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ahgasegotarmy116 · 10 days

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Do it for Him | Do You Even Love Me? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Voicing the thoughts that had been on your mind for so long leaves you broken and regretting every decision you've ever made. Pairing: Daughter in law reader x Father in Law Jungkook (Yändere) Word Count: 1.1k~ Warnings: An argument and some explicit language (kinda but not really) a/n: This is a hypothetical situation and is NOT what happens in the story. Oc and Jungkook don't end up together and I'll be writing another bonus chapter about how everything ends but this is simply a longer drabble that I just decided to make into a bonus chapter since I think some of you would be interested in reading it 😁 P.s. Requested by an annon 💜 (also written in one sitting so ignore any mistakes lol) Series Masterlist

"How was your day today?" I ask half heartedly, wondering if he'll actually speak to me like a human being today or skip to having sex again like he's done almost every time he's come to visit lately.

"It was fine but I don't want to talk about work since it looks like someone's been missing me huh?" he taunts, taking my want for interaction with him as a sign of an insatiable hunger he wishes I shared.

"I did miss you but I missed being with you, not just sex" I say, pressing on his chest to keep some space between us to show I'm serious and want to talk about this.

He stops and waits for me to continue but his eyes don't leave my body for a second.

"When I told you I loved you I didn't mean for our life to end up like this" I say, referring to the way we've been living for the past year.

"What's wrong? Did you need something else? You have my credit card and I told you before that you didn't have to ask me for anything. If you want it then get it. It's the least I could do for my beautiful Angel" he says while caressing my face but I take a step back, not letting him put me under his spell again.

"I'm not talking about money Jungkook. I'm talking about how I told you I didn't want to live as 'The other woman'. You told me you were going to get a divorce and let the children and I move in with you. Not just have you pop by at this separate house you have us living in" I say.

He turns around and heads to the kitchen, gulping down a glass of water and placing the cup down on the counter. "I told you I would take care of it" he growls out while leaning both hands against the sink, clearly not appreciating the topic of conversation when all he had been looking for was a quick fuck.

"You told me that a year ago and from what I've seen you've been lying to me this whole time. Have you even filed the papers? You know that neither of you love each other so what's the point of keeping this whole charade going?" I say, following after him and standing my ground, not letting him drop this.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to center himself so he won't blow up on me like he has in the past. "These things take time Angel, plus going through a divorce would make my company take a big hit and might ruin some of the relationships I've built" he tries to explain but I'm not having it.

"If your company is all you care about then maybe all of this was a mistake" I say, turning around to walk into my bedroom with him following lazily behind me.

"You know I care about you too Angel" he says, leaning in the doorway while I've decided to plot down on the bed, running my fingers through my hair and trying to figure out if any of this was a good idea.

From the looks of it to any outsider this whole relationship was bound to go up in flames sooner or later. My life wasn't supposed to be like this. Was I really that naïve to think that somehow things would change if we were actually together? Did I really think that he was capable of loving me too?

"No I don't know that. I know that you love my body and that you love having sex with me and the idea of being with me and stealing me away from your son but I don't even know if you actually love me. Y/n. Not Angel, not the mother of your children, not the daughter in law that you took advantage of, just me" I spout off everything that's been on my mind and I can see that he starts to more or less assess our relationship and I really hope I'm going to get the answer I'm hoping for.

"You knew who I was when you first met me. You knew who I was when you married my son and you definitely knew what you were getting yourself into when you left him to be with me. I'm not this loving and kind husband that you want me to be and deep down you know that too. Do I care about you? Yes, I do. Do I love you? I don't know. I don't know if I do and I don't know if I ever will and if that's not good enough for you then be my guest, say the word and we can end this right now" he says and every condescending word that falls from his lips is like a knife through my heart.

I choke back a sob as my eyes glass over leaving him rolling his eyes, clearly not having the patience to deal with this today.

"Seems like you've got some stuff to think about and from the looks of it I've got some business to attend to" he says, hinting at the headache it's going to be for him to go through with this divorce.

He strides over to the bed where I'm sat with my head down, trying and failing to hold back my tears and picks up my chin. "Just remember who you're dealing with Angel okay? It will make all of ours lives so much easier if you stop thinking that you can change me" he says, caressing my face again, driving the knife deeper.

"I am who I am and if you can't accept that then I think we have some hard decisions we'll need to make here" he says a wipes away a few of my tears before tapping underneath my chin twice and walking away.

"Where are you going?" I ask, getting up and following him out, my vision going glossy. "It seems you're not in the mood that I thought you might be in so I think it's best if I go. Give my love to the children" he says over his shoulder and walks out, leaving me speechless and beyond heart broken, mourning the life I had with his son all over again and missing the feeling of loving someone and being loved in return.

"What have I done?" I whimper, sinking to the floor and sobbing, wishing that I could take it all back. That I could start over and never get mixed up with this family no matter how in love I was with his son. I never knew that a love that was once so pure would be traded for one that is so devastatingly one sided, wrecking my life beyond compare and stealing what little pieces of me I had left.

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airas-story · 6 months

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Just a Kick

“Well,” Tony said, trying not to let his amusement get the best of him. “Say what you will about Peter, but subtle he is not. I think he wants us to date.”

Stephen glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “What gave it away?” He asked, tone dry. “The mistletoe a few weeks ago that was completely out of season? The three different staged dinners that, admittedly, took us two dinners too long to figure out? The time they locked us in a closet after having stolen my sling ring? The fact that they’ve now tried to shove us into a single room with only one bed despite the fact that I could literally portal us to our own rooms for the night without anyone the wiser?”

“We could do that,” Tony agreed, even though Peter had made them promise not to abuse portals. Apparently it was part of the ‘vacation experience’ and it was cheating if they just went home every night. Tony didn’t get it, but he’d gone along with it this far. He let out a little hum as he considered the situation. “Or, I suppose, we could just go along with it.”

“You kick,” Stephen muttered under his breath. “It is incredibly annoying.”

Tony had gotten used to Stephen knowing random things about him—about them, in the hypothetical situation that they happened—that Stephen should, by all rights, not have any way to know.

14 million timelines.

Tony didn’t know how Stephen had done it, wasn’t sure how Stephen was still sane.

Wasn’t sure how, after all that Stephen had to have seen, Stephen for some reason loved him. There was no way that Tony deserved that.

Personally, Tony blamed Stockholm Syndrome. Stephen had clearly been forced into Tony’s proximity for so long that he’d been tricked into it. And yes, he knew it didn’t work that way, but Tony thought it got the point across remarkably.

But however many timelines it had taken Stephen to fall in love with Tony… It had only taken this one for Tony to fall in love with Stephen.

He just wasn’t sure how to actually do anything about it. He wasn’t sure that Stephen would believe him if he did, for one. And, perhaps more importantly, a part of him worried that his love could never measure up to Stephen’s own.

He would try. Hell, he’d try. He’d try to do right by Stephen. But the fear lurked. What if Tony wasn’t enough?

Such thoughts clearly didn’t plague Peter who clearly thought that he and Stephen were perfect for each other.

“Well, wouldn’t want to kick you,” Tony said easily, trying to hide his gut reaction. “Just open me up a portal to my place. We can deal with Peter tomorrow.”

The words were supposed to come out casual, but something must have slipped because Stephen eyed him curiously.

“Do you want to share a bed?” he asked, sounding uncertain. Uncertain didn’t suit Stephen.

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. The truth was that, yes, he sort of did. But he also wasn’t sure what that would do to their relationship. Would it progress things faster and further than Tony was ready for?

Would he be giving Stephen promises that he couldn’t possibly live up to?

He knew he wasn’t good enough for Stephen. Did he want to give Stephen the false hope that Tony might someday be?

Stephen’s brow furrowed and Tony realized he’d been silent too long.

“Yes,” he admitted. He ran a hand through his hair before throwing caution to the wind. “I do want to share a bed with you. I want to do a lot of things with you, actually. The sort of things that Peter wants us to do. Like hold hands. And kiss. And sleep together, both platonically and not. And you know… uh, fall in love with you.”

Stephen’s mouth dropped open just slightly. Clearly he hadn’t expected for Tony to go all out like that. Well, Tony had always lived to surprise.

“Except,” Tony continued. “It can’t be perfect, because apparently I kick in bed, and maybe that’s a sign of other things. That maybe I’ll metaphorically ‘kick’ if I try to love you.”

“You…” Stephen shook his head. “You sound ridiculous, you know that, right? Are you really suggesting that because you kick in your sleep you’re incapable of loving me?”

“I’m just saying that maybe it’s a sign.” He looked away. He sounded like an idiot and he knew it. But the point stood. “You love me.” Stephen didn’t deny it. They were far past that. “And I just… I don’t know if anything I give you can ever match that.”

Stephen huffed out a breath, shaking his head. He waved his hands and then suddenly he was in his pajamas instead of his many layers of sorcerer garb. Tony felt his mouth go dry. Stephen looked… well, he always looked good, but he looked soft and approachable in the soft, worn white t-shirt and comfortable looking lounge pants. “You’re an idiot. Now get into your pajamas and get in bed.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yes,” Stephen said. “You admitted you love me. You added a whole bunch of nonsensical commentary about somehow not being enough for me that I’m choosing to ignore until we’re both less tired. But the essence is that you love me. Since that’s true, I don’t see why we’re still dithering about this.”

Tony stared at him, searching for the right words.

Somehow he still surprised himself. “Alright.”

If Stephen was going to make it that simple… Well, Tony could accept it. For now, at least, until they had that discussion they needed to have.

Stephen waited until Tony was comfortable in the bed before wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. “I love you, Tony,” he murmured, breath warm against Tony’s skin. “Even when you kick.”

#ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #fic #love confessions #sorta #one bed trope #matchmaking #Peter ships it #longer than intended #as always

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maokomi · 1 year

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ᥫ᭡ Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

.ೃ࿔*:･「𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬.」 gn reader, sweetheart boyfriend Childe, modern AU, gooey lovey-dovey feelings, established relationship

Inspired by, of all things, a hypothetical situation presented by my Philosophy professor. So thanks, sir Louise.

You step out of the airport terminal, gaze fixed on your phone. Around you, people bustle past you and your luggage like a river around a stone. Some grumble and give you stink eyes for being too slow, but you pay them no mind, one string away from snapping.

“Damn it,” you grumble, fiddling with your phone and the taxi-booking app you’ve got open. There’s urgency and annoyance behind the force in which you jam your fingers against the screen, scowling down at the ‘Fully Booked! Please wait a moment’ that’s been flashing across your screen in garish red letters for the past five minutes.

It’s too fucking early for this— the sun is barely over the horizon, and you can practically hear the entire community waking up with a groggy yawn. You’re tired from the flight, hungry, jet lagged and frankly you just want to meet your boyfriend at home and take a long, long nap and waste the morning away. But apparently the rest of these sleep-deprived travelers also have a similar goal— and they’ve even beaten you to the commute, too.

You don’t give up for another few minutes, frantically refreshing the app in hopes that your luck will turn around, but no dice. With a defeated sigh, you jam the phone back into your pocket, a hand reaching to your temple to soothe the incoming headache. All it takes is a few seconds for you to resign yourself to your fate of having to take the overcrowded bus back home. Hopefully the archons smile down on you and you get to sit beside someone decent. Not someone overly interested in getting your number. Or a person who spends the entire ride back on their phone, obnoxiously yelling into their device. You shudder. With the way your morning is going, it’d be just your luck that that’s exactly who you end up beside.

Not for the first time, you let yourself think about calling Childe to pick you up, but you quickly chase the thought away.

It’s tempting. So, so tempting.

He’s probably in bed right now, warm under the covers. He’d probably recognize your specific ringtone, would pick up in a heartbeat even if he’s half asleep. And you already know that he’d half-heartedly whine about it being so early in the morning, even if you both know that he’s already pulling on some going-out clothes and looking for his car keys.

Childe would drop everything and anything if you ask, which is exactly why you don’t want him picking you up. Because, if your past calls are anything to go by, he’s been having a rather rough week himself, and you’d rather brave a packed bus and motion sickness than willingly pull him away from some well deserved rest.

Thoughts of your boyfriend, happily enjoying his day off steel your resolve, and with a resolute nod to your head, you begin to turn to the airport bus stop.

Then a whistle cuts through the air and —like some fucking drama— it’s as if the crowd parts and Childe, all bed-headed and grinning, is leisurely jogging up to you.

All you can do at first is stare at him in surprise because what the fuck you must be more tired than you thought, you’re actually full-on hallucinating now.

But Childe easily comes over, one hand immediately going for the handle of your luggage, the other wrapping around your middle. He pulls you into a one-armed hug, pressing a soft, fond kiss to your forehead and wow there is no way this is a hallucination.

“Hey sweetheart.” Childe grins at you when you pull away to look at him, almost looking amused at how bewildered you are.

And you, ever so jet lagged and exhausted, can only managed to say: “You… you’re here. Uh. Hi.”

