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casey-v · 3 years

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Valentine

Ethan x Casey

I haven’t written any fics for quite a while, but with OH3 coming soon I’m getting these vibes again….

I always wondered: what would the closing of Edenbrook mean to E x MC’s relationship? Here’s my attempt to this part of the story.

Sorry in advance for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

Warnings: none, I guess (maybe a few smutty thoughts)

Words: 3K

Disclaimer: all characters owned by PB

Participating in @choicesfebchallenge Day14: Valentine

“Good morning Dr. Valentine. This is your day today, isn’t it?” The nurse Rose greeted Casey as she entered the free clinic.

“Good morning. Yeah, I get that a lot.” Casey tried a friendly smile. Since she had been a child everyone referred to her last name on Valentine’s Day, making a remark or joking around. As a teenager it had made her feel special, but by now she was tired of hearing it. Especially today.

She had been in a bad mood since she woke up and it had nothing to do with her last name or Rose. But it had everything to do with the man who simply ignored this day today, probably didn’t even know it existed.

It was perfectly clear to Casey, that these kinds of traditions meant nothing to Ethan. Nevertheless, her disappointment was huge because she had had great expectations for today. After a few difficult weeks she had hoped that a romantic dinner could bring them closer together again.

After the gala and their public kiss everything had seemed perfect and she had spent some time on cloud number nine. But then Ethan gradually became distant and a little grumpy again. They both often worked double shifts and meetings outside the hospital became rare. And they never talked about their life after Edenbrook’s closing. Whenever they got close to that topic, Ethan would change the subject. And Casey was also in denial; she hadn’t applied to any jobs outside greater Boston because she didn’t want to lose Ethan. But maybe it was too late now anyway, she didn’t even know what point in their relationship they really were at.

“Has he told you yet?” Sienna interrupted her thoughts.

“Hi Sienna. No, I still have no idea what we’re doing tonight.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic. For sure he has something incredibly special planned for the two of you.”

Casey tried to maintain a cheerful façade even though she actually felt like crying. But Sienna’s enthusiasm was also kind of sweet, so she managed a smile.

“You seem more excited than I am.”

“I’m hosting a lonely-hearts roomie dinner tonight, so at least let me enjoy the romance in your life.”

Casey felt bad that she was being dishonest with her friend. It was silly, but she would rather spend the night at the movies on her own and then sleep in an on-call room than admit to her friend that Ethan wasn’t going to take her out on a date. Besides, talking about it would make it more real: their relationship was probably on the rocks.

A busy morning at the clinic kept Casey occupied and gave her no opportunity to dwell on her misery. As she was preparing an IV for a patient, she suddenly sensed someone right behind her.

“Dr. Valentine, can you please run some tests on this patient and then get back to me as soon as possible?”

Usually her favorite baritone voice quickened her heartbeat, but today it sounded businesslike and not appealing at all. When she turned around Ethan didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he just thrust a patient chart into her hand and was gone before Casey even had the chance to respond.

At first, she stood there with her mouth open, unable to move, a dreadful feeling spreading through her chest. She had barely seen him all week and that was all she got?

When her vision started to get blurred by tears, she quickly ran to a supply closet, locked the door and sank to the floor.

What now? She couldn’t decide whether she was more sad or mad. How could it be, that things went wrong so fast after everything they had been through together? And how dare he talk to her like a random intern, shoving that patient file into her hands so rudely. He wasn't even her boss anymore.

She still held the chart clutched to her chest and now wanted to check what seemed so urgent. But what she saw didn't make any sense. There was only a last name on it and an address, but everything else was blank. As she turned the page her heart took a leap. She wiped away a few tears and stared at the blank piece of paper. Two words stared back at her.

Dinner tonight?

When she finally remembered to breathe again, she flipped back to the first page and now the pieces were falling into place.

Sorellina, Huntington Ave.

She knew the name had sounded familiar. “Sorellina” wasn't a patient's name; it was the name of a fancy Italian restaurant in the Back Bay. To be sure she pulled out her phone and searched the internet. And what she found there brought a bright smile to her face.

…the ultimate destination if you're looking to really impress a date…

.. one of the most romantic spots in the city…

…awesome place for date nights…

So he didn’t forget after all! But why the strange behavior? Some things didn’t add up. You don’t get a reservation like this one day in advance. He must have planned this weeks ago. A lot had changed since and now maybe he just wanted to give them one last shot? He wouldn’t be so heartless to dump her on Valentine’s day, would he?

Casey was totally confused. Was she just misinterpreting the whole situation? But she couldn’t be that paranoid. Something was brewing and she was determined to find out tonight, no matter what. This time she would confront him and for once she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

But first she had to get through the day somehow, and she had to head home during her lunchbreak to choose a breathtaking dress. And pack an overnight bag, just in case. Not to forget the special brand of scotch she had ordered for Ethan. And she had to tell Sienna. And…

Okay! First of all, she had to calm down and concentrate on her work. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took a pen out of her pocket and wrote below Ethan’s message.

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

After leaving the supply closet she randomly grabbed two other files, placed hers in between and handed them to an intern. “Please get this to Dr. Ramsey immediately.” Then she went back to her patient, who was still waiting for his IV.

The day seemed to drag on endlessly. In the afternoon she found the piece of paper out of the fake patient file in her coat pocket.

Dinner tonight?

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

my office, 7 pm 😊

He had even drawn an emoji! Smiling she added one more line.

Dessert at your place?

Then she quickly ran upstairs, sneaked into Ethan’s office, and put the piece of paper onto his desk. Her eyes fell on the big clock on the wall: 4 pm! Three more hours to go.

*******

Ethan sat behind his desk, already dressed in his tux, trying to focus on some files. But instead of working, he kept repeating in his head what he wanted to say tonight.

It was ridiculous. Usually, he gave speeches in front of hundreds of fellow doctors and here he was, being nervous about talking to one single woman. The difference was that he felt very qualified to talk about his profession, but he was totally insecure when it came to talking about his feelings. With Casey, he wasn't Dr. Ramsey, a famous and respected diagnostician; with her, he was simply Ethan, a man struggling with the changes in his life.

The sound of high heels echoed through the hallway and announced Casey's arrival. Trying to calm his nerves Ethan busied himself with his paperwork as she entered the office. He didn't raise his head, instead he just glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. As he did, she put her hands on her hips, pushing the winter coat aside to give him full view of her stunning dress. And it had the desired effect. The small piece of black nothingness took his breath away.

“Dr. Ramsey, don't you think it's inappropriate to look at a colleague that way?”

He swallowed hard, but he wouldn’t let her tease him like that.

“Dr. Valentine, don't you think it's inappropriate to wear something like that in your workplace?”

She smirked at him.

“Not as much as taking it off right here in your office.”

Defeated he shook his head, a smile showing at the corners of his mouth. He had to fight the urge to leap over his desk and take her right there against the office door, but instead he only sighed deeply and reached for his coat. This had to wait.

“We better get going or I don't know what I'll do!”

Together they left the office and walked to his car, holding hands. But despite their little banter just now there was an odd silence between them.

*******

The restaurant really was the perfect setting for a special date. Casey was overwhelmed and also kind of intimidated by the atmosphere. To her, it felt more like a first date with a guy she had a crush on than a dinner with the man she had been dating for month. And Ethan seemed equally self-conscious. But after some champagne, they both loosened up and had a really great time.

Almost.

Casey knew Ethan too well by now not to notice that something was strange about him tonight. She couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in her gut.

Back in his apartment, after she had given him her gift, he sat down on the couch with a serious face and asked her to sit down as well.

“I have something for you, too”

Blushing slightly, he handed her a small box and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wanted to…, I mean this is… Oh, just open it and then I’ll explain!”

Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box and saw, lying on a tiny silk cushion, a key. From the looks of it, she assumed it was the key to his apartment. Casey gave Ethan a questioning look and waited for the promised explanation. But it didn’t come. Ethan seemed uncomfortable and pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, he just blurted it out.

“Want to move in with me?”

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this certainly wasn’t on the list. But why now? Hundreds of different thoughts whirled through Casey’s head all at once. At first she just stared at him, then she burst into tears. For a long time Ethan looked at her helplessly, finally he ran a hand through his hair in frustration and murmured: “Obviously not.”

At that, Casey’s head snapped up. “No, no, no! I do, of course I do!” She wiped some tears from her face and explained between occasional sobs.

“The thing is: Whenever I imagined moving in with you, I got sad about not living with my friends anymore. And now I’ve just realized it doesn’t matter because in a couple of weeks they’ll all be gone anyway, scattered across the country. I’m going to miss them so much. And since I don’t know where I am going to be, there’s no point in moving in with you either.”

She shook her head, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, it just seems that everything is falling apart. This morning I wasn’t even sure whether you want to break up with me or not and I thought that…”

“Whoa, hold it right there. What on earth are you talking about?”

From Ethan’s shocked expression Casey could tell that it had obviously never occurred to him to break up. Slightly embarrassed she continued in an unsteady voice.

“I mean, the way you’ve been acting lately, especially this morning, you’ve been so rude….”

Ethan gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, wiped away her tears, and sighed.

“Oh Casey, I’m so sorry. But you know me; you know that I hate talking in front of patients. And I had a lot on my mind; I’ve been nervous all day about our date.”

He smiled shyly and shook his head. Then his gaze darkened again, guilt clearly written on his face. His brows furrowed, and he backed away a little.

“Although you’re right that I’ve been putting some distance between us lately. But I needed clarity about the whole job situation. And us. All my life I’ve planned everything three steps ahead and then suddenly it felt like I was losing control. I know I can’t ask you to stay because you have to finish your residency at one of the best hospitals in the country. Thus, I have tortured myself to figure out how we can make things work and I’ve been miserable all this time. Until I realized the answer is fairly simple.”

Casey couldn’t believe that they had both been so distraught for weeks, and instead of sharing and confiding in each other, they were just brooding over the challenges ahead, each to their own. Slowly, the uneasy feeling inside her stomach began to dissipate, although she had no idea what he was talking about.

“What answer?”

Ethan took her hand and he gently drew circles on the back of it with his thumb, his eyes following its movement.

“Edenbrook has been my home for almost 12 years now, and if they take it away from me, what else is there? Naveen, of course, and my father nearby, but other than that ….”

All this time Casey held the box with the key in one hand. Now he took it from her and raised the key to eye level. Her gaze wandered back and forth between the key and Ethan. He cleared his throat in search of words, but they didn’t come. Her heart hammered in her chest, the tension almost unbearable. Finally, his blue eyes met hers and he found the courage to speak, his voice husky and low.

“This isn’t just the key to my apartment, Casey. This key means I want to live with you, wherever that may be.”

His last words were only a whisper. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Casey couldn’t even begin to grasp what it all meant. She would be able to apply to any hospital in the country and Ethan would be with her. Live with her.

An overwhelming feeling of happiness spread through her body.

“You really would do this for me?”

“No, if I’m honest I’m doing this not for you but for myself. I don’t want to go back to being that grumpy cynic I once was before I met you. I’m lost without you.”

The full meaning of his words sent a prickling sensation down her spine, but she was also amused.

“Ethan, you’re one of the most famous and respected physicians, you’ve managed perfectly fine without me for 36 years.”

Ethan put down the key and the box from her hand and took both her hands, his gaze intense.

“But it’s taken me 36 years to find out what it means to be genuinely happy.”

Those last words took all her breath right out of her and her heart was ready to explode. His eyes pierced hers as he waited for a response.

He moved closer und squeezed her hands tightly, his eyes still dark.

“So, what do you say?”

She couldn’t resist the temptation to mess with him.

“Let me get this straight: You’re telling me, if I said no, there would be no one to tell you if you’re acting like a goddam diva again?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth realizing what she was getting at. “Probably.”

Grinning she went on. “And who would be there to help you with your social media accounts?”

“Nobody.”

Ethan’s eyes began to light up as she moved onto his lap, mischief in her smile.

“And there would be no one who would dare to tease you?”

“Right.”

Their faces were now only a breath away.

“And nobody there to make you pancakes?”

“Exactly. What would become of me?”

Her mouth moved to the side of his neck. After a line of soft kisses, she started nibbling on his earlobe and whispered. “And no one, who would do this?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not hard to find someb…”

She quickly backed away and punched his arm playfully. “Don’t you dare!”

Ethan was now gleaming all over his face. He tucked a finger under her chin and gently nudged her nose with his. “So is that a YES?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“Not really!”

And then at last his lips found hers, first slowly, barely touching, until they both gave in and melted into each other. All the tension of the day, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks fell off and there was only him and her. While the kisses grew more and more urgent, his hands started to roam over her body and slowly he unzipped her dress. As his warm hand gently slid down her back, Casey felt his hot breath on her ear.

“If I remember correctly, you promised me dessert.”

“We already had a selection of delicious Italian desserts.”

“But I’m still very hungry. And first of all, this dress has to go. The sight of it has been tormenting me all evening.”

*****

The bedroom was almost dark. Ethan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was unable to put his mind to rest after the events of the day. He turned over to watch the stunning woman sleeping next to him. The moonlight on her face made her even look more beautiful. From now on, he would have the privilege of waking up to this sight every morning. That thought alone made his heart leap.

Gently, he draped the sheets over her shoulder, brushed her hair out of her face and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek; always careful not to wake her.

Smiling down at her he whispered. “I love you, Casey Valentine.”

Never before had these words left his lips. And now didn’t even count either because she couldn’t hear them. He had tried to tell her many times, but the moment never seemed right. Today would have been the perfect occasion, but he had chickened out again.

It was absurd. They had started to plan their future together. Why was it so hard? Three simple words!

Laying back down he whispered, more to himself.

“I’m going to tell you. Soon.

Maybe tomorrow.”

----------------------------------------

Thank you if you have made it so far.

This piece has really been a challenge, it took me forever. I’ve changed it a couple of times and I am still not quite satisfied, but at some point you just have to let go.

Tagging seperately.

#choicesfebruarychallenge2021 #open heart #playchoices #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #casey valentine #ethan jonah ramsey #my writing #fanfic

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lesbiradshaw · 3 years

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Genuinely interested in what you think about Bucky being perceived as female-coded in some parts of the fandom. I read that thread years ago and agreed with because it sounded logical, but now I'm not so sure. Recently found out about the existence of this Tony Stark meta essay called "Tony Stark as the most female-coded superhero" and they use the same arguments: loss of agency, playing the damsel in distress role more often than their counterpart, etc. I can't take "fm-coded" seriously anymore

oh boy ...

idk how long this will end up but to preface whatever we do end up with: 1) im a nonbinary lesbian so my perception on what it means to be a woman and femininity in general is not going to be what a lot of other peoples is and 2) im a few months out from getting a degree in gender studies. take that for what you will. no i will not be arguing about this in my inbox.

to be frank, in my opinion, bucky being female coded is bullshit. not only is it bullshit, i have seen it used as a weapon by so many white women and terfs that even if it were true, i wouldnt care! whoever came up with the term “woobify” (which i have most often seen used in reference to how tony stark is treated) needs to tell bucky stans that they aren’t exempt. a lot of them see bucky being a victim as something that needs a continuation into every other part of his life, hence why he’s so often put into these weird dynamics with his ships and given traits he’s never displayed on screen.

i keep thinking of disclaimers to make in anticipation of people coming to my inbox crying so here’s another: if you are a woman or someone who feels a close connection to certain parts of womanhood, me saying bucky isnt woman coded in no way takes away from you identifying with him or parts of his story. that is personal. a woman’s personal relation to him is not reliant on “woman coding” as i’ve seen a lot of white women and terfs suggest, not does it strengthen the existence of such coding. coding is created within the original media, not within the fandom.

i also just realized ive been using the term woman coded rather than female coded, but i think subconsciously there is a reason for that that ties into one of my main points pretty well: the mcu stan’s definition of “female” coding relies on stereotypes, not about female roles, but about what it means in their opinion to be a woman. the issue with this is they take traits they think only exist in (cishet) women and use them to deem these (cishet) male characters as woman coded when in fact these traits are not exclusive to women and enforce weird standards upon people who are women that might not be cis or het or share these traits!

tony stark being short and bucky having long hair is not what would make them woman coded. bucky being rescued by a man while woozy is not what would make him woman coded. bucky being submissive to pierce when LITERALLY BEING BRAINWASHED is not what would make him woman coded. and perhaps a harsh wake up call: bucky’s story hinging around loss of agency issues and trauma in no way shape or form is what would make him woman coded. does it perhaps make him easier for many women to relate to? yes. but is this something exclusive to women? no. a vast majority of trauma victims are going to relate to him, and chalking up trauma to being something female makes me feel really funny.

i know exactly what thread youre talking about lmfao and its right up there on my shit list next to the childlike bucky post. theyre actually very similar now that i think about it ... but anyways. now that ive listed my woes about what doesnt make a character woman coded, what actually would! AND HERE IS WHERE WE GET INTO AN ACTUAL CASE OF WOMAN CODING! mr prequel series anakin skywalker aka my shakespearean downfall dilf. why is he seen as a valid example of woman coding? i will tell you.

the thing about woman coding is that its meant to subvert heteronormative tropes while remaining self aware of that to exploit and emphasize the change. DO YOU HEAR ME? SELF AWARE! anakin is given many of these stupid stereotypical traits i mentioned before, but they arent reliant on physical appearance at all. they are reliant on roles. padme is the levelheaded senate leader, the one with power and stability, while anakin is hotheaded and frankly a bit whimsical while he struggles for his own type of power and control. another classic example of woman coding (which i actually wrote a paper on last semester in my men and masculinities class) is heathcliff from wuthering heights, whose counterpart to his coding is cathy. both men have that whimsicality in common that contrasts heavily with how we would expect them to act. bucky does not act like them at all.

the reason that this is different from bucky and steve’s ‘damsel in distress’ argument is the self awareness i mentioned before. not to mention the weird heteronormative standards being applied as requirements for their gay relationship to be seen as valid because it “fits the narrative” but .. anyways.

anakin and heathcliff both have their subverted traits played up in a way that shows off how ridiculous the women usually written in their roles are forced to act. its tongue in cheek, because woman coding is not only about individual traits, but about how the character interacts with the story because of this as a whole. bucky is often seen as woman coded because he is put into these situations where he is “rescued” by someone that half his stans see as his love interest (steve my baby im sorry) when hes really only rescued maybe twice? at azzano and from the water when the helicopter crashed. only one of those is a real damsel in distress situation. all of the others are cases where hes fighting his own way out ????? bucky doesnt just sit around waiting for a “real man” to get off his ass as that post suggested but i digress.

anyways. mcu stans lack any self awareness that would be required even if bucky and tony were woman coded. calling them woman coded does not count as self awareness! the real self awareness comes with recognizing that woman coding doesnt actually make these characters women and it doesnt mean they forever belong in these “female” roles. mcu stans take the stereotypes they pick out at face value and use them to say “look! bucky is a bottom!” or to continue taking away his agency by ignoring all of his other actions and traits that dont fit in to this mold theyve made around the idea that he needs a man to save him or boss him around. his story as a whole is the only thing that would make him woman coded and seeing as there is no self awareness of this shown, no attempts to subvert, he displays little to no traditionally feminine traits, and loss of agency on its own is not something that only applies to women ...

in short: in my opinion, bucky is not woman coded. mcu stans just like rolling with stereotypes that rely around cis bodies and straight relationships. the end.

#oh also woman coding does not make a mape character trans lmfaoooooo #thats frankly just insulting #trans men are not men with feminine traits please for the love of god shut up #anyways this is my opinion and you dont have to agree but cis people arent allowed to argue with me

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

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Ghosting A Wayne

Masterlist

Warnings: Adult content +18 only!! Smut, Agegap, Swearing, A Little Angst?

A/n:Ok so this is the first real full smut iv done and im super nervous about posting this one i hope its good but if its shit im sorry hope you enjoyxx

After getting cold feet because of your own insecurities you get a visitor pick you up from work.

Ghosting A Wayne

You sighed as you pulled out a batch of cookies from the oven placing the three large trays out on the cooling racks today was a baking day to fill the display out the front ,you'd been alone with your thoughts all day and were just about done, glancing at the clock you fist pumped the air. Home time. You quickly undone your apron hanging it on the hook by the kitchen door then called out to Tom that your shift was done.

After your first lunch date with Bruce you intended to leave it there but the man was very persistent... and charming somehow he'd managed to talk you in circles and wrangle a second date and third and forth. you'd canceled your fifth using work as an excuse and he bought it for about a week, then he began asking when you were free telling you to call him giving you his personal number which you didn't call.

