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bluntfish · 2 years

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Press-Me-Not, Gilded Anemone (Part III - Mutual Exchanges) [+18/NSFW]

Is it hard to ask for a date with an elusive man in the snow fields?

I am on my knees. I never thought I'll make another behemoth once more and my brainrot prevailed. Do I have the energy to make something akin to this? Perhaps in the future. No promises though. I underestimated myself last time after finishing CFL and god, I might as well do it again (in a different form since writing in this type of context got me wacked out). Still, thank you for reading this if you make it this far. You already made my day.

CW: sex (mostly mentioned but not purely explicit), comfort/angst themes. Minors DNI. 🐟

Your front door creaks open and closes behind you, where puddles of water pooled near the entrance. The sound of feet entering in. You’re back home, and Aurelius accompanies you this time. Warm lights fill the space with a flick of a switch. He sighs, removing his coat over one of your hangers and you do the same. The ornament on his turtleneck still hangs and swings when he lines his boots on top of your mats. He orients himself upright to adjust his sweater, then joins you in the kitchen.

Aurelius watches you opening the fridge, and sorting a few things. He then takes a glance over your countertop. It’s very neat and organized. Spices line up against the drawers, and your recipe box is stacked on top of the microwave.

“Do you mind if I look?” he inquired, holding the item of interest in his hands.

You nod with a hum. He shifts through it, noticing the neat handwriting explaining each dish and dessert.

“Huh,” he uttered, “are these yours?”

“My old man’s. He has much of a sweet tooth. Want me to make you some?”

“You don’t have to,” he says, closing the box back to its original place.

“Do you want a drink? I got fizzy pop and a few beers–”

“I’ll take a beer,” he quickly responded.

A beer can slid over the counter. Wiping the sweat from the can, he cracks the tab open and gulps the golden drink.

“If I knew you drink, I might have considered having a bar date instead,” you laughed.

You lead the marksman to your living room once more, arranged somewhat differently than his last visit. The sewing station was the same as ever, with your other coat waiting to be mended with a durable cloth scrap. The windowed door leading to the back view of the lake is closed shut. Two cans rest on the center table as you start up the fireplace. Aurelius takes a gander at the wall adjacent to the mantle. Photos of your family, how Raine used to be with the rolling plains and shimmering lakes. He eyes you as a wee child, and silently moves the corners of his mouth to a slight, upturn smile.

“You had a good life, (Y/N). These photos… you were loved.”

“No need to get so mushy with me. They’re what they are,” you softly giggled.

“But I’m serious. I wish I had something like that, even now.”

His stance was unwavering. Lost in memories and wistful look in his eyes, his hand fetters as it lowers to a side table. It’s decorated with more photos of your formative years. He nearly knocked off a frame but caught it in time. Sweat on the brow. You pretend you didn’t notice his fumble.

“Is your dad coming home soon?” Aurelius murmured.

“He’s out,” you hesitantly responded, “gone to my Aunt’s for karaoke.”

“He sings?”

“Pretty much. Won in some local competitions for a few years now. He won’t be back till the afternoon tomorrow. Probably.”

You walked to your sewing table and picked up a hefty, thick book. It’s decorated with embellished lines drawn on all of its corners. Similar to an embroidered handkerchief. The man walks up to you, curious about what you have. And you presented your pages. Sketches and notes of various plants and trees you observed in the wilderness or found online. Some, like the dried flowers Aurelius gave to you previously, were drawn in meticulous detail. Almost too lifelike for him at least.

“Wow,” he mutters with his eyes on you, “this is amazing.”

“Why, thank you for the compliment.”

“Where did you put the flowers by the way?”

Without saying a word, you gestured your hands toward your bedroom. He soon follows with a glimmer in his eyes. Gently the door was pushed open. The switch turned on to reveal what you have from the darkness. Homely and inviting your space was. Small knick-knacks laying on your shelves and windows. Your bed is tucked in the corner of your room, against the window. It can accommodate you, but with two people it would be a crowd. You’re trying not to come up with any ideas. Aurelius quipped about the corner of your room. His attention is on a pile of books on a table as you’re stacking more. Tomes of nature and wonder you read many times, but treated as paperweights for the meanwhile. He took a whiff of a familiar scent emitting from them.

“What are you doing over there?” he asks.

His hand glides over the hardcovers and nearly lifts one book till you stop him. Your hands, small and meager, overlap his.

“Flower pressing,” you said. “I want them to last a bit longer so I thought it would be nice to decorate parts of my sketchbook with those. They’re not done yet, so you have to wait. Maybe next week.”

“Sorry for being nosy,” he said with a smile.

You quickly withdrew your hand.

“Must be the liquid courage.”

“Maybe so,” he laughs.

“Well, Mr. Marksman, I have to cut the tour short,” you said gently shoving him out, “Your presence ever staying in my room will be unbearable to my psyche.”

“How so?”

“...I’ll get impure thoughts. And I don’t think you want to deal with that,” you replied with a muted voice.

He chuckles and plays along as he strolls out of there. If anything, the humble act of showing your room to him is endearing. Including your sudden modesty. You’re both back in the living room. The lights get dimmer as the fire warms the house. You sit close to Aurelius. The couch creases with both of your weights. Once again, he removes his glasses and tucks them around his zippered collar.

“So what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“It’s getting late. Are you busy tomorrow? Maybe we can talk later.”

“I mean, right now (Y/N).”

Thoughts rummage in your skull. Your arms rest against your chin as you lean over toward your knees. You’re contemplating. His hand draws upon his scarred face as he too thinks about what else to say. After meditating your mind further, you started to speak.

“About …the bed thing. How did you feel about it?”

The color of Aurelius’s face shot up.

“I-I was about to say. I felt like I was pushing myself but… I don’t know. Did you regret what we did? What have I done?”

“No regret came to mind. It was something that came up in the moment,” you nervously assured him, with your thumbs twiddling. “I thought if I didn’t do anything then, then I probably wouldn’t meet you again after that encounter. And you proved me wrong. B-But I did feel like it went too fast. If anything, maybe it was me that was pushing it too far.”

“I don’t think so,” he bluntly added, “though… I was worried that you didn’t enjoy it…”

“N-No I did! I wish it would…last longer.”

Aurelius stares at you. You return his glance. His arm reaches to yours and he’s holding your hands. Pulling you close to share his warmth. Engulfed by his warmth.

“It was reckless of me,” he whispers in a dour tone. “We barely know each other. I…I wonder why I agreed with it. But I won’t deny I got attached to you, (Y/N). You saved me.”

“I did?” you questioned.

“It’s been three years since I've devoted my life to the harsh climate of Raine. No sane person would opt to do so unless they had a death wish. But without it, I wouldn’t meet you. And I’m very thankful. However…”

His raspy voice trails off to the flames. You witnessed the fire reflected in his eyes.

“The solitude offered by the snowfields is what I wanted of course. But sometimes I feel I can't just be out here by myself. It’s very…lonely out here. I shared some of my thoughts with Marshal Zhong a few nights ago. It was… a response. But not what I was looking for. What’s your take?”

“Unsure if you want to be living on the tundra any longer, Aurelius?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind. It’s not like I have other places I can run to,” he admits.

“Then you could do both, you know.”

“Being a man of the snowfields and still be with you?”

“Yeah. You have an important job. You told me your stories, and I want you to keep doing that. Helping others when you can.”

“But came from a desire to escape–”

“Then does it matter what the original reason was?”

He was stunned by your sudden statement. The man paused with his head turned away. His hand is unmoving, his body still. Barely putting himself together, cracking from the pressure of the dark premonitions through his mind. Aurelius assumes to be a man made of restraint, though naturally, he is rather impulsive. Awkwardly he expresses this in his daily interactions, sometimes without thought. But intentional rashness has some caveats.

The last time he was acting on his heart fully cost the lives of his family in Utgard. His life spiraled as he was tugged and pulled by different factions. The city’s full of lions; fully capable to mash its plutocratic maws towards the destitute and those barely surviving. And Aurelius was well familiar with this game to the point of exhaustion. Those experiences became an extension of his current outings. As if it's all he knows. No peace in sight. A facade of a lone man wanting to connect not just nature but his kind. He doesn't know what's worse: admitting these feelings or dying without a breath of his struggles.

You sat in silence. The sudden cracks of wood burning across from you were the only sounds resonating in the space. Then, a breath. Out of your lips.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...about me?"

"Yes," you stated, "I can't read minds. What’s troubling you?"

Aurelius shakes. His breathing shortens. His hand was unable to hold its grip, resting upon his lap once more. His teeth meet his lip for a second. Then he's calm. A pin was raised. The unnerving vibe brought upon the man you desperately wanted to know.

"I'm not a good person."

"What? Why would you say that?"

"I've done some horrible things. You won't understand."

"But that's not what you are–"

"Don't assume what you think of me," he howled faintly.

You froze.

“I am just as horrible as those rich bastards who ruined my life. I did what I do to survive. But for what? I never asked to have a life like this. The things I’ve seen since I was given this power,” he says while gripping his hands, nearly leaving marks on his palms, “Inhuman. A pawn. That’s all I was. And here is no different. I used to be like you. With my family and now its–”

More words stammered out of his mouth. The sudden rise of his panicked voice could jump even the largest of animals. His eyes could dig through your skin. Skinning you whole. Without warning, you grabbed his hand and pulled yourself to his side with your arms bearing nothing but sympathy. A tight squeeze. You remain still but shaken. Nothing can surmount the stream of words failing to break out. Failing to break out of your vocal cords.

“What are you doing?” he sternly said with a tremble.

Aurelius hears a whimper, soon a croak. Fresh tears soaked his sweater. He looks down as you clung on, losing his train of thought. He silently rubs your back, hoping it would calm you down. It doesn’t. He tries it again, this time his entire body captures you in the frame. You were finally able to put together sentences.

“Do you think I’ll ditch you because of your past? Because of the people turning your life upside down? None of that changes how I feel, Aurelius.”

He says no more. The realization hits him. Nearly admitting his pain he thought of the worse outcome. That you won't want to associate with him. That you’ll sever his interest and he’ll be alone. But why is that wish not coming true, he pondered. You were firm, stiff as soggy cardboard, and still admired this man with kind eyes. He is puzzled. Why would you want to be with a broken man like him, he thought. As if he doesn’t think the multiple occasions you shared with him were not enough. It was never enough to ease his mind of its uncertainty. And yet, you defied those claims.

“…you’re not going to let me go?” he inquired with his voice quavering.

“Fate dealt you a bad hand. I can’t fix any of your past, your regrets. But I told you many times, didn’t I? I care about you. We just have to move forward.”

He uttered a confused hum. A kind of hum he didn’t realize at first. Typically he will believe the first thing out of your mind but Aurelius has become cautious, more conscientious. He doesn’t have the grace to speak out loud about his woes, for the fear of losing you. He doesn’t want to lose anyone again amidst his self-loathing. So he zips up his lips, unsure what to say. Except, for one thing.

“I really didn’t deserve this,” he shutters to himself.

“You do,” you asserted, “live for your present, Aurelius. We want you to be around longer.”

“We?” Aurelius repeated with concern.

“It’s not just me. Marshal Zhong, the people you encountered and helped. How can you be bad when you’re just doing what you can? Anyone would understand that. I lived here for my entire life, but a city like Utgard could make a kind-hearted person twisted. You’re just unraveling. Trying to be whole again after being freed. Right? Is that the real reason why you came here? Just to start over?”

Your head rests against his chest, under his chin. The light of the flames radiates your face. It fills in the missing heat after shedding so many tears, till you caught a drop on your cheek. Aurelius succumbs. His eyes puffed up, trying to wipe off the rolling tears with his freed hand. However, it doesn’t stop the jumbled words of his apology. Like a child distraught by his actions, he pleaded for forgiveness. Several times, you assured him of each one. Truly, for a man who suffered for so long, he’s trying to come to terms with his former agony.

“Why does my chest ache when you’re being so nice to me? Your honesty knows no bounds,” he cries.

“It’s what I know best.”

The both of you were mentally exhausted. Aurelius reaches for his unfinished can, as he hesitates to take everything at once. Though, he pushed through and immediately set it down with a refreshed expression. All he does is just lay back on the couch, staring at the fire kindling itself. And you are in his arms now he has your attention. He nearly mouths something, then his raspy voice emerges from his lips.

“I’m sorry for the outburst.”

“It’s alright. Not like you’re trying to make me run to the hills.”

“Good. That would be bad," he mutters.

You grinned with a slight chuckle, calming yourself down from his warmth. His hand limps over to your shoulder as he exhales and breathes again. A sigh of relief. His watery eyes dry up, only perceiving the light in front of him. Across the darkness. Mutual silence. No words were spoken between the two of you. Communicating through your hands, you gently join his grasp for your touch. Once more, you felt his finger reaching. Another wrapping your palms. His heat sears your arms, your body. As if you’re roasted over a bonfire, waiting for someone to put it out. Yet it never does.

“(Y/N),” he said in a soft voice, “if you become anything in the world, what would you be?”

“What do you mean?”

“...I was thinking if you could be like…an animal, or a thing. What would you want to be, if you were that?”

“A tree. I’ll be a tree,” you responded after some thought.

“How so?”

“...I always want to protect others, even when I’m not physically strong enough to do so. That doesn’t mean I want to neglect my well-being. I want to be rooted, well-grounded, but enough to take care of the people I love.”

You didn’t include the sudden insight you picked from your inquirer. Aurelius feels like the first embers of a forest fire. His touch alone could make you combust; his finger is the ignition set off from that particular night. Rapid like a backdraft. As much as you want to be consumed by him, you decide to withhold such words for later. He’s touched by your thoughtful answer as you sit there swimming in your head.

“Oh,” he hummed, “I figured you'd say that. My other guess would be a kind of flower.”

You giggled, ignoring the burning desire deep in your corporeal essence. “Or I could mention being a rabbit.”

“I’m grateful you’re predictable at least,” he says in his usual blunt tone.

“What about you? What would you be?”

His face contorts into contemplation. The energy that left him, the mired thoughts drowned itself off. He was not certain of what kind of plant he wanted to become. Or if he had any such thought about it.

“Do you want me to help you? You got quiet for a minute.”

“Would be nice. Your thoughts?" he quietly pleads.

“I think…you remind me of an anemone. Do you know what those are?”

Something sparked inside Aurelius. The flower came to him in a mental image, swaying in the wind.

“What color?” he whispered in eagerness.

“A white one. It means sincerity or…a love that is forlorn in some places. It’s from a book I read a while back.”

The man follows your mental throughline, listening with all intent. He identifies himself as a pale, white bloom. Fresh in spring, reaching towards the sun. And you, the person who tended the fields in his mind, plucked him off the ground. Gingerly snipped by the stem. From your tender hands, you carried him home. You put him in your best vase and he basked in the sunlight and warmth. Facing toward you constantly, turning his attention as you walked around your dwelling space. For your favor, for noticing him among the myriad of flowers. For once in his life, he feels lucky. Lucky to meet you amid his other thoughts. And a thought it was.

“Aurelius?”

“Mhm? Sorry.”

His face was full of peachy wonder. His tone of voice is a bit brighter. He’s enamored. Smitten. That’s the emotion he couldn’t pinpoint. His heart pumps harder, leaning close to your face. Another bold motion as his hand wraps your shoulder. Pulling you closer. Lost in his mind, his lips brush past your ear to quietly proclaim his feelings.

“I really don’t know if…this is love, or it's me wanting to be close. But could you…let me take care of you? Take care of me? Please. There’s nowhere I would rather be right now than here, (Y/N).”

He grew silent. Then you felt something moving across your face. Your heart bursts out with his sudden kiss on your cheek. You clung on, flabbergasted by the smooth transition attacking your lips to your neck.

