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homomenhommes · 4 months

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 7

Bayeux Tapestry - hawking

1130 – On this date the medieval poet Baldric Of Dol died (b.circa 1050). He was abbot of Bourgueil from 1079 to 1106, then bishop of Dol-en-Bretagne from 1107 until his death.

Balderic's poetic works were written almost entirely while abbot at Bourgueil. The 256 extant poems are found almost exclusively in a single contemporary manuscript which is most likely an authorized copy. They consist of a wide range of poetic forms ranging from epitaphs, riddles and epistolary poems to longer pieces such as an interpretative defense of Greek mythology. A praise poem for Adela of Normandy describes something very like the Bayeux Tapestry within its 1,368 lines. Two themes dominate his works: desire/friendship (amor)—including paedophiliac—and game/poetry (iocus).

In his collection My Dear Boy: Gay Love Letters through the Centuries, the scholar Rictor Norton publishes Baldric's many letters to male lovers.

1829 – William Maxwell is the last English sailor hanged for sodomy.

1899 – Francis Poulenc, French composer (d.1963); Poulenc was one of the first out Gay composers. His first serious relationship was with painter Richard Chanlaire to whom he dedicated his Concert champêtre: "You have changed my life, you are the sunshine of my thirty years, a reason for living and working." He also once said, "You know that I am as sincere in my faith, without any messianic screamings, as I am in my Parisian sexuality."

Poulenc also had a number of relationships with women. He fathered a daughter, Marie-Ange, although he never formally admitted that he was indeed her father. He was also a very close friend of the singer Pierre Bernac for whom he wrote many songs; some sources have hinted that this long friendship had sexual undertones; however, the now-published correspondence between the two men strongly suggests that this was not the case.

Poulenc's life was one of inner struggle. Having been born and raised a Roman Catholic, he struggled throughout his life between coming to terms with his "unorthodox" sexual "appetites" and maintaining his religious convictions.

Poulenc was profoundly affected by the death of friends. First came the death of the young woman he had hoped to marry, Raymonde Linossier. While Poulenc admitted to having no sexual interest in Linossier, they had been lifelong friends. Then, in 1923 he was "unable to do anything" for two days after the death from typhoid fever of his 20-year old friend, novelist Raymond Radiguet, Jean Cocteau's lover. However, two weeks later he had moved on, joking to Sergei Diaghilev at the rehearsals he was unable to leave, about helping a dancer "warm up."

In 1936, Poulenc was profoundly affected by the death of another composer, Pierre-Octave Ferroud, who was decapitated in an automobile accident in Hungary. This led him to his first visit to the shrine of the Black Virgin of Rocamadour. Here, before the statue of the Madonna with a young child on her lap, Poulenc experienced a life-changing transformation. Thereafter his work took on more religious themes, beginning with the Litanies à la vierge noire (1936). In 1949, Poulenc experienced the death of another friend, the artist Christian Bérard, for whom he composed his Stabat Mater (1950).

Poulenc died of heart failure in Paris on 30 January 1963 and is buried at the Père Lachaise Cemetery.

1917 – Alfred Freedman (d.2011), who was responsible for removing homosexuality from the list of mental illnesses, was born in Albany, New York. After earning his undergraduate degree at Cornell University in 1937, Freedman graduated from the University of Minnesota Medical School in 1941. He began an internship at Harlem Hospital but left before completion to enlist in the United States Army Air Corps. He left the service having attained the rank of Major.

After initially studying neuropsychology, Freedman trained in both general and child psychiatry, undertaking a residency at Bellevue Hospital. He became the chief of child psychiatry at the SUNY Downstate Medical Center, a post in which he served for five years, before becoming the first person to serve full-time as the department of psychiatry Chairman at New York Medical College, a post which he held for 30 years.

In 1972, Freedman was approached by the Committee of Concerned Psychiatrists, a group of young reform-minded doctors, who encouraged him to run for the presidency of the American Psychiatric Association. He won the election by 3 votes out of some 9,000 that were cast.

In his position as president, Freedman immediately supported a resolution offered by Robert L. Spitzer to delete homosexuality from the list of mental illness diagnoses. On December 15, 1973, the APA's board of trustees voted 13—0 in favor of the resolution, which stated that "by itself, homosexuality does not meet the criteria for being a psychiatric disorder" and that "We will no longer insist on a label of sickness for individuals who insist that they are well and demonstrate no generalized impairment in social effectiveness."

LGBT rights organizations have hailed this decision as one of the greatest advances for gay equality in the United States. Freedman himself believed that passing this resolution was the most important accomplishment of his one-year tenure as president. A second resolution called for an end to discrimination based on sexual orientation and the repeal of laws against consensual gay sex.

Alfred Freedman died in Manhattan on April 17, 2011, following complications after surgery to treat a hip fracture.

1946 – Jann Wenner is the co-founder and publisher of the music and politics biweekly Rolling Stone, as well as the current owner of Men's Journal and Us Weekly magazines.

In 1967, Wenner and Ralph J. Gleason founded Rolling Stone in San Francisco. To get the magazine off the ground, Wenner borrowed $7,500 from family members and from the family of his soon-to-be wife, Jane Schindelheim. In the summer following the start of the magazine, Wenner and Schindelheim were married in a small Jewish ceremony.

In 1995, Wenner found himself in the middle of a media storm when it was revealed that he was leaving his wife Jane after more than 25 years of marriage and had become involved in a relationship with Matt Nye, a former male model turned fashion designer. Wenner's outing, which may or may not have been at his own instigation, seems to have had little effect on his business empire, but it inspired a number of accusations regarding an alleged "Velvet Mafia" of powerful closeted gay men.

Although it had long been rumored that Wenner's marriage was an "open" one and gossip of his bisexuality was widespread and had been mentioned in gay magazines, in 1995 he was publicly outed—on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, no less—when the newspaper revealed that Wenner had left his wife of 28 years for Nye, a considerably younger man who was a former Calvin Klein underwear model.

Rumors of an alleged conspiracy to suppress the news began to circulate. Several journalists reported that the so-called "Velvet Mafia"—a coterie of powerful media, entertainment, and fashion executives who are reputedly gay—had threatened to pull advertising from any publication that wrote about the breakup.

1977 – John Gidding is a Turkish-American architect, television personality, and former fashion model.

Gidding was born in Istanbul, Turkey to an American father and a Turkish mother. He lived in Turkey until moving to the United States for college after attending Leysin American School in Leysin, Switzerland. He graduated from Yale University in 1999 with a BA in architecture, then the Harvard Graduate School of Design with a Master's in architecture.

At Yale he sang a cappella with The Society of Orpheus and Bacchus, and choral music with the Yale Glee Club, and at Harvard he sang with the Harvard-Radcliffe Collegium Musicum. He was voted one of "Yale's 50 Most Beautiful People" in 1999 by Rumpus Magazine, one of "Boston's 50 Most Eligible Bachelors" by The Improper Bostonian in 2002, one of "Atlanta's 50 Most Beautiful People" by Jezebel Magazine and as one of Atlanta Homes and Lifestyles's "Emerging Talent: Twenty Under 40" in 2008.

He is openly gay and, as of August 2013, married to dancer Damian Smith.

Gidding started modeling in 2000 as a graduate student, performing runway shows for Armani, Gucci, and Hugo Boss before being represented by Wilhelmina Models in New York City. He's also been on the covers of numerous romance novels.

Gidding moved to New York City where he started John Gidding Design, Inc. after working for two years as a landscape architect for Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates.

Gidding's start in television was with the ABC Family TV show Knock First, where he and three other designers took turns making over teenagers' bedrooms. Designed to Sell (Giddings' previous show from 2006 to 2011) was canceled in early 2011 but still airs repeats on HGTV, and Knock First is still running in syndication internationally.

He is currently best known for being the architect-designer on Curb Appeal:The Block where his team spends $20,000 on improvements to the exterior landscaping of chosen homeowners. Less expensive touch-ups are done for 2 or 3 nearby neighbors' homes to improve overall neighborhood property values.

1990 – Michael Sam is an American football defensive end. He attended the University of Missouri, where he played college football for the Missouri Tigers football team for four years. Recruited by a number of colleges, he accepted a scholarship with Missouri. He was a consensus All-American and the Southeastern Conference Defensive Player of the Year as a senior.

Sam is the seventh of eight children born to JoAnn and Michael Sam, Sr. His parents separated when he was young. As a child, Sam watched one of his older brothers die from a gunshot wound. Another older brother has been missing since 1998, and his other two brothers are both imprisoned. A sister who was born before him died in infancy. At one point in his childhood, Sam lived in his mother's car. He was once accidentally maced by police who were arresting one of his brothers.

Sam argued with his mother over playing football, as she did not agree with those pursuits. Sam often stayed with friends while in high school; the parents of a classmate gave him a bedroom in their house and had him complete household chores. Sam is the first member of his family to attend college.

After completing his college football career, Sam publicly came out as gay. If he were to be signed by a National Football League (NFL) team, which analysts think is likely, he would become the first active NFL player to have declared his homosexuality publicly.

In August 2013, Sam took the opportunity of a team introduce-yourself session to inform his Missouri teammates that he was gay, and found them supportive. He avoided talking to the media to avoid addressing rumors of his sexuality. He came out to his father a week before coming out publicly. The New York Times wrote that his father, a self-described "old-school ... man-and-a-woman type of guy", said "I don’t want my grandkids raised in that kind of environment." His father told the Galveston Daily News that he was "terribly misquoted", though The Times maintained that he was quoted "accurately and fairly."

On February 9, 2014, he announced that he was gay in an interview with Chris Connelly on ESPN's Outside the Lines, becoming one of the first publicly out college football players. If he is drafted in the 2014 NFL Draft or signed by an NFL team as an undrafted free agent, he could become the first active player who was publicly out in NFL history. Though he was projected as a third- or fourth-round pick in the NFL Draft, anonymous NFL executives told Sports Illustrated that they expect Sam to fall in the draft as a result of his announcement. Those statements caused National Football League Players Association executive director DeMaurice Smith to respond that any team official who anonymously downgrades Sam is "gutless". From jail, his brother Josh said "I'm proud of him for not becoming like me. I still love him, whatever his lifestyle is. He's still my brother and I love him."

On February 15, Sam returned to Missouri with the Tigers football team to accept the 2014 Cotton Bowl championship trophy at a ceremony held at the halftime of a Missouri Tigers basketball game at Mizzou Arena. It was the first visit to his alma mater since he came out as gay. Anti-gay activist Shirley Phelps-Roper and about 15 other members of the Westboro Baptist Church, an organization widely considered a hate group, protested his appearance. Students organized a counter-protest numbering in the hundreds if not thousands, assembling a "human wall" in front of the protesters.

In May, 2014, Sam was drafted by St Louis Rams. He celebrated with a kiss for his boyfriend Vito Cammisano at an NFL draft party. The kiss went viral.

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biglisbonnews · 1 year

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Revealing the Risqué Art of Pompeii’s House of the Vettii The House of the Vettii is one of the most important and spectacular sites in Pompeii. Its nearly 12,000 square feet are replete with bronze and marble sculptures, and its courtyard garden once boasted 12 spurting fountains—all of them stilled by the volcanic eruption that buried the city in 79. Elaborate frescoes adorning the mansion’s walls, which depict characters and stories from mythology, have elicited careful study by archeologists, classicists and historians since the site’s excavation in the mid 1890s. And this year, after a restoration that took two decades, its treasures are newly accessible to the public, in all their colorful detail. And we do mean colorful: Take the portrait of Priapus, the god of fertility, whose tumescent member is roughly the size of his forearm. In an apparently boastful display, he weighs it with a handheld scale against a bag of coins. Peek at the fresco of a man and woman in flagrante delicto on the wall of a small room that was used as the cook’s bedroom—or perhaps, some scholars argue, as a small brothel. What seems titillating to us, however, was a little more prosaic to the Romans. “It really shocks people when they see images of lovemaking on the walls,” notes Steven Tuck, a classics professor at Miami University of Ohio, who drew heavily from the House of the Vettii for his popular textbook, A History of Roman Art. “It forces us to realize that these people are not just people like us wearing togas. They have a completely different set of cultural values.” The specific Romans who inhabited the House of the Vettii were Aulus Vettius Restitutus and Aulus Vettius Conviva, wine merchants who made their fortunes after being freed from slavery. (Though they’re often called “brothers,” it is unknown whether they were related by blood, or simply grew up as slaves in the same household.) Their path to prosperity was not an uncommon one—the House of the Vettii dates to a time when a self-made aristocracy, including many former slaves, was growing in Pompeii. “It was certainly true that you could have an absolutely hideous life as a slave,” says David Potter, a professor of Greek and Roman history at the University of Michigan, “but there’s also a major path of social advancement, because slaves are educated in a rich person’s house.” The Vettii, who like many Roman slaves would have been freed in their early 20s, likely lived here with their wives and families, Potter says. In Roman society, women and men socialized in the same spaces, and both genders would have experienced erotic paintings and sculptures as conversation pieces perfectly fit for polite company. Priapus symbolized male power and virility, but he was also the enemy of thieves, as well as a humorous figure that might have made guests smile. “What you’re saying with this picture is, ‘Priapus looks after us because we’ve made a lot of money,’” Potter says. “But with the scale, it’s also a natural joke.” Erotic art has been turning up at Pompeii since excavations began in the 18th century. At first, the naughtier pieces would be spirited off to the Gabinetto Segreto (Secret Cabinet) in Naples, away from the innocent eyes of the general public. The House of Vettii, however, was one of the first sites to be unearthed using modern archeological techniques, and its artifacts were left in situ so their context could be preserved for future scholars and the public. Which doesn’t mean the Victorian-era archeologists weren’t still scandalized by what they found. According to an 1896 edition of The English Illustrated Magazine, a House of the Vettii painting “only suitable to that barbarous period of Europe’s history [was] very properly… covered over” before the dig continued. In addition to being a little prudish, Pompeii’s early caretakers also made some well-intentioned mistakes. To protect frescoes from the region’s heat and humidity, they painted on a solution of wax and benzine, which oxidized the pigments over time, darkening the colors and making the images far less crisp and lively than they would have appeared on the eve of the eruption. “The wax had two effects,” says Tuck. “One is that everything looks muddy, like you’re looking at it through a scratched piece of Plexiglas. There’s volcanic dust all over Pompeii still, and it sticks to the surface of the wax and makes the paintings much harder to see.” The other problem, he explains, is less obvious but more serious: Wax doesn’t expand and contract with changes of temperature in the same way plaster does, and over time that material conflict caused cracks in the walls. Technology, however, has come a long way. The recent restoration of the House of the Vettii involved the painstaking removal of all that dirt and wax using lasers, a process called photoablation. Ultrasound and thermal imaging helped conservators understand how the walls themselves were deteriorating with time, and how to shore them up without damaging the frescoes. The payoff, by all accounts, was worth the effort. “The colors, the clarity—it was really wonderful,” says Tuck, who toured some of the restored rooms. Potter, whose research has taken him to Pompeii many times, is already planning another trip, not only to see the restored House of Vettii—and Priapus in all his newly visible glory—but also to commune with the Romans through what is still the best medium we have for understanding this lost civilization. “This work to reconstruct the city is really important,” he says, “because it lets you feel how people lived shoulder to shoulder. Here, you can really be in touch with the ancient world.” https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/art-pompeii-house-of-the-vettii

#Amy Crawford #Atlas Obscura

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combat-wombatus · 3 years

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uHm if you do these and if you want to do it I’d love a bnha matchup <3?

• my name is Aubri, I’m bi but prefer MHA boys tbh. I go by she/her, too.

• I’m a very Gryffindor person. (Sorry if you don’t know Harry Potter - 😖)

• I’m a June cancer, and I have ADHD and anxiety. My anxiety can be literally crippling somedays, but it’s gotten better overtime.

• I’m a bit of a class clown and usually just a clown 🤡 but that’s irrelevant. My teachers all hate me but like school-wise I do well so we have a love and mostly hate relationship 🤧

• I’m usually the ‘entertaining’ friend, in elementary the popular kids would invite me to play games with them because, “you’re funny” and it was like the biggest achievement ever 😭👍🏻 then they’d ignore me but that’s another therapy session

• I’m usually made fun of by people for being ‘weird’ and ‘insane’. Like all through elementary everyone thought I’d be a criminal when I grew up JUST BECAUSE I HAD UNDIAGNOSED ADHD - I hate it here 😐🦶🏻

• I’ve always been super into crime stories/true crime (where my anxiety comes from, I’m always worried about a pesky serial killer just killing me. It’s usually being kidnapped tho lmao) so I knew and still know like all these murder facts and sometimes I’d just randomly be like;

“Hey did you know it takes 12 hours and 2 days to dissolve a body in acid?”

“If you bury a dead deer over a dead body you buried deep in the ground, when police dogs sniff it and people dig they’ll just think it was the deer and won’t dig any farther.”

• So maybe people had a reason to be scared of me and think I’ll be a criminal someday, i dunno.

• I love love love reading and writing, and also debating. The things I’ve wanted to be when I grow up are basically: Dog shelter worker, actress, FBI agent, politician, and a writer. But usually I just want to do something that makes a positive impact on people. Like i wanted to be an FBI agent to solve crimes for people. I wanted to be a politican so I could actually help a lot of people. The entertainment industry also seemed like a way to make people happy. Idk, but then I decided I couldn’t be a politican at 10 because they were all corrupt and to be one I would have to be too. 😫🤌🏻 we love some good childhood angst

• the only subjects I’ve ever excelled at are ELA and Social Studies aka History, and Math I can’t do to save my life. ELA comes easy for me and I usually don’t have to work that hard and/or get too stressed over it. But I always get the meanest teachers for some reason. For example, one time I did my final essay for like 30% of my grade in 30 minutes the day it was due and I got an A+ 🦟🦗🦟🦗

• Uhhh id describe myself as a pretty loyal friend, I’m a ride or die type of girl. A story from my childhood that summarizes it pretty well is when I was in 2nd grade my friend wet her pants and she didn’t want to go to the nurse for it alone so I peed my pants so I could go with her and she wouldn’t have to be alone. Like, you know, a professional problem solver

• and I have genuinely attacked people for fucking with my friends but don’t snitch pls 🕳🏃‍♀️💨

• But also just anyone, people at my school tend to come to me with their problems for me to either help solve them by reasoning, or just to confront the other person like the bad bleep I am 😈😈

• I also have a huge daydreaming problem, it’s literally maladaptive daydreaming. So paired with my ADHD I don’t get shit done like ever.

• I have really high empathy levels I guess, like I always say hi to everyone I see on the street, especially if they look sad 😔 I’ve done it ever since I was a little kiddo.

• My fashion sense is very much a preppy/alt style. I wear those ripped tights and fishnets, I also have the MOST BIZARRE JEWELRY- like who allowed me to buy the gummy worm glittery earrings, hmmm???????? and those Mary Janes???????

• But I love crew necks and pleated skirts so I always obide by the National “hoes dont get cold” policy 🇺🇸😫🦅

• I wanna move somewhere someday, I don’t want to stay in America for very long

• I can speak Latin, French, and my native language which is English.

• My music taste varies, but my all-time favorite artists who all of their music they’ve ever put out has been my favorites are, Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez, and Conan Gray.

• I no-joke have a sign in my front yard that says;

In ✍️ this ✍️ house we ✍️ don’t ✍️ worship Jesus ✍️ but instead ✍️ Melanie ✍️ Martinez

• My favorite shows are MHA (duh), The Promised Neverland, and Malcolm in The Middle.

• and I’m not going to tell you what I prefer in a partner, because that ruins the fun 😤

• but I will say I cannot be friends with someone who doesn’t really make me laugh. Like I’m used to doing most of the talking in convos but if you’re just boring I’m sorry it’s nothing personal but no thanks 😐✌🏻

• About my physical appearance, I have fluffy n curly brown hair, but when it’s in the sunlight it looks sort of brown but golden yk?? It’s shoulder length :) I have bleach blonde streaks in the front. I like wearing eyeliner most days, too. I’m pretty average size/ on the skinnier side. Kinda high key inscure abt my body bc I got flat shamed in elementary EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TIDDIES NOW- whatever 😤🙄. I also have crystal type blue eyes, and I do have fairly big eyes. But, like, not weirdly big. A good big. My cheekbones are ALWAYS PRESENT so sometimes I get called a Tim Burton character but it’s cool ig ☠️☠️ oh and I’m kinda short. I’m 5’3, even though my doctor said I’d be 5’7. I feel like I was either tricked by the doctor or someone just stole my destined height while I was asleep. It’s probably cause I didn’t keep an eye out for Selener 👁 😔😔

• I’m a definite night owl, like all of my energy comes at night which really sucks cuz I can’t do much since everyone else is asleep.

