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sonarspace · 7 days

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sweet syrup, satoru gojo

synopsis: emotions are all over the place when fwb!gojo stands you up… for another girl? content: fluff (kinda). smut (food play, fem!receiving, orgasm, unprotected sex) wc: 3.1k a/n: another fic within 24hrs to make up for my absence :). (not proofread!). this is a result of listening to sesame syrup by cigarettes after sex on repeat.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

your phone chimes with a text from satoru “are you free this week? i’m coming to your city”. to which you reply almost instantly. “yeah, i can make some time.”

he texts back: “no need to cancel any plans. i can work around it. just wanna spend some time with you while i’m here.” making your heart flip.

“i have an event to attend tonight, but can i come over sometime between 2 and 3?” he sends another text.

it’s not really like you had much going on in the week so you decided to say yes. to which he sends a winky face and a see you soon.

it’s almost 2am when you’re done getting ready. it has been a while since you’ve seen each other and while satoru has seen you in all your rawness. you figured it wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit.

you decide to wear an ocean blue lingerie set (his favorite color) and a sheer white dress over it, leaving nothing to imagination. you hope you can catch him off guard with this look.

you look at the clock and it’s already 2:30am. you decide to send him a text to confirm he’s going to come up or not. it’s not like satoru to stand you up especially on a plan he’s made.

“are we still good for tonight?” you text. but no reply comes through. he did say 3am didn’t he, you think to yourself. maybe he’ll be there by then. you sigh and decide to put on a movie.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a bit longer past 3. but you regret that decision as you are watching instagram stories and see a pic of none other than, satoru gojo in all his glory at the party he said he’d be. an angry pout takes over your lips.

what gets you isn’t the fact that he may still be at the party but who he is with. some model’s lips are pressed to his cheeks – hand hovering over her back and his stupid people winning grin plastered on his face.

posted 20 minutes ago. you inhale deeply, trying to keep the tears at bay. you didn’t even know why you were hurt. after all you were just fuck buddies and nothing more. you suppose it was the anger making you cry.

feeling stupid at even trying to dress him for him, streaks of black mascara run down your face. you look at yourself in the mirror and take a deep breath, willing yourself to not cry over some rich fucker.

you wipe your make up and change into a pair of sweatpants and lay back down on the couch. continuing your show trying to distract yourself from the indirect rejection you felt.

but your mind kept going back to him. why would he wanna be with you when he can get all those pretty girls with their perfect bodies. girls who could probably make him feel far better than you do.

you were stupid to think there was something going in between the two of you. as soon as that thought crosses your mind a text chimes. “baby, i’m so sorry. almost there. 5 minutes.”

you scoff at the nickname ‘baby’ huh. “don’t bother. i’m going to sleep.” but you don’t get a reply back. instead what you get is loud repetition of knocks on your apartment door followed by your name.

he waits a beat and then continues knocking. “not leaving until you open the door” he texts you. out of compassion for your neighbors, you open the door. his hand stops mid knock as you gesture him to get in.

"i'm really sorry, i swear i didn't mean to keep you waiting for so long." he starts rambling and you look at him with a plain stare and arms crossed to let him know you're not having his bullshit — you already know he has other priorities.

"i lost track of time and i left the party as soon as i realized. my phone was dead, so i couldn't even text you. i just charged it on the way here. darling, you know i'd never keep you waiting," he moves closer to grab your hands and you let him.

you gulp hard trying to not cry. he reaches to touch your face but you jerk your head away. "don't gojo." the change stings him and you see a look of hurt pass over his face. "please" he drags out the syllable. "okay," you tell him and he almost smiles but you reach out and wipe the lipstick mark off his cheek bringing it up to his eyes "what's this then?"

he narrows his eyes at your thumb in thought, "it's nothing, i swear. she kissed my cheek out of nowhere and they took the photo and i moved away from her just as fast." and you scoff in disbelief, "you just have an answer for everything, don't you gojo."

he groans “just give me a minute,” and pulls out his phone — going through his texts to show the photos of him taken throughout the night. out of habit you take in his appearance. he looks unbelievably sexy in an all black outfit, a sheer black tank and a black overcoat with matching suit pants. you're immediately reminded of your white dress that you had picked earlier and think how perfectly it’d match his outfit. a tear involuntarily escapes your eye.

you wipe it casually before he can notice. he pulls up the photo probably going around on social media at the moment and then the one of him moving away from the lady, "see!" he exclaims. and you sigh, "what do you want me to say gojo?"

"first off, don't call me gojo. secondly, forgive me. it was an honest mistake, you know i'd never do it on purpose. and lastly, i've missed you so so much baby," he drops his forehead to yours and you don't pull away. cause you've missed him just the same.

"go home," you whisper to him. "can't." he replies in the same manner. "it's too late and i didn't get my car. let me stay. let me make it up to you."

you pull away from him and turn towards your bedroom. he lets out a sigh of relief thinking maybe you were giving him a second chance but his shoulders deflate just as quick when you say, "you can take the guest room."

and so he does. he'd take any chance to be close to you since his job makes it hard for him to stay around you for long periods of time. so whenever he comes to this city, he'd prefers to stay with you rather than at a hotel.

and although your relationship and feelings for each other were hidden under the title of "fuck buddies" you both knew it was more than that. both of you went exclusive as soon as you started sleeping with each other. hell you don't think you could find anyone who would fuck you as good as satoru does. and he doesn't even want to try because the way your pussy makes him feel is other worldly.

he gets out of the shower and opts to wear just his boxers and lays comfortably at the thought of making it up to you in the morning. meanwhile you twist and turn trying to find a position to sleep, wondering if you should give in or keep it up so he knows what he did was wrong.

you wake up to the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen and smile when you remember satoru stayed over last night. albeit not with you but still. your jaw drops slightly when you walk out and see him standing by the stove in nothing but his boxers. the early morning light accentuating the dips and curves of his muscles.

"satoru!" you shriek covering your eyes. "oh, good morning baby. why are you hiding your face?" he asks as if he isn't standing there with his dick in your face. "why are you naked?! put something on!" you exclaim. "ahh, nothing you haven't seen before princess. plus i’m not naked. I’m wearing boxers!” he grins and then adds on “can't exactly wear those clothes when i'm cookin breakfast. it's uncomfortable."

"ugh," you say out loud and march back into your room. you come out with a pair of his sweatpants and throw it to him from across the counter. "wear these!"

"whatever you want baby," he pulls them on and they rest sinfully on his hips – almost teasing you and your cheeks flush. “can you taste this for me?” he asks and you walk around the counter to stand next to him as he pushes a spoonful of syrup towards you.

your eyes flutter close and you hum at the sweet taste. “this is really good,” you smile softly. “thanks. it’s for the french toast. i just put it in the oven to keep it warm. thought you’d be asleep for a little longer.” you beam at the mention of french toast, they were your favorite. “nutella?” you ask and he nods with a mesmerizing smile “just the way you like it, sweets.”

you both gaze at each other with a soft smile. “can i have another spoon?” you meek. you accidentally let a little bit of it dribble down your chin. “oh shit,” you’re about to wipe it off but satoru holds your hand and pulls you in closer.

you feel his tongue leave a wet trail behind as he licks the dripping syrup from your chin to the corner of your mouth. your breath hitches at the sensation. he pulls back and looks at you with smirk.

before he can take too much pride in catching you off guard, you surprise him by clashing your lips to his. he bucks backward and steadies himself with a grip on your waist.

his heart picks up a beat at finally feeling your plush lips on his. tasting the remnants of syrup still sticking to your lips. your kiss felt transcendental to him. like the only way to stay alive was the air that passed through your mouth to his. and he rejoiced at that. he’d be willing to live with you as his source of oxygen.

gaining back some composure he pushes you back and places you on the counter. you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in further. his tongue tries to find its way into your mouth but you don’t budge. instead you giggle into the kiss and he takes it as an indication to kiss your teeth.

his lips move over your jaw, lightly nipping at the skin at the space under your ear. his tongue pokes out and traces your ear lobe once, twice and then he nibs down on the cartilage playfully with a whine of your name. the oven’s beeping brings you both out of the love lust trance you’re in.

he huffs and moves back to turn off the oven while you turn off the stove and grab another spoon of syrup. he turns back to see you leaning back on an arm and kicking your feet – dropping the sticky syrup over your clothed perked nipples. the lack of a bra evident. “oops” you pout, feigning innocence.

his breath seizes at the scene unfolding in front of him. he licks his lips once and then without wasting any more time, his mouth moves over your chest. licking the syrup off your shirt and in the process stimulating your nipples just like you hoped. he pulls off your shirt and throws it behind somewhere behind but before he can go further you stop him “wait!”.

“not in the kitchen,” you speak timidly – a flush creeping up your neck at his lustful stare. pressure builds in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you and you squeeze your thighs for a bit of friction.

“where?” he asks as he picks you up. “anywhere but the kitchen,” you whisper into the skin of his neck as you place a chaste kiss. and then he’s dropping down to his knees with you. laying you on the wooden floor of your living room

he leaves you on the floor for a beat and then comes back with the pot filled with syrup. he peels of your sweatpants along with your soaked panties. “lay still,” he tells you and you straighten out your legs and arms.

using you as his canvas he grabs the pot of syrup and tilts it over your body. creating a pattern of syrup on your naked body. he places the pot back on the counter and admires his work. a thoughtful grin on his face as he makes eye contact with you. “can i take a photo of you?” he asks and you nod without a second thought. he grabs your phone and snaps a pic. this image of yours would be imprinted in his mind forever and more.

“look at how beautiful you look,” and surely you do. sprawled out over the wooden floors of your apartment with a sticky substance covering your body. but that’s not all. the sun shines through the curtains, casting your body in an ethereal light and a ring of light on your head acting as a halo. “just like an angel. my angel. aren’t you baby?” he asks for confirmation.

and maybe it’s too early to say but you do anyway. “only yours, satoru. always yours,” you utter the words he’s been waiting for – well he feels like his whole life but in reality it’s only been three months since you two started this relationship.

the intensity of his gaze has a shiver run over your body and you can feel goosebumps erupt across your skin. he moves on top of you. taking his time with your body. licking over and over until he cleans the syrup. you almost feel like you’re not breathing as his mouth moves over your neck, collarbones, chest, stomach – lapping and littering your skin with love bites.

before moving further down he gives you a deep kiss and you can taste the sweetness of the syrup on his tongue as it tangles with yours. but it’s so incredibly satoru, to be tasting this sweet you can’t help but suck his tongue a little.

finally he spreads your thighs and makes himself at home. licking a quick stripe to test your wetness. there’s so much arousal it has him wondering if you already came. your nubs a shade darker, almost angry at being away from him for so long. he coos at your pussy as it was a separate being. “you missed me, didn’t you?” a peck to your clit. “i missed you too, but your mommy was tryna keep us apart.” you can’t help but laugh at the endearing silliness of him speaking to your pussy. faking a gasp he whispers “i know! it’s okay. going to take such good care of you now,” this time he looks at you.

his tongue moves over your bundle of nerves pressing down on your nub stimulating it just the right amount and plunging a finger into your cunt. his eyes flutter close at your taste. “nothing comes close to your sweetness, darling” he groans. your hands tangle in his head as he continues sucking your clit. you moan his name “ha ha ‘m so close toru.” so he speeds up his pace – licking ferociously, wanting you to reach your high quicker.

you come with a scream of his name. eyes shut and fingers tugging his hair but he has no complaints. he loved the sting when you tugged his hair like this – when you were too fucked out to even realize you were doing it.

he frees his cock and he feels like he can breath a bit better now. his hardened cock turns impossibly harder when you reach a hand down and pump it a few times and he watches in awe. pre cum lathering his length.

“you doing okay?” he asks you from above aligning himself but not pushing in. “yeah,” you hum but you’re lost in thought. about last night. but satoru notices everything. he squeezes your cheeks so you look at him. “what’s wrong?” genuinely concerned.

“i was hurt last night when you didn’t show up on time. and i didn’t understand why i was so hurt because it’s not like we’re dating or anything. but seeing that pic of you, out with those people hurt. cause i was here waiting for you, wanting to surprise you with a dress i bought, that i thought you’d like. but that doesn’t matter. what i’m trying to say is that this is more than just sex for me satoru. i really really like you. i want more of you. more of this. more of us.” you confess all that you’ve held in since this past few weeks of being apart from him.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, reeling in your confession. you feel like you’ve ruined whatever you had going on. “satoru, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” in fact it wasn’t. you’d be heartbroken if he didn’t feel the same way. “you don’t have to say anything. i just, i-“ you’re about to continue but he cuts you off with a hard kiss. “i do too. all that you said. i too, want more of you, more of this, more of us. it’s more than just sex for me too, baby. has been for a while. i’m really sorry about last night. wear that dress for me tonight, please.” he pleads. “i’ll cook you a nice dinner and we can have our first date as an official couple. what’d you say?” he smiles softly.

your heart clenches at overwhelming emotions and tears line your eyes as you repeat yes over and over again until he’s kissing you and drinking the love out of you.

he carries you over to your bedroom and lays beside you. he grabs your leg and places it over his hip, lining his cock with your cunt. slowly he pushes into you. you both moan in unison. him at the feeling of your snug walls and you at the feeling of his cock stretching you apart.

your foreheads touch as you maintain eye contact. he thrusts into you ever so lovingly. languid and hard thrusts. as if you both had all the time in the world.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

a/n: idk how i feel abt this 💔😭 but i hope you liked it. comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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fearlessinger · 2 years

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Time to address the Halcyon Green-shaped elephant in the room aka let me explain to you why I think it’s canon even though it seems like it should not be aka another installment of Tinfoilhatting With Fsinger

I’m really sorry I could not think of a better title. Hope you’re intrigued enough to follow me in this journey anyway.

So. The thing is.

The Halcyon story, taken as it is, does not gel with TOA at all.

And not because it’s OOC for Apollo to have done what Halcyon says he’s done to him… Although I think it is. I think an argument can and should be made – and has been made by @flightfoot before – that this story, taken as it is, is essentially… incompatible with Apollo’s characterization in every other scrap of the RRverse he appears in. (This story, and also the Harpocrates story, which I won’t examine here because it deserves its own post. For now I’ll just say it’s interesting to note that it’s the two additions to Apollo’s background that Rick invented out of whole cloth that share this peculiarity, and I don’t think it’s by mistake).

But whether the Halcyon story breaks the internal consistency of Apollo’s characterization or not is a matter of secondary importance in the face of the fact that the Halcyon story breaks the internal consistency of the TOA narrative as a whole.

Take this excerpt from The Diary Of Luke Castellan:

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

Halcyon shrugged listlessly. The monster spoke for him: “I have lost count. Decades? Because my father is the god of oracles, I was born with the curse of seeing the future. Apollo warned me to keep quiet. He told me I should never share what I saw because it would anger the gods. But many years ago…I simply had to speak. I met a young girl who was destined to die in an accident. I saved her life by telling her the future.”

I tried to focus on the old man, but it was hard not to look at the monster’s mouth—those black lips, the slavering bone-plated jaws.