“Hey.” You can practically hear the grin in his voice. For good measure, he plants a kiss on your nose. “What, you really thought I wouldn’t be able to come pick you up? Didn’t know you think so little of me, babe.”

You splutter, not even able to form proper words aside from the occasional ‘Wh—‘ that you manage to get out.

“Your google account is still logged in on my phone,” Childe says to your unverbalized question. He shrugs apologetically as begins gently leading you in the direction he came, a hand guiding you at the small of your back. “Didn’t mean to snoop, I swear, but when the email with your flight details came in I saw the time and had a feeling you were planning to hoof it without telling anyone. Which, by the way—“

He pinches your side. Not enough to hurt, but you yelp at the surprise of it.

“—not super smart when you have a very willing boyfriend with a car ready to pick you up at the drop of a hat.”

You sigh, jabbing him back with an elbow, but all he does is grin wider. “You said you were tired! I didn’t wanna drag you out of bed or anything.”

“Well then consider me very willingly leaving the bed of my own volition, then.”

You roll your eyes, about to voice another argument that is more just for petty, affectionate bickering than actual argument, when Childe pauses and pulls you close, silencing you with a kiss to the crown of your head. You can feel the fond grin he wears.

“Missed you, sweetheart. Let’s get you home, then we can both go back to bed, okay?”

#swan feathers ♡.ೃ࿔*:·#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #childe

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gildedphoenix · 1 month

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EctoParasites - Acceptance

I've started a new fic and posted a little blurb and got a decent response so I'm going to start posting unedited chapters/scenes. Hoping that the sweet sweet dopamine will also motivate me to KEEP writing. So here's some good-mom Maddie Fenton and her sweet obsessed Ghost son.

Gotham U Acceptance Letter

“Mom! I got accepted! I got the scholarship! With a full ride! They loved my submission. remember the competition they ran for the ISS for experiment submissions and I told you all about the way that the Zone acts a lot like the minimal gravity of space and how that really messed with my proprioception when I first started spending long spans of time in the zone and then coming back? So I thought that maybe it might be an issue for the astronauts too! So I submitted that thought, but you know, leaving out the stuff about the Zone because that’s not really common knowledge, I just reframed it as a hypothetical situation, so I proposed some exercises that the astronauts could do on earth, and then - Are you listening mom?”

Maddie nodded as she continued recalibrating an ecto-gun to be a little more non-lethal. “Yes, dear. I remember you telling me all about it. What did the Wayne Enterprises Scholarship board say about the idea?” She looked up from the blaster briefly to see that Danny was pacing back and forth about 4 inches off the ground. Even though they now knew about his powers, Danny still defaulted to trying to hide his powers. He just….got worse at it. Being able to unmask had made a huge difference in his mental health but the mask couldn’t quite be put all the way back on anymore.

“Oh yeah. I couldn’t remember if i’d told you. But yeah! They loved it. I actually got a response letter from one of the Canadian astronauts. Chris Hadfield? He's done a lot of the elementary school kids’ experiments and he usually films them and uploads them to ViewTube. His channel is super popular. Him. I got a letter from Hadfield that is was really well thought out experiment and he’s going to personally do it along with a couple others who are scheduled to go up on the next trip, I’m gunna frame that letter. It’s going on my wall forever. He didn’t say when that was.” Danny had continued his pacing around the lab. He had been just phasing through the tables in his excitement but after knocking over phase proof equipment about 7 times, he was now pacing above the tables. “and. um… Oh yeah, the scholarship! They loved it and the scholarship board is going to send over the enrollment paperwork for Gotham U and then all the stipulations and conditions of the scholarship. I’ve gotta keep at least a 3.2 average or I’ll lose my scholarship and-”

Danny’s voice went quieter as he started mumbling to himself and Maddie just shook her head. She’d reel him back in before dinner time but for now he was just happily spiraling, both mentally and physically near the ceiling.

#dpxdc #EctoParasites #my writing #Good parents AU #No vivisection #why is that tag even needed #reveal gone right #Danny living his best space dreams #if you see a typo #no you didn't

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saltysaltdog · 7 months

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This wasn't made for Megasound week, but in honor of it, here's a fic:

The fear comes baked in.

1700+ words.

Megatron laughed.

"Still spying on him, Soundwave?" He sauntered up behind him. "Oh, what's he doing now? Oh I see, yes I see your point," he mocked with feigned sincerity, "eating a bagel is highly suspicious behaviour. Keep your eyes on him. This one's tricky."

Soundwave shrugged him off and Megatron cackled again.

"Megatron: suddenly unaware of the risks he poses."

"Not unaware, no. Anyone can pose a risk at any given moment, you and I know that best. But I find it ridiculous that you're spending your efforts on this and not something more beneficial."

"My efforts are not wasted."

"If you say so, Soundwave. If you find the idea of risking your minicons to spy on an archivist stuffing his face worthwhile I will have to believe you." Megatron swung himself into the little alcove on top of the shelves and made himself comfortable on the bunk.

"Megatron's lack of caution will prove deadly. A better solution is to doubt everyone. Even those you think you can trust."

Megatron's breath caught for a second and thinking he'd been sufficiently warned, Soundwave turned back to watch Orion Pax in what the bot thought was a completely private corner, stuffing his face with a chalky bagel. Quite literally, as the food item was bigger than his entire helm and it made his cheeks puff out to accommodate chewing it. The scene was rather undignified for someone of his status.

"Have you ever considered that fear isn't just a consequence of functionalism, but a feature?"

This time it was Soundwave's turn to pause. He turned to look at Megatron, who gazed at him with no judgement, no spite for having challenged him; but with a stare that met him as his equal and wanted his opinion.

"Clarification needed."

Megatron hummed in that way he did when he was trying to compose a thought he'd never needed to put into words before. Soundwave hadn't heard it in a while.

"Say I am a low caste labourer," Megatron propounded, without irony. "I have an issue with my boss, my job, or any higher status cohort. Let's say I take this issue to them directly and they lash me to near death for it. Naturally I would hesitate to bring a similar issue forward ever again."

"Affirmative."

Megatron was quiet for a long moment.

"I need to reframe my argument," Megatron declared. "I made my hypothetical situation too assertive. Let's say my issue was them asking me to do something for them, like I was their servant. The outcome remains the same upon my refusal." Megatron waved his hand idly, a gesture he only did when he felt embarrassed by a mistake.

Soundwave dutifully nodded and said nothing.

"Now, with that in place: let's say that story and others like it constantly circulate the datanet. What would you expect an average worker to do when presented with a similar scenario."

"Acquiesce."

"Right? It's the safest thing to do. Now let's give the chance of this happening in reality an extremely low probability, as in, only one out of ten thousand people would ever commit violence. Even if the rest of society abhorred the behaviour and the perpetrators went to prison, the fear would remain."

Soundwave nodded.

"And without ever intending on lifting a finger, the higher castes have access to free labour from anyone of lower caste."

"Fear: a powerful tool," Soundwave agreed.

"It goes further than that," Megatron smirked grimly. "Perhaps they, the higher castes, are ignorant of the choice being made altogether. They are just asking for an innocent favour. After all, who would risk informing them? Even if all the low caste mechs stopped risking whatever scenario was most prevalent it would only be a matter of time before a new one arose; then the next."

Megatron had his hands behind his head now, bouncing his leg as he stared at the ceiling.

"Eventually there would just be a wall of fear between the two groups, with the lower caste bearing all the burden from it. And if that's the case, naturally you'd assume everyone was functionalist, and if you were targeted by that one out of a thousand, how could you imagine asking any high-caste bot for help: How could you imagine your case to be the one taken seriously when this was probably happening to everyone?"

"Soundwave: wouldn't trust anyone." He wasn't admonishing himself for it, it was just a fact.

"Yes, and that's just how insidious it is. It's logical, reasonable even. Especially if in our fear we keep our oppressor ignorant, they probably wouldn't see the issue at first and give the mistaken impression that they are just the same, even if they would never act the same way.

"If they cannot be warned, they don't know and cannot learn, they cannot recognise or act. And if they do not act, then the offences continue unhindered and functionalism goes unimpeded."

"And Megatron is certain that the probability is low." Soundwave asserted eye-contact, meeting Megatron's firm gaze again.

"They're too cowardly to even attempt it," Megatron said darkly. "Oh I have no doubts the majority fantasise about obedience or inflicting violence, but acting it out is beyond them."

Megatron held up a hand, stalling Soundwave's argument. "They don't have the reinforcement required. I'm sure if a room full of people was demanding it or if they knew nobody would ever find out, they might, but by themselves, they wouldn't know how to crack a whip and the potential reward isn't worth the attempt to learn. It's a fantasy, nothing more."

Soundwave stared at him while he tapped his finger and popped up a blank data-net search page.

"If everyone who spat slag on the net went out and did something we'd be seeing far more Iaconian labourer frames getting smelted."

He had a point.

"Megatron: will not make Soundwave like Orion Pax. He's a liability."

"So is everyone else who roams the gladiatorial pits." Megatron slid off the bunk finally and leaned on Soundwave again. "If you believe it's worth watching him on his lunch break I'll believe you," Megatron intoned his voice with something Soundwave didn't dare name. "But…" his claws played with his plating, "at least let me make fun of you for it."

Soundwave jerked his elbow back and Megatron laughed as he dodged it.

"Megatron wants to prove his theory with Pax: foolhardy. Orion Pax: ignorant, indoctrinated, indecisive."

"I don't need him to prove that the higher castes can be more than just functionalists." He stepped around to stand in front of him and put his hand on his plating: Sincere.

"I have you."

Soundwave froze, his spark spinning wildly.

"We both know what you look like under all your minicon attachments, Soundwave. If I never gave you a chance I wouldn't be able to put these kinds of things into words. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"Incorrect: Megatron would have."

He chuckled, a new type of laugh, one that perhaps even expressed a certain fondness.

"You have more faith in me than I do myself, Soundwave. As always."

And there it was, what he didn't dare name Megatron did with ease.

He took advantage of Soundwave's silence and stepped even closer, leaning forwards to rest his helm on his shoulder. It was an action that left him vulnerable not only at the neck joint, but his very spark.

Megatron didn't presume to put his arms around him and Soundwave had to do it for him, suffering his warmth in the sweltering heat of Kaon.

"You don't have to believe the same things I do, Soundwave. I've always granted you that," Megatron said as he pulled back. "But get back to me on your thoughts on this, won't you?"

Soundwave nodded and Megatron returned to the bunk to rest.

Soundwave fixed his attention to Orion Pax again and tried, for a moment, to view him as Megatron must. A rather naive but particularly privileged bot who'd gone out of his way to find the largest bagel he could. Who had the sense to leave the workforce area to eat it, but not enough to rip it into smaller bite sized chunks.

Truly, a great use of resources, he thought snidely.

"Cease surveillance mode," he conceded.

Lazerbeak's wings fluttered before the minicon swooped down, squawking and startling Orion Pax into dropping his chalky bagel. Said bagel was then snatched up and Lazerbeak fled the scene.

Megatron laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bunk and quickly had to fix himself.

He ended up falling anyway with a mighty crash.

"Uhgh, stop laughing, Soundwave. It's not funny." He said, displaying the uncanny ability to tell exactly what Soundwave felt without any visual or audio cues.

"I believe it was," he teased back.

Perhaps on a smaller, more flexible faceplate the twitch Megatron displayed would have been a pout. Soundwave enjoyed the reaction anyway.

He didn't trust Orion Pax but Megatron was right: Fear was driving him to behave unreasonably. There were better targets in Iacon and more important tasks for him to directly supervise. He didn't need to follow Orion Pax on every lunch break: this wasn't going to bring any certainty to the issue.

He allowed Lazerbeak to flee with the ill-gotten snack and terminate the livestream.

"Ah, Soundwave. Orion just messaged me. Apparently-" Megatron cackled and Soundwave could guess what it said.

—

Years later, Soundwave observed Breakdown's new eyepatch with something approaching guilt. Statistically: the chance of Breakdown trying to desert had been higher than him being captured. Those stats had since been recalibrated.

It was at times like this, when mistrust led to the wrong conclusion, that Soundwave thought back on that conversation.

If he'd continued on his path, if he had obtained evidence and proved to Megatron that Orion Pax couldn't be trusted, what would have become of them?

But then, if he hadn't believed in Megatron words that day he knew he wouldn't have followed him after. That was a fact.

The thought sequence had no business existing since it always came to the same conclusion. But even so he missed the idealism their cause, Megatron, held back then.

It was something Soundwave was incapable of replicating for him.

#transformers #megatron #soundwave #megasound #megasoundweek #maccadam #aligned continuity #tfp #this was going to be attached to another fic thats not done #maybe one day ill remember ao3 exists and suffer through formatting #not today though!

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fairys-dream · 3 months

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"They're given a 4 day special pass. And Creed has a plan on how to most efficiently spend it."

EVERYBODY WAKE UP CHAPTER 3 IS FINALLY OUT smut happens. emotions happen. things? happening.

i also slightly rewrote chapter 1 cuz i realized i got the interior of the truck wrong lol...its still mostly the same tho.

read it under the cut too if u want⤵️⤵️⤵️

A 4 day special pass.