• My love language is touch starved so I’ve never figured it out ✌🏻😗🔫

• but I am an attention whore so idk 😏

• I’m a huge introvert with social anxiety. It isn’t as bad as it used to be cuz I used to not be able to like go to restaurants but now I’m much better.

• I’m a huge history person, mostly like sad history LMFAO. Uh but a lot of my hyperfixations have been on history. Some examples are The Roman Empire, Julius Caesar himself, Anne Frank, The Titanic, the Black Plauge, Helen Keller, Marie Curie, Slavery in the US, Joan of Arc, and just a lot more. I always love talking about these things if someone would let me ramble to them but no one ever does 😖 it also got to a point where for all these subjects I’d go to the library and try to find a book on them but usually I’d either have already read it or I’d read it and know all the information.

• I’m super into Greek Mythology, I have 7 books filled with the stories, I’m going to Greece maybe this summer to see it’s history, and named my hamster Aphrodite but we call her Aphie. I also will talk about this forever and ever if you let me.

• My favorite color is yellow, my favorite food is literally nothing I never have an appetite, my favorite planet is Saturn, favorite song is Tag Your It by Melanie Martinez atm but it changes like everyday.

• Music is a huge safe-space for me if I’m feeling down or having a panic attack. It calms me down n is overall my coping mechanism 💃🏻💃🏻

• Biggest fear is spiders, even looking at one gives me a panic attack and I cannot sleep at all for that night, adding to my insomniac ass 🧎🏻‍♂️🏌️‍♀️

• I’m mature for my age, I don’t exactly like hanging around kids my age and I get along better with older crowds.

• i don’t like conventional dates, (I PROMISE IM NOT TRYING TO SOUND ‘QUIRKY’ AHAHA) I kind of like having a best-friend type partner more so dates that aren’t as romantic as like the movies or a fancy restaurant suite me better. My dream date is playing Monopoly on my bedroom floor 🦧

• Also I hate getting gifts. End of story. If someone gets me a gift like awe that’s nice but never again, I’d prefer to get you one. Especially in a romantic partner 😐 i keep a journal of my friends’ interests and hobbies so I can get them the perfect gifts for their bdays and Christmas’s. Been doing this ever since 4th grade.

• Though I don’t have much actual experience with relationships🧍🏻‍♀️

• I’m a huge believer in ‘family isn’t blood, it’s who you make it’ because I have a pretty shitty family life and my childhood has been trash. My friends are my family to me.

• Also if my friends don’t like my romantic partner ✨ GOODBYE ✨. Sorry girlie, bros before hoes 🦨💨

I was going to put more but I’m so so sorry for how LONG AND COMPLICATED THIS IS- idk if this is a autobiography or a matchup at this point 🤦‍♀️ don’t feel pressured to do this and if matchups aren’t open IM SO SO SORRY LMAO uh yeah ilysm 🦎🎂🧃

OMG ASLDFKJHASLKDJH

🥺 i’m so sorry bby but matchups are closed ;-; my 100 follower event was over while ago (i guess i should’ve specified that in the asks i answered LKSAJHFLKJAHDS SORRY IT’S MY BAD) but you sound so cool?? i had a lot of the same hyperfixations interests (heLLO helen keller was badass AF and the roman empire was messed up but still v cool, anne frank was awesome too) i also may or may not have wanted to be a politician when i was younger alskdjfhalkdhj but now i’m just 🧍🏻‍♀️ lost and anyways you’re amazing >.< love u lots and don’t forget to drink water and eat a lil something hehe :p

#coco answers #nonnie <3

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 4 years

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All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Three - The Baudelaires break into Lemony’s apartment

Klaus always had trouble sleeping while they were on the move, and the train ride was no different. They’d been on the train a few times; not enough that he could consider it their main mode of transportation- which, honestly, had to be their own feet first and foremost, followed by their Mother hijacking cars- but enough that he could be comfortable knowing their exit routes. If they needed to jump out the window, they should do so while the train was moving uphill, and roll so as not to break bones. They could also run towards the end of the train and leap from there- Beatrice and Bertrand always tried very hard to get them into a compartment towards the back for this purpose. If all else failed, they could draw any attackers towards the engine and push or trip them into furnaces. That was the worst case scenario, though; they should try to avoid harming someone else. They didn’t want to be put on the watchlist of law enforcement.

The kids had been sitting at a table together, but Sunny fell asleep leaning against Violet’s arm halfway through biting a stick they’d found for her, and Violet had dozed off soon after, her ribbon still dangling in her hair, as she’d been thinking of a way to make a better emergency brake for trains. Klaus was having more trouble sleeping, though, even though he brought some books with him to calm him down. It was a bit hard to carry books from place-to-place, but if he packed one less outfit than his siblings did, he could fit two or three books into the bottom of his bag. They each had a bag for all the essentials, and, well, he considered books essentials. His parents told him that was okay, so long as he didn’t throw away any food. In fact, his father sometimes had books with him, too. And both of them had carried small commonplace books in their jacket pockets for as long as Klaus could remember. Last time they were in a convenience store, he’d swiped one for himself, and it now rested in his inside pocket. He hadn’t written anything inside yet, except the addresses of the safehouses on the second page; he wasn’t sure what else to say.

Slowly, Klaus slid out of his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder- don’t go anywhere without it, Klaus, had been drilled into his head, You never know when you might lose it forever. That was also a philosophy that was to be kept with the rest of his family, but… well, right now the pressing matter was that he couldn’t see his parents.

There was a small bathroom compartment attached to theirs, and when Klaus looked up from his History of the Roman Empire book, and he’d realized both his parents were gone, he assumed that’s where they would be. They thought he didn’t know, but he and Violet had figured out ages ago that when their parents wanted to have conversations that they didn’t want their children to hear, they’d go into the bathroom, because it was quite rude to try to open a locked bathroom door. Usually, he and Violet didn’t eavesdrop, because their parents told them whatever they were ready for. The only secrets they kept were ones to tell the children later.

But, well… they might be safe soon. If Lemony, their parents’ only friend, the only person the family could trust, thought he had a way to clear their names… they could stop all of this. Find a place to stay put. No more secrets, ever.

Klaus didn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t know what he’d do, just sitting in one place. He’d always be worried that they were going to be attacked- would he ever get it into his head that nobody was coming after them? Would he even be happy, staying in one place? He kind of liked seeing new things.

He picked up an empty glass from the food tray and pressed it against the bathroom door, kneeling to put his ear to it. If he strained, he could hear his parents.

“-almost fifteen years now. Do you think it’s any different?”

“Come on, Bertrand, that city didn’t change at all while we were growing up. I bet some of our graffiti is still there.”

“Lemony didn’t tell us where we was staying.”

“He won’t be hard to find. He has his private detective business, we’ll just find out where his office is.”

“You really think he won’t make that difficult?”

“He wants clients who aren’t part of VFD.”

There was a bit of a pause, and then Bertrand said, “We’ll have to try and stay out of sight. There’s probably still a volunteer presence in the city.”

“I have a few wigs we could use. Kids should be fine, I still think their existence is a secret.”

“Still, make sure one of them has Sunny with them at all times.”

“Link arms in crowds.”

“Stay alert.”

Klaus bit his lip. Very little of this was new information, he was starting to regret taking the time to eavesdrop.

Then, he heard his Mother say something, so quietly he almost missed it.

“We might be almost done. This might be almost over.”

“Do you really think so?”

“If Lemony believes… maybe we can have our old house back. It still belongs to me, I think, it’ll need repair-”

“We can do that. I bet the kids will like having their own rooms.”

“I think there’s still a library there.”

“God, it’d be nice to have a… a home.”

Silence again. Then… “Klaus, darling, I can see your shadow. Come on in.”

Klaus swore under his breath. Slowly, he put the glass back onto the table, and waited until he heard the lock click before slowly peering through the door.

Inside, his parents were looking sadly at him. He went over to his mother, and she gave him a side hug, letting him bury his head in her chest. “Can’t sleep?” she guessed.

“Never can.” he muttered.

Bertrand put an arm around him, too. “Are you feeling alright?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Just… nervous.”

“I know. Big cities scare us, too. But you know all the safehouses, and if it gets too loud, you should still have earplugs somewhere-”

Klaus glanced up at him, and said, “What if you get caught?”

Bertrand’s face fell, and he shared a look of despair with his wife. “We won’t.” was all he said.

“What if you do?”

“Then… then Lemony will take care of you. I promise. We’ll make sure we all know the address before heading out, in case we get split up.”

Klaus bit his lip, staring down at the ground a moment. Then, he said, in a very shaky voice, “What if Lemony doesn’t like me?”

“Oh… oh, honey.” Beatrice moved around, kneeling in front of him and putting her hands on his shoulders. Slowly, she moved one palm to his cheek, smiling as he leaned into her. “Oh, honey, Lemony’s going to love you. You’re so alike, in so many ways. He loves reading and research, too, and he’ll help you with your interests. He knows what it’s like to… to talk nonstop about things you love, and to not understand the cues people are giving…”

“He knows a little about you already.” Bertrand reminded him, taking his turn to half-hug his son. “Anything we could tell him. He’ll be so excited to meet you and your sisters.”

It was a bit hard, understanding that he was actually going to meet the mythological Lemony. All these years, he’d just been… a figure. Someone to send reports to, get warnings from. Someone their parents laughed and joked about. Not someone you talk to.

“Are you scared?” Beatrice asked, and Klaus nodded fervently.

“Well,” Bertrand said, “Remember what Lemony taught us.”

Beatrice smiled. “Do the scary thing first…”

“Get scared later.” Klaus whispered.

Beatrice stood up and gave him a good, proper hug, and Bertrand did, too, and Klaus wrapped his arms around both of his parents and tried to breathe steadily, as the train pushed on.

Klaus eventually did fall asleep, snuggled against his Mother when they went back to the booth and sat down. Bertrand sat beside his daughters, and fixed Sunny’s ponytail as she snored beside him. He pulled Violet’s ribbon out, tucking it into her pocket, and pushed her hair out of her face as she flopped against the window. Beatrice removed Klaus’s glasses, placing them on the table beside Violet’s bag.

“We’re almost there, we should wake them.” Bertrand said after a while.

Beatrice nodded, but neither of them moved.

After another while, Beatrice sighed and said, “It’s been so long. I can’t believe we’ll be seeing him again.”

Bertrand smiled a little. “We’re gonna walk in there, and he’ll probably just start rambling about something, like he does when we fluster him.”

“Bertrand-”

“It’s been fourteen years. We could walk in there looking like pure shit and he’d still go nuts.”

“You say that as if we’re not going to freeze up and embarrass ourselves in front of our babies.”

“Yeah, but we can team up and pick on Lemony for it later. Who’s he gonna team up with?”

“Bertrand, don’t tease him. At least wait a week.”

They smiled at each other, and that longing was in both their eyes. It’d been so many years…

The train started to slow, as light shimmered in through the windows. Bertrand shook Violet slightly and she groaned a little, and then yawned. “Hey. We’re here.”

She blinked her eyes open, as Beatrice gently woke Klaus. “Really?”

“Yeah. Get your stuff. Who has the Sunny Bag?”

“K-Klaus.”

Klaus sat up, and gestured to his bag, which had straps on the other end, so that Sunny could be strapped on like a baby bjorn. He’d put it on backwards, so that he didn’t lose sight of her.

“Alright.” Beatrice tried, and failed miserably, to hide the excitement in her voice. “Let’s go get Lemony.”

Slipping through the city was easier than they’d thought, and Bertrand and Beatrice were over the moon. They pointed out several things to the children as they walked- “Look, that’s the Fountain of Victorious Finance!” “That’s the bank where our money used to be.” “That road goes to Lousy Lane- there’s a horseradish factory there, and Safehouse One.” “Our house might still be down that way.”- and the longer they went on, the more comfortable the children felt. It seemed that their parents had this city memorized; surely no danger could befall them here.

After a while, Beatrice found a wall of advertisements, and Bertrand found a paper advertising Snicket, private investigator. He traced the paper, almost disbelievingly, and then read the address aloud for them all- The Rhetorical Building, thirteenth floor. They found their way there, and once outside, Violet pulled her hair back, and Klaus straightened his glasses and jacket, and they both whispered to Sunny to be careful what she bit, at least in order to make a good first impression.

They went up the stairs- hadn’t trusted elevators since Violet spotted a security camera in one- and were relieved that nobody passed them. “This building is probably among the most boring in the city,” Beatrice explained, “So rarely anyone will be here. Good for us.”

Violet nodded, though in the back of her mind, she remembered something she’d been taught fairly early on- while less people meant less chance of getting spotted, it also meant that there was less chance of getting help if something should happen.

They made it up to the thirteenth floor, and Klaus unstrapped Sunny from his bag and put her on the ground; while she couldn’t walk yet, she could at least crawl, and maybe take a few shaky steps if Klaus and Violet both held her hands. He slid his bag to his back, and noticed, out of the corner of his eye, his parents taking their disguises off, sliding them into their own bags and running their hands through their hair.

Carefully, Violet walked up and knocked on the door. She then proceeded to leap back, surprised, when the door swung open. It was already unlocked.

A flash of worry spread across Beatrice’s face. She carefully pulled the children behind her, and pushed the door open. “Lemony?” she called. No answer.

“Maybe he’s not home?” Violet suggested.

“Maybe he went to meet us at the train station and we missed him.” Klaus added.

Beatrice and Bertrand shared another look of worry, and then she said, “Stay behind us.”

They crept into the room, and though the kids normally listened very attentively to their parents’ requests, they found themselves wandering around a bit. It was a neatly-kept office, with a desk in the middle of the room, papers stacked efficiently. Several other desks and tables lined the walls, and Violet moved to drawers, opening them to see files inside. There were also several tall shelves lining the walls, filled with books that Klaus immediately gravitated towards. Sunny wandered over to a small mini-fridge, trying to open it with her tiny baby hands.

The Baudelaire parents, though, weren’t as enchanted as their children. Beatrice went over to the desk, moving behind it and pushing the chair away. She looked over a pile, and said, “He never keeps things this neat.”

“It’s been fourteen years.” Bertrand said nervously, though he moved to stand next to her. “Maybe he finally picked up some of my organizational skills.”

“If he didn’t while we were living with him, there’s no way-”

“Maybe he missed us.”

“Of course he missed us.”

Violet opened another drawer. A familiar spyglass- one her parents had, with the VFD eye emblazoned on the cover- rolled around inside, but otherwise there was nothing of interest. She wandered over to a window, peering out onto a fire escape that led to an alley. She then moved over to Klaus, who had pulled The Wind in the Willows from the shelf, flipping through it. “He’s written some stuff in here.” Klaus muttered, scanning the simple substitution cipher. “But it looks like he’s just pointed arrows to animals in the illustrations and labelled them with names, like ‘Moxie’ and ‘Jake.’”

“Root beer.” Sunny identified, as she looked into the mini-fridge she’d finally pried open.

Klaus moved over to a door that led to another room, only to find it locked. There was another one across the wall, but he didn’t bother looking at it. He really should’ve, because he would’ve noticed it quietly swinging open. “Hello? Mr Lemony Snicket, sir?” he called into the locked door.

“Why would he call us here, then not be here when we arrived?” Beatrice’s voice had a tinge of panic to it.

Bertrand pulled their last telegram out of his jacket pocket, scanning it. “Maybe we missed a message. A meeting spot.”

“Why would he leave his door unlocked?”

“He’s an idiot sometimes. Or maybe he’s meeting us here? Being dramatic, you know.”

Klaus returned to the shelf, sliding the book back into place, while Violet glanced towards Sunny, who had closed the fridge and was now biting into a can of root beer to try and open it. Slowly, she grabbed Klaus’s arm.

Beatrice pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, “Maybe we were wrong.”

“What else could the message have meant?”

“Maybe he was compromised. Maybe he was…” Slowly she shook and picked up a small paperweight, shaped like a leech. “I think we need to go.”

“Oh,” said a chilling, cold voice behind them, “But the fun’s just about to begin.”

The Baudelaires froze. Violet was the first to turn and stare at the man who’d entered the room from the other door. He leaned against the wall, watching them with a dark look across his face. She noticed his appearance quickly- one long eyebrow, instead of two, with graying hair and eyes that were shining with some kind of excitement. Sunny, who was much closer to the ground, noticed something different first- he was wearing no socks, and had the tattoo of an eye on his ankle.

He didn’t look at all like how their parents had described Lemony. In fact, he looked very much like someone they were warned away from.

“Beatrice. Bertrand.” said Count Olaf. “It’s been a while.”

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #asoue netflix #asoue au #runaway baudelaires au #the bad beginning #my fanfic #asoue fanfiction #mine

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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913: Quest of the Delta Knights

Or, as I’ve taken to calling it, Wizards of the Lost Kingdom -1.

Long ago it was a time of brave knights and fair maidens, bubonic plague, public hangings, spiral perms and really stupid hats. The tyrant of this land is Lord Volcher, who acts a lot like Alan Rickman in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves only not so subtle. Opposed to him are the Delta Knights, who have a prophecy about a young sage from the North, and a wizard-looking dude called Baydool thinks he’s found this chosen one in a skinny kid named Travis who might have precognitive powers, I don’t know. Supposedly Travis is destined to lead them to the place where Archimedes hid the lost knowledge of Atlantis. Wasn’t that the plot of an episode of MacGuyver?

This all takes place when Leonardo da Vinci was in his early twenties, which would place us in the 1470’s. Despite being so theoretically specific, Wizards of the Lost Kingdom -1 doesn’t actually try very hard to be set in anything resembling the historical past – it’s kind of like The Undead in being a quasi-Renaissance fantasy thrown together by people whose ‘research’ consisted mostly of watching other quasi-Renaissance fantasy movies. The only historical detail they got noticeably right was the death of Archemedes. Supposedly he really was cut down by the Romans while trying to finish some math, his last words being roughly, “don’t disturb my calculations.” Legend credits him with inventing a heat ray and a couple of other superweapons that may or may not have been used in the siege of Syracuse, which I guess is what inspired this movie.

That’s a fun idea, I suppose, and could make for a sort of medieval Indiana Jones type adventure. Problem is, I’m really not sure what kind of movie Wizards of the Lost Kingdom -1 is trying to be. The tone shifts sharply depending on who’s in a given scene. When the villains are onscreen one gets the impression that this is a comedy, but nothing that happens is actually funny. Indeed, a lot of the so-called ‘jokes’ are downright mystifying. What the fuck is with the thing about Whampool having been a bearded lady in a carnival? What is supposed to be the punchline of that? What’s supposed to be funny about any of Volcher’s interactions with the Mannerjay, whoever she is? Why is he loyal to her when she treats him so badly?

When we’re watching the heroes, we have the opposite situation: it seems like this is all meant to be riveting and sometimes heartfelt, but everything that’s happening is silly. I want to speculate that there was some kind of failure of communication here, that some of the actors thought they were making a serious adventure movie and the rest thought this was a medieval sitcom, but Baydool and Volcher are played by the same guy so I got nothing.

The result feels uneven to the point of being nearly incomprehensible. How the hell does Leonardo da Vinci exist in the same universe as the Wizard Whampool with his neckbeard and Brooklyn accent? Why do characters keep talking about filing their paperwork in a world where very few people can read? How do real countries like Italy and Germany exist, and yet we’re in a land ruled by a Dark Queen who never does anything and a forest full of ziplining people who live in the trees like fucking Ewoks? How is anybody talking about the country of Turkey four hundred years before it existed?

I guess the film-makers figured nobody would care because it’s just a silly fantasy movie, right? Maybe that’s true – maybe I’m just anal about it because I did undergrad work in medieval and renaissance history. The way I see it, though, once you’ve decided to mention real people like Archimedes and Leonardo da Vinci, you’ve got to at least try to be set in the real world. If you’re going to make up things like the Golden Newt Award from the College of Alchemists in Istanbul, you can also make up your ancient scientist and your artistic prodigy. Otherwise your movie comes across like it was written by a twelve-year-old.