“I don’t get it…” I forced myself to meet Halcyon’s eyes. “You did something good. Why would that anger the gods?”

“They don’t like mortals meddling with fate,” the leucrota said. “My father cursed me. He forced me to wear these clothes, the skin of Python, who once guarded the Oracle of Delphi, as a reminder that I was not an oracle. He took away my voice and locked me in this mansion, my boyhood home. Then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me. Normally, leucrotae only mimic human speech, but these are linked to my thoughts. They speak for me. They keep me alive as bait, to lure other demigods. It was Apollo’s way of reminding me, forever, that my voice would only lead others to their doom.”

An angry coppery taste filled my mouth. I already knew the gods could be cruel. My deadbeat dad had ignored me for fourteen years. But Halcyon Green’s curse was just plain wrong. It was evil.

Now think back on all the times Apollo compares Nero to Zeus or even Kronos, and all the times he does not include himself too as a term of comparison.

Remember how Apollo equated Nero warning Meg her disobedience would “make him unleash the Beast” to Zeus warning his children to not “get on the wrong side of my lightning bolts”, rightfully recognizing that they are the exact same kind of manipulative abdication to personal responsibility + shifting of the blame onto the injured party that’s a staple of the classic abuser’s playbook? Well, at the same time as he noted that, he was omitting to add that he himself had threatened Halcyon in an almost identical manner, telling his son that to disobey him would “anger the gods”.

And not only was Apollo omitting that, he was explicitly equating himself to Lu instead. Lu, who, yes, was a cog in the abusive machine that kept Meg trapped, but was so against her own wishes, because she really had no other choice, no better options. Lu, who only ever tried to help Meg survive. Who jumped at the chance to help set Meg free as soon as it was offered to her, even knowing that Meg’s freedom would likely come at the cost of her own life.

Remember how Apollo mentally tuned out Nero’s villain monologue right in the middle of the ‘Top 100 Times Apollo Has Failed As A Parent’ section, ensuring that we, the readers, would not risk learning about Halcyon even in this manner?

Because Apollo is the narrator of TOA. He’s the one who chooses what to let us know, and what information he wants to withhold from us.

Bearing this in mind, doesn’t the thought that he’d purposely choose to bury the Halcyon story fill you with rage? It sure has that effect on me! :))) (Yes, those are angry smiles in case you couldn’t tell.)

It’s painfully clear, right from the very beginning of THO, that Apollo’s not oblivious to the nature and mechanics of abuse. Especially abuse perpetrated by parents on their children. He knows exactly what that is and how it works. He calls it by name. He explains it to us and to Meg, repeatedly. He points fingers. At several people.

Never at himself.

Oh, he easily admits to being a “terrible father”. He expresses regret and apologizes for it multiple times. But the implication, all through the 5 books that make up the TOA series, is that he’s guilty of neglect, not of active abuse.

And we know, even though Apollo never even tries to defend himself, that the neglect is not really a free choice on his part. He DOES want to be there for his children. But he can’t. He’s not allowed to. The laws of non interference forbid it, and the consequences of disobeying Olympus’s laws… well the whole series is an example of how dire they can be.

‘Hey, if we don’t get out of this –’

‘None of that talk,’ I chided.

‘Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I’m glad we had some time together. Like … time time.’

His words warmed me even more than Paul Blofis’s lasagne.

I knew what he meant. While I’d been Lester Papadopoulos, I hadn’t spent much time with Austin, or any of the people I’d stayed with, really, but it had been more than we’d ever spent together when I was a god. [...]

I was tempted to promise we’d do this more often if we survived, but I’d learned that promises are precious. If you’re not absolutely sure you can keep them, you should never make them [...].

So despite how much he wants to – and we know how much he wants to because he tells us, because by the end of the series he’s not hiding it anymore – Apollo can’t promise Austin that they’ll spend more time together, even if they both survive. The uncertainty has nothing to do with the fact that they are currently facing death. Apollo makes it crystal clear.

Right after his triumphant return on Olympus, where he’s welcomed with full honors, he still doesn’t dare state plainly his desire to go back to visit his children and all the mortals who have helped him along the way. “I’ll visit some old friends,” he says, fully knowing how that will be interpreted, and silently accepts Dionysus’ contribution in muddying the waters even further.

I don’t say this to absolve him. It’s right of Apollo to acknowledge that he’s failed his children. That he should have tried more, and harder, to be there for them anyway. That he must try more and harder NOW. And he does.

But none of the above addresses the Halcyon situation at all. The Halcyon situation is simply not the same.

The closest the TOA narrative ever gets to forcing Apollo to tackle a comparable sort of issue is when it introduces Trophonius, the only other son of Apollo whom we see harbor any kind of resentment toward his father… but even in Trophonius’ case, Apollo is guilty of inaction, not of taking active, violent action against his son.

Granted, there’s good reason to suspect that in Trophonius’s time the rules against divine intervention weren’t yet as strict as they are in the modern age, so Apollo does not have that excuse for his inaction there. And Apollo himself admits there was some sort of punitive intent on his part: he felt Trophonius “deserved to face the consequences” of his bad choices. But even considering all this… the Trophonius situation and the Halcyon situation are still light years apart in their substance.

Trophonius used the talent and the opportunities to make it shine that he’d gotten from his father (we can certainly add nepotism to the list of Apollo’s crimes) to fraud and rob his clients, and was left to deal on his own with the fallout of being discovered.

Halcyon was admonished by Apollo to never use the talent he’d inherited, and chose to disregard that admonition to save the life of a little girl. Something which by the way had zero negative consequences that we know of. For this, Apollo personally took it upon himself to actively punish him, by walling him up in his own house and cursing him to become the twisted instrument of death of countless innocent children for the rest of his days.

The two above things… are not the same.

One might even say the two above things stand in contradiction one with the other, but again that’s not the argument I’m making right now. My point is Apollo’s regret for refusing to help Trophonius and Agamethus can’t even begin to cover what Apollo did to Halcyon.

There is nothing in the whole of TOA that can be construed as even just… a viable proxy to at the very least obliquely address the Halcyon story, and what it implies about Apollo as a god, as a person, and as a parent.

And no, Apollo’s memory problems aren’t a good enough excuse for sidestepping this reckoning, because

that only works if we assume the Halcyon story is a single isolated incident and not representative of a pattern of behavior on Apollo’s part… which brings us right back to the idea that it’s actually OOC for Apollo to have done what Halcyon says he’s done to him. And

at the end of the series Apollo gets all of his godly brain power back. And what happens then? He condemns one final, definitive time Zeus’s and Nero’s treatment of their children without even so much as hinting that he himself has been guilty of exactly the same behavior in the past. Not even the distant past, but a few decades ago at most!

Again I ask: doesn’t that fill you with rage? :))

And yet the narrative contract here explicitly requires us to buy into Apollo’s honesty of intentions. No, there is no guarantee that he will manage to keep his promises. There is no guarantee that from now on he will do everything right either. But we are supposed to at least believe that he WANTS to. At the end of the series, Apollo literally asks us to put our faith and trust in him.

But how can we do that in the face of him choosing to never come clean about the Halcyon thing?

We can’t.

So. Where am I going with this? Am I arguing that the novella should be expunged from canon after all?

No, as stated in the title, I am not. There is a very simple way to reconcile the Halcyon novella with the story that is told in TOA, the Apollo that we hear about in the Halcyon novella with the Apollo we got to know in the 5 books that star him as both protagonist and narrator. All we need to do is let ourselves consider the possibility that Halcyon's punishment… was not Apollo's choice.

Yes, Apollo was the one to enact it, there’s no doubt about that. But he wasn’t the one who came up with it. He wasn’t the one who wanted it.

And the clues are there.

All throughout the series, there is one character who is particularly fearful of prophecies. Who condemned Apollo to his own punishment at the end of HOO by citing as a reason that he'd been too quick to name a new Pythia who could speak the future into existence. Who could plausibly have taken issue with Halcyon’s one single act of interference specifically, because it might not look like it but Halcyon saving that little girl's life is the first domino falling in the long chain that will lead to Luke allying with Kronos, the second Titanomachy, and Olympus' stability being threatened thrice in less than a decade. The character whose personal symbols pop up in key moments of the story: the goat Amalthea, the aegis replica destined to Thalia, his own daughter.

“Prophecies,” Apollo tells Meg in THO, rather vehemently, “are the catalysts for every important event—every quest or battle, disaster or miracle, birth or death. Prophecies don’t simply foretell the future. They shape it! They allow the future to happen.”

Zeus takes this to mean that if he can just stop prophecies from being uttered he can prevent any problem from materializing.

Frank looked at Zeus. ‘Um, sir, Your Majesty, can’t you gods just pop over there with us? You’ve got the chariots and the magic powers and whatnot.’

‘Yes!’ Hazel said. ‘We defeated the giants together in two seconds. Let’s all go –’

‘No,’ Zeus said flatly.

‘No?’ Jason asked. ‘But, Father –’

Zeus’s eyes sparked with power, and Jason realized he’d pushed his dad as far as he could for today … and maybe for the next few centuries.

‘That’s the problem with prophecies,’ Zeus growled. ‘When Apollo allowed the Prophecy of Seven to be spoken, and when Hera took it upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates wove the future in such a way that it had only so many possible outcomes, so many solutions. You seven, the demigods, are destined to defeat Gaia. We, the gods, cannot.’

According to Zeus, prophecies constrain the future. They lock people into a predetermined course of action, a predetermined outcome. They take away people’s ability to choose.

There’s a whole debate to be had on whether Zeus is right or not to think so – and a whole other debate to be had on top of that one on whether Zeus truly believes this is the case or just chooses to delude himself that it is because doing so absolves him of responsibility – but for the moment what matters is that Apollo disagrees with him.

‘Zeus was already angry with me for appointing that new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus seems to think I hastened the war with Gaia by doing so, since Rachel issued the Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her. But prophecy doesn’t work that way! [...]’

Apollo thinks of prophecy as a guide, not a prison. Ultimately, it’s still up to each individual to make their own choices:

“The only other person I’ve ever known to have this, er, firewood problem, back in the old days, was this prince named Meleager. His mom got the same kind of prophecy when he was a baby. But she never even told Meleager about the firewood. She just hid it and let him live his life. He grew up to be kind of a privileged, arrogant brat.”

Hazel held Frank’s hand with both of hers. “Frank could never be like that.”

“I know,” I said. “Anyway, Meleager ended up killing a bunch of his relatives. His mom was horrified. She went and found the piece of firewood and threw it in the fire. Boom. End of story.”

Hazel shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“The point is, Frank’s family was honest with him. His grandmother told him the story of Juno’s visit. She let him carry his own lifeline. She didn’t try to protect him from the hard truth. That shaped who he is. [...] By burning his own tinder, he kind of…I don’t know, started a new fire with it. He’s in charge of his own destiny now. Well, as much as any of us are.

Apollo really believes in people’s right to make their own choices. He believes in people’s right to take responsibility for those choices too. But to be able to do that, people need to be informed.

“Die,” I repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Not disappear, not wouldn’t come back, not suffer defeat.”

“Nope. Die. Or more accurately, three letters, starts with D.”

“Not dad, then,” I suggested. “Or dog.”

One fine blond eyebrow crept above the rim of his glasses. “If you seek out the emperor, one of you will dog? No, Apollo, the word was die.”

“Still, that could mean many things. It could mean a trip to the Underworld. It could mean a death such as Leo suffered, where you pop right back to life. It could mean—”

“Now you’re being evasive,” [...] Jason’s stare was unrelenting. I suspected that in the weeks since his talk with Herophile, he had run every scenario. He was well past the bargaining stage in dealing with this prophecy. He had accepted that death meant death, the way Piper McLean had accepted that Oklahoma meant Oklahoma. I didn’t like that.

“Let’s assume you’re correct,” I said. “You didn’t tell Piper the truth because—?”

“You know what happened to her dad.” [...]

“Yes, but you can’t know how the prophecy will unfold.” [...]

Jason shrugged. “[...] I knew you’d be coming to find me. Herophile said so. If you’d just waited another week—”

“Then what?” I demanded. “You would’ve let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper’s peace of mind, once she found out?”

Jason’s ears reddened. It struck me just how young he was—no more than seventeen. [...] Despite all his experiences, was it fair of me to expect him to think logically, and consider everyone else’s feelings with perfect clarity, while pondering his own death?

I tried to soften my tone. “You don’t want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn’t want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends, especially deadly secrets…that really never works. It’ll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac’s shoes, and get away without any five-letter words that start with D.”

The scar ticked at the corner of Jason’s mouth. “Donut?”

It’s hard to say for sure how big a part did Jason’s resignation play in sealing his fate. This is not the time for that discussion anyway, but I think it’s important to make note of the fact that Apollo really, really did not like it. That Jason’s resignation is in fact what scared Apollo the most.

I quoted the above passage almost in full because I think it exemplifies and summarizes better than almost anything Apollo’s views on prophecy.

Apollo thinks of prophecy as a beacon in the darkness. It spurs people into action. It lights up their way and pushes them forward, far from the safe stagnancy whose ultimate and truer expression is death (or immortality. But that too is a digression for another time). It doesn’t take away people’s choices: it gives them new ones.

It’s easy to forget, but Apollo is not just the god of prophecy; he is the god of knowledge and truth too. As much as he’s guilty of doing it himself, he does not actually believe in sticking your head in the sand.

"I warned you," a new voice said. [...]

"You dare come here?" Hades growled. "I should blast you to dust!"

"You cannot," the girl said. "The power of Delphi protects me." [...]

"You've killed the woman I loved!" Hades roared. "Your prophecy brought us to this.'" He loomed over the girl, but she didn't flinch.

"Zeus ordained the explosion to destroy the children," she said, "because you defied his will. I had nothing to do with it. And I did warn you to hide them sooner." [...]

"Perhaps I cannot bring back Maria. Nor can I bring you to an early death. But your soul is still mortal, and I can curse you."

All through the course of PJO, HOO and TOA we see Apollo’s oracle – his oracles plural, in fact: the Sibyl of Cumae and the Sibyl of Erythrae too in addition to the Pythia – share everything they know punctually and without fail. It’s their job to warn people about the future on Apollo’s behalf, despite the unwarranted backlash they get for it. Apollo himself is heavily implied to be the one who’s sending demigods their convenient prophetic dreams. And who else but Apollo could be the source of Octavian’s confidence that the Sibylline books had survived the fall of Rome, well before Percy, Hazel and Frank met Ella the harpy?

In TOA, we see Apollo share all that he learns as soon as he learns it, with each and every one of the people he can count on his side. Even when he thinks it will be detrimental, even when he fears their reaction. He still tells them.

The only times we see Apollo be anything less than forthcoming, it’s to cover up the fact that he legitimately does not have the answer. This became extremely clear in TOA, but Percy, who’s much more intuitive than a lot of people give him credit for, had figured it out already in TTC:

"But it's your Oracle," I protested. "Can't you tell us what the prophecy means?"

Apollo sighed. "You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear through the search."

