leo asks beside him. Seung Gil hadn’t even heard him approach. 

Seung Gil doesn’t respond, just bends down to tie his skates. He doesn’t look at Leo again.

Leo and Phichit high five as they switch spots on the ice. Seung Gil can’t stand to watch and fiddles with his skates a bit more. It’s him next  and then it’s Guang Hong’s turn to skate. By the end of it, JJ is in first, Phichit in second, Otabek in third, Seung Gil in fourth, Leo in fifth and Guang Hong in sixth. 

Seung Gil is not happy with his placement. How is he supposed to impress Phichit if he can’t even get a higher score than him. His coach is going to comfort him but he just storms away, biting his tongue to stop himself from crying. He can’t deal with this right now.

“You were amazing.” Leo’s voice filters from one of the dead end hallways. It makes Seung Gil stop and his heart begin to pound. Leo had beaten him; he was going to confess first. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Leo goes on. “Please don’t interrupt I… I’ve been waiting a long time to say this.”

Seung Gil leans against the wall in defeat. There was no way he could beat Leo. He wasn’t charming enough nor was he fast enough.

“Aren’t they cute?” A voice whispers in Seung Gil’s ear. Seung Gil freezes. That voice… It wasn’t JJ’s this time, but.

Seung Gil looks over his shoulder into the grinning face of Phichit.

“I didn’t think you were the eavesdropping type, Seung Gil.” Phichit hums and then he looks around him into the hallway. Seung Gil looks too. And what he sees is definitely not Phichit and Leo. It’s Leo, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing nervously in front of Guang Hong Ji, who is cupping his mouth in surprise.

“It was only a matter of time.” Phichit clicks his tongue and shakes his head, beginning to walk away. “Young love!”

Phichit whistles and gives Seung Gil a wink before leaving him there. Seung Gil takes one last look at Leo and Guang Hong before rushing after him, grabbing onto the Thai skater’s wrist.

“Seung Gil?” 

“So… Leo, he….” Seung Gil casts his eyes to the other end of the hall. “It’s not you.”

Phichit blinks. “What?”

“He’s not… do you have any… interest in Leo?” Seung Gil grits out.

Phichit blinks again and then he giggles. “Hm? What’s this? You’re quite blunt, aren’t you?” Phichit runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I don’t.”

“But… he was supposed to…. I don’t understand.”

“I’m a little lost too here.”

“He didn’t confess to you?” Seung Gil finally asks.

“Um.” Phichit grins again. “As far as I know, he has never confessed to me. Only Guang Hong. Why? Jealous that he’s not confessing to you?”

“No!” Seung Gil glares and then he lets up when he sees the surprise on Phichit’s face. “I just…”

This is not how he wanted this to go. His mind is spinning and he doesn’t have any coherent thoughts in his mind. But he knows what he has to do now and it can’t wait until after the free skate. 

So, he steals a little trick from Leo’s book.

“I… liked your short program.” Seung Gil confesses, switching gears.

“Thank you!” Phichit smiles, unsuspecting. “Yours was really great too. There’s a story there. I can tell you worked hard.”

“I… did it for you.” Seung Gil mumbles. He looks down at his sneakers.

Phichit is silent for a moment and Seung Gil realizes he is still holding onto Phichit’s wrist. He lets go. 

“For me?”

“I wanted to impress you because… because….” Seung Gil furrows his thick eyebrows, trying to form the right thoughts. “I…”

Phichit covers his mouth and laughs again. “Are you trying to ask me out or something?”

Seung Gil turns his head and scowls. Phichit is making fun of him now, perfect.

He feels hot breath on his cheeks and his skin ignites as Phichit whispers in his ear. “Meet me at the Italian restaurant down the street from the hotel at seven tonight. You should get yourself together by then.” Then he kisses his cheek, just a peck, and is walking down the hall with a little spring in his step.

Seung Gil is left feeling confused and satisfied, because he thinks he has a date with the one he’s longed for for ten weeks and even before.

#seungchuchu #seung gil lee #phichit chulanont #leo de la iglesia #seung gil #phichit #leo #yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #aja writes

[ierosolymitissa-blog]

TWO KINDS OF HOPE [by Vladimir Moss]

Written by Vladimir Moss

TWO KINDS OF HOPE

    This year, 2016/17, the feast of the Holy Ancestors of Christ, the Sunday before Nativity, coincides with New Year’s Day in the West. This coincidence gives food for thought about a quality that both feasts, both the holy and the secular, express. That quality is hope, the second of the holy trinity of virtues, faith, hope and love, and the one that is spoken and written about least.