(Don’t ask me why Volcher and Baydool are both David Warner, by the way. Maybe it’s supposed to be a two sides of the same coin thing? Maybe there was a subplot about them being long-lost twins and it got cut from the movie? Maybe they just couldn’t afford to pay another actor and thought nobody would notice?)

There are major characters who are totally useless. Volcher’s Evil Overlady is a woman referred to as ‘the Mannerjay’ – I googled this word to see if it actually meant anything but all that comes up is pages about this movie. I guess somebody thought it sounded cool. She appears to sit around all day belittling the people who are running her kingdom for her. We never find out who she is or what she wants or why she’s in charge, and she appears to be in the movie only so it can make jokes about how totally whipped Volcher is. Her pet wizard, Whampool, is important for about thirty seconds while Baydool and Travis sneak into his lab to copy the map to Archimedes’ library, but he keeps popping up again after that for short scenes that are supposed to be comedic but aren’t, and contribute nothing.

Equally wasted is Thena, the woman Travis springs from a brothel because she saved him from being beaten up once. She turns out to be the Lost Princess of the Ewok People, which comes across as a lazy way to get her out of the movie again. She shows up to shoot one guy at the very end but can never really be said to have an effect on the plot. She’s not even anyone’s love interest. She’s only in the movie because the casting director thought her tits looked good in that corset.

The plot never seems to escalate. The middle section of a movie is supposed to be ‘rising action’ or at least ‘rising tension’, but the characters in Wizards of the Lost Kingdom -1 just seem to be wandering around. Part of this is because of characters like Whampool, or Thena and the Ewok People, who come and go without having any effect on the plot. A major part of it is because the bad guys are idiots who can’t seem to get anything done. Sometimes the good guys don’t seem able to get anything done, either, as when Travis attempts to rescue Baydool from prison but only ends up getting him killed. This is supposed to be the heartbreaking tragic scene where Travis loses his mentor, but it mostly feels like wasted time.

I’ve already mentioned a number of anachronisms in Wizards of the Lost Kingdom -1, but there are always more, and the biggest of them is the one the entire plot is founded on. Baydool tells Travis that the Delta Knights are ‘a secret society dedicated to bringing mankind out of the dark ages.’ Right. So first of all, ‘the dark ages’ usually means about 400-800 AD in Europe, when we don’t know much about what was going on because everybody was too busy killing each other to write it down. They weren’t called that, however, until the seventeenth century, when scholars began contrasting what they considered an age of ignorance with the ‘light’ of Greece and Rome beforehand and the Renaissance (a period of fetishism for all things Greco-Roman) after. Notice how neither of these periods overlap with the supposed time of this movie. This brings me to my second point, which is that dark ages are dark only in retrospect. Nobody who was actually alive at the time knew they were living in the dark ages and they probably wouldn’t have cared if they had.

Of course at the end of the movie, they find the secrets of Atlantis but decide to bury them again so that Volcher can’t use Archimedes’ death ray to conquer the world or something. Throughout the movie Volcher has gone around murdering random people and yelling orders, but he’s so dumb and incompetent that he never really seems like a threat to our heroes. I got the idea that if Travis hadn’t blown him up he would have done it to himself within the next fifteen minutes. The Mannerjay, sitting around in her hilltop castle (always introduced with a thunderbolt sound even when the sky is blue), certainly isn’t a threat to anybody. I don’t think she knows what goes on outside her room. Keeping this stuff out of their hands seems totally unnecessary. These clowns wouldn’t know what to do with it.

Besides, if you’re trying to fit this into actual history, shouldn’t the end be the Delta Knights using the contents of Archimedes’ Library to bring about the Renaissance? That’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? To re-introduce Greco-Roman ideas of science into this backward, superstitious society (not that they ever bother to establish society as backward and superstitious)? Instead they just blow the whole thing up and all that’s left is things Leonardo was later inspired to sketch in his margins when he got bored of drawing penises with legs. Congratulations on defeating the entire purpose of your own secret society, guys.

Why would anybody make a movie like this? Wizards of the Lost Kingdom -1 clearly had some kind of budget, because the costumes are pretty nice even when they’re not very historical. Archimedes’ ray gun is realized through effects that aren’t very special but at least they work. There are horses and props and things like that, but the script and story are so juvenile, un-funny, and pointless that it doesn’t feel like it deserves them. Nothing here was worth my time or the film-makers’ money and effort. It doesn’t make me as viscerally angry as Kitten with a Whip, but man, it sucks.

#mst3k #reviews #quest of the delta knights #90s

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sidespromptblog · 5 years

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The Jock...and Logan

Summary: Logan is a nerd, that much is a given and something that he’s gotten used to over the years. One thing that he can’t get used to, no matter how much it happens, is the fact that people use and then subsequently leave him.

(Commission trade for @dailypattondoodle )

Waking up felt just about like every other morning, his alarm blaring out whatever song happened to be streaming on the radio as he blearily opening his eyes before he wildly stretched his hand out fumbling for his glasses. That morning, Logan slid his glasses onto his face like he did every single day before school, just like he picked up his phone, the hope that was bursting in his chest completely withering and dying as soon as he saw that the screen was completely and utterly blank. Save for one name that had just recently been added to his contacts.

This is the tenth time. That spark of hope died where it had been burning in his heart. The tenth time that they haven’t answered..the tenth time that they’ve ignored my messages..and me. This time it took a little more effort for Logan to push those nasty thoughts that lingered just under the surface of his mind, as he wiped away the stringing of his eyes. It hurt, but that hurt was getting better to ignore, especially as he tapped on the message that remained on his phone screen, the profile picture already making a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

Prince Surely-Temple: We still on for studying today? Prince Surely-Temple: My mom made us an apple strudel thing. Prince Surely-Temple: It’s good I promise. Prince Surely-Temple: Looooogan. Prince Surely-Temple: I’ll see you at school, you better be there nerd. AND with an empty stomach. Prince Surely-Temple: Or else!

Logan’s stomach grumbled at the mere thought of Roman’s mother’s cooking, just about anything that she managed to bake with her own hand ended up being good enough to go down in history. She was the only reason that Logan even went to those boring football meet and greets, aside from the fact that Roman was there and they’d agreed to help each other. Logan with Roman’s trigonometry final coming up, and Roman..with the jerks who strolled through the halls looking for easy targets. Or that’s how it had started at first, Roman’s loveable goofball charm was just as intoxicating as it was sweet. Sure he still helped him study, but they also hung out afterward. He sat with him at lunch, listening to him ramble on and on about his astronomy class and his most recent obsession, whatever that happened to be at the time.

It was...nice, for a change.

“Logan!” The thickly accented voice of his aunt cut through the air like a knife from down the hall where she was most certainly lingering by the kitchen door with that look of stubborn concern written all over her warm face, her voice alone startled him out of his thoughts as his head snapped up in attention. “It’s a school day! The bus will be here any minute! You can’t miss today!”

For a second, Logan wanted to groan and bury himself in his mountain of pillows and block out every sound and hint of sunlight that would force him to face the reality of school. He wanted to, the very idea of it nagged at his very core as exhaustion tugged at his bones. But...the mere image of his aunt’s worried but stern eyes looking back at him, telling him that there was no way he was going to miss school so close to finals had him up before he could even think it through.

He went through the motions of getting ready. Brushed his hair, until it gleamed in the poor lighting of the bathroom, brushed his teeth until his gums ached, and put on his clothes. A carbon copy of just about the same outfit he wore every single day, and after gathering his books he was ready to go. Leaving the sanctuary of his room, just to come face to face with his cousin. Who, as always was dressed head to toe in pure black without a single hint of lighter colors to be seen on him, and a snarling grimace permanently attached to his face.

A part of Logan groaned internally, no matter what mood he was in, Virgil always had a nose for picking out whatever was bothering someone...and their weaknesses.

And unfortunately for him, he was the very person that Virgil was sinking his hooks into next, that was pretty much a given just by the slightest tilt of the other’s head.

“You know,” Virgil drawled as he poured his cup of orange juice, his dark eyes drifted over the top of his drink as his lip curved down into what could only be a disappointed frown aimed right at Logan’s forehead where the words “Gullible” were written for everyone to see in plain sight, or at least for Virgil to see as he set the jug of juice down on the counter. “If you weren’t such a pushover, you’d have a lot more friends than you already do.”

Logan’s forehead crinkled in confusion as his brown eyes darted all over Virgil’s face, the moment that his cousin started to languidly sip from his drink. “What..” He swallowed thickly as his grip tightened unconsciously on his books, “What are you talking about?” He honestly didn’t want to know the answer, and judging by the way that Virgil’s eyebrows lifted as a bemused smile lit up his face, he really didn’t want to know the answer. That dark smile was usually only reserved for people who Virgil had a personal beef with, or... for people’s heads he really just wanted to get into. Whichever one he was, remained to be seen.

But even so, Virgil strolled forward like one of the villains that Logan had seen on his cartoon programs.

“Don’t you know?” Virgil’s voice was a croon as he rested his heavier hand atop Logan’s head, rustling his hair and messing it up despite Logan obviously just having brushed it. “Everyone knows who you are Logan, you’re the smart one, the clever one, the one who knows all the answers to every school-related problem. They know that, so they get you to help, and once they have everything that they want from you…” Virgil paused ominously as his frown deepened even more, and his eyes flashed with a singular moment of furious hatred. “Once they have that..they don’t need you. I’ve seen it too often from the people you’ve helped Lo, they all talk behind your back and you just let them. I don’t want to see it happen again, so...don’t let it happen again. Understood?”

A sensation that Logan could only describe as crushing settled over his throat, like a foot pressing down on his chest getting harder and harder as each second passed.

Was that really all that he was to people? A bookworm..a nerd...a useful object for people to use and abandon once they got what they needed from him?

Even so, Logan mustered a tiny shaken nod towards Virgil’s dark narrowed eyes, getting only a firm nod in return.

Was that what that was? Logan couldn’t help but for the storming thoughts in his mind to swirl uncontrollably. Remington? Toby? Magie? Percy? They never answered the texts I sent to them, and they all just ignore me at school. So..So is Virgil, right? He’s never been wrong before, so maybe-

The unmistakable sound of the bus tires squealing in front of his house ripped him right out of his thoughts as his eyes darted over to the screen door.

“Your bus is here,” Virgil plainly said, his upper lip curling just faintly at the mere thought of high school. “You shouldn’t miss the bus, mom will be pissed if you do.” And just like that, his darkly clad cousin moved to walk away, back down to the basement where his bed and gaming system laid in wait for him. But glancing back over to Logan, who was in the process of gathering his things for school he piped up one last time. “Don’t forget about what I said Lo, sever your ties with them..hurt them before they can hurt you. You’ll be all the better for it.” And just like that the basement door shut with a resounding thud, that echoed throughout the house and throughout Logan’s mind as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

He couldn’t stop fidgeting throughout the entire bus ride, with Virgil’s warning ringing through his ears.

Never before had Logan ever imagined high school being any different than it already was, never before had he imagined that the different groups of people would feel so alien to him, but they did. Every piece of brick around him, to the smallest stripe of paint, felt off to him, like he was looking through the world with a new set of eyes. His chest ached with each step that he took, and his breathing whistled with the smallest exhale that left his lips.

And it all accumulated into that one moment, all rushing up into one volcanic erupting as he felt an arm lock around his neck, and the familiar smell of roses and strawberries fill his nostrils.

“Hey, nerd,” Roman’s lips quirked upwards in a half-friendly smile as he buried his knuckles into Logan’s messy hair, that really looked like the guy hadn’t even touched it with a brush let alone washed it in the past two days. The smile on his face waned just slightly as soon as Logan hastily pushed Roman’s hand off of his head like it contained some rare bacteria that would infect him with a flesh-eating virus, “You okay dude? You look like shit.” He joked, just for his smile to grow smaller and smaller as soon as Logan’s fists clenched, trembling by the nerd’s side. “You still up for helping me study this aftern-”

“No.”

The words sounded like they were hissed from Logan’s lips, as the smaller boy glanced up at Roman, glaring through his watery eyelashes as his bottom lip trembled with each second that ticked by. His teeth were bared in a mockery of a fearsome beastly snarl, a look that almost instantly faded as soon as Logan took a breath, his chest hitching with that one movement.

His throat felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton, and his lung full of wet tissue paper. The sound of air traveling through his windpipe and into his lungs made a dreadful whistling noise as he stood there before the football player, who was only now looking at him with a dawning kind of horror. As Logan pressed his lips together, the compressed sensation crushing his chest more and more as time slowly ticked by, the seconds felt like entire hours as the cool air licked at his wet cheeks but still wouldn’t get into his lungs. He was suffocating, with an entire world of oxygen around him, his lungs weren’t working, even though there wasn’t a single thing wrong with them. Everything seemed to slow down, as the bright lights from school hallways beamed down at him, catching on the metal zipper of Roman’s jacket, and just about everything else that could reflect like and be aimed at Logan’s eyes.

Within mere agonizing moments, Roman had seized Logan’s arm, hoisting him up as soon as it looked like Logan’s knees were going to give out on him. “Shit! Shitshitshit!” The jock hissed to himself, he could practically feel the resignation in Logan’s eyes as he heaved him up dragging him from the overcrowded hallway, and into the calm blissful silence of the library that had yet to fill up with students who were studying for their finals. “Breathe Lo, breath!”

Even just saying that felt useless as Logan let out a sharp whistling exhale that twisted something deep inside Roman’s stomach, and made him feel like he was soon going to be sick all over the dull faded blue carpet of the library. His hands were shaking as Logan’s fingers clung to the back of the chair that had been neatly pushed under one of the tables, his knuckles were turning white and his lips were gaining a faint blue-ish tinge to them. However Roman was trying to help him, it clearly wasn’t doing any good.

Logan pawed weakly but with the desperation of a dying man at one of the zipped up compartments of his backpack, “Hal..er..In..hale..r” He wheezed out, and the very sound sent a shudder down Roman’s spine, his mother had told him often enough about the dead man’s rattle from her time working in the hospital. About how even when her patients couldn’t even open their eyes, the one thing that always remained with them until the end was that wheezing rattle that clung to the hollow base of their throat.

Until their breathing ceased altogether.

Even so, it took less than a few seconds for everything to slot right into place.

Inhaler! He’s having an asthma attack you dumbass! Roman mentally snarled to himself, as he yanked at Logan’s backpack with a quick jerk of his arms. Scattering the contents along the floor as he hastily unzipped the pocket before shoving his hand around, frantically grabbing ahold of it like it was the cup that led to the fountain of youth. In no time at all the inhaler found its way into Logan’s hand, as Roman watched the entire time that Logan pushed the plunger down inhaling deeply before holding his breath.

Little by little, the color came back to Logan’s face, the blue tint leaving his lips in order to be replaced with a healthy looking peach color. Seeing it come back made Roman’s stiff shoulders sink in a pure tidal wave of relief that came crashing down on him all at once, making his knees feel weak and his entire body like jello.

“I didn’t know you had asthma,” He felt a rush of guilt almost immediately as Logan’s entire body stiffened all at once, at the sound of his accusatory voice. “But serious Lo, what’s going on? I..I know you, so you’re not one who’s going to cancel like this out of the blue, so...what’s wrong dude? Talk to me.” His eyes flickered down to Logan’s hands again, watching how they grasped the back of the chair. His knuckles were white again, a stark contrast against Roman’s own darker skin. “Has someone been bothering you? I’ll make them stop Lo! I promise, just talk to me and-”

“It’s you!” The shout roared in the silence of the library just mere seconds before Roman felt the inhaler bounce back off of his chest, Logan ran his fingers through his messy knotted hair. “It’s you and everyone in this damned school!” Logan seethed, his cheeks pinking just slightly as soon as he had to stoop down and pick his inhaler back up from where he had just throw it. “You’re all so content to use people! The smart kid, the tough kid, the kind kid, the pushover! Everyone! The moment you get something from me, I’ll be obsolete in your little world view! My usefulness will be over, and you’ll just go along like I never existed in the first place! You ignore me and ignore me, until you need something! You all do!” By the time that Logan was even close to being finished his chest was heaving with each breath as he clutched at his inhaler, tears glistened on his eyelashes as he vehemently glared back at Roman as if he had just witnessed him kick a puppy into the street. “And I’m sick of it,” Logan hissed, taking a single step back in order to grab his backpack. “I’m not some fucking tissue for you to throw away once you’ve jacked your shit off! So..so fuck off!”

Tears rolled silently down Logan’s cheeks like an avalanche of shame, as his breathing hitched with every breath that he took.

The guilt that pummeled into Roman’s chest easily took his breath away as his fingers itched to wipe away the tears that were scattered across Logan’s cheeks like fresh salty raindrops cascading down from the sky. Was this what Logan really thought of them, of every single person who happened to come to him for help? That he was just the defacto smart kid, and that people were just there to take from him? Looking into his eyes and searching his face, Roman felt his insides wither. Logan didn’t think this about them...he knew that it was what happened.

“Lo…” The whisper that left Roman’s lips was as soft as the fresh morning dew of sunrise, reaching forward he used his sleeve to wipe away the tears that leaked down the other’s face with a gentleness that surprised even him. “I..I..” He swallowed thickly before carrying on, “I don’t hang around you because I know that you’re smart Lo, yeah you’re smart, so what? You’re my friend because you treat me like friends should. I like that we can talk openly about things and you won’t judge me, just like I don’t judge you for your obsession over jam and Sherlock. We can talk poetry until the sky turns dark, I’m your friend because you’ll listen to me rant and rave about the cute guy down the block and not talk down to me, just as I love to listen to you ramble on and on about the stars and how they got their names. I’m friends with you for a lot of reasons Logan,” Roman took a single step forward before he tightly grasped Logan’s shoulders. “But none of them are just because you’re smart, you’re a person, and as a person, I enjoy everything about you. Got it?”

Logan raked his sleeve across his cheeks as more tears poured from his eyes.

“Yeah,” He choked out, his voice hoarse and gravely as he offered Roman a simple grin that only wobbled with the coming influx of tears. “I got it.”

#logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #platonic logince #logan angst #logan sanders angst #tw abandonment

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littlelovelyspiderling · 6 years

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Cranky Cassie

Peter is upset about a bad test grade. Tony hosts an Avengers movie night to try to cheer him up. It does not go as planned.

I combined the prompts suggested by @kallani-ex-machina and @wigglingpandaboi into one story because I’m lazy! enjoy!

word count: 2,764

Peter Parker was a failure.

At least, that’s how he saw it. Stark couldn’t remember a time the kid looked more dejected than he did today. The day Brooklyn 99 was cancelled came in a close second, but that disaster was resolved in a matter of hours.

Peter had done really bad on a test. Something to do with ancient Roman history. He’d forgotten it was today, and hadn’t studied at all beforehand. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. That was the gist Tony had gathered before the kid stomped off in silence, isolating himself to the table in the corner behind a mound of books and papers. Stark assumed maintaining your schoolwork was hard when you were also trying to carry all of New York City on your shoulders.

Two hours later, and the kid still hadn’t budged. When Tony inquired what he was up to, Peter sighed without lifting his gaze.

“Extra credit assignment. It won’t save my massacred GPA, but I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“You know you don’t have to do this all tonight, kid. It’s Friday.”

Peter simply shrugged and kept working. Stark was certain he was punishing himself. The kid was his own worst critic.

“One bad grade isn’t gonna tank your whole high school career, Pete. I promise you. You’re a brilliant kid. You’ll do great on the next one, and everything will turn out fine. All right?”

Peter seemed to be tuning him out. His whole body was tense with concentration. Tony frowned, feeling unfit to deal with this sort of thing, and laid his hand on his shoulder.

“You want to take a quick break?” he asked. Peter shook his head. Stark let a breath ease from his lungs, then patted his back defeatedly. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay? I got juice boxes, whipped cream, coffee, vodka—all the goodies. You know, brain food.”

The kid didn’t even crack a smile at his corny attempt at humor. Even on his grumpiest days, which were few and far between, Peter would at least acknowledge Stark’s attempts to cheer him up. But today, nothing. This was a whole new side of Peter that Tony had never encountered before. If he was going to succeed in lifting the kid’s spirits at all, he was going to need some help.

So with a few short texts to the Avengers group chat and a couple of phone calls to those less responsive, Tony got a solid chunk of the team to agree to come over and try brightening Spidey’s mood under the guise of partaking in a casual team-bonding movie night. If there was one thing all the Avengers could agree on, it was their mutual fondness of Peter Parker, regardless of who chose to admit it out loud. Plus, it had been a while since a good number of them had gotten together for something besides the end of the world.