"In other words, you don't know."

Apollo checked his watch. "Ah, look at the time! I have to run. [...]"

So, here’s the million dollar question: why would Apollo be opposed to Hal doing the same thing he himself always does? Sharing Knowledge? Giving a little girl a choice, a chance to save herself?

He wouldn’t. He is not the one who was against it. He is certainly not the one who wanted to see Hal punished for it.

This recontextualizes Halcyon’s words that “Apollo warned me to keep quiet,” because to speak about the future “would anger the gods.” This phrasing is not an indication of Apollo trying to shirk responsibility for the punishment he was threatening his son with. It’s the literal truth. Halcyon putting his powers to good use would anger the gods – not Apollo himself. Gods like Hades who cursed Apollo’s oracle for trying to warn him of imminent danger, or Zeus who stripped Apollo of his immortality for revealing a prophecy “prematurely”. Gods who should very much not be named lest they turn their attention to Apollo and his son.

In this light, I feel it’s pretty illuminating to look back on this line from THO, right out of Apollo’s own mouth:

How could I have been so foolish? Whenever I angered the other gods, those closest to me were struck down.

Of course, Zeus would have been perfectly capable of enacting the punishment himself, much like he'd done with Asclepius, but… with everything we know about Zeus’ parenting and ruling style after TOA… it’s not that hard to imagine he might have wanted to make a point here. It’s not hard to imagine that having to personally deliver the punishment to his own son might have been Apollo’s own punishment for his son’s transgression.

Remember how many times Apollo likens Zeus to Nero? Wouldn’t it make a scary amount of sense for this to be a “Cassius, I’m rewarding you by letting you cut Luguselwa's hands” move on Zeus’ part?

Apollo, in my generosity, I allow you to give your son the horrible news yourself.

And of course Apollo would have taken the offer. Of course he’d have accepted to take part in this sick game. What other choice did he have? Defying his father? Declaring war on the king of the gods? Should he have murdered some of Zeus’ favorite servants again? He’d done it for Asclepius, and still had not been able to win him a better deal than forever jail. Which, granted, would still have been a better deal than the one Halcyon got… provided that Apollo could achieve that kind of victory again.

Something else to consider: Halcyon almost certainly wasn’t Apollo’s only child at the time. And if Apollo had more children, then those children undoubtedly would have become more targets for Zeus’ anger, had their father dared provoke it any further.

Perhaps Apollo should have taken the risk. Perhaps Apollo chose wrong. But there was no path for him to choose that would not lead to the slaughter of innocents.

At least, this way, Apollo could see and speak to Hal one last time. This way, he could leave his son with a promise that his punishment would come to an end.

Because it’s obvious, from Halcyon’s account of his father’s words and actions, that Apollo had foreseen that Luke and Thalia would be the ones to break the curse, and that Hal would be able to escape his misery by dying to save the life of Zeus’ daughter, and therefore had taken care to set up the means for that potential future to be realized.

The book containing the recipe for greek fire, that Hal was strangely confident they would find on his bookshelves.

The safe containing the aegis replica, an item befitting Zeus’ progeny, that only a son of Hermes could successfully open, and that Hal remembers Apollo telling him “was sealed since before [Hal] was born”. Who could have done that, and why, if not Apollo so that Thalia could eventually take rightful ownership of it?

I’d dare suggest, even, that Apollo might have been the one who sent the goat, with the precise intention of luring Thalia and Luke into the trap, knowing that they would make it out thanks to Hal’s sacrifice, with a gift such to ensure that Thalia’s divine father would have no reason to object to the final outcome of Apollo's gamble, and every incentive to overlook how it had been orchestrated.

But of course Apollo would never tell his son “I had no choice” because WHEN DOES HE EVER. Five books and WE are the only souls he’s actually confessed being an abuse victim to, and even to us he’s given zero details. He never makes excuses for himself. He doesn’t think it matters that he could. He holds himself responsible anyway.

He believes that he must, because his father never does.

‘I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.’

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

‘But you must understand,’ Zeus continued, ‘only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way… regrettable, but necessary [...].’

I had no choice, is Zeus’ constant refrain. I can’t help you, he tells the demigods. “You did not ask for this,” he tells Jason. “I did not want it.” And yet who could have forced the hand of the king of the gods?

He tells his son “I can’t praise you.” He tells him “I can’t give you credit.” He says “someone must take the blame.” He says “it’s the lightning bolt that hurt you.” He says “you must understand. It was necessary. I had no choice.”

So Apollo refuses to claim the words for himself, even if they are true.

It’s very noble, but also incredibly misguided. It’s the root of all the communication problems he has with his children. The reason why he can’t bring himself to answer Will, and Kayla, and Austin, when they try to tell him that they want him in their lives, not just once or twice, but always, every day. Even they, who know they are loved, have absolutely no idea how much.

“Maybe Apollo meant we’re going to rescue you,” Thalia said.

Hal typed a new sentence: Or maybe I die today.

“Thank you, Mr. Cheerful,” I said. “I thought you could tell the future. You don’t know what will happen?”

Hal typed: I can’t look. It’s too dangerous. You can see what happened to me last time I tried to use my powers.

“Sure,” I grumbled. “Don’t take the risk. You might mess up this nice life you’ve got here.”

I knew that was mean. But the old man’s cowardice annoyed me. He’d let the gods use him as a punching bag for too long. It was time he fought back, preferably before Thalia and I became the leucrotae’s next meal.

Hal lowered his head. His chest was shaking, and I realized he was crying silently.

When Luke and Thalia meet him at the beginning of the tale, Halcyon is resigned to his fate, and terrified that if he tries to fight it he'll be punished even worse, somehow. He's lost all faith in his father's judgment, and, if he ever had any, in his father's promise of freedom too. He's surrendered to utter despair. He resists Luke's demands that he do something, anything, to help both them and himself.

Then Luke manages to open the safe, and Hal begins to realize that… maybe… just maybe... there’s a possibility that his father had not lied to him.

Hal showed us the short novel he’d written: You’re the ones!! You actually got the treasure!! I can’t believe it!! That safe has been sealed since before I was born!! Apollo told me my curse would end when the owner of the treasure claimed it!! If you’re the owner—

He's still terrified. He struggles to let himself dare hope. But eventually he finds the courage to do the right thing once again: use his talent to save the life of these kids who don't deserve to die.

He reads Thalia's future.

And then he reads Luke's.

I could feel Hal’s pulse in my fingers—one, two, three.

His eyes flew open. He yanked his hands away and stared at me in terror.

“Okay,” I said. My tongue felt like sandpaper. “I’m guessing you didn’t see anything good.”

It’s in that moment, as he finds himself in the exact same position his father Apollo had once been, seeing the terrible tragedy in this child’s future that he knows, in spite of his best efforts, he won’t be able to avert… It’s in that moment that Hal finally understands.

Hal picked up his green leather diary. He gestured for me to follow him. We walked to the closet doorway, where Hal took a pen from his jacket and flipped through the book. I saw pages and pages of neat, cramped handwriting. Finally Hal found an empty page and scribbled something.

He handed the book to me.

The note read, Luke, I want you to take this diary. It has my predictions, my notes about the future, my thoughts about where I went wrong. I think it might help you.

I shook my head. “Hal, this is yours. Keep it.”

He took back the book and wrote, You have an important future. Your choices will change the world. You can learn from my mistakes, continue the diary. It might help you with your decisions.

“What decisions?” I asked. “What did you see that scared you so badly?”

His pen hovered over the page for a long time. I think I finally understand why I was cursed, he wrote. Apollo was right. Sometimes the future really is better left a mystery.

“Hal, your father was a jerk. You didn’t deserve—”

Hal tapped the page insistently.

We are not made privy to Hal’s thought processes in detail. Apollo was right, he writes, and he bristles when Luke tries to protest that notion. He taps the page insistently. What is he trying to communicate? Surely he can’t think that Apollo was right to warn him off of trying to use his gift to save people?

Especially because… Halcyon is at this very moment once again defying fate to try and save someone. He is at this very moment trying to save Luke from the terrible future he’s seen.

He knows he doesn’t know enough. He knows he can’t tell Luke what to do. Luke will have to make his own choices. But Hal can make sure those choices will be as informed as possible. Hal wants to give him a chance. He wants to give him hope, something to hang onto when he will be tried. He wants to give Luke what his father had given him.

Because Hal understands now. Not everything, of course, no. He, and Luke and Thalia too, are still missing the most important pieces of the puzzle. But, clearly, Hal understands enough. Enough to make peace in his heart with his father. Enough to trust that he will get the release his father had promised him in death. Enough to die with a prayer in honor of his father on his lips, quite literally dedicating his heroic sacrifice to him.

I heard Halcyon Green, shouting a battle cry: “For Apollo!”

We have no idea what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. We don’t know what the tone of Hal and Apollo’s last conversation was. Did Apollo allow his heartbreak to show on his face? Did he tell Hal how sorry he was?

Certainly, he would not have blamed Zeus, and he would not have tried to exculpate himself. Which is why Halcyon still ultimately thinks this was Apollo's decision.

And yet, something peculiar happens when Hal narrates his conversations with Apollo. "My father warned me," he says, "my father cursed me". But in between those we get "then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me". The gods. There’s that phrasing again. And it does make me wonder... is this how Apollo presented the whole thing to Hal? Are these Apollo’s own words?

I have to say, I really can see it. This is the will of the gods, Apollo would have said, and just... never specified but NOT MINE. Because he felt that he had no right to Hal’s understanding, let alone Hal’s forgiveness.

Did Hal pick up on that subconsciously anyway?

We don’t know what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. We know, because Hal tells us, that Hal had faithfully heeded his father’s warning, until the day he met that little girl, and found that his conscience would not allow him to let her die. We know that in the end Hal forgave his father. That Hal, in his last seconds of life, took comfort in his father’s name.

Why would Hal do such a 180 on Apollo in such a short amount of time? Just based on the realization that Apollo had indeed foreseen all this, and prepared accordingly? Because of what he’d seen when he looked into Luke’s future? It’s a hell of a leap from “Apollo can’t punish me any worse than he already has” to “Apollo was right”, and one that really there’s no way to make logical sense of… unless Hal had just been waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to reconcile himself with the memory of his father. Unless, all this time, Hal had wished nothing more than to be able to believe in his father again.

We don’t know what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. But Hal’s change of heart, and his behavior leading up to his end, would seem to suggest rather a good one. Not too dissimilar, perhaps, from the one Apollo shares with his kids in the present.

Or perhaps Hal was just scared and desperate as he readied himself to die, and grasping for straws because straws were all he got. For all we know, that’s possible too.

But that is not how Hal appears to Luke in his last moments.

He met my eyes, and I finally understood what he was planning. “Don’t,” I said. “We can all make it out.” Hal pursed his lips. He wrote, We both know that’s impossible. I can communicate with the leucrotae. I am the logical choice for bait. You and Thalia wait in the closet. I’ll lure the monsters into the bathroom. I’ll buy you a few seconds to reach the exit panel before I set off the explosion. It’s the only way you’ll have time.

“No,” I said.

But his expression was grim and determined. He didn’t look like a cowardly old man anymore. He looked like a demigod, ready to go out fighting.

I couldn’t believe he was offering to sacrifice his life for two kids he’d just met, especially after he’d suffered for so many years. And yet, I didn’t need pen and paper to see what he was thinking. This was his chance at redemption. He would do one last heroic thing, and his curse would end today, just as Apollo had foreseen.

He scribbled something and handed me the diary. The last word read: Promise.

I took a deep breath, and closed the book. “Yeah. I promise.”

In his last moments, Hal is full of dignity and hope. He finally finds the courage to stand up tall and proud of himself again. I feel it would be doing Hal a disservice to assume that, in those last moments, his renewed faith in his father was grounded in delusion rather than truth.

What was he trying to communicate to Luke in their last exchange? What did he think Luke could learn from his diary? What is the promise that he asked Luke to make? We’ll never know. Luke chooses to not tell us.

Luke chooses to erase Hal’s last words to him from the narrative, and substitute his own.

I couldn’t shake my grief.

Promise, Halcyon Green had written.

I promise, Hal, I thought. I will learn from your mistakes. If the gods ever treat me that badly, I will fight back.

There’s a lot to be said about the way Halcyon and Luke influence each other in opposite directions. About the way Halcyon’s death and Luke’s death mirror each other. About the way Halcyon’s relationship with Apollo mirrors Luke’s relationship with Hermes. I know @tsarinatorment has excellent thoughts re: this, and not only this, that I hope she will share.

But for now this is already long enough, and so to bring us back to my original point… No, the Halcyon story, taken as it is, does not gel with TOA at all. But once you dig just a little deeper under the surface of it… I’d dare say it becomes impossible to rule it out of canon, because it fits too well within canon. It fills in the narrative blanks left by Apollo, who never tells us the details of Zeus’ abuse, and therefore… never tells us about Hal.

To tell us about Hal would require Apollo to admit that he had no choice. No good ones at least. It would require Apollo to admit that he’s not at fault.

But how can he not be at fault? He literally did do this. It was his words that cursed his son. His hands that delivered the instruments of torture.

So Apollo doesn’t talk about Halcyon. But when he calls himself a terrible father, when he berates himself for his failures as a parent, as a person, as a god, you bet he’s holding himself responsible for Halcyon too.

And in this light it’s interesting, I think, to note that despite how Apollo feels re: prophecy there are no known present day children of Apollo who possess the power to look into the future. There’s only Octavian, who is a legacy, and whose gift is implied to have been passed down his family line, and perhaps Georgina, who is in all likelihood a legacy too, possibly even descended from a different branch of Octavian’s family.

We know from Hephaestus that sometimes gods can choose to suppress the transmission of a specific ability to their children. Hephaestus did it with fire, and I don’t think it’s farfetched to imagine Apollo would have chosen to do it with prophecy after Halcyon. Again I know Tsari has given this far more thought than I have, so I pass the metaphorical mic to her.

Finally, I want to talk about how this whole novella is basically a concentrated allegory of TOA, featuring Halcyon as a stand-in for Apollo himself. Forever trapped in his childhood home full of monsters who have stolen and perverted his voice, and that he can never escape because they are inextricably tied to him, and him to them. Punished for the crime of having a functioning moral compass and having chosen to follow it, and after years of death & tragedy that are framed as a direct result of that choice... he has almost completely internalized the idea that he might actually have been in the wrong. He's surrendered. He’s not only accepted the slaughter but has even become complicit in it. He’s become a monster himself.

And then we get Thalia & Luke who are a stand in for all the people Apollo bonds with on his journey, who give him hope again, who reaffirm his conviction that there IS, there HAS TO BE a better way, and reignite his will to fight. After all, he realizes, what does he have left to lose?

I turned my face to the sky. “If you want to punish me, Father, be my guest, but have the courage to hurt me directly, not my mortal companion. BE A MAN!”

To me this novella absolutely reads like a first outline of the TOA series that Rick might have later decided to flesh out and expand upon. The core themes, the central ideas are all in there.