“Whoa there loverboy, let's slow down a second,” you protested. He didn’t turn away. He had gotten more delicate, more familiar. He could be drowning himself from the floral scents of his jacket former. Or could be you. His exhale is deep, deep as his body yearns to merge itself into its match. Melting, melding to each other till nothing remains. He leaves the last pluck on your lips once more, and intently gazes at you. Embarrassed by what he did, but willing to claim his guilty behavior outright.

“Was I too forward?”

You were too flustered to even speak. You express your bemused deposition with an audible confirmation.

“I… I… didn’t mind it. It’s…nice.”

He gives you a look. The kind of look when animals leer at each other in the wild. Ones that make the relationship between hunter and prey. The fawn to his gray wolf. The heat of this encounter is more spartan than last time. More controlled. You figured that he was still restraining himself. If you give yourself wholeheartedly to his desire, you’re not sure if there’s any sense of self left in him, in you, in both of your hearts. And one thought permeates through the threshold of reason, a single thought that could break this pining to pinning your bodies together with a tack.

“Are you…going to…?”

“If you want to,” he murmurs.

“I’m asking you,” you clarified without sounding too wanting.

“I don't want to push it. I can stop.”

You reeled him back as when he backpedaled his body away. You earnestly want him to follow through with his actions. But in the end, he grew restless. He can’t think in the good conscience of being wrapped up like this. In the dark and your presence. His mind is mush. Some of it, you thought, could be the self-conscious actions Aurelius does to justify his doubts. But for this relationship to survive, there’s another thing to address to him.

You prepared your conscience by a heave and proceeded to tell some of the unsavory things in life. In your life. Things don’t usually go to plan, as living on the tundra does. There are times when you feel defeated or unable to change. Death of a loved one. Stuck in the snow, crying alone behind a forced smile. Even a picturesque life with your family doesn’t show the true colors. You appreciate Aurelius praising the life you have, but it is like anything else. It is what it is. You are what you are. A person who experiences varying degrees of sadness, pain, and loss. Just like him.

“I never knew you went through all of that,” he remarked.

“You deserved to know. Now we’re even,” you chimed.

He takes this information in leaving only a smile written over his face, holding you ever close suddenly. You did your best not to utter a word though it surprised you regardless. The fireplace is getting dimmer, but you don’t want to move your spot. Neither does he. Darkness overtakes the majority of your vision. Barely make out any of the shadows. Outlines of his body you trace with your only sense of touch. Taut, just as you remembered. His core is just as strong. You hear his faint breaths reacting as you make your way feeling his thigh till you paused and looked at him. You assume he probably has blood rushing to his head.

“Mr. Marksman… I…” you stuttered.

“We’re not strangers, (Y/N). Call me by my name,” he says.

“Aurelius,” you said with conviction.

You can hear him gulp. A loud one in some ways. Your fingers dance their way from resting on his sternum to his zippered collar. One of his hands broke free, grasping you from fiddling with his glasses tucked between its teeth. You feel small when he’s holding your hand. You like this feeling a lot. Wanting to ball up in his arms. Enveloped by his body tenfold.

You carefully continued, “how are you going to treat me? Making out or getting started with the act? Pick your poison.”

“No offense but I have no clue."

“We can help each other. If that’s okay?” you mumbled.

“Sure thing, but I have an idea. Maybe get on top and we can start there?”

You remove the glasses from his sweater and set it aside. Your legs start moving over his, sitting on his lap. Unsure what you’re doing, you rest against his chest. You’re not trying to think too hard about what he has going on down there. Do you think he knows? He probably knows what you’re doing as he instinctively rests his hand on your waist, sitting back on the couch. He’s getting comfortable with the new sensation.

“Are you alright?”

“M-Maybe,” you meekly responded.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll do my best if anything,” he whispers with assurance.

You’ve always known Aurelius has a pedant for being sensitive to your wants and needs. You know he’ll go out of his way to make himself comfortable for you. He says with quiet bravado but he’s just as nervous as you are. You can feel his hand shaking, either from excitement or the unnerved anxiousness when interacting with a person. Gently you wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed. Sweat accumulates between the two of you. A hidden heat emerges from your stomach—a pit of flame.

“Or maybe you’ll show me instead,” he mumbles.

You’re nervous. Drawing upon his fingers to your chin like striking a match, Aurelius gently glances at your face. Lost in words. Undecided on what step to follow your bones too. You met his gaze after avoiding his eyes, avoiding any reciprocation. Yet you’re being filled with a tender kiss. He’s taking the initiative. His hand digs deep, tugging you closer to his body. Sharing his heat. No words, just action in play.

“I’m a little impatient. I hope you can forgive me,” he apologizes absentmindedly amidst his sudden kissing.

You are familiar with what happens when an animal is out of breath. Its lungs max out their capacity after exerting their energy output. Sweat ducts exit the body or the animal pants constantly to exhale hot air to cool down. Whatever it is, it fails to do its job. Your mind drifts akin to a white kite sailing across the sky. The bitter cold blows it through. Strong winds. Forces of nature overcame and witnessed through the light cracks of your window. An intimate sight you don’t want anyone to see, lest you incur the wrath of what had come.

You’re like a naked stalk with its petals plucked. Akin to a child playing “loves me, loves me not”. Clothes are peeled away. Parts of your skin are bare. And the friction against the soft fabric between your legs is making you lose your grip on reason. Aurelius is already far gone in his mind, other than his quiet quips. Questioning his actions, hearing your reactions. Till he pulls your lower garments, you quake with sudden consciousness.

“…protection.”

He blinks. You mustered a timid smile as you quickly got off of him, not making an effort to cover your body.

“I-I’ll be right back. I need to get something.”

You run off to the darker parts of the house while Aurelius sits withholding any sudden shouts. You’re in your father’s room. There was a time you found something, a secret that he didn’t share with you, and you kept it locked in your mind if anything came about when you needed it. And now it's the time. You opened the nightstand and found small packages untouched. Checking the date, and it's still good for the next few weeks. You take two or three and leave it as it is. Knowing your father doesn’t keep the inventory of his condoms like the number of logs you saw through on the daily.

You enter the living room. Moonlight spills from the sliding doors. Aurelius adjusts his sweater, his pants, and his hair. He’s waiting as the fireplace light dies out. The man pulls himself up from the seat once he caught your sight and walks towards you with an embrace. You wrapped his arms to catch your breath.

“O-Okay we can continue. Sorry, I just want to make sure we’re safe doing this so I got something for you to wear,” you informed him.

He murmurs something inaudible. You could barely hear it from his raspy voice. Soon, your feet are being lifted off the ground. You’re being carried. Aurelius silences your outcries with a kiss as you’re lifted above his waist.

“Where to?” he asks in determination.

“Oh. U-Uh…”

Your eyes instinctively glance at your bedroom door. Then he slowly brings his body over, nudging his head against the entrance, and carefully walks into the dark room. The window light beams over your bed. You realize where this is going. He collapses over the mattress with you in his arms. His hands run on your bare back reaching lower.

“W-Wait, what about my—”

“Morning. We’ll fetch your clothes before your father finds us like this,” he hushes.

He pops off the sweater, knowing his body can’t contain the heat he’s emanating. His cheeks are blazing. You’re examining his scarred chest in full view. The sheer mass of Aurelius’s maleness is radiated by the glow outdoors. It's like you're watching a sculpture making its first gesture in life. You gasped as he reached your inner thigh. Clumsily wrapping, pressing against his upper waist. Your heart races. His hair obscures his vision as he continues where he last started. You felt something growing. Something big. It’s distracting. His pants are pulled down. You’re pinned on the sheets. As if you’re going to be pressed like the flowers you prepared.

Aurelius opens one of your hands to take what you borrowed, and he looks at it carefully. He tears it open and is speechless as it falls on your chest.

“What’s the matter?”

“N-Nothing,” he says, picking it up quickly.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” you teased.

Taking it as a challenge, his fingers quickly stretched the rubber over his member. But his first attempt was too quick.

“Damn it.”

He frowns in frustration. It ripped after his fumbling for five seconds.

“Here, let me just–”

You sat up and opened another. You asked Aurelius to hold still. He tries, holding his breath. You reach down holding the tip and roll it on. Avoiding eye contact, only staring at his chest. You try to be covert about it, but you took a quick peek. How big is it, you wonder? You felt it doesn’t accommodate the size of your hand, lest what he’s going to do to your insides in a few minutes. Regardless, he utters a faint moan from your touch. You shutter; the chills set in. You pulled your head back and looked at him.

"It's on."

"Thanks," he mutters sadly. His ego was bruised.

"What's up? You want to be sexy about it?"

"I want to impress you," he huffs.

"You already have, big guy. If you already got me like this, you're doing something right."

He sighs in agreement. He leans over, taking in your words as you're laying back against the sheets. Your arms drape behind his back.

He murmurs to your ears. “Let me know when.”

You clung on, once more pressed against his weight. Hoping you’ll take in what he has. He glances at your pleading eyes. Sealing your lips shut then he gets to work. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a faint sound. Just raw flesh meeting in unison. Gentle as gentle can be in your mind. Intimately whispering how he’ll treat you right in one thrust. Timidly proclaims his wants in another. At first. The moment when he truly relaxed, hell broke loose. You understand what he means when he gets selfish. You’re watching him making his decisions out loud with his hands. Becoming even less graceless and more coarse. And it excites you to see this man puppeteering himself without a master, without forethought. Just himself in the rhythm of bodies talking to each other.

It was all a blur. You’re praying for your father doesn’t connect the dots when he gets home. The puddle of clothes trailing to your room, underwear dropped on the ledge of your bed, and Aurelius taking your body as his own. You’re praying this night doesn’t end. You’re praying he’ll take you to the gates if you happen to die that night. You’re praying so hard that his passionate feelings will imprint on your torso.

“(Y/N)...” he uttered in sweat, “do you want me to stop?”

“N-No, keep going. I’m okay.”

His hands squeeze your mass. Fastening to your hips as you still hold on. Your brain came up with many excuses. Excuses to say when someone asks about your first time. Nothing is coming up. His sweat drops on your forehead, and you embrace him closer. His movement became erratic, but you didn’t mind. You utter small gasps, urging him to continue till the landmarks on your skin darken. Smothered. Claimed. The last thing you heard before his finish was a harsh groan. Twitching, then his muscles ease. The fire subsided into a flicker.

You curled up after cleaning up the act, tying up his condom to your trash can. Your clothes were picked off soon after Aurelius traced his steps from the bed to the couch. You, on the other hand, are sore on the sheets. It might take a century to recover what he did with your limbs. You crawled underneath the bedcovers till he entered the room door closed. He dumps the clothes on your center rug and then scoots onto your bed. You are afraid this will happen. The two of you barely fit on your mattress. He fixes this by lifting you off the bed, then lays down with you on top. Your legs tangling with his.

Aurelius stares at your ceiling decorations and you’re fidgeting your fingers around his neck. The wind is knocked out of him. He pants all wide-eyed. His head rested on one of your pillows while you gingerly rubbed his hair playfully.

“You were enjoying yourself,” you whispered to his ear.

“S-Sorry… I couldn’t help it. Was it too much? I can do it again,” he tiredly pleaded.

“Silly.”

You held him close as his arms wrapped around you, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re fine. You’re very manly, you know that?”

“M-Manly?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

He shook his head. The two of you lay there on the bed naked. Embracing still. Pondering what is to come in the future.

“Is it me or did I feel a lot better after sex?” he said while running his hand over his face.

“Did you?”

“Maybe I did,” he continued thinking out loud, “I feel like my mind floated somewhere far. Like a flower patch. Next time I’ll try better, (Y/N). I really lost myself, I think.”

“What if I told you that I enjoyed that?” you whispered to his ear.

“Really now?”

He blinks a few times. The room is dark, but you can tell he’s content hearing such praise. He quietly chuckles while you were smooching his lips a few times, giggles sneaking between each exchange.

“Maybe I should let myself loose more often. Thank you for listening to me. I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you.”

“No need to apologize. If anything, I’m relieved you got off of your chest.”

Your fingers join his, and your palm matches his palm. With this embrace, he sighs in silence.

“I love you.”

“Don’t say that out loud! My walls have ears,” you snorted.

He explodes into laughter till the two of you calm down staring at each other with tender affection.

“Didn’t you say before your pops will kill me if he finds us like this?”

“I mean, he could if he was in his prime,” you said, “but… I don’t think I’ll cry wolf for today.”

Shutting your eyes on his chest was the best feeling you had in a long while. You glance up, and Aurelius is out. You hear him snore softly, tuckered out from the energy he input for the night. You didn’t want to move or make the right decisions. You captured his heart, where you wanted him to be. And you hope he doesn’t let go.

When morning rolls about, you are awakened by the sun rays hitting your face, unmoving. Aurelius remains in the same spot. He’s still hugging you close as if he’s in a dream protecting you from danger. He murmurs in his latent slumber a slurry of words so nonsensical that it got you to chuckle.

“Aurelius,” you shake him.

“Don’t,” he stammered, “Stay. Stay with me.”

“Aurelius,” you call him again, “do you want breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“I can’t cook if you’re holding me tight, handsome.”

Aurelius sluggishly sits up, pulling your body along with his. His bed hair is impressive. It’s all over his face.

“Good morning,” you smiled, “ready to pretend that you got here during daybreak?”

“Do you want me to cover myself with snow on top of it?” he seriously contended.

“If you want to!”

The two of you followed up with your makeshift plan. Not blinking an eye about what happened a night ago. And soon, cooked eggs greet the morning rays from the window sill. Two plates, two cups, two of everything. He’s smiling more. Laughing even.

The weight of his past still affects him though he doesn’t have to carry it by himself anymore. At least with you, he’ll look forward to even the most cloudy of days. Chatting without a pine or yearn sometimes. And soon, you hope the first touches of spring will reach where you are. As long as you keep reaching, his touch will bloom onwards to better horizons. Your gilded anemone.

#dislyte aurelius #dislyte aurelius x reader #dislyte x reader #all three parts in total are a bit over 13k words and I can't believe I pushed through that djfkadjfkaj #anyway good night. idk what to write after releasing this. if you have a prompt feel free to send an ask #dislyte fanfiction #written by bluntfish

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fdlvh · 1 year

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Book review: 4/5

Spicy level: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Sins of the city series by K.J Charles

1) An unseen attraction 5/5

Description:

A slow-burning romance and a chilling mystery bind two singular men in the suspenseful first book of a new Victorian series from K. J. Charles. Lodging-house keeper Clem Talleyfer prefers a quiet life. He’s happy with his hobbies, his work—and especially with his lodger Rowley Green, who becomes a friend over their long fireside evenings together. If only neat, precise, irresistible Mr. Green were interested in more than friendship. . . . Rowley just wants to be left alone—at least until he meets Clem, with his odd, charming ways and his glorious eyes. Two quiet men, lodging in the same house, coming to an understanding . . . it could be perfect. Then the brutally murdered corpse of another lodger is dumped on their doorstep and their peaceful life is shattered. Now Clem and Rowley find themselves caught up in a mystery, threatened on all sides by violent men, with a deadly London fog closing in on them. If they’re to see their way through, the pair must learn to share their secrets—and their hearts.

Actual thoughts:

I was absolutely captured by the first book, the world-building is truly next level, as the gloomy setting, the descriptions, how precise and meticulous and intriguing is every piece of information given. I adored Rowley, his patience, his candor, his gentleness. I adored Clem, his problems, and the solutions he'd found to them, I loved the personalities living at the lodging house. The mystery and its resolution had me pacing for days wondering. The details: Clem's forgetfulness, Rowley's glasses, Cat that horrendous loving cat, the passion for such an unusual profession and the respect, and the respect the characters have for each other and their differences got to me and had me sobbing at the tender moments. I hated Clem's brother with a passion which makes him a wonderful character as well as the drunk priest. This was my very first book by K.J Charles and it left a mark, one hard to exceed.