That worked for about three days before he began messaging you about a date you replied with excuses it seemed to work until he showed up at the door to drop Damien round instead of Alfred, Jack had covered for you not letting either of them in saying you were ill. It wasn't that you didn't like him or anything you were scared, scared of getting hurt he was amazing a perfect gentleman he made you laugh he took you to fancy places but didn't make you uncomfortable even going so far as to berate another guest as he heard them make a comment of the restaurant 'letting anyone in these days' when he was returning from the rest room , you felt special and safe with him.

But he was The Bruce Wayne and nothing would ever come of it. Someone like you had no right to be with someone like him, he deserved a high class well educated successful woman not a minimum wage cafe worker who dropped out of college. You found yourself growing to attached to him and it had frightened you. Not only that but what would people say when they found out, probably think your a charity case or a gold digger you could see the headlines now ' The playboys new sugar baby' with photos of you plastered across the tabloids you shivered.

Damien had spoke to you about it he was far to smart for his own good telling you your being a 'stupid female' and that you should just talk to Bruce about it, Jack also scolded you for being stupid and letting your insecurities hold you back.

The boy had been soo happy for you when you were going out with Bruce, he admitted that he felt responsible for you being alone and not having friends or a boyfriend it broke your heart, hearing how he blamed himself for it, yes it had been hard taking on a 8 year old at 20 years old and yes you did need to grow up quicker then most and avoid the typical early twenties drinking and clubbing but you wouldn't change a thing. When he had brought it up you both had a heart to heart and you were gobsmacked at just how mature he had soundec. He told you that he didn't care about Bruce being Damien's dad or that he was older than you, he was happy that you had someone who made you happy and wanted you to got out with him again and be happy. The boys didn't understand.

"Tom I'm finished don't touch the cookies before they cool you can have one to test but that's it theirs 48 here I've counted, so if you have anymore I will know its you, you greedy little shit" you said opeing the door you walked straight into him he was wide eyed pointing out to the font over his shouldet. You froze thinking the worst it was gotham afterall.

"Oh my god tom?"

"You have.. Out the there.... Man front" he said not making any sense you pushed past him through the door

"whats wron-"

"y/n!" you snapped your head to the counter seeing Bruce standing their ignoring the odd looks he received from the other few customers scattered about in the cafe. You slung your bag over your shoulder cradling your coat in the other hand cursing quietly. Scanning the cafe for a quick exit wanting to run. There was one way in and out and he was between you and the door. Giving in you plastered on a polite smile.

"Bruce what are you doing here?" you asked tentatively due to the blank look on his face unsure what mood he would be in after you ghosted him. Making your way around the counter he followed on the other side meeting you at the end.

"I wanted to take you out, Jack told me when you finished so I thought I'd come pick you up for dinner" you felt the gazes in the room shift from him to you and the whispers started. Bruce held out a hand taking your coat from you while you tried to come up with a reason not to your anxiety screaming at you to run. You sighed at him biting your lower lip raw he lifted a hand pulling it gently forcing you to release it. He smiled meeting your eyes trying to calm you.

"Bruce I don't feel like going out tonight can we reschedule?" hooking his arm around your waist guiding you out of the cafe past the gossiping customers opening the door for the both of you pressing himself to your back giving you no room to bolt away. Hed catch you anyway.

"Good news, we don't have to go out Alfred is making us dinner back home, so we get to have a relaxing night in." you nodded as you left walking down the street feeling your nerves spike as you realized there was no reason to avoid this. He kept pace with you to the side arms ready to dart out and catch you as you glanced around a little skittish he ushered you into a ridiculously expensive Lamborghini and took off down the road.

"So that's Tom then? the one you were talking about?" he started you were confused as he acted like you hadn't been avoiding him for the past week and half you just nodded.

"Err yeah that's him we get along work really well, I was doing all the baking today couldn't handle the customers they were doing my head in." he nodded placing a warm hand on your knee running his thumb in small circles you took a deep breath.

"I know what you mean, had a lot of meetings today with a bunch little men wanting me to over invest in companies that wont last the financial year" you tensed as he left his hand on your leg still navigating the traffic, you tried to shift your led from underneath him but he just followed squeezing it lightly making your breath hitch and clench your walls tight.

"Sh-shouldn't you have both hands on the wheel in a car like this?" you asked quietly he laughed giving you a mischievous look then you screamed as he let go of the wheel completely still picking up speed quickly.

"OH MY GOD BRUCE NO!" you cried leaning over grabbing it yourself he just laughed out loud placing one hand back on it the other still resting on your knee.

"Its fine I could probably drive this with my eyes closed, it's nothing like my other car" he said cheekily as he made his way towards the outskirts of gotham you swallowed nervously.

"yeah please dont do that"

"Don't worry I'd never let anything happen to you sweets" you blushed as he used the nickname he'd given you onde he found out about your sweet tooth and the fact you do all the baking at the cafe.

"He says after driving without hands." you scoffed looking out of the window as the scenery changed. It wasn't long before you pulled up to the manor. It was impressive you'd only been inside twice whilst waiting for Jack to get his things he thought it was the perfect place to hid from his dentist and doctors appointments. Once out of the car he lead you inside where Alfred greeted you both.

"Ah Master Wayne dinner will take another hour or so I'm afraid and Y/n its lovely to see you again." Bruce gave you both a look seeking an explanation for the first name basis.

"Have you met everyone in this house before me?" he asked sarcastically you smiled at him before Alfred took your coats hanging them up.

"Well sometimes the boys play about getting ready so Alfred comes in for tea whilst we wait and I've met Tim he has come over a few times drank my whole pot of coffee and left." he grunted before leading you to a small sitting room off to the side.

"We will be in here Alfred call us when dinner is ready." Alfred nodded smiling slyly before closing the door leaving you in private. You sat down on the leather sofa a nervous wreck looking around the opulent room feeling out of place, he took a seat beside you offering you a glass of what you assumed was scotch he sat and leaned in next to you. Relaxing as he took a slow sip of his drink.

"Don't look so worried the boys explained for you. Your scared of getting hurt I can understand that I don't exactly have the best record but I'm not giving up as you can tell."you looked down into your glass a little ashamed as you heard hurt laced in his words.

"I-its not that, its me I.. I love spending time with you I really do... but I dont think you should waste your time on me... thats all" he frowned you sounded so ...defeated , he didnt like it one bit placing his glass down putting two and two together. That he didn't know Damien said you were being a 'difficult woman' and Jack had said that you hadn't dated since school and were afraid of being hurt he summarised that it was because of him but it sounds like there was more to it then that. Bruce took a deep breath regarding you carefully.

"Waste my time? why would spending time with you be a waste. There is something between us, I have never felt this type of pull to a woman before and I'm quite determind to see you if you havent already noticed" he said sternly you shrunk into the sofa he sighed pulling the glass tumbler from you hand.

"Whats really going on? we were going fine then you just pulled back. I want this, us and I know you do to but we have to talk to each other." You leaned forward locking eyes with him feeling overwhelmed you shook your head pulling back he followed leaning back pulling you across the seat wrapping his arms around you pulling your face into his chest holding you, you tried pulling yourself off of him but he was to stronger than he looked. You Gave up then took a deep breath endulging in the closeness breathing him in.

"Talk to me please" he spoke quietly into your hair

"I cant, I just cant, your-I, you need someone better. And if people find out then what will they think? that I'm a charity case some passing fancy? that you'll get bored with and you will bruce. When you find some older succsessfull women who equals you. someone that I can never be for you. I wont be good enough for you and you'll see it one day" once you started you couldn't stop as the words kept coming your fears poured out after being kept bottled up since that very first date.Fears of loving him and then him leaving, or of what backlash Jack could face if you were painted to be a whore trying to capture Bruces attention, the cps could investigate if it seemed like you were becoming a party girl like what Bruce typically dated. Then there was the fact that the school could start being funny if word got out that you and bruce were together. But the main reason was that he was to good for you and you knew it. You heaved a breath feeling lighter yet your stomach churned he had been quiet throughout and you'd gotten yourself worked up shaking from your anxiety feeling sick to your stomach.

"I'm sorry I know I should have spoke to you instead but I... I was scared that you were going to realize I'm right and leave ...so" he hushed you rubbing your back lightly causing you to shiver and relax onto his chest.

"So you left before I could?" you flinched then nodded it sounded so petty when said out loud he moved sitting up a bit more dragging you with him not releasing you for a second, he would have preferred if it had all been about his past but now realized you had low self esteem you had fears about the future, the age gap, Jacks future and how people would judge you all of these fear were to blame. And he understood it must be daughting, but what got him most was that you thought he'd let you deal with it alone , that you were so scared of loosing him in the long run you tried to walk away now and that was all the proof he needed that you did feel somthing for him.

"Tell me something does Jack have a problem with you being with me?" he asked you shook your head instantly.

"No he loves it, he wants me to be with you he saw how happy I was he has been pestering me to call" he pulled his head away smiling confusing you.

"I can tell you that Damien is thrilled he has even been bragging to his brothers that I've found the perfect woman and they cant wait to meet you by the way the

and he threatened me before every date to 'not to fuck it up' so let me ask another question if Jack, Damien me and you are happy what does anyone else's opinion matter? it's our life why should we make ourselves miserable over a few tabloids that can be taken to court and be corrected? and I do have reporters that I trust with these type of stories one is a very close friend who I could give an exclusive to before any rumors get around and the press make up some nonsense. Not only that I know Clark wold print the truth if he knew that it involved the boys being bullied in the school." he let you pull back shocked you didnt think he would want anyone to know, you thought hed be ashamed of you.

"wh-what?" it was bearly a whisper but he heard it.

"You heard me sweets, Clark wouldn't let me down not with this and there are other reporters who I've trusted to cover stories of the boys in the past one phone call and I would have everything sorted and anyone who tries to make this something its not will feel the full force of my legal team." he leaned in giving you no time to reply kissing you deeply invading your mouth moaning into you. His tongue dominated your mouth taking your breath away he paused pulling you to straddle his waist you blushed looking down at him.Trying to put your weight on your knees conscious of your weight Bruce not having any of that tugged harshly pulling your weight on his thighs.

"And as for finding someone better I doubt it. I've said it before and I will say it again I want you. Not some stuck up model who's one surgery away from being on botched. The day we met I was floored and for the first time I saw what I truly wanted for me and my family. And it wasn't some highly educated business woman, no it was a sexy little mama bear who treated my son as her own." you gasped as he brought your hips closer resting you on his crotch before leaning forward capturing your lips again this time slow and deliberate pouring himself into it you, you moaned quietly as he rocked you across his groin. Pulling back for air

"So little miss now we have all that cleared up is there anything you want to add?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" you gasped out trying to collect yourself as you began getting tearful as you felt stupid for being so silly yet relieved that he hadn't thrown you out, he chuckled shushing you then moved biting at your earlobe .

"That's ok love I'm sure you'll make it up to me" he said kissing down your neck biting below your ear then lower to your pulse point feeling it race under his tongue before sucking harshly bordering on painful.

"o-OH Bruce" you gasped gripping his shoulder trying not to lean back to far and fall he noticed using and arm to hold you elbow resting on your waist curling his fingers into your low bun pulling slowly stretching your neck before him leaving marks up it you groaned closing your eyes trying to rub your thighs together as your pussy grew hot and clenched dampening your panties he ran his nose down your neck kissing your collar bone lightly.

"Aww sweety so desperate hm?" you whined squeezing his hips between your thighs again grinding softly against him he chuckled biting the top of your breast running his tongue along your cleavage unbuttoning your blouse with deft fingers then returned them to your hips pushing you harshly on his erection you cried out looking down panting as he dragged you slowly back and forth feeling him through his trousers was almost to much you fisted your hands in the crisp shirt covering his shoulders. He let out a breathy growl smug as you started trying to rock on him faster pouting when he held you controlling your pace circling you slow on his bulge dipping his thumbs into your pelvis tilting you catching your clit with every pass of your hips you shook your head eyes tightly shut.

"OH fuck shiiitt Bruce" he watched eyes blown as he built you up slowly drinking in your flushed face pouty full lips forming an 'o' as you let out high pitched cries his hands smothered your breasts squeezing them in his palms testing them before he tipped the cups down teasing your pink nipples to attention. You opened your eyes glazed over pleading with him.

"Please Bruce... I dont-fuck" you moaned high and louder almost squeeling as he pinched one of your nipples refusing to let go pulling your chest towards him by it until he could lay a sweet kiss to the other suckling catching it between his teeth nipping it letting go with a loud pop. You panted harder as he toyed with you, your body trembled as he pulled you closer to the edge your clit rubbed harshly against him and he growled relishing in the way your heat seeped onto him. He couldn't wait. He wouldn't. With a one sweeping motion you found yourself lying on the sofa with him hovering over you pulling your leggings down over your hips skimming your quivering thighs with his knuckles befor rubbing your calves and griping your ankles encircling them effortlesly, running his thumbs across the inside of them . Following bending as he went kissing your soft stomach and pelvis finally leaving a small kiss on your mound over your panties you moaned at that. He slipped your leggings off taking your flats with them you blushed as he stared seeing the wet patch you'd left on your panties crawling back up you exploring with his hands the whole way. Hooking a hand around to back of your neck he pulled you up into a bruising kiss needy as he angled his head to devour you deeper his other hand dragging your shirt from you by the back of the neck unclipping your bra and he went lowering you back down you blushed trying to cover yourself he growled pinning them beside you.

"Nooo you dont babe, let me see, show me" he ground out a deep gruntle sound that vibrated threw you trailing the tips of his fingers from your throat down in slow unpredictable patterns leaving goosebumps in his wake your nipples pebbled as he past them your whole body shuddered

"Fuck. Your stunning" you didn't meet his gaze it was to hot, posessive like he was claiming you already just with his eyes watching closely memorizing every freckle and mark on your skin, he let out a deep shuddering breath when you arched up inyo him as he fingered the bow on the waist band of your panties back and forth he brought his fingers lower and lower across your mound. You squirmed trying to buck up against him trying to get him where you desperately needed him whimpering pitifully. His response was to stretch out his fingers across your lower tummy and push you back down holding you still. You protested as his warm hand covered your whole mound and rocked forward trying to catch your clit on the heal of his palm that rested just out of reach.

"Such a greedy little thing. I think I'm going to have to work on your manners" he chided before using a hand to unbutton his shirt revealing a perfectly sculpted torso, you made a noise in the back of your throat that you didn't recognize at the sight of him, caramel skin taught over deliciously defined muscles and small thatch of hair disappearing below a teasingly low hanging trousers he let the shirt slide to the floor undoing his belt then slowly pulled his trousers over his hip grunting thrusting forward as it glided over his cock. You bit your lip still trying to move against his heavy hand he granted you a little mercy twisting as the wrist slotting his thumb between your lips seeking your clit and rubbing a figure 8 hard.

"AHH! F-Fuck BRUCE yes oh god-" you gasped deep breaths as he rolled your cilt around almost rough in his ministrations the fabric of you panties hieghtend the sensation you closed your eyes grinding yourself down on him tears leaked from them his other hand came up to your throat forcing you to face him.

"Look at me baby. come on let me see you... ah there she is good girl" he praised as you looked at him tears clinging to your lashes his hand still working you. Sobbing incoherently trying to buck up to him.

"OH fuck please-PLEASE let me come bruce please I'll do anything PLEASE" you breathed out hoarse gasping when your pussy weeped wetting the sofa below you he played you like an instrument taking you higher and higher you clenched and withered as you felt that familiar burn of an orgasm start in your lower tummy , almost cramping as it traveld lower to your pussy you chased it trying to rock harder just as you were at the presapice he stopped pulling his thumb away bit still pinned you down.

"AH! NO Br-BRUCE come back" you sobbed reaching out for him as your body hummed hot and quivering you gave up on finding his hand throwing yours between you trying to take over and force yourself over the edge. Soo close. Bruce was quicker catching them in one hand pulling them above you head. He watched waiting for you to come down from the almost high. Pouting all the way.

"You can count that as your punishment babe" he whispered huskliey into your neck kissing at the marks he has left. You cried out frustarated sweaty and exhasted.

"But im feeling a little mercifull tonight." you looked at him from below your lashes his heart skipped a beat seeing you look at him so needy and ready you looked so small,he could do anything to you right now but only wanted one thing. Shuffling back leaning down he placed an open mouthed kiss on your panties slipping his fingers in the sides draging them off before standing removing his boxers freeing his erection you gasped as it bounced up tapping his stomach ,hesitantly you reached out running a single finger along the underside from tip to base he jerked forward when you cupped him testing your grip befor stroking him he stopped you

"Fuck sorry babe but I cant wait." he growled out pinning you back down running his weeping head up and down your slit you tensed as he probed your enterance. Sensing your nerves he locked lips with you coaxing out your tongue sucking on it before licking in your mouth makeing obscene noises feeling you relax he took the chance and slowly begun stretching you around him ,you gasped at the slight sting pulling back rest your forehead on his grunting softly as he kept a slow steady pressure finally knocking his hips with yours you panted feeling your walls fluttering around him then squeezing

"shit Bruce" he huffed out a laugh flexing in response

"carefull there babe" you grunted feeling stuffed full as his head pushed against your cervix.

"Bruce please...HUrry up!" you clenched him stealing his breath from him he gave a playfull glare you felt a little tremor of apprehension as he repostioned your legs higher on his hips placing your heels into his lower back before plowing you into the sofa grunting and growling as his thrusts rocked your body you were by no means quiet as the veins on his cock massaged your walls with delicious friction he slowed then pressed himself tight against your clit rotating catching your gspot you bucked violenty against him head thrown back as you wailed he leaned up sucking and biting at your neck then resumed finding a brutal pace aiming for your gspot hitting it with pinpoint accuracy. You shook your head screaming out uncontrollably bucking begging for him to go harder, faster just wanting more. It wasn't long befor you saw stars letting out a silent scream tensing before you snapped cumming around him almost blinded as he rode you through it still hitting your spot faster if that was even possible before stuttering his hips holding himself tight locking you both together as he flooded you.

"OH GOD fuck FUCK yesyesyes good girl yes fuck" he moaned as you lay beneath him, limp body still quacking in the aftermath of your own end. He stayed still until he was soft catching his breath recovering before you removing himself he sat back on his knees watching as he leaked from you quick to scoop his cum and press it back within you, you whined still painfully oversensitive trying to pull away from his invading fingers. he chuckled as you squirmed utterly spent.

"nooo bruce" you whined as he prodded your freshly fucked pussy lighly grazing your abused clit causing you to whine at him pitifully jolting with every swipe.

"Aww baby are you sore?" you pouted at his words nodding he got up sitting you up handing you your forgotton drink you took it gulping it down ignoring the burn. he retrived his boxers throwing them on then a soft blanket covering you before scooping you up heading for the door.

"Bruce? what are you doing?" you asked gorgily already struggiljng to stay awake he leant down shutting you up with a kiss.

"We are going to bed you need some sleep before we continue." you blinked

"wha?" he grinned cheekily

"well how are we going to build up your stamina if we dont push past your exhaustion?" you almost cried just wanting to sleep.

"What about Alfred dinner?" you questioned

"He didnt make any I had to have a reason to get you here didnt I? he went to bed. and dont worry about Jack he is staying over in a room next to Damien's" you looked at him shocked

"What why was he here? do you think he could have heard me? bruce!" you panicked suddenly fully awake trying to wiggle out of his grip he laughed kissing your face.

"Oh my god what about our clothes? Bruce go back and shit we made a mess i need to clean that up..Bruce are you listening?" You created as he continued further away from the room youd just soild.

"he didnt hear you at all it was one of his demands when we planned this. And dont worry about the room or the clothes alfred will take care of it" he said scaling the stairs with ease taking you to his room

"planned? you who else knew? And what do you mean alfred will take care of it? no absolutly not that is embarassing" you argued as he kicked the door to his room shut behind him depositing you on his bed following you down landing above you kissing you again.

"me alfred damien and jack planned it but dick and jason knew too thats why they are scarce and alfred has cleard up worse trust me." he explained you stared at him in horror

"My little brother set me up with you?oh my god I'm not going to live that down and i need to clear that up its to embarassing for alfred to see" you cried he laughed out loud.

"Well I think its was worth it, and you can try and beat Alfred to it but that room will be ccleared up before sunrise and you won't be leaving this bed before then" he said snuggling up with you under the cover ,you made a noise as he tucked you into his chest his heart beat calming you making you drift into a peaceful sleep resting on his chest, feeling safe and sound wrapped up in him as he traced patterns on your back, sighing he was finally content a peace he hadnt known befor washed over him satisfied that he had found the woman that would complete his family, his chest swelled as he placed a kiss on your head. He wasn't ever letting you go now that he had you here. Glancing over at the clock, hed give you an hour or so to build up some energy before he woke you smirkjng to himslef planing all the wicked ways he was going to toy with you during the night. Oh yes the night was young and if Bruce had his way you wouldnt be leaving his bed tomorrow because you wouldnt be able to, thankfully you hade a few days off so he might let you recover. Then again he might not.