But Halcyon can only find redemption through death. The narrative denies him the chance to survive and do better. He’s only a man, and for him the odds are impossible. He dies thinking that on some level he deserves it – he brought this on himself. He dies still thinking that maybe he was wrong to save that little girl's life.

I wonder if in the first draft of TOA Apollo was meant to die at the end like Halcyon did. In a way he did die, in fact. But he’s a god, and for a god no odds are impossible. So Apollo is reborn through the power that he finally allowed himself to reclaim, because he finally has learned to believe that he was right to want to use it. He was right to want to help people. He was right. He learns the lesson that Halcyon never could. He is afforded the opportunity to keep trying.

#rrverse #trials of apollo #toa #toa meta #halcyon green #the diary of luke castellan

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spenglersglasses · 2 days

Text

Hey there Ghostbuster lovers!!!!!

II know it has been a WHILE since we hung out but I'm back again with the next chapter of my Egon x OC Molly fic!

I hope you all enjoy!

(Special thanks to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the dividers)

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info on my main blog @copiousloverofcopia

Things have fallen on hard times for the members of the Ghostbusters when the memory of saving the world from the threat of supernatural destruction fades in the minds of the city. Now, with each of them going their separate ways, Egon joins up with another scientist to share a lab so he can continue his experiments. When an innocent mistake by his lab mate leads to a mix up that could mean big consequences for Egon, he must choose whether or not to reveal the truth to Molly, the test subject or keep it secret forever.

Observations in Love

Chapter 4: Halloween

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet? Start from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

“Molly, wait!” Egon called out as Molly stormed down the block. Her eyes were fixed straight forward, refusing to look back at him. How could he know a thing like that and not tell her? Why would he not tell her that she was pregnant with his child, before deciding to make a fool of them both in the middle of her friend’s party.

“I have nothing to say to you right now Dr. Spengler.” she huffed, finally reaching the doors to her building. Egon chased after her as fast as he could, grateful that he managed to catch up as Molly struggled to find her key. Hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, faced with his general lack of athleticism. Huffing and puffing as he tried to decide what he should say next.

“Please.” he begged; Molly let out a sigh before she turned around to face him. She could see in eyes he was angry with himself. Molly, realizing that while it was a stupid mistake Egon hadn't meant to hurt her. The revelation, forcing her to consider if it really was just his haphazard announcement that was bothering her.

Molly had to face the facts. She was in love with the odd scientist and former ghostbuster even though she had only barely acknowledged it aloud. Everything was happening so fast; she felt her head spinning. Am I really pregnant…with Egon’s baby, she thought.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She knew she should be thrilled, ecstatic even at the news. Instead, all she could think of was the interaction between him and Janine. It was true they had broken things off long ago, but had his feelings towards her really changed?

For all intents and purposes, he barely knew Molly. If Janine wanted him back, would he abandon her? Leave her to be with the woman he loved, instead of someone he accidentally became involved with? Molly couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Egon had managed to pull himself together enough to step up beside her on the stoop. “Go ahead, say what you need to say.” Molly huffed; her mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. Trying her best to hold back her frustration—her tears.

“It was an accident. I would have never blurted it out like that had he not…” Egon began, ranting away before realizing that he was shifting the blame. “No…no that’s not right. I’m sorry. I should have been more discreet.” Molly felt the tears beginning to well in her eyes as she nodded in response.

“More so Egon, you should have told me first! You knew this whole time and said nothing. How long did you know about the baby?” she asked him. Hearing her own words as they left her, rendered her speechless. Both their hearts thumping as Egon stared deeply into Molly’s eyes. Wanting desperately to kiss her.

“That’s right—we’re having a baby.” he smiled, pulling Molly towards him, and leaning into her. The two of them instinctively closed their eyes as the heat of their lips pressed together. Molly shoved him back, worried that she had jumped too fast. Egon stood still in confusion, staring back at her.

“What's wrong?” He asked. Molly took in a deep breath, knowing if she didn't say anything now then whatever came after this moment could be ruined.

“What—what about Janine?” She asked, feeling embarrassed to have even brought it up. Egon smiled, pulling Molly’s tearful face into his hands. Cupping her soft cheeks in his palms.

“Molly. Janine and I are long over. It's true that we were close. That at one time I had asked her to marry me…but despite how much we tried we just couldn't make things work—we are incompatible together.” He explained.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound sure.” She asked him, the hints of hope present in her voice. Egon smiled, finding himself laughing a bit at just how adorable a jealous Molly could be.

“I am sure…a couple can't make it work when they both want different things in life.” he explained. Molly listened, staring down at her feet. Shuffling a bit as she tried to bring herself to say what needed to be said next.

“Do we?” She mumbled; Egon barely able to discern her words. Molly, wondering if she had said them out loud at all.

“Do we what?”

“Do we want the same things?” she repeated. Her hands, coming to rest on the small of her belly. Egon’s eyebrows raised, knowing now exactly what she meant. He placed his hand over hers and smiled.

“Yes. Yes, we do.”

“Egon…” Molly began, the two of them moments away from sharing a kiss when the sound of someone approaching came upon them.

“Oh, shit Mol, here you are! Are you ok?” Sam asked her, inadvertently ruining the moment between them. She had managed to sneak away from the party and track them down. Figuring that Molly would run home.

“I'm fine Sam thank you, just tired and needed to leave. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the party for you.” She explained.

“Girl… no. You didn’t ruin anything. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. Elaine and I are worried about you…and Seth…well.”

“LET’S…not talk about him.” Molly insisted, turning her sights to Egon. It was clear to Sam that with the news of Molly’s pregnancy, things between her and the new beau had suddenly become a lot more complicated.

“No worries… I uh…” Sam continued, struggling to find the words, when Egon chimed in.

“Listen, I should go. Let you get some rest tonight. I will be back to see you in the morning.” Egon assured her, realizing that Sam was going to be hard pressed to leave her friend after the night they’d just had.

“Yeah, I got it all taken care of Dr. Spengler.” Sam assured him. Egon smiled and turned to walk down the steps when Molly reached out and touched his shoulder.

“No wait… you don't have to go.” she whined, shooting Sam an annoyed look. Understandably upset at her friend for having dismissed him without her consent.

“It's ok, really. I will see you bright and early…after all we have a lot to discuss.” He said, smiling up at her. Molly couldn’t help but smile back. Her cheeks still flush from their kiss.

“Ok.” she lamented. Sam, nodding as she helped Molly inside the building. Egon returning home. His fingers tracing his lips, reminiscing in the memory of their kiss.

Molly awoke the next day with a slight headache. Sam still passed out on the sofa in the living room as she got up to make herself something to eat. Settling for a small cup of blueberry yogurt and a half-eaten granola bar, before sitting at her kitchen table. Her hand, occasionally finding its way to her stomach.

It was strange, knowing there was a child inside her. A piece of her and Egon with her even now while they were apart. Sam was even more surprised at the news. Telling her friend that her life was beginning to sound like something out of a made for TV film. The two of them laughed as they thought about how Elaine would respond to the news. Molly, never more excited to think that a family, a whole family, was in the cards for her after all.

She devoured her breakfast quickly, feeling quite ravenous after not eating much the night before. The sounds of her in the kitchen, stirring Sam awake. Her friend joined her at the small table. From the sour look on her face, it was clear she was feeling the effects of all her drinking at the party.

“Ah… I didn’t even have that much.” Sam groaned.

“You gonna make it?” Molly chuckled. Sam sneered at her as she felt her stomach twisting and turning.

“How is it you're the one pregnant and I'm the one who feels like she might puke?”

“Ha ha very funny.” Molly smirked. Casually glancing over to the clock to see that it was already almost 9am. “Shit… you sticking around for Egon? He will probably be here soon. He’s very punctual.”

“I can imagine.” Sam said with a raised brow, “So weird you’re having your boyfriend's baby without even having slept with him.” Molly’s face went bright red.

Well if you hadn’t come over last night that might not have been the case, Molly thought to herself. Only smiling on the outside as Sam managed to pull herself out of the chair and head back into the living room. “Where are you going?”

“I’m grabbing my stuff so you and Loverboy can be alone sheesh.” Sam said, rolling her eyes, “I want all the details later… I’m gonna head back and see how badly jacked the place is.”

“Ok” Molly laughed as Sam disappeared through the front door.

Egon had been tossing and turning all night. His eyes bagged and dark from the lack of sleep as he made his way into Ray’s Occult Books before heading to Molly’s. This situation had been kept close to the chest, Egon choosing to keep it all to himself before evolving anyone else in his affairs. With a baby well on its way however, the one person he had to tell was Ray.

He walked in through the back entrance, long before the store opened, to find Ray sorting through last month's books. Trying to find somewhere to scrounge up a few extra dollars to make this month's rent. The store had always been a passion for Ray, the only thing he had that was his. After the Ghostbusters went under and he lost all his money from the house, this was all that was left. Egon was always there to help whenever possible, but today he was the one who needed it most.

“Good morning, Ray.” Egon said, handing his friend a cup of coffee.

“Egon? What’s got you over here so early? Everything alright?” Ray asked him. It wasn’t like him to show up unannounced so early in the morning looking like something the cat dragged in from his lack of sleep.

“I need to talk.” Egon said plainly, taking a seat opposite Ray at the desk.

“Ok, shoot.” Ray said as he went to take a sip from his cup.

“I’m going to be a father.” Egon confessed, Ray choking on the coffee and making a mess of himself with the news.

“Is this a joke? Did Peter put you up to this?”

“No, nothing like that, I'm serious.” Egon explained, and from the look in his eyes Ray could tell he wasn’t kidding. Grabbing some tissues and cleaning himself off as he let out a sigh.

“Well, that's unexpected. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. Who is she?”

“Molly.”

“Molly? The girl at the research lab?” Ray asked him. Though Egon was rather vague, he had mentioned her to Ray a few times. While Ray figured Egon had a crush on her, there was nothing Egon ever told him to think things had progressed as far as this.

“Yes… it's a long story.” Egon explained. Ray raised his eyebrows and nodded his head.

“I bet… Well then, I’m all ears.” he responded. Egon was grateful to have him to talk to. It didn’t take long to let Ray in on the chaos that had become Egon’s life. His feelings for Molly growing, then the accident at the lab, and confessing it all to Molly. Ray’s head had begun spinning with all that had happened in such a short amount of time.

“So you… you haven’t even slept with her?” he asked Egon. the normally deadpanned scientist blushing.

“I–ah, yeah that's right.” he confirmed, swallowing back as Ray shrugged.

“I mean hey shit happens. I suppose you’ll be making up for that though.” Ray chuckled. Egon looked unsure. “What?”

“Last night I may have accidentally announced the pregnancy to her entire friend group. We were at a party and...”

“Party? You actually went to a party… well now I know you love this girl. I can’t even get you to crawl outta the lab unless foods involved." Ray laughed, Egon nodding in agreement. It was clear to Ray that Egon had a lot to sort out. The feeling only intensified when Egon explained his mess up. Ray was compassionate of course, but let Egon know that he had definitely overstepped.

“Well, there is no going back now. All the two of you can do is move forward… I mean you’re gonna have a kid. Wait until the guys hear about this…” Ray said when Egon shot him a look, “...that is when you’re ready to tell them of course.”

“I appreciate the discretion, Ray. Listen, I have to go. I am supposed to meet with her this morning.” Egon explained as he stood up from the chair and headed back out the way he came.

“Go get her tiger!” Ray cheered as Egon reached the threshold, rolling his eyes as he disappeared from the doorway.

It was a chilly, however uncharacteristically nice day for this time of year in the boroughs. Egon had been walking along, so lost in his own thoughts that when he found himself at Molly’s building he had no idea how he’d gotten there. The last few weeks had felt so surreal that he could hardly think of anything else. He tried to shake off his nerves before pressing the button to ring her apartment when Sam came through the door.

“Oh! Dr. Spengler.” she smiled, barely missing running into him. Egon, smiling at her as he moved out of her way.

“Good morning, Sam.”

“She’s waiting on you…but uh don’t tell her I said that.” she laughed, Egon’s heart beginning to pound.

“I won’t.” he responded as Sam reached the sideway, turning back around as Egon started inside.

“Oh and Dr. Spengler…” she began as he turned back to face her. “Happy Halloween.”

“Same to you.” he told her as he walked inside. It was Halloween already, Molly’s favorite holiday. The thoughts of this time next year having their own little trick or treater had begun filling his mind. A baby to be born sometime in the summer, bouncing around as a happy chubby little thing dressed up as a little dinosaur, a princess, or maybe even a ghost?

The possibilities had filled him with joy. A feeling so intense that Egon thought he might burst. A kind of happiness he had never felt before and never expected he would ever feel. Knocking on Molly’s door with the imaginations of them together all dressed in costume for baby’s first Halloween still heavy on his mind.

“Good morning.” Molly said as she answered the door. Giving Egon a hug before allowing him inside. The two of them, sitting together on her small couch in the living room, both of them feeling the intention of being so close once again.

“How are you feeling?” Egon asked her as he brought his hand out to take hers. Molly smiled, bringing her own hand once more to her belly. It’s new favorite resting place just below her navel.

“We’re fine. No symptoms yet.” she giggled. The sound of her voice coupled with how beautiful she looked, sent Egon’s heart soaring. This gorgeous and kindhearted woman was going to be the mother of his child and as far as Egon was concerned, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m glad. I wanted to tell you Molly I am so sorry about last ni–”

“It’s ok, Egon. I’m over it. Let’s put it behind us ok… we have much more important stuff going on.” Molly smiled.

“Listen… What are your plans for tonight? After all, it's Halloween.” Egon smiled, Molly’s face turning to panic.

“Oh my god I completely forgot. I must be losing it.” she laughed. “I actually don’t have any other than the party last night… did you have something in mind?”

“Why don’t you and I head to the store and grab some candy and a bite for lunch. We can spend the day together talking… you know, getting to know each other better.” Egon explained. The idea made Molly feel more than a little excited. She had been wanting to be with him for so long and now with the baby on the way, things were almost perfect.

“And the candy?” she asked him.

“We can hand it out to the trick or treaters.” he told her, watching as she began to tear up, still smiling brightly as if she had never felt happier.

“I love that idea.”

Molly and Egon had spent the day together. Fighting the crowds at the store for all the other last minute candy shoppers. Molly, poking fun at Egon for devouring a bag of fun size crunch bars before they even made it back home. The two of them, dropping off the bags of candy before walking to a local diner.

Molly hadn’t felt like eating much, but Egon insisted. Reminding her that it wasn’t only herself that she would be nourishing with her club sandwich and side of fries. Molly, heeding his request as the two of them talked for hours.

Egon continued to apologize for his behavior at the party. Explaining to Molly everything between him and Janine. He wanted to be married, have children, move on in life and Janine was just not ready and he wasn’t sure if she ever would be. Eventually it was two much for the two of them to overcome.

Molly had felt so relieved, though also a bit guilty for feeling so. Quickly changing the conversation to other things. Eventually the two of them ended up getting kicked out of the diner to make room for other patrons. Laughing as they grabbed their coats and dashed out onto the sidewalk.