Just as there is true faith and false faith, and true love and false love, so there is true hope and false hope. True hope is based on reality: false hope defies reality. The hope of the Ancestors of Christ was based on the promise of the Messiah, the Redeemer of the world. Being based on reality, on the promises of the Truth Himself, it was duly fulfilled in the birth of the Redeemer on Christmas Day, which brings ineffable joy not only to the Ancestors of Christ, but also to all those that believe in Him and honour them. The first of those ancestors, who comes at the head of the genealogy in today’s Gospel from Matthew, is Abraham, of whom the Lord said: “Your father Abraham rejoiced to see My Day, and he saw it and was glad” (John 8.56). That is, he was filled with hope; and since that hope was true, and was based on the reality of God’s promise, he rejoiced with a true and boundless joy even before it was fulfilled.

The hope of the New Year revellers, however, is a vain hope, being based on a lie. That lie is the idea that this, new year will be better than the old one, that it will bring joy where the last year brought woe. Is there any reason to believe that? None at all. We don’t have to have the gift of prophecy to see that the world is hurtling down a path that leads to unprecedented global disaster, and that none of the wise men of this world have any idea how to avert it.

 But let us suppose that my doomsaying is wrong, and that 2017 turns out to be fractionally better in some respects than 2016. Is that really a cause for joy? Is that really the fulfillment of hope?      In no way, because every new year, every new day, brings us closer to the old enemy that is ever new – death. As that grim realist, Macbeth, said: 

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death.

So what is the use of celebrating another tomorrow, which may or may not bring some minor alleviation in our present woe, but only brings us closer to dusty death?

Our civilization is characterized by its faith in “dusty death”. Our wise men believe that we all came out of a tiny mass of superheated dust some 14 billion years ago, and that we are all destined to return to that dust – which by that time will have cooled down to some infinitesimally low temperature. For them, there is no God, no immortal soul, no hope, only dust – which came, God only knows where from.

But it is contrary to human nature that is formed in God’s image to live without hope. And so modern man supplements his hopeless faith in dust and death by living it up for one fleeting moment in the year. Midnight strikes, the corks pop and the champagne fizzes. “Eat, drink and merry, for tomorrow we die!” Let us hope against hope! Our faith tells us that there is no hope. But let us hope nevertheless, for without hope we will die!

It is strange that midnight should be the hour of rejoicing. It is at midnight that the thief comes, catching the foolish sleeping in their beds. “The Bridegroom comes in the middle of the night…” But today’s revelers have lost all lost all knowledge of Christian symbolism, and all fear of the reality behind the symbols. Just as their vain hope contradicts their false faith, so they choose to cast off all inhibitions at just the moment when the Church tells us to watch and pray…

There is a Christian couple whose feast we celebrate today – the Holy Martyr Boniface and Righteous Aglais of Rome. She was rich (he was one of her slaves), and they lived in sin. But they also believed in Christ, and one day Aglais ordered Boniface to go to the East, where Christians were being martyred for the faith, and buy some bodies of the martyrs and bring them back to Rome for her to venerate. As Boniface was preparing to set out on his journey, he said to his mistress: “My lady, what if I cannot find a martyr such as you desire? What if my companies return to you my body after it has been tortured for Christ?” He was speaking in jest, but God listened to his words with seriousness and decided to bring them to pass. Boniface went to the East, was tortured and martyred for the faith, and his body was brought back to his mistress as holy relics. She built a chapel over his body and reformed her life. “Her remains,” writes St. Demetrius of Rostov, “were laid to rest beside those of the holy martyr Boniface, and thus the saints were united forever. Having undergone a wondrous transformation of life, they were both granted a blessed repose: the sins of one were washed away with his blood; the other was cleansed of defilement by her tears and asceticism.”[1

It is surely no coincidence that the Church chants hymns to these saints on the very day that countless revelers are returning from their New Year celebrations, having defiled their souls and bodies with drunkenness and lust. There is hope even for the hopeless, the believers in dust. And even those who party when midnight strikes can return to God before the Midnight of the whole world descends, through the prayers of Saints Boniface and Aglais!