My favorite part was how the story could be a compelling mystery, a soft romance with talks about boundaries, likes, and dislikes as well as a found family story. I love how Clem is portrayed and how defensive his friends are of him, how it talks about being different, and how it means so many different things, this book really broke me (in a good way, the best way) leaving me aching and crying about fictional men, leaving me to wonder how much difficulties people with disabilities, autism, and struggling with gender identity and orientation can face daily, can face in dating and showing love, how many have been overcome in centuries, how some kindness can change someone's life. This is still one of the best books I've ever read.

2) An unnatural vice 3/5

Description:

In the sordid streets of Victorian London, unwanted desire flares between two bitter enemies brought together by a deadly secret. Crusading journalist Nathaniel Roy is determined to expose spiritualists who exploit the grief of bereaved and vulnerable people. First on his list is the so-called Seer of London, Justin Lazarus. Nathaniel expects him to be a cheap, heartless fraud. He doesn’t expect to meet a man with a sinful smile and the eyes of a fallen angel—or that a shameless swindler will spark his desires for the first time in years. Justin feels no remorse for the lies he spins during his séances. His gullible clients simply bore him. Hostile, disbelieving, utterly irresistible Nathaniel is a fascinating challenge. And as their battle of wills and wits heats up, Justin finds he can’t stop thinking about the man who’s determined to ruin him. But Justin and Nathaniel are linked by more than their fast-growing obsession with one another. They are both caught up in an aristocratic family’s secrets, and Justin holds information that could be lethal. As killers, fanatics, and fog close in, Nathaniel is the only man Justin can trust—and, perhaps, the only man he could love.

Actual thoughts:

Fast-paced in confront to the first book and far too many repetitions of the same events with slight pov modifications, but maybe that's just me who read them one after the other. Less descriptions, fewer specifications, and not that many details yet it is a good haters-to-lovers story, one charged with sexual tension leaving the reader wondering if the next page would've contained a murder or a sex scene. I might've spent five good minutes laughing at certain scenes, such as Nathaniel collecting the first time he masturbated (he did so on a Saint Michael? I think, holy picture). I liked the switch of pace and themes, yet even as the story is interesting I was far too centralized on the mystery rather than the book's couple. Nathaniel felt too imperious without a proper justification for some matters but I loved his devotion, his fierceness. Justin is a tricky one, one that I cannot fully love or hate, he isn't a good man and I often found myself wondering if the relationship between Nathaniel and him could really function in the long run. Justin is a bad person, not even for his tricks or job but for his interpretation of feelings relevance and despite understating where he is coming from, the hurt, and the trauma I cannot fully sympathize or excuse his behavior which makes him incredibly human and well fucking written. I didn't like them as a couple, and while it made for a funny thought, them getting together, I really ended the book with a bitter taste in my mouth and the need to pick up the last book of the trilogy to discover the plot's end.

3) An unsuitable heir 3/5

Description:

A private detective finds passion, danger, and the love of a lifetime when he hunts down a lost earl in Victorian London. On the trail of an aristocrat’s secret son, enquiry agent Mark Braglewicz finds his quarry in a music hall, performing as a trapeze artist with his twin sister. Graceful, beautiful, elusive, and strong, Pen Starling is like nobody Mark’s ever met—and everything he’s ever wanted. But the long-haired acrobat has an earldom and a fortune to claim. Pen doesn’t want to live as any sort of man, least of all a nobleman. The thought of being wealthy, titled, and always in the public eye is horrifying. He likes his life now—his days on the trapeze, his nights with Mark. And he won’t be pushed into taking a title that would destroy his soul. But there’s a killer stalking London’s foggy streets, and more lives than just Pen’s are at risk. Mark decides he must force the reluctant heir from music hall to manor house, to save Pen’s neck. Betrayed by the one man he thought he could trust, Pen never wants to see his lover again. But when the killer comes after him, Pen must find a way to forgive—or he might not live long enough for Mark to make amends.

Actual thoughts:

Perhaps the book I liked less, even less detail and descriptions, and even less time spent between main characters to accommodate the main plot which made this relationship feel pressured and imposed. I really couldn't bring myself to care for Pen, I loved the idea of a nonbinary count fighting not to live his life as a man in eyes of society, I really liked his rapport with his sister as I like all sibling bonds written by Charles honestly. Nonetheless, I didn't enjoy Pen, he seems too reluctant and afraid to jump head-first into a relationship, and even if he wanted one it felt he would've been better off figuring out himself foremost. While in the story there is a waiting game, a beautiful understanding, and impressively modern speeches Pen and Marks's relationship still didn't feel right, not to the point of calling it love. I also didn't like Mark, while very open and aiming to please he often came off as rough and unpleasant. I really liked the resolution, liked the evolution of Clem throughout the three books, and how much some of their most strong views turned opposite or shattered completely. I loved the found family the Jack and Knaves offers and how strange outside of it the group of friends may seem. I enjoyed Phyllis and how female characters in Charles's books aren't any less fun and interesting than men or the main characters get depicted.

#gay books #book blog #bookblr #booktok #kj charles #An unseen attraction #An unsuitable heir #An unnatural vice #The society gentleman series #romance books #gay #mystery books

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adhd-asd · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: "i have ADHD and ASD, I don’t know if they really play a role in my difficulty to write scripts or outlines, but it seems like whenever i want to start a story project and visualise it into writing and art, it just…..doesn’t work? Like, i have story ideas, but the way they come out never meet my satisfaction or, at least, the way i write them, feels too restricting and….i don’t know?

writing scripts, the dialogue feels very bland and tedious - writing outlines is fine for me but i put too much thought into them to the point they are restricting. but, also, when i try to make up a story as i go with a basic plot in mind, i lose a massive sense of direction if i don’t have an outline or script. and i just feel very, very stuck."

If you're just looking for a short-form list of tips and tricks that might help make creating easier, I have a post here that offers advice on writing with ADHD that you may find helpful.

However, I found this question really interesting and wanted to do a more in-depth exploration of the topic of creating with ADHD/ASD and the difficulties that can come with that, as well. I have a lot of thoughts on the topic as an ADHD/ASD creator myself, so it got quite long, but I hope you might find some of them interesting or useful.

Do ADHD/ASD Play a Role?

Firstly, I believe that my ADHD and ASD affect just about every part of my life, including my creative process, and I imagine the same is likely true for you. It's entirely plausible (and I would even say likely) that they're playing a part in the conflict you feel when trying to create.

That being said, I also believe that there are ways we can accommodate or work around our unique challenges rather than putting effort into trying to overcome them or letting them get us down. I also don't think your difficulties are exclusively a result of ADHD/ASD, either, and I'll be discussing both points in more detail below.

On Meeting Your Own Expectations

I think, at least to some extent, your first paragraph could apply to most creators, regardless of ADHD/ASD.

Very rarely do I find that my works end up matching what I visualise in my mind, and it can often be frustrating and demotivating when what I produce seems inferior to the hypothetical version I had planned or envisioned. And I've seen this same sentiment expressed by a lot of artists and writers.

When those feelings crop up, I try to remind myself that it's okay, nobody else has seen the hypothetical 'perfect version' of what I was trying to create that's in my mind, and they'll be judging the work on its own merits instead. I think an important part of being a creator is consciously working on accepting that things will almost never go exactly as envisioned, and that's okay. It's not a reason to abandon the work, and the more you keep creating, the more practice you'll have getting your ideas down.

It's definitely easier said than done, but as with all creative pursuits, feeling beholden to perfection will ultimately prevent you from getting anything done or growing as a creator, and sometimes you have to just let things go and keep moving forward. A work doesn't have to be perfect to have value and be worthy of praise.

On Perfectionism

All that being said, I wouldn't be at all surprised if your ADHD and ASD were compounding on this common experience to a degree. It's very common for people with ASD to be inflexible and extremely detail-oriented, and many an ADHDer can struggle with perfectionism (which I've briefly discussed in the second half of this post). Falling into the trap of obsessively tweaking things until they're just right is pretty easy.

The good news is that I think when you're aware that these are pitfalls you're likely to experience, you can better notice them and implement measures to help you work around them. Better understanding your symptoms and being kind to yourself when you experience them can make the situation less hostile, and researching how to cope with/compensate for them could help not only with your creative process, but other areas of life as well.

On Finding Your Creative Process

A big part of creating is finding a process that works for you.

Some people plan in meticulous detail while others fly by the seat of their pants; some prepare outlines and tough drafts and follow the steps in order and others bounce around and make it up as they go.

From the way you're describing things, it sounds like your current process isn't working for you, and you may benefit from changing your approach to creating entirely. You already seem to be consciously aware of the parts that are causing the most difficulty and frustration for you, so the next step is to brainstorm how to modify them to make your creativity more accessible to you.

I, for example, write scenes out of order and constantly go back and add to them as I get new ideas. I also draw my lineart in random sections, moving on to a new one anytime I get bored (even if the current section isn't finished) until it eventually comes together like a patchwork quilt. These are some ways I've found to keep things interesting and keep me engaged in the work, and they may seem weird, but they sure do work!

So Let's Do Some Brainstorming

If you overthink your outlines and then feel stifled by them, try deliberately limiting how much detail you allow yourself to include. It's not an 'all or nothing' situation, and you can practise and experiment with varying document layouts and amounts of detail until you've found something that feels more approachable.

If you're currently writing paragraphs, try bullet points, or a flow chart, or sticky notes that you can rearrange. If you plot out every detail, try starting with only the most major events so you always have some direction for where the story is going but still allow for more freedom and creativity. If you spend hours on an outline, try setting a timer so you only have a set amount of time for each point.

And remember that you can change your outline as you go! If you're so caught up in following your outline that it's stifling your creativity, maybe it's an issue of perspective rather than process. Remind yourself that your outline is a tool to help you and that you're free to adjust it whenever it's not serving its purpose.

I don't know what your current process looks like so maybe these specific examples aren't helpful to you, but hopefully they can illustrate how to look at the areas where you're getting stuck and find a way to change them so that they suit your needs. Even if it seems unconventional or doesn't align with the process other people use or have told you to use, it's important to do what works for you.

In Summary / TL;DR

Creativity in general often comes down to experimenting until you find a method/process/style that works for you, and that's true for anyone. It's also true that art rarely goes exactly as planned, and sometimes you just have to accept that you've done well enough and move on.

But when you're a creator with ADHD/ASD, it can be extra difficult to do so because of our unique challenges related to internal motivation, perfectionism, and staying focused and flexible. Being aware of your symptoms and the challenges that they might present, and specifically tailoring your workspace and process to account for them while being kind to yourself when you find yourself struggling, can allow you to create with a lot less frustration.

None of these changes will happen instantaneously, but hopefully being aware of them and making the effort over time will help you to start seeing a difference in your work. Good luck!

#adhd #asd #actually adhd #actually autistic #autism #Brady answers #tips

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

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bsd as their zodiac signs | armed detective agency

a/n: i started out this blog with a hq as their zodiac signs post so i thought i should do one for bsd too !!

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

osamu dazai | gemini

oh god i fucking knew it like dazai just screams gemini to me it's not even a surprise at this point

intelligence? check. sense of humor? check. talkative/chatty? check. dual-sidedness? check.

him being chaotic as fuck and unpredictable is just very gemini

as well as him being able to switch between being more light-hearted and cracking jokes to being all serious and kinda intimidating

geminis, like other air signs, are known for being intellectual too and quite skilled at a lot of things

aka dazai's many hidden talents (he apparently control his own heart rate like bitch wtf---)

he's not exactly the most loyal person either but more for the reasons that dazai thinks it's probably superficial. he knows very well that things can easily change with time and is adaptive because of that

very good at just,,, avoiding things in general

his legs are long because he uses them to run away from his problems

isn't the best when it comes to empathy and he definitely has a hard time connecting to people emotionally

but when he does, he treasures them quite dearly

his love language is roasting even though he is a bit of a flirt

that said, he likes being around people who just understand him in a way that even dazai doesn't

in terms of ideal partner, i think dazai wouldn't mind someone who's different from him personality-wise and he can get along with pretty much anyone

kunikida doppo | virgo

i was guessing that this guy was either a virgo or a capricorn and he definitely fits being a virgo

him being super rigid and organized when it comes to his work and schedule is very virgo since they're especially meticulous

just like dazai's he's very much a 'what are emotions?' kind of person (jk he knows anger but that's also because of dazai)

kunikida can also get quite nitpicky but that's because he expects a certain standard when it comes to things

he's a huge fan of marie kondo and declutters his house regularly. probably has a spice rack that's arranged in alphabetical order

him hating things that are out of schedule or haphazardly-made, spur-of-the-moment plans is also very virgo

SO good at repressing sadness and negative thoughts so he needs someone to truly open up with

also very detail-oriented. he'll take notice if things are just the slightest bit different or off. it helps him a lot in missions since he's very observant

king of self-control like how does he even do it ??

doesn't smoke or drink or any of those things

heck, he doesn't even eat junk food or sleep in late

okay but i feel like when or if he does get drunk, kunikida would already buy himself some hangover cures and place a glass of water on his nightstand table for hungover!kunikida

i feel like he has an aquarius placement in mars because of his idealism

atsushi nakajima | taurus

ngl i didn't really picture him as a taurus so i feel like his moon is in cancer because of how gentle and warm he is as a person (wow i'm really stroking my own cancer ego here)

a very loyal king and more than a little stubborn when it comes to that but he's very reliable

it actually bothers him a lot when he's unable to get something required of him done, whether its a really important mission or just something small

has an EXCELLENT memory for things. like, if you mention absentmindedly that you like orange popsicles he'll suddenly buy them for you because he knows you like them

atsushi probably really loves being in nature too and taking hikes when he's not too busy with work

just,, imagine him,,, picking wildflowers,,, and bringing them to the office,,, i'm soft i can't

he has a thing for making money but very careful about spending. the only time he really does spend is when he's giving to other people (like kyouka)

buying stuff for people = buying stuff for himself

okay but most of atsushi's money is spent on buying food (aka chazuke) and i bet he's invested some time in cooking for himself

has a stubborn streak but it's mostly fixated at how much he cares for people

he'll go out of his way to plan birthday parties or do a favor for someone even after telling him he doesn’t have to

edogawa ranpo | libra

another smart air sign boi !!

libras are like the uwu air signs but in my experience no two libras are the same and a lot of their personality kind of depends on their other placements

kind of like dazai, ranpo isn’t one to easily empathize with people and he’s a bit dense when it comes to detecting emotional cues

has an inability to specifically choose what he wants to eat so he solves it by choosing everything

aka will clean out the convenience store with one visit and then probably call kunikida if he doesn’t have enough money

libras are also known to be very affectionate around people and also quite charming

you can see this in ranpo as he does have that skill of manipulating people. he can easily cause them to be frustrated and lose their cool (case in point: chuuya)

and in many ways, his attitude and skill demands respect from his peers

libras are also driven by a need for justice and ranpo does exhibit this is a bit

his idea of justice is quite different from kunikida since ranpo has a bit more self-preserving tendencies

but for him, the idea ‘what’s right’ is attributed to the people he knows has a strong moral compass (aka, he’d do anything to support/follow fukuzawa and kunikida ideals)

although i do think ranpo also has a basic sense of doing what’s right and he does it for the detective agency

he’s really good at arguing even though he probably hates arguing. but he DOES lowkey love watching people fight

sometimes he’ll stir the pot a bit in the office but fukuzawa already knows ranpo started it

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa @whootwhoot @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs @violentfarewll

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #osamu dazai #dazai #osamu dazai headcanons #kunikida doppo #kunikida #kunikida doppo headcanons #atsushi nakajima #atsushi #atsushi nakajima headcanons #edogawa ranpo #ranpo #edogawa ranpo headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines

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kanrakixystix · 3 years

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Uncommon Time -- Huntech

Back at it again with the spite posting. Can't believe it's been almost a week since I was "canceled." Wild fucking times we live in, my dudes.

Anyway, enjoy this adorable thing.