“So have you always wanted a family?” Egon asked her as they walked back to her apartment. Trying to continue their conversation they’d begun inside the diner.

“Ever since I was little…” she smiled, squeezing Egon’s hand as they walked.

“Can I ask something?” Egon inquired cautiously. Molly, nodding for him to continue. “Why someone like Seth? Someone like you could’ve been married and had a bunch of kids… why this idea with him?” Molly grew a bit quiet. It was an easy answer, though it wasn’t one she was sure Egon would believe.

“It just never happened for me. I mean I began to grow impatient. The dating scene here in the city is not exactly quality.” she laughed, Egon following along with her. “I just knew I wanted to be a mom and Seth, despite his behavior at the party, is a good guy.” Suddenly Egon began becoming a bit uncomfortable. Hoping there wasn’t something between them he had overlooked.

“Do you…do you love him?” he asked her, frightened to know the answer.

“I do, but not romantically. He’s a good friend Egon…that's all.” she assured him, taking hold of his face and pulling him down to kiss his cheek. “I—” she began, the words of love for her companion dancing on the edge of her lips when they reached the building.

“We are here.” Egon said, drawing Molly’s attention back to the present time.

“Oh, let me let us in.” she laughed nervously. The two of them, heading upstairs and pouring bag after bag of candy into a big bowl. Watching TV and talking away while they awaited the first sign of trick or treaters. Getting to know each other, little by little as the minutes turned to hours.

By the time the first trick or treaters arrived, Molly was well versed in Egon’s unconventional upbringing and he in her typical childhood experience. Both of them were equally fascinated by one another. Molly was practically begging Egon for more about his time as a Ghostbuster and his hopes for the future of his reach. The two of them, quickly turning their focus on their own future—one they would now share.

“Oh, my heart.” Molly said as she closed the door. Smiling with the thought of the group of trick or treaters that just left her door. Egon too couldn’t help but notice how adorable they all were. Dressed together as a little princess and a dragon. Mom and Dad, politely waiting behind them as they opened their bags for their candy.

“I wonder what our will be.” Egon said aloud, catching Molly’s attention. Realizing only then he had said it aloud.

“I think it's a boy.” Molly hummed, “Must like crunch bars like his Dad.” she continued, scarfing down one as the Egon started hungrily at her.

“I think you might be right.” Egon smiled.

“You ok.” Molly laughed nervously. Seeing her glowing, eating his favorite chocolate so happy and carrying his child had Egon’s blood swirling. Not only had he gotten to know this beautiful creature, but he had reached a point where he could no longer allow things to continue without making her his.

“I need to fix this.” he said in a low hum. Standing up from the couch to approach her.

“Fix what?”

“I can’t go any longer knowing you are carrying my child without… without having copulated with you.” he explained, pulling Molly close to him. Arm wrapped gingerly around her waist. The words and his forwardness, heating her cheeks and speeding up her heart. Pupils, dilating as he brought her lips to his, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate on her mouth.

“Me either…” she said breathily into their kiss. Before they knew it, the two of them were making a heated dash to Molly’s bedroom. A blur of clothing tossed to the wayside and the two of them felt desperate to be with one another.

“Are you sure?” Egon asked, hesitating a moment, already leaking. His cock now rock-hard at the sight of Molly laying naked beneath him. She was beautiful–his mouth watering at her ample breasts. Full and almost perfectly symmetrical, with taut pale pink nipples. He found it hard not to stare at her, analyzing every inch of her body. Every inch of her was perfection in his mind.

“I’m sure.” Molly said, raising herself up to kiss him once more. Tongues, tangling together as Egon’s hands went wandering over her. Caressing the soft flesh of her breasts as he kissed down along her neck. Leaving marks in brilliant shades of purple along her collarbone.

Taking his time before dropping to her breasts. Drawing the nipple into his mouth, Molly let out a satisfied sigh. His fingers tracing down the line from her sternum to her still flat stomach. Stopping a moment to remember that he already was inside her. Groaning, Egon decided he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make up for his lack of pleasure in their child’s conception. His curious fingers traveling to the heat between her thighs.

As he slipped inside her, they both moaned. Egon was thrilled to know how much he excited her. His intellectual mind, reminding him that her wetness and warmth was directly correlated to her desire for him. His fingers quickly curled up inside her. Determined to find the right spot when Molly’s back arched up from the bed. Driving his fingers more in contact with the right spot.

“Oh fuck.” she moaned, as he pressed into the soft spongy spot along her upper walls. Making small, deliberate circles as he felt her began to clamp down on him.

“Oh Molly, cum.” he told her. Molly was writhing beneath him on the bed. Hands gripped tightly to her sheets as the sounds of her nails scratching against the fabric filled her ears. The fringe of her hair, sticking to the sweat on her forehead as she came hard against Egon’s fingers. Breathless and crying out his name.

“Egon! Ah!” Feeling the rush of wetness over his hand made Egon moan, heated and mad with desire. He knew that he needed to be inside her. Quickly pulling out his fingers to stroke himself before lining his cock against her sex. Allowing the tip of his head to kiss at her clit. Rubbing her with it a moment before he pushed carefully inside her.

“Oh you feel so good.” he groaned, filling her slowly. Her whole body, still shaking beneath him. Still engrossed from her orgasm. Though she was weak she was ready, Molly wrapping her legs around Egon to help draw him further inside her.

“Mmmm… oh…uh…” Molly cried. Her insides, pulling tightly along his shaft with every stroke of his hips. Crashing inside her over and over. The sheer pleasure of him filling her so completely, making it hard to press on. The two of them, both completely lost in passion and bliss.

Egon continued pumping, his hands grabbing hold of Molly’s hips as he pushed inside. Staring down at her as she kept her eyes closed. The look on her face, making him want to fuck ehr harder. The knowledge she carried his child, making him want to slow down.

Though he knew sex in pregnancy was not usually harmful, Egon could help but want to be careful. To protect her and their baby from anything that would dare harm them. Choosing to keep going with their safety in mind as he continued slowly, but deeply taking her.

It wasn’t long before Molly began shaking beneath him. Her legs, quivering and her moans becoming less coherent. Her core, squeezing him so tightly it caused him to mewl. Lifting her up on his lap so he could kiss her as he continued to thrust inside her.

“Oh Egon, yes… yes… yes!” she cried as Egon fucked up into her. Breast bouncing in his face before he began to kiss and suck on them. His own orgasm quickly made itself known. Once he felt her begin to pulse it was over, Egon cumming hard against the back of her. Spilling himself as she continued to rise and fall on his cock.

The two of them were so exhausted afterwards they collapsed beside one another in the bed. Egon pulled Molly over against his chest. His now lover, nuzzling against him as she began to waiver in and out of sleep. “Molly…” he began.

“Hmm?” she hummed, only half coherent enough to respond.

“I—” Egon said, wanting to tell her he loved her. Already he loved her and their child more than anything. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Molly responded, though it was clear to Egon she wasn’t awake enough to understand what he had said—what she was saying.

“Happy Halloween.”

“Happy…” Molly said, her words trailing off as she passed out snuggly against him. Egon wrapping his arms around her. Holding her close as she slept.

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deancasbigbang · 2 years

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Title: Viva Las Vegas

Author: one_more_offbeat_anthem

Artist: Scarlett Dixon

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Dean/Cas, background Alastair/Abaddon, implied Sam/Rowena

Length: 21000

Warnings: Mentions of gambling, prison, and alcohol

Tags: 1920s AU, Getting back together, Heist, Found family, inspired by Ocean's 11, inspired by The Sting

Posting Date: October 6, 2022

Summary: The year is 1924. Prohibition is in full swing, Nevada’s gambling ban is still being enforced, but in a post-war environment, skirts are short and good cheer is abundant. Unless your name is Dean Winchester. Eight months ago, Dean was put away for racketeering (read: illegal gambling) for working at an underground iteration of closed casino Hotel Nevada, and to make matters worse, his partner (and best friend) Cas Novak broke up with him via a letter halfway through his stint in prison. Back in Las Vegas, Dean’s looking for revenge: he knows that Alastair Cunningham, manager of Hotel Nevada, framed him, and the only solution seems to be doing a heist to rip Alastair off in return. But there’s a bit of a problem: to make this scheme work, Dean’s going to have to enlist all his closest friends and family…and that includes Cas.

Excerpt: It was near one in the morning when the house finally cleared out, leaving only Bobby and Dean. Sam’s absence was another noticeable thing—even once he’d gotten his fancy law degree and started working, he’d still stayed with them, with Bobby predicting it was to save up until Sam had a girl to impress. “Okay, we gotta talk,” Bobby said. In the days before Prohibition hit, he would have said this with a drink (although Dean knew Bobby had some moonshine hidden away somewhere). “About what?” Dean sat down heavily in his chair, the dishes done once again. “Don’t play dumb, boy. About Cas. And those kids. And your brother.” “What do you want me to say, Bobby?” Dean let out a long sigh. “Everything's down the drain. I get framed by Alastair, and then Sam’s run out of town, Cas leaves me, and Claire and Jack take up jobs they shouldn’t have to do. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” “Sam’ll come back soon, he’s tough. And Jack and Claire are growing up. In fact, Claire is grown up. You gotta let them make their own decisions, even if you don’t like ‘em.” “And Cas?” Bobby sat down next to Dean. “I don’t think all hope is lost. I saw the way he was lookin’ at you tonight, the same way he always looks at you, like you hung the moon or something.” “Bobby, he hates me!” Dean put his chin in his hands. “Did he say that?” “Might as well have.” “But he didn’t.” Bobby leaned back in his chair. “I think you’d be surprised, if you let yourself talk to him.” “If.” “You’ll do it soon enough, I know you.” Bobby chuckled. “You never go down without a fight. Don’t let yourself do it this time.” Maybe Bobby was right, but as Dean prepped for bed, it was hard to believe that. He’d had a different vision of how his whole homecoming would go. For starters, someone would have picked him up from the prison, or at least have been there to walk with him, and that someone would have been Cas. Everyone would have begged the night off for a real welcome-home dinner, and chances were, he’d spend the night at Cas’s (or Cas would stay at Bobby’s). Instead, he was going to bed alone.

DCBB 2022 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2022 #fic preview #2022 promo #deancas #destiel

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theuniversitychallengereview · 2 months

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Like Riding A Horse Into Battle

This is the story of how I became a knight (for approximately fifteen seconds).

My journey back from a lovely weekend in Oxford visiting a friend (saw some geese, drank some beer, watched a National League football match) necessitated two changes and went via London (via Didcot Parkway) because Sunday train timetables don't make any sense.

I got into Paddington and cycled through to Euston with the commentary of the Man Utd - Liverpool FA Cup match in my ears. So far so smooth.

Not for long. Chockablock at the Euston concourse. A crowd to fill twenty trains packed underneath the schedule screens, staring at page after page of delayeds. Signal failures between two places you've never heard of meaning every single route in and out of the station was in disarray.

Denied entry to the first train which left, I joined another thronging queue. We could see our train on the platform but no one was allowed through for about half an hour.

Twenty minutes into this interminable limbo, an Avanti staffer told us we could also queue in the adjacent concourse (both of which had access to the platform in question, but one of which had been empty). Ever the instruction follower, I moved over into the new zone, but when they opened the gates they only opened the ones for the old zone, prompting guttural groans from a number of men who felt that they (specifically) had been duped into joining the new queue for malicious reasons.

We did get through, eventually. But only after those from the original zone had been allowed to stampede like suitcase-laden wildebeest for about thirty seconds were we permitted to join the charge ourselves.

Spotting my bike, a staffer-cum-commanding officer yelled at me and said I was needed at the front. Or rather, he said I needed to be quick if I wanted to get to the furthest carriage before the train filled up and my bike wouldn't get on. But what I heard was that I was needed at the front.

Swinging a leg, I mounted my steed and did as my General had asked of me, absolutely nailing it past everyone else on the platform like I was riding a horse into battle.

Time stopped and I was King of Euston.

Pulverising these poor pedestrians with the prodigious power of my pedals.

They, lumbering, sluggish, lugging their cumbersome luggage. I, flowing, free, zipping transcendentally past them. So many people in such slow motion.

Time restarted, I dismounted.

A normal human being once more. But a normal human being with early access to the unreserved seats. The battle was over.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the fact I will never get the chance to be an elite athlete. This might be as close as I will ever get.

But on to eight people who have already experienced this, competing as they have done at the sharp end of student quizzing all series.

This is the last of the ten quarter-final matches, and sees Trinity take on Birkbeck.

Each have won and lost one of their previous matches at this stage, and its too close to call. If you want to watch the episode before reading the rest of the post you can do so here.

The winner will join UCL, Imperial and Manchester in the last four. If Birkbeck win there will be three London Unis in the semis for what would surely be the first time ever. Let's see if they can do it; here's your first starter for ten.

Jaksina attempts a bit of humour in his intro, saying 'I should be doing a masters in genetics, but instead I'm here', and while I'm not going to slate him too much, I think he should probably stick to the genetics once the tournament is over.

They manage none of the bonuses, and Bannerjee gets Trinity off the mark with Hero on the next starter. Caldera and Mesa gave them two of the three bonuses on geographical terms in Spanish, before Bannerjee gave them the lead with Einstein.

It's McMillan vs Bannerjee on the buzzer so far, and the Birkbeck man picks up his third of the evening with the picture starter, an extract from Sir Gawain and The Green Knight (who had a horse, which was also green, but not a bike). Demonstrating solid knowledge of medieval poetry, they take a hat-trick on the bonuses. The Chronos Quartet gave McMillan a fourth starter, and Strasbourg a fifth (with a neg from Bannerjee in between continuing their control of proceedings).

This must have given Henderson a taste for glory, because she was back at it with a rapid buzz of John Donne on the very next starter, breaking the duopoly. Another hat-trick on the bonuses tied the game.

Chadha continued the bright new post-McJee age with nucleation to grab the lead back for Birkbeck, but it didn't last long, with a superb Jaksina answer of Paraguay equalising for Trinity, and a Henderson bassoon nodding them ahead. The Cambridge side have really hit their stride now, and take a third consecutive 3/3 on the bonuses to take their biggest lead of the game.

Having hibernated for a few minutes, McMillan returns with Edith Cavell on the picture starter. Mixing up Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo leaves them 15 points adrift, but Kang takes charge with beryllium to put Trinity back in control.

He then pulls a magnificent educated guess of Cairo Station from the clue 'Egyptian transport terminus' on their first bonus. This kind of answer is absolute quizzing gold, based on nothing but word association, and Trinity are delighted by it.

An early buzz of Vienna by McMillan is wrong, and when Kang picks it up with Prague you sense that this is the end of the road for Birkbeck. It was the correct tactic to buzz in early, but these things don't always go your way, and his rueful shake of the head tells us he knows it's over too.

Rajan slates Kang for missing a bonus on a South Korean city, but it doesn't matter. Their place in the semis is already assured. Birkbeck 100 - 165 Trinity

A tight match up until the final few minutes, in which Trinity pulled away. A valiant performance from Birkbeck, especially McMillan, but they weren't quite good enough on the day.