Around six o’clock, people started arriving, popcorn, candy, and fuzzy pajama pants at the ready. The total headcount was Rhodey, Sam, Cap, Scott, Natasha, Clint, Barnes, and Thor. Stark had to admit, he was a little impressed. Peter looked up with a frown as more and more bodies filled the room. They began sandwiching together on the couch, some having to pull up chairs from the bar or nest in pillows on the floor.

“Movie night, kiddo,” Stark said, popping up behind him and ruffling his hair. “Wanna join? It’s a good one: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”

Peter stared at the group longingly but shook his head. “No thanks. I want to finish this tonight so I can start studying for next week’s quiz tomorrow.” He stuffed all his textbooks and notes back into his bag. “I think I’ll just go home.”

Tony’s heart cracked in his chest. He placed his hands on both of the kid’s shoulders as he tried to step around him. “Peter, hey,” he said. “Wait a minute.” The teen trudged to a stop and gazed up at him with tired, miserable eyes. Stark shook his head. “I get it. This test grade’s got you spiraling a little. You’ve set yourself on fixing it, and you will.” He turned him towards the couch across the room. “But look. We’re all here right now, and we want you to watch this movie with us. So why don’t you just relax for tonight, blow off a little steam, and you can pick up where you left off tomorrow with a fresh and happy head on your shoulders?”

The group of heroes piled on the couch, catching the signal, hollered and waved him forward. “Come on, Spidey!” Sam called. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Peter hesitated, glancing between the jubilant faces, reeling through all of the things he needed to work on, but eventually caved to the peer pressure.

“Okay, I guess,” he murmured. He pasted on a smile as the Avengers cheered with outlandish enthusiasm, directing him to the space they’d reserved at the end of the couch. But as soon as the lights were off, and all eyes switched from him to the screen, the smile faded.

Ferris started rattling off his snappy signature jokes—the ones that normally left Peter in stitches. Tony shot quick glances in his direction to see if they were having any effect. While the rest of the team cackled and slapped their knees, the kid just sat with his head resting against his fist. He had a blank expression on his face and a glazed look in his eye. He hinted a smile when Thor elbowed him in the arm, snorting with hearty laughter, but that was it. The happy-go-lucky Peter they all knew and loved was gone, replaced instead by some sad, dead clone. Stark almost felt guilty for making him stay.

He worried he was the only one who’d picked up on the fact that their plan was failing. Halfway through the film, and still sans even one tiny giggle, Tony considered offering to drive Peter home. Then, out of nowhere, the movie paused. Everyone turned in surprise to see Scott holding the remote.

“Hey, what gives?” Clint whined.

“Sorry, guys,” Lang said, rising to his feet and holding his hands in the air. “I promise I’m not trying to ruin the movie. I just noticed we have a Cranky Cassie in our midst.”

All eyes immediately veered towards Spider-Man, who shrunk beneath the sudden onslaught of attention. He stared up at Scott.

“Huh? A what?”

“A Cranky Cassie,” he repeated. “I suppose, in your case, a Pouty Peter.”

A few of the Avengers chuckled. Peter grimaced and crossed his arms, burying himself into the corner of the couch.

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” Lang assured him. “We all have our Cranky Cassie moments. A little crankiness is good for you, but too much for too long tends to turn you sour.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said, reddening a little. “Really. Just turn the movie back on.”

Scott shook his head. “Nope. No one is going to enjoy the movie until you start enjoying the movie. And no one can enjoy a movie as a Cranky Cassie.” He tossed the remote to Tony, who caught it in a startled jumble, then cracked his knuckles. “Fortunately, after years of research and analysis, I’ve discovered the one sure-fire cure to this devastating ailment.”

Scott approached him, and Peter’s confusion switched to nervousness. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't two hands seizing him around the middle and squeezing his belly and sides. Peter squealed involuntarily and grappled at Scott’s arms.

“Whaha! H-hey! Mr. Lahang! W-what are you—ehehaha!”

With the element of surprise on his side, Scott was able to tickle the majority of his midsection while Peter flailed hysterically in attempt to stop him. Everyone watched with disbelief and amusement as Ant-Man shattered the kid’s walls and drew squeaky laughter from his lips with nothing but a few well-placed pokes to his stomach. On a lucky blind grab, Peter managed to catch both of Lang’s hands, panting sharply and biting back giggles.

“Quihit it! This isn’t helping!”

“Oh, I see. We’ve got a particularly stubborn case of Cranky Cassie on our hands. I think it’ll take the whole team to work this one out of his system.” He lifted his gaze to the others, grinning smugly. “What say you, ladies and gents? Shall we commence the operation?”

When Peter looked up and realized everyone was looming towards him, flexing their fingers with evil smirks, his eyes went wide. Uh-uh. No way. He scrambled to break free like his life depended on it, but Lang slowed him down just long enough that two massive hands could catch his wrists and pin him to the couch. Thor grinned at the startled hero, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do not take this personally, young one. It is for your own good.”

Peter shook his head, nervous laughter punctuating his words. “No it’s nohot! You know it’s not! Let me gohoho!” He kicked with all his might, but Cap wrangled his legs with his super-soldier strength and sat on them to keep him still. Having his arms pinned was bad; this was worse. He was completely immobile. It took mere moments for the pair to overpower him. Spider-Man was strong, but he was no match for the beefy blonde tag team. He squirmed and wrenched like fly in a web, knowing it was hopeless. Peter was trapped.

And seven other people were towering over him, armed with fourteen hands and seventy fingers. All of which were about to pounce on his defenseless little body.

“W-wahahait!” he cried. “This is so unfair! Oh my gahahad, this is so unfair! There’s nine of you and only one of me!” He searched through the sea of wicked faces in hope of one friendly one. “Mr. Stark, help! Tell them to let me go!”

Peter’s judge of character was very poor. Instead of doing what he asked, Tony stepped forward and immediately began scuttling his fingers all over his torso. Peter jolted and screeched, laughing like crazy.

“Sorry, kid,” Stark chuckled, “but you’ve been kind of a sour puss lately. I think you need this.” Starting at his hips, he kneaded his thumbs all the way up the kid’s sides, making him giggle and flinch helplessly. He switched to clawing at his belly with all ten fingers, which incited an even stronger, gigglier reaction. Tony had no idea Peter was so ticklish. Every tiny touch made him jump and shriek. It was kind of adorable.

“Stohohahap! Oh my gahahad! Plehehehease!” Peter had hoped he could hold out longer than two seconds before crumbling into a mess of squeaky laughter. Apparently not. He could feel the eyes of every Avenger looking down at his ridiculously giggly self, watching him fall to pieces beneath Tony’s tickly fingers, and his face started burning red. “All rihihight! I’m—I’m cured, okay? I’m fihihihixed! I dohon’t need any m-mohore—ahahaha shihihit!”

Someone had started tickling his feet through his socks, and from what he could tell, they had very long nails. “Oh, I think you do,” a female voice said, unmistakably Natasha Romanoff’s. “This is one of the worst cases of Cranky Cassie I’ve ever seen.”

She pulled off his left sock, grabbed hold of his foot, and began tracing his arch with a single finger. It was a softer kind of tickling, but no less unbearable. His laughter climbed when the rest of her nails joined in, skittering across his defenseless sole, stroking both sides of his foot, and digging between his toes. She knew exactly how to make him squirm. Apparently, so did Rhodey, who seized his right ankle, ripped off that sock, and started scribbling over every inch of that foot. Peter bucked and squealed, laughter pouring from him while his feet twitched helplessly.

“Nohohohahaha! Nohohot fahahahair!” He didn’t know laughing this hard was even possible. He didn’t know tickling could be so mean. Tony took his hands off his tummy for a moment, which Peter read as mercy. Again, he was wrong. He was just moving to let someone else take a turn at torturing him. Spider-Man shrieked when something ice cold slipped under his shirt and raked across his bare stomach.

“AHA! Holy crahahap, w-what ihihis that? it’s freeheeheezing!” He glanced down and realized it was Bucky’s metal hand, scratching and tickling his belly. The fact that is was cold made it so much worse, and the feeling of it kneading directly into his skin drove him insane. It was like being tickled by five wiggly ice cubes. He fought as hard as he could to squirm out of his reach. He did not succeed.

“Give it to me straight, doc,” Sam said over the kid’s laughter, feigning concern. “Is he gonna make it?”

Scott shrugged and puffed out his cheeks. “I’m not sure. The disease just won’t seem to budge.” He grabbed his shoulder firmly. “But keep faith, my friend. The treatment seems to be working, and I think we’re on the brink of a breakthrough.”

“Has anyone tried this yet?” Clint asked. Before Peter could even prepare himself, two hands started clawing at his underarms, burrowing into the hollows of eat pit. The whole time he’d been pinned to the couch, Spider-Man had been praying to the highest heavens no one would go for that spot, that they’d tickle him literally anywhere but there. The moment Clint’s fingers met the sensitive skin, Peter lost it.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONONOHOHOHOHO!” His hysterical reaction only affirmed the fact that Barton had struck gold, and he drilled his fingers into his underarms with merciless intensity. Well, guess I’ll die, he thought. Just the armpit tickling was enough to end him, but the the addition of six other hands attacking three more of his most ticklish spots all at the same time was insufferable. He whipped his head back and forth, pulled helplessly against Thor’s unbreakable grip, and arched his spine against the couch, all while laughing his ass off.

“I guess that’s a no,” Sam chuckled.

“I think he’s going to explode,” Cap said, experimentally squeezing the kid’s knees. Peter’s entire body was pink, and his giggling was high-pitched and endless, interrupted only by squeaky hiccups.

“I’d say he’s cured,” Tony proclaimed. “No Cranky Cassie could make that sound.” He turned to Ant-Man with a grin. “Do you concur, doctor?”

“I do,” Scott said, stony and serious. “It’s a damn miracle.”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Peter begged. “STAHAHAHARK! CAHAHAHAHAHAP! SOHOHOMEBOHOHOHODY! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELP!”

Then, just like that, everyone stopped tickling him all at once. Thor released his arms, and Steve climbed off his legs. The relief hit him like a truck. He lied still, dazed with disbelief, then rolled on to his side, wheezing and giggling and loopy with laughter. His cheeks hurt and his sides ached. His skin felt tingly.

“Eheh…heheh…oho my…my gosh…” The Avengers stared at kid with amusement and affection. “Y-you’re all so…so mean…heheh…”

“Congratulations, Peter,” Scott cheered, unpausing the TV. “You are officially no longer a Cranky Cassie. You may now enjoy the movie.”

Spider-Man simply groaned in response. Thor sat beside him.

“And if you don’t,” he warned, pinching Peter’s side and making him squeal, “there will be consequences.”

He jerked away and hugged himself around the middle. “Okay!” he giggled. “I get it! I’ll enjoy it! Promise!”

“Good,” Natasha said. She threw him a bag of gummy worms. “Let’s rot.”

At first, Peter tried to play the part, giggling at every little joke or moment for effect. It took him about two minutes to realize that wasn’t necessary. Maybe it was because his stomach still felt full of fluttery, giggly butterflies, but the movie suddenly seemed ten times funnier than the last time he’d watched it. Without meaning to, he started laughing at all the one-liners, sometimes doubling over himself and choking on his soda. Everyone else was no exception. The room was filled with constant giggling. Tony kept slapping his leg and snorting behind his hand. He felt warm, sandwiched between all these cackling heroes who cared for him, even though they had a weird way of showing it. As he soaked in the joyful atmosphere, the bad grade didn’t seem to mean much anymore. Yes, it was a harsh blow to the goals he’d set for himself. That didn’t mean it defined him. But these people and their smiles and the moments they all shared together? Yeah, those did.

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djpurple3 · 6 years

Text

“I Noticed.”

Sander Sides fic. Oneshot. Pairing: Platonic LAMP, platonic Logince (can be more if so wished) AU: I didn’t think about this too much tbh. Human, high school. That’s all I got lol Prompt: The sentence “I noticed.” Word Count: 1,325 words

Summary: Roman finally gets a chance at the end of the holidays to catch up with his friends before they have to go back to school. Only, something he can’t quite place is different with Logan.

Here we go!

It had been a little while since Roman had seen Logan. Or really, any of his friends. Logan had been away in Europe for a history trip, and Roman had been off on a national representative choir tour all holidays. He was slumped in an armchair at Patton’s place, fending off waves of fatigue as his friends had the first catch up in the three weeks that had been assigned as a break from school. He always joked that there were no such things as holidays. He never felt it more strongly than now.

Patton had laid the coffee table with snacks galore as Virgil plugged in some music in the background. Roman tried not to nod off. Logan came and sat down on the end of the couch closest to Roman, also yawning. “Had good holidays?” asked Roman. Logan snorted. “What holidays?” he retorted. Roman laughed. “That is a big mood,” he agreed, slumping even further into his seat. He ignored the roughness in his voice, but saw Logan wince. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Roman waved it off. “My voice is just coming back.” “You lost your voice on a choir trip?” Virgil overheard, concern colouring his tone. “What do you even do?” Roman laughed. “I held out til the last day, and we’d done all the concerts by then. I just had to croak for a few days. Nothing unmanageable!” Logan frowned. “It doesn’t say much for your singing technique,” he stated. Roman frowned back. “My technique is one of the better ones there,” he replied. “I mean, at least I have breath control,” he snarked under his breath to himself. “But it’s pure overuse. It happens.” Logan looked him in the eye with a calculating look, before shrugging and turning back to his phone. Roman shrugged right back, letting his head fall into the cushioned back of the seat. Patton held up a cookie. “You want one?” Roman nodded. However, he didn’t anticipate that Patton would just throw it at him immediately. The biscuit hit him in the face, bouncing off and landing on his chest with a plop. Patton stared, horrified, as Virgil laughed openly. Roman stared down at it, blinking slowly, before picking it up and taking a bite. “Thanks Pat,” he said. “It’s really good.” Virgil only laughed harder. He heard a snort of amusement from beside him. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched Logan duck his chin to hide the smile that was fighting to show itself on his face. God, he’d missed this.

Trips were fun and all, but all he really needed was to see his friends.

As the movie they’d put on came to a close, Virgil stretched like a cat as Patton yawned. Roman snapped his head up in an attempt to keep himself from dozing off. Logan had settled back comfortably and looked to be in a similar situation. “What time is it?” mumbled Patton. Logan checked his watch. “It’s 12:43... in the morning,” he stated, surprised. “That… where did the time go?” “At least we aren’t doing anything tomorrow,” Virgil said, laying across Patton’s legs and burying his face in his forearms. Roman smiled, nodding in agreement. As they all settled comfortably down, Roman found his eyes drifting to Logan. There was something different about him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It was subtle, whatever it was, but something was not the same as the last time he’d seen the nerd three weeks ago. His hair was styled the same. He had the same pyjamas. He held himself the same. His speech patterns hadn’t changed. Roman found himself studying his friend as Logan went on his phone. Roman’s brow furrowed as he recalled the sketch he’d done of Logan a couple months ago. What was different…? Logan looked up, obviously aware of Roman’s staring. “Is something wrong?” he asked plainly. Roman put his chin in his hand and stared back. “I’m just thinking,” he replied. It was definitely something in the face. His eyebrows were the same shape, his cheekbones as steep as normal. His jaw was still chiselled. The way his cheeks pushed up the thick frames of his glasses when he smiled… Roman blinked. The glasses. They weren’t the thick pair of Austin-Powers-eske glasses that Logan had been wearing for years. They were sleeker, rimless on the bottoms, not as tall in the lens. Logan read the realisation on Roman’s face, and a flash of worry was in his eyes. “What-” “You got new glasses,” Roman stated, restudying Logan’s face to back up his claim. Logan blinked, before smiling. “W-why, yes I did. I got them at the start of the holidays,” he fumbled, a hint of a blush colouring his cheeks. “They look good,” Roman added, flashing a smile back in reassurance. “I was just trying to place what was different.” Patton and Virgil turned to look as well. “I knew something was off, but I couldn’t place it,” Virgil said, nodding in agreement with Roman. “They suit you so well!” Patton seconded. Logan smiled, cheeks flushing. “That’s very kind of you,” he mumbled, looking down at his lap, still smiling ever so slightly. “You’re the first people to take note of the change.” The others blinked at each other. No one else had noticed? Well, new glasses were a subtle change, but surely everyone wasn’t that unobservant. Virgil and Patton decided not to acknowledge the fact that if Roman hadn’t pointed it out they probably wouldn’t been able to place it. “Well,” Roman said gently, patting Logan’s shoulder. “I noticed.” “…My thanks,” Logan replied, equally as soft. The atmosphere was quiet and calm, a natural lull in the conversation filled the air with companionable silence. Patton yawned. He then blushed and laughed it off, apologising profusely. Logan waved off the unneeded apologies flippantly. “Your body clock is perfectly correct,” Logan stated. “It’s late, and we should sleep. Everyone, go get ready for bed.”

Virgil and Patton picked themselves up off the floor, scrambling for their pyjamas in a fight to be the first to the bathroom to change. Roman let them go, the quiet nearly lulling him to sleep as he was. “Roman,” Logan intervened softly, shaking his shoulder. “You’ll be too uncomfortable to sleep like that.” “Mmmm,” Roman mumbled, rolling onto his side, away from Logan. “Roman,” Logan reinstated, his tone losing the softness to be replaced by that famliar edge of irritation that he knew so well. Roman ignored him, pretending to snuggle into the fabric of the armchair and get ready to sleep. “Roman.” Roman shrieked, leaping from the chair and falling to the floor involuntarily as Logan poked him firmly in the ribs. He clapped his hands over his mouth, winded from the landing and embarrassed by the fall. “Logan!” he snapped with no real fire in his voice. “You know I hate it when you do that!” “Then get up and get changed!” Logan ordered, standing over the self-proclaimed prince of the stage with his hands on his hips. Something in his eyes softened. “Then you can sleep, okay?” Roman stared up at him, captured in the moment. Logan extended a hand. Roman took it slowly, and let Logan help him to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “You can use my room to change,” Logan directed, guiding Roman out the door as Roman grabbed his pyjamas from his overnight bag. “Thanks, Logan,” Roman said, smiling through a yawn that he did his best to stifle. Logan patted him, somewhat awkwardly but no less lovingly, on the shoulder. A reciprocation of the physical affection Roman showed him just before. “It’s alright,” he replied. Roman stumbled over his own feet from pure tiredness as he left the room. Logan giggled into his hand as he watched the silly boy leave. He bathed in the warm glow in his chest, before he went about setting up his lounge for sleeping.

#logince #LAMP #Sander Sides #sander sides fanfic #djpurple3's writing yo #fluff #fluffy as hecc #first attempt at anything logince-y #any good?