Prompt: Temple Kisses Rating: G

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30778700

Most days, Hunter likes to think that he has a bit of luck on his side. For one, he hadn’t been immediately discarded when it was discovered that he was a defected clone. That, in his humble opinion, is lucky in itself. To have been “born” with a desirable mutation, no matter how inconvenient it is most times, is also pretty lucky. It means that there is a much slimmer chance that he’ll be recalled for reconditioning or decommissioning unless he really messes up, and those instances are few. He has friends, brothers even, that he can depend on with his life scattered across the galaxy. He might not know all of them, but he knows that deep down, if faced with a choice to turn tail or save his brothers, he will save them every time, even if some of them don’t deserve it. He’s no God, and who lives and who dies, though he may try, is not a decision that he gets to make.

As such luck would have it, he has none of it today. The Chaos Marauder took a pretty big hit that, in Tech’s defense, was unavoidable, but that doesn’t mean that it took any less damage. Crashing it on the nearest planet is also not ideal, though he supposes that of all the ones in the system, this one is the least hostile, despite the strange electric currents that continually run through the air. Hunter is definitely not a fan of those. It makes his senses go haywire.

On top of that, the part that they need to fix it is way too many clicks away in the nearest point of civilization. According to Tech’s intel, the locals were friendly enough, but this is the Outer Rim. No one is quite as friendly as they seem. Thankfully, Echo has a way with words, and if things go wrong with the natives and their negotiations, Wrecker is there to be scary, and Crosshair...well, he’s just scary.

Which leaves Hunter to fix what they can with Tech, and that’s fine. Tech is usually the one to do upkeep and maintenance on the ship, and he’s meticulous about it, so Hunter knows that the Chaos Marauder is in the best hands. Yet, for as detail oriented as he is, there’s a lot to work on, and Hunter really could use an extra pair of hands right about now. This engine block isn’t going to fix itself, and the spare parts are on the ship in the galley. As it is, he’s pretty tied up and covered in grease that he’d rather not drag onto the ship.

Sighing, Hunter wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. He’s only now realized how drenched he is from sweat. His shirt is pretty damp, and his bandana is soaked to the point that it absolutely cannot hold any more fluid. Reaching up, he undoes the knot and uses it to clean his hands before tapping his communicator.

“Hey, Tech? I could use some help out here,” he says conversationally, knowing that Tech is likely running diagnostics on every little thing to ensure that the ship is in tip-top shape while they’re grounded.

After a few beats with no response, Hunter tries again.

“Tech, do you copy?” Still nothing. “Tech?”

After the third failed attempt to get Tech over the comm, Hunter growls and slides himself out from under the ship. He grimaces as the afternoon sun beats down on him, and scoffs when blocking the sun with his hand does nothing to ease how bright it’s shining in the lavender sky.

It doesn’t take him long to find the man in question. No sooner does he enter the ship does he see Tech in the cockpit, but when he opens his mouth to call out to him, he sees why there was no response, and he takes a moment to lean against the frame of the door and watch.

Tech is dressed in his blacks, but his helmet is securely over his head. It’s only because of Hunter’s heightened senses that he’s able to hear the music that’s playing in the headset, and he barely keeps from laughing out loud at Tech’s choice of upbeat techno. His foot is tapping to the beat, and his hips wiggle in the most adorable way as he dances around, looking at the analytics on his datapad.

After waiting an ample amount of time for Tech to see him, Hunter chuckles and paces over to him. Tech’s back is turned to him, and part of Hunter feels bad for what he’s about to do. The other part, however, feels no remorse when he knocks on Tech’s bucket and startles the life out of him.

“Hunter!”

As Tech scrambles to turn off the music and take off his helmet, Hunter chuckles and grins at him. Now that they’re eye to eye, he can’t miss the bright red tint of embarrassment that’s rising into his cheeks, or the big eyes that are mildly upset that he’s been caught.

“I’ve been trying to call you, but you seemed a little preoccupied,” Hunter tells him straightforwardly.

“S-Sorry,” Tech apologizes sheepishly and drums his hands on his helmet nervously. “I didn’t hear you over the music.”

Hunter shakes his head, grateful to have this moment with him, and he leans down to place a soft, chaste kiss to his temple. He can’t tell if doing so only winds Tech up more, or if it actually does help to calm him down a little. Either way, the blush on his cheeks is cute, and Hunter fights the urge to pinch them.

“How is she?” he asks in reference to his ship.

“Hm, the hit took out a small portion of our electrical and put a bit of damage on our shields, but we should have spare parts around to fix those,” Tech explains, immediately falling back into his usual self. “As for that radiator…”

“I know,” Hunter grumbles. “Been under her trying to clean it up when I noticed the engine block was damaged.”

Tech winces, but Hunter waves it off.

“It’ll be fine. I just need the parts box from the storage under the galley, and well, that’s where you were supposed to come in.” Hunter’s grin widens as Tech continues to get flustered.

“I said I was sorry,” Tech argues lamely.

“And I kissed you,” Hunter tosses back and winks before he steps away.

“What does that mean?” The question follows him, as does Tech, who is now vastly more interested in the notion of a temple kiss than his poppy techno.

“It means…” Hunter pauses and grabs the aforementioned parts box from the storage container, “that I think you’re cute and all is forgiven.”

There is definitely a blush on his cheeks now, and Hunter moves around him to head back down the ramp. “I could still use your help if you have a minute between dance routines.”

He doesn’t miss the way Tech bristles and walks after him again.

“Are you ever going to let me live this down?” He whines with an indignant pout that just makes him look even more precious, and Hunter wonders for a brief moment how he got so damn lucky with Tech.

“Absolutely not.”

#huntech #bad batch hunter #bad batch tech #hunter x tech #clonecest #clone shipping #clone x clone #oneshot #fuck the antis

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alivefm · 3 years

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( megan fox / 35 / she/her ) – ( jolene ‘jo’ munroe ) has been spotted in ravenswood. they said to originally be from ( salem, oregon ) and used to work as ( coroner ). They’ve been in the compound for ( three months ), working as ( fisherwoman ) to earn their keep and since then, others have seen their ( irritable ) but seemingly ( meticulous ) nature.

GENERAL

FULL NAME. jolene bianca munroe.

NICKNAMES. jo.

AGE & BIRTHDATE. 35 years old ; june 5.

GENDER & PRONOUNS. cis female ; she/her.

ORIENTATION. lesbian.

MARITAL STATUS. single.

RELIGION. agnostic.

OCCUPATION. fisherwoman ( former coroner ).

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR. dark brown.

EYE COLOUR. baby blue.

BUILD. athletic.

MARKS. faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, a beauty mark on her right hip & left index finger.

TATTOOS. small black rose behind right ear, faded mc logo on right shoulder blade, dad’s year of birth & year of death written in roman numerals along left side of collarbone, skeleton ribcage intertwined with thorny roses on inner left forearm, zodiac sign on inner right wrist .

PIERCINGS. lobes ( x3 ), left helix, both nipples.

HEIGHT. 5'4".

FACECLAIM. megan fox.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC. gemini.

ALIGNMENT. chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS. ravenclaw or slytherin.

LABEL. the facade.

POSITIVE TRAITS. fervent, incisive, intuitive, meticulous, valiant.

NEGATIVE TRAITS. evasive, headstrong, inquisitive, irritable, uninhibited.

HOBBIES. fishing, pitching in her two cents worth with the medics (whether it’s asked for or not), more tba.

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH. salem, oregon.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. ravenswood, washington.

NATIONALITY. american.

ETHNICITY. white.

PARENTS. randall ’randy’ munroe ( father ) ; was extremely close to her dad, one of the few people she completely trusted and idolized. biological mom unknown.

SIBLINGS. tucker munroe ( half brother ) ; same dad, different moms. indifferent to each other growing up, keith’s death brought them together & they shared a close bond. currently mia.

BIRTH ORDER. eldest.

CHILDREN. none.

LANGUAGES. english, broken spanish.

HISTORY

EARLY STAGES. she was born and raised in salem, oregon without knowing her mother ( who’d abandoned her and her father when jo was just a baby ). her dad, randy, and his family did their absolute best to raise jolene with what resources they had. the munroe’s were engaged in criminal activities, which she adamantly refused to participate in, wanting to separate herself from the stigma attached to the family name by studying and working hard. as family, though, jo felt an obligation to always be loyal, and as a coroner, she would cover up the real cause of death with a fabrication of her own if the truth ever directly linked to anyone in her family.

HELLISH OUTBREAK. the first interaction she had with the undead was while she was on the clock. a john doe had been brought in, no identification, and it was just her that night, other than the lone security guard. after finishing a routine autopsy and then hearing banging coming from the refrigerated storage, jo’s curiosity lead her into a scuffle with the formerly, entirely deceased. fortunately, the security guard broke it up and saved jo from a lethal mauling. unfortunately, said guard ended up receiving the same mauling he had pried her from. escaping out into the chaos that had been unfolding on the streets, she linked up with her brother and together they abandoned everything they knew in order to survive.

they would meet up with other survivors for short periods of time, usually just to help each other out if needed, before going their separate ways again. it was the two of them against the world, until it wasn’t. while scavenging for supplies in an abandoned town, a horde of the undead caught them off guard and they were forced to separate, evidently losing each other. jo tried for days to track him down, to find any sort of hint or clue to his whereabouts, but always came up with nothing.

it was while she was on the hunt that she stumbled across a damsel in distress ( @rubydelgado ), quick reflexes saving the other woman from a fate worse than death with a shot clean through the infected’s head. while jo had instinctively learned not to trust anyone other than her brother, she didn’t have the heart to abandon ruby, especially considering she was also on her own. with time, jo taught the other how to defend herself, and they stuck together through thick and thin, developing an unbreakable bound by the time they reached ravenswood.

COMPOUND LIFE. despite the hardships the new world has delivered, jo has softened a great deal, finally understanding that being able to trust good people is the key to strength in a community. she’s very much a team player, and wants whatever’s best for the people she’s grown attached to in ravenswood, but she still holds certain reservations, especially in regards to oversharing the specifics of her family.

while she has firsthand experience with the deceased, the former coroner doesn’t want anything to do with the animated version, unless she’s putting it to rest. so, instead of volunteering to hop into the medical branch of their community, jo settled on a different way to pitch in; fishing. it was something she learned and mastered as a means of survival since the initial outbreak, and the job itself was a lot less stressful in comparison to what some others were enlisted to do. but that doesn’t mean jo isn’t on standby - when the going gets tough, she’s always ready to jump into action.

CONNECTIONS

HALF BROTHER. this is definitely not needed, but it would def spice things up and rock jo’s carefully sculpted world. they were distant growing up, but linked up to mourn over their dad and had been close ever since. they were forced to split up and evidently lost each other while escaping a zombie horde, so for all jo knows, he could be dead. or ..... maybe he’s still alive.

FISHING BUDDY. two pals catching fish, shooting the shit; a wholesome bubble created to escape the insanity around them, if only for a couple hours. this should be a very carefree friendship, relaxed & silly at times. they probably reminisce over the old world and all the simple pleasures they took for granted, maybe they partake in a little harmless gossiping / ‘neighborhood watch’?? anything dumb to keep themselves entertained while waiting for a bite.

ENTANGLEMENT. a means of relieving high stress is always needed while surviving a zombie apocalypse, which is how this whole mess started. the idea was having something like a booty call, intimacy without the strings because it’s too wild of a life out here to build something solid. they’ve foolishly gotten attached overtime, though neither will admit it, so they’ve never had the “what are we” conversation and, so far, they’re content with that. obv more detail, etc. can be discussed.

FRICTION. obviously not everything is gonna be peaches and cream all the time, every single person isn’t going to see eye to eye with the next person, and jo isn’t exactly the easiest person to handle. so give me the Tension. whether it’s subtle jabs & 'if looks could kill’, or full blown arguments & destruction, or somewhere in between.

ANYTHING. literally anything. i blame my groggy state of mind on my lack of creativity rn so please, i’m beggin. if jolene can enrich your characters’ lives in any way, shape, or form, hit me up and we’ll hatch a plan.

#harvesthq:intro #yikes i'll add onto this later

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weaselle · 4 years

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Sims 4 Build

OK. So. I started a new play through a while back and I wanted my sims to go out to eat and if you aren’t familiar with the Sims there are only bar/lounges and of course that ridiculous place in the faux Hollywood world. So I went to the Gallery and downloaded a couple of restaurants and...

Because I have worked for 25 years in the F&B service industry, I immediately became salty about a number of things.

And that’s why I built this restaurant, full of all the things people leave out of their restaurant builds.

See, it’s not a house. Stop building house shaped restaurants. And, nobody includes parking lots, but since I did, I made sure the handicap spots are the two closest to an entrance and have a loading zone adjacent.

I’m detail oriented in my sims builds.

If you’ve worked in restaurants, you’ll identify with all the commonalities I’ve found missing in most gallery builds that I’ve applied to this restaurant, even if you don’t play Sims.

If you haven’t worked in restaurants but you do build them in Sims 4, you could view this as a tutorial

FOH - The Floor

First of all, idk what people are looking at when they go out to eat, but evidently it isn’t the seating arrangements -- I kept finding restaurant after restaurant that seemed to have no ideal how to set up a dining area with tables. Like, the tables would be so crammed together the sims couldn’t actually walk between them, or they’d have a white cloth establishment with almost all 6 and/or 8 tops (a six-top is a table with six chairs) and almost no 2 or 4 tops; sometimes there would be like, mostly 10 or 12 tops!

Or they’d put chairs on every side of every table even though this makes everything cramped, or they’d jigsaw a bunch of different table sizes into a giant crowded square filling most of the restaurant. But mostly I saw people... doing all of these things at once they were all just doing all of this all the time omg.

(Though I did see a couple builds where they had a huuge restaurant and then like, five small tables) Nobody seemed to know how many people a space should comfortably seat, or how many tables/seats a restaurant might need, or how to set them up

look

some things to notice:

This seats 46. That’s good. When we move into the bar the bar tables and seating at the bar are going to bring it up to 63. Depending on your restaurant you’ll usually have between 40 and 80 seats, so I’m hitting my target perfectly.

more than half the tables are 2 tops, but more than half the chairs are at larger tables; this isn’t like, a rule, but does mean there is probably close to the right mix of table sizes, especially for a white table cloth kinda place. There are only two “large” tables, which is about right.

The layout is easy to comprehend and section out. This floor easily lends itself to a two-server or four-server shift, and three servers isn’t hard to figure out. Like, I know exactly which tables each server would have as a four-server shift transitioned down to the closer over the evening.

It’s nearly symmetrical but not quite 100% which is what you usually see in a restaurant.

The lights are not placed randomly. You might think this doesn’t need to be pointed out. You’d be surprised.

There is plenty of room to move between the tables and have guests feel like they have their own area, with like, lanes to walk down, but there is no wasted space. It’s very full, but not at all crowded.

There’s a defined entrance, with a waiting area. The game tells you that you have to include this host station

which, yeah, some places just have a simple podium, but I built it out to help define the entrance, which has a menu stand and some seating for a wait list and the host stand has clutter like extra table tent menus and a condiment caddy.

Similarly, the game says you need this server station

but I turned it into this

Now THAT’s a server station, with a drinks fridge, extra menus, plates, condiment shelves, and a coffee pot, which is orange for decaf because theres a regular coffee station that includes an espresso machine behind the bar. See?

Lastly, you can’t really tell from the pics so far, but the dining room and bar seating is only about half of the total space in the building, which is about right.

Here’s the bar tops

and the bar, which has a pass window right to the kitchen line, under the TV (don’t worry, there’s a proper pass for the servers and an expeditor through that door to the right)

But once I addressed these issues with the Front of House, I realized: there is so much more missing from most restaurants on the gallery.

Like the back office.