The semi-final lineup is now complete, with my predictions coming 75% true.

Trinity

Manchester

UCL

Imperial

The first matchup is Imperial/Trinity followed by UCL/Manchester. I can't wait, see you there.

#university challenge #bbc2 #cambridge

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mcgnussen · 1 year

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every day i come to this site and find new bullshit about haas. while i love being on here, it’s also extremely draining to see all these half truths and rumours being spread around as fact. this is going to be the last post i make about mick and haas. i am so done with this subject.

the new thing is that apparently mick found out in a hotel lobby that he would no longer be driving for haas. we can all agree that is not the optimal setting if this is true. however, what was mentioned in the same article that people purposefully ignore is that there apparently was never any negotiation between haas and mick at all. if there were no negotiations, mick has known for a long time that he would not get the seat.

funnily enough, i can actually use my own life as an example for once. the contract i have with my workplace is up november 30th and they have not approached me about extending said contract. i have used my common sense to figure out that the contract is not going to get extended and my last day at work will be november 30th. i am not getting fired, the contract is just up. imagine how deluded i would be if i came into work december 1st and then claimed “well, you never technically fired me, so i still work here, right?” you cannot get a seat without negotiating with the team. f1 does not work like that, ordinary life does not work like that.

the whole haas-mick timeline makes no sense if you believe all the rumours. apparently at first it was claimed that haas stopped mick from negotiating with williams because they kept dangling the haas seat in front of him, but now we are all told that mick and haas never negotiated at all, but also somehow guenther mercilessly told him in a hotel lobby... despite the fact mick has never been promised anything at all since they did not negotiate? it makes absolutely no sense.

luna christofi, the danish reporter who has followed haas closely for a long time because of kevin, has said that the reason the announcement came late was because guenther hoped mick would find another seat somewhere, so mick could announce being part of a new team before haas announced nico. he was basically waiting to sign officially with nico for that reason. and it’s pretty shitty if he did that to help mick out while all the stans have been going around and claiming he did not care.

in my opinion, based on all these rumours and half truths flying around, i think mick engaged in a game of chicken with haas. he saw that every other seat available was given to someone else. i think he definitely did try and get them, but ultimately lost out to other drivers. haas did not negotiate with him. so instead, mick kept on and hoped for the best. but he saw the writing on the wall a long time ago, his management must have done so too. guenther tried to protect mick’s reputation by pretending haas did consider keeping him to the media, but then had a hard time officially telling mick, so it ended up becoming this rushed end-of-season announcement.

should guenther just have bitten the bullet and told everyone that mick was out during the summer break? yeah, i think so. it would have been some awkward months, but at least we all would have known and there would be no room for misunderstandings and spin. however, don’t forget that guenther did actually tell us that no negotiating was taking place. he said months ago that the two camps were not talking about a new contract and haas really wanted to know what mick’s plans were. all of this line up with the timeline and reasons luna provided. and should mick have done more to not get himself in this situation? absolutely. i think it was a strategic move from mick’s management to have played it like they have. i am also very aware all these rumours and half truths all come from german media, which i do not think is a coincidence at all. don’t forget that getting dropped from a team is bad for your career. mick and his management have good reasons for wishing to control the narrative of mick’s departure from haas.

#mick schumacher #haas f1 team

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loudlooks · 1 year

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Find The Word Tag

Rules: It's simple, see if the words exist somewhere in your writing and share a snippet. WIPs, published works, heck I even count author's notes sometimes. IMHO, variations on the words are allowed (shook instead of shake, cloudy instead of clouds and the like), and even synonyms (storm instead of thunder) if you really can't find something. Just share your snippets with your friends, tag some people and give them some new words to look for if they want to take up the challenge!

I was tagged by @mrsmungus, thank you, with the words: laughter, new, realise, melody, shiver

If anyone else wants to play: mirror, ball, blood, movie, hot

Laughter - Not all is as it sounds

McGee’s eyes went wide, mouth still agape. When he heard a groan, his face contorted in disgust.

“Harder. HARDER I said!” Ziva’s voice easily drowned out the music drifting in from the backyard. McGee leaned backwards a bit to peer down the hallway in case anyone outside might have heard. Other than some indistinct conversations and laughter coming through the back door, nobody but him seemed to have heard their Israeli coworker.

New - Fake dating (WIP that hasn’t been touched since 2016 apparently)

“I need your help with a fake date,” he said so only she could hear.

Ziva furrowed her brow.

“There’s this gorgeous blonde at O’Malleys that refuses to go out with me-“

“And you want me to go out with her?” she deadpanned.

He stopped looking around and locked eyes with her. His eyes flicked to her lips and she had to work hard to keep a straight face. This was entirely too easy.

“No,” he replied slowly, seemingly lost in thought as he looked her over. “I want you to fake date me.”

“How exactly will that help,” she deadpanned.

“How would you fake dating her help me,” he shot back.

“Well, that fantasy that popped into your head five seconds ago should give you plenty of new material for your wet dreams, yes?”

Realise - Auction (WIP that I’ll be rewriting for the 124th time on my deathbed...why did I even open this document)

When he moved in to try and capture her mouth, he realized they had wandered into the hallway. He looked at her, nodded to his left. “Bedroom’s over there.”

She chuckled, and with a mischievous glint, said, “I know.”

Melody (not the word, but there’s a lot of mentions of music in this ficlet) - Fake Mistletoe (sort of finished,but I was convinced it was terrible without even bothering to edit it)

The appallingly modern rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” coming from the speaker next to him made Tony wince. Taking a slow sip of his eggnog, he quickly scanned the bullpen before once more focusing all his attention on the hallway to his left. His gaze flitted upwards, making sure the mistletoe hadn’t mysteriously gone missing.

Shiver (replacing this with Chilling, for no other reason than I’m too lazy to open another file and that word was in the first sentence) - In Which Tony's Life Finally Turns Into a Movie (follow up to a one shot crack fic I posted, again from 2016...either that was a good year because I was writing a lot, or a bad year, because I wasn’t finishing anything...)

The drive to the Navy Yard was chilling. As in, it was cold because the driver’s side door was literally on the backseat, but also, Ziva’s seemingly life-long desire to die in a mangled car wreck had apparently increased ten-fold—luckily it was midnight and traffic was light. Tony however was everything but chilling. In fact, he didn’t even want to think about anything that referred to cold. Was he cold? He couldn’t even tell.

#tiva #tag meme #i feel like i'm doing this wrong #maybe that's the migraine talking #good news i sort of want to finish these wips #not getting my hopes up though #unless i'm lucky and get a post-migraine high #at a glance maybe that christmas fic isn't the absolute dumpster fire i assumed it was #i think my filters are starting to malfunction again #shutting up now #my fanfiction

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teamdilf · 8 months

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Gonna talk a bit about the end of Baldur’s Gate 3 and the journey I took Petra on (and why I love it). Ending spoilers after the cut!

So, I had Petra rescue Orpheus and instead of sacrificing herself or Karlach (her girlfriend), she asked Orpheus to. When I told my partner, he teased me; his own character made the sacrifice (“because he’s a good person”), and I laughed and told him I was happy with the call I made.

Petra’s journey as a stage performer turned adventurer is about learning that not all stories have happy endings and that it’s really fucking hard to be a hero. In the beginning I think she might have made the sacrifice, but by the end she sees a convenient way out (after all, few know the prince remains alive, so it hardly changes much, and Lae’zel can lead the rebellion!), so she takes it.

It’s a selfish decision undeniably, and I think she realizes it’s a selfish one when Astarion expresses his approval to her. But it’s the moment she learns that she’s not the hero she imagined herself to be. She’s a person - a real damned flawed one, and putting herself and her immediate companions above Orpheus is something she thinks she’s willing to live with at that moment.

She does fulfill her promise and kills him in the end; she wouldn’t force the man to live that way.

I’ve seen a lot of anger about Karlach’s fate (and was, in fact spoiled that her ending options were bleak when I was midway through the game), but I kind of love it? It was so heavily foreshadowed, and Karlach said repeatedly that she wanted to die on her own terms in the world she loves; not survive and be stuck in Avernus. So, when Wyll offered to go to Avernus with her and begged Karlach not to die, it was Petra who angrily shot him down. Her girlfriend made her choice long ago and she would make sure she got to die how she wishes.

(She’d also be furious with Wyll, who says he can’t watch it. Not that she’d say so at that very moment but all he had to do was walk away and let Petra sit with Karlach on her own as she dies.)

It’s a devastating moment and I bawled my eyes out, but I’m also happy Karlach got to live the last months of her life on her own terms and that she and Petra were able to find happiness together, however brief it was.

And, as someone who is both a Karlach and Astarion simp, it does make for an interesting post-canon story. Petra turned down Astarion because she wanted something real and at the party she realized he was hiding behind a mask and seeking sex as self-preservation. But he grows a lot over the course of the game and by the end, he is someone who is a viable romantic option. Karlach sees the feelings the two of them share and tries to talk to them both; to tell them that it’s OK that they love one another and that when they’re ready, she wants them to go for it. She just wants Petra to be happy, and she’s so afraid she’ll lock herself away from the world because she cannot handle her grief.

Which, of course, is exactly what she does. My impending longfic has Petra hiding in her room at her father’s house. She’s a mess - she hasn’t dyed her hair is months, and has week-old eyeliner and mascara dried in streaks down her cheek. Astarion is the one who finds her and cleans her up - just as he took care of her in the immediate aftermath (I’m changing how his realization that he cannot be in the sun any longer happens slightly because the way they did that in-game was dumb and even in the depths of her grief Petra would make damn sure he makes it somewhere safe because she just lost one person she loves and she refuses to lose another). He’s going to enable the odd stupid decision, and the two of them are going to be idiots about their feelings for a long damn time. But, y’know, eventually they get there.

Can you tell I’m really excited about this fic?

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 spoilers #astarion x tav #tav x karlach #bg3 spoilers #baldur’s gate fanfiction #j's fics #Baldur’s gate 3 ending

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boundinparchment · 2 years

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Of Blood and Sparks - II

Karina Alexandre of Fontaine lost her position, her family, and her Archon's favor. A dead Electro Vision is her mark of guilt. A reminder to never fail again. Faith shattered, and suspicious of the Fatui, she eventually makes her way to Liyue, where she encounters a certain funeral parlor consultant. Little does she know it's only the beginning. Original character centric; eventual Zhongli/OC. Posted originally at @chevalier-of-fontaine. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net || Karina's profile

The poor training dummy received another flurry of slashes and a jab, as a sword pierced the stuffed fabric of the torso. The material gave way with ease and a soft hiss of torn fibers; nothing like fighting against an actual enemy, human or otherwise. Hay poked out when Karina pulled her blade back, her breathing heavy. Drills were meditative more than anything else. No one was barking a series of steps at her but she was never at rest long enough to feel rusty. She was up before dawn, as always, her sword never falling until her muscles ached. The sun was now finally beginning to crest over the valley hills, staining the sky with purples and pinks.

Karina wasn’t the only one with habits hard to kill, judging by the figure walking down towards her tiny accommodations on the winery’s land. They never spoke of their mutual experience in service. Or tried to. A rigid military lifestyle, however brief, left its mark on all who enlisted.

That night in the library felt so long ago. It had, in fact, been only a few weeks since Rhiannon’s book was back in her hands.

“Morning,” Karina huffed, never taking her eyes off the target.

She slashed, turned to parry, and then brought the blade down to slice through the dummy’s back. When Diluc didn’t say anything, she stepped again with a flourishing finish. It tore off the arm of the dummy and the hay-filled limb thumped to the ground.

"A letter arrived for you at the main house,” Diluc said by way of greeting.

She’d put in for a position in Liyue weeks ago. Trade was better and she could earn a more stable living. Her shop in Mondstadt did well enough but it was her work with Dawn Winery that she earned the most from. Repairing uniforms and curtains and duvets and the occasional singed jacket was easy enough but she didn’t want to stay in Mondstadt forever. The City of Freedom felt stagnant. To say nothing of recent events with Dottore demonstrating that it was too susceptible.

“Any news about Collei and Cyno?” Karina asked, breathing hard.

She grabbed her scabbard and slid the blade home before attaching the weapon to her belt.

It was hard not to think about the bandaged girl who made the trip from Sumeru to Mondstadt on foot. Scared, alone, knowing nothing but the endurance of pain. A victim snatched up from the streets and used for experiments before she had the chance to learn to write…

“The binding of the Archon residue is holding and they’re on their way back to Sumeru,” Diluc said, holding out the letter. “There’s no telling what permanent effects exist. The Akademiya is for the best.”

The wind picked up a little, a welcome breeze after the strain and sweat of a morning workout. Some would have remarked that Barbados was kind to bring wind at such a time.

An absentee Archon was as good as a dead Archon in Karina’s eyes. Why place faith in that which you could not see?

“At least she’ll be out of the hands of the Harbinger. That’s all we can ask for, I suppose,” Karina said softly.

She took the sealed envelope but didn’t open it. Instead, she gestured for Diluc to follow her and they walked towards her tiny staff cottage, where she held the door open in silent invitation.

Under different circumstances, her lack of care for the living space he graciously offered to her would have been bothersome, even embarrassing. Books were strewn about and what little laundry she had hung to dry near the fire. The cooking rig above the flames was, for now, bare; a pot and kettle sat on the stone hearth, awaiting use. She rarely had the opportunity to utilize the space to begin with as of late. There was nothing more than vague friendship between them now; his opinion of her living quarters mattered little.

“Did you eat?” Karina asked, picking through her stash of food in the tiny kitchen. “Or should I just make coffee for myself?”

“I’m fine,” Diluc replied as he wandered over to the cramped sitting area decorated with thick leather bound tomes and scribbled notes. “Aren’t some of these from Lisa’s private collection?”

“They’re some of her textbooks from the Akademiya; exchanged for a weekend of dusting and polishing the library from top to bottom.”

After all, when she wasn’t working, what else was she supposed to do? Much like the man across the tiny cottage, she wanted nothing to do with the Knights of Favonius themselves. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to make use of what resources she could, even if it meant quid pro quos.

When she finally had coffee in hand, Karina brought her attention back to the letter and opened it.

Her eyes scanned the cramped writing, which described how her working papers were a perfect match for the position. Even praise for her experiences in the military, which was often a turn-off for employers. Many expected her to be demure or soft while being knowledgeable; it would seem that the shopkeeper was thrilled to have someone capable of needlework and swordsmanship. Excellent.

Liyue was not an easy decision. While it was the closest region, it tolerated Fatui presence. Her stomach knotted itself at the thought. The recent Fatui visit in Mondstadt had been horrible enough.

“Well, it would seem I’ll be moving to Liyue sooner than expected,” she muttered, handing the letter to Diluc to look over. “I’m to be a tailor in the garment district. The pay is equal, with commission for larger projects.”

Diluc frowned, a look not far off from his usual unimpressed expression. “The region is a known Fatui ally. Or, rather, mostly associated by proxy via Northland Bank and the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Even Fatui need funerary rites, I suppose. Although the kind of rites depends on who you ask.”