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chaletnz · 6 years

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6000 Years of History in Plovdiv

I started my day with an alarm at 6.45am because I wanted to be the first to jump in the shower. I was ready in the dining hall waiting for breakfast to start (punktlich!) at 7.30 and then ate as much as I could bear. I was running a little bit behind schedule but managed to leave the hostel at around 8.20am to walk to the metro station. By 8.45 I was arriving at the central bus station where I'd been told that there were buses to Plovdiv every hour on the hour, however there had in fact been one at 6am, another at 8am and the next would be at 11am. I had no choice but to sit at the bus station and wait for it and of course it was full once it eventually left Sofia. Luckily it was quick and I was arriving in Plovdiv at around 1pm but with the free walking tour available only at 2pm I had to dash to the hostel and drop my bag and then walk all the way through the city to the meeting point at the city hall. As soon as I started walking through the city I was kicking myself for staying three nights in Sofia and only one in Plovdiv. Towards the end of the second day on Sofia I'd grown tired of the city and hadn't really enjoyed it as much as I'd expected to. I thought at first that maybe I'd burnt myself out of travel and needed to take a break but Plovdiv was the beauty, culture and fun of Bulgaria that I'd not seen in Sofia. At the city hall our guide Nemko introduced himself to us and we all waited as the group gradually got bigger. I met a family that happened to also be from Frankfurt; Dad was a laugh, Mum didn't speak English and daughter was a bit shy and didn't want to talk with me and her old man! Nemko gave us a short history of Plovdiv and its rulers and names throughout the 6000 years of existence, making it the oldest living city in Europe and the 5th oldest worldwide. Our first stop was on Plovdiv's main pedestrian street which is one of the largest in Europe. Here we stopped at the statue of crazy Milos and learned how he was a bit deaf and a bit crazy as a result of having meningitis as a child, but he sat here on this ledge in the city every day for about 40 years so after he died the city decided to honour his memory with a statue. On some steps right beside Milos' statue there was a brand new attraction - colourful letters spelling "together" to commemorate Plovdiv being chosen as the cultural capital 2019. We followed Nemko to the location of a giant Roman stadium that had been discovered. We stood at the rounded end of the seating and Nemko told us that it would have stretched from here to the Milos statue 250m away and the width was 40m, and a section of ruins was actually in the basement of an H&M shop. He also pointed out the height of the seating, apparently it can be labelled immediately as being a Roman stadium because the bottom seat is raised 2m from the arena, in Greek stadiums the bottom seat is level in the arena but Romans had a penchant for exotic and dangerous entertainment such as lions! On ground level beside this stadium was an old mosque from the Ottoman Empire, which had been built on the site of an old church, which had been built on an old Greek and Roman temple. So this is the long rich history of Plovdiv - this exact site had been used as a place of worship for over 2000 years. Next we entered the Kapana neighbourhood which loosely translates to mean "the trap" in Bulgarian. It was originally an old bazaar and had about 900 stalls selling everything imaginable. Unfortunately they were all made of wood and a huge fire devastated the bazaar in 1808. Now in present day the streets have been carefully tiled and cars removed making it a fully pedestrian zone. It's a hub for art and culture and remains popular with young people as a place to relax and grab a drink in one of the many bars scattered throughout the streets. Our last area to visit was the Old Town of Plovdiv where I was staying; we focused first on some of the revival houses which were built two or three levels high, each wider than the one below. The citizens were looking to avoid high taxes by building a small ground floor and then expanding outwards as they built more floors. Apparently in some streets the top levels were so close together that women could pass a handkerchief to each other through their windows from opposite sides of the street. We took a water and bathroom break in the courtyard of the Ethnographic Museum where Nemko explained to us the history of the house. It originally belonged to a goldsmith who was of course very rich and could afford the extra taxes for having multiple columns and a courtyard but one day he simply disappeared and the municipality started using the house as a girls' school and later a hat factory before it was converted into the museum. Nemko then took us up the Guardian Hill, which is one of the 6, 7 or 8 hills of Plovdiv (the number is up for debate), and we could enjoy some views over the city then we walked up to the top of the old town for our last stops. First a statue of a violinist named Sasha who was also known for his jokes, one day he was asked where the circus was and he pointed proudly to the parliament building stating that it was full of clowns. This was overheard by an undercover policeman and he was taken to a camp and beaten although his official cause of death was listed as pneumonia. Our final stop was amazing; the Ancient Theatre of Philipopolis lay buried in a hill until a landslide destroyed all the houses on it. A man was digging on his backyard in an attempt to repair some of the damage and he found two Roman columns. The entire site was excavated and preserved over the course of the 1980s. After the tour I returned to the hostel to check in to my room and was charmed by the authenticity of it all. Like staying at a Bulgarian grandmother's house, I had an old four-poster bed and a trunk to store my things. I headed back out into the Kapana district to see all of the street art on offer and get some photos, I also sat for an iced Lindt chocolate at the Monkey House cafe and people-watched into the evening. The next day was time to go already unfortunately, I walked once more through Kapana and the main street and then through the Garden of Tsar Simeon but the fountains were unfortunately not singing today. At the bus station I picked up a ticket to Sofia and then grabbed a coffee and muffin for morning tea at Croatóan Specialty Coffee. I spent the rest of the day on buses until eventually I arrived in my next exciting city - Skopje, Macedonia!

#Bulgaria #Plovdiv

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bibleteachingbyolga · 3 years

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For we do now behold thee gay and glad, As at doomsday: When souls shall wear their new array, And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad. —George Herbert, “Death” (17–20)

Do you ever wonder if our faith can really be true? We outlandishly claim, “I believe in the resurrection of the body.” But we never see that happen to anyone. This last week, we celebrated our Easter hope. Jesus said, “Because I live, you also will live” (John 14:19). But the very air we breathe in our culture fills us with dread that this life is all there is.

The message we absorb is to live for now, because when our bodies stop, we stop; there is nothing more. This can seem like brave realism while our faith in life to come seems but a fantasy. How can we answer such reasonable doubts that plague even ardent believers in the midnight hours? I’ve been helped by imagining a literary duel between skepticism and faith. I speculate that this battle occurred between two of the greatest English poets, who wrote just a generation apart.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616) threw down a gauntlet through the graveyard scene in Hamlet. With rapier clarity, Shakespeare evoked our secret fear that in the end the most glorious person ends up as but a clod of dirt plugging a hole. A few years ago, I witnessed the power of Benedict Cumberbatch enacting this scene. I felt my faith reeling. Who could ever write an adequate answer? But not long after, I reread the short poem “Death” by George Herbert (1593–1633). What if Herbert’s poem deliberately took the blow of Hamlet’s realism and then, against the ropes of existential despair, deftly countered with a more triumphant hope?

Follow the Body

Decades earlier, even as a bored teenager enduring an interminable play, I snapped back to attention when Hamlet leapt into the grave and picked up the skull of Yorick, once the king’s jester. We’re fascinated and terrorized to see what lies under our skin. The skull is, of course, necessarily a dead person, and so it has ever symbolized the power of death. It is the emblem of the wisdom tradition of memento mori: remember that you die. As far back as Genesis 3:19, we are reminded, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The bones in a grave grimly demand that we recall how quickly beauty fades and life flees away.

Hamlet remembers the full face of Yorick as he examines the ghoulish, unintended grin of a skinless skull. Once Yorick set the boy Hamlet laughing as they played and joked. But now, “My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed. . . . Where be your gibes now? . . . Your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table at roar?” (5.1.194–98). The merry crowd-pleaser has only dirt for company.

This sight and smell and feel of bones in a grave cause Hamlet to consider the fate of man:

To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole [a plug in a cask]? (5.1.209–11)

The great conqueror Alexander has decomposed into dust, which may now be but corking a keg. Such is the humiliation of our mortal decay. Hamlet continues, picking up a biblical cadence before slamming into the mediocrity of our common fate:

Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel? (5.1.216–19)

We hear an echo of Paul’s great summary of the gospel: “Christ died . . . he was buried” (1 Corinthians 15:3–4 KJV). But Hamlet does not follow Paul to resurrection. Rather, he views our fate as the Genesis return to dust. Further transformation through the centuries means only that the clay that was once us may be used for the most menial purposes. The hard-packed dirt of the plug in the cask of ale at the pub could contain the same molecules as once comprised the body of a mighty king.

Shakespeare’s scene has leveled a serious challenge to faith in the resurrection. It’s as if he says, “Follow the body!” Those who made thousands quake with their power may now be a clump of earth keeping the wind out of a peasant’s wall. Follow the body and see that we do not rise. We merely decompose.

Who has the literary power to answer this scene? What writer can outmaneuver Shakespeare in exposing this primal fear that there’s nothing more than this life?

Beyond These Bones

Not long after attending Hamlet, I happened to reread George Herbert’s “Death.” I jolted with the realization that this could indeed be a direct literary answer to Hamlet’s despair. (In the academic and court circles in which Herbert moved as a young man, awareness of Hamlet would have been as high as what we have of Hamilton today. I think it’s likely that Herbert saw the play, and almost certain he had at least read it.)

With Hamlet in the Grave

Death once again is personified as a skull. The poem opens with words that Hamlet could have spoken:

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The sad effect of sadder groans, Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. (1–4)

For readers in the early seventeenth century, “Death” easily evoked Hamlet in the graveyard. The merry tunes of Yorick were silent in the mouth of a skull. In fact, Herbert’s poem gets more graphic than Shakespeare’s scene. He takes us beyond Yorick’s jesting at a feast to his dying with the moans of terminal suffering, surrounded by the grieving sighs of those who stood by. The juxtaposition between the boisterous laughter at table and the groans upon the bed of death makes this skull become hideous in our hands. To hold the remains of a living person as we imagine his pangs of death seems uncouth: totally inappropriate. In this duel, Herbert will not let Shakespeare best him in horrific realism.

Even in this first stanza, Herbert is already building the foundation of his counter-hope to death. The “sadder groans” remind us of Romans 8: “We know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now” (Romans 8:22 KJV). After the fall of humanity, death entered creation and everything “was made subject to vanity” and placed in “the bondage of corruption” (Romans 8:20–21 KJV). We groan under the futility that everything living in this world must die.

But the glorious twist in Romans 8 is that this subjection to mortality occurred as an act of hope on God’s part. Rather than let our sin be eternalized, God introduced a natural end until the time comes for the full liberation of all creation into new life (Romans 8:21 KJV). So the groans of death are also birth pangs, evoked by our longing for “the redemption of our body” (Romans 8:23 KJV). We groan not just in hopeless sorrow, but precisely because we intuit that there is more to come.

Herbert’s next stanza continues in a way that recalls Hamlet’s gruesome question to the gravedigger: “How long will a man lie i’ the earth ere he rot?” (5.1.168). The sexton’s reply of eight or nine years fits within the poem’s expectation of decay:

For we considered thee as at some six, Or ten years hence, After the loss of life and sense, Flesh being turned to dust, and bones to sticks. (5–8)

Herbert has taken his readers right into the grave with Hamlet, observing what happens to people we know in the decade after they die. We feel the loss of “life and sense.” Hamlet’s reflections looked back farther in time, pondering the results of decomposition through the scattering centuries. That’s why he makes us feel that all human history is encompassed in decay. But Herbert’s next stanza reveals that Hamlet actually had a narrow view:

We looked on this side of thee, shooting short; Where we did find The shells of fledge souls left behind, Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort. (9–12)

Normally, we look on this side of death, the side of material life returning to the earth. That view, declares Herbert’s poem, is shallow. We shoot short. We come up with only a partial answer to what happens to us. The poem wants us to absolutely, realistically follow the body from flesh to dust, from crown to beer barrel. But not to stop there.

Souls Reclothed

Something has happened to give a longer — much longer — and higher view of death:

But since our Savior’s death did put some blood Into thy face; Thou art grown fair and full of grace, Much in request, much sought for, as a good. (13–16)

This is the turning point in the contest. This is the suplex move in a wrestling match, when one combatant uses the full weight of his opponent against him. It is a move that risks defeat and dire injury as the wrestler lifts his opponent, leans fully back, and then flips the other over his head. In theological terms, God created humanity, and humanity sinned, inviting ubiquitous death into creation. But once upon a glorious time, God entered the death-filled world as a man. That God-man died. And paradoxically defeated death. Jesus took the full force of all our dying into himself. He alone among men did not merit death. But on the cross he freely embraced it. He gathered death to himself until it killed him. That appeared to be Jesus’s defeat. Instead it was his suplex. He flipped death in resurrection.

Christ died by exsanguination. It appeared that precious blood was spilled in waste upon the stone and dirt of Golgotha. But Herbert makes us imagine that Christ’s blood was poured into death’s skull, bringing death to life. Paul wrote, “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26). Jesus declared, “Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44). But who could imagine that Jesus included death itself as an enemy to be loved back to life? Here is the genius and novelty of Herbert. Jesus by dying made a friend of death for us! Now death is someone on everyone’s guest list as the life of the party — or, more correctly, as the one who ushers us into the life of the party.

Herbert describes why:

For we do now behold thee gay and glad, As at doomsday: When souls shall wear their new array, And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad. (17–20)

He echoes Paul: “Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump . . . and the dead shall be raised incorruptible” (1 Corinthians 15:51–52 KJV). Grim death, personified as a skull, now becomes personified in glad souls reclothed in everlasting bodies. Death’s bones will be transformed from bunghole stopper to resurrected beauty.

So Herbert concludes with a peacefulness in direct contrast to Hamlet’s agitated melancholy:

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Half, that we have, Unto an honest faithful grave: Making our pillows either down, or dust. (21–24)

Pillows of Dust

Herbert met the challenge from Hamlet’s holding Yorick’s skull. He owned the graphic realism, embraced it, and then exposed how mere skepticism is ultimately a failure of imagination, a narrow response to the reality opened up by Christ. The riches and depth of Jesus’s answer make the realism of Hamlet seem shallow. Our Savior came as a man to the place where all die. He came in such a way that, paradoxically, God could die. His suplex move on the cross not only defeated but transformed death. He put some blood back into death’s face. In a sense, he reconciled with his last enemy. He turned the other cheek and made, on our behalf, a friend of death for those in Christ.

I confess that Hamlet’s challenge has sometimes unnerved me. But I give thanks that I have a literary champion. Herbert took up the skull and embraced death as an agent of transformation from lowliness to glory. Death’s “bones with beauty shall be clad.” And we can lie down in peace, whether on a pillow of down in our beds or of dust in our graves.

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years

Text

Reigning Champions; Part Five

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday, ahoy! Tagging the slew of badasses, @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and naturally @hardcorewwetrash. Enjoy!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains what could be considered D/s behavior or a (light) D/s scene. Stay safe, everyone!]

The attitude of your two men towards Seth had changed drastically after their Survivor Series teamwork. You still didn’t know what Dean had said to Seth but it was obviously something important. Ambrose didn’t bury hatchets easily, so what must have been even more important was what Seth said or did in reply.

When Dean found out he was getting reassigned to Raw, he had been overjoyed. Thundering down the arena hallway to surprise you at your triage area with a loud, “guess who’s back, darlin'!”, then throwing his arms around you and picking you up off the floor in a hug that redistributed your vertebrae. Roman arrived shortly afterward to slam their foreheads together and grin fiercely at his brother. Neither man said anything but you got the feeling that a conversation was going on all the same.

Seth had been excited as well, if his ear-to-ear smile was any indicator while he watched from the proverbial sidelines. Roman ended up hauling him in for a headbutt as well and you privately thought that Seth’s smile somehow got even wider.

Rollins didn’t actually talk all that much when Ambrose and Reigns were around (to your surprise, given his old 'never shuts up' moniker). It was as if he was basking in their company, like he was soaking up every ounce of them that he could get. It was obvious that Seth had missed both men much, much more than he would ever admit aloud, even if he did seem to try and keep them more at arm's length.

He would accept the headbutts freely, but you started to notice a pattern of him looking sad and perturbed every time he was called something affectionate by the other two men, like 'uce' or 'little brother'. He was also dodgy with most friendly contact, like hugs or hands on his shoulders.

Seth didn't seek out your services personally. The younger man usually just trailed along behind Ambrose and Reigns when they showed up with the wounds of the evening, grudgingly permitting you to apply a Band Aid and ice on occasion. He didn't really want to be fussed over, which was understandable given the usual machismo of the wrestling community. It could be a little ridiculous though, the way he would stubbornly deny needing any sort of care despite being bedraggled from the night's match.

...

“I’m fine.” He insisted, trying to fend off Roman outright strong-arming him through the triage area.

You sighed and snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. “What did you do and how did you do it?” Seth was bleeding from the mouth and protecting his right shoulder, all the while declaring he was alright. It looked like the match had been hellish for him.

“He got busted in the face by a Brogue Kick and-”

“You be quiet! I’m fine.” Seth repeated, narrowing his eyes at Roman.

You just nodded and checked his pupils. You didn't miss the way Reigns' fingers hovered over Seth's shoulder nervously. You began to gently swab at Rollins' split lip, mopping up the blood and saliva which kept pooling. “Well you’re lucky. Doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches.” You said after a few minutes of gingerly examining the skin. “An ice pack would probably be a good call, though. Roman, can you-” One of your small ice packs landed in your hand and you smiled gratefully at the large man. “Thanks.”

“Will he live, baby girl?” Roman asked worriedly.

“That remains to be seen. What was Roman going to say about your shoulder?” You asked Seth, who immediately looked sullen.

“Nothing. He wasn’t-”

“There was a botch and I’m concerned for you, Uce.” Reigns grumbled, taking one of the spare elastics you kept handy (why did everyone have so much hair?!) and smoothly gathering Seth’s half-damp locks into a high ponytail. Seth fell silent, holding the ice pack to his mouth.

Rollins shook off the 'strong suggestion' of letting you ice his shoulder. The contusion that formed was an ugly, dark shade of purple-brown and it impeded his movement. Only a little, but if you noticed it...

Seth kept his shirt on during matches until the bruise faded. The Bar seemed to be dead set on causing him grief though, and you found him hobbling back into your triage area clutching his midsection the following week, closely followed by his tag-team partner.

“Let me guess. ‘I’m fine’, right?” You asked, putting down your clipboard.

Seth nodded stubbornly, gesturing at Ambrose. The light-haired man looked concerned. “This…fuckin’ worrier here-”

“Has every right to be worried.” You interjected with a frown. If Ambrose was leery, it was cause for alarm in your book.

“They’re targeting him. I dunno' if his ribs got cracked. You look after Ro and I, I’d really appreciate it if you'd look after Seth as well.” Dean said quietly, one large hand resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “He’s our brother.”

“They’re not targeting me.” Seth muttered once Ambrose had departed. “I’m just an idiot.”

“Hallelujah, some answers!” You joked, making Seth grin wryly. “Listen, I know I can’t make you talk. All I can do is give you a blanket to hold until you feel less like dying after I do what you know I have to do.”

“Do you have to? Can't I just leave?” Seth whined.

You fixed him with a stern look that you'd been practicing on Roman, crossing your arms over your chest. It was gratifying to watch the young man quail slightly. “Rollins, I can't make you stay. All I can do is 'strongly suggest' that you stay. You could barely walk in here on your own, you really want to leave without getting checked out?”

After much deliberation, Rollins permitted you to listen to his lungs and check his sides for anything that might indicate more worrisome issues. Once you were done Seth accepted the rolled-up blanket and curled into the fetal position, grunting in pain. “I’m an idiot.” He said again, opening one eye to look at you. “I’m…Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot.”

“Want to go a little deeper than that?” You asked, taking a seat and beginning to fill out your report.

“Not really, no.”

“You’re someone that they consider family.” You pointed out after a few minutes, pausing in your paperwork to look at him. “They care about you and they want you to be okay.”

“I don’t deserve that.” Seth said bleakly. “Shit, you know our history, you can’t even entertain the idea that…” He exhaled hard, wincing. “I thought things would get easier for my brain, is all.”

“Easier how?” Seth refused to answer, just tucking the blanket up tighter beneath his chin and rocking himself slightly. He looked strangely small, brown eyes watching you warily over the fabric in his hands. “Hey, c'mon. Talk to me, Seth.” You coaxed him.

“Do you guys actually like...uh.” He paused, obviously struggling to find the right words. “You know, the three of you. Together. Is that an actual thing?”

“I fail to see how that has any bearing on you not deserving things.”

“It absolutely does.”

You raised an eyebrow, more than a little confused by the sudden ferocity of his tone.

“You make them happy. You make them actually happy and it...it means so much to me that they found you and that you take care of them and I just...d-don't deserve to be taken care of. Not like this, not by the same woman that makes them happy. I don't deserve their forgiveness. Or yours, for that matter. Don't, you know I'm right.” He warned, seeing you open your mouth to protest. “We've beat the crap out of each other, all three of us in our back and forths and you picked up their pieces while I went scurrying back to Trips or licked my wounds alone-”

“I thought you were tired of being alone.” You managed to interrupt his ramble. “You're back with your brothers again. Isn't that a good thing?”

“I don't know what I can do to apologize to either of them.” Seth said softly. “I don't know what to do and it eats me up inside. I tried to apologize to Ambrose and he accepted it, even though it was super terrible and half-assed. I forgot all the stuff I had written down and I just sat there, started blubbering then he hugged me and told me to shut up. And Roman...Jesus fucking Christ, Roman, where the fuck would I even start? The amount of progress I cost him, all the time and energy just. Gone.” He closed his eyes again, looking exhausted. “I don't know what to do.”

“Listen to me for a sec, okay?” You took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is 'strongly suggest'. If this is hurting you, you need to say something. You can't just pretend everything is okay and refuse care because you made some terrible choices. They're willing to forgive you, even with nothing but your so-called 'terrible' apology on-board.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “And if that isn't the wildest bullshit I've ever heard.”

He departed shortly after that without so much as a goodbye. One second he was there, the next he was gone. Crossfit ninja, you thought in annoyance, starting to fold up the blanket. You hoped you had given him something to think about. Not too much though, he appeared to overthink just fine by himself.

...

