#ic: atticus

[formshaper]

♦ gimme atticus for daisy

Atticus doesn't open his eyes, doesn't lift the brim of his hat from where it's pulled down to cover the top half of his face. His pack is shoved against the base of a tree, head resting on it, body mostly-hidden in the long grass while Caliban grazes nearby and Atticus basks in the sun. This is how reptiles must feel, he thinks. He imagines himself as a snake, curled up in the hand of God and warm 'til nightfall.

Then he stops. Someone's asking him a question, drawing him into the silly camp game they've all been playing for lack of anything better to do (excepting chores, obviously, but Grimshaw hasn't started breathing down their necks just yet). Atticus shifts his shoulders a little to get 'em comfy. He tips his hat up just enough to squint through the sun at whoever asked him.

"Flight," he says finally, and tugs his hat down again. Flight of a songbird's wings when it shot out from under Wren's hooves and startled them both; Daisy taking flight in the small hours of the morning once, long ago, packing up as quick and quiet as they knew how and leaving Atticus without a word, both of them knowing he wasn't really sleeping anymore but wasn't going to stop her; the two of them in flight side by side on a pair of beautiful horses too fast and strong for either of them to ever afford the decent way, half-heartedly shooting behind themselves now and then when one of the Braithwaite men managed to catch up. Flight when Dutch was on one of his rampages, the real Art Thou More Than A Monkey kind where he preaches like a pastor and snarls and shoves at anyone that dares say a word against him, and Atticus had left camp that night and tracked Daisy down days later, stuck with her for two weeks before leaving them again.

He tries not to think about that one too much. Nobody leaves this gang anymore without Dutch's say-so, but Atticus has always been a drifter, and he hopes--Christ, he hopes--that's enough to keep Dutch's suspicion off of him a while longer. He's seen what it's doing to John.

Still. Flight, Atticus says, and nobody questions it. He doubts anyone understands his answer, and he doesn't care to explain.

[fatedroses]

A Judge and his Bodyguard - A Reaper, and his Voidsent.

[writingforfishes]

I had the most random 4am thought, probably brought on during writing, but curious, if Otto were to drink iced coffee, would he still get the hiccups? Or is it like based on the temperature?

Okay, but that is so valid?!

It's definitely temperature based, I think. I believe his vagus nerve might be sensitive to being triggered via hot liquids like coffee and soup. I suspect (though he's a completely fictional character and I'm not a doctor and it shouldn't have THIS much thought put into it) that his years of drinking have led to some acid sensitivity.

I, myself, have a very mild version of GERD that has only really shown to flare significantly once due to extreme stress. (Never led to hiccups.)

I imagine someone who has sort of abused their digestive system and had pancreatitis and is also prone to having cases of hiccups regardless would have some sort of higher sensitivity to PH changes or acid reflux.

This is not to say that his hiccups are unpleasant; I feel the need to qualify that. This is just to say that, as a result, acidic things at a high temperature might be a more consistent trigger. So, acid+temperature?

HOWEVER.

If he's having repeat hiccup day, as in the roleplay fic in the bookstore, anything iced would probably worsen a case (i.e. the iced water).

It's funny, actually. I've written the queerest characters but not one of them has yet to have an iced coffee. Or a cold brew.

What am I even DOING with my life?

[canon-fcdder]

Being seen without his mouth covered at the very least was not a sight very many were treated to, Atticus not one to enjoy when attention was drawn to him. His fellow team star leaders were of the few exceptions to this typically tried and true fact, but even still none of them had ever noticed that Atticus had a tongue piercing, or at least they'd never commented on it. He never really thought much of it, often forgetting it himself. It wasn't a big deal to him, and he simply assumed that the rest of those who might have seen it thought the same if they had noticed it. Seated at Ortega's desk, that piercing was on full display where Atticus stuck his tongue out in concentration as he mended his fellow leader's clothes that had been torn in a battle. - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @world-of-stones-and-colors 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 When their garment was ripped, Ortega had been pissed displeased, to say the least. Naturally, the first thing they did was take the torn jacket to Atticus… Okay, the first thing they did was complain about it. But THEN once the frustration was out of their system— … they proceeded to complain even more to Atti while showing him the damage. But now they’ve exhausted themself and the air has faded into a companionable silence. For two people with a habit of breaking the quiet— people usually assuming the eccentric males must really enjoy the sound of their own voices —they’re surprisingly-capable of sinking into it as well.