The silence hung around them like a pall as he read the letter once, and then twice. Karina took tentative sips of the scalding caffeine all the while, the liquid as bitter as she felt.

Anxiety rippled through her at the thought; Liyue was its own land but the region was known for commerce, with the largest branch of Northland Bank overlooking the sea. She put off the consideration when applying; it was a bridge to cross when she got there. But now that she stood on its edge…

Living in one of the major cities the Fatui had a foothold in was the last thing she needed. To say nothing of living in one of the most devout regions in Teyvat when she no longer held favor with her own Archon. Mondstadt was…well, Mondstadt; hardly anyone batted an eye if they saw her dead Vision. But Liyue? The land of contracts? A different story, to be sure.

“I can accompany you, if you’d like,” Diluc said, letting the paper gently fall onto the small table between them. “I have business in Liyue anyway. Two weeks would give us enough time to reach the lab and take care of other business before you take on the new position.”

He hadn't mentioned having any business the last time they spoke about a possible trip. How utterly convenient.

Karina raised a doubtful eyebrow and he elaborated, “Someone is trying to mimic our signature Dandelion Wine. I need to shut that down immediately before we get market competition with a lesser-quality product.”

With a skeptical look behind him towards her pathetic collection of clothing, he continued.

“And you’ll need more appropriate clothes for such work. A dress, for one.”

Her pride felt pinched, like a child’s cheek around a doting aunt. She worked hard to repair her clothing as needed. It was one of the few things she could still do that didn’t make her parents roll in their premature graves.

“Nothing is torn or ripped.”

“You and I both know there are expectations with this job since you’ll be facing the public. Looking the part is always half of the battle. It’s something to take care of in Liyue; there’s little point in carrying all of it with you.”

Karina held back a biting remark that her wardrobe was sparse for the sake of blending in. Not that he would necessarily understand; red hair wasn’t easy to forget.

Neither were smoldering crimson eyes staring back at her.

She broke her gaze away first, throwing back the rest of her coffee in favor of forgetting other memories, other moments, of heavy gazes and tangled limbs. Diluc took his leave with a quiet word of parting, looking everywhere but at her.

A few hours later, her map was carefully marked out with their journey. Lisa’s books were packed up and given to servants to return on her behalf. They would leave tonight, once Diluc finalized his own affairs; his businesses were well managed but they were hardly self-sufficient.

At least they would get to explore what little was left of the lab.

Karina dropped her pack near the fireplace in the main house after locking up the cottage, the fire throwing flickering shadows around the room. She unhooked the heavy Vision at her belt and sat down near the hearth, holding the stone close to the light. If she looked hard enough, she could make out the Electro emblem and a subtle hint of purple in the darkened stone. She pulled a polishing cloth from a tiny pocket of her backpack and began on the setting, rubbing the imbued cloth against the metal.

Years ago, she would have had badges and medals to polish too.

But all she had now was the dead God’s Eye and the buttons on her jacket.

The latter weren’t too important at the moment.

The silver swirls and filigree easily collected dirt and dust; they were the worst of the entire piece. It hardly mattered, she supposed. Polishing the Vision was a habit she would never be rid of, much like patching her clothes, rising early to do drills. A ritual that kept her at peace.

If she was going to delve into the madness Il Dottore left behind and spend time surrounded by Fatui, she was going to need what little peace she could get.

#verse: of blood and sparks #genshin impact oc #genshin impact original character #fanfiction #fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin oc #OC: Karina Alexandre #have some edits while I work on DALDOM #one of these will keep me sane and the other will drive me up a wall guess which is which lmao

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introvertedlass · 1 year

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You bring up some good points. The timing certainly works in his favour. The question is why? Did he post the video to just fufill some PR obligation? Like he did his part by sharing the video but he's being a bit underhanded in doing it at a time when it won't get much traction? She or her team can't fault him for not doing anything? I mean, I'm on team PR so I'm looking at it from that angle. It's just interesting to me that he waited until she was home. Do you think he waited on purpose or do you think they were caught out and we weren't supposed to know that she was back home?

I'd love to hear more about what you are thinking.//

So I’m the original anon here and 100% we were not suppose to know she was back home. One of the things working for them is the fact that we don’t know AB’s location. And they lost that. Ginger actually brought up a good point, that part of the reason she isn’t back on IG is because her location would say PT. I’m not sure if you can change it manually, but that would be another tell.

Personally I think the video was planned, but their hand was forced. I’ve said this multiple times and I will die on this hill, but I really think some shit went down behind the scenes. There’s a noticeable switch up from all parties involved. And at this point, esp with how loud the fandom has been regarding everything that’s happened, they needed to shut it down. Secondly, I think they needed to present CE in bf role to help with Ghosted. The very first thought I had about that video is how much it sells CE as a boyfriend. It’s 100% on brand for him without anything significant regarding her. We still have no real clue who she is in and out of this relationship.

Looking at it from a PR angle (I’m team real/not genuine. I don’t believe they signed contracts, but I do think they intended for the publicity) there’s long term benefits and short term benefits to this. Short term benefits is SM engagement. That is Hollywood’s newest currency. I actually interned in the Paramount Pictures Market Research Department YEARS ago and I can tell you first hand SM/SM engagement is VERY important esp. for streamers.

Long term wise, I’ve always thought he was breaking up with the internet. I still stand by this, but I think it’s a little bit more nuisanced than that. I don’t think he wants to destroy his image, but I think he wants to change how he’s perceived. Marvel really put him on a pedestal that has placed expectations on him that I’m sure he finds suffocating. AB really throws a curve ball and shatters the illusion we have of him. Instead of being this perfect person (Steve Rogers), he’s now just some regular/predictable man. Without those expectations, which was probably getting worse as he was getting older, he can focus on his acting and expand his roles in front and behind the camera. I would akin it to George Clooney back in his day. He’s always had a great image (talented, funny, charming, generous, etc), but he didn’t have any expectations on how to live and who to date. He had the freedom to live his life as he chooses. Ultimately I think that’s what CE wants.

Another perspective.

Anon, I'm not sure what you mean by "team real/not genuine.

#chris evans pr #chris evans

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steamgoat · 2 years

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I want to start to draw again!! My psychiatrist kinda scolded me when I told her I hadn’t in a while, because drawing more was a part of the “homework” she gave me, along with going for walks more.

It’s been a rough month for my depression and not helped by the fact that a good friend of mine passed away recently and the loss was a big shock, even though we hadn’t really talked in a while (I feel very guilty about that)…

He was a really wonderful person who had so much light to give to the world. He worked with children at a library and he always brightened everyone’s day. He was younger than me and left behind a partner and dog and cat and so many friends and family that love him. I feel so awful for them but I didn’t know any of them personally…

It’s just so weird to think that I just saw him posting stuff like a few days prior to his passing and now I’ll never see a new post from him. He was getting really good with his art too! It’s just not fair, and I know that’s said about the majority of good young people that pass away, but it’s true. Like why couldn’t a few of the rich old bastards running the country have gone in his place! They always seem to hang on the longest…

—

Anyway I also started playing neopets again for some reason. About 15 years ago or so I lost my main account that I had like, nice painted pets on and the lab ray and items from when neopets was first getting started that would be so valuable on there today (it got deleted completely along with most of my other accounts bc I had too many and it was considered cheating).

Then like seven to ten(?) years ago or whenever they started that stupid customization thing where all the pets have the same pose I decided to make another account to get the main pet I’d always wanted but couldn’t afford(darigan lupe), just to be able to say I got it lol. And after I worked hard to get it I left again for some years. But it’s still around. So I’ve been using that one, plus some side accounts that are within the rules for having side accounts.

There’s a bipedal owl neopet now and also a paint brush that turns your pet into a weird elderly version??? And also paintbrushes that give your neopet a bunch of clothes that I don’t think looks good(including stealth and steampunk). I miss the unconverted pets(before they were all the same pose so you can put clothes on them) which had so much more personality, but those are so hard to come by now (apparently there’s this whole hierarchy of unconverted pets you would need to trade up to to even get a chance to get an unconverted pet you want from someone who has one, if there even are any left up for trade (I guess you can trade pets now instead of just putting them in the pound and hoping the person adopted them before anyone else did, which is nice).

Neopets is all about spending real human money now tho, just like all these other games, and apparently they might’ve gotten into nfts? Idk. I still like some of the pets tho and it’s nostalgic to play it again even if it’s very different now. Tho most of the games are flash based still despite modern browsers no longer supporting flash… so I can’t really do that unless I get an older version of a browser I guess? Which I haven’t gotten around to figuring out how to do yet. But yeah. Dunno how long I’ll keep playing but maybe I’ll draw some neopets lol.

#personal ramblings #death mention

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lastchancevillagegreen · 2 years

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Thursday, 14 July 2022:

Get Closer Linda Ronstadt (Asylum) (released in 1982)

I didn’t even know this album existed (and if I ever did know I had long ago forgotten) until my brother went through his Ronstadt catalog study in 2020-21. I had no idea that the Close-Up toothpaste commercial took Get Closer as their jingle until my brother informed me of it. I barely wanted this album but it is Ronstadt’s final ‘pop/ rock’ album for Asylum and I swore I’d get all of her Asylum albums in that genre. I already own all three of her albums with Nelson Riddle as well as her two Spanish album, all with Asylum. As of 1991 Ronstadt moved over to Elektra and that’s where this boy is getting off the Ronstadt train.

This is a gorgeous copy I found on eBay. Thanks to the dealers photos I opted to go with this album instead of a $40 still in shrink wrap copy on discogs. I’d already spent way more on Ronstadt’s catalog (Hasten Down The Wind was the real killer) than I wanted to, but I wanted copies of these albums that look good. This album was priced well below discogs $40 version and I can tilt this album cover and still see the metallic sheen of that red and white polka dotted dress. I told the dealer to keep shooting good photos because that’s what sold this copy!

Below are the front and back of the inner sleeve.

The final two shots are of the labels for both the A side and B side.

That means the only Ronstadt album I don’t yet own is Mad Love and that’s the one I wanted the most! The Rib Brothers’ copies were beyond damaged. I bought a sealed copy of it from Wuxtry’s in Decatur, Georgia for $9.99 and it has been lost in the mail. I talked with the dealer who said the Post Office failed to scan the barcode when he dropped it and several other albums off so he said it was probably sitting in the same place since 30 June! I filled a form indicating that the album was missing and I had all the dealer’s particulars. I noted to the Post Office that the dealer brought in a mountain of LPs at the same time and they possibly may have failed to scan the album in. Today I got word from the post office that they believe the delay is due to the fact that, “There is a possibility that your package is missing an acceptance scan. If that is the case, your package is still in transit. The sender sent the package via media mail which takes longer than other shipping services. The package may still take another week to reach its destination.” I’m glad they listened to me! I’ll be in Chicago next week so this tumblr won’t be able to document it’s arrival. You will have to wait until the 24th of July when I am back at my home base.

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nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Fun

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x F!Reader

Summary: With you near-death experience in Dressrosa, you’re craving for a certain type of release.

Warning: NSFW!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: A certain Luffy fanart has made me think of dirty thoughts about him so here I am posting this filthy thing. I’m so flustered, it’s not even kinky but writing smut really flusters me LOL 🤣 Please let me know your thoughts~

Celebrations are usual occurrences in the Straw Hat crew. Despite only having almost half the crew around, it doesn’t make the party any less lively. In fact, the presence of the new allies formed in Dressrosa makes up for the absence of the other crew members.

The near-death experience makes you crave for a certain type of release. And with the copious amount of alcohol being passed around by everyone, it doesn’t take you too long to gather up courage to find someone to help you.

Soon enough, you’re seated on a random guy’s lap, heavily making out with him, a few meters away from the celebrating people. Because of the alcohol, you’re not entirely sure who he is, but you have to admit he’s skilled at using his lips, his tongue, and his hands.

He’s just about to move you into a more private location, but before he could take you away, an arm wraps itself around your waist and suddenly you’re being pulled back into someone else’s lap.

You look at the person who just interrupted your moment, only to be surprised upon finding out it was your captain. “Luffy, what the hell?!”

“Oi, what were you doing with Torao?”

Torao? Trafalgar Law? You whip your head to where you previously were to confirm if the guy who you were with is truly him. Lo and behold, you find Law glaring at Luffy, and then angrily walking away.

You pout and let out a frustrated huff. “Ah, we were just having fun. I’ll just—” you point towards where Law went, “head back so we can...” you absentmindedly trail off, and then you attempt to get up from Luffy’s lap. Keyword: attempt. Because Luffy grips your legs so you couldn’t leave.

You furrow your brows at his actions. Just as you are to ask him why he’s keeping you there, he asks, “Why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

You swear your brain short circuited the moment his question left his lips. If you’re sober, you’re certain you would’ve taken his question innocently. But with the alcohol fogging up your mind, you aren’t sure if he’s just sulking because he wants you to party with him or if he’s inviting you to continue what you’ve been doing a while ago but with him instead of Law. And so, you want to clarify what he means. “What?”

Luffy giggles at your dumbfounded expression. He thought you didn’t hear him from the noise everyone is making, so he leans in, his lips almost touching your ear as he unconsciously rubs your thighs while saying, “I said, why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

And then he pulls away, waiting for your answer.

It isn’t easy to fluster you, but with Luffy’s proximity, the way his hands are moving, and the fact that you’re still aroused after the interrupted makeout session, you find yourself being affected by his question and it’s underlying meaning.

“I, uhm, I-I…” you stutter, unable to look at him in the eyes. You attempt to look elsewhere but suddenly your eyes land on his lips.

You’ve heard of people before who talked about how Luffy has his way of drawing people in and making them his allies. Right now that’s exactly what he’s doing with you, drawing you in — except, he’s doing it quite literally.

Before you know it, you’re leaning into him, and then your lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss before pulling you impossibly closer.

Luffy’s kisses are rather messy and uncoordinated, but it quickly makes you feel lightheaded and excited.

You’re so caught up with the moment to the point that it didn’t occur to you that you have instinctively started grinding on him. You’re only made aware of your actions when you hear Luffy groaning in pleasure. And that’s when you start wanting more, but you’re both still on the deck and there are still drunk people around, even if you both aren’t near them.

Luffy tries to follow your lips when you pull away. And then he pouts when your lips are out of reach. He whines your name, obviously wanting to continue.

“Luffy, I… we should… uhm…” you clear your throat. “I want you,” you whisper.

But Luffy isn’t even listening. His focus is solely on your lips and when you bite your lip nervously, he almost shivers in anticipation.

You take this opportunity to drag him into his room. Thankfully, he doesn’t object nor ask any questions, he just follows your lead. And when you’ve entered his room, you immediately lock the door and start kissing him once again.

You gently nudge Luffy to his bed, not even daring to break the kiss in the process. For some reason, the kiss turns rougher than before, almost feral.

When Luffy reaches the bed and sits down on it, you immediately climb on his lap. You grab a hold of his calloused hands and guide them under your tank top, towards your breasts. He kneads them instantly and you let out a whimper.