And it was just gonna be Creed ‘n Logan.

North was off on a special mission, Fox was off doing God knows what, nobody gave a enough of a shit about Wraith to hangout with him, and Logan had this new thing goin’ on where he actually bothered to think about Creed's intentions instead of just jumpin’ straight to evil conclusions.

He had 4 days... to make this guy fall head over heels in love with him.

Ideally.

Should probably start with gettin’ him back as a friend first.

At least it was better than the regular 3 day pass. 4 days might actually give him a genuine bonafide chance at pulling this off.

It’s now or fuckin’ never.

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Logan could feel Creed was planning something.

Sure, he was a bit clingy sometimes, but he didn’t usually hang around to this extent.

As the 1st day of the break began, Logan went through his regular daily routine. He could sense Creed hovering in the background, just out of view, for everything he did.

The 2nd day, Creed actually showed his face, occasionally helping with little things in Logan’s routine, like it was normal for him.

3rd day was much of the same thing, Creed hanging around, except he was now blabbin’ on about anything and everything. A mix of bragging about old op missions and a seemingly endless amount of film trivia. Every so often, Logan would reply if he brought up something that interested him, but he mainly just listened.

He didn't mind listening, though.

He thought it'd be annoying, but this seemed sort of…familiar to him.

That evening, Creed was out for a bit, so Logan had some time to himself.

He spent it trying to peace together his emotions from the past couple ‘o days. The emotions he’d been reading from Creed, they felt new. But also felt oddly normal. Like a part of him recognized the way he was acting, and had just been blocked off till now.

Soon, Creed returned with a bottle of fairly expensive alcohol, and shared it with him in the kitchen. Not many words were exchanged between them, but that didn’t bother Logan in the slightest. It felt good not drinking alone for once.

Come the 4th day, it felt like they'd always done this.

As it came to an end, Logan donned his leather jacket, one of the only things he owned to his name, and went out for his nightly smoke. Creed followed soon after.

He invited to take him out to a nearby bar. And as tempting the idea was, since Stryker basically kept him locked up like a house cat, Logan declined.

So, they trekked out deep into the woods that surrounded the base.

The 2 of them sat on the damp ground, passing a cigar back and forth.

Logan wondered who’d been the last person he shared a cigar with, if he ever did. He got the notion something like this was a fairly rare situation for him.

Even long after the cigar had been finished, they both stayed seated, and got to talking about each of their hypothetical fantasies regarding what they'd do after all this.

Logan didn’t remember much of where he came from, so he described where he would like to live.

“A cabin, rustic and wooden, somewhere deep in the mountains of northern Canada.”

“Why Canada? ”

Logan shot him a look.

“Cuz I’m Canadian? ”

“Right, right, keep forgettin’ that. ‘Ya just don’t seem like the canuck type…why a borin’ ol’ cabin, then?”

“Dunno, just feels familiar. Saw a picture in a calendar once, and I guess somethin’ in my brain felt like it clicked.”

“Heh, they really fucked ya up, huh pal?”

Logan gave a hard punch to the other’s shoulder.

“Unf- hey, I’m just joshin’. Sounds nice. Like a sweet little fairytale.”

A fairytale…right. That’s all it was.

Then, as Creed then started a long dramatic explanation about his own fantasies, some based on some crazy shit he claimed to have already done before, Logan felt his mood perk up again.

He hadn't remembered the last time he felt like this. Feeling so calm and...comfortable.

He'd never thought it were possible, but he’d found himself actually enjoying Creed's excessive company these last few days.

There’d been a change in the other feral, one he hadn’t expected, he might even-

Holy shit Creed was kissing him.

And holy shit, Logan found himself kissing back.

He felt he didn't even need to think about it, letting himself be lifted into Creed's lap, straddling his legs, getting comfortable against him.

Creed moved his head down to kiss and lick at his neck, sandpapery tongue lapping up the taste of his skin.

Logan shrugged off his jacket, feeling Creed’s hands immediately descend onto his back, claws pricking through his shirt as he caressed him. The attention was exhilarating. Logan didn’t know what to do with his hands in return, so he opted to grip at the others shoulders as he got lost in Creed’s never slowing touches.

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Creed's plan had worked.

Shockingly well.

His plans were always pretty good, but it was still a bit of an adrenaline rush that Logan was actually going along with it.

All it took was some researching and convincing the boss to put North out on a mission, and doing some slight threatening to Logan's fake girlfriend. She didn't even need that much talkin’ to, which honestly made him feel a little bad, knowing how Logan felt for her.

Only a little.

But then....

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Wolverine's body was shaking.

Badly.

He didn't deserve this. He didn't understand.

His mind went to Silver Fox. Her touches feeling forced, but Logan taking them anyway, just to have something .

He tried to think of past lovers, but couldn't remember. He remembered touches, but no faces to go along with the feelings. Were they even real?

Bottom line was, no one felt for him like this. So why should he trust that Creed was really feeling anything towards him?

Creed.

He's making fun of him. He's toying with him. No, it's pity.

"Logan, hey..."

lying lying lying lying lying-

"I can tell yer thinkin’ too hard about this."

The touches stopped. Creed's voice felt far away.

His instincts were screaming that there was something else he was doing. Something else he was planning. That he was manipulating him for some reason he hadn't come to realize yet.

Guys like Creed were supposed to go for pretty girls; legs, body, and attitude. Hell, even his taste in men should have higher standards for someone with a pretty face like Creed’s.

He wasn't supposed to like Logan. Not supposed to like a man like him.

But it was hard for Logan to doubt what his senses were picking up.

"Why? "

His voice sounded so small he was almost convinced it was someone else's.

Creed sighed, wrapping his large hands around Logan's shaking wrists, rubbing soft circles onto his palms with the pads of his thumbs.

Creed's hands felt warm.

And surprisingly soft.

Why the hell is he doin’ this fer me…

Creed wasn't the best at words when it came to explaining his emotions, but he had to give it a shot.

He couldn't keep assuming Logan knew what he was trying to say all the time.

"Cuz I like you."

Logan stared blankly at him.

"A lot."

The runts expression didn’t change.

"C’mon, say somethin'?... please? "

Logan stayed quiet.

But then, he sniffed.

Closer and closer, right up against Creed's neck, causing his breath to hitch at the feeling.

Logan pulled back, with a soft look on his face as he looked into Creed's eyes.

"You...actually like me."

Creed chuckled.

"Dang runt, who hurt ‘ya?"

"Dunno. Can't remember."

"Yeah, well, it ain’t gonna be me, alright? I mean it. I'm full truthin’."

Logan gave him a cocky look of disbelief.

Creed gave him his usual toothy grin in return.

"Yeah, well, emotionally I won't hurt ya. An' I don't gotta hurt ya physically all the time, I got more skills t’ offer than that…”

The blonde leaned in close, speaking in a low seductive tone.

“Could even make ‘ya feel pretty good. Physically. If yer up for it."

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Logan found himself leaning back against a tree, pants pooled around his ankles

With Creed down on his knees in front of him.

Creed was gently pressing his teeth down onto Logan's dick, giving little nips down its length, grinning ear to ear.

"My dick ain't a chew toy, bub."

Runt’s attitudes back. Good. Means he’s startin’ to calm down…

Creed removed his mouth, caressing his claws up and down the others length

"Yeah, you like it though. Can feel yer dick throb whenever I..."

He slowly grazed his teeth up from its base alllll the way to the tip, causing a full body shudder and drawn out groan from Logan, his hands gripping into the bark of the tree behind him.

Creed finally seized his playing and eased Logan's cock into his mouth, the tip pushing down his throat as he effortlessly swallowed the whole thing.

Logan breathed out a relieved moan.

Damn, either he’s had tons of experience or this guy simply lacks a gag reflex…

Though, Logan didn’t have much of one himself either, so there’s a chance it had something to do with their mutation.

Creed held it there...savoring it. The scent, the taste, the fact that it was Logan’s.

He then looked up at Logan, a wild look in his eyes. He took the other’s hand and placed it on the back of his head.

Logan, immediately getting the idea, pulled Creed's head back a bit in order to make space as he began rocking his dick back ‘n forth into Creed's awaiting mouth.

Creed relaxed as he let Logan take control.

He loved it when Logan took control. Only from him.

Only ever from him.

Clawed fingers groped and kneaded Logan's ass, the slight pain from their sharpness sending pleasurable tingles up his spine.

Creed's tongue swirled along with the thrusts.

God, that tongue is somethin’ else…how the hell is he doin’ that?

The blonde stared up at Logan, gaze never faltering, unable to look away from the reactions he was managing to pull from him.

He wanted to memorize every one of these pleasure filled expressions, every small twitch of his face. If they ever tried that memory erasing shit on him, he'd kill them.

No way in hell am I gonna lose this. Not again.

Logan's panting and thrusts sped up, now desperately jack hammering into Creed's throat.

A mix of drool and precum dripped down Creed’s chin as he continued to take it.

"nn... nggh.... fuck .... Creed .....grhh...ungh..."

The noises and growls Logan was making, overshadowing the sloppy obscene sounds of Creed's mouth getting railed, was like a sweet melody to Creed’s ears. He'd record a tape copy if he could. Maybe he would someday, if he got the chance. Logan's normal voice already made him feel all kinds of mushy things, but hearing him like this , hearing him let into the side of himself he tries so damn hard to keep locked up, it made Creed’s heart melt like butter.

"nghFUCK fuck fuck fuck.... please ...grrh CREED- more more- "

And made his dick hard as a rock.

Damn, it was so hard it startin’ to hurt .

Part of him wanted to see if he could climax just from the feeling of Logan's dick down his throat.

Yeah, a weaker man would be jacking off… and boy howdy was he the weakest man on the damn planet.

He'd prove that sappy stuff later, but right now he couldn't stop himself from pulling his neglected cock free.

The sight of Creed stroking himself with such ferocity, being so genuinely aroused by him, for him, pushed Logan to the edge.

Logan slammed himself down deep with a growling shout , gripping Creed’s hair and smothering his face against groin, which brought out a low groan from the other feral. He rode out the rest of his orgasm in close quick thrusts, gradually slowing down, as Creed’s hand sped up.

Creed's mouth slid to the tip of Logan's dick, panting heavily and lapping up the remaining drops of cum.

“F-UCK! ”

He let out a loud roar of a moan as he came.

“hah… Logan ….”

Their heavy breathing sounded harmonically together, both in a dreamy post orgasm haze.

Suddenly, Creed pulled Logan down, Logan dropping down fairly easily due to his legs feeling like pure jelly, and into his lap. Creed wrapped his large arms around him and nuzzled his face into Logan’s.

Then flopped them both down onto the ground with a thwump , pulling Logan close against him.

With his ear against Creed's chest, Logan could hear, and feel, a low rumbling...

Creed was purring.

Logan felt like purring himself, if he could.

Could he?

He tried replicating the sound-

Nope.

Hm. That weirdly disappointed him.

Meanwhile, Creed was thinkin’ about what to do next.

He'd just confessed his feelings and sucked him off, now what? Ask for his hand in marriage?

Nah, that'd be a dumb move to make so soon. Gotta keep goin’ with the small stuff.

"Feelin’ better?"

"This whole time you coulda been givin’ me mind blowing head instead of kickin' my ass?"

"Shit, am I gonna have to give one of those up? Not gonna let me keep both, are ‘ya?"

"Depends, how often wouldya be willin’ t’ suck me off?"

"Oh, anytime, just gotta ask. I'm at yer beck ‘n call, babe."

Logan laughed into his chest, Creed chuckling along with him.

‘S nice bein’ able to talk like this again…

Propping himself up on his arms, Logan looked down at Creed's content expression.

"Lemme think about it, alright?"

Those words made Creed's face immediately fade from joy to fear.

Shit. I’m losin’ him.

"Good thinkin’ or bad thinkin’?"

"...regular thinkin’."

Creeds hands shot up to grip Logan's shoulders

"Woah-"

"Logan. "

Logan struggled against his hold, and Creed instinctually tightened his grip.

"Why's it so hard fer you t’ like me?"

"Creed-"

"You used t’ fuckin’ like me, I KNOW ‘ya did."

Logan gave up on struggling, his shoulders sagging.

"Creed..."

"What the fuck do I have to do, Logan? What the FUCK do you want me t’ DO ?"

Logan let out an exhausted sigh.

"I do like ‘ya."

Creed stared at him, breathing hard. In his panicked state, he didn't really seem the most convinced.

"Look, there's somethin’ there, I’m just…I just ain’t...I ain’t sure-"

"God, ‘ya ain’t sure- "

"I ain't sure how to handle this yet! I don't know what I'm supposed t’ be doin’ either, alright?! This constant mind wiping is takin’ a bit of a big toll on my emotions, bub. Fer Christs sake , I don't know what I’m feelin’ half the time, and other times I know I should be feelin’ somethin but I ain’t. I don't even know if I wanna stay here or not."