Elbow propped on a desk and cheek resting upon their fist, eyes are fixated upon Atticus as he works. Gazing upon the surprisingly-soothing sight, Ortega internally marvels at how deftly the task is done. Whenever Atti mends clothes, the stitches are near-invisible. Garments appearing as if they had never been damaged at all. Ortega feels confident in saying Atti is one of— if not THE —most talented person they’ve witnessed when it comes to the art of clothing… When it comes to many things, now that they spare a moment to mull it over.

Might as well, since they aren’t doing anything else right now.

Lost in thought about Atticus’s many impressive attributes, they’re hit with an odd mix of admiration and… inadequacy. Normally when feeling inferior to others, there’s more irritation than infatuation endearment. Yet another mark in Atticus’s favor, they suppose. Managing to stay on the Fae’s good side even when running circles around them. Before Ortega can flow any further down this river of thought, they’re caught off-guard by something they’ve NEVER noticed about Atti before. Eyes widen and head lifts, lips slightly parting with a question they nearly spout without thinking. Thankfully, they stop themselves before they can embarrassingly ask how long Atti had a tongue piercing and blatantly out themself for not knowing.

Obvious as it may be if Atti happened to notice their reaction. Instead, Ortega hastily composes themself with a trained intake of breath and forced ❛ relaxation ❜ of their posture. Leisurely pointing at Atti's mouth with a lazy finger, head cocks to the side like their beloved Daschbun as they inquire, ❝ Hey— Why do you have that? ❞ Sticking out their own tongue, gloved finger lightly taps against it to ensure Atti understands what they're asking about, before they continue. ❝ You hardly ever show your mouth, so it's not like anyone has a chance to see it. ❞

Why go through the trouble of adding an adornment when one isn't going to show it off? Not only that, but actively HIDE it... Heck, Ortega is pretty sure Atticus never even saw fit to mention it before. As if it doesn't make any difference whether he has a tongue piercing or not. So- ... Why bother? What possessed him to even want to get it in the first place if it would be shunned so completely. ❝ So- what's the point? ❞ Ortega asks, resting their crossed arms on the desk so they can lean a bit closer. 「 ☆ 」

[denouemente]

He'd been retired for a few months now, something he was still trying to get used to. The whole staying in one place thing was a big difficult, but Atticus liked that he got to stay with Mason the whole time. He especially liked when @greenelight had the whole day off, and they got to have breakfast together. He stood at the stove, making hashbrowns while his boyfriend read at the table behind him. “ I was thinking, maybe we could go to that one museum today. The one down the street from the book shop. ”

[warpcursed]

Atticus || @askthecaptiangeneral liked for a Perils of the Warp starter!

59-67 Dark Summoning: Khorne's wrath swells at the arrogance of the psyker, and he sends a Bloodletter to deal with the fool. It detests the psyker and focuses all of its attacks on the fool and unwittingly summoned it. It will not attack anyone else, even if others attack it

The overload of psychic energy knocks him back, stumbling as a tear in the space in front of him rips open. He glimpses the terrifying realm of the Blood God's Domain. And just as suddenly as it rips open, a figure fills the frame. It climbs it's way through the tear, its molten yellow gaze fixated on him, it's tongue lolling from its mouth.

Ozura doesn't even think twice and takes off in a full sprint. It quickly follows after him, chasing him through the cathedral like structures of the city. He's in pure panic knowing he's not going to out run a demon of Khorne, yet he does the last thing he would ever consciously do.