Luffy pulls away from the kiss. He removes his hands from under your tank top, and then the next thing you know, he’s tearing up the offensive garment. You haven’t even asked why he did that but he explains already, “It was in the way! I want to feel you better.”

If that’s the case, you unhook your bra and throw it somewhere in the room before he’d even think about ripping it off as well.

Luffy takes a moment to stare at your half naked form. With the way your boobs are slightly moving with every breath you take, he easily finds himself in a trance.

You snap him out of it by grinding on his bulge. You pull him in again for a kiss and he instantly cups your breasts with his hands again. He kneads your boobs and pinches your nipples, and you let out soft mewls in satisfaction.

You bite his lip and he lets out a sexy grunt. You palm his hardened cock and it instantly makes him breathless. He calls your name with a quiver in his voice.

You grab one of his hands and bring it under your skirt, inside your panties and urge him to touch your cunt. “You’re wet,” he breathlessly comments.

You slip one of his fingers into you, guiding him in and out. When he’s found his rhythm, you let go of his hand and let him do as he pleases. He adds another finger soon enough. The sensation elicits a moan from you.

“Do that again,” Luffy says. “Do that sound again.”

You oblige, resting your head on his shoulder as you moan at his ministrations.

You use this time to unzip his pants and tug his cock from the garments. When you start pumping him, he lets out a lewd groan and temporarily stops his fingers from moving. This goes on for a while and when Luffy starts moving his hips with the motion of your hands, you stop.

You pull away completely from him. And then you start stripping him off of his clothes until Luffy’s naked. You watch as he licks his fingers clean from the wetness of your cunt and he hums in appreciation. When he’s done, you take off your remaining clothes as well.

You grab a hold of his dick once again and kiss him on the lips. Your hand movements are slow as you switch from kissing his lips to his neck. You leave a couple of hickeys on him. Then you slowly make your way down, kissing, sucking, licking, biting his chest, his abs, until you’re on your knees, face directly in front of his dick.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, a look that you’ve never seen before on him. You look directly at him as you make kitten licks on his cock. You watch as he visibly gulps. And then you take him in your mouth and start sucking him off. Luffy pants and grunts at your ministrations. You then grabbed his balls and massaged them.

“That feels so good,” he moans.

Luffy uncontrollably juts his hips, wanting more of the pleasurable sensation you’re making him feel. And you let him.

But when you feel his cock twitching, you pull away.

Luffy whines loudly, but you push him so that he’s laying on the bed. You climb atop him, grab his shaft and coat it with your wetness. And then you slowly sink down until he’s fully inside you.

“T-tight…” Luffy mutters, “you’re so tight.”

You wait until you’ve fully adjusted to his size before you start moving. Luffy stares at you in desire as you move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every motion. He watches your face with fascination as he’s never seen your face contort with pleasure like this before. And for some reason, this makes him harder.

Then his body moves on his own, too lost in lust, his hands start squeezing your breasts, his hips start thrusting into you.

When he notices you tiring down, he easily flips the position so that you’re under him. All that’s going through his head is how good you make him feel.

“Luffy… fuck… so good…” you moan out loudly, unable to even make a proper sentence.

He snaps his hips faster and rougher as time progresses. He’s pounding into you so hard that the bed starts creaking and the headboard slams against the walls.

But those sounds are nothing compared to the noises the both of you are making. You have resorted to repeating his name like a mantra along with profanities here and there, while Luffy grunts and moans to your ears, sometimes telling you how amazing you feel.

All too soon, you’re clenching against him so tightly as you climaxed. This brings out a more brutal pace from Luffy as he starts chasing his own high. And when he releases his load in you, you almost shudder at the feeling.

When Luffy pulls out, he notices your juices leaking out of you. And before you can even comprehend what he’s planning, he starts licking.

Your breath hitches from the stimulation, but Luffy doesn’t stop until you’re completely clean.

And when he’s done, he’s grinning widely at you.

“Luffy, that’s…” you start to say, but you didn’t know what word or words you’re supposed to use. Hot? Sexy? Best fuck you’ve had in a while?

Before you can even come up with what to say however, Luffy tells you, “That was fun! We should do that again!”

#one piece scenario #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece scenarios #one piece luffy #one piece lemon #one piece smut #luffy lemon #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece imagine #op luffy #luffy smut #straw hat luffy #mugiwara no luffy

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artzee-bee · 3 years

Text

End of all things [1] | Chat Noir x witch!reader

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug (Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir)

Summary: Y/N had been Chat Noir’s friend and moral support for a long time now. Even though she had magical powers too, she never liked getting involved with akuma attacks, but now, as Hawkmoth’s gotten control of the miraculous of creation, she couldn’t stay indiferent anymore. She had to save her friend and Paris!

Genre: Mostly angst? A little fluff

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death/dying

A/N: This was requested, but as I was writting it, it got very long and I’ve decided to post it in 2 parts. I’m not gonna post the request just now, so as to not spoil the rest of the story but Part 2 will be coming out on friday!!!

Part 2

~~~

Chat was pacing around the room, waiting for you to be done with your potion. You had heard from your parents that there had been a new akuma attack today, but as the news reported, the two parisian heros took care of the problem in no time. For this reason, Chat’s presence at your house felt unusual. Normally he would stop by when he needed to rant, when he was in need of comfort and reassurance but the fight today went well, so what could possibly be bothering him?

“Ok, I’m done” you said, screwing the cap on the little bottle and placing it on your shelf “Wanna talk?” you asked, to which Chat gave you a shy smile

“Yeah, a little”

You made your way to your bed, motioning for him to follow you. You got under your covers and passed him his favorite plushie, a cat to no one’s surprise

“So what’s up? Is it about the fight today?”

“Well no it’s more like a...personal problem?”

“Oh…”

“Claws out” in a rush of light and electricity, the infamous hero vanished before you, transforming into Adrien Agrest

“Well, what is it?”

Adrien revealed his identity to you months ago. You first met him as Chat, but when you really got to know each other, he decided you needed to know all of him. Well, he needed you to know all of him.

You listened to him rant until way past midnight. Until you were both too tired to stand up straight, so you laid down in your bed, covers up to your necks, muffled stories told in between yawns. You listened carefully, giving him your full attention. He fidgeted with the collar of the stuffed toy and you used your magic to make 2 hot chocolates. Eventually, everything that needed to be said, was said. You offered Adrien to watch a movie, since that always cheered him up, but he refused

“It’s late and I have a photoshoot early in the morning. My makeup team will be angry with my dark circles anyways, better not make it worse” he joked

Adrien transformed back into Chat and you cast a safety spell on him, which you did every time he left your house late at night. He always teased you about being ‘too protective’, but deep down he found it sweet how much you cared and wanted to know that he would get home in one piece.

“Night Chat” you said, wrapping your arms around the hero

“Good night Y/N!”

The next few days went by quietly. You hadn’t run into Adrien at all, but you texted a bit back and forth. Sunday evening however, things took a toll for the worst. You turned on your tv, ready to catch up with your show when you heard Nadja Chamack’s voice doing the news report

“It seems as though Rena Rouge and Chat Noir are struggling to stay on their feet! They have taken shelter under a fallen bus, leaving Ladybug alone to defeat Hawkmoth'' your pulse skyrocketed. As you watched the screen you could see Chat and Rena off to the side, struggling to catch their breath. Rena seemed to be in pain while Chat was trying to help. Ladybug was using her yoyo the best she could in order to protect herself from the supervillain, who was wielding his cane like a sword over her head. The fight was clearly going in Hawkmoth's favour! You grabbed your jacket and ran out the front door and onto the empty streets of Paris, towards the Eiffel Tower, where the fight was taking place.

People screamed at you from their balconies to go home, warning you about the fight and the danger you were putting your life in but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how they needed you. Chat needed you! Every late night talk and every inside joke shared between you two replaid in your head like a broken record. Behind Chat’s tough mask, his alter ego of hero and protector, was the fragile figure of Adrien Agreste. The young blonde boy who cried during romantic comedies, who liked to have his hair braided and forgot how to speak when someone complimented him. If you didn’t help, the heros would loose and he would most likely die! Alongside Ladybug and Rena who, even though you didn’t know their real identities, were still young girls. As you ran down the street, you heard kids crying inside one of the homes. You ran past but at the last second you heard Nadia’s voice coming from their tv

“Ladybug was akumatized”

You approached the Eiffel tower from the side, where you could see everything going on. In front of the tower, right next to Hawkmoth, stood Marinette Dupain-Cheng, dressed in a tight, dark red suit, darker than Ladybug’s. Black butterflies replaced the dots of the heroine's suit and the purple butterfly mask of Hawkmoth’s control was shining over her face. Marinette was Ladybug! She did, in fact, get akumatized. On the other side, you saw Rena and Chat, struggling to stay up right. They were obviously in a lot of pain and extremely tired, but Hawkmoth was merely mocking them.

“After all this time” Chat spoke up, but his breaths were shallow and rapid “I thought you’d know one thing about us! We don’t give up without a fight. Never will. Especially not against you” and with that, the two ran at each other.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, you know?” he said “We don’t have to fight to death. I wouldn’t want to have that on my conscience. All you have to do is give me your miraculouses willingly. The town will be safe, you will be safe! It’s the most heroic option you’ve got. You won’t be any good to Paris if you are dead”

You knew this was not just another fight between them. This was it. Either the heros won or everything they’ve worked for would be lost. Hawkmoth would win and get his hands on both miraculous and god knows what kind of destruction that would bring not only upon Paris, but the world. You focused all your energy in one spot in the air, right between where Chat and Hawkmoth were supposed to clash but before they could reach each other, you sent a wave of energy that blew both of them apart, like a bomb. Hawkmoth flew back into the Eiffel tower while Chat hit the pavement with a thud. Confused and certainly disturbed, both of them began looking around for an answer as to what happened when, finally, Hawkmoth’s eyes landed on yours.

“Aha, miss Y/L/N. What a spectacular honor to finally meet you!” you didn’t reply, instead you stood tall, maintaining eye contact

“I know a lot about you. Seen a lot. Felt a lot of your emotions. None of them can compare to the powers I’ll have with the two miraculouses. With Ladybug’s earrings and the guardian under my control, I’d say my mission here is almost over’’

“Y/N get back!’’ Chat screamed but you were too involved now to run. This was your fight too.

“It is time you give up Hawkmoth. Paris is not yours, neither are the miraculouses. We will destroy you, no matter what it takes!”

“Listen to yourself, kid! <<Destroy me>>? The most you can do is pull a rabbit out of your hat…” before he could finish his sentence, you snapped your fingers in his direction and instantly, the ground around beneath Hawkmoth and akumatized Marinette, fractured. From within the cracks, many tangled plants came out, encapsulating the 2 villains. You sprinted towards Chat and Rena, ignoring the signs of struggle coming from the prison of weeds.

Alongside the two superheros, you hid inside a corner coffee shop, which was now empty.

“Y/N, you need to leave!! You are putting yourself in too much danger!” Rena told you, as she collapsed to the ground from exhaustion

“Stop with that already! I am here and I’m not going anywhere!”

“Yes you are!” Chat looked at you. His voice was calm and yet, his eyes were filled with disappointment “You are not a superhero. This is our job!”

“You need help”

“No we don’t!” Chat had never, in all your years of friendship, raised his voice at you, let alone yell “ You need to stay safe! You could die! Hawkmoth doesn’t care about anything if it helps him get what he wants! I am ready to take that risk. Rena is too” you both turned to the red headed hero, only to see her slowly nod “But I can’t allow you to take it”

“You can’t tell me what to do”

“I don’t want you to die!” he screamed again “I love you and I will never forgive myself if you don’t come out of this alive!”

Before you could say anything, you saw Hawkmoth and his minion, through the cafe window, cutting through the last of the plants and escaping your trap. You grabbed Chat’s arm and pulled him to the floor, from where you could not be seen

“We’re in this together now” you said in a stern voice, looking the blonde kid right in his eyes “Whether you like it or not '' this time, he simply nodded.

You stuffed your hands into the pocket of your jacket and pulled out 3 little bottles, containing a mate, green liquid. You had prepared one for each of the heros, now you’d only need two.

“Here, drink this!” You handed each of them one “Regeneration potion. Should put you back on your feet.” as soon as they finished drinking the brew, you could see color coming back to their faces

“Where’s Marinette’s akuma??”

“Her necklace” replied Rena “It’s a gift from her kwami”

“Got it. You deal with Hawkmoth. I’ll bring Marinette back!”

Chat and Rena exited through the front door, grabbing Hawkmoth’s attention. He called out to Marinette to attack, but before she could take a single step in your direction, you had snuck up behind her. Using a simple invisibility spell, you managed to exit unnoticed behind the two heros. It finally felt like the fight had truly begun. From the corner of your eye you could see Chat and Rena doging Hawkmoth’s attacks while you, were doing your best to get your hands on the stupid necklace! Even though she couldn’t see you, Marinette seemed to almost always know what your next move was. She would expertly block all your attack and would keep you an arm’s length away at all times. Finally, you had enough and in one swift motion, you pinned her back to your chest, ripping the necklace away. A wave of black and purple took over the both of you and when it vanished, all you were left with was a half unconscious Marinette in your arms. You dropped her to the ground slowly as she was coming back to her senses. You wanted to talk to her but your thoughts were driven away as you heard Chat scream bloody murder.

On the opposite side of the platza, you saw Hawkmoth rip Chat’s ring off his finger, forcing him to detransform. The exhausted figure of Adrien Agreste fell to the ground with a thud. Hawkmoth had, indeed, gotten his hand on both the miraculouses.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb x reader #adrien agreste #adrien agreste x reader #adrien agreste fluff #adrien agreste imagine #adrien agreste angst #chat noir #chat noir x reader #chat noir fluff #chat noir imagine #chat noir angst #rena rogue #marinette dupain cheng #ml ladybug

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oonajaeadira · 3 years

Text

If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

Rating: Mature.

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.

A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.

Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

_______________________________

You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”

“Hm.”

Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”

“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.

The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.

That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.

But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.

And you’re pretty sure you know why.

This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.

There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one.

There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.

It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing.

The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.

You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.

“You okay, Ez?”

“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”

You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night.

“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.

And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”

He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.

Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there.

He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.

And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.

So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.

It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself.

Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.

You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.

Or so you lied to yourself.

A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--

This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”

And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.

After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.

“What’cha reading, Ez.”

“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.

“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.”

You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”

“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”

“I see. What’s it about?”

“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”

“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.

“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”

You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--

What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.

“Read to me.”

Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”

“Read it.”

His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.

Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.

“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.

“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”

“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”

The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.

“You stop, I stop, Ez.”

“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”

“Then don’t stop.”

In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”

You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”

He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.

“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--

“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”

Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--

“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”

He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.

Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--

“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”

Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.

“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”

He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.

“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”

He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him.

There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm--

“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”

When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.

Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.

But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--

“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”

Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.

“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.

When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”

You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.

At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.

But not the same poem.

The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

And that’s it.

That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.

Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….

Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.

The book drops to the bedroll.

And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.

________________

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