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayned fic #bruce wayne x reader #batmom imagines #batman x y/n #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #dc x y/n #dc x reader

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

Thoughts (if any) on DC's April 2021 solicitations?

Let’s take ‘em in order! I should be able to muster up a comment on just about everything one way or another.

Green Lantern #1: Oh this is gonna be bad. Heard only the worst about Thorne’s Future State: Green Lantern, and I assume Jo Mullein’s DCU debut will be wasted here to either function as some kind of ridiculous ‘popularity contest’ with Teen Lantern for who gets the bigger push, or as a way to put TL over with a few “good work kid, you got a future” comments. Also, and granted I don’t know how Morrison will end or this will begin, is the New Guardians angle being immediately dropped?

Robin #1: Dope suit, art, and premise, but it’s Williamson so I don’t care.

Batman: The Dark Knight #1: I’ll read this and I expect to like it, but between this being Kubert’s first big Batman project since Master Race, the ‘old but not quite retirement age yet’ angle, and the title, I’m concerned the shock ending here is that it’s actually a stealth DKR prequel.

The Next Batman: Second Son #1: So they really are committing here, though weird that this kinda makes Ridley’s Future State book basically a longform teaser for this. And I’ll get it as it comes out since it turns out this won’t be in that John Ridley’s Batman collection after all - sorry Dustin Nguyen, I love your stuff but I won’t buy an entire trade of material I otherwise already own just for one new story by you.

The Batman & Scooby Doo Mysteries #1: I got that whole great-looking Scooby Doo Team-Up run by Fisch for free on Comixology, I should read that sometime and see if this’ll be worth getting too as well, because it sounds like a hoot.

Challenge of the Super Sons #1: Glad people who want it are getting it, I do not care.

RWBY/Justice League #1: WILL BE GETTING A POST ALL ITS OWN

Action Comics #1030: His powers waning definitely won’t help the standard pre-run fuming by a lot of Superman fandom, but it’s an interesting pairing with PKJ apparently doing mainly cosmic Superman adventures so I’m curious where he’ll go with it. That it’s particularly cited as being tied to Death Metal might validate my suspicion that the new ‘everyone remembers their entire mainstream publishing histories’ thing will play into Johnson’s description of Clark really feeling his age at the start of the run. And Janin on covers even before he gets in on the book proper! And that Midnighter description!

Superman #30: This sounds like where Johnson’s gonna start with that worldbuilding he touted, and I’m curious; definitely reads in this instance like him shoving Clark and Jon into some swords-and-sorcery-esque territory he’s familiar with.

American Vampire 1976 #7: Not reading, don’t care.

Batman #107: I assume ‘the events at Arkham Asylum’ are the ‘A-Day’ ominously brought up in Future State solicits. Tynion Batman, Jimenez as the regular artist now, whatever the Unsanity Collective is, all entirely my shit. More importantly than any of that though, GHOSTMAKER BACKUPS. And drawn by Ricardo Lopez Ortiz, artist on Steve Orlando’s excellent The Pull! Dope!

Batman: Black & White #5: Any other issue and ‘Jamal Campbell doing a life story of Nightwing’ would probably be the highlight, but in case you somehow hadn’t heard Gillen/McKelvie are making their DC debut on a Batman vs. Riddler story here, absolutely wild.

Batman: Urban Legends #2: Even more excited for this now that I’m onboard for the Grifter and Outsiders stuff given how much those features pleasantly surprised me in Future State.

Batman/Superman #17: Injecting it isn’t enough anymore, I need to be on some kind of constant IV drip with this book. I was wondering whether it’d take the premise to further generational riffs or follow a history of mass-media Supermen and Batmen, but instead it’s veering off in a direction I never could have guessed and I couldn’t be more excited.

Batman vs. Ra’s Al Ghul #6: NOTHING CAN STOP THE ADAMSVERSE. NONE MAY DARE TRY.

Batman/Catwoman #5: Wondering how this Harley involvement plays in - I don’t imagine it’s quite what it seems given how King’s written her before. And love that Joker by Mann on the cover, major Clown at Midnight vibes.

Catwoman #30: No reason to assume this run won’t continue to rule.

Crime Syndicate #2: Dammit, I don’t think this book is going to be good, but I’m kinda tempted.

Detective Comics #1035: Wouldn’t be psyched, but Dark Detective was another pleasant surprise so I’ll give this a chance.

The Dreaming: Waking Hours #9: Again, not reading.

Far Sector #11: Sucks a little knowing we’ll never see that little ‘Young Animal’ label in the corner again after this wraps. At least it’s going out on its highest note.

The Flash #769: In a vacuum this would sound dope but I have less than no faith in this, and goddamn that’s a terrible cover.

Harley Quinn #2: I’m sure it’ll be fine, no interest.

The Joker #2: I wanna believe Tynion will be able to make this work, he keeps talking like he has more freedom on this than he has some other books, but everything about this reads like the price he has to pay for relative post-Joker War freedom on Batman.

Justice League #60: It’s Bendis/Marquez on Justice League, lots of people will complain but I’ll mostly dig it. More interested in Ram V briefly getting to write the main crew in the JLD backup.

Man-Bat #3: I’d ask why this exists - and as a matter of fact I still do - but checking out some of DC’s digital-first output recently I see Dave Wielgosz has something on the ball, so maybe he’ll be able to make this work? Perhaps I’ll check it out in trade someday if worth-of-mouth is on its side.

Nightwing #79: I maintain, this is gonna be huge. And clever move to make for how to justify Nightwing keeping up his standard way of business after Bruce loses most of his money.

Rorschach #7: A comic I will purchase and let’s continue leaving it at that.

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? #109: DC’s highest-numbered comic (that hasn’t gone through an interim renumbering), astonishing. Not getting it myself, but respect.

Sensational Wonder Woman #2: Can’t say this sounds like my thing.

Suicide Squad #2: I’ve been swayed into checking out the Future State debut, but that’d have to really blow me away for me to follow into the main book.

Superman: Red & Blue #2: Sadly if unsurprisingly DC’s clearly not stacking this with AAA attention-grabbing names in the same way as this latest version of Batman: Black & White, but there do seem to be some interesting names from outside the usual big two roster here. And the main and Bolland cover may disappoint but holy cow that David Choe variant.

The Swamp Thing #2: I have no doubt it’ll be incredible but time and again I learn I simply don’t have it in me to care about Swamp Thing regardless of the objective quality of the effort put into him.

Sweet Tooth: The Return #6: Another one I’m not interested in.

Titans Academy #2: Oh lord so this is where they stuck Billy Batson.

Truth & Justice #3: I continue to have no idea what if anything the unifying idea of this anthology is supposed to be.

Wonder Woman #771: Wonder Woman as troubleshooter for mythological mishaps isn’t a permanently sustainable or desirable status quo but I’m down for it for as long as it lasts if it’s any good (though that Immortal Wonder Woman preview...concerned me, in spite of Jen Bartel’s jaw-dropping art).

So that’s 19-23 out of 37 I’ll be getting - if DC’s standard for success with Infinite Frontier is the proportion of their line people will be checking out, I guess it’s winning with me.

#DC Comics #DC: Infinite Frontier #Opinion

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 3 years

Text

Ships and Shells (Pt.2)

-------------------------

Virgil was already aware he wasnt the best tracker of time, but this was getting ridiculous. How long had he been trapped here? Two? Maybe three weeks? Was it more? Was it less? He couldnt tell, all he could count on to tell time was the appearance of Roman with trays of food at exactly six in the morning, noon, and six at night.

"So I take it we're still not close to land hm?" Virgil growled as he heard footsteps yet again.

But then he realized, these were different, these were heavier.

"Ah, Mr. Duke." Virgil said with a smirk and a snarl.

"Now your highness I know you dont like me but downgrading my title so harshly? Have you no heart?"Remus said, faking hurt.

"Nope, not one," Virgil responded, which, oddly enough, earned him a laugh from Remus' end.

"Aaawwweee, you poor thing, it must be so hard to breathe," Remus purred, Virgil rolled his eyes.

"What do you want." Virgil said lowly.

"We're almost to the next town, so we need to establish some rules," at this, Virgil straightened up slightly, this could be it, his chance at escape.

"There will be guards on all exit points, and no other ropes will be far enough down to reach, so dont plan anything stupid," Remus said, Virgil smirked slightly, pitiful, he thinks ropes being a little high up is going to stop me he thought.

"You will only be allowed in the main part of the ship, not the cabins, those are reserved for crew members," Remus continued, that was probably a given, but Virgil would find a way to break that rule to.

"And finally, Don't. Touch. Anything." This last rule was said with such aggressiveness that it nearly caused a shiver down Virgil's spine, he felt mildly betrayed by that.

"Is this understood?" Remus said coolly, Virgil merely nodded in response.

"I meant for you to respond verbally, your highness," Remus said.

"Understood." Virgil said, slowly regaining his composure.

"But, I do have one question," Virgil said, turning slowly.

"And that is?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"If I cant touch anything," Virgil wrapped his hands around the bars of his cell, "then I've broken rule three every day since ive been here," Virgil smirked.

Remus stared at him for a few moments, dumbstruck, or at least, Virgil hoped he was.

"I meant, dont touch any items outside of your cell, floor and walls are fine, but no papers, books, ropes, wheels, candles, none of it," Remus said. Virgil ran the phrase over and over again in his head to try and find some type of loophole, but when none presented itself, he went quiet. He watched as Remus produced a key from his pocket and began working the lock on Virgil's cell.

Virgil rushed out nearly immediately after the gate swung open, half expecting Remus to grab him and shove him back. But no such moment came, soon he was out in the open air, the scent of salt water enveloping him, the feel of the breeze on his skin was almost comforting now.

"Keep him alive, please." Remus stated to the guards. Virgil watched as he, Roman, and Janus, jumped off the boat, each dragging something behind them.

And then Virgil was left with two guards on each side of the boat, standing beside the openings that would allow for Virgil to rush off onto the mainland. But he'd worry about that later, the twins and the snake were still all to close for him to run for it now, so it was unsafe for him to attempt anything just yet.

So he waited.

And waited.

For what seemed like years, he waited.

And finally, he noticed a slip up, and once he did, it was showtime. He knocked the closest desk over and waited for the guards to attempt to restrain him, only to sneak under their arms and rush out through the now open exit.

He landed with a thud on the harbor, and ran into the town as fast as his legs could carry him. He ignored the shouts from his captors, ignored the staring, ignored everything that was keeping him trapped in that ship.

The buildings in this town were a lot smaller, and there was no wall around the outside. The docks were lined with shops, jewelry and clothing and all sorts of other things hung from booths and lay on counters. It was then that Virgil realized, he didnt have money. Lucky for him, most of the people in the crowd were nearly a foot taller than him, which made it much easier to snag a cloak and an apple from the booths on which they lay.

This was alright for a while, until he ran into other people. Though in this case, the couple seemed far to focused on each other to even realize he was there, until the shorter man, dressed in light blues, with a grey scarf and cap on his head, broke away from his partner and turned in Virgil's direction.

"Oh dear- my apologies- didnt see you there-" said the shorter of the two.

"That's the idea," Virgil said quietly, this earned a worried expression from the first boy, the second, dressed in a blue long sleeved shirt with a black bandana around his neck, merely seemed intrigued.

"Are you hiding from someone? Is everything alright?" The first man stepped forward a little, cautiously.

"Oh yeah it's great, been stuck in a pirate ship cell for like two weeks with nothing to go off of but cryptic messages but its fine!" Virgil exclaimed with a sigh, barely caring about the fact that he didnt even know these people.

"Oh dear- that must've been awful," said the first boy.

"You'll have to excuse him, hes never actually interacted with pirates before," said the second boy, fixing his glasses.

"And you have?" Virgil said, looking him up and down.

The boy quirked his mouth slightly, into a sort of half-smirk that he couldnt quite finish.

"Former Lord Admiral Logan Sanders, at your service," Logan said, bowing slightly. Virgil's eyes widened slightly, he pulled the cloak further over himself. If Logan had been in charge of ships at one point, he likely knew about Virgil, and he had no plans to go back to the castle either.

"Nice to meet you," Virgil replied.

"And this is my fiance, Patton Boleyn," Logan said, gesturing to Patton, who gave Virgil a wave and a nod.

"Nyx," Virgil said plainly, though the word felt like bile as he tossed it out, it was the safest thing he had for now, but he certainly didnt want it.

"Oh have I been getting it wrong then? I couldve sworn the queen called out for a Virgil when we brought you on the ship," Virgil froze as he heard Remus' voice, and then he ran. He didnt care where he was going or how long it took to get there, but he wasnt staying on that ship, nor in that castle. He could hear footsteps racing after him, the sound swinging and wind blowing through the air.

And then again, cold metal pressed against flesh.

And then he woke up back where he'd started, a cell with wet wooden planks and a falsely comfortable looking bed.

Only this time he wasnt alone, this time he heard crying, and yells, fury like he'd never heard before.

"Oh quit whining, we're not going to hurt any of you, but we cant have you running off to tattle on us, now be a good prisoner and shut it," Virgil snarled as he heard Remus' voice, he was beginning to hate it, hate every joke that fell from his lips, hate the way he twirled that stupid mustache of his when they talked, all the flirting and the compliments, it was like the captain thought he was to foolish to see what was really going on!

"Ah! Our perfect prince has awoken from his slumber, now tell me Virgie, did you really think it would be that easy to escape?" Remus said, leaning on his morningstar and flashing a grin.

Virgil was about to open his mouth so he could tell Remus where to stuff it, when suddenly, he began to feel sick. Not just a fleeting sickness, either, no, this was like someone had set his insides on fire. He held back the screams for a few seconds, and was surprised to find a worried expression make it's way up Remus' face when he let loose.

"JANUS! MEDIC!" Remus turned and rushed out of the cell room.

Virgil couldn't tell what happened next, because one second, he was curled in a corner and clutching his sides from pain worse than anything he'd ever experienced before, and the next, everything was swirling away into a deep blue and black, almost like a dream.

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@thefivecalls

@willowaudreykeyes

@pricklyfish777

@the-sad-strawberry

@itsnithbabey

@private-snippers

@extercs-experiences

@rich-flower-17

@theonetruebeepboop

@mycatshuman

@teamplutoforlife

@melodiread

@meowthefluffy

@frawkeye

@cemmy

@nerosdayinhell

@thecolorfulolive

@frog-candy-bee

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namjoonknee · 4 years

Text

It had been mere months since their final confrontation with Chuck, but in that time, everything had seemingly wound down. There was a finality about it, a change in the wind, that they had all felt. In the months since, for example, Castiel had been assigned the role of designated driver more and more, as Dean had given up any pretence of pride, allowing himself to be lolled to sleep sitting in shotgun. When he did take Baby out for a drive, Dean started singing again, wild and obnoxious and carefree. All the tension assuaged away, shoulders dropped, and pace slowed and most importantly, Castiel had seen far more smiles from the man in the past year than he had in the many years prior.

This was something else though. Castiel was acutely aware of the childhood that Dean had experienced, or lack thereof. It was safe to assume, then, that the idea of a birthday celebration let alone acknowledgement, must have been as obviously absent in Dean’s life as his father had been. Which is why, when Jack had brought the idea to him and Sam, they immediately assented. If there were any people who so desperately deserved recognition and honouring, it was the Winchester brothers.

Despite Dean insisting loudly and frequently that he didn’t want his birthday to be a ‘big deal’, his eager reception to any birthday related events violently indicated the contrary. Much of Dean was like this, and it seemed that everyone in his life was well aware of the façade, so it usually worked out fine. it had only a few months for Castiel to understand this about the man after all.

On the morning of the 24th of January Castiel had found Dean arisen early, sitting in the kitchen and smiling at his phone, aftereffects of facetiming Garth and the Fitzgerald IV’s. Jody had popped in later that morning, and whilst she could only stay for an hour, having a sheriff conference to attend, it was obvious that the effort was not lost on Dean. His giddiness was also particularly apparent when he received calls from both Krissy and Claire. None of the ‘old-man’ insults thrown his way weren’t contested at all, as Dean was apparently too wrapped up in his astonishment that they had even remembered his birthday.

His cheerful disposition persisted throughout the day, and Castiel soaked it up. Staring intently at Dean (more so than usual), Castiel tried to commit his smiles to memory, persisting even when Dean had laughingly told him to ‘quit it dude, you’re freaking me out’.

This was something that Castiel hadn’t even thought to pray for, most of that was spent on just making sure the man was breathing, safe and for once not in mortal peril. Seeing Dean beam was a sucker punch to Castiel’s heart. He had been in love with Dean for so long but seeing him this happy was overwhelming. Castiel had no doubt that he had fallen, he couldn’t imagine being able to deal with the extent of his feelings a hundred years ago, let alone a millennium. He really wouldn’t have known what to do with himself. Honestly, Castiel was having a hard time keeping it together, as it were. Being an angel of the lord for longer than the existence of the Earth gave him good practise though. So, if Castiel was completely overcome with adoration, no one was the wiser.

In any case, the birthday festivities had gone wonderfully. Most of the appropriate customs had been observed, at least in Winchester fashion, which meant the substitution of cake with pie and singing with Dean’s threat that ‘if anyone so much as starts singing you won’t get any pie, got it’.

The roast dinner Jody had brought over in the morning, warmed from the oven, was sprawled out on the map room table and passed around amongst the group. Jack had bought Dean a cowboy hat keychain, which he promptly added to Baby’s keys, after pulling a delighted Jack in for a hug and ruffling his hair. Sam got the same treatment, expressing much less appreciation for it, when he slid Kurt Vonnegut’s Palm Sunday across the table towards Dean. Minutes later Dean was barking a laugh and professed his love for Eileen as he swept her up. She had produced a smuggled bottle of Midleton Very Rare, which they wasted no time pouring it out and pairing with Castiel’s cherry pie, the best pie in the country he had found. His week-long pilgrimage had been under the guise of ‘angel crap’. Thankfully, the mission was aided by his recent reacquisition of his grace, but it would have been worth it regardless, Castiel thought, as watching Dean scarf it down. When Dean emerged with whipped cream on the tip of his nose Castiel feel like it might have actually been his birthday instead.

Presently, they had just finished watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the third in the marathon of cowboy movies that Dean had prepared, seemingly oblivious to the pointed albeit good natured eye roll from Sam and the bemused glances shared between Jack, Eileen and himself.

“Alright, I think I’m going to head in” Sam yawned and rose slowly.

Eileen followed suit, signing “Hope you enjoyed your birthday” to Dean who smiled softly at her and signed “thank you” back.

Castiel turned to regard the boy pressed to his side, but the steadily rise and fall of Jack’s chest and a trail of drool on the arm rest answered his question. Castiel reached over to tap Dean’s shoulder and jerked his head towards the sleeping boy. “I’ll take him up to his room” he spoke in a low voice, “when I come back, we can watch Tombstone if you’d like.”

Surely, I can count on him not being tired yet, Castiel thought, his entire plan had depended on it, on them being alone. He had waited weeks for Dean’s birthday to arrive, the timing was finally right, and Castiel had to make his move now.

Dean grinned broadly, “I’ll set it up.”

Castiel gathered Jack up and carried his son in-all-but-blood to his room. After tucking him in, Castiel made a pitstop in his own room. Reaching into his bedside drawer, Castiel retrieved the object that he’d been mulling over for weeks on end. The package was small and neatly wrapped in glossy paper. Castiel turned it over, weighing it in his palms. He had been restless for so long and yet, Castiel suddenly found himself unable to move. This is ridiculous, he thought, I am one of heaven’s fiercest warriors, I’ve averted apocalypses, faced gods and monsters alike and triumphed, I should not be scared of giving my friend a gift for his birthday. Taking a deep breath, Castiel made an attempt at summoning courage.

“Hey Cas, did you change your mind about Tombstone? I mean I know it’s not your favourite, but I’m telling you it’s not just guns and tuberculosis-”

“Dean!” Castiel jumped in alarm and juggled the present in his arms, in attempt to prevent the imminent destruction of his hopes and dreams. Composing himself, he turned to face his friend, who was stood in the open doorway.

“Hey buddy” Dean said slowly, taking in the scene with an amused smirk, “whatcha got there?”

It took a moment for Castiel’s thoughts to catch up with him and he realised, flushing, that there was nothing subtle about the way he had reacted and was continuing to react, his arms having forced themselves behind his back. Yeah, definitely the picture of an innocent man. Castiel scolded himself for his childishness, brought his hands back to his sides and sat himself down on the edge of his bed.