BOH - Office

I didn’t find a single restaurant on the gallery that included one, but just about every restaurant has a shitty little back office crammed into what should be, like, a small closet. They all tend to look a little something like this

I had to hunt through debug for most of this clutter - it’s hard to tell in this pic, but that’s a couple stacks of money just sitting out on the desk to the right of the computer. That’s, shall we say, not super unusual to see in one of these crappy little paperwork prisons. And of course the mess of files and mail and shit.

You know what else every restaurant has but I never saw in any on the gallery?

Dish Pit

The game is not set up to allow you to make a proper dish pit. Like, there isn’t an industrial dishwasher or anything. Bu tI made one anyway. From the floor sinks, to the dish racks, to the horrible, heavy-ass red rubber mat that’s such a pain to clean at the end of the shift, I think you’ll recognize this room right away

I really had to fiddle to get this one -- those dish racks? they’re actually overlapped home counter racks that look like this

they were super hard to line up right. The “floor sinks” are actually a drain that’s supposed to go on the bottom of a pool, the dishwasher is actually three floor models raised to the right hight and overlapped facing different directions, and I added the little drain panels on either side by shrinking and raising floor vents to the height of the counters, which are actually overlapping tables. The floor I lucked out on, the Sims 4 has a tile floor pattern that comes in both grungy and clean, so I placed the clean ones on the outside edge of the dish pit floor in half-tiles along an irregular pattern with the edges matched to the lines of grout and added a couple of my own floor smudges so there wouldn’t be a straight line of dirty versus clean tile. Then I put some water stains over the whole thing to mask it better, overlapping some of the water stains to create the illusion of a flow of water going down the floor drain.

Speaking of the dish pit, most restaurants have this cousin to the dish pit, that I don’t know what to call except maybe a

Mop Closet

The Sims doesn’t have one of the yellow industrial mop buckets with the squeezy thing attachment, but I did pretty good here. Wish I could have erased the shower head, but I for sure needed the wall spigot handles and the hose. Managed to size up a bucket with water to the right dimensions and trick the game into letting me stick in a mop that’s supposed to hang on a wall. Added some cleaning supplies and stuff to the shelves.

Speaking of shelves, nobody ever includes dry storage when they do a Sims 4 restaurant. You know, with the empty beer kegs and those metal rack shelves full of, like, rows of little bottles and the restock items like six packs of soda and sacks of dry ingredients and way up on the top is the shit that never ever gets used but somehow you have to get up there every other week anyway?

See that door, the one with a light over it and a light next to it and a little temperature gauge? Yeah, you know what else I never see in gallery restaurants builds?

Walk In

this was a pain, not only did I have to meticulously place every bottle on top of that fridge unit, but those kegs are actually tiny soda cans with no labels that I had to pull out of the vast un-tagged and un organized debug menu. I don’t even think they got placed by the devs anywhere in game, I think they are some kind of frame that gets a label/skin before it gets placed, usually. And see that fan up top in the middle of the wall? That’s actually two separate pieces of nonsense -- like, the center part isn’t a fan at all, its a stone wall decoration. But the design looks like a fan, so I shrank it and shoved it most of the way back into the wall til it was nearly flat and found that other thing that had a circle the right size in the middle. and viola. Oh, and it and those other vents next to it don’t just go to nothing, oh no, they match up perfectly on the outside to these

Okay, now, everybody building restaurants in the Sims DOES include a

Kitchen

And they often do a fine job, so I’m not going to spend much time here, but they do tend to skimp on prep space

(hey, see those shelves on the top right? Those are shelves full of dishes. I never see shelves full of dishes in gallery restaurant builds, but like, you need a bunch of shelves full of dishes. And off in the corner to the far left of the top wall? Prep sink tucked away back there.)

Dude, let me just say... that prep counter?I placed every vegetable on that counter individually, AND I had to trick the game into letting me put more than the like, three items each counter space usually has slots for. What a pain. Worth it tho. It’s hard to tell, but there’s a knife next to the cutting board.

And lastly, no restaurant would be complete without

“out back”

okay this post is long enough, but I just want to point out the stack of empty pallets, the discolored liquid and debris under the dumpsters along with a rat trap, and a little smoke break area with shitty chairs and a garbage table with some kind of bowl or something being used as an ashtray.

There’s more to this restaurant, employee lockers, bathrooms, etc, but this post is long enough, and I covered the most important stuff.

In conclusion, I’m getting pretty good at sims builds, and other builders should ask me for tips on restaurant builds or read this post, because I swear none of them have ever worked in food service

#sims #sims 4 #restaurants #sims build #sims 4 build #there's a huge wildfire about ten miles from me and headed this way #so guess how I'm staying distracted #when i say ten miles away i mean the fire is 48 square miles in size and one edge of it is maybe 15 miles from me #and it's burning another square mile every two minutes #so i've got my bounce bag packed and now i am Thinking About Other Things #i should be fine - there was a somewhat smaller but still pretty big fire between me and this fire last month so theres a decent fire break

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tvandenneagram · 3 years

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The Haunting of Hill House: Shirley Crain - Type 1w2

Shirley is caring, rigid and uptight. She takes on the role of caregiver, sometimes to her own detriment.

At her best, Shirley is very generous and caring. She becomes more accepting and forgiving of others for their mistakes. Shirley is very idealistic and tries her best to do the right thing. She is very charitable and has strong principles. Shirley is not materialistic and tries to use her profession as a real means for helping grieving families.

At her worst, Shirley is rigid and controlling. She deals with her grief quite angrily and can be easily set off by other people’s misdeeds.

Shirley is the most responsible of the 5 siblings. She feels the need to take responsibility for the others and to help them. The way I see it, Shirley takes upon a motherly role because Olivia died and she thought that her siblings needed it. Shirley for the most part puts her family above all else and will do what it takes to help them. For example, she paid for Luke’s rehab and allows Theo to live with her.

Sometimes, Shirley can be too harsh or critical on people for their mistakes. As in the above example, she is initially idealistic and believes in Luke’s chances for sobriety but when he fails she comes down hard on him. Shirley resents when people don’t do what she thinks they should and she gets irrationally angry at them. To elaborate upon the Luke example, she judges him for his addiction and is a bit too harsh with him for it. Specifically, she doesn’t allow him to go to Nell’s wedding because he is high and believes he will ruin her day. Honestly, I totally see where she is coming from, but I think that not letting him come to the wedding was a mistake because Nell would have wanted him there.

Shirley can fall into traps of thinking of things in black and white. She can sometimes fail to see the greys in situations. For example, she feels extremely strongly about Steven using the family’s story for monetary gain. She becomes so myopic in her view that her husband takes Steven’s money without telling her for fear of her reaction. Naturally, Shirley views this as a betrayal and has a lot of trouble seeing that there were valid reasons for him taking the money in the first place.

Shirley became a mortician because she wanted to fix people. This was formed during her childhood and I think her career choice is quite indicative of her type, 1s are often known as fixers and want to make things the best they can be. They are very detail-oriented and meticulous which we see in how she prepares for the funerals.

Shirley also has a need for control in her life, which is why she is so insistent on being the one to prepare Nell’s body. She feels that she can fix Nell and is the only person capable of doing the job right. I also believe that this is a way for her to channel her grief and make some sense of the tragedy that just happened.

Shirley is often so in control and is very uptight. She is always trying to hold it together and is very restrained generally. Sometimes, this constant self-monitoring is too much for her and she acts out emotionally or engages in reckless behaviour. Shirley has a one-night stand, because she is so stressed in her life and it is one of the few moments where she lets go. She bottles up so many emotions and just feels better forgetting about her troubles and letting herself loose. After the fact, Shirley torments herself with guilt and silently punishes herself for her actions. We see that Shirley is in a way, haunted by her mistakes as we see her hallucinating the image of the man she slept with.

Shirley has a wing 2 because she is more inclined to act emotionally than a wing 9 would be.

Tri-type: 1w2 - 2w1 - 6w7

Some quotes to describe Shirley’s traits and motivations:

“I'm going to fix her. That's what I do.”

“I told you. I told you she was in trouble. I told you to find her. I told you!”

“Most of what people say at a funeral is a wish. They're at peace. They're in a better place. They're smiling down on us. People just wishing out loud.”

“You sent me your book, now you know what I think. You publish this, you know what it costs.”

“She f***ing knew better. And she did it anyway.”

“I’m a good mother... I’m a good person”

Theo: “Did you just punch me in the boob?” Shirley: “Yeah. Yeah! You kiss my husband, that's what you get. You get punched in the fucking boob. And you get evicted from my f***ing house.”

#thohh #the haunting of hill house #shirley crain #type 1 #1w2 #elizabeth reaser #enneagram #thehauntingdaily #thehauntingsource #the haunting anthology #the haunting universe #the haunting series #1w9 #ennea 1 #enneagram 1 #enneatypes #personality #personality types

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sapphicsongbirdblues · 3 years

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Calanthe and Eist’s Birth Charts

okay so because I’m a fucking nerd I decided to spend upwards of 6 hours a couple of weeks ago making birth charts for Calanthe and Eist, and I figured that I’d share them here since I put so much fucking work into them.

Good to note that all of these traits are heavily influenced by @marvellouslymadmim ‘s incredible fics....

I’ve also taken the liberty to give them birthdays bahaha, and I didn’t do houses because that would have taken me an extra 10 hours so this is just the planets. It’s long so read below cut :)

Calanthe, December 23, 1218 (Sun- Mars + Rising placements)

Sun in Capricorn: center of self, other traits mix with this

Meticulous, dead-pan, practical, they get shit DONE son, very self-assured, sarcastic, need structure or they will literally fall apart (and they often do.. Although secretly), resourceful, intelligent, blunt… need I say more

Moon in Aquarius: rules emotions, moods, feelings

Observant, oftentimes considered “loners,” powerful defense mechanisms, willful, wil deny “irrational” emotions (jealousy, possessiveness, fear) in order to seem “above” others, independent, thrive off of “shock-value,” proud, don’t like “messy” emotions, can seem incredibly distant to the people closest to them, hide sensitivities very well, unpredictable, stubborn, and incredibly seductive and charming

Ascendent in Leo: the “mask” you wear, public persona

GREAT hair, cares about appearance (not necessarily out of vanity but out of an understanding that appearance can be a weapon), aware of how they are perceived, very tender and gentle with loved ones, say exactly what they think, enjoy being the center of attention… but ONLY when they choose to be

Mercury in Scorpio: planet of communication

meticulous→ gets to the bottom of EVERYTHING, great observers, suspicious, tend to focus on the negative, passionate, prone to lecturing rather than listening, however they are excellent at giving advice, better communicators when it comes to subjects that are not close to home→ have a hard time communicating needs/feelings, excellent strategizers, constructive criticism = destructive criticism (they will rip you to shreds), want to WIN conversations (and often do), defensive of people they care about, love a challenge

Venus in Pisces: planet of love and relationships

In love they are dreamy and soft, can be a little moody and irregular, hard to read, like to “feel things out” (HATE decision making), can take YEARS to commit to something/someone, want partners to know that their love is unconditional, like to save people, tender and affectionate, oftentimes hard to reach, flippant, absolutely devoted (eventually)

Mars in Scorpio: planet of sex and aggression

Lovesssss a challenge→ like to set personal goals to see if they can meet them/ bend the rules, formidable opponents, hard to read, high sexual stamina, generally get what they want in bed (ahem), possessive of partners (but will never admit it), can have a hard time compromising, great survival instincts, very protective people, show love through physical touch and sex, extrememly passionate individuals

Eist, June 26, 1219 (Sun-Mars + Rising)

Sun in Cancer: center of self

Protective, caring, nurturing, moody, led by emotions, good at hiding vulnerability but are VERY VULNERABLE, soft, self-sacrificing

Moon in Taurus: rules emotions, moods, feelings

Cherish familiarity, strong-willed, sensory, materialistic, persevering (sometimes to a fault), crave stability and often ARE that stability for others, very romantic, affectionate, sentimental, warm, enduring, hold on tight to their loved ones, loyal, serene, stubborn af, crave routine, need clear lines and boundaries

Ascendant in Pisces: “mask,” public persona, physical appearance

Very very dreamy (and often have dreamy eyes), idealistic, go with the flow, gentle, peacemakers and peace lovers, chameleon- like persona (often can change easily to blend in with their environments socially and emotionally), can be shy or quiet but that’s because they are taking time to observe everything around them, however they loveeee to talk when the time is right, restless and searching, “feel their way through life,” rely heavily on emotions, irresistible charm, soft aura, very likeable

Mercury in Cancer: planet of communication

Communicate through feelings, sensitive, deep thinkers, can take time to respond to situations, excellent listeners, meditative and reflective, incredible memories (especially good at remembering emotional context), has a hard time letting emotions go, gentle, intuitive, sentimental, protective, soothing, nurturing, can get “lost” in another person’s way of thinking/feeling, very good with words (especially along the lines of letter writing and poetry)

Venus in Cancer: planet of love and relationships

Need commitment and predictability, sensitive, need security and care, pay more attention to their partner’s feelings than their words, excellent listeners, can be incredibly moody (especially if they don’t have an outlet for their stronger emotions), hate indifference (like indifference could literally kill them… so don’t do that), not afraid of confronting emotions, a bit anxious in love→ need reassurance, can be possessive, sentimental, tender, attached, cuddly, soft

Mars in Taurus: planet of sex and aggression

Calm and easy going, can have powerful tempers when pushed over the edge (but it doesn’t happen often), value strength and stability, need security, will spend years trying to achieve a goal, will not change their mind (like ever… well almost), immovable, extremely sensory when it comes to sex, long lasting and steady sexual stamina, not necessarily spontaneous but they stick to what they’re good at, very emotionally connected to sex (it’s never just physical)

Shared Placements (Jupiter-Pluto)

Jupiter in Scorpio: Jupiter represents the traits that bring us fortune

Incredibly emotional (but secretive about it), decisive, intense, have great will power, intuitive, creative, in control

Cal and Eist are both emotionally intelligent. They are seekers of truths and are determined in their efforts. Both like to be in control, both are led by emotions and passions rather than logic. When fully tapped into their emotions, they are unstoppable. When cultivated correctly, emotions become their most powerful tools and weapons.

Saturn in Pisces: reveals limitations of the self

Saturn in Pisces people are incredibly helpful and are excellent caregivers; however they are not so good at directing that care towards themselves. In fact, they often shut down when someone directs pity (or what these Piscean placements deem as pity) at them. They like to be in control, so when they aren’t they become paranoid and anxious. Saturn in Pisces individuals have to work extra hard to take care of themselves-- this is one of their greatest faults.

Cal and Eist are both care-givers; they fiercely protect the people they love most. However, they have a hard time taking care of themselves, and letting others take care of them. They believe that they have the ability to protect themselves if they hold onto that self-control, but they often do not have self control as they are led primarily by emotion. Each of them needs coaxing from their loved ones to truly take care of themselves. They rely heavily on their close circles.

Uranus in Gemini: rules friends, relationships, community, transformation, change, ideas

Uranus in Gemini people are super energetic and are incredible innovators. They are quick witted and quick tempered, often moving between emotions and ideas in moments. They are great transformers of thought, and often break traditions and taboos (rather gleefully). They hate authority, and will question it relentlessly.

Cal and Eist are both witty and intelligent people. They’re excellent strategists and politicians. Although they both perform their roles as diplomats and political leaders, they often go out of their way to subvert norms and question authority. They create new rules, they bend tradition. They hide in plain sight.

Neptune in Virgo: to refine, planet of inspiration

Neptune in Virgo people are idealistic and detail oriented. They love to serve others, especially those in need. They value work and health and safety. They are versatile and adaptable. They are motivated by a sense of duty and helpfulness.

Cal and Eist are excellent leaders and they truly value their positions as respective rulers of their nations. They are compassionate, though stern, and are ready to make hard decisions when it comes to issues of diplomacy. They are also quite stubborn, and oftentimes their opinions are conflated with fact. It’s important to note that the two generations following are Neptune in Libra (full of individuals who value harmony and diplomacy and justice-- ahem Pavetta), and Neptune in Scorpio (full of individuals who are secretive, profound, and enjoy solitude; people who also enjoy the search for truth and justice-- ahem Cirilla).