It all came to a head at a live show where Cesaro got a little…carried away with his uppercuts. In fairness, they had been intended for Dean, who preferred for hits to crack loudly. Cesaro’s good shoulder was spattered with blood when Ambrose finally broke his rhythm, the lighter-haired man all but dragging him away from Rollins. Seth slumped down to his knees in the corner, cradling his battered face while Dean delivered his finisher to the Swiss Cyborg.

His nose hadn’t been broken, only just. Dean hovered nervously as you settled Rollins down into a chair. “What if a shard of bone ends up in my brain?!” Seth asked frantically. “What if I’m hemorrhaging?”

“Listen. I’m gonna’ fix this right now, okay? But you need to give me a hand.” You said calmly, rolling up a piece of gauze. “I need you to hold this.”

“But-”

“Look, do you want to stop the bleeding or do you want to puke because you’ve got a case of tummy blood? Just hush and hold this where I put it.” You proceeded to wad the gauze underneath his upper lip and then moved his hand to keep it there. “Tilt your head forward a little. Good, over the trashcan. I’m getting you an ice pack. Dean, make sure he stays put.” You ordered.

The ‘Lunatic’ nodded rapidly, kneeling in front of Seth. Rollins had his eyes closed at this point and Dean carefully rested their foreheads together, whispering something to him. You hoped it wasn’t anything that might upset Seth, but you had faith in Dean to keep the other man relatively calm.

You stripped off your gloves and put on a fresh pair, then moved to your cooler for the ice pack. “Rollins, Jesus Christ.” Said Roman’s baritone from behind you. You grimaced, hoping that Seth was sufficiently exhausted from his previous outburst. Roman didn’t look much better than his former partner when you turned back around, he’d been gouged over the eye by something sharp. “The metal on the table, baby girl.” He explained when he saw your disapproving look. “Strowman is going through it one way or another. Push him or Spear him, it doesn’t matter as long as I get him through it.”

“It’s a weird night when Dean escapes unscathed.” You pointed out, making Ambrose snort. “You guys are hopeless. Take a seat next to Rollins, you can hold hands.” You continued in a teasing manner, putting the ice pack on the bottom of Seth’s bruised chin. “Hold that for me, Dean. Do you want gloves too?”

“Darlin', I’ve had this guy’s bodily fluids on me more times than I can count. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Why do you have to say it like that, gross.” Seth groaned.

Roman chuckled, actually taking the younger man’s free hand and patting it comfortingly. “You’re gonna’ be fine. Our baby girl is the best in the business.” He soothed as you began dabbing at the wound over his eye. He and Ambrose had been much more open with their affection towards you as of late, calling you darlin’ and baby girl even if there were other people present. “You’re gonna’ be fine, Uce.”

Seth abruptly got to his feet, yanking his hand out of Roman’s grip and almost knocking Dean over with the speed of his motion. “I gotta’ go.”

Ambrose latched onto his leg, fingers digging into Seth’s tights. “No.”

“What the hell do you mean, no? Fuck you Ambrose, you can’t-” Roman carefully caught Seth’s flailing hand again, easing it back down. “Fuck you, Roman, let go of me!” Rollins growled, swatting the larger man’s shoulder with a closed fist. “You guys just-just--look, I need to go! I can’t do this shit, I need to go.” His voice quieted down. “I can’t. I don’t deserve this, okay? O-fuckin’-kay? I’m all twisted up inside and I don’t…just lemme’ leave.”

“Little bro-” Ambrose began, and Seth exploded.

“Stop it!” He yelled, ripping himself out of both Dean and Roman’s grip and nearly toppling in the process. “Stop fucking calling me that, stop touching me! Jesus fuckin’ Christ it’s not fair! All I can think about when I look at you guys is all the shit that I’ve done to you and you just--how can either of you stomach touching me, looking at me?” He asked, wild eyes landing on you. “And you! How many times did you have to patch them up because of me or ‘Tista or Orton or whatever?”

“It’s my job.” You said quietly. As hard as that was some days. You continued with your treatment of the wound over Roman's eye as Seth stood there with his chest heaving.

“I haven't even actually apologized to you yet!” He shouted at Roman, who didn't so much as flinch. “I pussed out with Ambrose and I wrote up even more stuff for you but I'm scared, okay?! I'm fucking scared!”

“I know.” Roman said calmly.

“You...wait, what?”

“I found one of your drafts, you left it crumpled on the floor in the locker room of the PC. I wasn't sure if it was important.” Roman shrugged. “You've got a way with words, Rollins. Always have. Although I feel like calling me ‘the Samoan god-killer’ is...over the top.”

Seth looked like he wanted to burst into flames, his face bright red. “I--look, man, there's a reason why I chucked it-”

“Not to mention what you said about Ambrose, damn son.” Reigns continued, making Dean perk up in interest.

“What, what'd he say about me?”

“Nothing!” Seth squawked, giving Roman a panicky glare. “Don't you dare Reigns, don't you dare I will end you.”

“Aw c'mon, no fair!” Ambrose protested, “I wanna' know what you said about me! S'it rude or something?”

“It's private, and you are not repeating it in front of gentle company!” Seth commanded haughtily, making you look up in surprise. You'd been called a variety of names in your line of duty, but that one was new.

Roman just chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “'Gentle company', huh? I think there might have been something about her in there too, now that you mention it.”

“Roman-!”

“Me? Why me?” You asked curiously as you carefully taped the gash over Roman's eye closed.

“He uses real flowery terms to talk about you, baby girl. At least, he did in his draft.” Reigns tapped his chin, feigning deep thought. “'Her hands are healing, her smile the sunshine that my brothers needed, what I could never give', sound about right?” His expression had changed rapidly from teasing to serious. “'The little prodigal brother'.”

“Reigns, I told you to stop.”

“I always missed that, you know.” Roman said like Seth hadn't spoken. “I liked reading the stuff you would come up with. You're incredibly creative when you're allowed to be-”

“Reigns-”

“-and you're dedicated as hell for drafting and drafting until you think you finally got something you can say.”

“Fat lot of good it did me. I got three sentences in with Ambrose and started crying so damn hard I couldn't even talk!” Rollins stormed off and you were worried that Reigns had pushed him too far, but he came stomping back in a minute with his phone in hand. “You wanna' see it so bad? Here it is. Stop making fucking fun of me, you dickhead.”

Roman shook his head, gently pushing the device back to Seth. “I'm not making fun of you Uce, c'mon. I know that writing is important to you.” He chided. “And what's important to you is important to me, to him and to her.” He gestured to you and Ambrose in turn. “You took the time to write it out. So we're going to hear you out. In full. Crying jags and all.”

“Not here, right?” Ambrose asked quickly.

“Nah, our room. You're riding with us, little bro.” Roman's tone brooked no argument and you wondered at the way Rollins' flush deepened.

“It'll be like old times! 'The Shield, for one night only'!” Dean exclaimed with that familiar grin, extending a fist to Seth. Rollins reached out slowly to touch his knuckles to Dean's, like he was still afraid of getting attacked.

“Yeah? Like old times?” His smile was tentative.

“Well, with a little more.” Ambrose slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss your temple.

…

Rollins was a pacer. He looped a path by the bed to the window, then back to the door while Ambrose rinsed off in the shower and Roman did his nightly routine. Seth’s hair was still damp from his own quick scrub at the venue. His chin looked tender, but he’d declined your offer to bring him some more ice.

You finally gestured for him to sit down on the bed. “You might want to rest your legs. I don’t think either of them knows the definition of ‘timely’.”

His smile was wistful. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I’m uh. I’m kinda’ a wreck.” He apologized, sitting down as far away from you as possible and starting to fidget. “Scared how you guys will react. This is some pretty weak stuff.” He tried to laugh but it missed the mark, coming out as a sad little snicker. “It's...writing it all down is one thing. Having the balls to say it out loud is something entirely different.”

“You don't have to be scared.” You said firmly. “You have nothing to worry about while I'm here.”

“Hope you're right.” Seth replied.

You sidled up closer to him and patted his leg. “I can stop some bleeding, but yours isn’t the kind I’m experienced with. I’m sorry, not great with words.”

“You’re doin’ fine. Thanks.” Seth mumbled, his body sagging against your own heavily. “I’m just gonna’ close my eyes for a second.”

“You do that.” You said softly, shifting so you could rest his head in your lap. “You’re safe.” Your fingers stroked through his hair and he made a quiet noise in his throat, curling up a little. That was how Roman and Dean found the two of you, your own eyes growing heavy as you petted their little brother.

“Darlin’, lay down.” Dean urged and you nodded sleepily, Ambrose carefully moving the younger man from your lap so you could scoot up the bed. “Rollins, hey. Get up top, bud, give our darlin’ a hug.” Dean whispered. Seth groaned but obeyed, his arms wrapping around you and cradling you to his chest.

You heard Roman chuckle, sounding surprised. “They’re cute together, Uce.”

“Not yet they ain’t.” You felt Dean settle down behind you, his arm flung over your ribs. “Get in here, bro. This picture isn’t perfect til’ we have our Samoan god-killer.”

Roman’s fingers grazed Dean’s on your side after a minute, and then the large man climbed over the three of you to lay down beside Rollins. When you opened your eyes, Roman had his face buried in Seth’s hair, murmuring something so softly you couldn’t hear it. You closed your eyes again, snuggling into Seth’s chest.

The next morning, you woke to Roman humming quietly in your ear. Seth was tangled up in his arms, clinging tight to the larger man. Ambrose had his entire body wrapped around you as usual. Reigns’ eyes were alight with amusement when they met your own over Seth’s head. “Couple a’ friggin’ octopuses.” He grinned.

You smiled back. “Isn’t it great?”

“The best.”

…

I know I’ll never make it up to you guys. I can try as hard as I want but it won’t fix what I’ve done. I wish that I had talked to either of you instead of letting it happen.

I had to get away. The feelings that I had were strangling me; I jumped at the first chance I could to try and regain control of my emotions. I figured making myself the villain would fix everything for me, kill my feelings because the two of you would be forced to kick my ass time and again. I guess I hoped you guys might beat it out of me, tear free the cancer I thought I had.

But it just made everything worse. Even with everything I did, it always ached. I knew it was wrong to run from who I am. I knew it was wrong to sign on with Trips and I knew it was wrong to throw myself at you guys over and over. I wanted you to hate me. You’re supposed to hate me. It’s easier that way…

Then she came along. She was there before, of course. Didn’t really notice her at first, just another medic. She’s something special though, she makes the powerhouse smile and the lunatic stop twitching. She makes them happy, she does what I was too cowardly to do. Loves them both, fixes them where I never could.

When we all fought for the belt I was just so happy to be in the same ring as the madman and the big dog again. I overstepped and, trying to retreat, I reverted back to my villain behavior because it was easier. It’s always been easier.

Then Survivor Series happened. I didn’t understand why AJ would just let Ambrose get eliminated, hobbled his team right out of the gate. But when Dean came back…I remember my neck screaming from AJ’s kick and my whole body hurt, I looked at Roman while security was swarming Ambrose.

Roman nodded at me. Nodded at me, like he knew what was going through my head. “We’re exhausted, he’s on the other team, that doesn’t matter because he’s our brother.” And we did what we had to, cracking skulls and tossing bodies to get to our brother.

“You will always be our little brother, got that, you piece of crap? And nobody kicks my little brother in the back of the neck except me.”

Years of my hard work flushed down the drain with a couple of rough words and a hug. Years of denying and hiding and being scared. No more now, no more.

I’m Seth Rollins, Kingslayer, and I’ve always wanted more than friendship from the Samoan god-killer and the Cincinnati never-quit. I’ve always wanted to be more than the little brother. I don’t know exactly what I want, just more. But if that’s all I ever get to be, I’m grateful for even that much.

Thank you to the one who has healing in her hands, thank you to the one who can love them as freely as I should, as much as they deserve. Thank you to my brothers, my friends, even when we played rough.

I’m Seth Rollins and I’m so, so sorry.

…

Seth ended up cancelling his room reservations for the rest of the tour, at the bequest of his brothers. They asked you about it, of course, but you waved off their concern. You had no issues with Seth if they didn’t, and obviously they didn’t. It was a little awkward if Dean or Roman felt…needy, but other than that there were no problems.

“Do you guys have some kind of schedule or something?” Seth asked on the last night of the tour. The two of you were waiting by the elevator for Roman and Dean.

You looked up at him, a little confused. “Schedule?”

“Yeah, like who gets you on what day.” Seth shrugged, his face looking decidedly red. “Since they share you and all.”

“Oh! Oh. Um, it’s never really come up. They’re usually together anyhow.” Your own face began to feel warm.

“God.” Rollins swallowed hard, the noise loud. “Isn’t that overwhelming, though?” He asked all in a rush.

“It can be. But I trust them to respect my limits.” You could tell that Seth was thinking hard by the way he frowned. “Why?”

“I’d be scared shitless.” He said bluntly. “Like I know it’s not happening to me but, I mean, damn. I can barely handle getting vulnerable with one person as far as being uh. Intimate. Goes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fixed firmly on the floor and that flush still on his face. “You're really brave, y'know.”

You tugged his chin up after a minute, searching his eyes. “Hey, if you have something you need to say...” You trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

Seth looked startled, like he hadn't expected you to notice. “I'm that obvious, huh?” He leaned down into your touch, closing his eyes. “We all used to sleep in the same bed, you know.” He said softly. “We'd sleep together, eat together. We were inseparable and I...I got attached. I got scared. I'd never felt like that about anyone before and all of a sudden I was feeling that way about more than one person?”

“I understand that.” Your reply was just as quiet.

“I guess you would.” Seth pecked you on the forehead, smiling sadly.

“Sorry about the wait, guys!” Dean said, sounding almost suspiciously cheery as he came up behind Seth. Rollins jumped back, looking guilty. “You guys having a good convo?”

“Yeah, yup! Good um, good stuff. Where’s Ro?” Seth asked, clearly flustered.

“He’ll be along in a second. Darlin’ can I borrow you real quick?” Dean barely waited for your nod before he latched onto your arm and dragged you away.

“Dean, are you-?” Ambrose shoved you up against the wall the second you turned the corner, his mouth hot on your own. You whimpered, confused and a little excited. Needy Ambrose was always a treat.

“Darlin’, Reigns and I got a new proposition for you.” He finally gasped out, smiling fondly. “After Seth’s apology, well, we kinda’ got to thinkin’.”

“Wait. If this is going where I think this is going, my answer is yes.” You interrupted what promised to be a very typical, long-winded explanation ala Ambrose. “You want to include him, right? Or at least give him the option?”

“Damn, and here I thought you’d be surprised. Well. We weren’t gonna’ spring it on you out of the blue, that’d just be inconsiderate.” Dean floundered momentarily and then Roman came around the corner. “She’s in, Reigns.”

“Baby girl, you have no idea how happy that makes us.” Roman said gratefully, cupping your face to kiss you. “Alright, let’s figure this shit out and get back before Rollins comes looking.”

…

You hadn’t been this turned-on and nervous in ages, crossing and uncrossing your legs constantly in the car ride to the hotel. Roman finally put a hand on your thigh, stilling you. “Don’t worry so much.” He said quietly, rubbing in calming circles.

The ride in the elevator up to the room felt like an eternity, Dean swaying from side to side in time with the customary smooth jazz.

In the room Rollins seemed relatively at ease, all things considered, dropping his backpack onto the floor and almost immediately starting to rummage through it.

Roman took a moment to collect himself in the doorway, his shoulders noticeably tense. So you weren’t the only nervous one. “Seth, we have a…” Roman met your eyes for a second, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “We have a proposition for you.”

“For me? Uh, okay. Shoot.” Rollins warily straightened up, watching as Dean continued to rock back and forth to the music now only he could hear. Roman advanced on the younger man, not stopping until he was towering over him. The situation was oddly similar to the first time you had engaged with Reigns and Ambrose.

“You want this. Even though I lost. You want us. You want me.”

You had no idea why you seemed to be instrumental to helping in more ways than one, but you were more than content with the way Seth swallowed hard. “Do you want to share us? Like how we share her? We would share her with you too, of course.” Roman offered, his palm outstretched like he was calming a skittish animal.

Seth's eyes darted to your own, then back to Reigns. He looked startled, to put it mildly. Shell-shocked was probably a better term. “I...uh.”

“You said in your apology that you'd always wanted more from us.” Roman pressed. “Dean and I have talked it over. With each other and with our baby girl. Communication is a massive part of everything that we do, we're not going into this blind. I promise. Now, I don't really know what you've experienced, if you've ever come across anything like...like what we have before. And I don't know if we can give you what you need. But we can try.”

“We're all equals here.” Dean picked up when Roman stopped. “We don't own her or anythin' like that. And that's how it would stay if you joined. You don't get owned, we could take care of you. The three of us. If you're good.” Dean threw that last one out and you watched, interested when Rollins straightened up abruptly.

Ambrose meandered around the younger man to kiss you, moving you back and forth still in time with that tune from the elevator. You accepted his kisses gladly, hoping to convince Seth that he was as safe as you were, that nothing would happen to him. Rollins made a soft noise as you and Ambrose kissed. “God, you're so pretty when he kisses you.” He murmured, sounding almost like he didn't know he was saying it out loud.

“Something you want to be part of?” Roman asked quietly.

Seth nodded slowly. “I can't though. I don't deserve that. Not by a long shot.” He replied just as quietly.

“You really think we would be offering you a spot in this clusterfuck if we didn't think you deserved it to some extent? Shit man, you've been your own worst enemy for ages. Isn't it about time you got to be you, without any nasty thoughts about it?” Dean reasoned, urging you to turn around and face Seth. “Our darlin' is the best when it comes to fixin' things. You know this, little bro.”

“You really...”

“Yes.” Roman said firmly. “And if you're good for us, maybe we'll let you touch her.”

“Oh.” Seth's voice was breathless. “I can be good, Roman.”

“Prove it.” Dean smirked at Rollins over your shoulder, his stubbled jaw brushing your cheek as he undid your jeans. “Kiss him.”

“Wh...what?” Seth asked, his eyes gone wide.

“You heard him.” Your own voice sounded almost too loud in your ears. “Kiss Roman.”

“It's just me, Uce.” Roman said when Seth froze. “Unless you don't want to. That's okay too, I mean-” Seth kissed Roman hard and Dean snarled into your neck, seeming satisfied. Roman carded his fingers through the younger man's hair, breaking their kiss to stare at him intently. “Us? Or just me?” He asked quietly.

“All of you.” Seth choked out, his fingers finding your own.

Roman smiled. “You're as bad as she is, you know that? She's the same way.”

“We planned on asking her to share us when Roman and I won the belts. Shit went belly up and she still said yes.” Dean mouthed over your neck. “She's a trooper.” His fingers teased and tugged at your underwear and you whined, arching your back against him to urge those fingers on their quest. “You want to touch her like this, don't you Rollins?”

“I do, I do-”

“You can't.” Reigns' tone was stern and Dean groaned, pressing his lips to your jaw.

“Big dog voice, god-killer voice.” The 'Lunatic' sounded thrilled. “Shit yeah.”

“What you're going to do, Rollins, is you're going to sit in that chair. And you can watch Dean fuck her. And maybe, maybe, touch yourself.” Roman laid out the rules as though he'd done this a hundred times, his hand burying itself in Seth's hair like he couldn't help but give it a tug.

You would have been worried but the expression on Seth's face was one of bliss. He needed boundaries, you realized, needed orders and restrictions.

The younger man nipped at one of Roman's fingers when the large man released him and Roman was instantly on duty, wrenching Seth's head to the side. “Watch it. Or you won't even get to touch yourself.” Roman warned, “I'll sit you in that chair and tie your hands behind your back with your wraps, don't push your luck.”

“Be good for the big dog and maybe I'll give you a treat later, okay Rollins?” Ambrose winked and Seth flushed violently. “Just a little somethin’ for behavin’.”

Seth gave Roman a look, all wet brown eyes as he took Roman’s hand in his own. “M’ sorry, I didn’t mean to. I promise.” He apologized.

Reigns growled out a swear that seemed only half-exasperated, cupping Seth’s jaw fondly. “I shouldn’t be surprised, you punk.”

“It ain’t his fault you’re all bitable skin, Reigns.” Dean pointed out, snapping his own teeth hungrily. He rubbed your clit through your panties, making you whimper out a delighted noise. “All bitable skin and pullable hair.”

“Try it and I’ll snap you in half.” Roman threatened, grinning at the blond man to soften his words. “Strip, both of you. You know what to do.”