Dean planted himself down next to Castiel and looked at him expectantly. “Here” Castiel said, not trusting himself to speak he thrust the package into Dean’s hands, hoping, no, praying that Dean would understand.

Castiel stared at the package in Dean’s hands and watched as Dean examined it. In his periphery he saw Dean stare back up at him in apparent curiosity. Okay, that’s fine, Castiel thought, this is absolutely fine. Upon realising that Castiel was not prepared to give him either a reaction or explanation, Dean returned his attention to the gift and began unwrapping it. Dean pried it open deftly but carefully ensuring that the packaging was not ripped. After what seemed to Castiel as an eternity, Dean unveiled the gift and Cas raised his face in time to watch the widening of Dean’s eyes and realisation dawning across his own face.

“Cas’ Top 13 Zepp Traxx” Dean read faintly and matched his gaze.

“It’s a sequel,” Castiel started, looking back down at his palms, “of sorts. The mixtape you gave me was so thoughtful, Dean. And so, I just-” he was cut off by a pair of strong arms pulling him in. Castiel let go of the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and folded his arms around Dean, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder.

“Thanks Cas” Dean whispered.

“Happy Birthday Dean.”

.........................

There’s more to this story x

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #spn #supernatural #post season 15 #it's shane #the mixtape

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Justice League #1 (1987)

This is actually a more impressive line-up than I remember.

I'm pretty sure this line-up is a huge scam. I don't remember Doctor Fate interacting too much with this group and I think Shazam bows out fairly quickly. Batman probably does that thing where he acts like he's leader (even if Martian Manhunter actually is) and only helps out every sixth mission. So at that point, the line-up is already decreasing in strength and intimidation factor quickly. Adding Fire, Ice, and Booster Gold later won't really improve the team much. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My impressions from this initial cover were "Wow! Pretty interesting team!" and "What asshole fucking decided on the shit stencil font for the title?" Sorry, I cuss a lot when I'm writing on the Internet and trying to seem like a bad-ass. The issue begins with Guy Gardner calling the other Green Lanterns jerks and suggesting, to himself, that he should be the Commander-in-Chief of the new Justice League. Some people would read this first page and think, "What an arrogant fucking asshole." But my stomach got all queasy and I giggled a little bit and I muttered quietly under my breath, "I love him."

I'm not saying it isn't composed of some truly ridiculous aspects but Guy still has the best costume in the DC Universe.

I don't love everything about Guy Gardner because most writers at the time didn't truly understand him. They made him a jerk that nobody would like because they were too cold-hearted to see the brain damaged cool guy that he really was. Guy Gardner often needed to be written by somebody who loved the character; it would have done him a world of good. He could still have been that abrasive jerk. But written deftly, those who actually cared to take the time would see his true self. Sure, that would also be an abrasive jerk! But a little bit more likable!

Stallone was pretty sensitive in a few scenes in Rocky IV!

Black Canary is second to arrive, after which Mister Miracle and Oberon show up. I never quite understood how Oberon fit into the Justice League. Wasn't he like an agent or a manager? Did Batman and Martian Manhunter need Oberon to sign off on every mission or else Scott Free would have to remain behind? I bet he was included just so Giffen and DeMatteis could make dwarf jokes.

Why would Guy choose Sneezy?! Oberon's breathing has been impeccable since he arrived!

Normally after some kind of cynical prediction about the comic book that immediately is proved true, I'd write, "Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!" But it doesn't feel right to say it in this case. I mean, Oberon is present for four panels before he becomes the butt of a joke based on his diminutive nature. And by Guy Gardner, no less! Is this why I loved him so much at sixteen?! What a terrible and typical sixteen year old white heterosexual male I was! Black Canary (whose costume I'm just now noticing is really fucking weird) responds to Guy's awful behavior by saying, "Dozens of GLs around and we get 'Rambo' with a ring!" That's unfair to Rambo! I'm also unsure who in this story (including the writers of this story) have actually seen First Blood. Gardner is more like the authority mad Sheriff Teasle than the sensitive green beret John Rambo! Rambo should be admired as a hero, battling back against corrupt cops who think they have the right to use as much force as they want for any stupid fucking reason! It's possible they were talking about the Rambo from the second film who gets to kill more than one person because the people he's killing are Russians and Vietnamese. He does get a bit murder crazy in the second film. Or maybe they're talking about Rambo from the third film which wasn't actually out yet so I don't have to read up on it. Next to arrive are Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and Martian Manhunter. Martian Manhunter proves to be a buzzkill, reminding everybody how the old series ended in total death and disaster.

His view of the media is pretty spot on though.

J'onn calls up the files of Steel, Gypsy, Vixen, and Vibe before purging them completely from the Justice League computer. That's probably a good idea, like deleting old joke tweets on Twitter that were a bit racist and also boring. Meanwhile Maxwell Lord IV watches from a distance, doing that Ozymandias thing where you watch dozens of televisions at once. I think it proves you're a genius whose done the research and contemplated all sides of an issue before making up your totally rational and logical mind about any issue. As opposed to us losers who simply use compassion and empathy to almost immediately understand the correct and most ethical path to take. Maxwell Lord IV watches all of this television and decides the correct course to take is to leave the "America" off of the Justice League of America this time. Oh, and also the "of".

Maybe this is why I liked Guy so much: because he knew the saying was "you've got another think coming." Look, I'm going to be desperately finding good reasons to have liked Guy Gardner so much when Giffen and DeMatteis are this determined to make him a huge and unlikable jerk.

Look, I was sixteen! Hardly the best time in a young man's life for qualities like compassion and empathy and fashion sense and hair styles! I'm also fairly certain it wasn't this comic book that made me like him so much. I'm pretty sure he gets knocked out by Batman with one punch before the year is over and I remember loving that scene. So I probably despised him like a good reader of Justice League was supposed to do. Hopefully he'll have some character moments during this series that will show why I wound up liking him so much as a character. Right now, he's just a complete and utter asshole. The five panels following the one I just scanned consist of Guy once again calling Oberon "Sneezy" and then suggesting Black Canary is going to want to fuck him soon enough. Martian Manhunter tries to break it up and just winds up part of the chaos.

Okay, I'm starting to get why I might have liked him at sixteen, even after the first few pages. To a sixteen year old white male, mocking Martian Manhunter with a "Ho-ho-ho" trumps ableism, sexism, and, with this attack on J'onn for his inherent physical Martianness, almost certainly racism as well.

Guy continues to play the role of Squeaky Wheel for another page or two. I suppose if you want more on-panel time than the other heroes, you've got to be a raging asshole. I can't say I'm not entertained by it!

Captain Marvel earns a little of my love with this line as well. No shame in drinking warm milk at night!

This is only nine pages into the first issue and Guy has completely derailed the formation of the new Justice League. Was this blasphemy to previous fans of the Justice League where the team may have had some minor squabbles about various things and Batman would quit every six issues but mostly they didn't break out into brawls whenever they got together? Or were internal struggles and arguments a regular plot point? I have no idea because the only Justice League comics I read previous to this title were the terrible months where everything was breaking down and then Steel betrayed them and Vibe was killed off and Martian Manhunter felt like a huge failure. Although was Aquaman leading the team at the time? I dislike Aquaman so much, I'm just going to believe he was leading the team and that's why everything completely fell apart. He sucks. Once per day, I think about that lousy meme trying to prove Aquaman wasn't useless by using the image from New 52 Justice League where he controls a bunch of great whites to breach and kill a bunch of parademons and I hate everybody who actually thought that was a cool moment. Batman and Doctor Fate arrive in the middle of the Justice League brawl (which even Martian Manhunter, the only adult in the room, is taken part in) and shuts shit down The Batman way.

I guess heroes are also a cowardly lot.

Meanwhile, Doctor Light winds up being held hostage with the rest of the United Nations by some white terrorists. I felt I needed to say they were white because a lot of racist assholes can only envision terrorists one way. Also, I should always describe people as white when they're white since I don't want to be an accomplice to maintaining a world where we assume a person mentioned is white, male, and heterosexual unless they're described more fully. Doctor Light was given a Justice League emergency beeper by a mysterious figure some time previously. This isn't revealed but I just read Justice League Spectacular #1 so I know Maxwell Lord gave her the device so that she could alert the Justice League when the United Nations was taken hostage by terrorists that Maxwell Lord IV paid. It's all about getting some early press! There's an advert for the new Flash which I'm surprised I didn't pick up since the advert shows him having some kind of accident in a sperm bank.

Ew Flash is right!

The Justice League head over to stop the terrorist attack. At some point, Doctor Fate disappears to go do something else and I think he never comes back? Is that why I barely remember him as a part of this league? Was he just there to look cool on the cover and fool all the lovers of DC magic users? The League storms the UN, murdering several terrorists.

Look. Manhunter either phased their heads into the solid ceiling or he smashed their skulls straight through the roof. Either way, I don't see a high percentage chance of their survival.

The Justice League capture all the terrorists and then Batman has the building evacuated, leaving just the leader of the terrorists alone in the United Nations building threatening to kill himself so that the bomb attached to his heart would detonate and kill them all. He does kill himself but the bomb doesn't detonate. And the thing is, Batman realized during the mission that the bomb was almost certainly a bluff. So he left the man alone to kill himself. Later we discover the man had a history of mental illness. So this, to Batman, is justice? Batman almost certainly realized the man was being manipulated and that he'd definitely kill himself to blow the bomb and Batman let the man do it. Batman is a fucking monster. After the event, the media points out that the terrorists were mostly composed of 60s radical groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers. Which is odd because there wasn't one black terrorist in the bunch. The issue ends with Max Lord talking to himself and admitting to being the one who staged the terrorist attack. He also knew the leader was unstable enough to kill himself for the cause and he sent him in with a bomb that definitely wouldn't blow. So he's a fucking monster as well. And Martian Manhunter is a monster, not because he's a weirdo martian, but because he basically popped the heads on a few of the terrorists. No way will I believe those guys hanging from the ceiling by their necks survived! All in all, Guy Gardner is starting to look like a rational member of this group! Justice League #1 Rating: B+. A better than average start to the new Justice League, building some intrigue and conflict right from the start. Who is Max Lord? What are his plans for the Justice League? Why is he acting like it's his group? Will Doctor Fate ever return? Will Oberon poison Guy Gardner? Will Black Canary and Doctor Light become best friends because they're the only women in the League? Will Guy Gardner and Batman ever come to blows? I can answer that! They will not! They'll just come to blow. One punch by Batman. And that one punch causes some severe psychological trauma to Gardner and nobody thinks he should get medical help simply because he starts acting nicer. They're all fucking monsters!

#Justice League #Kevin Maguire #Keith Giffen #J.M. DeMatteis #Terry Austin

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spikemelikeavolleyball · 4 years

Text

ii : rules ( part one ) ( high low )

high low ; miya atsumu x fem! reader

i. ii. iii. iv. v. [masterlist.]

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

[name] [surname] was off limits--

except miya atsumu finds himself

flirting with danger and becoming

rapidly addicted to the sparks between

them.

what osamu doesn’t know won’t

kill him. will it?

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

tags; mafia au, sexual content,

violence, strong language, blood,

gore.

this chapter: a time skip of about

four months, alcohol, mentions of

domestic abuse, strong language,

guns, a POV switch.

note: i decided to do the twins’ accent

how the southern us does; sometimes

they talk properly and without it, but

when they’re excited or angry, it flips

a switch.

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

two ; rules ( part one )

Miya Osamu had four rules that--at any given time--you had to follow as if your life depended on it. And sometimes, with the people he was around, or the people who visited him, it usually was. He had never given you a real reason why you should follow these rules, or why you were such a high risk case that you actually needed rules, but you knew he had a gun under his pillow, under the couch cushions, hidden in a drawer in the kitchen, even one in the bathroom.

He had pointed them out to you with a flat expression, that night he had taken you to his apartment after Akaashi and Kou had cleared you, and you weren’t able to argue or even ask why he was showing them to you. He had given you a very crude crash course in how to load and shoot it, but had forced you into bed right after, shoving you between him and his bedroom wall.

You didn’t ask what that was about, either.

The rules had been written down on a piece of paper that Osamu had ripped out of the back of a book. His handwriting was neat and printed, or as neat as it could be when he was writing it down like a man in a frenzy, and spelled out for numbers with four rules.

In your head, they sounded simple. Easy, even.

One: Don’t go out alone.

Easy, you thought, reciting the rule to him with a cracked voice.

Two: Keep a weapon on you at all times.

A switchblade was easy to hide, you had quipped jokingly, but he seemed to have taken you seriously.

Three: Always be aware of your surroundings,

You almost felt like he was drilling you in secret service rules. You even told him as much. He ignored you and shoved a plate of tuna onigiri in front of you.

His final, and most important rule, was what had left you stumped. Even four months later, you couldn’t understand why he was so adamant that you follow that rule down to the letter, even going as far as to warn you if you were at risk of breaking it.

Four: Never, ever let Miya Atsumu know you existed.

“A magazine spread is fine,” Osamu told you after you had gotten comfortable with your back against the wall, clutching his ridiculous onigiri plushie against your chest to hide the bruises on your collarbone. “But you can’t meet him in person. Please, [Name].”

“Okay,” you had promised. Your eyes were so heavy that you would have agreed to anything he had asked if you could just go to sleep. “I promise, ‘Samu.”

“Good.”

Now, as you sat at Osamu’s kitchen island, fork frozen halfway to your mouth and with arms that clearly weren’t Osamu’s wrapped around your waist, watching tattoo adorned fingers dance with the fabric of your shirt, you knew you had already broken that rule and it wasn’t even your fault.

It was Osamu’s.

🇾🇪🇸🇹🇪🇷🇩🇦🇾…

“Congratulations.” Ushijima, Akana graced you with a wide smile as she closed the plastic binder on her desk, hiding the glossy full frontals from your wide eyes. Your name, printed neatly on the cover, was as foreboding as it was a blessing. “You’ve made it, [Name]. You’re now the official face of Wisteria’s lingerie line.”

“This is crazy,” you blurted, much to the older woman’s immense amusement. Four months ago, you wouldn’t have expected you would be here, much less as a model. “I mean, not that I’m not thankful for the opportunity, Ushijima-san, but--”

“You weren’t expecting it,” she finished, her red lipstick a dagger against the harsh white paint of her office walls. Akana nodded in understanding. “That’s alright. I know you weren’t. That’s why I chose you, out of all the other girls--for your humbleness. It helps that Wakatoshi likes working with you.”

Your face flushed red at the mention of the woman’s son. While Ushijima Wakatoshi was a good friend of yours, he didn’t really like modeling for his mother unless it was for volleyball. It didn’t stop her from wheedling him into a couple of shots with you one evening in Rio, while he was free from his volleyball career for a few weeks, while you were wearing close to nothing but scraps of lace. That had been embarrassing. His words, however, hadn’t been.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” he had told you, hoisting you up onto his shoulder at his mother’s command. You had rested your hand on the opposite shoulder to keep your balance, Akana exclaiming that was the perfect pose and for you to be still. “I helped you train to get back into shape. You should be proud of it.”

Needless to say, the both of you had been plastered all over several different lingerie magazines and billboards, but it didn’t just stop there--the volleyball papers and fandoms were excited to have your face next to Ushijima’s too, and gushed about it for months afterwards. While it didn’t stop the fangirls from flooding your profile with jealousy ridden hate, his teammates loved to needle you for it endlessly, and tease Ushijima, although he didn’t really understand why it was so exciting that he was in another magazine.

“I just… After that whole scandal, I didn’t think I was even up for the position,” you admitted. Akana’s face softened, but only slightly.

“If it had escalated further, you might not have been,” she confessed, taking a sip of her coffee. “But that was then, and this is now. You have a couple of weeks of vacation before you have to fly to Paris for fashion week. I’d suggest you fly home to Japan, steal some moments with your friends, and take some time to relax.”

Your mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Akana smiled. “Although, Wakatoshi did profess an interest in having you watch one of his games. It was one of the more larger motivators for me giving you so much time off.”

“Ushijima knows I like watching his games,” you laughed, recalling his blunt question as to why you were at all of his games when you were usually at work. “I might not know much about it, but I enjoy the excitement and tension in the air.”

Akana smiled, then, this time wider. “Then you better get going. Your flight leaves at six tomorrow.”

By six the next morning, you were on your way to Japan--but not before having Miya Osamu call you an hour before your flight, sounding winded and like he had run a couple blocks.

“You’re coming home?” he questioned, tone full of surprise and shock. “Yer not pullin’ my leg?”

You giggled at his accent slip, tossing your copious amounts of luggage onto the conveyor belt. “No, ‘Samu, I’m not pulling your leg. I really get to come home, although I was wanting to keep it a surprise… Who told you?”

“Sayaka,” he said, as if that explained everything. And it did; after that night, it was like the two of them were best friends--best friends in having your back in everything you did, at least. Kuroo thought it was hilarious how they argued. “I’m glad ya get to come home.”

“Me too.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “So, how’s college going? You fell asleep before I could ask you last night.”

“It’s the same. Between opening the shop and studying for exams, I’ve been pretty busy.” He paused, then, and spoke to someone who was most likely standing beside him. “Yeah, yeah. Gotta go. Stay safe on yer flight.”

“Aye-aye captain,” you said, right before you were swarmed by paparazzi. You hung up your phone and sunk backwards behind your bodyguards, who held your purse and coat with them.

This was going to be a long, long flight.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#mafia au #reblog if you like it

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hellouniversegoodbyeworld · 3 years

Text

Martial, Epigrams. Book 1. Bohn's Classical Library (1897)

BOOK I.

TO THE READER

I trust that, in these little books of mine, I have observed such self-control, that whoever forms a fair judgment from his own' mind can make no complaint of them, since they indulge their sportive fancies without violating the respect due even to persons of the humblest station; a respect which was so far disregarded by the authors of antiquity, that they made free use, not only of real, but of great names. For me; let fame be held in less estimation, and let such talent be the last thing commended in me.

Let the ill-natured interpreter, too, keep himself from meddling with the simple meaning of my jests, and not write my epigrams for me.1 He acted honourably who exercises perverse ingenuity on another man's book: For the free plainness of expression, that is, for the language of epigram, I would apologize, if I were introducing the practice; but it is thus that Catullus writes, and Marsus, and Pedo, and Getulicus, and every one whose writings are read through. If any assumes to be so scrupulously nice, however, that it is not allowable to address him, in a single page, in plain language, he may confine himself to this address, or rather to the title of the book. Epigrams are written for those who are accustomed to be spectators at the games of Flora. Let not Cato enter my theatre; or, if he do enter, let him look on. It appears to me that I shall do only what I have a right to do, if I close my address with the following verses:----

1 Let him not make them his own, by the false interpretation which he puts upon them.

TO CATO.

Since you knew the lascivious nature of the rites of sportive Flora, as well as the dissoluteness of the games, and the license of the populace, why, stern Cato, did you enter the theatre? Did you come in only that you might go out again?

I. TO THE READER.

The man whom you are reading is the very man that you want,----Martial, known over the whole world for his humorous books of epigrams; to whom, studious reader, you have afforded such honours, while he is alive and has a sense of them, as few poets receive after their death.

II. TO THE READER; SHOWING WHERE THE AUTHOR'S BOOKS MAY BE PURCHASED.

You who are anxious that my books should be with you everywhere, and desire to have them as companions on a long journey, buy a copy of which the parchment leaves are compressed into a small compass.1 Bestow book-cases upon large volumes; one hand will hold me. But that you may not be ignorant where I am to be bought, and wander in uncertainty over the whole town, you shall, under my guidance, be sure of obtaining me. Seek Secundus, the freedman of the learned Lucensis, behind the Temple of Peace and the Forum of Pallas.

1 That is, a copy with small pages; a small copy.

III. THE AUTHOR TO HIS BOOK.

You prefer, little book, to dwell in the shops in the Argiletum,1 though my book-case has plenty of room for you. You are ignorant, alas! you are ignorant of the fastidiousness of Rome, the mistress of the world; the sons of Man, believe me, are much too critical. Nowhere are there louder sneers; young men and old, and even boys, have the nose of the rhinoceros.2 After you have heard a loud "Bravo!" and are expecting kisses, you will go, tossed to the skies, from the jerked toga.3 Yet, that you may not so often suffer the corrections of your master, and that his relentless pen may not so often mark your vagaries, you desire, frolicsome little book, to fly through the air of heaven. Go, fly; but you would have been safer at home.