He looked out at the woods surrounding them

"But it ain't like I got much of a choice, do I…"

Creed didn't know how to convince him to stay.

Didn't have the slightest clue on knowin’ where to even start.

But those words made him realize that if he wanted Logan to stay with him, then… Logan couldn't stay here.

Which meant they both couldn't stay here.

And just the thought of leaving his safety net terrified Creed.

Here, he could kill without consequence, show the animal without havin’ to worry, be free to let out all that constant never ending pent up anger and rage.

This is what he was good at.

What he was best at.

He'd been deemed a failure at everything else…he was safe to exist here.

He'd spent his whole life convinced that if he wasn't hurtin’ others, others would be free to hurt him. He wasn't safe out in the normal world. They were out for him even if he was doin’ nothin’.

Though maybe...if he had Logan around...Logan could be a safety net too.

He'd still be a freak,

But at least I'd be a freak with a friend.

He knew what he had to do.

But he was just gonna hold him for a bit longer.

Creed wrapped his arms around Logan, burying his face into the other's neck.

Just a little longer....

God, he was so freakin’ scared.

Creed’s breathing picked up.

He knew Logan could easily sense his fear...and for once, part of him felt good about him knowing.

Creed let out a shaky sigh, leaning in close to Logan’s ear to whisper–-

"...’m gonna get ya outta here."

Even outside the base, he couldn't be too careful about someone eavesdropping. Logan picked up on this, whispering back—

" Just me?"

"Both ‘o us. Hell, I can leave anytime I want, they don't suspect a damn thing from me. But I’m already riskin’ a whole lot gettin’ close to ‘ya again, an’ they're probably gonna be tight on yer ass as soon as this breaks over an’ done with."

"So…yer sayin’ it's now or never."

Creed loosened his embrace to comb a hand through Logan's hair.

"Yup, pretty much."

Logan breathed out a mix between a sigh and a laugh, letting himself relax again, slightly, in Creed's hold, trying to process the urgency of just what they were about to do.

Just a little longer…they could have some peace for just a little longer.

But, if they got lucky, they could get that peace for a lot longer.

#sabretooth #victor creed #wolverine #logan howlett #sabrevine #wolvertooth #team x #fanfic #my writing

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tearsoftime0086 · 5 months

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I've been thinking of a Piers extension of my AU in my mind, so here's a little scene! Warning for some self-dehumanizing language.

“He needs to discharge soon.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, eyes glued to the still figure on the other side of the one-way window. “How soon, and what happens if he doesn’t?” His voice rings eerily within the steel helmet – archaic and uncomfortable, but Piers refused to see him without it.

Rebecca takes a deep breath, skimming over the lightning rod sensors. The red needles jerk back and forth in synchrony with Piers’ labored breathing. “Optimistically, within the next half-hour. If the electric charge within the room goes too high, I’m worried the virus will go into a feedback loop.”

The enhanced C-virus had a nasty tendency to seek constant mutation - a combination of G and Veronica’s worst traits. If it found that its self-created environment was a threat to its existence…

Chris stops his thought there. No more hypotheticals – not when he could still do something to prevent them.

“I’ll do my best to convince him,” he says, fiddling with his clunky suit as he heads towards the vault door. His bulky gloves slip against the wheel lock – another annoying part of his makeshift Faraday cage. Realistically, it would be near useless in the case of a direct lightning hit. But that wasn’t the reason Chris wore it.

“Piers,” he speaks upwards as he walks into the intermediary corridor. Even here, he can hear the faint buzz of electricity beyond the second door. “I’m coming in.”

A long period of silence, then a scratchy, low whisper. “You’re protected?”

“To the nines,” he answers back smoothly.

The response is equally nervous as the one before. “Be careful, Captain.”

One step inside, and his hair is already standing on end. The air crackles and pops as Chris walks to the corner of the room. Piers has shifted back even further, webbed hands clutching his knees as he sits on his bed. His mismatched arms leave his shoulders at awkward angles. An attempt at penance, when he has done no wrong.

“How are you doing?” Chris asks, suit clanking loudly as he takes a seat next to him. Piers flinches and slides away.

“Why are you here, Captain?” he asks back, morosely refusing to look at him.

In any other scenario, Chris would’ve tried his damnedest to hold onto the small talk. Unfortunately, they’re on a timer; he shelves it as a future wish. “You need to discharge, Piers. Holding it all in isn’t good for you.”

A blue arc sparks through his exposed arm muscles. “I don’t trust the lightning rods,” Piers says.

“You know, I wouldn’t either,” Chris responds, much to Piers’ surprise. “You and I both know how the BSAA always skimps out on equipment. Not to mention the worst leftover rations.”

There’s a quiet gurgle from Piers’ throat. He immediately bites it down, but Chris chooses to believe he got a successful laugh out of him.

“But I made sure we didn’t skimp out this time. This whole vault’s geared up right, Piers. It’s okay,” he continues.

A shaky breath. “I don’t trust myself either.” The blue arc from before returns and spreads across Piers’ body, illuminating the outline of his skull with a haunted light.

“Piers-“

“Please… don’t call me that.” With visible effort, Piers turns to him, finally letting Chris his whole face. It’s considerably more human than it was upon his first retrieval, but he’d be lying if he didn’t notice the sallow and pulsating flesh marring his hollowed face. “I’m not- this thing isn’t Piers-“

“Bullshit,” is Chris’ first gut response – the part of him that angers and flares at the sheer unfairness of the situation. But that won’t help now – and so he takes a step back. “Sorry. What I mean is… you don’t have to be him. You just have to be you.”

The air crackles as Piers’ lip quavers. God, Chris hopes he’s not accelerating the process by doing this. “I don’t understand.”

“Guess it’s going against what you told me back then,” Chris mumbles at first, but it comes easier with every word. “But sometimes, there’s an order to things. If you don’t want to remember, if you don’t want to be- what I mean is, I care for the man I see in front of me today. And I just want the best for you.”

With a steady hand, he removes the metal helm, much to Piers’ dismay. It’s so much easier to see him now – to see the fine man he is and always will be.

“Please,” is all he says, and hopes it is enough.

#random musings #this was fun! hope i captured things alright my re6 knowledge is loose #but basically in this AU piers' version of the enhanced c virus took on some of the extremophile attributes of haos #and so he mutated underwater as a survival mechanism to be found later #my resident evil writing impetus is just 'ok but what if the infected characters didn't die' lol #bits and baubles #piers nivans #chris redfield #and a little bit of rebecca #written as platonic but it's up to the beholder!#what will piers do next? how will this AU unfold? will I continue this fic? who knows lol #resident evil #temporary brainworm tag

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antialiasis · 1 year

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Chess in Concert Quickfix

Apparently the Chess fandom likes to propose their own fixed versions of the script, incorporating songs from different versions and trying to arrange them in a definitive way. I haven’t seen or heard all the other versions, at least not yet (I may report back if I watch some bootlegs), but I can make a proposal on how I would briefly fix Chess in Concert - not to make a definitive version of Chess as such, so much as to just imagine a hypothetical version of this production’s story (which I do like okay in its basic beats) that would have worked better for me, personally.

My proposed changes are the following:

Keep “The Story of Chess” but fiddle with the lyrics to make the story of the princes something a little more analogous to the actual plot.

Cut “Merano” (but not “What a Scene! What a Joy!”). We can have the Arbiter announce the world championships are in Merano and just move straight from there to Freddie and Florence arriving.

Cut “The Arbiter”, “Hymn to Chess” and “The Merchandisers”. We don’t need any of this, just get to the chess match (after a brief spoken Arbiter introduction) immediately after “Difficult and Dangerous Times”, which was when I thought we were about to get to the chess match. If we want to make a jab about merchandising, it can be in brief spoken dialogue.

Also cut “The Arbiter (Reprise)” and move straight on to “Quartet (Model of Decorum and Tranquility)”.

After “Florence Quits” and “Pity the Child #1”, we add a song between Florence and Anatoly, where she seeks him out for support after leaving Freddie. It probably starts with a reprise of “This is the one situation I wanted most to avoid…”, and picks up on their connection after “Mountain Duet”, and its purpose is to make you actually give a damn. She’s there in emotional distress and Anatoly is sensitive and supportive, she probably vents about Freddie's toxicity, he expresses admiration for her courage in taking that step of just getting out of there, maybe she probes him on that and he confesses some of his feelings on being controlled and suffocated, she tells him he deserves to be free. Something like that. Tangible sense that they’re at ease around each other and able to comfort each other and make each other feel understood, generally make us believe in this romance damn it.

Instead we cut “Heaven Help My Heart”. Florence worrying he will get bored of her if he learns everything there is to know about her is just neither here nor there in this story and has nothing to do with how anything actually plays out.

We might even cut “Golden Bangkok”/“One Night in Bangkok”, too. It’s iconic and all, but narratively the only argument for including it is showing Freddie being here for chess and not any of the city’s other attractions, which is fun and does foreshadow his arc a little, in that it suggests he cares about chess, but it’s not essential and I’m really trying to tighten the narrative progression here.

“One More Opponent”/“You and I” one way or another get rewrites where we learn more about Anatoly’s feelings about Svetlana and his children and whether he’s actually torn about having left them behind or just wants to forget they exist. It’s honestly weird that we don’t ever hear a word about this from his point of view. Maybe Florence is frustrated he never talks about them and it comes out now that Svetlana is going to be there and she’s unsure whether it might mean Anatoly goes back to her after all, especially what with her trust issues. He doesn’t need to actually tell her outright, so long as we get something we can glean his feelings from. Get a sense of where his head is at with this.

Shorten “The Soviet Machine”, I don’t think I’d want to cut it altogether but it goes on for a while just kind of repeating itself. Do the first few verses through the “But we’re going to smash that bastard” reprise, then move on to a brief version of the slow bit about how their victory will be hailed.

We’re probably cutting “Someone Else’s Story” and instead maybe moving “I Know Him So Well” to its spot, before “The Deal (No Deal)”, which would mean Freddie gets that, “Pity the Child #2” and “Talking Chess” all in a row, which would be a good. I don’t hate “Someone Else’s Story” in a vacuum, but I’m kind of confused by why we’re having Svetlana now contemplating her desire to leave her husband who already ran off with another woman to a different country a year ago, I’m not sure that really contributes anything to the overall narrative even if it develops Svetlana a bit more (her role in the rest of the narrative is to try to get him to come back home to her!), and love songs written for one character getting transplanted to be sung by a different character entirely just go against my principles, insert everything I was banging on about regarding how romance ought to be specific to these characters and their relationship to mean anything. Mayyyybe some kind of version of “The Argument” from the concept album could be included before “I Know Him So Well”? But maybe the ground that would cover would be covered in the rewritten “One More Opponent”/”You and I”.

Probably make the progress of Anatoly and Viigand’s match more obvious. As it is we’re told it’s 1-1 at the beginning of Act II, with Anatoly having been distracted in the second match, but then we don’t hear about any chess until Freddie tells Anatoly in “Talking Chess” that he was 5-1 up and now it’s 5-5. So apparently Anatoly went back to a winning streak for a while after those first two matches and then started losing again? Would like to see that properly - probably him successfully shaking off the various distractions initially (this is why I thought of maybe including “The Argument”, where he’s insisting he has to keep his focus on the match), and that specifically prompts Molokov to resort to arranging to pressure him into outright throwing the game because they haven’t managed to rattle him into losing naturally as he insisted they could in “The Soviet Machine”.

“Endgame #1” can name a few champions to set the mood but then we just move on to “Endgame #2”. No sitting there listening to a list of names harmonized slowly for three full minutes. I’m sorry, I appreciate the mood-setting and the desire to acknowledge the champions, but we do not need this and we’re already about to acknowledge the champions.

“You and I - Reprise” gets some lyric rewrites to be a bit less generic oh I love you so much blah blah and address their specific situation and the issues we just saw them spilling in "Endgame #3/Chess Game #3" a bit more. (Also it should probably be clearer whether he’s actually returning to Svetlana or not.)

All told, at a very rough count, this hypothetical would tighten it up by about 20-25 minutes, cut the chaff at the beginning in particular, and hopefully make the romance easier to get invested in and the songs about it more meaningful, which are the main things I would want to fix about this production.

#musicals #chess musical #chess the musical #chess in concert

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jomiddlemarch · 1 year

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what it is to be a thin, crescent moon

Chapter 30

“Plausible deniability? Plausible deniability, Alina?” Aleksander said, his voice tight and the utter absence of any nickname or endearment was not lost upon her but she knew enough not begin with anything resembling an apology.

“Yes, those are the two words I just said, Sasha,” she replied, a little exasperated in spite of her resolve to remain calm. He’d been going on and on for the past half hour, hardly taking a breath. “I’m not sure if you are more offended by the former or the latter. You’ve made it clear you are offended. I believe they could tell that in Weddle. Perhaps on the Moon.”