He prays.

[shadowbrn]

❝ that is ... literally illegal. you're describing something illegal. ❞

@anxietytold ( meredith ) 💖 for link.

[radicheart-a]

🎲 (from @malhommesage heeheeeeee)

Send 🎲 to generate a kiss!

4. A kiss to the top of the head

As soon as his alternate is in range and climbs into their shared bed, Cal is moving closer so he can slip both arms around him and press a kiss between his ears, in front of his antlers. "Hello, love~"

[malhommesage]

Currently making goo-goo eyes at his boyfriend.

[autcnomy]

"Lex, can you help me with this? I want to look good for the ceremony."

Kent is grinning, two blue eyes bright. He has a red tie in his hands. Clark needs to look his best for the Pulitzer

"....you've got to be kidding me," softly escapes almost unmoving lips.

Pewter eyes are as unyielding as ever, but Lex has to pause an unusually long moment when it's Clark standing in his office, implicitly inviting him to be inextricable from the journalist's biggest professional success to date: because Lex is humbled by the gesture.

Free press rarely grazes elbows with the two-headed moster of the corporate and the political, but here they are, the fresh-faced farm boy and the misfit trust fund brat, once more.

Lex exhales a breathless laugh. He ducks and shakes his head, both floored and unsurprised, in the span of seconds, at the corny familiarity. He saunters, he hopes, the remaining two steps between them. He fixes the tie that Clark Kent, ace reporter and thorough adult, needs no help with. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning in his eyes that he doesn't trust for another few moments.

Then,

"Congratulations, Clark." Not 'kiddo,' not 'buddy.' To Lex, Cark was always simply a peer. "More often than you think, I miss those evening strolls up to your barn loft...past your mom, doing propoerty taxes, or something else both ...smart and kind...in the kitchen, past your salt-of-the-earth dad, still wanting his blessing...up all those steps, past that damned, telescope, to try and chisel away at the enigma that was my friend."

The word almost cracks his voice. But it's too smooth, too measured, and time has only calcified those layers of social defense.

The final loop pulled, Lex gives Clark's chest a bracing pat, and squeezes his shoulder. He circles back to his desk, with its imposing view of the city skyline, and raises a tumbler of golden liquid.

"You deserve this. Keep making the lives of all my colleagues pure and utter hell." An impish pause and slow smile. "Got your speech ready?"

[formshaper]

"Hold on, Yeehaw." Varric laughs, even though there's not much reason for laughing. Atticus's horse, which Varric eyes suspiciously (he doesn't care for horses, or ponies, either), is offered a carrot from the dwarf's hand. "You're not even gonna have dinner with me one last time before you speed off into the sunset like some romance novel hero? I'm hurt."

"No you ain't," Atticus smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. He keeps a hand on the horse's russet neck as she eats from Varric's hand; she's a beautiful thing, a healthy, strong-willed mare he'd picked up fairly recent. He hasn't had the heart to name her in case she goes the way of Bad Jim. She snuffles at Varric's hand once she's eaten, lipping harmlessly at it, while Atticus picks out a little twig from her mane.

"Besides, if I let you sweet-talk me into just one more dinner, I'll never leave." No room for argument: he claps a hand on Varric's shoulder, then he's mounting up, long legs swinging astride the horse with ease. "Don't miss me too much. I'll see you around."

Assuming he doesn't get himself killed before then.