1 An open place, or square, in Rome, where tradesmen had shops. 2 Have great powers of ridicule, which the Romans often expressed by turning up or wrinkling the nose. 3 People will take you into their lap, and then jerk you out of it, as if you were tossed in a blanket

IV. TO CAESAR.

If you should chance, Caesar, to light upon my books, lay aside that look which awes the world. Even your triumphs have been accustomed to endure jests,1 nor is it any shame to a general to be a subject for witticisms. Read my verses, I pray you, with that brow with which you behold Thymele 2 and Latinus 3 the buffoon. The censorship 4 may tolerate innocent jokes: my page indulges in freedoms, but my life is pure.

1 In allusion to the jests which the soldiers threw out on their generals while they were riding in the triumphal procession. 2 A female dancer. 3 A dancer in pantomime; a sort of harlequin. 4 Alluding to Domitian having made himself perpetual censor.

V. THE EMPEROR'S REPLY.

I give you a sea-fight, and you give me epigrams: you wish, I suppose, Marcus, to be set afloat with your book.

VI. ON A LION OF CAESAR'S THAT SPARED A HARE.

While through the air of heaven the eagle was carrying the youth,1 the burden unhurt clung to its anxious talons. From Caesar's lions their own prey now succeeds in obtaining mercy, and the hare plays safe in their huge jaws. Which miracle do you think the greater? The author of each is a supreme being: the one is the work of Caesar; the other,2 of Jove.

1 Ganymede. 2 Comp. Eps. 14, 22.

VII. TO MAXIMUS

The dove, the delight of my friend Stella,3----even with Verona4 listening will I say it, ---- has surpassed, Maximus, the sparrow of Catullus. By so much is my Stella greater than your Catullus, as a dove is greater than a sparrow.

3 A poet of Patavium, who wrote an elegy on the dove of his mistress Ianthis. See B. vi. Ep. 21; B. vii. Ep. 13. 4 The birth-place of Catullus.

VIII. TO DECIANUS

In that you so far only follow the opinions of the great Thrasea and Cato of consummate virtue, that you still wish to preserve your life, and do not with bared breast rush upon drawn swords, you do, Decianus, what I should wish you to do. I do not approve of a man who purchases fame with life-blood, easy to be shed: I like him who can be praised without dying to obtain it.

IX. TO COTTA.

You wish to appear, Cotta, a pretty man and a great man at one and the same time: but he who is a pretty man, Cotta, is a very small man.

X. ON GEMELLUS AND MARONILLA.

Gemellus is seeking the hand of Maronilla, and is earnest, and lays siege to her, and beseeches her, and makes presents to her. Is she then so pretty? Nay; nothing can be more ugly. What then is the great object and attraction in her? ----Her cough.

XI. TO SEXTILIANUS.

Seeing that there are given to a knight twice five pieces,1 wherefore is twice ten the amount which you spend by yourself, Sextilianus, in drink? Long since would the warm water have failed the attendants who carried it, had you not, Sextilianus, been drinking your wine unmixed.2

1 Ten sesterces, the usual sportula, or donation from the emperor. 2 The Romans used to drink their wine mixed with warm water.

XII. ON REGULUS.

Where the road runs to the towers of the cool Tivoli, sacred to Hercules, and the hoary Albula 3 smokes with sulphureous waters, a milestone, the fourth from the neighbouring city, points out a country retreat, and a hallowed grove, and a domain well beloved of the Muses. Here a rude portico used to afford cool shade in summer; a portico, ah! how nearly the desperate cause of an unheard-of calamity: for suddenly it fell in ruins, after Regulus had just been conveyed in a carriage and pair from under its high fabric. Truly Dame Fortune feared our complaints, as she would have been unable to withstand so great odium. Now even our loss delights us; so beneficial is the impression which the very danger produces; since, while standing, the edifice could not have proved to us the existence of the gods.

3 A plain near Tivoli.

XIII. ON ARRIA AND PAETUS.

When the chaste Arria handed to her Paetus the sword which she had with her own hand drawn forth from her heart, "If you believe me," said she, "the wound which I have made gives me no pain; but it is that which you will make, Paetus, that pains me."

XIV. TO DOMITIAN.

The pastimes, Caesar, the sports and the play of the lions, we have seen: your arena affords you the additional sight of the captured hare returning often in safety from the kindly tooth, and running at large through the open jaws. Whence is it that the greedy lion can spare his captured prey? He is said to be yours: thence it is that he can show mercy.

XV. TO JULIUS.

Oh! you who are regarded by me, Julius, as second to none of my companions, if well-tried friendship and longstanding ties are worth anything, already nearly a sixtieth consul is pressing upon you, and your life numbers but a few more uncertain days. Not wisely would you defer the enjoyment which you see maybe denied you, or consider the past alone as your own. Cares and linked chains of disaster are in store; joys abide not, but take flight with winced speed. Seize them with either hand, and with your full grasp; even thus they will oft-times pass away and glide from your closest embrace. 'Tis not, believe me, a wise man's part to say, "I will live." To-morrow's life is too late: live to-day.

XVI. TO AVITUS.

Of the epigrams which you read here, some are good, some middling, many bad; a book, Avitus, cannot be made in any other way.

XVII. TO TITUS.

Titus urges me to go to the Bar, and often tells me, "The gains are large." The gains of the husbandman, Titus, are likewise large.

XVIII. TO TUCCA, ON HIS PARSIMONY.

What pleasure can it give you, Tucca, to mix with old Falernian wine new wine stored up in Vatican casks? What vast amount of good has the most worthless of wine done you? or what amount of evil has the best wine done you? As for us, it is a small matter; but to murder Falernian, and to put poisonous wine in a Campanian cask, is an atrocity. Your guests may possibly have deserved to perish: a wine-jar of such value has not deserved to die.

XIX. TO AELIA.

If I remember right, Aelia, you had four teeth; a cough displaced two, another two more. You can now cough without anxiety all the day long. A third cough can find nothing to do in your mouth.

XX. TO CAECILIANUS.

Tell me, what madness is this? While a whole crowd of invited guests is looking on, you alone, Caecilianus, devour the truffles. What shall I imprecate on you worthy of so large a stomach and throat? That you may eat a truffle such as Claudius ate.

XXI. ON PORSENA AND MUCIUS SCAEVOLA.

When the hand that aimed at the king mistook for him his secretary, it thrust itself to perish into the sacred fire but the generous foe could not endure so cruel a sight, and bade the hero, snatched from the flame, to be set free. The hand which, despising the fire, Mucius dared to burn, Porsena could not bear to look on Greater was the fame and glory of that right hand from being deceived; had it not missed its aim, it had accomplished less.

XXII. TO A HARE.

Why, silly hare, are you fleeing from the fierce jaws of the lion now grown tame? They have not learned to crush such tiny animals. Those talons, which you fear, are reserved for mighty necks, nor does a thirst so great delight in so small a draught of blood. The hare is the prey of hounds; it does not fill large mouths: the Dacian boy should not fear Caesar.

XXIII. TO COTTA.

You invite no one, Cotta, except those whom you meet at the bath; and the bath alone supplies you with guests. I used to wonder why you had never asked me, Cotta; I know now that my appearance in a state of nature was unpleasing in your eyes.

XXIV. TO DECIANUS.

You see yonder individual, Decianus, with locks uncombed, whose grave brow even you fear; who talks incessantly of the Curii and Camilli, defenders of their country's liberties: do not trust his looks; he was taken to wife but yesterday.

XXV. TO FAUSTINUS.

Issue at length your books to the public, Faustinus, and give to the light the work elaborated by your accomplished mind,----a work such as neither the Cecropian city of Pandion would condemn, nor our old men pass by in silence. Do you hesitate to admit Fame, who is standing before your door; and does it displease you to receive the reward of your labour? Let the writings, destined to live after you, begin to live through your means. Glory comes too late, when paid only to our ashes.

XXVI. TO SEXTILIANUS.

Sextilianus, you drink as much as five rows of knights 1 alone: you might intoxicate yourself with water, if you so often drank as much. Nor is it the coin of those who sit near you alone that you consume in drink, but the money of those far removed from you, on the distant benches. This vintage has not been concerned with Pelignian presses, nor was this juice of the grape produced upon Tuscan heights; but it is the glorious jar of the long-departed Opimius 2 that is drained, and it is the Massic cellar that sends forth its blackened casks. Get dregs of Laletane wine from a tavern-keeper, Sextilianus, if you drink more than ten cups.3

1 Seated on the benches allotted them in the theatre. See Ep. 12. 2 The vintage of B. C. 121, in which year L. Opimius was one of the consuls, was extremely celebrated, and is frequently mentioned by the Roman writers. 3 The number to which persons at feasts usually restricted themselves.

XXVII. TO PROCILLUS.

Last night I had invited you----after some fifty glasses, I suppose, had been despatched----to sup with me to-day. You immediately thought your fortune was made, and took note of my unsober words, with a precedent but too dangerous. I hate a boon companion whose memory is good, Procillus.

XXVIII. ON ACCERRA.

Whoever believes it is of yesterday's wine that Acerra smells, is mistaken: Acerra always drinks till morning.

XXIX. TO FIDENTINUS.

Report says that you, Fidentinus, recite my compositions in public as if they were your own. If you allow them to be called mine, I will send you my verses gratis; if you wish them to be called yours, pray buy them, that they may be mine no longer.

XXX. ON DIAULUS.

Diaulus had been a surgeon, and is now an undertaker. He has begun to be useful to the sick in the only way that he could.

XXXI. TO APOLLO, OF ENCOLPUS.

Encolpus, the favourite of the centurion his master, consecrates these, the whole of the locks from his head, to you, O Phoebus.1 When Pudens shall have rained the pleasing honour of the chief-centurionship, which he has so well merited, cut these long tresses close, O Phoebus, as soon as possible, while the tender face is yet undisfigured with down, and while the flowing hair adorns the milk-white neck; and, that both master and favourite may long enjoy your gifts, make him carry shorn, but late a man.2

1 Encolpus, a favourite of Aulus Pudens the centurion, had vowed his hair to Phoebus, is order that his master might soon be made chief centurion. Martial prays that they may both obtain what they desire. 2 Extend his youth as long as possible.

XXXII. TO SABIDIUS.

I do not love you, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, I do not love you.

The following lines, in imitation of this epigram, were made by some Oxford wit, on Dr John Fell, Bishop of Oxford, who died in 1686:

I do not love thee, Doctor Fell; The reason why I cannot tell. But this I'm sure I know full well, I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.

XXXIII. ON GELLIA.

Gellia does not mourn for her deceased father, when she is alone; but if any one is present, obedient tears spring forth. He mourns not, Gellia, who seeks to be praised; he is the true mourner, who mourns without a witness.

XXXIV. TO LESBIA.

You always take your pleasure, Lesbia, with doors unguarded and open, nor are you at any pains to conceal your amusements. It is more the spectator, than the accomplice in your doings, that pleases you, nor are any pleasures grateful to your taste if they be secret. Yet the common courtesan excludes every witness by curtain and by bolt, and few are the chinks in a suburban brothel. Learn something at least of modesty from Chione, or from Alis: even the monumental edifices of the dead afford hiding-places for abandoned harlots. Does my censure seem too harsh? I do not exhort you to be chaste, Lesbia, but not to be caught.

XXXV. TO CORNELIUS.

You complain, Cornelius, that the verses which I compose are little remarkable for their reserve, and not such as a master can read out in his school; but such effusions, as in the case of man and wife, cannot please without some spice of pleasantry in them. What if you were to bid me write a hymeneal song in words not suited to hymeneal occasions? Who enjoins the use of attire at the Floral games, and imposes on the courtesan the reserve of the matron? This law has been allowed to frolicsome verses, that without tickling the fancy they cannot please. Lay aside, therefore, your severe look, I beseech you, and spare my jokes and gaiety, and do not desire to mutilate my compositions. Nothing is more disgusting than Priapus become a priest of Cybele.

XXXVI. TO THE BROTHERS LUCANUS AND TULLUS.

If, Lucanus, to you, or if to you, Tullus, had been offered such fates as the Laconian children of Leda enjoy, there would have been this noble struggle of affection in both of you, that each would have wished to die first in place of his brother; and he who should have first descended to the nether realms of shade would have said, "Live, brother, thine own term of days; live also mine."

XXXVII. TO BASSUS.

Yon deposit your excretions, without any sense of shame, into an unfortunate vessel of gold, while you drink out of glass. The former operation, consequently, is the more expensive.

XXXVIII. TO FIDENTINUS.

The book which you are reading aloud is mine, Fidentinus but, while you read it so badly, it begins to be yours.

With fruity accents, and so vile a tone, You quote my lines, I took them for your own. Anon.

XXXIX. TO DECIANUS.

If there be any man fit to be numbered among one's few choice friends, a man such as the honesty of past times and ancient renown would readily acknowledge; if any man thoroughly imbued with the accomplishments of the Athenian and Latin Minervas, and exemplary for true integrity; if there be any man who cherishes what is right, and admires what is honourable, and asks nothing of the gods but what all may hear; if there be any man sustained by the strength of a great mind, may I die, if that man is not Decianus.

XL. TO AN ENVIOUS MAN.

You who make grimaces, and read these verses of mine with an ill grace, you, victim of jealousy, may, if you please, envy everybody; nobody will envy you.

XLI. TO CAECILIUS.

You imagine yourself Caecilius, a man of wit. You are no such thing, believe me. What then? A low buffoon; such a thing as wanders about in the quarters beyond the Tiber, and barters pale-coloured sulphur matches for broken glass; such a one as sells boiled peas and beans to the idle crowd; such as a lord and keeper of snakes; or as a common servant of the salt-meat-sellers; or a hoarse-voiced cook who carries round smoking sausages in steaming shops; or the worst of street poets; or a blackguard slave-dealer from Gades;1 or a chattering old debauchee. Cease at length, therefore, to imagine yourself that which is imagined by you alone, Caecilius, you who could have silenced Gabba, and even Testius Caballus, with your jokes. It is not given to every one to have taste; he who jests with a stupid effrontery is not a Testius, but a Caballus.3

1 See Juvenal xi. 163, and Mayor's note. 3 A play on the word Caballus, which, as an appellative noun, meant a hack-horse.

XLII. ON PORCIA.

When Porcia had heard the fate of her consort Brutus, and her grief was seeking the weapon, which had been carefully removed from her," You know not yet," she cried, "that death cannot be denied: I had supposed that my father had taught you this lesson by his fate. She spoke, and with eager mouth swallowed the blazing coals. "Go now, officious attendants, and refuse me a sword, if you will."

XLIII. ON MANCINUS.

Twice thirty were invited to your table, Mancinus, and nothing was placed before us yesterday but a wild-boar. Nowhere were to be seen grapes preserved from the late vines, or apples vying in flavour with sweet honey-combs; nowhere the pears which hang suspended by flexible twigs, or pomegranates the colour of summer roses: nor did the rustic basket supply its milky cheeses, or the olive emerge from its Picenian jar. Your wild-boar was by itself: and it was even of the smallest size, and such a one as might have been slaughtered by an unarmed dwarf. Besides, none of it was given us; we simply looked on it as spectators. This is the way in which even the arena places a wild-boar before us. May no wild-boar be placed before you after such doings, but may you be placed before the boar in front of which Charidemus was placed.1

1 By Domitian, to be torn in pieces. See Sueton. Life of Domit.

XLIV. TO STELLA.

If it seems to you too much, Stella, that my longer and shorter compositions are occupied with the frisky gambols of the hares and the play of the lions, and that I go over the same subject twice, do you also place a hare twice before me.

XLV. ON HIS BOOK.

That the care which I have bestowed upon what I have published may not come to nothing through the smallness of my volumes, let me rather fill up my verses with Τὸν δ̕ ἀπαμειθόμενος.1

1 Let me rather use frequent repetitions, just as Homer frequently repeats these words.

XLVI. TO HEDYLUS.

[From the Loeb translation]

When you say "I haste; now is the time," then, Hedylus, my ardour at once flags and weakens. Bid me wait: more quickly, stayed, shall I speed on. Hedylus, if you do haste, tell me not to haste!

XLVII. ON DIAULUS.

Diaulus, lately a doctor, is now an undertaker: what he does as an undertaker, he used to do also as a doctor.

XLVIII. ON THE LION AND HARE.

The keepers could not snatch the bulls from those wide jaws, through which the fleeting prey, the hare, goes and returns in safety; and, what is still more strange, he starts from his foe with increased swiftness, and contracts something of the great nobleness of the lion's nature. He is not safer when he courses along the empty arena, nor with equal feeling of security does he hide him in his hutch. If, venturous hare, you seek; to avoid the teeth of the hounds, you have the jaws of the lion to which you may flee for refuge.

XLIX. TO LICINIANUS.

O you, whose name must not be left untold by Celtiberian nations, you the honour of our common country, Spain, you, Licinianus, will behold the lofty Bilbilis, renowned for horses and arms, and Catus1 venerable with his locks of snow, and eased Vadavero with ita broken cliffs, and the sweet grove of delicious Botrodus, which the happy Pomona loves. You will breast the gently-flowing water of the warm Congedus and the calm lakes of the Nymphs, and your body, relaxed by these, you may brace up in the little Salo, which hardens iron. There Voberca 2 herself will supply for your meals animals which may be brought down close at hand. The serene summer heat you will disarm by bathing in the golden Tagus, hidden beneath the shades of trees; your greedy thirst the fresh Dercenna will appease, and Nutha, which in coldness surpasses snow. But when hoar December and the furious solstice shall resound with the hoarse blasts of the north-wind, you will again seek the sunny shores of Tarraco and thine own Laletania. There you will despatch hinds caught in your supple toils, and native boars; and you will tire out the cunning hare with your hardy steed; the stags you will leave to your bailiff. The neighboring wood will come down into your very hearth, surrounded as it will be with a troop of uncombed children. The huntsman will be invited to your table, and many a guest called in from the neighbourhood will come to you. The crescent-adorned boot 3 will be nowhere to be seen, nowhere the toga and garments smelling of purple dye. Far away will be the ill-favoured Liburnian porter 4 and the grumbling client; far away the imperious demands of widows. The pale criminal will not break your deep sleep, but all the morning long you will enjoy your slumber. Let another earn the grand and wild "Bravo!" Do you pity such happy ones, and enjoy without pride true delight, while your friend Sura is crowned with applause. Not unduly does life demand of us our few remaining days, when fame has as much as is sufficient.

1 Catus and Vadavero are names of mountains near Bilbilis. Botrodus is a small town; Congedus and Salo, riven. 2 The name of a town. Dercenna and Nutha are fountains. 3 Worn by senators. 4 See Juvenal, iv. 75.

L. TO AEMILIANUS.

If your cook, Aemilianus, is called Mistyllus, why should not mine be called Taratalla?1

1 A meaningless jest taken from Homer's words (Il. i.465).

LI. TO A HARE.

No neck, save the proudest, serves for the fierce lion. Why do you, vain-glorious hare, flee from these teeth? No doubt you would wish them to stoop from the huge bull to you, and to crush a neck which they cannot see. The glory of an illustrious death must be an object of despair to you. You, a tiny prey, canst not fall before such an enemy!

LII. TO QUINCTIANUS.

To you, Quinctianus, do I commend my books, if indeed I can call books mine, which your poet recites.1 If they complain of a grievous yoke, do you come forward as their advocate, and defend them efficiently; and when he calls himself their master, say that they were mine, but have been given 2 by me to the public. If you will proclaim this three or four times, you will bring shame on the plagiary.

1 A poet that recited verses to Quinctianus; the same, probably, that is mentioned in the next epigram. 2 Manumitted; released from my portfolio.

LIII. TO FIDENTINUS.

One page only in my books belongs to you, Fidentinus, but it bears the sure stamp of its master, and accuses your verses of glaring theft. Just so does a Gallic frock coming in contact with purple city cloaks stain them with grease and filth; just so do Arretine1 pots disgrace vases of crystal; so is a buck crow, straying perchance on the banks of the Cayster, laughed to scorn amid the swans of Leda: and so, when the sacred grove resounds with the music of the tuneful nightingale, the miscreant magpie disturbs her Attic plaints. My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is yours stands up against you and says, "You are a thief"

1 Earthen pots from Arretium, a town of Etruria.

LIV. TO FUSCUS.

If, Fuscus, you have room to receive still more affection, (for you have friends around you on all sides), I ask you one place in your heart, if one still remains vacant, and that you will not refuse because I am a stranger to you: all your old friends were so once. Simply consider whether he who is presented to you a stranger is likely to become an old friend.