Pluto in Taurus: symbolizes rebirth, change, secrets

Pluto in Taurus individuals are incredibly stubborn and persistent. They value materials and will never be satisfied with the amount of resources they have. They hate change and love their way.

Cal and Eist (and Mousesack and other characters around their age group) were born and grew up in a generation which sought, conquered, and maintained resources effectively. Cal, especially, used her strengths and her resourcefulness to protect and improve her kingdom; and for a majority of her rule maintained diplomacy without surrendering any of her power. However, the generation following Taurus is Gemini. This generation (including Cahir and Pavetta and potentially Ciri) are inquisitive and thirsty for ideas and knowledge. They are the breakers of tradition. Where Cal and Eist’s generation built and maintained some version of stability, Pavatta and Cahir’s generation destroy borders and bring about great change and innovation.

#calanthe of cintra #eist tuirseach #calanthe fiona riannon #calanthe x eist #the witcher #birth charts #planet placements #this is peak nerd shit and my hyperfixations are showing for sure #enjoy #marvellouslymadmim

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headlesssamurai · 4 years

Note

Flex like your a badass but just another neckbeard fuckkboy. no ally of mine.

There’s an old axiom; “Judge a man by his questions, rather than his answers.” And I suppose that would be easier for me with the preachers and adherents to the faith of whatever religion/temple/political party happens to be next in line to try converting me, if of course any of them had a single worthwhile question to ask of me. Almost all of them seem to have only statements and edicts, black-and-white causes you either join or get treated as abomination.

Once again, I don’t intend to invalidate your beliefs, only to point out that they’re your beliefs. You have yours, I have mine, and the only real difference seems to be that I haven’t any interest in forcing mine on you, which apparently makes me your enemy.

Without irony, I wonder, is the world truly that plainly binary to you? Just allies and enemies? People who agree with you or people who don’t? I suppose that simplifies things, makes it easier for the mind to process, so it makes sense that it’s an attractive philosophy to adopt. Like a cure-all pill, I reckon. Doesn’t seem to hold much water by my sight though.

I’ve stated this before, to a few others, but I don’t see the world through your lens. I do find it fascinating how myopic that lens seems to be though, given the breadth of human history to illustrate for you the repetitive nature of such arrogant self-righteousness throughout the generations.

Another interesting observation I’ve gathered about such people in our current era is that they often claim to be, like, “sowing seeds of chaos” or “bringing down the system” or whatever, they have this idea that they’re these free radicals beholden to no one and nothing, and their own struggles and oppression justify their methods.

When in reality, they aren’t chaotic in any sense whatsoever. Irrational, perhaps, but not chaotic. They’re just as draconian and dogmatic, and controlling as the people they’re claiming they hate, who they mark as their enemies. They aren’t trying to crash the system, they’re trying to replace it with a different system of their own design. You’ve said it yourself, I’m not on your side so I’m an enemy. A virus to be deleted from your system, in which there is no place for me. If it came to blades at dawn, you’d likely kill me and sleep well that night, because I’m practically inhuman to you now, no?

It isn’t oppression so much as privilege, I think, that moves people to scream in the faces of others for some cause they can barely understand. It isn’t rebellious chaos but rather a collectivist doctrine that masses individuals into mobs poised to brutally trample over their opponents.

I exaggerate, perhaps. But, you see, none of this is new. Human beings have been taken by such hubris before, countless times. Just read a history book, it’ll show you how repetitive and predictable we are. We just don’t see it so easily, because the language and terminology, and perspectives, were somewhat different back then, but believe me: the methodology was the same.

These causes and fanatical attempts to sway the masses one way or another remain, in my mind, a miserably failed attempt to grow a garden with a sledge hammer.

When I was somewhat younger, I used to believe this endless pattern throughout history came from humans wanting their lives to mean something, since we all search for meaning to various degrees. But now I’ve begun to suspect it comes from two other powerful sources: the fear of being alone, and the fear of hard work.

In electronics, the smallest detail is the thing that matters the most. Sure, you can have the right gauge wires rated for the proper voltage, you can have the highest grade solder, the most expertly crafted chips and capacitors and components, the proper tools to put it all together, but if even one of a certain minutia of factors are off-kilter or out of optimal range, the hardware can fail in operation. Little things like foreign debris, chemical contamination, fillet volume, microscopic fractures, humidity, and others can ruin the hardware. So, when building these sorts of components, it’s very important to pay attention to details, even the smallest ones, every step of the way.

It’s the same in chemistry, physics, biology, and other detail-oriented scientific fields in which small factors can have catastrophic results under improper conditions. It is also the same in art, music, architecture, fashion design, graphics and animation.

I regard individual human beings, when not grouped into mobs and congregations, to be one of the most complex subjects of study.

Perhaps we desire to join causes and groups (even those effectually no better than their opponents) because it helps us feel like we belong somewhere, instead of feeling like outsiders. Perhaps we wish to make giant sweeping changes to the world around us, not because we truly believe it's the righteous and moral thing to do, but because in looking outward at the macrocosm of events, we don’t have to look inward at the minutia of our own minds and souls, and thereby avoid the very real struggle and hard work of correcting whatever flaws we find there. Some part of us wants to believe it is the world, not our Selves, that needs change and improvement.

I very pointedly speculate here, but I wonder if instead of attempting to force our righteous causes on others or instead of joining and recruiting for the next group of superheroes who claim they’re going to change the world, we alternatively focused our energy and effort on looking inward and improving our Selves attempting to nurture our ego and regulate our id, we might all improve the world gradually and slowly by that virtue alone. Rather than attempting to hammer the world into shape with our ideas, perhaps we might try meticulously sculpting and altering, and reshaping whatever flaws we find within our own selves.

This would be a great deal of very hard work, and we'd need to face things we would most often rather ignore. But I can’t help but think of it as a far more healthy and productive endeavor for most individuals, who might thereby also cast off their fear of being alone, by securing their own understanding of themselves.

Again, I speculate, but would this not in some way also change the world by degrees? I ask only that you consider the notion.

侍 headless

#anonymeisters #stuff and things

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eyecicles · 4 years

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If you are still doing the signs meme: Scorpio sun, Virgo moon, Sagittarius rising

All very insightful signs. Scorpio + Virgo aspects often make someone very sharp-minded, if not a bit prickly. And while Sagittarius Risings are usually friendly/well-meaning, there are also quite blunt. An Earth Moon with Water Sun is a nice combo though, since it makes one a bit more level-headed than Water Suns usually are, haha.

The placements sound a bit like what I would imagine an alchemist of the times would have as well...

Under the cut are more anonymous astrology asks I got:

i also know nothing about astrology but: virgo sun, sagittarius moon, virgo rising

Strong Virgo with background - but strong - fire. If it goes smoothly, it sounds like someone who’s both very passionate and meticulous about their work/main interest/topic they study. I prefer to see Squares (your Sun and Moon plus you Rising and Moon make Squares) as a huge opportunity than a hindrance, it’s just that the energies, or whatever you like to call them, are harder to harmonise.

Scorpio zodiac, Scorpio moon, rising Leo :D

Another double!Scorpio! Well, I find your combination pretty charming, haha (even though Scorpio with Leo typically gets described as overly dominant - I think that’s a pretty superficial interpretation). Lots of Fixed energy, sure, but I love the passion and tenacity of the Fixed signs - it might be hard to drop/let go of something or someone, depending on the rest of your chart. Still, the Scorpio + Leo people I know (like my sister, who’s also my best friend) usually have the biggest hearts, they’re awfully sincere, etc

Cancer sun, virgo moon, scorpio rising! ✨

All three signs have harmonious aspects to each other. This usually means that someone has an easier time “knowing” themselves & how to use their skills & how to self-reflect. And again: Earth Moons have a pretty grounded effect on Water Suns. For me, this means that I have a hard time relating to all those articles that describe Water Suns as overly emotional and soft

It’s a very introspective mix for sure

Gemini Sun + Moon, Leo Rising

Sun conjunct Moon usually means a strong personality, of which kind depends, of course. But speaking from experience, any Gemini influence on the Moon (mine is in the 3th House) can make someone hunger for education and/or chronically bored. And despite what tumblr says about both Gemini and Leo, they are signs you can like quite easily and quickly.

By the way, the two sides of Gemini refer to the earthly and divine sides of humanity. Geminis are typically a kind of “messenger”, which can mean that they’re often struck by strong bursts of inspiration out of nowhere. Also, most Geminis I know have both a sunny and a broody side to them, which, I imagine, is only made stronger if both the Sun and Moon are in the sign

Sun scorpio, moon scorpio, rising cancer

Ah, so many double!Scorpios in my askbox... You know, I absolutely love Scorpio Moons. I think it’s one of my top favourite placements, but I’m not entirely sure why - it’s just easier for me to feel a connection to them (fun fact: Capricorn and Scorpio are supposed to be the most unfavourable placements for the Moon, maybe that plays a role here) than to most people

You’ve also got a Cancer Rising and a lot of Water influence supposedly can make someone clairvoyant. I have lots of Water in my birth chart too, and I can confirm that I’m more sensitive than most people, but you know. (Might be a weird place to say that I’m agnostic about anything supernatural, but yeah) And I love the depth and thoughtfulness of Scorpio and Cancer!

Just know that your Water traits are lovely & that it’s not your fate to me everyone’s garbage bin to throw their trauma into.

gemini sun, leo moon, rising scorpio

You’ve got all the signs tumblr treats unfairly & gets wrong all the time. I personally find, looking at people I know/famous people with these signs, that it can make for a very magnetic personality. I think many people are just too slow and lazy to understand Geminis, to be honest... My Aquarius Mercury/Mars/IC loves to listen to Gemini Suns - they know how to talk in a witty/interesting way (if they’re not the more nervous/insecure type of Mercury sign Sun).

Your Fixed energy is good for your Gemini Sun; it can make it less scattered. The contrast between Gemini Sun and Scorpio Rising can be a funny one: the one I know personally is outwardly quite sombre but actually one of the wittiest and funniest people I know

If you're still doing the ask meme: capricorn sun, virgo moon, and leo rising ❤

What a lovely combination. All three signs are very reliable & get things done, and the Leo Rising gives warmth to the more cool and rational Capricorn + Virgo placements. What I love about the Virgo Moons I know is that they just get my pet peeves and general grievances with this world, haha

Capricorn + Leo are known for being good leaders, but on the other hand... I know tons of Capricorn Suns who would rather live a hermit’s life. Either way, I find myself drawn to this combo a lot & I often find them quite trustworthy and admirable in one way or another

libra sun, aquarius moon, and cancer rising!

Oh, I got another Cancer Rising - cool. For some reason it’s said to be rare (though scientifically speaking, Aries/Pisces Rising should be the rarest). I personally found that most of the ones I do know have very intriguing eyes.

Also, Air Sun + Moon is a brainy and quick-witted combination. Another thing I’ve observed is that no one hates restrictions as much as Aquarius Moons do... Hope your more eccentric Moon doesn’t bully your polite Sun and your safety-loving Rising too much, haha. The Fixed placements will do whatever they want and don’t necessarily have much interest in harmonising

aquarius sun, taurus moon, libra rising. thank you.

I’m a Libra Rising too and I’m not at all surprised that you’re one of the (very few) people who said “thank you”. Love that.

Well, I’m very curious about your Aquarius Sun + Taurus Moon. It’s a Square and I think two of the signs that have the least amount of traits in common (except for their Fixed energy), which means I have a hard time imagining it. It’s extroverted, innovative, quick, “light”, brainy energy vs introverted, traditional, slow, artistic (Venus) energy.

One astrologer once said to me that people with a lot of contrasting energies often have Libra Risings to balance everything out. But honestly, in my case, it just feels like I’m everything at once (might be Pisces’ fault). Still, it certainly makes for a better and intuitive psychological understanding of the different personality types of people, which is something Libra placements love to have

sun libra moon leo rising scorpio

All three signs are known for making other people curious/interested in them, though Scorpio Rising can also intimidate some people (since they often have a pretty intense aura to them)

Moon Square Rising can be difficult - I have the same aspect - because it can make it hard to express ones emotions in a natural way, haha.

Libra Sun plus Leo Moon works extremely well together, though.

And Fire Moons are pretty interesting placements I’m still not completely sure how to interpret. I always assumed it has to stand for openly fiery, intense emotions, but the Fire Moons I know are more humorous than, say, extroverted. I’d love for other people to describe me how they experience their Fire Moon, honestly...

And again, Air Suns with Scorpio Rising often have a darker aesthetic, but that’s naturally not always the case

pisces sun, sagittarius rising, virgo moon ✨ what do you think?

Pisces Sun + Sagittarius Rising (I know a few people with this combo) are usually very earnest and open-minded, if not a bit unsuspecting. They simultaneously seem to understand and know more than they let on...

Pisces Sun + Virgo Moon means you were born on a full moon, which is pretty cool. Sun Opposite Moon is an interesting aspect in general. They almost always have pretty intense ideas/thoughts/emotions regarding their identity, like feeling that they’re two people at once, or they have an overly strong sense of their self and are more independent than most other people. And someone with important Pisces and Virgo placements will most likely be someone who absolutely can’t look the other way when they see someone suffer.

virgo sun and rising, cparicorn moon (libra venus uwu)

Oh, all that Earth! Reliable, reasonable, loyal, detail-oriented and diligent are words that come to mind. Virgo Rising + Libra Venus could stand for an interesting personal style.

As a Capricorn Moon I know how difficult of a placement this can be... It’s like I live and breathe stress, and I absolutely can’t stand the thought of trying anything out if I don’t see myself having the skill to master it too

Then again, people with an overly strong influence of one element will sometimes try to compensate for it in one way or other. There could (should?) be something in your life that allows you to be chaotic and strange

Pisces☀️Libra🌕Leo⬆️

All signs usually have a big heart. Though Pisces and Libra will sometimes put up a front of friendliness, because their strong sense of justice doesn’t always make it easy for them to genuinely like many of the people they meet (which obviously heavily depends).

Pisces is the wild card of the birth chart, but with Libra and Leo it’s even more likely that they’re strongly interested in art. All of them having interesting views on beauty. (I’m Pisces Sun/Libra Rising/5th House dominant and I’m known for being attracted to things and people others find uninteresting, haha)

Also, Air Moons are known for trying to deal rationally with their emotions only to end up worrying more about them than they have to; they can be chronic over-thinkers

#ask meme answers #anon #not dn #astrology

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not-a-space-alien · 4 years

Text

Anniversary - or the Horsepersons realise they can get together outside of work

Hi everyone, I just realized today that I never posted my work from this past holiday exchange! Here was my entry, hope you enjoy!

Title: Anniversary

Rating: G

Word Count: 6k

Summary: The horsepersons are summoned for a second attempt at Armageddon, but soon an irritating pattern emerges.

A note about my illustrations: I trace stock photos for a lot of my basic shapes because I’m not good at that and really only enjoy the detail work and coloring, so I consider my “art” more like photo manipulation than original artwork, so just keep that in mind! This one is also partially based in TV canon and partially in book canon fyi

On DW

On AO3

“Who exactly summons them?”

“Not my department.”

************************

The department that did, in fact, summon the horsepersons was not Gabriel’s department, which was the Department of Earthly Affairs. Summoning the horsepersons, overseeing the signs of the end times, the rains of fish, and all that unpleasant business was a job that nobody really wanted. It was thought of as something Hell was supposed to do, but Heaven had to take responsibility for it, roll up their sleeves, and make sure it was done properly. It was shunted off onto whichever angels were unlucky enough to be assigned to the Department of Armageddon, which Gabriel had actually fought tooth and nail to leave.