Dean helped you out of your clothes before quickly fumbling out of his own, that smirk back on his face as he situated you over him with your back to his chest. This was a favorite position of your two men for a few reasons, one of which was going to become rapidly apparent. You spread your legs eagerly and Dean wasted no time settling his cock on your pussy, rubbing back and forth teasingly before finally thrusting into you. “Fuck, always so perfect for us.” He grunted.

You heard Seth groan when Roman lowered his mouth to you. The larger man looked up the length of your body and winked, messily licking up your arousal while Dean fucked you. Roman seemed to love this position and any variants of it. As long as his mouth was on you and Dean’s cock was in you, he was content.

Roman nibbled gently at your clit, pausing to shove the hair back out of his face. Rollins echoed your desperate noise at the pause and Dean huffed out a breath. “That’s hot, fuck.” He grunted in your ear. You could feel the curve of his smirk pressed to your shoulder blade. “Let’s get more out of him, what do you say darlin’?” Roman pressed the flat of his tongue to your clit, lapping at the underside of Dean’s cock in the process. Ambrose gritted a swear through his teeth, “Fuck,” and settled your body back a little tighter against his own. “Dammit, Roman-”

Reigns growled against you and you cried out, your free hand tangling in his hair while Ambrose focused on fucking the breath out of you. He pressed on your back, pushing you until you were almost upright so he could buck his cock up into you in earnest. Roman fastened his mouth over your clit, flattening his tongue again to attack you mercilessly.

Seth had started rubbing himself through his jeans, the bulge of his cock straining the tight fabric. His voice met your ears, quiet panting and mutters of ‘please’ over and over. You weren’t exactly sure what he was begging for, but the idea of proud, sometimes downright arrogant Seth Rollins pleading was enough to make your body quiver.

Your thighs were shaking, every muscle in your body screaming for more and you came apart with Dean’s hand over your mouth to muffle your noise. It barely mattered though, because Roman’s chest-deep, gravelly rumble of satisfaction almost drowned it out. He slowed his rhythm of licks, mindful of your heightened sensitivity while Ambrose gasped in your ear about how good you felt.

“You want to touch her, don’t you? You’d love to touch us right now, wouldn’t you?” You vaguely understood that Ambrose was goading Seth, maybe flexing a little because he knew the younger man couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Wanna’ run your hands all over, touch and taste and feel, I bet you do I bet you fuckin’ do.” Dean rambled, his pace quickening. “Oh you can fuck her, you can absolutely fuck her. With supervision, right Reigns?” He continued. You could practically visualize the mean grin he was no doubt shooting Rollins, all sharp teeth and sex-drunk.

Seth whined, the sound startlingly high. “Don’t tease me Dean don’t fucking tease me, m’ already so close-”

“Don’t you dare come yet.” Roman ordered gruffly, “If you come, you’re not touching any of us. Hands off.” Even Roman seemed surprised at the speed Rollins obeyed, his hands dropping to clench on his thighs. “Good boy.”

“Fuck.” Ambrose snarled again, obviously just as affected by the ‘good boy’ as Rollins. “Not fair, Reigns, not fucking fair.”

“Less talking, more fucking. Your own fault for trying to wind him up.” Roman shrugged, absently palming himself through his loose shorts. “You alright, baby girl? Gonna’ come again?”

You could barely muster up the air to answer, every rock of Dean’s hips against your own robbing you of your breath. “Y-Yes, ple-please--” You begged and Ambrose’s fingers started teasing the peaks of your breasts, tugging and playing with them mercilessly.

He was putting on a show and you loved every second of it, the way he had you stretched out on full display at his leisure. “Darlin’, darlin’ you feel so fucking good around me, fuck.” Dean groaned.

“Oh God, Roman please, please please please let me touch please-” Seth started to beg again but Roman shook his head, a smirk becoming more and more apparent as Dean picked up his pace.

It was a sure sign that Ambrose was going to come and Roman took that information and ran with it. “Ambrose is so close, he’s so fucking close he can taste it, Seth, he’s gonna’ fuck everything he’s got into her and then…well, we’ll see I guess.” Roman continued to try and play nonchalant, still stroking himself through his pants as he watched you get fucked.

Your orgasm rolled over you in a wave and you collapsed, shuddering against Dean as he drove himself into you over and over before you felt him spill inside you.

Seth bit down on his fist and Roman groaned, “That’s right,” while Dean twitched and bucked underneath you.

“Thank you, Dean.” You sighed softly, cupping his cheek and kissing his jaw. “You’re so good to me.”

“Love you so much.” Ambrose replied, sounding almost shy. You knew this must have been harder on him than he wanted to admit, what with his previous fears of being replaced. You nuzzled your nose into his neck and he chuckled. “Tickles.”

“Alright, I think Rollins has been very good, don’t you Uce?” Roman asked pointedly. “If you’re still up for it, baby girl?”

“Like I would say no to anything after that.” You snorted, still trying to stop your legs from shaking.

Dean laughed outright, carefully rolling you onto your stomach and tousling your hair fondly. “Take a breather, darlin’.” Seth looked back and forth between Dean and Roman, his expression caught in the middle of scared and hopeful. “I told you Rollins, with supervision.” Dean reminded him, that sharp grin back. “Lay down on the bed. Strip.”

Seth wasted no time in following Dean’s orders, his shirt already half off when Ambrose finished speaking. He reached out to you and then hesitated, cringing a little as he glanced guiltily to Roman and Dean for permission. Roman nodded finally and Seth tugged you into his arms, his hands hungrily gripping you anywhere he could reach. He explored you with a restrained excitement that was intoxicating, his own body trembling all over just from being able to touch you. You rewarded his care with a kiss and he moaned into your mouth, seeming almost overwhelmed.

“Easy, little bro.” Roman soothed, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“God you’re so good to them, so good to my brothers, thank you.” Seth mumbled into your neck and you cradled him to your body, stroking his hair.

Roman’s large hand tugged at Seth’s shoulder, pulling the two of you apart. “On your back, Rollins.”

“Wait! Please, I…c-can I have one more?” Seth asked, his voice wavering slightly. “Please?”

“You’re safe with me, remember?” You answered gently, giving him the kiss he requested. Dean climbed onto the bed and pinned Seth’s wrists to the bedspread, grinning at you when Rollins struggled momentarily.

“We told you Rollins, under supervision.” Roman undid the younger man’s belt achingly slow, making sure to press his palm down on the swell beneath Seth’s zipper.

“Oh Jesus, fuck, please-“ Rollins panted. “Yes yes yes, thank you Roman, thank you Dean.” He gasped as Roman unzipped his jeans and peeled them down his thighs, over his knees.

“Don’t thank us yet.” Roman looked to you. “You ready, baby girl?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You replied, feeling a little breathless yourself at the idea of having the enthusiastic individual. “I’m all-” Dean cut your words off with a ferocious kiss, letting go of one of Seth’s wrists to bury his fingers in you. You whimpered into Dean’s mouth, the sensation of his fingers thrusting and claiming you again lighting you up inside.

What made it even better was Rollins’ soft snarl of “Yes.” The click of his teeth at the end of the statement made Roman grunt something that sounded like ridiculous, and you giggled into Dean’s kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ambrose.” You murmured and Dean shrugged in reply, holding Seth down again. “You ready, Roman?” You tossed a smile over your shoulder at the large man, who had finally managed to get Seth’s pants entirely off.

Roman nodded, dark eyes watching you intently as you straddled Seth and lowered yourself onto his cock. Rollins threw his head back, his hips jolting up to sheathe himself faster but you firmly held him down. You knew he could easily overpower you, and the fact that he was able to pretend to struggle against you spoke to him having more self-control than you’d thought.

“Please, please please-” He chanted, his hands clenching restlessly in Dean’s hold. “Oh God please, take all of me take all of me please.” His voice deepened when you finally sat on his hips, “Yes fuck, oh my God.”

“Doesn’t she feel amazing? Our darlin’ is the best.” Dean winked at you and you flushed. “She’s great when I fuck her and then Ro fucks her and then I fuck her again, because she’s all sloppy with us and she begs so damn pretty. Almost as pretty as you.”

You felt Roman’s hand on your shoulder blade, pushing you down almost flat on Seth’s chest in the familiar position. “Still alright, baby girl?” Roman’s voice sounded strained. “God, the two of you are so pretty like this. Little brother helpless underneath you. You love it, don’t you Seth?”

“I do, I do, God I do.” Seth agreed, his eyes widening gratifyingly when he felt Roman’s dick rub against his own. “Oh! What-“ His words stopped abruptly, Roman’s hard cock penetrating you alongside his own with minimal resistance. Ambrose had done his best to get you relaxed and well-lubricated, after all.

“Breathe, baby girl, breathe.” Reigns choked out, a hand on the small of your back grounding you. You already wanted to writhe and fuck back on the two cocks, your body bright in the haze of pleasure. The only thing that stilled you was Roman’s hand, Dean’s voice crooning things like ‘good girl’.

Seth thrashed in Dean’s grip, his chest heaving against your own as he struggled to kiss you, touch you. “Oh my fucking God yes Roman yes yes-” He gasped, his hips easily managing a rapid tempo to counter Roman’s slow, deep strokes.

“I told you.” Roman grunted, holding tight to your hips. “Under. Fucking. Supervision.” With every movement the two of them rubbed together inside you and you found yourself helpless, rocked back and forth at the mercy of the two men fucking you.

“I’m gonna’ come, I’m gonna’ come, I’m gonna’ come--” Seth sobbed into your mouth, sounding desperate.

“Not yet you’re not.” Dean jerked his chin at Roman and Reigns stopped instantly. You could feel his thighs twitching restlessly but other than that he was stock-still.

Rollins made a despairing sound, trying to wiggle, move, anything to no avail. Roman rumbled in his chest, hushing the younger man. You, however, weren’t so easily silenced. “Roman, Seth, please-” You begged, squirming and clenching around the two cocks. Roman’s forehead hit your shoulder blade and he swore under his breath while Rollins cried out. “Please, please, I need you to move, I need to come-!” You had lost the shame of expecting your release ages ago, Roman and Dean practically demanded you to be vocal and now vocal you most certainly were. “Fuck me, fuck me please!”

“Baby girl-” Roman snarled and wrapped his hands around Seth’s thighs, using the thick muscle as extra leverage to pull you against him. Rollins threw his head back, his hair a gloriously tangled mess around his head as he panted and whimpered to you through clenched teeth. You clung tightly to Seth as he and Roman pistoned into you, one fast and shallow while the other was slow and deep, making the pit of your stomach ache sweetly.

“God you’re so beautiful, you’re so fucking beautiful please come on my cock, please please come on my brother’s cock please fuck us please-!” Seth’s voice cracked and Dean whistled, seeming impressed.

“You gonna’ come for them, darlin’? Gonna’ give little brother what he wants?” Ambrose asked, “He begs so nice for it, doesn’t he? Shoulda’ done this ages ago Ro.”

“Hindsight.” Roman managed to say. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say Seth was the one getting fucked instead of you, baby girl.”

That visual sent a hot wave through your body and you cried out against Seth’s shoulder, the young man underneath you moaning and shuddering when you came. “Thank you, thank you, oh God-” He groaned softly, knocking his forehead into your jaw.

“Now I’m gonna’ fuck you, Seth.” Roman grunted, his pace suddenly changing to quick and hard. Seth buried his face in your neck, his pelvis rolling helplessly with every thrust of Roman’s cock rubbing his own. “Gonna’ fuck that shitty fear right out of you and baby girl here is gonna’ take every drop and then, Ambrose is gonna’ kiss you.”

“Because we love you, little bro.” Dean said quietly. “It doesn’t matter to us. We love you.”

Seth’s silent tears dampened the skin of your throat as your eyes rolled back in your head, everything feeling too good for you to focus on keeping them open. You stroked his hair and cradled him to your body when he came, a loud sob escaping him as Roman followed immediately after.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” Reigns panted, sounding terrified. Rollins shook his head, his face still sheltered in your neck as he mumbled thank you over and over. “Jesus. Are you sure? You…you’re crying little bro. Baby girl, you’re okay right? I’m so sorry.” Roman eased himself out of you at your nod and Ambrose quickly released Seth’s arms, like he’d forgotten he was holding the other man down.

“Rollins don’t cry man, usually people only cry after I kiss them.” Dean’s joke got a watery snicker out of the younger man.

Roman laid down beside the three of you, still looking concerned. “Talk to us Seth, what happened?” He asked gently. “Did I overstep? Was I reading it wrong?”

“No, hell no, spot f-fucking on.” Seth sniffled. “Just kind of hit me all at once that this was really happening, that you guys would do this for me or share this with me. I…thank you for…thank you for including me.” He finished awkwardly, accepting the tissue Ambrose grabbed from the box on the bedside table. He cupped the back of your neck and gave you a grateful kiss that made your insides want to liquefy all over again. “Thank you especially to you, holy shit. Ambrose wasn’t kidding when he said you were a trooper.”

“I still feel like I got the better end of the bargain. Although I may need help walking tomorrow.” You gave Roman a pointed look and he winced.

“That’s definitely my bad. I’ll carry you and do all the driving, okay?”

“Damn, Reigns must really like you. When he Speared me accidentally all I got was the ‘I’ll do all the driving’ offer. And then he drove with his eyebrows drawn together the whole time, like a damn disappointed parent.” Dean huffed indignantly and Rollins cackled with laughter.

“I remember that! You weren’t much better though, you just glared out the window the whole ride. You guys were impossible.”

“Oil and water, Uce.” Roman head butted Dean and the ‘Lunatic’ poked his tongue out between his teeth as he smirked. “Give Rollins his kiss. He’s earned that shit.”

“Pushy pushy. Next time I call all the shots, big dog.” Dean challenged, pushing his head back against Roman’s with that smirk still in place. Roman chuckled ruefully and Ambrose relented, ducking down to kiss Rollins.

Roman heaved you off of Seth, your body limp and sated in his arms. “We wore you out, huh baby girl? Let’s get you clean and then you can sleep. Promise.”

“I’m holding you to that one.” Your eyes slid closed and you shivered pleasantly when his hand wandered to caress your thighs.

“Christ, look at the mess we made.”

“It was amazing, shut up.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your face into his chest. “Onward to the bathroom, noble god-killer.”

Roman’s warm laugh was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep between the three men, Seth tucked to Dean’s back, your back to Dean’s chest and Roman holding Seth’s hand where it rested on your hip. You were freshly showered, warm, and (most importantly) content as your men talked quietly among themselves.

“Who knows? Maybe someday the Hounds Of Justice will ride again.”

#dean ambrose #roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose/roman reigns/seth rollins/female reader #ALL THE FEELS #hurt/comfort #thirst party saturday #I'm trying to fix the nonsense WWE caused with Seth #can you tell #this got out of hand as always #wwe #wrestling #Female reader #no timestamp on this one though sorry #implied sub!Seth #implied dominant!Roman and/or Dean #here have this smut #the shield #Believe in The Shield

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icecoldparadise · 6 years

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Thankful for a Change

Moxiety, Logince

I know not everywhere celebrates Thanksgiving, but here in Murica we do. So have fluff.

No trigger warnings.

After the adventure of Halloween, the four men retreated to their own rooms for a much needed recharge period. They still ate meals together and worked on videos with Thomas, but no one was offended when the others kept to themselves for about a week. During that time, Virgil managed to convince himself the events from Halloween (especially between him and Patton) were just the influence of the holiday’s magic and withdrew even more from the others; Logan relished the quiet monotony of scheduling events and reorganizing information; Roman redecorated his room to reflect the new friendship dynamic he and the other sides had established (he refuses to tell anyone how he got pictures of them all in costume); and Patton looked back on the recent memories fondly while excitedly anticipating the next big event. Logan and Patton united first from the break with a common goal in mind: they needed to start planning their Thanksgiving celebration, which required both memories of past successes (and failures) and new ideas for this year. Roman felt them trying to brainstorm new ideas and felt inspiration flare up inside him. The three began planning, not realizing they were unintentionally leaving out the gloomier side. He had never taken part before, and while they would love him to they didn’t expect him to take any interest.

It came as a surprise to them when he began giving small pointers here and there. Roman managed to find a way to decorate for the underappreciated holiday, and he was in the process of decorating the common room Virgil slinked in on his way to get coffee from the kitchen. He paused, a critical gaze on the prince’s handiwork. It was alright, but there were too many turkeys and the single orange streamer he had put up was haphazardly pinned up. “You should use some yellow and brown streamers, straighten the orange one, and put some of those turkeys in the kitchen.” The anxious side critiqued, his quick low voice startling Roman. The creative side turned to gape at him for a second before stepping back to look at his current progress. “Hmmm,” he began, and Virgil thought he was going to get mad for a moment when he continued, “You know what, System of a Downer, I think you might be right.” Virgil was surprised his opinion was validated and quickly muttered something about “Needing coffee” before disappearing in the kitchen. Logan and Patton were both debating the recipes they had settled on at the kitchen table. Virgil quietly listened as he got his much-needed caffeine fix. “But Logan! It’s a holiday! We should do everything and have lots of food to choose from!” The logical side quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Patton, that’s absurd. Some of these recipes clearly have ingredients none of us like. We shouldn’t use them if no one will like them.” They went back and forth like this, running in circles. Virgil peered over their shoulders and read some of the recipes.

Logan was right. A few recipes had ingredients such as prunes, spinach, cranberries or cooked broccoli. He scrunched up his nose reading those, but had to admit the rest of the recipe sounded delicious. “Why not just omit those ingredients and either substitute them with something else, or just scrap em entirely and make a modified version of the recipe?” He piped in before he could stop himself. The two stopped midsentence and gaped at him much like Roman did. ‘Ah, shit I ruined everything they probably think I’m annoying I shouldn’t have said—’ Patton beamed up at him. “That’s an excellent idea Virge!” Logan gave a small, stiff smile as well. “Excellent compromise, Virgil. I am quite certain we can work out alternative ingredients while still maintaining the integrity of these dishes.” The anxious side flushed before ducking out to his room, clinging to his coffee mug. His brain raced at the thoughts of them all liking what he suggested, but he couldn’t keep away the thoughts that they may just be trying to be nice while secretly hating what he said. He stayed in his room the next few days.

At last Thanksgiving arrived and the entire mindscape felt warm and cheery, the scents of maple pancakes and bacon filling each room in a tasty breakfast call. Everyone stumbled into the kitchen to see Patton in a ridiculous turkey-themed apron with “Kiss the cook” stitched on the front. He turned briefly and flashed his characteristic smile beam at the others. “Morning kiddos! Happy Thanksgiving!” They greeted him, lightly teasing him for his apron (“Seriously Patton, it even has tail feathers!” A laugh, “It’s so I can shake a tail feather!” Groans.) Logan began spouting off facts related to the holiday, some of which mortified the fatherly cook, before Roman took mercy on the heart and turned the conversation away from the history of Thanksgiving. “I declare, I think this year I am the most grateful for our epic (if not slightly disasterous) Halloween adventure! It was the best one yet!” The creative side boldly stated, causing some laughter at the memories. “Remember how cute Logan looked as a cat?!” Patton cried out, causing the normally reserved side to blush and scowl slightly. “Oh! Or how those werewolves nearly got us but Virgil saved us?” The laughter turned to a solemn agreement. Logan peered at the flustered boy who was currently stabbing his pancakes with a vengeance. “Yes. I am quite grateful we got out of that alive and in one piece. I am also thankful for Thomas’s renewed interest in academia.” Roman snorted, choking on some orange juice he had just taken a swig of. “Of COURSE you would be, AstronoNerd.” Laughter resumed, and they piled into the living room to watch the Peanuts Thanksgiving episode. When that finished up Logan pulled out a book to read out loud while Patton started on dinner, and Virgil couldn’t help but follow him inside the kitchen.