LV. TO FRONTO.

If you, Fronto, so distinguished an ornament of military and civil life, desire to learn the wishes of your friend Marcus, he prays for this, to be the tiller of his own farm, nor that a large one, and he loves inglorious repose in as unpretending sphere. Does any one haunt the porticoes of cold variegated Spartan marble, and run to offer, like a fool, his morning greetings, when he might, rich with the spoils of grave and field, unfold before his fire his well-filled nets, and lift the leaping fish with the quivering line, and draw forth the yellow honey from the red1 cask, while a plump housekeeper loads his unevenly-propped table, and his own eggs are cooked by an unbought fire? That the man who loves not me may not love this life, is my wish; and let him drag out life pallid with the cares of the city.

1 Stained with vermilion.

LVI. TO A VINTNER.

Harassed with continual rains, the vineyard drips with wet. You cannot sell us, vintner, even though you wish, neat wine.

LVII. TO FLACCUS.

Do you ask what sort of maid I desire or dislike, Flaccus? I dislike one too easy, and one too coy. The just mean, which lies between the two extremes, is what I approve; I like neither that which tortures, nor that which cloys.

LVIII. DE PUERI PRETIO.

[Untranslated]

LIX. TO FLACCUS.

The sportula1 at Baiae brings me in a hundred farthings; of what use is such a miserable sum in the midst of such sumptuous baths? Give me back the darksome baths of Lupus and Gryllus. When I sup so scantily, Flaccus, why should I bathe so luxuriously?

1 Sportula. A present from the richer class to the poorer; nominally the price of a supper. See Dict. Antiqq. s. v.

LX. ON THE LION AND HARE.

Hare, although you enter the wide jaws of the fierce lion, still he imagines his mouth to be empty. Where is the back on which he shall rush? where the shoulders on which he shall flail? where shall he fix those deep bites which he inflicts on young bulls? why do you in vain weary the lord and monarch of the groves? 'Tis only on the wild prey of his choice that he feeds.

LXI. TO LICINIANUS, ON THE COUNTRIES OF CELEBRATED AUTHORS.

Verona loves the verses of her learned Poet; Mantua is blest in her Maro; the territory of Apona is renowned for its Livy, its Stella, and not less for its Flaccus. The Nile, whose waters are instead of rain, applauds its Apollodorus; the Pelignians vaunt their Ovid. Eloquent Cordova speaks of its two Senecas and its single and preeminent Lucan. Voluptuous Gades delights in her Canius,1 Emerita in my friend Decianus. Our Bilbilis will be proud of you, Licinianus, nor will be altogether silent concerning me.

1 See b. iii. Ep. 20.

LXII. ON LAEVINA.

Laevina, so chaste as to rival even the Sabine women of old, and more austere than even her stern husband, chanced, while entrusting herself sometimes to the waters of the Lucrine lake, sometimes to those of Avernus, and while frequently refreshing herself in the baths of Baiae, to fall into flames of love, and, leaving her husband, fled with a young gallant. She arrived a Penelope, she departed a Helen.

LXIII. TO CELER.

You ask me to recite to you my Epigrams. I cannot oblige you; for you wish not to hear them, Celer, but to recite them.1

1 To plagiarise them from me, and then to recite them as your own.

LXIV. TO FABULLA.

You are pretty,----we know it; and young,----it is true; and rich,----who can deny it? But when you praise yourself extravagantly, Fabulla, you appear neither rich, nor pretty, nor young.

LXV. TO CAECILIANUS.

When I said ficus, you laughed at it as a barbarous word, Caecilianus, and bade me say ficos. I shall call the produce of the fig-tree ficus; yours I shall call ficos.1

1 An untranslatable jest on the double meaning of the word ficus, which, when declined ficus, -i, means piles or someone afflicted with it; and when ficus -lis, a fig-tree.

LXVI. TO A PLAGIARIST.

You are mistaken, insatiable thief of my writings, who think a poet can be made for the mere expense which copying, and a cheap volume cost. The applause of the world is not acquired for six or even ten sesterces. Seek out for this purpose verses treasured up, and unpublished efforts, known only to one person, and which the father himself of the virgin sheet, that has not been worn and scrubbed by bushy chins, keeps sealed up in his desk. A well-known book cannot change its master. But if there is one to be found vet unpolished by the pumice-stone, yet unadorned with bosses and cover, buy it: I have such by me, and no one shall know it. Whoever recites another's compositions, and seeks for fame, must buy, not a book, but the author's silence.

LXVII. TO CHOERILUS.

"You are too free-spoken," is your constant remark to me, Choerilus. He who speaks against you, Choerilus, is indeed a free speaker.1

1 Free from all restraint, for he may say all sorts of things against you without fear of contradiction.

LXVIII. ON RUFUS.

Whatever Rufus does, Naevia is all in all to him. Whether he rejoices, or mourns, or is silent, it is ever Naevia. He eats, he drinks, he asks, he refuses, he gesticulates, Naevia alone is in his thoughts: if there were no Naevia, he would be mute. When he had written a dutiful letter yesterday to his father, he ended it with, "Naevia, light of my eyes, Naevia, my idol, farewell" Naevia read these words, and laughed with downcast looks. Naevia is not yours only: what madness is this, foolish man?

LXIX. TO MAXIMUS.

Tarentos,3 which was wont to exhibit the statue of Pan, begins now, Maximus, to exhibit that of Canius.

3 Tarentos, a place in the Campus Martius, in which was a temple consecrated to Plato, and filled with statues of Pan, the Satyrs, and other deities or remarkable personages. On Canius, a humorous poet of Gades, whose statue, it appears, was put there with Pan's, see above, Ep. 61; B. iii. Ep. 29.

LXX. TO HIS BOOK.

Go, my book, and pay my respects for me: you are ordered to go, dutiful volume, to the splendid halls of Proculus. Do you ask the way? I will tell you. You will go along by the temple of Castor, near that of ancient Vesta, and that goddess's virgin home. Thence you will pass to the majestic Palatine edifice on the sacred hill, where glitters many a statue of the supreme ruler of the empire. And let not the ray-adorned mass of the Colossus detain you, a work which is proud of surpassing that of Rhodes. But turn aside by the way where the temple of the wine-bibbing Bacchus rises, and where the couch of Cybele stands adorned with. pictures of the Corybantes. Immediately on the left is the dwelling with its splendid facade, and the halls of the lofty mansion which you are to approach. Enter it; and fear not its haughty looks or proud gate; no entrance affords more ready access; nor is there any house more inviting for Phoebus and the learned sisters to love. If Proculus shall say, "But why does he not come himself?" you may excuse me thus, "Because he could not have written what is to be read here, whatever be its merit, if he had come to pay his respects in person."

LXXI. TO SLEEP.

Let Laevia be toasted with six cups,. Justine with seven, Lycas with five, Lyde with four, Ida with three. Let the number of letters in the name of each of our mistresses be equalled by the number of cups of Falernian. But, since none of them comes, come you, Sleep, to me.

LXXII. TO FIDENTINUS, A PLAGIARIST.

Do you imagine, Fidentinus, that you are a poet by the aid of my verses, and do you wish to be thought so? Just so does Aegle think she has teeth from having purchased bone or ivory. Just so does Lycoris, who is blacker than the falling mulberry, seem fair in her own eyes, because she is painted. You too, in the same way that you are a poet, will have flowing locks when you are grown bald.

LXXIII. TO CAECILIANUS.

These was no one in the whole city, Caecilianus, who desired to meddle with your wife, even gratis, while permission was given; but now, since you have set a watch upon her, the crowd of gallants is innumerable. You are a clever fellow!

LXXIV. TO PAULA.

He was your gallant, Paula; you could however deny it He is become your husband; can you deny it now, Paula? 1

1 He was said to be your gallant when your first husband was alive. You then denied it. You married him as soon as your husband died. Will you deny it now?

LXXV. ON LINUS.

He who prefers to give Linus the half of what he wishes to borrow, rather than to lend him the whole, prefers to lose only the half.

LXXVI. TO VALERIUS FLACCUS.1

Flaccus, valued object of my solicitude, hope and nursling of the city of Antenor,2 put aside Pierian strains and the lyre of the Sisters; none of those damsels will give you money. What do you expect from Phoebus? The cheat of Minerva contains the cash; she alone is wise, she alone lends to all the gods. What can the ivy of Bacchus give? The dark tree of Pallas bends down its variegated boughs under the load of fruit. Helicon, besides its waters and the garlands and lyres of the goddesses, and the great but empty applause of the multitude, has nothing. What have you to do with Cirrha? What with bare Permessis? The Roman forum is nearer and more lucrative. There is heard the chink of money; but around our desks and barren chairs kisses 3 alone resound.

Though midst the noblest poets you have place, Flaccus, the offering of Antenor's race; Renounce the Muses' songs and charming quire, For none of them enrich, though they inspire. Court not Apollo, Pallas has the gold; She 's wise, and does the gods in mortgage hold. What profit is there in an ivy wreath? Its fruits the loaden olive sinks beneath. In Helicon there's nought but springs and bays, The Muses' harps loud sounding empty praise.

1 The author of the Argonautica. 2 The city of Patavium, founded by Antenor 3 As tokens of applause.

LXXVII. ON CHARINUS.

Charinus is perfectly well, and yet he is pale; Charinus drinks sparingly, and yet he is pale; Charinus digests well, and yet he is pale; Charinus suns himself and yet he is pale; Charinus dyes his skin, and yet he is pale; Charinus indulges in [infamous debauchery], and yet he is pale.1

1 That is, he does not blush at his infamy.

LXXVIII. ON FESTUS, WHO STABBED HIMSELF.

When a devouring malady attacked his unoffending throat, and its black poison extended its ravages over his face, Festus, consoling his weeping friends, while his own eyes were dry, determined to seek the Stygian lake. He did not however pollute his pious mouth with secret poison, or aggravate his sad fate by lingering famine, but ended his pure life by a death befitting a Roman, and freed his spirit in a nobler way. This death fame may place above that of the great Cato; for Domitian was Festus' friend.2

2 Cato said that he died to avoid looking on the face of the tyrant Caesar.

LXXIX. TO ATTALUS, A BUSY-BODY.

Attalus, you are ever acting the barrister, or acting the man of business: whether there is or is not a part for you to act, Attalus, you are always acting a part. If lawsuits and business are not to be found, Attalus, you act the mule-driver. Attalus, lest a part should be wanting for you to act, act the part of executioner on yourself..

You act the pleader, and you act the man Of business; acting is your constant plan: So prone to act, the coachman's part is tried; Lest all parts fail you, act the suicide. L. H. S.

LXXX. TO CANUS.

On the last night of your lift, Canus, a sportula was the object of your wishes. I suppose the cause of your death was, Canus, that there was only one.1

1 He had hoped for several largesses; he died of mortification at receiving only one.

LXXXI. TO SOSIBIANUS.

You know that you are the son of a slave, and you ingenuously confess it, when you call your father, Sosibianus, "master".2

2 The mother of Sosibianus had been guilty of adultery with a slave. When Sosibianus calls his reputed father Dominus, as a title of respect, but which was also a term for a master of slaves, he confessed himself a verna, or born-slave.

LXXXII. ON REGULUS.

See from what mischief this portico, which, overthrown amid clouds of dust, stretches its long ruins over the ground, lies absolved. For Regulus had but just been carried in his litter under its arch, and had got out of the way, when forthwith, borne down by its own weight, it fell; and, being no longer in fear for its master, it came down free from blood-guiltiness, a harmless ruin, without any attendant anxiety. After the fear of so great a cause for complaint is passed, who would deny, Regulus, that you, for whose sake the fall was harmless, are an object of care to the gods?

LXXXIII. ON MANNEIA.

Your lap-dog, Manneia, licks your mouth and lips: I do not wonder at a dog liking to eat ordure.1

1 A sarcasm on the foulness of Manneia's breath.

LXXXIV. ON QUIRINALIS.

Quirinalis, though he wishes to have children, has no intention of taking a wife, and has found out in what way he can accomplish his object. He takes to him his maid-servants, and fills his house and his lands with slave-knights.2 Quirinalis is a true pater-familias.

2 Equitibus vernis. (See Heinrich on Juv. ix. 10.) Eques verna, the offspring of a knight and a slave.

LXXXV. ON AN AUCTIONEER.

A wag of an auctioneer, offering for sale some cultivated heights, and some beautiful acres of land near the city, says, "If any one imagines that Marius is compelled to sell, he is mistaken; Marius owes nothing: on the contrary, he rather has money to put out at interest." "What is his reason, then, for selling?" "In this place he lost all his slaves, and his cattle, and his profits; hence he does not like the locality." Who would have made any offer, unless he had wished to lose all his property? So the ill-fated land remains with Marius.

LXXXVI. ON NOVIUS.

Novius is my neighbour, and may be reached by the hand from my windows. Who would not envy me, and think me a happy man every hour of the day when I may enjoy the society of one so near to me? But, he is as far removed from me as Terentianus, who is now governor of Syene on the Nile. I am not privileged either to live with him, or even see him, or hear him; nor in the whole city is there any one at once so near and so far from me. I must remove farther off, or he must. If any one wishes not to see Novius, let him become his neighbour or his fellow-lodger.

My neighbour Hunks's house and mine Are built so near they almost join; The windows too project so much, That through the casements we may touch. Nay, I'm so happy, most men think, To live so near a man of chink, That they are apt to envy me, For keeping such good company: But he's far from me, I vow, As London is from good Lord Howe; For when old Hunks I chance to meet, Or one or both must quit the street. Thus he who would not see old Roger, Must be his neighbour----or his lodger. Swift

LXXXVII. TO FESCENNIA.

That you may not be disagreeably fragrant with your yesterday's wine, you devour, luxurious Fescennia, certain of Cosmus's1 perfumes. Breakfasts of such a nature leave their mark on the teeth, but form no barrier against the emanations which escape from the depths of the stomach. Nay, the fetid smell is but the worse when mixed with perfume, and the double odour of the breath is carried but the farther. Cease then to use frauds but too well known, and disguises well understood; and simply intoxicate yourself!

1 Cosmus: a celebrated perfumer of the day, and frequently mentioned.

LXXXVIII. ON ALCIMUS.

Alcimus, whom, snatched from your lord in your opening years, the Labican earth covers with light turf, receive, not a nodding mass of Parian marble,----an unenduring monument which misapplied toil gives to the dead,----but shapely box-trees and the dark shades of the palm leaf, and dewy flowers of the mead which bloom from being watered with my tears. Receive, dear youth, the memorials of my grief: this tribute will live for you in all time. When Lachesis shall have spun to the end of my last hour, I shall ask no other honours for my ashes.

LXXXIX. TO CINNA.

You always whisper into every one's ear, Cinna; you whisper even what might be said in the hearing of the whole world. You laugh, you complain, you dispute, you weep, you sing, you criticise, you are silent, you are noisy; and all in one's ear. Has this disease so thoroughly taken possession of you, that you often praise Caesar, Cinna, in the ear? 1

1 When his praise ought to be proclaimed aloud everywhere.

XC. ON BASSA.

Inasmuch as I never saw you, Bassa, surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and report in no case assigned to you a favoured lover; but every duty about your person was constantly performed by a crowd of your own sex, without the presence of even one man; you seemed to me, I confess it, to be a Lucretia.

XCI. TO LAELIUS.

You do not publish your own verses, Laelius; you criticise mine. Pray cease to criticise mine, or else publish your own.

You blame my verses and conceal your own: Either publish yours, or else let mine alone! Anon. 1695.

XCII. TO MAMURIANUS.

Cestus with tears in his eyes often complains to me, Hamurianus, of being touched with your finger. You need not use your finger merely; take Cestos all to yourself if nothing else is wanting in your establishment, Mamurianus.2 But if you have neither fire, nor legs for your bare bedstead, nor broken basin of Chione or Antiope;3 if a cloak greasy and worn hangs down your back, and a Gallic jacket covers only half of your loins; and if you feed on the smell alone of the dark kitchen, and drink on your knees dirty water with the dog;

Non culum, neque enim est cuius, qui non cacat olim, Sed fodiam digito qui super est oculum.4 Nec me zelotypum nec dixeris esse malignum: Denique paedica, Mamuriane, satur.

2 Mamurianus is ridiculed for his sordid and licentious life. He had but one eye, as appears from what is said below. Cestus was Martial's servant. 3 Names of courtesans, from whom Martial intimates that Mamurianus would accept broken vessels. 4 A play on the words culus and oculus. A common threat was, "Oculos tibieffodiam," often used in Plautus.

XCIII. ON AQUINUS AND FABRICIUS.

Here reposes Aquinas, reunited to his faithful Fabricius, who rejoices in having preceded him to the Elysian retreats. This double altar bears record that each was honoured with the rank of chief centurion; but that praise is of still greater worth which you read in this shorter inscription: Both were united in the sacred bond of a well-spent life, and, what is rarely known to fame, were friends.

XCIV. TO AEGLE THE FELLATRIX.

[Not translated in the Bohn - adapted from the Loeb]

Badly you sang while you fornicated, Aegle. Now you sing well; but I won't kiss you.

XCV. TO AELIUS.

In constantly making a clamour, and obstructing the pleaders with your noise, Aelius, you act not without an object; you look for pay to hold your tongue.

That bawlers you out-bawl, the busy crush, No idler you, who bring to sale your hush. Elphinston.

XCVI. TO HIS VERSE, ON A LICENTIOUS CHARACTER.

If it is not disagreeable, and does not annoy you, my verse, say, I pray, a word or two in the ear of our friend Maternus, so that he alone may hear. That admirer of sad-coloured coats, clad in the costume of the banks of the river Baetis, and in grey garments, who deems the wearers of scarlet not men, and calls amethyst-coloured robes the dress of women, however much he may praise natural hues, and be always seen in dark colours, has at the same time morals of an extremely flagrant hue. You will ask whence I suspect him of effeminacy. We go to the same baths; Do you ask me who this is? His name has escaped me.

XCVII. TO NAEVOLUS.

When every one is talking, then and then only, Naevolus, do you open your month; and you think yourself an advocate and a pleader. In such a way every one may be eloquent. But see, everybody is silent; say something now, Naevolus.

XCVIII. TO FLACCUS, ON DIODORUS.

Diodorus goes to law, Flaccus, and has the gout in his feet But he pays his counsel nothing; surely he has the gout also in his hands.

XCIX. TO CALENUS.

But a short time since, Calenus, you had not quite two millions of sesterces; but you were so prodigal and open-handed, and hospitable, that all your friends wished you ten millions. Heaven heard the wish and our prayers; and within, I think, six months, four deaths gave you the desired fortune. But you, as if ten millions had not been left to you, but taken from you, condemned yourself to such abstinence, wretched man, that you prepare even your most sumptuous feasts, which you provide only once in the whole year, at the cost of but a few dirty pieces of black coin; and we, seven of your old companions, stand you in just half a pound of leaden money. What blessing are we to invoke upon you worthy of such merits? We wish you, Calenus, a fortune of a hundred millions. If this falls to your lot, you will die of hunger.

C. ON AFRA.

Afra talks of her papas and her mammas; but she herself may be called the grandmamma of her papas and mammas.

CI. ON THE DEATH OF HIS AMANUENSIS DEMETRIUS.

Demetrius, whose hand was once the faithful confidant of my verses, so useful to his master, and so well known to the Caesars, has yielded up his brief life in its early prime. A fourth harvest had been added to his years, which previously numbered fifteen. That he might not, however, descend to the Stygian shades as a slave, I, when the accursed disease had seized and was withering him, took precaution, and remitted to the sick youth all my right over him as his master; he was worthy of restoration to health through my gift.1 He appreciated, with failing faculties, the kindness which he had received; and on the point of departing, a free man, to the Tartarean waters, saluted me as his patron.

1 I.e. I wish my gift could have restored him to health.

CII. TO LYCORIS.

The painter who drew your Venus, Lycoris, paid court, I suppose, to Minerva.2

2 Represented Venus less beautiful than she is, in order to please Minerva, her rival for the golden apple.

CIII. TO SCAEVOLA.

"If the gods were to give me a fortune of a million sesterces," you used to say, Scaevola, before you were a full knight,1 "oh how would I live! how magnificently, how happily!" The complaisant deities smiled and granted your wish. Since that time your toga has become much more dirty, your cloak worse; your shoe has been sewn up three and four times; of ten olives the greater portion is always put by, and one spread of the table serves for two meals; the thick dregs of pink Vejentan wine are your drink; a plate of lukewarm peas costs you a penny; your mistress a penny likewise. Cheat and liar, let us go before the tribunal of the gods; and either live, Scaevola, as befits you, or restore to the gods your million sesterces.