[demon-prosecuted]

❝ As unfortunate of a statement as it is - I doubt the Steel Samurai will save you now. Have fun with.. that. ❞

[wovetalesbye]

❝   if   you're   here   to   look   for   some   ghosts   ,   i'm   afraid   you're   out   of   luck.   ❞   barbara   smiles   at   the   tall   gentleman   who's   caused   quite   a   stir   in   the   town   of   winter   river , a little surprised that she's managed to cross paths with him in her hardware store.   there's   always   been   an   aura   of   darkness   that   has   hovered   over   the   town for as long as she can remember , but   it   hasn't   been   enough   to   convince   many   residents   of   the   presence   of   actual ghosts or whatever else might be out there.   barbara   wants   to   believe   in   the   possibility   ,   but   she   hasn't   really   had   a   chance   to   really   consider   it. her   husband   has long   since   departed   from   this   world , leaving   her   on   her   own   to   tend   to   the   hardware   store   they   opened   together.   if   ghosts   were   a   thing   ,   wouldn't   he   have   tried   to   reach   her   ?   she   pushes   the   thought   out   of   her   mind   ,   focusing   now   on   the   stranger   before   her   ,   confident   that   he's   not   here   looking   to   repair   something   in   his   home.

❝   i   doubt   many   ghosts   would   want   to   haunt   a   hardware   store.   not   unless   they   were   involved   in   some   freak   DIY   project.   ❞   she   chuckles   ,   leaning   against   the   counter   as   she   takes   in   the   stranger now that he's approached closer.   despite   not   being   from   here   ,   atticus   levy   looked   like   he   could   pass   for   a   winter   river   resident.   she's   not   sure   why   she   gets   that   feeling from him   ,   but   it's   strangely   welcoming   &   it   endears   her   to   him.   ❝   atticus   levy   ,   right   ?   i   know   your   name   ,   only   because   bill   the   barber   next   door   won't   stop   talking   about   you.   ❞   she   grins.   ❝   can't   say   i've   read   any   of   your   work , though.   here   in   this   hardware   store   ,   you're   just   a   regular   outsider   to   me   ,   so   sorry   if   i   don't   fangirl   over   you.   ❞

˗ˏˋ     ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳˢ      it’s   showtime   ﹕   barbara   maitland   &   featuring   @eueclid   as   atticus   levy.

[lionfanged]

♡ 👀

SEND A HEART, GET A RATING // accepting!

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION -- well we already know for a fact he's tapping that, and he fully intends to continue this trend. ●○○○○ | AFFECTION -- he is endeared to kurama the same way ur endeared to a stray dog. u pity it a little but u don't have the time to take that on. ●●○○○ | INTEREST -- varies by the day. sometimes he wonders if the shameless detective secretly DOES have dirt on him he's afraid of the world seeing. ○○○○○ | LOYALTY -- he will throw kurama to the wolves the moment he's gotta. 💖 ●○○○○ | TRUST -- he gets an OUNCE of trust... bcuz he's paying him. once that contract is up, so is the trust.

" you seriously need to learn when to keep your mouth shut, however. don't bite the hand that feeds you. "

[warpcursed]

“What is it Astartes?” The guilded guard says as he looks to the librarian who approached. The custodian was alone, as if he was waiting.

@askthecaptaingeneral

(Answer at your leisure)

@askthecaptaingeneral

There was a mild look of confusion that crossed his face. No one had ever called him that before. Sure, he held the title of librarian but no one ever addressed him as such. He did not have any of the augmentation or enhancement of a normal astartes since he was too old and his body was too fragile to handle it. Among the Stars Repentant they simply called him Brother Ozura or The Diviner.

"I was told you were here so I became curious," Ozura said. That was only partially true. He'd also caught a glimpse of the custodian in a vision. The librarian didn't sound as unsure or hesitant as he had when he had spoken with Atticus back on Atoma. A lot of things had changed in the months since he'd left.

The staff in his hand thumped softly against the deck as he moved closer, the blue auramite of his fingers wrapped around it.

"So what brings you to the Ursa Major, Captain General?" He doubted it was about Ozura faking his own death to leave the inquisition and join a legion of newly unbanished space marines. "If you have come to see Lord Aurelius then you're out of luck. He is currently on Macragge for business with Lord Guilliman."

Ozura wouldn't exactly have called it "business" as much as it was checking in on his younger brother.