“I am not offended, I am aghast,” he said. He was paler than he ought to be and she worried over it. It might have nothing to do with what had happened between them, he might have made do with a roll and a glass of tea instead of a proper dinner; he often did if they did not sit down for the evening meal together. He might have visited with his mother, which always left him drained. But it might be a consequence, unanticipated, of what had happened in the night or simply his anger. “You had no right—”

“It wasn’t as if I forced a bloody collar on you!” Alina retorted. “Nothing could happen unless you allowed it to, we made sure of that, before I agreed to try.”

“I’m angry you risked yourself, umnaya. You risked your life,” he said, breaking off, turning his face away from her.

“Not my life,” she said. “I told you, I explained.”

“I stand corrected. You didn’t risk your life, only your mind,” he said. “If you had been hurt, your mind damaged, I cannot, how could I—”

“But I’m fine. Perfectly fine. We can’t get bogged down in hypothetical scenarios that never happened and won’t ever happen,” Alina said, reaching out a hand to lay on his. He was trembling and she felt sick, the way she had felt all the time before they’d met and he’d revealed who she was. They were both quiet for a moment, turning their palms towards each other, the gesture a small communion, her Light and his Shadow matched as gloves.

“This entire situation was a hypothetical you allowed yourself to be immersed in,” he said. He sounded steadier, less incensed, with a hint of resignation like the bass note of a perfume. “I’d blame Togtuun except I know you won’t allow that, will see it as me making you a pawn when you are a queen.”

“Togtuun wouldn’t allow it either, though they’d probably only let you rant for a bit and then explain,” Alina said. “When we’re done with this, maybe you can tell me more about Togtuun and just exactly how they came to be here. What the deal is between the two of you, because I don’t get it.”

“When we’re done with this?”

“I didn’t say it would take five minutes,” Alina replied. He smiled then and pulled her close to him, bending his head to drop a kiss at her crown, holding her tucked against him with a warmth more sustaining than the flare of passion, desire distant for both of them, though it would only be a moment’s work to make their embrace one of striving possession.

“I understand why you did what you did,” he murmured. “I would have said no, categorically, if you’d asked and I have done as you did. It has been a long time since I was the one who was not the leader, I am not yet adept at trusting, though I trust you more than anyone. I have not been able to question fundamental truths, or what I took them to be, for so long. Perhaps too long, but the world has gone on and I was alone—I had to accept certain things as right, or I would have doomed all the Grisha.”

“So you forgive me?” she said.

“No, of course not,” he said. “Because you don’t need to be forgiven. Because I am not the one to grant anyone forgiveness. Because, as you say, you were successful.”

“I hoped I would be. I thought I could be, we thought so,” she said.

“The question is how—to what degree, to what extent and to what unexpected consequence?” he said. “I’ve learned that and Togtuun knows it as well, that when you succeed, there are always complications. They aren’t always bad, but you have to deal with them. David probably understands better than anyone else, as he’s the most inventive Durast in seven generations. You might speak with him later.”

“Later?” she said.

“You cannot think I will let you go now,” he replied softly, his lips now at her temple, her cheek, his hands stroking along her ribs and down to her hips. “You and I, we must explore what you have done. We must make a new map of the world, my cartographer.”

“I’m not sure this is the most effective method, Sasha,” she said.

“I’m not either, but I can’t think of any other way,” he said.

“Can’t you?” she asked. “Have you tried? Before, there was the purl between us, but now…have you tried to see if there is anything more? I have an idea, but it’s really only a hypothesis and those need to be tested.”

“Plausible deniability?” Genya’s face was the picture of disbelief, utterly untailored, and quite like a dash of cold water. “And he accepted it? You truly said that to him, Alina? To General Kirigan?”

“Accepted is maybe not the word I would choose, but yes, it’s what I said to him. It’s not a lie,” Alina said. “I wasn’t trying to purposely deceive him.”

“I’m not sure what it is—it’s not an explanation and it’s a piss-poor excuse, if you’ll pardon me,” Genya said. “Speaking as someone with experience in spying.”

“This wasn’t espionage, Genya,” Alina said.

“No, it wasn’t. Because that assumes opposition and General Kirigan is yours in every way a person can be,” Genya said.

“You’re talking about this like I betrayed him. It’s not like I told him I was going to, I don’t know, use an amplifier to take control of his Summoning. It was an offer, one he was able to refuse,” Alina said. She nudged the tray of pastries towards Genya, an illustration amply rewards when Genya shook her head to decline; Alina picked up the cake closest to herself, a golden seedcake topped with currants and took a bite.

“I suppose that’s true if you accept that the sleeping mind and the waking mind are the same self,” Genya said reflectively. “Did you and the Librarian come to terms with that? Because it seems like you had a lot of ground to cover, what with the creation of an entirely novel endeavor to reconceptualize merzost so that it could become a tool used to liberate the Grisha that you could get functioning before breakfast the next morning, when General Kirigan’s absence would be noted and cause a lot of consternation at the very least.”

“We didn’t really talk about that,” Alina admitted. “I didn’t, anyway. The Librarian has abilities that are hard to grasp, they seem to have some skill in manipulating thought and dreams the way other Grisha handle matter or energy.”

“Doesn’t that give you pause?”

“Perhaps not as much as it should, but the Librarian was here for a long time before I arrived and they could only have been invited by Aleksander, kept here by Aleksander. If they posed such a terrible risk, he would have known. If I trust him in the most important ways, and I do, I think I have to trust him to have decided the Librarian is our ally, even if we aren’t always clear how what they are doing furthers our cause,” Alina said. “And, in the most basic terms, we’re all still alive and kicking today and Aleksander had plenty of energy available to take me to task for risking myself, so as far as we know, no harm done.”

“I wouldn’t think that would be enough for you,” Genya said.

“You weren’t with us in the woods. No one was,” Alina said. “Nor when the Fjerdans tried to murder me. I’ve felt what it’s like when Aleksander is consumed by anger and fear, how much it takes to keep him from losing himself. I know what it feels like to steady each other, I can feel when something between us is good, whole. When the possibilities are like flowers about to bloom, not adders ready to strike. That’s how it felt, that’s how it feels now.”

Genya reached over and picked up a tiny cake topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a trio of tart red berries and popped the entire thing into her mouth. She licked away the cream that she got on her fingers, and smiled at Alina.

“That’s all right then. Though you make me feel I should never doze off in the Library ever again.”

“I haven’t heard anyone ever complain about having a nightmare when they do,” Alina said. “It might be the safest place in all Ravka to fall asleep if you’re scared of a bad dream.”

“I’ve never had a dream worse than being awake,” Genya said. “It never occurred to me that the Librarian might have had a hand in that. But if that’s why, I can see why General Kirigan would do nearly anything to keep them here.”

“Plausible deniability,” Ivan said, his arms crossed, his gaze steady, his usual expression as if they were talking about something ordinary. “He did not like it but you made him listen.”

“Yes,” Alina said. She’d given herself even odds that this would be Ivan’s response, a practical assessment of the choice and the outcome, much as she might describe a shatranj gambit to one of the younglings with an aptitude or interest in the game. She’d been braced for outrage, the cold, suffocating kind that Aleksander seemed incapable of, a brutal dismissal that had no flourishes of the kefta or curled lip, but it seemed she’d come out on the better side of the split.

“The Librarian knows you well,” he said. “To make a suggestion to you that you would take, one you would see as a reasonable risk.”

“You don’t worry about the Librarian, do you?” Alina said.

“No. They have had ample opportunity to overthrow the General. They are an ally, though there have been times I’ve wondered if they held back when we could have used support,” Ivan said. “But it seems they have acted when they judged fit, and I can’t hold that against them when I’ve done the same.”

“I must say, this is a refreshing reaction,” Alina replied. “Not that I don’t love philosophical discussions about the nature of the self, mind-body duality, the inherent corruption of power, and so on. But it’s nice to come at things from a different angle. Though, you’re not just saying what you’re saying because you promised to make up for trying to kill me, are you?”

“No. I am willing to sacrifice my life for yours, not my scruples,” Ivan said. “However few or small you think mine are.”

“I don’t think you don’t have any,” Alina aid quickly.

“What a relief,” he replied and then shocked her with a short, barking laugh. Alina wouldn’t have thought he had an infectious laugh, but she found herself chuckling, a little giddy, the way she felt after drinking medovudkha.

“It wasn’t so bad, plausible deniability or not, right?” she said. “We had to try, to see if what I discovered about merzost was true and there was only one way to do it.”

“Was there only one?” Ivan asked. He was the only one who’d thought to ask her that, which was probably the reason she’d sought him out to talk about what she’d done, no matter what she told anyone else about security concerns.

“I think so. I couldn’t afford to spend hours and days trying to figure out if there was another way when I had one that looked extremely likely to work. It’s not like there’s time to waste with Nikolai plotting away and the intel from Matthias about the Fjerdans isn’t reassuring,” she said.

“You don’t call him Prince Nikolai,” Ivan observed.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Alina answered. “And he’s just a man, an otkazat’sya.”

“You’ve come far from that orphanage at Keramzin,” Ivan said, the approval apparent in his voice. Or, at least, it was apparent to Alina now that she had learned to distinguish the tiny increments of difference in tone that were easily overlooked. She shrugged and he made a low sound in his throat that was almost like a smile. She wished she could tell Aleksander about this, how delighted she’d made Ivan, Ivan of all people, by her behavior and her explanations, but Aleksander wouldn’t see the humor in it and the satisfaction, not now, not when they had so recently found each other in the other world within the night and he was still grappling with being fundamentally wrong about merzost in a way that had cost lives.

“It seems like forever ago and then someone says something, some Os Altan proverb I’ve never heard before, or talks about some cultural reference I have no idea about, and it’s like I just got onto the First Army wagonette and I’m wishing I’d been willing to be the nurserymaid instead of signing up as a mapmaker,” Alina said.

“You, the nurserymaid?” Ivan said. “At an orphanage?”

“You think I couldn’t have done it?” She didn’t think she could have done it, not really, which was why she’d joined the First Army, besides her ill-advised juvenile yearning for Mal, but for Ivan to cast aspersions…

“I think it would have been a colossal waste. Unless you meant to train a team to compete in the national shatranj tournament,” he said.

“That would have been a funny way to end up in Os Alta,” Alina said.

“Stranger things have happened,” Ivan replied. “Some of the youngling have tales to tell that you wouldn’t believe if you read them in the Princess and the Barbarian. For the Grisha, the unexpected is as regular as an egg.”

“See, that’s what I mean. ‘Regular as an egg,’” Alina grinned. “No one says that where I’m from. I think I ate one egg a year, if I got lucky.”

“And does it make you wish to mind a nursery full of snotty-nosed orphans?” Ivan asked. “Or do you want an omelet? I believe that is one of the General’s specialties.”

“Ivan, has anyone noticed how funny you are?” Alina laughed. “Besides Fedyor?”

“No. It is a secret weapon I keep in reserve,” he said, completely deadpan.

“Perhaps you can quip Nikolai into exile,” she said.

“Exile is insufficient—he’s been eliminated,” Ivan said. Alina gaped at him, aware her mouth was hanging open. She must have misheard him, began to say as much when Ivan spoke again. “I did not have to resort to humor.”

“What? I don’t—Ivan, what happened, what do you mean?”

“If you truly wish for me to tell you, I will. But I warn you, you will not like it, what I say, what I have done, and I would spare you that. You will have enough burdens to bear,” Ivan said.

“Does Aleksander know?” she said.

“He is my General, I do nothing without his knowledge,” Ivan said.

“And nothing that is not at his command?” she said and then something odd happened. Ivan’s face changed, the expression in his eyes one she couldn’t name, a muscle working in his jaw, his lips suddenly mobile. If he looked in a mirror, he might not recognize himself; she hardly did.

“He has been clear about his goals, his principles. What may be sacrificed, what costs may be borne and by whom,” Ivan said. “I am as his right hand, he need not instruct me to strike for it to be done, as he need not speak to his palm to wield a sword.”

“He uses the Cut,” Alina said. “He used it to save my life. It nearly killed him.”

“Just so, Alina,” Ivan said. It was the first time he had ever used her first name. “He knows what he needs. Will you trust that and trust that I am telling you what you need to know?”

“You’re not my right hand,” she said.

“No, I am sworn to you. Did you not have such relationships in the First Army? Were there not comrades you would have acted to save, if you could, not that boy from your orphanage, but your fellows, your seniors?” he said. She closed her eyes and saw Alexei’s face again, intent as he drew the course of a river on a map, the line of his neck when he lay broken after the crossing.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re sure, Nikolai can’t return, can’t be a martyr some faction rallies around, setting up a satellite court in Kerch, rallying a militia.”

“All those would have been better plans than the one he devised. I’m sure he will not pose a future problem, as sure as you are when you summon Light,” he said.

“All right,” Alina said, then shrugged. “I guess we won’t have to see whether merzost would have taken care of him.”

“He left a lot of documents. Sloppy,” Ivan offered. “We were going to burn most of them, but you’re welcome to try merzost instead. Fire will always be a back-up option.”