1 That is, before you had four hundred thousand sesterces; which was the fortune that a man must have before he could be a knight

CIV. ON A SPECTACLE IN THE ARENA.

When we see the leopard bear upon his spotted neck a light and easy yoke, and the furious tigers endure with patience the blows of the whip; the stags champ the golden curbs; the Libyan bears tamed by the bit; a boar, huge as that which Calydon is said to have produced, obey the purple muzzle; the ugly buffaloes drag chariots, and the elephant, when ordered to dance nimbly, pay prompt obedience to his swarthy leader; who would not imagine such things a spectacle given by the gods? These, however, any one disregards as of inferior attraction who sees the condescension of the lions, which the swift-footed timorous hares fatigue in the chase. They let go the little animals, catch them again, and caress them when caught, and the latter are safer in their captors' mouths than elsewhere; since the lions delight in granting them free passage through their open jaws, and in holding their teeth as with fear, for they are ashamed to crush the tender prey, after having just come from slaying bulls; This clemency does not proceed from art; the lions know whom they serve.

CV. TO QUINTUS OVIDIUS.

The wine, Ovidius, which is grown in the Nomentan fields, in proportion as it receives the addition of years, puts off, through age, its character and name; and the jar thus ancient receives whatever name you please.1

1 Being mellowed by age, it maybe called Falernian, Cecuban, or any other name given to the best wines.

CVI. TO RUFUS.

Rufus, you often pour water into your wine, and, if hard pressed by your companion, you drink just a cup now and then of diluted Falernian. Pray, is it that Naevia has promised you a night of bliss; and you prefer by sobriety to enhance your enjoyment? You sigh, you are silent, you groan: she has refused you. You may drink, then, and often, cups of four-fold size, and drown in wine your concern at her cruelty. Why do you spare yourself, Rufus? You have nothing before you but to sleep.

CVII. TO LUCIUS JULIUS.

You often say to me, dearest Lucius Julius, "Write something great: you take your ease too much." Give me then leisure,----but leisure such as that which of old Maecenas gave to his Horace and his Virgil -- and I would endeavour to write something which should live through time, and to snatch my name from the flames of the funeral pyre. Steers are unwilling to carry their yoke into barren fields. A fat soil fatigues, but the very labour bestowed on it is delightful.

CVIII. TO GALLUS.

You possess----and may it be yours and grow larger through a long series of years----a house, beautiful I admit, but on the other side of the Tiber. But my garret looks upon the laurels of Agrippa; and in this quarter I am already grown old. I must move, in order to pay you a morning call, Gallus, and you deserve this consideration, even if your house were still farther off. But it is a small matter to you, Gallus, if I add one to the number of your toga-clad visitors; while it is a great matter to me, if I withhold that one. I myself will frequently pay my respects to you at the tenth hour.1 This morning my book shall wish you "good day" in my stead.

1 The tenth hour from sunrise, corresponding to our four o'clock is the afternoon. SeeB. iv. Ep. 8.

CIX. ON A PET DOG AND THE PAINTER.

Issa is more playful than the sparrow of Catullus. Issa is more pure than the kiss of a dove. Issa is more loving than any maiden. Issa is dearer than Indian gems. The little dog Issa is the pet of Publius. If she complains, you will think she speaks. She feels both the sorrow and the gladness of her master. She lies reclined upon his neck, and sleeps, so that not a respiration is heard from her. And, however pressed, she has never sullied the coverlet with a single spot; but rouses her master with a gentle touch of her foot, and begs to be set down from the bed and relieved. Such modesty resides in this chaste little animal; she knows not the pleasures of love; nor do we find a mate worthy of so tender a damsel. That her last hour may not carry her off wholly, Publius has her limned in a picture, in which you will see an Issa so like, that not even herself is so like herself. In a word, place Issa and the picture side by side, and you will imagine either both real, or both painted.

CX. TO VELOX.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long. You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.1

1 Imperfect; abortive; ending in nothing.

CXI. TO REGULUS, ON SENDING HIM A BOOK AND A PRESENT OF FRANKINCENSE.

Since your reputation for wisdom, and the care which you bestow on your labours, are equal, and since your piety is not inferior to your genius, he who is surprised that a book and incense are presented to you, Regulus, is ignorant how to adapt presents to deserts.

CXII. ON PRISCUS, A USURER.

When I did not know you, I used to address you as my lord and king. Now, since I know you well, you shall be plain Priscus with me.

CXIII. TO THE READER.

If, reader, you wish to employ some good hours badly, and are an enemy to your own leisure, you will obtain whatever sportive verses I produced in my youth and boyhood, and all my trifles, which even I myself have forgotten, from Quintus Pollius Valerianus, who has resolved not to let my light effusions perish.

CXIV. TO FAUSTINUS.

These gardens adjoining your domain, Faustinus, and these small fields and moist meadows, Telesphorus Faenius owns. Here he has deposited the ashes of his daughter, and has consecrated the name, which you read, of Antulla;----though his own name should rather have been read there. It had been more just that the father should have gone to the Stygian shades; but, since this was not permitted, may he live to honour his daughter's remains.

CXV. TO PROCILLUS.

A certain damsel, envious Procillus, is desperately in love with me,----a nymph more white than the spotless swan, than silver, than snow, than lily, than privet: already you will be thinking of hanging yourself, But I long for one darker than night, than the ant, than pitch, than the jack-daw, than the cricket. If I know you well, Procillus, you will spare your life.

CXVI. ON THE TOMB OF ANTULLA.

This grove, and these fair acres of cultivated land, Faenius has consecrated to the eternal honour of the dead. In this tomb is deposited Antulla, too soon snatched from her family: in this tomb each of her parents will be united to her. If any one desires this piece of ground, I warn him not to hope for it; it is for ever devoted to its owners.

CXVII. TO LUPERCUS.

Whenever you meet me, Lupercus, you constantly say, "Shall I send my servant, for you to give him your little book of Epigrams, which I will read and return to you directly?" There is no reason, Lupercus, to trouble your servant. It is a lone journey, if he wishes to come to the Pirus;1 and I live up three pairs of stairs, and those high ones. What you want you may procure nearer at hand. You frequently go down to the Argiletum: opposite Caesar's forum is a shop, with pillars on each side covered over with titles of books, so that you may quickly run over the names of all the poets. Procure me there; you will no sooner ask Atrectus,----such is the name of the owner of the shop,----than he will give you, from the first or second shelf a Martial, well smoothed with pumice-stone, and adorned with purple, for five denarii "You are not worth so much," do you say? You are right, Lupercus.

1 The pear-tree. The name of some spot near which Martial lived.

CXVIII. TO CAEDICIANUS.

For him who is not satisfied with reading a hundred epigrams, no amount of trouble is sufficient, Caedicianus.

This text was transcribed by Roger Pearse, Ipswich, UK, 2008. This file and all material on this page is in the public domain - copy freely.

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Early Church Fathers - Additional Texts

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sharkmobster · 5 years

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spider verse coffee shop au??

Anon im sorry i wanted to draw the coffeeshop au but ive been so tired lately so imma just overshare about what goes down bc this au is just (thick tombstone voice) : “everybody’s traumatized bitch lets get you a latte”

• this au is incredibly villain centric bc uhhhhh all i do is think about villains

• its also very aaron davis centric bc time to project my anxiety onto a grown ass man babey!!

• anyway this takes place in a normal world where there’s no superheros or avengers or what have you, everyone’s super average

• like i said this is more or less aaron centric and focuses on him readjusting to society and making connections with other people, and just healing in general. Aaron’s whole deal is that he was wrongfully arrested for defending himself against an off duty cop who was harassing him and ended up with a 10 year sentence (but was let off a year earlier for good behaviour). He’s got a lot of guilt bc of this if only for the fact that he feels like he let down his brother and Miles (who was a small lad at the time).

• Fun Fact! Jefferson was the one that picked up Aaron at the jail when he served out his sentence! The ride back to brooklyn was awkward! but also jefferson loves his brother and even tho they’ve had their falling outs he never once stopped believing that his brother was innocent. Jefferson also made sure to pull some strings and ended up getting an apartment set up for Aaron (even though jefferson and rio were 100% down to open their home to him for as long as it took him to get back onto his feet but of course aaron denied them bc he didnt want to be a burden) Aaron’s grateful but he tends to avoid his own family…a lot….

• it’s ridiculously hard to find a job bc nobody wants to hire an ex convict no matter the circumstances and Aaron’s legitimately about to lose hope when he spots an expensive looking shop nestled in between an old arcade and a knick knack shop

• ‘Vanessa’s Cafe’ is neatly printed above the door in fancy gold lettering. it’s obvious that the owner has serious cash bc the shop looks too damn good and too well maintained to be a regular mom and pop shop. there’s a help wanted sign hastily scribbled on a piece of notebook paper in the middle of the window which is odd since it off sets the professional vibe of the place. But hey it’s worth a shot so Aaron walks in ready to be denied another job only to find the weirdest looking group of people he’s ever seen.

• The first guy that catches his attention is the very large albino man who looks way too stressed out and manic to be working in a coffeeshop, but the job must pay well because he’s very well dressed.

• “Liv, for fuck’s sake! Clean your goddamn station!” he’s whisper shouting? Is that even a thing? oh look at that he’s got a full set of razor sharp teeth. huh. that’s a hell of an aesthetic he’s going for.

• The lady in question isn’t even giving him the time of day, just enthralled by her phone with a smile that looks too peaceful given what’s happening around her. She’s got wild hair tied up messily in a knitted bandana, weird glasses (custom made??) and when she glances up at aaron, her eyes widen in interest like he’s some anomaly to be cracked open. aaron looks anywhere that isnt the wild eyed lady at the counter.

• Theres another big guy that’s hanging around the back, heavily tattooed and lifting stacks of heavy boxes. Aaron takes notice of his prosthetic hand and the tattoo guy takes notice of Aaron.

• “Lonnie. Customer.” The Tattoo guy seems nonplussed about Aaron and walks into the back. aaron assumes that he’s offended him by staring at his prosthetic for longer than necessary which yeah….yeah he’s probably not happy about the staring.

• lonnie’s got a bad case of resting bitch face so he’s glaring at aaron without actually glaring and he’s just rough around ALL the edges so his tones got that nice bite to it as he shouts from across the counter (which is not something you do to a customer but it’s lonnie…..) "Hey! Ya looking for a job, skinny jeans?!“

• Aaron blanches at the idea of working with these people but he is absolutely desperate for a job at this point.

•"Yeah. I just got out of-”

•"Great, you’re hired! We’re speed running this whole introduction thing, string bean.“

•and that’s all i got other than like small details like:

•Peter B Parker owns a ”“’'cafe”“” across from Vanessa’s and its literally just a burger joint that h a p p e n s to sell coffee and Parker will fight you if you call his place a deli ahdhdj

•Liv and May are dating (big shock) and peter b has to constantly deal with seeing his competition over at his place all the time and it’s yikes

• Tombstone and Noir will 100% throw hands on contact. They don’t hate each other tho??? Its weird they just like to fight. gives them a chance to work on their banter i guess. Noir works the coffee machine at Peter’s “'cafe”’ so i guess he’s the “”barista”” of the joint but he drinks the coffee more than the customers do

• Miles and the rest of the spider kids “”“”“"intern”“”“” at the cafe which basically translates to free labor

• spider ham works there but he isnt a pig he’s just john mulaney. i know its weird. nobody actually sees him tho so he’s a complete mystery as to what he looks like so he could be john mulaney you never know. the only person who’s seen him is noir and that’s only bc they’re a thing???

•oh speaking of everyone being gay: everyone’s gay

• Lonnie and Gargan (tombstone and scorpion) are 100% dating but everyone legitimately thinks that the both of them are straight old men despite the fact that they live together, go to work together, hang out afterwards together, and they’re just always together

• lonnie’s daughter (janice) visits every other week (def the product of a divorce he went through years ago) she’s alright with gargan but she’s very distant towards her dad and def has that teen angst phase that she’s going through

• (lonnie can and will talk to you for hours about how much he loves and supports his daughter despite the fact that their relationship is very estranged)

• you can find janice hanging out with the cute blond punk girl at that weird burger/coffee place across the street

• oh gargan’s big and strong despite the fact that he’s missing three limbs, liv works in robotics on the side and constantly tweaks and repairs his prosthetics when they start acting up which leads to them having this weird friendship where they both borrow each other when they need something and dont really expect anything in return (like gargan’s good for getting her supplies and doing heavy lifting when she needs it and liv’s always down to run check ups on gargan)

• oh yeah liv used to be a scientist but immediately lost her license and phd when she started going above some board members heads to buy less than legal things through super illegal sources

.• that’s another thing, kingpin tends to just hire ex cons and criminals to work in his cafe just bc he believes that a person willing to work hard to better themselves deserves a chance to re enter society again.

• like they’ve all done bad things but still ended up with a job at the cafe. aaron fought a cop, liv did some shady deals for an illegal experiment, gargan used to run a drug ring years ago due to personal reasons but once he was free from jail he never dealt with the stuff again, and lonnie killed a dude (allegedly. he never went to jail bc they couldn’t prove anything but hey word spread around quick and everyone knew not to go anywhere near this guy)

• kingpin is in this au btw he’s just……a very depressed man who’s still grieving over his wife and son dying in a car accident

.• he rarely shows up to run the cafe bc its too much for him being in the place that his wife loved and built up from the ground. he used to be the manager after she died but couldn’t handle it and mostly left lonnie to take care of it

• which holy fuck lonnie is trying his best to keep this cafe alive and well and there’s only two other people working there so like its enough to have him scrambling all over the place trying to find more help (thanks aaron)

•miles doesn’t know aaron’s working at the cafe across the street and aaron def wants it that way bc even tho he’s out of jail he hasn’t actually……visited miles yet….. it’s the shame that’s keeping aaron from reaching out to him which is….sad bc miles doesn’t care what happened he just wants his uncle back.

• oh oh one more thing RIPeter used to run the deli across the street but had to leave brooklyn to go volunteer at homeless shelters across the states indefinitely so theres no telling when he’ll be back, so he left the cafe under the guidance of pb parker (peter b parker voice: my cafe now)

•and uhhh thats all i got, like i said this au is just found family trope + the healing we all want + bad people getting redemption which is all the tropes that i love all compacted together in the most cliche au you can imagine!

#itsv #aaron davis #the prowler #liv octavius #doctor octopus #lonnie lincoln #mac gargan #hi i work at a starbucks and it's hell so this is how i cope babey!!#spider verse #spiderman #the life and times of a robot prince

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sushigirlali · 5 years

Text

The Politics of Dancing - Part II (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Summary: Ben has known Rey most of her life, but when things change between them one tumultuous night, can he convince her that they have a future? Or will secret legacies, scheming parents, and fetching suitors get in the way?

Parings: Rey + Ben Solo|Kylo Ren, Finn + Rose Tico

Continuity: Regency AU

Rating: E

A/N: Sorry for the wait, friends, I haven’t been feeling very inspired lately. The Tumblr apocalypse and subsequent drop in activity has got me down. On the bright side, this story is now going to be a three-parter. This chapter was getting really long, so I decided to split it up. Enjoy!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

The Politics of Dancing - Part II

By: sushigirlali

——————

London, December 1818

——————

Peering over the rim of her crystal wine glass, Rey slowly sipped the sweet red liquid in lieu of answering Lady Shara Bey’s probing questions. Poe’s mother could be a little pushy, but Rey was too used to Leia’s brand of brazen self-confidence to be excessively offended by her lack of tact.

“Really, my dear, you must come visit Yavin after the new year,” Shara simpered. “We have the most picturesque landscapes and historical homes, not to mention a great number of fashionable neighbors to dine with.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but my father and I have plans to stay in town through Easter,” Rey said noncommittally, finishing her glass and signaling Artoo for another. I wonder if anyone would notice if I just kept the bottle. “Maybe another time, though,” she added, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

Appearing disappointed but not discouraged, Shara tried a new approach. “Did you know my son was recently titled Viscount of Yavin? His father will retain the title of Earl until his death, at which point the name will be bestowed upon Poe.”

Rey slanted her friend a look, trying not to laugh at his pained expression. “Congratulations, my lord.”

“He’s also incredible marksman, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his equal. In these dangerous times, it would certainly be reassuring to have someone as capable as him by your—”

“Rey can shoot just as well as any man,” Poe interrupted brusquely. “So, I don’t think she’s in need of a protector.”

“And what would you know about the needs of women?” Shara snapped, putting Poe on the defensive.

“Mother, can we not—”

Covering her friend’s hand where it rested on the table, Rey stepped in to head off a confrontation. “Poe understands me quite well, and I him, so there’s no need to be insulting, madam. He’s a credit to your house, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”

Lady Bey rounded on Rey, but their hostess cut her off before she could make a retort.

“Shara, would you mind switching seats with my husband?” Leia requested, seeming to materialize out of thin air. “I would so love to catch up with you.”

Leia’s tone was friendly, but her steely gaze made it clear that she wasn’t asking.

“I—yes, Leia, that would be lovely,” Shara said stiffly, dropping her napkin as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Niima.” She gave her son a small nod. “Poe, I’m…I’ll see you later.”

He inclined his head, but didn’t speak again until she was out of earshot. “Thanks, Rey,” he said under his breath.

“No problem,” she returned, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

Following Leia and Shara’s progress toward the head of the table, Rey was unsurprised to find Ben staring in her direction. What did surprise her, however, was the automatic rush of heat that raced up her spine just from making eye contact with the man.

Tilting her head, Rey studied his unique features, admiring the way his inky black hair fell wild around his pale face, the silky strands sticking out at odd angles were her searching fingers had sifted through them earlier. He wasn’t classically handsome, not in the way Poe was, but Rey found his too large ears and deep-set eyes and slightly crooked nose ridiculously tempting.

Not to mention that scar, she hummed, tracing the faded mark with appreciative hazel orbs.

He’d been a hellraiser in his youth, and she’d idolized him because of it. So many society men were afraid to be themselves, to be real, but not Ben Solo. He was outspoken and honest, even when he probably shouldn’t be. If she’d been a man, Rey liked to think that she would have followed in Ben’s footsteps.

Well, maybe not literally, she allowed, sizing him up. His height and build were so far out of the norm that he stood out in any room. Especially tonight.

Ben looked dashing in his neatly tailored black coat and trousers, the custom-made vestments showing off his long legs and broad shoulders to perfection. Still, Rey couldn’t help but picture his powerful body stripped of all finery on black sheets, just the way she’d seen him last night.

So manly, so beautiful…

The longer she surveyed him, the more she wanted to crawl across the table and slide into his lap; to feel his thickly muscled arms wrapped around her again as she devoured those sinfully full lips…

Get ahold of yourself, Rey! she chided, feeling her nipples stiffen behind the thin fabric of her chemise. Now is not the time to be letting your imagination run wild!

But it was too late. As if sensing her wicked thoughts, Ben’s dark gaze fell to her breasts, scraping across her taut peaks like he owned them. Why did I decide to forego a corset again? Cursing her lack of appropriate undergarments, Rey crossed her arms and prayed that he was the only one who’d noticed her wanton behavior.

Stop looking at me like that, she mouthed, fighting down the heat rising in her cheeks.

No, he replied with a smug smile, obviously amused by her blatant response.

Why, you—

“Hey, kid!”

Rey jumped as Han dropped into Lady Bey’s empty seat. “Uncle!”

“Sorry about that,” Han chortled, patting her on the shoulder, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s quite alright, sir,” she said, playfully wrinkling her nose at him. Maybe I should tie a bell around your neck just in case, though. That’s twice now you’ve snuck up on me tonight, a third time could be disastrous.

“And you, Lord Dameron, how is your evening going?” Han courteously inquired.

“Whatever the opposite of festive is,” Poe deadpanned, lifting his glass in salute.

“Yes, the atmosphere is rather tense for a yuletide celebration,” Han said jovially, reaching past Rey to click his glass against the Viscount’s. “I apologize for any consternation you might have felt due to my wife’s meddling. She can be a bit overzealous when it comes to the art of matchmaking.” He threw a wink at Rey. “Especially where my darling niece is concerned.”

“Uncle,” she groaned, “not you too!”

“Now, now, Rey, I just think—” Han stopped short as See-Threepio dragged a serving cart laden with at least five different cuts of meat and several sauces into the room. “I just think we should talk about this after dinner. Heaven forbid we let all this incredible food go to waste!”

Saved by the second course!

Rey thought irreverently.

Good thing Han prefers food to lectures…

——————

Gripping his goblet tightly enough to shatter it, Ben glared at the perfect picture his lover made sitting next to Lord Dameron: her pretty white dress and sun-kissed complexion playing nicely off his black hair and formal attire. Rey and the newly appointed Viscount looked good together and he hated it.