The Department of Armageddon’s entire purpose was to prepare for the end times: to meticulously plan it out and ensure it went off smoothly. As these things tend to go, the least desirable job got pushed off onto whomever was lowest on the command chain, or at least the one too polite or too much of a pushover to refuse the job. And nobody really wanted to interact with the horsepersons. The DoA was filled with poor souls who had been toughing out a job they’d hated for six-thousand years. It would take a toll on anyone.

The reader can probably imagine that Aziraphale is less popular with the Department of Armageddon than any other angels, who unfortunately already find him quite annoying.

But this story is not about Aziraphale. It’s not even about Ambriel, the angel responsible for summoning the horsepersons.

No, this story is about the horsepersons, who lined up for Armageddon in the year of 1991 with great fervor and excitement, giddily straddling their motorcycles, finally able to run wild. The way that one had fizzled out was quite a disappointment to them all.

Adam had banished them for a bit, and that had been no fun, but it’s impossible to do away with Famine, War, and Pollution as long as humans exist. So they eventually reformed, springing from the minds of men and being unleashed back onto the world.

Somewhere in Europe, freshly spilled blood steamed and boiled, and War rose up, with blood smeared over her naked body like a newborn baby. In Asia, in a field covered by vultures feasting on the carcass of an emaciated cow, Famine sat up, looking around disoriented and missing his fancy suits. On the West Coast of the United States, Pollution washed ashore, having drifted for a while after being spawned from the Great Pacific garbage patch. They picked seaweed out of their hair and took a few moments to orient themselves. The last thing they remembered was staring down Adam Young. And as they realised what had happened, they thought the exact same thing their two companions were thinking at that exact moment:

Aw, man!

*********************************

In August 1992, the brave soul known simply as ‘the deliveryman’ had been contracted once again. The request was again from someone named Ambriel, by whom he had been contracted at this precise time last year, and for the exact same reason: To make four deliveries in various parts of the world to varyingly strange customers.

He didn’t really want to go, but it was his job, so there he was braving the quite literally riotous streets of a war-torn country scouring the chaos for a particular woman.

War had gone back to doing her reporter schtick, but it was starting to bore her. She was interviewing an American soldier as he prattled on and on, pretending to write it down*, thinking about what her next possible career could be. Probably somewhere in the American Military-Industrial complex, she thought.

*******

*She was currently drawing a sketch of him decapitated on the battlefield.

*******

This is how the deliveryman found her. He doubled over panting from the exertion of running up to her, but managed to wheeze out, “Package for you, Miss.”

War turned to him, an intensely puzzled look on her face. “What?”

“Package for you.”

War turned her back on the soldier. “You again? Aren’t you the same…. You have another package for me?”

He held it out. It was suspiciously sword-shaped.

“But... “ She took the package and unwrapped it. It was indeed a sword, long and shiny polished metal glittering in the harsh sun. “But this means Armageddon is near. Again?”

The deliveryman held out the signature pad hopefully.

She looked at him.

“I need you to sign for it, miss.”

“But we just did this.”

“This, ma’am?”

“Receiving our artifacts. Riding to Armageddon. The whole nine yards.”

“I do recall delivering this same sword to you last year. Afraid I don’t know anything about it, though. I’m just the deliveryman.”

“Are we doing it all again?”

“Afraid I don’t know, ma’am. I just need you to sign for it, please.”

War held the sword out in both her hands, seeing her reflection in its length. “That was one year ago today,” she realised. “A year was all they decided to wait? It took six-thousand to get ready the first time.”

Hope fading, the deliveryman stretched his arms out to full length to get the pen and pad as close to her as possible. “Just need a signature, miss.”

War relented and took the pen, ripping the paper under the force of her signature. The deliveryman looked a bit put off and shuffled away, unenthusiastic about his next delivery, which would require him to pick along an extremely dirty industrial oil field.

The soldier waited around to hopefully continue bragging about how brave he was, but War ignored him. She simply continued to stare at the sword. All she said was:

“Huh.”

***************************************

“Here we all are, gathered together at last.”

Famine was the one to made this proclamation. He said this to both War and Pollution, who were uncertainly standing around their motorcycles. This time they had been summoned directly to the barren field of Armageddon, which was, as it had been at this time last year, distressingly empty.

“Just saw you last year,” said Pollution. “Not quite ‘at last’ anymore, is it?.”

Famine gave them a dirty look. “Yes, well, it’s what we said last year. Seems only right to say it again.”

“They’re trying to make Armageddon happen again on the anniversary of it failing,” said War. “Is that what’s up?”

“It is significant, isn’t it?” said Pollution. “I was thinking about having some sort of celebration anyway. One year and all that. Seems like we should commemorate it somehow.”

“That’s stupid,” said Famine. Famine usually hated commemorating things because anniversaries and celebrations always seemed to involve good food and drink. Eat, drink, and be miserable was usually how it went for him.

“Anyway,” said War, “what are we waiting for? The Big Guy’s not here yet, but shouldn’t there be, I don’t know, some sort of preliminaries going on? Wasn’t there all sorts of wacky stuff going on last year, storm in the sky, showers of fish and all that?”

A figure could be seen spiraling downwards from the sky, wings spread wide. Pollution shielded their face with their hand and stared up past the sun. “Who’s’at?”

The figure revealed itself to be an angel, a jaunty figure with a halo struggling to keep up with his erratic motion, floating just behind his head as he ran full-speed towards them.

“And who might you be?” said Famine.

The angel huffed and puffed. “The name’s--the name is Ambriel.” He caught his breath and looked around at the gathering. “Where is Death?”

As if on cue, Death appeared with a small pop of expanding air. I HAVE NEVER HAD TO KILL THE SAME HUMAN TWICE, said Death. AND I DO NOT ENJOY THE EXPERIENCE. NEITHER DID HE. WHATEVER YOU ARE PAYING THE DELIVERYMAN, YOU NEED TO PAY HIM MORE.

“Pay?” said Ambriel. “Oh, that’s right.” He snapped his fingers, and the deliveryman’s bank account balance was suddenly a few digits larger, for all the good it would do a dead man.

“So your name’s Ambriel,” said War. “But who are you?”

“I’m the one responsible for making sure the horsepersons are present at Armageddon!” he crowed.

Famine craned his neck towards the empty, blue, peaceful, quiet, decidedly-not-Armageddon sky. Pollution kicked a rock through the soft grass. War scratched her head.

WE ARE HERE, said Death.

“But where’s Armageddon?” said War. “We don’t start it. That’s the antichrist.”

“Ah,” said Ambriel, sweating. “Yes, well, we’re still working on that. It was supposed to happen a year ago, you see…”

“Yes, you summoned us on the anniversary,” said Pollution. “Are we going to do it again?”

“Turn the seas to blood?” said War, shaking her fists.

“Unleash ourselves upon the planet until nothing’s left but bones and bare rock?” said Famine, a sparkle in his eye.

“Bury humanity in the consequences of its own actions?” said Pollution giddily.

Ambriel grimaced as the three of them crowded in on him, pumping their fists in excitement.

THE FINAL REAPING, said Death.

“Yes,” said Ambriel. “Um, yes, for sure, about that…”

The excitement on their faces began to fade.

“Well, you see, I’d thought everything would be ready to go by now. The timeline they gave me for re-setting the Armageddon fittings was one year! It should be well underway by now, but…”

War and Famine looked at each other disappointedly. “But what?” said Pollution.

“But they’re not done with the paperwork yet,” said Ambriel, crumpling. “There’s been delays and delays and delays. Our field agent won’t cooperate. Hell won’t cooperate. The other departments won’t cooperate. It’s a bloody mess!”

“That sounds like your problem,” said War. “What do you want us to do about it?”

Ambriel wrung his hands. “Well, I...I don’t know.”

War pouted. “All right, well, this was a bust, then.” She spun on her heel and marched across the field. “Call me when there’s some action for me, then, love.”

“Wait!” cried Ambriel. “Don’t leave!”

“I’ll be down by the river,” said Pollution. “It’s been looking a bit too clean for my taste. Too many local community day cleanups, if you ask me.”

Ambriel nervously stuttered as Pollution sauntered away in the opposite direction. Then he looked at Famine. “I suppose you’re going to leave me, too?”

Famine checked his very expensive watch. “Well, my flight back to America doesn’t leave until five o’clock, so I might hang around a bit and see if you can kick off Armageddon in the next two hours.”

*************************************

August 25, 1993

Pollution was the first one to show up this time, bearing a wine bottle and a little party hat affixed in their pale hair. They’d worn the crown this whole time, so their head was starting to get a little crowded on top.

War had kept her sword. It was slung casually over her shoulder as she picked her way across the empty field where Armageddon ostensibly was supposed to take place. Only Famine had returned his artifact to Ambriel, because he thought modern electronic balances were much more efficient and chic than traditional balancing scales anyway, and he stood waiting to meet her empty-handed.

“Back again,” said War. “I just got a letter in the mail this time, no deliveryman. You?”

“The same,” said Famine. “They’re lucky I got it. Our mail gets filtered pretty thoroughly before it lands on my desk. Pretty rude too, I had to drop everything to run on over...I thin heaven should start reimbursing me for the travel costs.”

Death popped into existence beside Pollution. Ambriel was holding onto his arm, looking frightened.

THERE, YOU SEE? said Death. NO NEED TO KILL ANYONE TO GET A MESSAGE TO ME. WE CAN SKIP THAT AND HEAD RIGHT ON OVER TO ARMAGEDDON TOGETHER.

“Right,” said Ambriel. “Sorry.” He straightened his tunic and marched out in front of the semicircle of horsepersons. “Welcome to Armageddon!” he loudly announced. “It begins now!”

“I don’t see any signs of the end times--” Pollution began.

“Yet!” Ambriel thundered. “They shall begin any moment!”

Pollution popped open the wine bottle. “Yay.”

Ambriel, his hands still raised dramatically, began to sweat.

“The paperwork still isn’t done, is it?” said War.

“The paperwork still isn’t done,” said Ambriel, shoulders sagging.

“Then why did you call us here?” said Famine. “Look, I’m a busy man. I run a corporate empire, you know!”

“I thought it would be done!” said Ambriel, wringing his hands. “We’re just… We’re waiting on our field agent, Aziraphale. He hasn’t turned in his forms yet, and he won’t answer my messages.”

“Should we go find this Aziraphale guy and teach him a lesson?” said War.

“A lesson about punctuality in filling out paperwork?” said Pollution. “Are you sure you’re the best one to teach him that lesson?”

“All right, all right,” said Famine. “Look, Ambriel, is there anything we can do to move things along? This is the third time in a row--”

“The second anniversary,” Pollution interrupted.

“--Right, thanks, White--the third time we’ve done our ride and gone to Armageddon. It’s starting to get a bit anticlimactic.”

“That’s his job, not ours,” said War. “Pfft. Black, what’s next? You want to tempt sinners to Hell? Reap souls after death? Who else’s job do you want to do?”

Famine grew red. “I’m just saying--”

“Well, whatever,” said War, slinging her sword back into the sheath strapped across her back. She hooked her arm around Famine’s head and gave him a noogie. “We can kill some time while Ambriel finishes preparing for Armageddon.”

HMMM, said Death. YES...SINCE IT SEEMS LIKE TIME IS THE ONLY THING WE’LL BE KILLING.

******************************

August 25, 1994

Famine kept his scales this time. Their home for the next year was the corner of his desk in his office on top of 666 Fifth Avenue, right next to his extremely slim computer.

Famine played with the chain, strangely delicate and cold, when an email popped up on his computer.

To the Black horseperson of the apocalypse:

Please meet us at the appropriate place at the appropriate time. The end is nigh. The four horsemen shall ride and the world shall end in fire and blood..

Famine started to type a response. But before he could, his computer dinged with a reply: all to the previous email, from [email protected]:

Can I bring a plus one this time?

A few days and a few thousand miles later, Famine trekked over the dry ground of Armageddon with his scales in hand. Pollution and War were already standing in the middle of the field, the exact same place Ambriel had appeared the last three years.

War had a demoness hanging off her arm.

“Ah, Black!” said War. “Just in time. I was just in the process of introducing my girlfriend, Ashtarte.”

“Call me Ash,” said Ashtarte. A smile, too broad and with too many teeth that were too sharp, spread Cheshire cat-like across her features. She wore a punk mesh top, red boots, and had a little pair of horns and forked tail, like she was trying to impersonate a Halloween costume of a demon.

“Uh, okay, Ash,” said Famine.

“The Black horseperson of the apocalypse!” said Ash. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Big fan of your work!”

“Big fan?” said Famine. He straightened his tie. “Thanks very much.”

“We met over cocktails in a little bar in Saudia Arabia,” said War. “Making fun of the same reporters.”

Ash held up her hand in a “V” pose.

“None of us have ever really, uh…” said Famine.

“Had a girlfriend?” said War. “You don’t know that.”

Famine fidgeted. “So you have had a girlfriend?”

“Er, well, no, not really,” said War. She hefted Ash onto her shoulder and flexed her bicep; the smaller woman fit snugly into her shoulder. “But you should try it sometime! Armageddon keeps getting delayed, so we might as well enjoy our time here, right?”

“But what’s the appeal?”

“I think he doesn’t understand it,” said Pollution, “because he can’t even imagine how to get a girlfriend.”

Death appeared stormily, his biker boots thumping against the ground a bit too hard. AND WHERE IS OUR SUMMONER?

“Not here yet,” said Pollution, fiddling with the wine bottle they held. “But why don’t we have some drinks first? Enjoy our time here, right?”

They summoned a card table from somewhere, and Pollution pulled up a seat and patted the one next to them in the hope of coaxing Death to sit down. Famine ambivalently sat down next to War, who had Ash on her lap.

WE’RE NOT HAVING A PARTY, said Death. WE’RE HERE FOR BUSINESS REASONS.

“Sit down, big guy,” said Famine. “Nothing wrong with loosening up a little.”

Death remained motionless for a few moments, tense with annoyance. Then, his biker leathers crinkling, he lowered himself into a seat. BUT I WON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DRINK.

“Aw,” said Pollution, popping the cork off the bottle. “Do you not like it?”

Death’s helmet visor reflected Pollution’s face impassively back at them as they poured drinks.

“Have you never drunk alcohol before?” said War.

Death didn’t answer.

“You haven’t, have you?” said Famine. “Do you want to try some?”

Death lifted his helmet off his head, setting it on his lap. Then he removed one leather glove, revealing his bony hand. The white stalk snaked out and curled around a glass, bringing it to his skeletal grin. The wine dribbled through his jaw and onto his leather jacket.

Famine grimaced. Pollution thought his jacket looked better with stains on it, but didn’t say so. They passed the next half hour in jovial conversation, the wine warming their bodies and lifting their spirits. Ash withdrew a deck of cards from her pocket, which entertained them as they laughed and joked.

They were all quite drunk by the time Ambriel arrived. He sprinted over at top speed, careening into the table. “What are you all doing?”

“We’re having a drink!” said Ash, waving her glass in the air and sloshing wine.

“Wh—” Ambriel took a second to look very confused at the appearance of a fifth horseperson, then shook it off and decided it didn’t matter. “Whatever! Get up, put this stuff away! Armageddon is starting!”

“For real this time?” said Pollution.

A second angel could be seen descending from Heaven. “Yes, for real this time!” Ambriel exploded. “The archangel Michael is on his way! Now get ready!”

War rolled her eyes and folded up the table. Pollution disappointedly retrieved the half-empty wine bottle, sipping from it as they walked over to Ambriel.

Michael touched down, his impressive dusky wingspan battering them with dusty clouds. “Ambriel, I was told the armies of Hell are gathering here, yes?”

“Yes!” said Ambriel. “The antichrist is coming. He’s on his way now.”

“He’s…” Michael looked over the the horsepersons. Famine shrugged. War examined her nails. Pollution continued to sip from their bottle. Death very stormily crossed his arms.

“He’s supposed to already be here,” said Michael. “I don’t see any of the signs of Armageddon…”

“I gave the antichrist Adam Young a very stern lecture about his role, and demanded he come to Armageddon,” said Ambriel. “And he said he was coming.”