“Plausible deniability?” Nina laughed, a bold, raucous sound that made Alina question how effective Nina could be as a spy, but she couldn’t help chuckling along. Nina pushed over the plate of waffles she’d been working her way through.

“I don’t—” Alina said.

“You deserve them. If you knew me better, you would know what a big deal this kind of gesture is for me, but you’ve given me something better than fresh waffles with plum compote,” Nina said.

“What’s that?”

“A real laugh. And the sense that we might actually make it through all of this and come out the other side better off than we were before,” Nina said. “For that, you should get waffles. Not all the waffles, but some and these are an especially good batch.”

#crescent moon au #darklina #alina/aleksander #genya safin #ivan #nina zenik #conversations #nikolai lantsov #making merzost work for me #nina/waffles #the librarian #will I finish this before season 2 airs?#unlikely #but you never know #alina starkov

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simperator · 1 year

Text

Haeresis Dea - Chapter Three

AO3 Link

Secondo remembers a Sister and feels warm nostalgia and affection, a Sister knows Secondo and feels nothing but fear.

You look like an idiot right now. Say something, anything, just don’t say that again.

Every thought shooting through Secondo’s head seemed to be running at a mile a minute, and none of them were good. Not only does this girl look absolutely petrified of you, but she also doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about. To add insult to injury, you can stand there saying you remember her but you can’t even recall the poor girl’s name.

Unfortunately, the only laurel he knew to rest on was the fact he had satanic nepotism, to speak to them as a superior no matter the situation. The thought of it made his stomach churn in pure self-loathing and disgust. His younger brother Terzo had always loved the attention and actively revels in it, and even his older brother Primo is quietly lofty with other people.

“Yes, I think we knew each other as children, Sorella.”

Secondo winced at himself for only calling her by her title. He had always made an effort to learn people’s names but seeing how this Sister hypothetically slapped him on the wrist for it by neglecting to call Copia by his newly ordained name. That was the big lightbulb for him into remembering her, the relationship they shared. No one in their right mind should be talking to an Emeritus that way, correcting them on what they are allowed to call their subordinates. After all, their bloodline has been associated with the satanic papacy since Nihil’s father, his father’s father, and however long Nihil was able to continue on for when reminding the brothers of this fact.

But here the Sister was, not afraid to stand up for the young priest and openly disregard the unholy bloodline, to an Emeritus’ face. She could get many extremely stern talking to’s by her elder Sister’s for doing that. Disrespecting his father and his role in the church. Secondo liked that.

“We… we did?”

In fact, it was that very abrasive attitude that kicked off his memory of this particular Sister. Growing up within the church’s curriculum and subsequent nuns and priests as teachers, obviously there was a level of strictness, which made room for a level of rebellion. Of course, Terzo and some of the young boys were usual problem children, talking back and slacking off on assigned work. Not young Sorella. She was never afraid to stick up for herself and question authority no matter what matter was at hand- a very welcomed blessing in a Satanic environment but it definitely got old for many Sisters after a long day.

It was definitely a more-than-once-a-week occasion Secondo would be surveying the cathedral halls with his older brother and father and see her sitting outside, slumped over a desk pushed outside grumbling to herself. His father would always lightheartedly chastise her with his shit-eating grin with a line like “You focus better out here?” while Primo tried to silently discipline her by means of a disappointed stare. This vexed Secondo for two reasons. One, shouldn’t they be encouraging rebellion as one of the pillars of their faith? Two, they acted exactly like this toward everyone all of the time. Nihil acts too much like a child to be Papa and Primo acts too much like Papa to be a child. Whenever the two would share their unwelcome two cents with the poor girl Secondo just looked at her and tried to send his sympathies with just a look. Maybe she would remember his attempt at telepathy.

“Yes, I remember you uh… would get in trouble a lot. My brothers and I would see you outside.”

Secondo wanted this to stir up playful nostalgia in the poor Sister but her face contorted into somewhere between a sneer and guilt. “Ah. Right. They sure had a lot to say.” Secondo bit the inside of his cheek. Once again, Secondo’s attempt at honest, light conversation seems to go awry. He knows that he’s intimidating, arguably the most out of all of the Emeritus men, but that didn’t mean he wanted people to fear him. It just sort of… came with the territory of his height, status, and general flat tone. The only thing Secondo could think to do to remedy this would be to squat down to match the young Sister’s eye level but that would be wildly patronizing.

Trying to think fast, Secondo wanted to soothe any feeling going through her head, and let her know that he wasn’t scolding or making fun of her. “I always thought they were a bit hard on you…” Secondo’s eyes were fixed on the hallway ahead, pretending not to be hesitant about looking back to the Sister, whose eyes were wide with surprise. The lack of eye contact gave Secondo the confidence to continue his thought. “My family and the older Sisters.”

Secondo, despite his resting I’m-going-to-maul-you-if-you-say-the-wrong-thing face, was in reality just a shy young boy with insurmountable pressure put on him since the time he was born. Being a bastard son of the reigning Papa and brother to both the most insufferably high-achieving and just regular insufferable left him in an impossible position. Secondo worked hard every day to make up for what Terzo lacked in regards to future Papacy, but was forever cast in Primo’s shadow because he couldn’t help raise his younger brother and aim for perfection in everything he did because it would break him down.

He did not want to disappoint his father but felt as though his very existence did that for him. All of the Emeritus brothers felt that way, they all just coped with it differently. Primo tried to be the best at everything in an attempt for validation, Terzo just coasted through with his looks and charm because he had given up on appeasing Nihil a long time ago. Secondo was in the middle of these two extremes but was not allowed to complain about it at all. Any attempt at venting would result in Primo saying he has no right because he doesn’t work hard enough or Terzo just brushing him off saying that he shouldn’t care. He felt trapped, and anyone who was able to break out of their hypothetical cages- no matter what they were, earned his respect.

He was snapped out of what he believed to be a pity party by a small snort from the Sister. Hearing a small semblance of joy after she was practically radiating fear was a small nugget of pure relief. Secondo turned back to her, her hand covering her mouth. “I’m sorry, Father Emeritus it’s just… really? You looked like you were going to give me a real talking to every time you looked at me.” Damnit. Not only was Secondo scaring the living daylights out of the poor girl all she knows from him is fear. It was right then and there Secondo decided that right now, even if it was just one person, was going to realize how warm he really was.

“Please, if anyone needed to be sent into time-out it’d be my father for teasing children instead of doing any papal duties.” Secondo could feel the tension in the air dissipating, all because he let his mask slip a little. He grew up constantly hearing from Sister Imperator to speak formally with everyone in the Clergy and to always remain collected and professional, which earned him a lot of respect but also made it very hard to make friends. He prayed the Sister wouldn’t notice his discomfort in being comfortable with someone who wasn’t Imperator or his family. Hell, at this rate, he may even end up smiling, which according to Terzo would bring about the apocalypse.

Small, poorly-hidden giggling was echoing through the halls, the young Sister was eating this up. Secondo let a small, awkward smile stretch across his face, and a sense of pride twang in his chest. Being able to convince this girl he wasn’t going to bite her head off and joke about something that the Clergy considers oh-so-serious was a feeling completely foreign to him, but one he was now desperate into happening more often. That’s not even mentioning hearing how he made the young Sister laugh. She sounded so delighted, genuine, and… pretty…

“Father Emeritus, should you not talk about Papa that way? What if somebody hears you?” The Sister chirped through laughter. Secondo wasn’t even thinking about anyone else right now, he didn’t care if anyone, not even Imperator, heard him knocking his father down a few pegs with a subordinate. Secondo decided to push this new feeling even further. “What they do, tell on me? They’ll have to find him dicking off or pestering Sister Imperator first.” Speaking casually with an inferior, making fun of Papa, and now swearing. Secondo was on a roll. It was freeing calling his father out on his shortcomings to someone who was raised believing he was oh-so-all-important, especially when it meant he could see a smile and hear a laugh half as adorable as the young Sisters-

Nope. Too far. Shooting the shit with Clergy members is one thing, finding them attractive is a whole different beast and a whole other world of angry lecturing from Imperator. Secondo tried to nip these feelings in the bud but this conversation was just too good. He liked this new energy he can create, and he liked how she responded to it. That’s totally innocent, right? “Are you going to tell my mentor that I’m laughing at your slander, Father?” Secondo's smile quickly faded. “Mentor?” The not-a-Sister Sister swats a few more laughs from out of the air, but still smiling responded. “Yes, I’m a Novitiate.” Oh no. Not only was he testing out a new streak of cockiness to make a cute girl laugh, but this cute girl also wasn’t even an ordained Sister. They both could get into some serious hot water if this got out. The Novitiate was an adult, twenty at least, so it wouldn’t be like a teenager giggling with their friends and getting him in trouble. During his little crisis she continued, “...Perhaps I should have told you before you called me Sister…” Her smile began to slowly drop.

Not on Secondo’s watch. It was like a line of a drug sharing laughter with a Clergy member, for once as potential friends rather than a business partner. Plus, it would not be out of pity, this notion utterly puzzled him. From what he remembered, despite her constant sticking-to-the-man, she had a lot of potential and much going for her by the time she graduated from the Clerical equivalent of high school. With her passion, she should have been an ordained Sister years ago, what is she doing stuck in that position? Secondo just had to know. “You’re not ordained? Were you not someone apart of top-of-the-class and well-liked among the Clergy?” The Novitiate smirked, meeting Secondo’s green eye. “Smart, maybe. Well-liked by my Sisters? You just mentioned how much of a problem child I was.” Secondo was affronted by this. He knew problem children, he has dealt with some real pieces of work both in the Sister and Priesthood. Someone who was simply just passionate and argumentative should not be held back like this. “That’s ridiculous. Well, if someone like my younger brother could end up an ordained priest 6 years early, you should be fine.” “Your brother is also your brother. It makes sense he’d be ordained and I’m not.”

Right. The whole son-of-the-Papa thing. Secondo felt a strange sense of guilt despite not having any part in anyone’s potential clerical career. Terzo was not ready for ordination, he barely cares about the church. In fact, Secondo barely knew anything about the church until after he was ordained into the priesthood, he had to pick up where his schooling left off by whiling away hours in the cathedral library. He hated unfair treatment and hated how much he benefitted from it. “Besides…” she began again. “I wasn’t born in the Clergy…”

That’s it. He knew about nepotism but had no idea it stretched to everyone who had the so-called honour of being born from a Papa and his Prime Mover, and discriminated against anyone who converted or was left here on the steps… just like him. “There’s no reason why you’re stuck under everyone’s thumb just because you’re not the byproduct of some bloodline bullshit.” His tone was deep and angry, this touched a deep nerve in him so sorely he did not realize the tone of his voice and how passionate he was getting. So much so that his anger made the Novitiate recoil.

Secondo immediately let his fire fizzle out, he hated upsetting people. Especially someone he had been so, perhaps unbeknownst to them, vulnerable with. He put his gloved hands on her shoulders and leaned down to match her eyeline, no longer caring about coming off as anything and simply trying to soothe her. “You don’t deserve this kind of treatment, especially from the people who claim to be family. Now, you tell me if anyone hinders you or makes you feel like you don’t belong here, understand?”

His voice was stern but not out of commanding respect, but out of feeling disrespect for another. Noticing the slightly shaken expression on the Novitiate's face Secondo’s eyes softened. He moved his hands from firmly on her shoulders to holding them in his hands. “I’m on your side. Promise me you’ll tell me.” She blinked a couple of times and then nodded slightly, letting out a small sigh of destressing from the sudden outburst. “Thank you, Father.”

He sighed in a strange sense of embarrassment for letting himself be so emotional, a very typical response for a man in his power but more for potentially upsetting the Novitiate. Not wanting to mess anything up further, he quietly held her hands and slowly glided his thumbs over her soft hands. The two stood there for a few beats, just breathing, quietly rebalancing the comfort felt just seconds before. Secondo looked down at the ground, shamefully.

“Really,” she spoke again, Secondo meeting her eyes expectantly. “Thank you, Father.” She smiled warmly at him, a silent acknowledgment of his fears and a way of soothing him in return, a way of her saying I’m-not-afraid. Secondo stood up and straightened himself up, not letting go of the Novitiate's hands, who was now shyly averting eye contact. “I really must be getting to the Sister’s quarters…” she squeaked out, her face flush. “They’d uhm… get really upset with me if I skipped out on chores.”

Secondo’s shoulders relaxed, now fully safe in the knowledge that she felt safe, but he didn’t want to leave this newfound companion on an awkward note, just parting ways like this didn’t mean something to him or she was just another subordinate to dismiss whenever he pleased. The Novitiate let go of his hands hesitantly, she was absolutely worried she was overstepping holding hands with an Emeritus but Secondo secretly mourned the loss of her touch. Secondo took a leap. “Per favore, lascia che ti accompagni indietro.”

The Novitiate cocked her head, puzzled. Ah, right. “Please let me walk you back,” Secondo repeated, putting his son-of-the-Papa voice on to mask his nervousness. He swallowed a dry throat. “If you would like…” The Novitiate's face got so hot Secondo could practically feel it, which he absolutely adored. “Yes…” she began, voice hoarse. “I would like that.”