Since when are they more than mere acquaintances, anyway? he sulked, annoyed by how well they seemed to be getting on. What could they possibly have in common? Ben’s brow furrowed as Rey slid her hand over Dameron’s. And why the hell is she touching him?!

While they weren’t enemies per se, the older man had been a thorn in his side since university. Popular more for his personality than his wealth, something Ben had always been sensitive about, Poe had been his rival in everything from fencing to making friends, but up until tonight, they’d never pursued the same woman.

First Johnson, now Dameron, Ben frowned. Is Rey friendly with every eligible bachelor in the county? How many other men do I have to compete with?

Unused to feeling anything but supreme confidence, Ben tried to reign in his riotous emotions. It wasn’t Rey’s fault that he’d been supplanted as her dinner date, after all, that honor belonged to his interfering mother. Having long given up trying to arrange the love life of her only son, it appeared that Leia had moved onto her niece. Unfortunately for the Skywalker matriarch, Rey had a mind of her own.

Good luck, mother. That little spitfire has an independent streak a mile wide and I very much doubt you’ll be able to exert influence over any facet of her life. Ben took a thoughtful swig of ale. Besides, Rey would never allow herself to be bullied into anyone’s bed. She’s always been adamant that only the deepest love would induce her into…into…oh!

All at once, Ben realized that sneaking into his room had been a declaration of sorts, an admittance of Rey’s feelings and intentions toward him. At the time, he’d been too eager to possess her to pick up on the significance of her actions, but now, recalling the way Rey’s beautiful body had tangled with his, practically shouting how much she loved him, Ben felt like a fool for not being more perceptive.

We made love from one side of the room to the other, locked together for endless hours in our own little world and yet, somehow, I failed to see the sentiment behind her surrender. Ben marveled at his own stupidity. But what does she want long-term? To become my mistress? My wife? Or was last night just a passing fancy?

He supposed he should be wary of getting in too deep too fast, but he wasn’t. Beyond her boldness in the bedroom, Rey’s jealousy on the dance floor and subsequent ardor on the veranda gave credence to the notion that she felt more than simple desire for him.

Is this love then? he mused. It could be. We’re good together. Ben paused. No, better than good. We’re fantastic together. Amazing, even. Hell, we barely took time to breath let alone consider the consequences, and I…I…oh, shite! Ben cursed as realization struck. I completely neglected to take precautions with her!

Regardless of who bewitched whom, Rey had come to his bed untouched, putting the onus on him to protect her from potential repercussions. But he hadn’t; he’d put her at risk. She could be carrying my child even now. I want her, but am I ready for that kind of responsibility? he wondered.

Only vaguely aware of his mother standing up beside him and moving around the table to speak with Lady Bey, Ben allowed himself to envision what life would be like with Rey by his side. They could ride together, like when they were younger, read to each other in the library, have hours long discussions over dinner…and make love every night. There was so much he could teach her, so much she could teach him…and if she was pregnant, well…

The more he mulled over the idea, the less terrifying the prospect of fatherhood became. We might have twins, a boy to going shooting with Rey and a girl to practice calligraphy with me. They’d have freckled cheeks and dark hair and big hazel eyes…

As the appealing image formed in his mind, Ben decided that irrespective of what his mother or Luke had in mind, the only way Rey was getting engaged to someone other than him this holiday season was over his dead body.

——————

For as long as she’d known Ben Solo, he’d never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. But in the past few hours, he’d admitted to being jealous of Finn, nearly seduced her on the dance floor and then on the patio, and now he was giving Poe dark looks as well.

What is going on? Rey stared down at her plate, pushing her venison around without really seeing it. It’s not like we’re engaged or anything, and he hasn’t once mentioned love, so why is he acting so territorial? I need to get him alone again and—

“I wonder what’s wrong with Lord Ren this evening,” Poe said, voicing her concerns.

Rey schooled her features, hoping no one else had noticed Ben’s strange behavior. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t you? Ren looks like he’s contemplating murder every time he glances in my direction. Have I done something wrong or is the wild mushroom soup not to his liking?” he inquired.

“Well, he does hate mushrooms,” she said drolly. I’m not sure how he feels about you, though.

“I’ll just assume the soup is the most likely culprit, then,” Poe chuckled. “What a relief! I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of my old schoolmate; he’s a real fire-eater.”

“You have no idea,” Rey mumbled, knowing full well how it felt to burn up in Ben’s arms.

Something in her tone must have given her away because Poe looked suddenly suspicious. “Is there something you want to tell me about you and Lord Ren?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she denied, glad that Han appeared to be lost in conversation with Baroness Kanata. Please, keep him busy for me, Maz, because I don’t think Poe is going to let this go.

“No? Judging by your behavior, and Ren’s, there seems to have been a development in your relationship since the last time we spoke,” he said speculatively.

“You’re just imagining things,” Rey gulped, reaching for her wine. He’s definitely not going to let this go.

“Careful, love,” Poe cautioned, gently steadying her hand to keep her from knocking over the nearly full glass of claret.

“Thanks,” she said sheepishly, setting it down again without taking a sip.

“You’re welcome.” Then, more seriously, “Even if you don’t want to tell me now, just know that you can always confide in me, Rey. I’m no gossip.”

“I know,” she replied solemnly. “You’ve trusted me with so much about your own life, but I—I’m scared. I did something brash last night, something that could have lasting consequences...”

“Rey, I’m sure whatever you did is—”

“I seduced Ben,” Rey confessed in a rush. “I don’t know what came over me, but I went into his room and took my nightgown off and I—we—and it was wonderful—but now he’s acting strange and possessive and I don’t know what to do!”

Poe hid it well, but she could tell that she’d shocked him. “You went to him?”

Rey squared her shoulders, determined to take responsibility for her actions. “I did.”

“And he didn’t turn you away?” he said in surprise.

She shook her head, puzzled. “Should he have?”

“Not necessarily,” Poe said without judgement. “Ren must want you very much to risk being ostracized by his own family, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“I can’t imagine Lord Skywalker will be pleased that his nephew deflowered his adoptive daughter,” he said bluntly.

“But it wasn’t Ben’s fault!” she protested. “I seduced him, remember?!”

“Rey, Ren is a man. An experienced man, at that. I can assure you that it will matter very little to your father whether you initiated the situation or not,” Poe said plainly. “Skywalker may not be very traditional, but he’s still your guardian.”

“Oh, I…hadn’t thought about it that way,” Rey grimaced. “What should I do then? I can’t imagine not seeing Ben anymore, but I don’t want to hurt Luke either.”

“As long as you’re discreet, I wouldn’t worry about it too much about it for now,” he offered. “Your father doesn’t strike me as particularly perceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“No, he’s not,” she agreed. “There’s always been something between Ben and I, a special connection as it were, but I don’t think Luke has ever noticed.” Rey relaxed a little. “Thanks, Poe.”

He waved away her gratitude, looking mischievous. “So…” he muttered, leaning close, “did you enjoy yourself?”

“That’s none of your business!” she blushed, surveying the table to make sure no one was listening, least of all her wayward relatives.

“Of course it’s not,” Poe conceded, lowering his voice. “But did you?”

Rey bit her lip, vacillating on whether or not she should answer.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to repeat anything you say, no matter how raunchy.”

“I know you won’t,” she sighed, playing along. “Alright, yes. I enjoyed myself. Immensely.”

“And he didn’t hurt you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, the experience was…umm…satisfying.”

“Good.”

“Is that all?” Rey said sarcastically. “Any other personal details you’d like to know?”

“Just one,” he said dryly. “Do you want to sleep with him again?”

“Poe!”

“In for a penny, in for a pound?” he grinned.

“Well, I—I wouldn’t say no,” she stammered.

“And what about him? Do you think he still wants you too?”

“I don’t know,” she said evasively.

“Rey.”

“Maybe?”

“You don’t know?” he teased. “I could always go ask Ren directly, I suppose.”

“Don’t you dare!” she yelped. “Yes, okay?! Happy now?”

“Are you?” Poe asked rather pointedly.

Rey was quite for a moment, caught off-guard. “You know, I think I am,” she said in amazement. “I think Ben’s wanted me for a long time; maybe even as long as I’ve wanted him. He was careful to never let on, you see, but by the way he performed last night…”

“Then you know what you have to do,” he said with a playful wink.

“I do?” she said bemusedly.

“Really, Rey?” Poe rolled his eyes. “If you’d like to continue your…relationship, I suggest you ask Lord Ren to make an honest woman out of you first.”

“Marriage?” she gasped.

“Is there another word for satisfying your natural urges without societal contempt?”

“But I’m nobody,” Rey asserted. “Why would Ben want to marry me?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said sternly. “Earl Johnson said you’ve been made Luke’s legal heir. If that doesn’t make you more attractive on the marital market, I don’t know what will.”

“But I don’t want him—or anyone—to fancy me simply because I may or may not be inheriting a fortune,” she frowned. “And I really do wish Finn would stop spreading that rumor around. I haven’t even discussed it with—”

Rey stopped speaking as Artoo came around to remove their dinner plates and set the table for dessert.

“Buck up, darling.” Poe pushed back his chair. “You’ve always felt a special connection with Ren, right? I’m sure he feels it too.”

“Perhaps, but where are you going,” she said sharply.

“The loo,” he laughed. “Sorry, love, but nature calls.”

Rey worried her lip. “But what if Ben approaches me while you’re gone?”

“I’m sure you can handle him, Rey. You’re no shrinking violet.”

“I know,” she snorted. “It’s just…he makes me so crazy sometimes that I want to—”

“Kiss him? Marry him? Bear his children?”

“Now that would be telling.”

——————

A/N: I’m actually kind of hoping that the title to EPIX is such a spoiler that they’re not even going to tell us what it is! I don’t know, I just think it would be super exciting to go into the movie with a little surprise dropped into the title scrawl XD Thanks for reading! Please review!

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #regency au #happy Christmas in feburary #lolz #my fanfiction #my art #sushigirlali #the politics of dancing #pregnancy #reylo baby #maybe #we'll see #just tagging to be safe

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

Text

The Curious Case of Dr. Sludgelove and His Awesome Cosmic Adventures

~By Billy Goate~

There's something to be said for the enduring power of a Stanley Kubrick film. There's no denying his potent storytelling, especially when it's inspiring a new generation of bands to write music about 2001: A Space Odyssey. I mean, wasn't that movie released in the late-60s? It's tech is dated, as are much of the effects, yet here we have young musicians writing minor epics about Dave's star-tripping Jupiter run, raging apes, and that gosh-darned monolith. Hmmm, well if you look at your typical Sunn Amp, it's no wonder. Thing is a picture of solitary grandeur, to say nothing of its omnipotent, knee-bending sonority.

In our last globe-hopping journey, we landed in Mexico City where we met a band called MOONWATCHER, known to project scenes from the film while playing open amphitheaters at the dead of night. Our travels next take us to Hungary, a scene I've sorely neglected over the years. More specifically, we're going right into the heart of the action: Budapest. It's the birthplace of the great pianist-composer Franz Liszt, who is arguably the first rock star for taking his solo piano performances on the road, which ignited the swooning throngs.

Some of you may have been exposed to the Hungarian doom-stoner sound already and not even realized it. Bands like Apey and the Pea, for example, have demonstrated that Hungarians like their music spicy, served up with verve and gusto. I decided it would be a good time to open up the window and take give you all a peek at this world through the eyes of a band I stumbled upon at random a few weeks back, who endeared themselves to me almost from the start with their name: Dr. Sludgelove. C'mon, how can you not love it?

Another thing I admire about the band is their dedication to concept. The presser they sent out was helpfully annotated with scene-by-scene narration of each track, which I've decided to share with you as I walk you through them. Finally, we're going to meet the band and find out what they can tell us about what it's like to be Doomed & Stoned on their side of the planet. Buckle up, boys. We're about to take a ride with a pair of wild men out into the final frontier.

Dr. Sludgelove is:

János Papp

Attila Temesvári

János Paronai

This is the story of their excursion into the universe of Stanley Kubrick, relayed in their own words.

My Space Odyssey

I. Dawn of Man

This is the first song off of Dr. Sludgelove's debut album, inspired by the Stanley Kubrick movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. In this song, humanity has just been born. Apes are living their everyday lives, which is just about struggling, fighting for food, and finding a place to sleep. They gather into groups -- the groups are fighting with each other, as well. The Earth during these times is very unfriendly place, with big and wrathful storms. Green can be found barely in this region and the vegetation is not very rich.

At some time, in the morning a big black prism is just appearing in front of our group at the ape cave. The shape, color, and smell is just something that has never ever been seen on this planet before. It is a monolith. An ape shows interest at once, as he caught sight of it. He moves closer, wants to touch it, but at the same time he is afraid of the unknown. He starts to dance around it. Others are appearing, as well, but they have bigger fears and choose to watch him from a decent distance. After a while, our hero just decides to tap on it. Then after some quick taps, he constantly touches the Monolith, but nothing visible seems to happen.

My Space Odyssey by Dr. Sludgelove

After some days, the ape finds some bones of a guinea pig, which are just lying in front of him. He starts to play with a piece, but he realizes after a while what he can do with it. He holds it high, then smites it with all his power. At this moment, he realizes how to use something to achieve bigger force than he is able to provide with his bare hands. He has just started to use a tool! This is also the start of the intellect, which drives humanity to reach bigger and bigger improvements. The Monolith gives the possibility of having a better, more developed life than the miserable life of apes. This moment starts everything, a pathway to the modern person's future.

II. Discovery One

In this second song, humanity is in space, travelling between planets in the Solar System. There is a base at the Moon, which can be visited by the average person, as well. Traveling in space is not such a big thing any more.

My Space Odyssey by Dr. Sludgelove

After discovering the Monolith in the surface of the Moon, a group of elite astronauts and scientists start their travel to the planet Jupiter to discover an anomaly, marked by the Monolith on the Moon. Most of the scientists are in hibernation, though two astronauts are awake during the long journey to supervise. An artificial intelligence, called HAL9000 is supporting them, dealing with all the low level controls of the spaceship.

III. HAL-9000

In this song, HAL-9000 reveals his true colors, as he tries to kill all astronauts on the spaceship. Dave Bowman, the last astronaut, decides to switch off HAL's intelligence to stop its influence controlling the whole ship's whole ecosystem. During the switching off operation, Dave needs to wear a spacesuit, as maybe HAL will try to kill him by providing no oxygen. Because of the spacesuit, we can hear Dave breathe during the entire track. This gives a sense of great tension to the whole song and originally for the movie scene, as well. We can hear as HAL tries to convince Dave that everything is alright and it will have no problems continuing the mission successfully.

My Space Odyssey by Dr Sludgelove

In the meantime, Dave pulls out computer cards from HAL's central unit, so HAL gets more and more simple-minded. At a certain point, HAL tries to convince Dave by appealing to his emotions as it states it is AFRAID! During Dave's actions, the music is heavy, a really metallic riff suggests that Dave is doing some harmful thing to HAL. When Dave finishes with the shutting down process, HAL goes into standby mode. Then he starts to "sing." This is the first thing that was taught to HAL back in the day, when it was created by its instructor, Mr. Langley.

IV. Alone Into The Void

After Dave Bowman successfully switches down HAL9000's high-level functionality, he continues the mission and heads towards the direction of Jupiter to investigate the enormously big copy of the Monolith found in the Moon. This is the focus of the fourth song. His colleague Frank Pool and all of the scientists held in deep hibernation were killed by HAL 9000 and the connection to Earth is also cut.

My Space Odyssey by Dr Sludgelove

During the long journey, therefore, he is really alone. The way to Jupiter lasts for long months. He tries to focus on the mission, but because he is lacking communication partner, Dave thinks a lot about his future, what he will find next to Jupiter, how the Monolith will behave, what will happen when he encounters it. A lot of questions and a lot of pressure on him and the prospect of the unknown drives him to depression, as he prepares to meet his doom.

V. My God, It Is Full of Stars!

For the fifth song, astronaut Dave Bowman encounters the Monolith. He says the following phrase just before losing contact with Mission Control: “The thing’s hollow -- it goes on forever -- and -- oh my God! -- it’s full of stars!”

My Space Odyssey by Dr Sludgelove

During the journey, he sees these stars as flashes, as the known three dimensional world falls apart. Time, direction, and all the usual physics does not make sense here anymore. Bowman is transported via the Monolith to an unknown star system, through a large interstellar switching station, and sees other species' spaceships going on other routes. Bowman is given a wide variety of sights, from the wreckage of ancient civilizations to what appear to be life-forms living on the surfaces of a binary star system planet.

VI. Death of Man, Born of The Starchild

After a journey through the wormhole, Dave Bowman finally arrives during the last song. The Monolith creates an environment for Dave to exist in that would not harm him in any way, making it look like a hotel room filled with familiar items to assuage any fear and appear welcoming.

Dave can't believe what he sees, but leaves the pod and explores the room in his suit. He sees the telephone and telephone book, but the phone doesn't work and the telephone book is blank.

He explores more and finds the refrigerator, where there is a variety of packaged food, but it is all "blue substance, about the weight and texture of bread pudding. Apart from its odd color, it looked quite appetizing." There are clothes in the closet, which are a bit out of date for Dave's time.

My Space Odyssey by Dr Sludgelove

Dave decides to trust the environment. "But this is ridiculous," Bowman tells himself in the novelization by Arthur C. Clarke. "I am almost certainly being watched, and I must look an idiot wearing this suit. If this is some kind of intelligence test, I've probably failed already. Without further hesitation, he walked back into the bedroom and began to undo the clamp of his helmet. When it was loose, he lifted the helmet a fraction of an inch, cracked the seal and took a cautious sniff. As far as he could tell, he was breathing perfectly normal air." He eats the blue food and drinks the water, showers, dresses, and he turns on the television.

Refreshed and exhausted, Dave lies down on the bed, turns off the light and "...for the last time, David Bowman slept." The Power behind the Monolith then transforms Dave into the Starchild, the next evolution of man.

Encounter With Dr. Sludgelove

I'm afraid 'My Space Odyssey' has only whet our appetite for more from Dr. Sludgelove. Where does the band go from here?

We are just starting to dive into the Hungarian stoner/doom/sludge scene. Our first release is more than a year old, but the needed band members have just been recruited. We started to rehearse and were able to find rehearsal room, so a lot of technical problems were solved in the last few months. Now we are planning gigs more gigs, after performing for the first time in this configuration during the spring. We are mostly close to Baby Gorilla Records and bands like Third Planet and Lanterni. We are planning gigs together first in Budapest, after that probably in some bigger cities around the country. Our one year goal is to be a band in Hungary that's invited to support a bigger foreign name, when such an act comes to play here. Our second album also will come out around the summertime, with the help of the sound engineer of the well-known band Red Swamp. Also merchandise, CD, and cassette releases are planned.

You mentioned a couple bands from the Hungarian scene. What are some others that doomers and stoners might check out?

Maybe the biggest name nowadays is Apey and the Pea. They usually play to sold out parties in Budapest, tour the whole country, and perform in foreign countries and festivals more and more. Their first releases were more grunge and stoner, then they delved into doom and sludge. Their most recent release is sludgier and contains thrash elements, as well. They are the best in Hungary right now.

Some other names worth checking out are Red Swamp, Lemurian Folk Songs, Űrhajó, Grizzly, Lanterni, Entrópia Architektúra, Alone in the Moon, Mighty Manlifter, and Third Planet, just to name a few top of mind.

For outside bands looking to tour through Hungary, what are some good booking agencies?

There is Baby Gorilla Records -- overall, really nice guys. They are managing and representing around 8-10 bands in the stoner, sludge, doom, noise, and prog rock subgenres. Also dealing with record releasing, of course, in addition to artwork, and organizing label nights, where their bands are usually supporting bigger names from foreign lands. While we're not on their label roster, we played one of their label nights in May, supporting the British band Famyne.

Thulsa Doom Booking is another one. They organize gigs for smaller foreign bands. Also they have their own group of bands, which they manage. They organize the underground festival called Thulsa Doom Fest, which you might have heard of.

Cudi Purci Booking is a bigger fish in this pond. They organize gigs with big foreign bands in the genre, like Elder, High on Fire, that kind of thing. They also organize the so-called Desszert Fest in Hungary.

What are some places that people like to hang there?

So, I'm listing some places where metalheads usually go out. Durerkert hosts a lot of live gigs in all rock and metal genres. This is a really cool place, we like it very much.

BARhole Music is the place where today's "rock stars" go to hang out in Budapest. If you want to meet with members from bands like Apey and the Pea, you will likely bump into them there.

Három Holló is a coffee house and restaurant at daytime, a cultural gathering at night -- including host to a lot of heavy music gigs and festivals.

Gólya is a cozy little place, which has lots of possibilities for smaller bands in our genre to perform live.

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