Pollution cocked their head. “He said he was coming?”

“Yes. His exact words were, ‘Okay, Boomer.’”

Pollution choked, wine shooting out their nose.

***************************

August 25, 1998

“Can we meet at your restaurant next time?”

Famine turned to Pollution, the only other figure with him at the yet again empty field of Armageddon. “What?”

“The next time this happens, can we meet at one of your restaurants?”

Famine sighed. The first few times this had happened, he’d argued that they didn’t know there was going to be a ‘next time,’ but by now, the anniversary of the Apocalypse usually heralded them gathering to stand around for a while and not much else. “I doubt Ambriel would go for that. We’re supposed to be in this spot.”

Pollution shifted from foot to foot. “But the Newtrition corp has expanded, right? It has branches around here now. It wouldn’t be that far.”

“You don’t want to eat at my restaurant,” said Famine, trying to hide his shock that Pollution was so familiar with his franchise. He hadn’t thought any of the other horsepersons had cared about his silly little business. Although it was nice that someone was paying attention. “Why not?” said Pollution. “It seems nice. It produces lots of waste paper. And styrofoam cartons. Love those things.”

“It doesn’t serve actual food,” said Famine. “Just a bunch of nonsense. It has no nutritional value.”

“Well,” said Pollution. “We don’t actually need to eat, do we? Back in the forties, I went a good decade without eating. Too busy with the mills in Pittsburgh to stop and eat.”

Famine opened his mouth to deliver a snappy retort, only to find he didn’t have one.

“‘Course that was before I took the crown from Pestilence, so I was just a minor horseperson then. Well, my point is, it’s not like we’ll be affected by malnutrition. As long as it tastes good, right?”

Famine lit a cigarette. “If you want to look at it that way, I suppose.”

The rumble of a motorcycle filled the air, and War pulled up with Ash perched on the back of her bike.

“We can’t meet at my restaurant,” said Famine. “That’s inappropriate.” He wasn’t sure why the idea made him so uncomfortable, and he turned to greet War. “Red.”

“Black,” said War, dismounting. She put her bike helmet on the saddle as Ash fell off behind her. “Hey, you don’t have to call me ‘Red,’ you know.”

Famine stopped. “What?”

“I have a name.”

Famine bristled. “Whatever. Where’s that stupid little twig of an angel this time?”

“Geez, who pissed in your cereal,” said Ash, dusting herself off.

“I’m just getting a little tired of this!” said Famine. “I have to fly over from America every year in August only to be told to go right back home!”

Pollution opened a bag of crisps, savoring the grease. They looked disappointedly into the bag. “Black.”

“What?”

“Don’t ruin my crisps!”

“I’m not ruining your—” Famine suddenly realised he was ruining the crisps, because he was so damn frustrated by how inefficient Heaven and Armageddon and this whole thing was. He was used to running things like a well-oiled machine, and this….

“Black, stop ruining the poor kid’s crisps,” said War.

“You’ve never appreciated my work,” Famine snapped.

Ambriel chose this moment to appear. “All right, everyone!” he said. “This time I’ve really—”

“Black, I was very much looking forward to my crisps!” Pollution said.

“You all only notice how hard I work when it affects you!” said Famine. “I’m the only one putting real effortinto building an empire—”

“You’re the only one?” said Pollution.

Scared, Ambriel hid behind his clipboard, unsure of how to wrangle them.

Famine suddenly realised that War was gleefully egging on the fight between him and Pollution with her horseperson powers. “Red!”

The tension in the air immediately dissipated, and War slunk back, looking chastised.

His head more clear now, Famine smoothed out his tie. The booted footsteps of Death reverberated in the air before he made his appearance. AND HOW MANY ANNIVERSARIES IS THIS NOW? I’VE LOST COUNT.

“You’re late,” said Ambriel snootily.

Death turned to him. Even though he had no face to speak of, and still had his helmet on, everyone could clearly imagine the expression he would make.

“Seven,” said Pollution through a mouthful of crisps.

A second angel descended from the sky, this one unhurried, dragging its proverbial feet.

AND DO I HAVE ANYTHING TO BE LATE FOR THIS TIME? said Death.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” said Ambriel. “Because I have with me the field agent who was responsible for delaying Armageddon last time. So now he’s going to kick it off.”

A chubby angel with oodles of curly hair touched down, looking around guiltily. “Er, hello...I’m Aziraphale.”

“Oh, you looked nicer in a dress,” said Pollution.

“All right,” said Ambriel. “Let’s go, then. Go on.”

Aziraphale shuffled his feet.

“Don’t we need the antichrist?” volunteered Famine.

“The antichrist is unavailable,” said Ambriel icily. “We’ll have to make do without him.”

“Unavailable?!” exclaimed War.

“He means Adam Young doesn’t want Armageddon to happen,” said Aziraphale, who then shut up right quick at an elbow jab from Ambriel.

“You can make it happen without the antichrist?” said Pollution, crunching through a mouthful of crisps. “Thought was the whole point of him. So how does it work?”

“Ahem,” said Ambriel. “That is none of your concern. Just worry about your own part. Now, let’s begin.”

Ambriel stepped forward to direct the horsepersons. War kept looking up at the sky, noticing Armageddon didn’t seem to be happening. Pollution licked their fingers, other hand firmly stuck in their crisps packet.

“And now Aziraphale will--Aziraphale?”

While Ambriel had had his back turned, Aziraphale had scuttled off, wings drawn wide and flapping erratically like a prey animal running from a fox. “Ahhh! Get back here!”

Ambriel went off chasing him. War stood where she was, sword poised, and watched him go. “Um…”

Pollution finished their packet of crisps and dropped it on the ground, wiping their hands on their shirt. “Is he coming back?”

They stayed there for about half an hour waiting for Ambriel, and decided he wasn’t coming back. Ash sweet-talked War into hitting the bars after that. They managed to convince everyone but Death to come along, too.

*************************

August 25, 2001

“Hey, why does it take an apocalypse for us to get together?” said War.

Pollution picked idly at the tablecloth on the little picnic table they had summoned. They were trying to decide if ketchup or mustard would make better stains on it. “Hmm?”

War straddled the bench, picking at the picnic basket. “I mean, I know not everyone likes to spend time with their coworkers outside of work, but there’s nothing stopping us from getting together outside of Armageddon, right?”

Pollution stopped. “Hmm?”

“She’s saying she wants to spend more time with you guys,” said Ash.

“We can do that?!” Pollution said.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” said War.

Pollution’s eyes sparkled.

“Come sit down and enjoy this little basket you put together,” said Ash. “It looks lovely.”

The weather was fabulous, once again with no signs of the inclement weather heralding Armageddon, and a delicious breeze tugged at them and whipping waves through the dry summer grass. Pollution fished out some plastic utensils and set them out on the table.

Ash took a sandwich from the basket. It definitely had worms of some sort in it, but being from Hell, she was used to such things.

“Where’s Famine, anyway?” said Pollution, setting a pile of napkins on the table and watching them immediately blow away in the wind.

“Oh, he’s coming!” said War. “And he said he was bringing a plus one this year.”

“A plus one?”

“Sounds like he’s got a girlfriend too. Or boyfriend. Or what-have-you.”

Pollution scratched their head. “Wonder who it could be.”

With a rustle of grass, Death stood beside them.

“Come sit down!” said War. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

Death looked at them contemplatively. I DIDN’T RECEIVE A SUMMONS THIS YEAR.

“Huh,” said Pollution, letting their sandwich wrapper fall to the ground. “I just realised, neither did I.”

“Yeah,” said War, waving her hand dismissively. “But after doing this annually for ten years, I think we get the point, right?”

Death stood like a silent sentinel. Death was rarely the type to display any emotion at all, but to War and Pollution, it looked like he was fighting to not indulge in some unconventional display of sentiment.

A smile spread across War’s face. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I JUST WANTED TO SEE IF I WAS NEEDED THIS YEAR, said Death.

“Well, Armageddon is probably delayed again,” said War. “So you’re not, really. You’re free to leave.”

Death stood still.

“Come sit down,” said Ash, patting the bench. “You’re always so serious.”

Death clomped over and swung his enormous legs over the wooden bench.

“Heard Famine’s got himself a new squeeze,” gossiped War.

OH, said Death. YES…

The grass in the field next to them dried up, swirling brittle pieces making a small tornado, and with a mournful nicker, a skeletal horse materialized. Its emaciated frame was oozing with dripping wounds and festering decay. Atop its back was a figure in a white robe with a long, beaked mask.

Famine pulled up on his motorcycle. “Fellas, good to see you again!”

“It’s been a very long time,” said the newcomer, although no, he wasn’t new at all…

“You brought Pestilence!” Pollution yelled. “He’s not a horseperson anymore! I replaced him!”

“Tsk tsk, you young punk,” said Pestilence, dismounting. “No respect at all.”

Pollution glared.

“He’s not here as a horseperson,” said Famine. “He’s my plus one.”

“That’s cheating!” said Pollution.

Pestilence winked, which was absolutely infuriating.

Pollution crossed their arms as Famine and Pestilence took their seats. “This looks delightful,” said Pestilence, taking a crisp from a bowl.

Pollution grumbled. Famine was a little disgruntled that they had set up a nice meal, but he muttered an echo of Pestilence’s praise.

“It’s just weird,” said Pollution. “It’s like you’re dating my dad.”

“I’m not your Dad,” said Pestilence. “We barely met before you kicked me out.”

“I think you just don’t like Pestilence,” said Famine.

Pollution bristled. “Maybe.”

Famine shrugged. Somewhere in the world, the minor horseperson of Awkward Interpersonal Issues felt their power surge.

“It’s because they’re afraid I’ll wrangle the job of horseperson #3 from them,” said Pestilence. “The anti-vax moms in the United States are making them nervous.”

Pollution’s cheeks went red.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” said Pestilence. “I don’t want to be one of the Main Four anymore. It’s quite dull. The humans’ attitude towards smallpox ruined the fun for me. Some of my best work, all down the drain. Feff.” He sipped some cola. “But you seem to be doing a splendid job. I hear nowadays everyone’s mad about straws, of all things.”

Pollution perked up. The atmosphere at the table was much lighter after that.

“Isn’t Ambriel going to show up?” said War. “Usually right about now is when he comes down, babbling about how Armageddon is really going to happen this time, and how we need to get ready.”

Pestilence scratched his head. “Ambriel? He’s the one who had to come tell me they were swapping me out for Pollution. He still works in the Department of Armageddon? Poor sod always got the worst jobs pushed onto him.”

Ambriel did, in fact, show up eventually. He had none of his usual bravado. He dragged his sandaled feet through the dirt and flopped down to join them at the picnic table. The four of them shared a look, then looked back at Ambriel. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” said Famine.

“Useless,” said Ambriel. “It’s all useless. Nothing I do ever works. No matter how hard I try, Heaven can’t get its crap together to make Armageddon happen. Oh, pardon my language.”

“Hey, cheer up,” said Pollution. “The first time we tried, the four of us got beaten by little kids with sticks and rocks. That’s way more humiliating than anything you’ve had to go through.”

Famine glared at Pollution. Pollution unwrapped a lolly, enjoying the crinkling of the wrapper.

Ambriel thunked his head on the table, groaning. “No use, it’s no use!”

“Well, we’re all having a lovely time anyway!” said Ash. “August 25 is my favorite day of the year now!”

“It’s supposed to be Armageddon,” moaned Ambriel. “It’s not supposed to be a celebration.”

War stabbed a little cocktail weiner with her Bowie knife. “We’ve been known to celebrate in unconventional ways.”

***************************

Present day

“1845.”

“No, that was you?”

Pollution sucked on their choco-whippy milkshake, eyes bouncing from War to Pestilence.

“Yep,” said Pestilence, leaning back, looking very pleased with himself.

“I thought for sure that was Famine,” said War.

“I wish,” said Famine. “I had been working in Ireland for a few years at that point, but hadn’t had much success.”

“Phytophthora infestans,” said Pestilence. “One of my favorites.

“He refuses to lend it to me,” said Famine. “Greedy bastard.”

“Not your jurisdiction.”

They all shared a hearty laugh.

“Oh, Pollution,” said War, snapping her fingers. “I just remembered. That science project we were talking about the other day, the bacteria that humans were cultivating to break down plastic.”

Pollution’s face screwed up in displeasure.

“I was working on trying to divert some of the NHS’s funding into more bioweapon applications. Maybe if you do me a little favor in return, I can get their funding pulled?”

Pollution nodded happily, sucking through their straw.

“Hey, here he comes!” said War, throwing up her hand.

Death strode over, standing at the edge of the table.

“Sit down,” said Ash, patting the seat. “We’re having a lovely time.”

I HAVE… said Death. If it were possible, he seemed embarrassed.

“What?” said Pollution.

I HAVE ALSO BROUGHT A PLUS ONE.

“What, a boyfriend?” said Pestilence.

NOT LIKE THAT…. said Death. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a small bundle of fur, which blinked and mewled.

Ash had stars in her eyes, putting her hands on her head as though to keep her brain from exploding out. “Is that a kitten?”

I FOUND IT OUTSIDE.

“It’s so cute!” said Pollution.

I HAD NEVER NOTICED THEM BEFORE, said Death. THEY ARE...NICE.

“Well, nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasures of the world,” said Famine. “Since it seems like we’ll be here for a while.”

Death sat down, putting the cat on the table. The minimum wage employees scrambling to make the food didn’t have the time to notice or care.

“We were just discussing some of the other anniversaries we have besides August 25,” said War. “Turns out we have quite a lot of them! We should share.”

Death was silent.

“February 14,” said War. “The start of the first War in Mesopotamia. That was my favorite one. I find the date so deliciously funny with what they’ve done with it now.”

“September 27,” said Pollution. “When the first mass-produced automobile left the factory.”

“What about you?” siad Famine.

“Black’s right,” said Pollution. “You must have one.”

Death hummed for a minute. Then: NOVEMBER 16. THE DAY THE FIRST MAN DIED.

“And kicked all this off,” said Famine. “I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked their glasses against each other’s.

“Hey,” said Famine. “You guys have been calling me ‘Black,’ this whole time, and while I guess it’s technically what I am…. Well, I picked a name. A more human name. You could use it, if you like.”

“Would you like that?” said Pollution.

“I think so. It’s Sable.”

“Raven Sable,” said War. “That’s right. I like it.”

“What about you?” said Sable. “Don’t you have one?”

“Oh, yeah!” said War. “Wouldn’t that just be great! Call me Carmine.”

“It’s such a good name!” said Ash joyfully.

Carmine beamed. She’d never known this would feel good, but it did.

Pollution shyly tapped their fingers on the table. “Chalk, please.”

All eyes turned towards Death.

“Well?” said Chalk. “Only if you want to.”

AZRAEL.

“It’s perfect,” said Ash.

Sable snapped his fingers. “Guys, hold on a second, I just remembered something.”

“Hm?” said Chalk.

“August 25. Armageddon.”

“So?” said Carmine. “That never happens anyway.”

“Well, we were so excited to meet we forgot we were supposed to go to Armageddon first.”

Carmine choked on the pickle she had been eating. “Oh yeah,” said Ash, very slowly. “I guess that’s fine, though. But, oh dear… Did anyone tell Ambriel?”

Azrael grinned, moreso than a regular skeletal grin. I’M SURE HE’S DOING JUST FINE.

“I’ve got it! I’ve finally got it!”

Ambriel, almost tripping over his robes, waved his papers in the air as he sprinted towards Armageddon. “I finally have all the departments in accord, the stars have aligned, the paperwork is signed, the—”

Ambriel stopped and beheld the field of Armageddon, butterflies floating by and flowers bouncing merrily, very conspicuously empty and peaceful and not trodden by the harbingers of Armageddon.

“Oh, dear…”

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic #gohe

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