The two turned and questioningly took their first steps back towards the Sister’s sleeping quarters. The Novitiate's hands were poised elegantly in front of her while Secondo opted to put his hands in his pockets. He secretly wanted to offer up his arm to hold, more than anything to be a gentleman but also as an excuse to be close to her again, but his shyness got the better of him. The walk back was still pleasant, the two enjoying the other's company in silent comfort. Secondo felt her eyes glance at him, scanning his large frame but when he attempted to look back her eyes darted back forward, which pulled a restrained chuckle out of him. She was making it very hard to repress the feelings he convinced himself he rid of earlier.

It seemed like a minute and they were at the crossroads between sleeping quarters, the hallway stretching with midday sunlight dappling the walls through the tall cathedral windows. The Novitiate continued walking but noticed the presence beside her disappearing. She looked to Secondo, curious as to why he stopped so suddenly. Secondo put his hands behind his back formally, letting his lip twitch before speaking for the first time in a good few minutes. “I don’t want to startle any Sisters.” If he was to be nothing else, Secondo was going to be respectable, and as much as he wanted to ignore any of his duties for the day and spend more time with the sweet girl he just gotten acquainted with he knew better than to impose his presence on potentially unwilling Sisters. Respecting women’s privacy went without saying to him and his brothers of course but any young priest who tried to glance would definitely be subject to cruel and well-deserved punishment- even the old casanova knows that.

“Ah, well, thank you very much for accompanying me, Father Emeritus.” She was putting on her own formal voice now. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at Papa’s next sermon.” Secondo let that damn smile creep back on his face, hoping the distance between the two of them would render it unnoticeable. “I’m sure I will, but please, you may call me Secondo.” She looked to him, eyes twinkling with disbelief, and then to the floor, her face bright pink and fingers twiddling anxiously. “Am… I dismissed… Secondo?” She was unsure of the new name, Secondo liked how it sounded coming from her voice. “You do not need my permission,” he replied, as warmly as he could muster. The Novitiate looked back to him with a restrained smile on her face, still facing him as she began to walk back to her room. “Farewell, Secondo.” His smile grew wider without his own volition at the unspoken new signal of friendship “Farewell, Sorella.”

Turning away from her before she caught on that he was absolutely bursting with butterflies, he began the long trudge back to the library, contorting his face in all sorts of ways to stop smiling like an idiot. Just because she could see him without the stuffy and aloof act doesn’t mean he’s ready for everyone else to be able to as well. Saying nothing to those he passed by besides offering a curt nod with an unchanging typical Secondo expression his head was absolutely reeling. Replaying the conversation, picking apart all the things he did, and trying to burn the Novitiate’s laugh in his memory.

Standing in front of the heavy doors for the library he entered, with so much of his usual bravado he did not notice that Terzo was in there, book half-open in his hands. When the two’s eyes met Secondo completely dropped into a usual scowl. The library was his safe space, his space to ponder on those moments, and his little brother infecting it. “Since when did you read,” Secondo growled. Terzo’s face went from neutral to a shit-eating grin, very usual fashion for him “Since when did you flirt with the Sisters?”

Secondo’s face rose in temperature rapidly, burning an ever-increasing red. Terzo had very little idea what was going through his head but was very delighted to mercilessly tease the brother that so often scolds him for everything. Secondo let a hand drop over his features in a failing attempt to cover his embarrassed blush. “I was not flirting with anyone!” Terzo let out a laugh. “Ooh! Defensive! This is a big deal, most of us were under the impression you didn’t have feelings!” Secondo was about to slam that door in an attempt to assert his brotherly dominance but Terzo stood with his hands up disarmingly. He loved to tease but truly was invested in Secondo’s little venture. “It’s okay, Fratello, I won’t tell Imperator. But you must tell me who the lucky girl is!” Secondo’s fingers impatiently tapped on the door as he avoided eye contact with his brother.

“Or boy…” Terzo added. Secondo knew that Terzo was absolutely saying that but this was about all he could take. He shut the door behind him, leaving Terzo to simply shrug off what just happened and chalk it up to Secondo being Secondo. Standing outside the library door, he stared into nothing for a few beats, then buried his face and hair into his hands. If he wasn’t overthinking it before, he certainly was now. Did I make her uncomfortable? Does she think I was flirting with her? If I did would she be upset?

Great. Not only did he make himself vulnerable, shortcircuit with social anxiety, and risk getting a royal ass-whooping from Imperator for saying all that stuff about his father, but now his brothers have more ammo to tease him with. Worse yet, he now is stuck with all of these feelings he would never have had if he had just stayed in his library or in his quarters all day. So much Secondo now had to suffer, but the worst part is, he didn’t want it to stop.

#ghost bc #ghost band #secondo #secondo x reader #terzo #ghost fanfiction #ghost the band #fanfic #haeresis dea fic

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cosmic-kinglet · 4 months

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I have written a hypothetical scene! I may add to this later, but I'm tired, and this is a pretty solid start to where I imagine things could go if Ruin is semi-cured.

Basic scene:

Eclipse becomes curious about the plans stored away in Ruin's files and decides to question his prisoner. Instead, he discovers the one who actually created the plans.

Enjoy!

After hours spent looking through files while simultaneously attempting to track down the creator, Eclipse had found quite a few interesting blueprints. His thoughts wandered to his prisoner, which wasn't surprising, considering the files and blueprints had been taken from him. So many designs and plans, and all for very familiar targets. Ruin also seemed to want Sun and Moon gone. And yet, how could someone so timid create such elaborate and brutal plans?

As thoughts and questions continued swirling in his mind, and as he seemed to be making little progress in finding the creator, it all became too much. Eclipse needed to know what was going on. With this thought, Eclipse rose from his chair and made his way to the holding cells.

The moment Eclipse stepped out of his lab, a faint echo hit his sensors. It wasn't a scream, nor was it cries. It was soft, gentle, melodic. Eclipse stood tall and rigid. Was someone...humming? With a breath in, he continued toward the cells. The humming continued to echo, and Eclipse was ashamed by the speed of his motor. The tune became clearer as he neared the cell holding Ruin,

🎶Da dada da da~ da dada da dai~ya-da dada da da dai~ya-da🎶

Upon reaching the cell, Eclipse could now see Ruin sat on the floor, hunched over. He was running his index finger across the floor, as if creating scratches within his mind. Eclipse had come there fully intent on immediate questioning, but the questions he had now drowned the questions he'd had before. Still, he stood silent, waiting to see if Ruin would even realize there was anyone there.

His wait was not long. Within just a few seconds, Ruin's head slowly tilted upward, meeting Eclipse's stunned gaze.

"Ah~, hello again. Is there something you needed from me?" Ruin's voice was unchanged, but his tone seemed different somehow.

Eclipse, stunned all over again by Ruin's words, was silent for a moment. He tried to remove the uncertain look from his eyes, but some part of him knew he had already been caught. Still, he composed himself quickly.

"Listen. I found some plans within your files. It seems that we have a similar desire."

Ruin clunkily rose to his feet. "Oh~! So, you found the plans to torture Sun and Moon, did you?" He stepped closer to the barrier, leaned in, and whispered, "Quite nice, aren't they?"

Despite his best efforts, Eclipse couldn't stop the surprise from reaching his eyes, nor could he keep his body from leaning away, despite knowing the barrier would keep the two separated.

Eclipse squinted his eyes, and his voice reached a low gravel. "What's wrong with you?"

Ruin tilted his head to one side. "Why, whatever do you mean?" The playfulness in his voice was obvious. He was teasing Eclipse. "What would e~ver lead you to think there was anything wrong with me?" Ruin then pulled the most dramatic gasp he could muster. "Could it be?! Have we spoken before? Do I seem different than I did then?"

At this point, the shock had worn off, and Eclipse could only roll his eyes. "Okay, I get it. You've got your own little thing going on here. I'm familiar."

Ruin lept forward, planting both hands onto the barrier. "Of course you are! You and Sun were once in much the same situation." He then removed his hands from the barrier and instead held them in a contemplative manner. "Although, I don't have quite as much free control as you did."

"How so?"

Ruin gave a heavy sigh. "Alas, I have very little control over my time here. It simply comes and goes, with no real pattern or cause."

Eclipse crossed his arms. "So, basically you could be gone at any second?"

Ruin raised a pointed finger to the sky. "Corr~ect! It's pure chance that we have met here, and I have no idea how much longer we have to speak! Now," he sat back down, legs crossed, head resting on his clasped hands, "I believe we have a lot to discuss."

#the sun and moon show

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135-film · 3 months

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i want to talk about stupid stuff in my furry world even though i don't really think anyone's listening :)

this is really long so i'm sorry if you open it and realize you don't care lol...

EVOLUTION.

basically, evolution works the exact same way in my furry universe(s) as it does in real life. animal species come and go and most extinction events happened pretty much at the exact moments.

i haven't thought too much about how/when their bodies formed - and i don't care that much because it's really, really not that important to anything - but i imagine it's around the same time animals started walking on land but rapidly evolving a bipedal (and modern humanoid) body instead.

HYBRIDIZATION.

i don't really like the term "hybridization" / "hybrid" for human analogous species, because of a lot of real world implications that could mean, but i'm a little at a loss for what else i should call them.

either way, the way (furry) species works is probably more simple in reality than it is in my head but essentially the viability of offspring depends on the parents family (classification), genus, and species. the further away it is from the species, the harder it is to reproduce BUT if they're in the same family, they can still produce offspring together.

for example: a tiger can breed with another tiger and will have a high success rate of offspring. or the tiger can move on to a lion, and will have a harder time at producing but will still produce offspring with some difficulty. OR the tiger can breed with a house cat and both can struggle at producing offspring - but it's not impossible. however, trying to have babies with a moose or a bear is genetically impossible and will never produce offspring.

subspecies and breeds do technically exist, but in-universe they do not have "names" for these really. and if they did, they wouldn't have any reason to talk about it.

FERAL ANIMALS.

i haven't actually settled on whether or not i want feral animals in my world, because i like the idea of my OCs having pets but the thought of "how" those animals exist and everything doesn't make sense to me.

my solution was initially going to be pet-sized insects, but unfortunately i also have anthro insects as well. so right now, none of my furries have pets or animals in their world.

CARNIVORE FOOD.

this one's particularly tricky for me, just kind of because i hadn't thought too much about it. so because of that, i'm going to say this as more of a hypothetical rather than a definitive.

i think it's primarily down to culture in what carnivores eat; in some places, it might be considered taboo to eat actual meat, but in other places it might be considered bad to eat meat substitutes.

in my head, my main story is in a culture where it's mixed - meat and meat substitutes are both okay to eat, and it just depends on the individual.

i imagine meat farms as relatively humane, though i can't currently think of a way to describe the process of humane meat farming (especially in a way that doesn't make me sound insane).

OTHER SOURCES OF FOOD.

i know some people get weirded out by this, but things like dairy (milk, eggs, cream), honey, and even non-food things like wool and the like are still definitely around and are actively farmed.

BIGOTRY.

there is no species/breed (whatever) related bigotry within my world whatsoever. primarily because i'm a little white boy from the US, so i don't think it's my place to really talk about and try to formulate a story around.

i bring this point up primarily because i think people kind of... expect furry stories that are in-depth to have this sort of thing - but i personally think it's best for me to avoid trying to do.

other forms of bigotry, specifically the ones i face/faced (homophobia, transphobia, etc.), DO exist in my world but it's small scale and also not particularly important to my stories outside of backstories, character development, and situational interactions.

ANATOMY.

all of my furry anatomy might change in the future but everything i say here applies to the way i draw them currently.

all furries have, generally, normal human proportions. there are some difference between groups of species, but majority are within the same proportions.

most furries have digitigrade legs (i know unguligrade is different, but for the sake of simplicity i'm going to call it digitigrade), though there are a few (though rare) exceptions that do not.

right now, birds have feather attachments to all their fingers except the thumb, and this goes down their entire arm (similar to a bunch of different dinosaurs). this reduces their range of motion on their wrists in-universe, but not so much that it's nearly impossible for them to do most normal activities.

i was thinking of changing them to have no wings, as i haven't been able to figure out how clothing works or things like that - but i'm bird autistic and really like drawing wings, so...stumped there! (i'm against back wings in most of my furry universes and dislike wings as hands.)

antlers and horns are considered ornamental and may be removed (typically a doctor or some sort of specialist would do this) if the person sees fit. velvet-shed antlers are still a "gorey" mess, and people who are going through that may request to stay home (though this is also dependent on the individual as well as the conditions around the individual - like if they work or something).

as mentioned previously, "hybrids" (actual name pending) do exist! their anatomy may be different than what they describe themselves as. example: my character dallas is a zebu cow mixed with african water buffalo (though this is not from his direct parents), but he still prefers to call himself a cow rather than a buffalo.