But for that they must cast off their false faith and hope and acquire the true faith and hope of the Ancestors of Christ. Many hundreds of years before the Coming of Christ Abraham believed in Him, hoped in Him and rejoiced in spirit. There was nothing around him to confirm that hope; the whole world was sunk in paganism; he had only the word of God to sustain him. Nor did any of the later Ancestors of Christ have anything outside them to fill them with hope. As the great day prophesied by the Prophets of God drew closer, the world grew still more frenzied in debauchery and faithlessness. Even the people of Israel, God’s chosen people, were losing faith in their calling and hope in their coming Messiah. Only a tiny remnant of true believers was left. But the night is darkest just before the dawn. And it was at that point that the Sun of righteousness, the Dayspring from on high, arose in the heart of the humble Virgin, the daughter of Abraham, the father of the faithful.

We are in a not dissimilar situation today. As they waited for the First Coming of Christ, so we wait for the Second while the flock of the True People of God grows ever smaller. And around us, too, is a thick darkness of unbelief and hopelessness. But there is a major difference between us and the Old Testament righteous. While they had only the word of God to sustain them, we have both the word of God and the sight of their immense patience, their endurance to the end – not to mention two thousand years of Christian sanctity.

So let us honour all the Ancestors of Christ who created that life-giving chain that linked mankind spiritually and bodily to the Incarnate God, who refused to lose faith and hope in Him when all those around them were in the darkness of false faith and hope. Although we live in a similar age of hopelessness, their podvig is far greater than ours, for we have seen the fulfillment of their hope. For we have seen that Christ is born, and together with them we cry out: “Glorify Him!”

December 19 / January 1 2016/17.

Holy Martyr Boniface and Righteous Aglais.[1] St.

Demetrius, The Great Collection of the Lives of the Saints, volume IV: December, p. 363.

Source: Vladimir Moss

#god #religion #church #cross #hope

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Mercury enters Gemini

June 6 - 21, 2017

It’s fitting that Mercury will lickety-split through its own sign, Gemini, in a mere 16 days. Mercury here dazzles. People born with Mercury in Gemini just hate the three dreaded words, “Show your work.” Ms M, taking notes in a Geometry class, was reprimanded by the teacher for not using equal signs in her personal notes. She retorted, “I already know they’re equal - writing in the symbol takes too long!” (Rest assured that the notes she turned over to the actual student were both neat and thorough.)

So many astrologers look at Mercury in Gemini, the sign of its rulership, and make it seem like a bad thing. Nonsense. The default setting for learning style is at “haphazard and scattershot,” I grant you, but Mercury in Gemini is too clever not to add (eventually) some discipline to its approach. It’s on a desperate, ceaseless quest for Information, ALL the Information.

The thinking process is (again) faster than “show your work.” The lumps of apparently disparate information serve us well, in that we can find valid parallels and relationships like no other sign. The brain is one big relational database.

As for communication style - well, in 1990, Paul McCartney received a lifetime achievement award from the Grammys. His acceptance speech was pure, unadulterated Mercury in Gemini: he fidgeted. He shifted his weight back and forth between both feet. He used two separate speaking voices, one for plain speech and a different one for asides. It was a glorious thing to behold, and I was howling with laughter. (John Lennon also pointed out the flaws of Mercury/Gemini communication, as exhibited in some of Paul’s songwriting - glib, relying too much on pyrotechnics and not enough on the heart.)

We’re still in the Promethean-Direct phase of Mercury. At this point, the Gemini ingress, we’re ready to expand exponentially on the Taurean back-to-basics approach. How high and how wide can we fly? Mercury here is more about breadth of information, not necessarily DOING anything with it (yet), but certainly ready, willing, and able to add to its storage capacity. The one thing that can help Mercury here is a sense of direction, of what specific things it needs to gobble up and assimilate. Ideally it is related back to the goal(s) set during the Inferior Conjunction (0:20 Taurus), so keep that house position in mind.

Keep in mind, too, that none of the following aspects will last for a long time - half a day, at the most. Some of them will lead into one another, and I’ve chunked those delineations together.