The anxious one watched as Patton started gathering ingredients, noticing a haphazard measuring system that was mildly terrifying. “P-pat? That’s not how you measure stuff.” The fatherly side peered up, his eyes warming up the way they did on Halloween. “Whatdya mean, kiddo?” Virgil fought down a slight blush and ignored the slight chill that went down his spine. “You’re not… Um, being very precise and that can affect the flavor.” Patton tilted his head, thinking about it, then smiled and offered a apron to the other. “I suppose you’re right! Why don’t you help me out, Virge?” The dark brooding man nodded and quickly got to work. Everything was measured precisely, times were kept exactly in the middle of the suggested times, and food was plated to the detail. The entire time they cracked jokes, commented about how the food looked and smelled, joked about the cream of broccoli and possible effects it could have on Princy… And Virgil felt at peace. He ignored the unnecessary, almost affectionate contact Patton would give randomly throughout the process. He hid his disappointment when the cooking was done and Patton called the others in, not wanting the time between them to be done yet. Roman and Logan came in, looking suspiciously disheveled. Patton appeared blissfully ignorant but Virgil caught the subtle shift in his eyes- an amused warmth that wasn’t quite like how he looked at the anxious side. Virgil smirked, not able to resist a snide remark. “So Princy, I see you were extra Charming while Pat and I slaved away in the kitchen.” The sheer brightness of the red on Roman’s cheeks was worth the disapproving glare from Logan and the gentle chastising he received from Patton; still, he saw the two quietly hold hands under the table later and couldn’t help but feel simultaneously happy for them and a bit jealous of them. He shoved those thoughts down as they all grabbed a plate and loaded it with food. Conversation was light and full of abnormal amount of praise for the food. “I must say, Patton, this food is absolutely out of this world! You’ve outdone yourself this year.” Roman complimented, digging into some stuffing with turkey shredded into it. Patton glanced at Virgil before grinning widely. “Actually, I can’t claim all the credit here. If it weren’t for good ol’ Virge here, I would have added too much of everything all together.” The others looked at the hiding side with a pleasantly surprised expression on their faces. “You can cook, Green Day?!” Virgil buried into his hoodie more but nodded. “I-I learned so that Th-thomas wouldn’t burn the house down or give someone food poisoning.” He muttered, red as a beet. Logan rescued the clearly distressed side. “Well, I for one am grateful you’ve ensured our food is safe for consumption. If you aren’t opposed, I think it would be beneficial for you two to cook together from here on.” Patton and Roman enthusiastically agreed before moving on to spare the poor man from the attention overload. Midbite Patton exclaimed, “You know what I’m grateful for?! I’m thankful for how close we all have gotten and how far we’ve all come!” They all toasted to that, clinking glasses of juice together.

Once dinner was done Logan and Roman volunteered to clean up the dishes since the other two cooked, allowing them to plunk down on the couch in a food coma. Patton had sat close to the anxious side, which Virgil blatantly tried to ignore as his cheeks dusted red. “You haven’t told us what you’re thankful for, Virge.” Patton said softly, forcing the darker side to look at him. He ducked his head a bit. “I’m thankful for you, Pat. You’ve helped pull me out of the darkness, more than the others could.” Patton put an arm around him gently and pulled him into a hug. “Awww shucks kiddo. That’s the nicest thing someone’s ever said to me.” Virgil relaxed into the hug, heart racing a little at the contact. He noticed the moral side was still wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron. Gathering up his courage, Virgil peered up at Patton. “Pat? Has anyone ever actually kissed you while you were wearing this?” Patton glanced down and chuckled, a surprisingly deep rumble emitting from his chest. “No, I don’t think so. The others aren’t very touchy-feely with me besides occasional hugs.” There was a brief silence as Virgil contemplated his next action carefully. Fuck it. He quickly kissed Patton, surprising the moral side. He was about to pull away when the heart gently stopped him and gave him a soft kiss back. Virgil’s heart fluttered, and they both cuddled together on the couch for the rest of the night.

@storytellerofuntoldlegends

@justanotherpurplebutterfly @ssides @thelogicalloganipus @pirate-patton @thatsthat24 @tinysidestrashcaptain @sidewritings @i-love-word-association-games @fandomsandanythingelse

#logince #moxiety #sanders sides #thanksgiving #fanfiction #fluff

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astridstorm · 4 years

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Doubt, A Passionate Exercise

Good morning everybody, once again. If you’re just joining us you can access the bulletin below this video but you’re also welcome to just listen. And once more: I hope everyone is healthy and well. Deacon Susie and I have all of you in our prayers, and please, please reach out to us if you have anyone in your life who is struggling or unwell right now.

Today is the 2nd Sunday of Easter, but it has several other names by which it’s informally known. One comes from the Eastern Church, where today is sometimes called Holy Humor Sunday. That’s based on an old text by one of the early Church Fathers (or theologians) who said that Easter was God’s way of playing a trick on the devil. And so on Holy Humor Sunday the custom is for the priest to tell jokes in place of the sermon.

You’ll be relieved to know I will not be doing that.

Another name by which today is informally known comes from the Roman Catholic tradition: Divine Mercy Sunday. This to me is very strange. But evidently a mystic named St. Faustina had a series of visions in the early 20th century showing her that if people showed up to church the Sunday after Easter they would receive enough mercy (and I’m not making this up) to skip right over limbo and go straight to paradise when they died. Which sounds like a shameless ploy to get people to come to church on this day.

Bringing us to the next name for the second Sunday of Easter: Low Sunday, for the low attendance we typically see today.

And then finally, there’s a name for today that gets used a lot in the Episcopal Church: Doubting Thomas Sunday. Our Gospel reading from John is always the same, every year, and it features Thomas, the disciple who needed to see Jesus for himself in order to believe.

Thomas was a disciple of some renown in the years after the resurrection. Deacon Susie has preached to us in the past about his legendary journey to India, where you can still find today “Thomas Christians” as they’re sometimes called. In our Bible study Wednesday we got to talking about a Gospel attributed to the followers of Thomas. It’s called the Gospel of Thomas. It was found in 1945, in a cave in Egypt where it had been preserved for almost two thousand years. It was translated and published and gave us an incredible amount of insight into early Christianity.

Our four Gospels (Matthew Mark Luke and John) tell stories, parables, teachings, and miracles, and they’re set in Galilee and Judea. The Gospel of Thomas is more like a book of aphorisms, told by Jesus, aphorisms like:

“If you do not come to know yourselves, then you exist in poverty, and you are poverty.”

“Love your brother like your life! Protect him like the apple of your eye!”

“If two make peace with one another in one and the same house, (then) they will say to the mountain: ‘Move away,’ and it will move away.”

And finally one of my favorites, very Zen-like: “Become passers by.”

There is a theory in Christian scholarship that the writer of John’s Gospel was at odds with the writer (or writers) of Thomas’ Gospel. These two had different and competing ideas of who Jesus was, and we know who won: John’s Gospel has been published in every Bible for 1,700 years. Thomas’ Gospel was buried in a cave.

This theory, that the two were in competition with each other, might explain why Thomas doesn’t come off so great in John’s Gospel. He sounds almost like a child in our reading for today: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."

And then the real dig at Thomas, John’s conclusion to the story: “blessed are those who [unlike Thomas!] have not seen, and yet believe.”

“Yesterday’s heresy is today’s dogma.” I don’t remember who said that, but if Thomas, through much of Christian history, was frowned upon, he is, today, one of the most relatable and even admired of the disciples. Doubt deepens our faith. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to let ourselves call comfortable assumptions into question.

For many years at my parish upstate, I would give myself a needed break after Easter and read the preface to the play Doubt by John Patrick Shanley. The play is great, but the preface is worth the whole book. It’s been years since I’ve looked back at this, but it still sends chills down my spine, it is so good.

Here’s some of what he wrote:

“Let me ask you. Have you ever held a position in an argument past the point of comfort? Have you ever defended a way of life you were on the verge of exhausting? Have you ever given service to a creed you no longer utterly believed? Have you ever told a girl you loved her and felt the faint nausea of eroding conviction? I have. That’s an interesting moment. For a playwright, it’s the beginning of an idea.[...]

“What is doubt? Each of us is like a planet. There’s a crust, which seems eternal. We are confident about who we are. If you ask, we can readily describe our current state. I know the answers to so many questions, as do you. What was your father like? Do you believe in God? Who’s your best friend? What do you want? Your answers are your current topography, seemingly permanent, but deceptively so. Because under that face of easy response, there is another you. And this wordless being moves just as the instant moves; it presses upward without explanation, fluid and wordless, until the resisting consciousness has no choice but to give way.

It is doubt (so often experienced initially as weakness) that changes things. When a man feels unsteady, when he falters, when hard-won knowledge evaporates before his eyes, he’s on the verge of growth… There is an uneasy time when belief has begun to slip, but hypocrisy has yet to take hold. It is the most dangerous, important, and ongoing experience of life.The beginning of Change is the moment of Doubt. Doubt requires more courage than conviction does... [Doubt] is a passionate exercise.”

All you Thomas Christians out there, and I suspect many of us are, today is your day. If Easter Day seems too full of certainty and conviction, the Second Sunday of Easter reminds us that behind every meaningful thing we believe, lies a welter of confusion and doubt. And that’s as it should be. Doubt is the “passionate exercise” that makes our faith stronger, more solid... more worth the effort.

Happy Doubting Thomas Sunday, and may God’s peace be with you all. Amen.

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dahniwitchoflight · 7 years

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Zodiac - “Circle of Animals”

Recently I’ve been thinking about zodiac signs because the meaning of Zodiac always bugged me because the signs it represents doesn’t match what it means

Zodiac means “Circle of Animals” representing the animal constellations along the circle of the equator in the sky at night

But in western Astrology, our modern constellations are not all Animals, we have some human figures (Gemini, Virgo) as well as inanimate tools (Aquarius, Libra) as well as some mythological or chimerical creations (Saggitarius, Capricorn)

and I was wondering, if we did assign actual real life animals to those signs, what would they possibly be? and why?

So I went back to the roots of it all, Sumerian and then Babylonian star catalogues to try and find an answer, after all, the modern signs were only based off of these older signs, they have become changed in the process, usually during Greek and Roman times and then later sort of “solidified” in modern times (And then also with a sprinkling of mythological tales common in those star regions to see the association between the animal and the meaning of the modern signs)

and what I discovered was actually very interesting, a lot of the times, the actual direct lines and boundaries between constellations were very often blurred, changed, moved, warped and argued about, so that actually over time, you can find that a lot of different symbols were associated with different constellations at some point in time

but overall, I discovered themes between constellations and their neighbors, the ones they would usually share boundaries, and therefore you could share their symbols with as well

One of the more famous ones of these being Scorpio and Libra, aka back in the day they were of one constellation, called the Scorpion, the region of the sky that we know as Libra today was simply known then as “the Scorpion’s Claws” with Scorpio being the Body and the Stinger

but also the region of the sky nearest Libra was associated with various reptiles, serpens Cauda, the snake’s head and hydra the dragon (i promise this isn’t a homestuck joke astrology post lol)

as well as in certain phases of history we instead see that whole region drawn differently, or connected the stars differently as “the eagle fighting the snake”

Now, there is a lot of snake symbolism and mythology out there that would actually suggest that Scorpio as a water sign associated with (Esp Male) sexuality and mystery and named for a “sting” would be better served by the Serpent symbol, and Libra, as an Air sign associated with ideals of justice and balance fits in pretty well with the Eagle! but also both signs being associated with Swords as well is a neat association (Scorpion was seen as an amoured beast, and called the Sword of Heaven, associated with War and Battle, Libra is where we get our Lady Justice figure from, Scales in one hand, Sword in the other, the Eagle is a very modern symbolism of War as well) makes the idea of them being figures “battling” eachother fit in with the imagery of the Snake and the Eagle quite well as well! Not to mention the imagery in the first place comes from the fact that the Eagle and Snake are natural enemies, eagle carries away snake, snake bites eagle

So, for me, I rather much associate Scorpius constellation with a Serpent, and Libra with an Eagle (Could be other Birds of Prey specifically, but Eagle is the one actually named)

as well as Corvus the Raven and Hydra the Snake were next to eachother and near Libra as well, Aquila the eagle is near as well

next, the constellation next to these guys, Virgo!

this one was actually very interesting the turn it took me, but I quite like the animal I ended up with

to begin with, the original constellation here is called “The Furrow” meaning a tilled portion of a farmer field, and was associated with various earthy things like growth, ears of corn specifically as symbols and farming in general

the direction modern symbolism took this in was to associate “The Furrow” with earthy mother goddesses of corn because women invented farming from our earlier hunter-gather days and well, Furrow also basically meaning hole in the ground where things grow out of, hint hint, feminine sexual symbolism we’ll say

but myths also associated the area with Dogs, and their domestication! like the story of Erigone and Maera. the story goes that Erigone’s father was taught the art of making wine out of grapes by Dionysus, her father gave the wine to some travellers, but they, thinking he had been poisoned by him not knowing was intoxication was, killed him and buried him under a tree. Erigone not knowing her father’s status couldn’t find him but, but her close dog companion Maera was able to catch the scent of wine from her father and led her to find his body, where, she ended up killing herself out of grief, hanging herself on the tree and her dog killed itself out of grief for her and jumped in a well to kill itself, Dionysus was enraged by the travellers behaviour ruining the family he intended to bless and raised them all into the stars, Erigone becoming Virgo, Maera Canis and her father as Bootes.

not suprisingly Canis Minor/Canis Major are Dog Constellations that are near Virgo, but perhaps more surprisingly is that Leo, Virgo’s neighbour, in times where Leo is drawn with some of Virgo stars as a different constellation is also called The Dog

so, Virgo is a Dog! But what do Dogs have to do with Women and Farming and Virgos modern associations with being neat and orderly and in control of everything?

Well, think of what dogs were being domesticated for in that time, mostly they were sheep dogs, and much closer to in those days to domesticated repurposed wolves than our modern cute little pet pomerianians (the word for dogs in most cultures pre domestication was everything between “child snatcher” and “corpse eater” and modern dog-based insults are remnants of that)

So you have the images of an Alpha Wolf, Leader of the Pack or even “Mama Wolf” figure, transformed and trained into a loyal partner for the farmer in a delicate dance of submission, turned from dangerous stranger inhabiting our midst to a coperative cohabitor, helping them shepherd their livestock by “acting” as wolves to scare herds into their proper places, like getting all your ducks in a row, training their natural behaviour for a humanly useful and utilitarian purpose, and over time through selective breeding becoming the sort of dogs we are familiar with today

So with that in Mind, I think for the Zodiac’s symbolism purposes Virgo as either Dog or Wolf would be accurate, but Canine in general is the point

a point for wolf though is another older close to virgo sumerian constellation being Wolf also called “Seeder of the Plough”, another association between Wolves domesticated by Farmers

Next we’ll talk about Aquarius, the Water-Bearer and his associations

also an air sign despite the name and the symbol, and in modern times associated with rebellion, eccentricity but also servitude and knowledge, the “water” he pours in most mythologies surrounding the constellation is life and creation, as a god in sumeria he was Ea or Enki, he is the Giver of life and all good things, aka his “water” poured into the earth’s “furrows” was what created all of life and creation (yes, the sexual imagery was intended) but aquarians as air signs are intellectual but flighty never really holding to one thing unless their stubborn and always going against the flow and contrary for the sake of contrariness always talking and in general just flying all over the place and getting into everything

the constellation itself was literally called “the Great One” for Ea the god, but the animal associations are a bit more tenuous here, the areas in the sky he is nearest to, and in some places depictions of Ea himself with wings and birdfeet, all have birdllike qualities, the Square of Pegasus is near, as well as once again, the boundaries between Pisces and Aquarius were different and nearer the Pisces half you have this old constellations called “The Tail of the Swallow” and “The Swallow” or also “The Dove” (through Pisces being associated with a human goddess of doves at one point as well) depicting a small bird with a forked/split feather tail (and were argued about if they were one constellation or two, much like Libra/Scorpio)

So, I can probably say that like Libra, Aquarius is also a Bird, but unlike Libra’s larger more warlike birds of prey, Aquarius’s bird is something much more akin to that gentle Dove or flightly Swallow

a Dove would certainly be the stronger symbol of the two, but Swallow was the one named so *shrug* like Wolf or Dog, the most important thing is Small Prey Bird, rather than Large Predator Bird

then there’s also the fact that the common image of a Dove Carrying the Signs of Life, from Noah’s ark like an olive branch or tree leaf, is a very common strong symbol that connects it directly to Aquarius’s Carrier of the Waters of Life. aka theyre both Life Carriers

Nest Again we have Capricorn, whose usually mythology is that of the Sea-Goat

but since while this one is an animal, its a mythological animal

but surprisingly back in ye old sumerian days, Capricorn was a constellation that represented the symbols of the god Ea, representing his loyal animal servants

and in those days, Capricorn (though obs it wasnt called capricorn) was equally depicted as either the Sea Goats or the Turtle! as those were both his servants

it was just random chance I guess that Sea-Goat ended up being the more popular depiction as time went on

But the Turtle/Tortoise fits surprisingly well with Capricorn’s established imagery as an Earth sign heavily associated with Water imagery, as well as Capricorn’s nature of being hardworking stubborn, slow and steadily climbing the ladder, and much more serious looking and longevital with forward long term plans as the Turtle than as the more playful and silly shortlived Goat

and even though a turtle might be more of a water creature youd think, Capricorn, Pisces and Aquarius are all water associated because there in an area of the sky called the Great Sea where a bunch of watery signs all live, and Turtle is still very heavily an Earthy water creature, just like the Swallow or Dove is associated with the myths of the Great Flood, think Noah’s ark where its always some form of small bird that is the first to discover the receding waters and bring hope to humanity

Nest then we have Saggitarius, the Archer, this one is a lot more simple compared to the other ones, its a Horse, obviously

but the reasoning goes much deeper than that, because it turns out, Horse may have been the intended Animal Symbol from the very start!

because back in Sumerian Days, while they had domesticated Dogs, Cattle, Sheep, Oxen etc they hadn’t yet domesticated things like Horse or Camels! so the images of the Centaur, the Man Upon the Horse, was misinterpreted from them seeing other cultures riding upon these apparently wild and undomesticated animals, and mistaking them instead for creatures with a horselike body and human top part

likely they saw foreign warriors or hunters hunting on horseback with the obvious tool, arrows, and misunderstood it as a strange mythological creature associated also with bows and arrows and thusly named it Centaur, and the mythical creature just happen to stick around and be a thing even after later peoples domesticated horses

anyway the orignal sumerian symbol was indeed a Centaur, but not called a centaur, it was called Pabilsag and was actually also associated with various forms of Ea and Enki, but depicting him as half horse was only one variation of him in the saggitarius section of the sky rather than in the Aquarius side, often here he was very chimerical, taking upon various animals parts of various things, dog heads, bird wings, snake tails, horse bodies, scorpion bodies etc and was really more like a hodgepodge of various zodiac animals with Ea on top

but since no other parts of the sky was associated was anything horselike (besides like, Pegasus but only later for greek myth)

to me it makes sense that Saggitarius’s Real Animal is simply the humble Horse

Finally we have the last non real animal sign left and that is Gemini

Gemini actually has the weakest connection to any real life animal out of all the signs, because Gemini has been pretty solidly The Great Twins since the original sumerian constellations, once they were absorbed into Orion to become “The Giant” but thats pretty much it

however!

Gemini as the Twins were also associated as the two faces/aspects/sides of Nergal, Babylonian god of the underworld, and the Panther is the sacred beast of Nergal, the Babylonian lord of the dead also known as “The (storm)demon with the wide open mouth “ often depicted as a great black panther or a panther griffin beast, think sort of their version of a cerberus creature!

so, we got another big cat in the Zodiac, but, the imagery we can take from a cool dark underworld Panther is very different then the one we get from the great roaring sunny Lion

if we start with Gemini as a Panther, we can use Gemini’s astrological meaning to further shape it

Gemini’s are fast talking, witty, charming, silver tongued, mysterious, surprisingly often hated by people because theyre misunderstood, just have a different overall way of interacting and airy personality and thoughts, but can be overactive and crazy and lovable and cute all at once

and when combine all that with “Black Panther” you get a symbolism image much more in line with how modern people think of House Cats in general, or even Black Cats if you wanna get really specific, it lends itself really well to Gemini;s meaning, and it has its base in something associated with Gemini from the beginning

so the Cat it is!

and with that we have our revised true western “Circle of Animals”

Aries - Ram

Taurus - Bull

Gemini - Cat (or Small Cat)

Cancer - Crab

Leo - Lion (or Big Cat)

Virgo - Wolf (or Dog/Canine)

Libra - Eagle (or Large Predator Bird)

Scorpio - Serpent (or you can keep Scorpion, but I’ve fallen in love with Serpent Scorpio)

Saggitarius - Horse

Capricorn - Turtle/Tortoise

Aquarius - Swallow/Dove (or Small Prey Bird)

Pisces - Fish

#astrology #zodiac #western zodiac

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