FASHION.

clothes are typically the same as they are for human, though some may be modified to accommodate for different species. it is also considerably less taboo to go nude, but most still prefer to wear clothes.

despite what a lot of people think, tailors still aren't as terribly common in this world - and, honestly, i think a lot of furries would know a lot about taking care of modifying/fixing themselves as well (though full making clothes, i don't know).

shoes are seen as more fashion than function, but steel-toed boots and such are definitely still around. horse shoes also fit into this category.

an extremely common type of fashion, just like our world, is body modification. ear cropping, tail docking, declawing, feather plucking, and so on are pretty common. (i don't think i need to say this - but i'm not an advocate for those things, please don't do these to animals unless absolutely necessary like in sheep and stuff.) there's even more than what i just listed.

tattoos are also common, though the word "tatoo" in this case has three different meanings - branding (typically freeze branding), general scarification, or needle tattooing.

freeze branding and scarification are basically the same thing as they are in real life and are the more painful of the processes, while needle tattooing is more tedious.

needle tattooing is shaving down the fur to get to the skin (full bald, not even little hairs are allowed in the area), and then tattooed as one would in our world but with special inks and dyes that show in the fur pattern and not just on the skin. while this sounds like the easiest process, it is highly repetitive and prone to failure if not up-kept and consistently tattooed for once a week for a month.

fur clipping (like real world camels and horses and dogs, not like humans) is also a popular fashion choice.

fur dyes are another popular choice, but are not recommended for full body use. this does not really stop people.

BODY LANGUAGE.

there is a lot of body language that i COULD cover, but most of it boils down to real world body language in animals just translated on humans.

but there's a lot of different readable tail languages as well - most people are generally aware of what their tail is doing during conversations or on public transport, things like that.

#dook dook #sneezes #<- FIRST TIME IVE EVER USED THAT TAG!#also if anyone reads this. i love you #if anyone has questions. ill suck you #worldbuilding #furgonomics #anthrogrounding #furry worldbuilding #whatever #furry #anthro #WHATEVER!#when i talk about this im mostly talking about my upcoming project (that i havent talked about here .)#i have been thinking about this world since like. 2019.#eye twitch

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gemma-collins-ily · 1 year

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Can I ask for a fic with Mal where the reader is getting bullied by some guys and storms off, and then later Mal finds out and like beats the guys up or something like that and it turns into a friends to lovers? If you can’t it’s fine :). I love your other work so I thought to request something of mal because I don’t see him getting enough attention lol. Thanks!

The Print of Him Written There

a/n - I'm sorry this took so long, and it's kind of incomplete (has an ending but not the one I originally planned). I started off writing this a while ago, and then when I came back to it, I couldn't really find my footing.

You had convinced yourself a long while ago that your life was just meant to be a tragedy. Although, in quite the opposite fashion of a novella, yours had no desirable reciprocated romance, no forbidden love or meeting up with a secret lover: it was just you.

And Mal, you supposed.

He was a very viable candidate for your tragical romance, the two of you sharing moments often that made you gaze unsurely, eyes flitting over his face and breaths coming just a little heavier, you laughing and blaming it on the cold that seemed to be permanently enveloping wherever you went, in the place of the warm arms you wished for.

It wouldn't hurt to want the arms wrapping over you to be Mal's, would it? After all, your adoration was most certainly one-sided and probably slightly pathetic. Trying to cultivate his love would be like attempting to nurture flowers whilst roaming over the world, and never really returning to that first spot for enough of a time for it not to be too fleeting.

With your luck, the flowers with their charming, curling stems would be ripped out of the earth or wither away until weeds overtook them, swallowing them down, gluttonous beasts aiming to pull up their very roots by strangling them with their own.

Even thinking of his non-existent, hypothetical love could tug up those plants, replacing them with the green creatures crouching and festering below the soil; even considering it could show the seeds of... loathing from Mal. You just wouldn't risk it. Better safe than sorry.

So, the decision made that he was very much off-limits and a completely separate branch to your life's tree than any sort of endearing endeavour. You squatted, feet scratching over the dirt and fingers drawing swirling, cinnamon-beige patterns in the gravelly sand the wind had blown in from the coast, waiting for Mal to hurry with whatever he was doing.

To further convince you of your inevitable end, a group flocked behind their leader to approach you, sat up against the wall, brick upon brick digging uncomfortably into your back.

You pressed into the wall further.

They spat insults that were studded knives, cutting through flourished leaves and spectating as they turned a crinkled auburn whilst hitting the ground. And later, the lichen of belittlement grew, ensnaring you and dragging you to the dirt; you stayed stationary for a while before deciding enough was enough, daring to stand and brush off your clothes before shouldering through the group.

"Where'd you think you're going, little bird? Didn't you know, we still have a cage just waiting with your name on it? Saints, listening to your wails of self-pity may just make you the perfect songbird."

You shook your head and only went through the motions of dodging clawed hands that would surely catch your arm if you let them. Sighing, you shoved past in a much fiercer way, no longer caring for the potential of hurt to the people behind.

After what they had said, you thought you would rather watch them burn up in flames than care even slightly about their input.

Although, reaching your chest of belongings, your hands anchored themselves to its sides, splintered wood even knowing when to hold steadfast during the storm you embodied. Blunt fingernails dug to the wood's surface, eyes stinging but firmly dry in your definite anger and humiliation of the situation.

"Woah, what's this coming from?"

You didn't turn, simply stood, still straight-backed with arms left on the chest, eyes downcast. Eyes were trained on your back, you knew, no longer biting at gaping wounds made by words: you were certain of this because it was him. Mal.

Then, you were snapping out of a reverie that you thought malleable, readily shaped around your heart, the print of him written there.

The influence of love, as it rose from your chest, the rest of your body left numb, immovable, unnecessary for as long as you could gaze at him. You saw it in the stain sealant of the wooden chest before you, in the maroon scrawled swirls spread over your maps and in the way your eyes were steadily growing red at the edges as you caught your own gaze in the mirror.

And his questioning gaze, too.

"It's nothing, Mal." Saints, the words didn't sound anything like you wanted them to - weighted as gold, seeming to be just as valuable although intentioned to sound light and throwaway.

Now swivelling on your heel, you brushed past him, grasping a map and attempting not to claw it to tatters in your hands. You walked over to your scratched glass mirror, a shard broken off in the left corner, placing it flat on the desk before sliding down the edge of a chair, legs crumpled beneath you as you forced yourself to push on.

The map was opened and curled inwards quickly, you groaning. This could not be dealt with right now.

A tentative hand spread it over the floor again, pressing on one side while you were still holding the other.

Mal was crouched before you, head quirked to the side adorably, glancing at you before the depictions of parchment valleys. He sat beside you, hefting your legs atop his own as though second nature.

"So, what is it? Actually, I mean."

How well he knew you. How much it ached that he did.

"I'm asking to leave on an expedition tomorrow."

The statement hung in the air for a moment, untouched by you both, probably because you both felt it entirely too shocking - you had barely even known what would come out of your mouth before it was spoken into the air, unraveling and unable to be reeled in.

"Why?" Whatever you had expected, it hadn't been this. This was robust, a question spoken strongly, no quiver to be detected in his tone. This was what part of you was thinking, wondering how leaving was possibly a solution. Leaving was surrender, a back down.

And yet, it was one of the only things you could think to do.

"I just-" And you had no explanation you could give to him because even serving it on a gold rimmed platter would do nothing to stop how cowardly you felt, how awful you thought you were for leaving him.

"What? Tell me! Give me one reason... One reason, and I'll let you go."

You fumbled, hearing the desperation lining his voice as he moved to gently push your legs off his lap, instead moving so that he was knee to knee with you now, staring, trying to see any answer in your eyes.

Mal wasn't as angry as he was stern, ready to hear whatever you came up with. His eyebrows were pinched together, mouth downturned as he waited for you to bare your soul to him.

"It's one thing! Why are you going? Just tell me, what can be that bad?" He began with a voice that tapered off into something more quiet, small.

You hated this. You hated what you were doing to him.

And you hated it more when you stood, brushing yourself off and walking away, but not before placing a soft kiss on his cheek. An apology. One that you felt probably fell through.

Yet, you walked. Away from your space, your home, your Mal, for how could you stay to ruin them if you were giving up beforehand.

You walked like you planned to do the next morning. And he didn't dare follow.

You had been on expedition after expedition, sent anywhere and everywhere but where Mal was. He had come across you only once, pouring over the maps for your next trip.

He hadn't said a word, and you had only looked upon him with regret, already turning to leave. However, you did not blow out your candle in its holder, rather placing it down across a corner of his map folding inwards.

You both attempted to ignore the gnawing sense of dread and déjà vu constricting your hearts and lungs.

"Well, that was the worst escape attempt in history."

Saints, his voice almost rendered you useless.

"That wasn't the attempt." You wouldn't give it the opportunity to do so again. The softness between the two of you was long ago lost, flowers replaced by brambles and thorns, love bleeding through and, eventually, draining out.

You left, then.

Tears came to your eyes, making them glassy and reddened.

Friends you once were, lovers never to be.

#mal oretsev x reader #mal oretsev imagine #mal oretsev #malyen oretsev #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic

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esotericfaery · 3 months

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The Ascendant Sign: the Soul, Through the Spirit, With the Ego

TLDR: Ascendant & Sun signs briefly defined, The Moon, plus a hypothetical situation, and practical reminder of what to ask ourselves about.

As the Ascendant rises across the eastern horizon at each birth, it imbues us with the purest core of self-hood. This is the God/dess-spark which is still without ego; the part of a person which is still closer to the Divine, than it is and could possibly be during life itself. We are all spirits having the human experience; parts of one soul which is Divinity Itself.

This is why the chart is begun at the Ascendant, and why the Ascendant sign (most-directly-connected-to-Soul) is as important as the Sun (ego) sign. We’re parts of Creation, exploring Itself, and this ego-based experience is of equal importance with working to define exactly what Divinity is and how It functions.

The Ascendant brightly colours our future experiences, with our earliest memories. How do we naturally long to contribute to the world? How do people perceive us, as we give away clues to who we are, through body language, and regular vocal intonations? This is in the Ascendant sign.

Of almost equal importance is the Moon sign, as the Moon reflects egoic emotions generated through the Sun, thus intending to heighten those emotions. When worked with consciously, the Moon can help us to figure out that our emotions are only perceived as heightened because of this mirroring effect, and that sometimes we are merely unshielded, and picking up on the emotions of others.

There is a lot of misinformation online claiming that the Ascendant is only the mask we wear so that people don’t see our true selves. Rarely is the wider-reaching reason for this explored.

The ego spawns vulnerability.

We want something, and there is only one of that something.

We think we need it, because we have allowed ourselves to become attached to it.

It can be something trivial; there’s only one jar of the best peanut butter left at the store. Someone else is also reaching for it. You weren’t fast enough. And so because you’ve had a long annoying day at work, where your boss wanted you to do extra work without being paid extra, and you went along with it for job security. Meanwhile, one of your kids was sent home early sick, so you lost half a days work, and when all of the kids got home they were screaming about different things and wouldn’t settle down, so you thought your head would explode. Your spouse came home and you took the chance to get out of there; roll down the window and go for a drive. You want to distract yourself from all of the stress with food. You’re too tired to go to another store, and you need to sleep early for work tomorrow, so you’re pressed for time. So instead of sighing as you fail to get the last jar, and maybe buying something else or just going home, you yell at the person who got “your” peanut butter, like a child. Maybe you even swear. You know it’s wrong as you do it, but you do it anyway.

Why?

Vulnerability.

Some might say it’s only selfishness. It’s that too.

But it starts with vulnerability.

And yet we also manage to surprise ourselves when we finally lose it?

We’re taught it’s socially unacceptable to admit as adults that stresses are piling up, and becoming overwhelming. Because then we would have to admit that we would feel lesser than. We would have to confront our inner wounds; no not our past wounds, because we can run from ourselves, but we can’t hide. Vulnerability = denial, and perpetuation piles up more and more dissonant debris within our EM fields; fogging our brains.

No, we don’t have emotions. Only children would cry. I’m fine. No, there’s nothing in my tone. I have a happy family and everyone is fine.

The Ascendant is a return to the deepest recesses of the inner self, to where we remember in some way, who we were, where we came from, and how we can re-embody ourselves towards more idealistic thoughts, feelings, emotions, and behaviours. This is the core which must be reached, breached, and cleansed; the fire that must be stoked, and the steam that must be allowed to waft gently, yet fully outside of our physical bodies, and away from our EM fields.

We were Divine.

And just because we’re less Divine now, because we have egos, does that mean that we should, as many continue to do for entire lifetimes, forsake all Divinity? Should we refuse to look for different ways to handle stress as it arrises, or even make time for relaxing activities more regularly so that we can avoid at least some stress, or handle it easier?

Even if you lack time, you could give yourself 5 minutes before bed to meditate, listen to relaxing music, or do something else to decompress. It all adds up over time.

Let’s do it for each of us, for our kids, for our spouses, and for everyone in the World.

#astrology #rising signs #rising sign astrology #sun sign astrology #moon sign astrology #spiritual astrology

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