Celebrities with Mercury in Gemini: Angelina Jolie, Marilyn Monroe, 14th Dalai Lama, Prince, Meryl Streep, Che Guevara, Paul McCartney, Audrey Hepburn, Adele, Tupac, Dave Gahan, Rafael Nadal, Nikola Tesla, Bob Dylan, Russell Brand, George Michael, 50 Cent, Cate Blanchett, Liam Neeson, Hugh Laurie, Franz Kafka, Jack White, Helena Bonham Carter, George Sand, Joan Rivers, Karl Marx, Anne Frank, Ice Cube, Ms M.

Tuesday, June 13, Jupiter/Libra trine Mercury/Gemini, 13:14; Neptune/Pisces square Mercury/Gemini, 14:15; Wednesday, June 14, Vesta/Leo sextile Mercury/Gemini, 15:35

Both those “giants” are stationary! Jupiter turns direct on June 9, and Neptune turns retrograde on June 16. It’s definitely the time and place where we are literally overwhelmed with possibilities. Lean on that sextile to Vesta to help sort through them.

Planets/Points affected lie between 12:14 and 16:35 of the signs Aries, Gemini, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Sagittarius, Aquarius, and Pisces; and between 28:15 and 29:59 of the cardinal signs Aries*, Cancer*, Libra*, and Capricorn*.

Friday, June 16, Ceres/Gemini conjunct Mercury/Gemini, 20:04

What kind(s) of things do we need to do to nurture our minds? (Ms M adores logic puzzles.) Given what else is happening today (Neptune Rx, Moon/Pisces square this conjunction) imagination and idealization have some “say” in how we use this energy. The overall goal, though, should be conducive to improving how we Input ---> Process ---> Output; I don’t think having one particular, well-defined goal will have much staying power.

Planets/Points affected lie between 19:04 and 21:04 of the signs Aries, Gemini, Leo, Virgo*, Libra, Sagittarius*, Aquarius, and Pisces*.

Sunday, June 18, Eris/Aries sextile Mercury/Gemini, 23:47; Saturn Rx/Sagittarius opposite Mercury/Gemini, 24:15

Sagittarius can be judgmental, and the Geminian response to that is (usually) prevarication and evasion. Eris in the picture, though, might encourage some open defiance on Mercury’s part. She may also influence Mercury into seeing “judgmental” when it isn’t really there, and refusing Saturn’s help, though. We need to learn how to tell the difference. In other words, “constructive criticism” won’t work today!

Planets/Points affected lie between 22:47 and 25:15 of the yang signs Aries, Gemini(, Leo, Virgo*, Libra, Sagittarius*, Aquarius, and Pisces*; and between 8:15 and 10:15 of the fixed signs Taurus*, Leo*, Scorpio*, and Aquarius*.

Monday, June 19, North Node/Leo sextile Mercury/Gemini, 27:12; South Node/Aquarius trine Mercury/Gemini, 27:12; Tuesday, June 20, Uranus/Aries sextile Mercury/Gemini, 27:45; Pallas/Aries sextile Mercury/Gemini, 27:55

These all mature in the space of about 8 ½ hours. If we’ve taken good advantage of Mercury’s time in Gemini, we may find “the” inspiration and/or “the” reason for channeling this particular Mercury cycle’s purpose and intention. Also interesting is that Pallas will have entered its retrograde zone before this all goes down, and it’s the aspect pattern that “sets up” her RZ mission. Mercury is winding up its “Promethean” phase - the Superior Conjunction is about 26 hours off.

Planets/Points affected lie between 26:12 and 28:55 of the yang signs Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius.

Tuesday, June 20, Chiron/Pisces square Mercury/Gemini, 28:49

Whatever that “giant inspiration” was - we aren’t there yet. This square may trick us into feeling that it’s hopeless, a lost cause. We’re worried. Much of the “issue” may be based on our forgetting that the whole intent of this cycle is to keep things simple - we know we can’t jump instantly from “A-B-C” to “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow / Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,” but we may think we have to be able to do that. Hang in there; illumination is upon us!

Planets/Points affected lie between 27:49 and 29:49 of the mutable signs Gemini*, Virgo*, Sagittarius*, and Pisces*; and between 12:49 and 14:49 of the fixed signs aurus*, Leo*, Scorpio*, and Aquarius*.

#Astrology #Transiting Mercury into Gemini #Ms M astrologer