#yes my laptop is in repair and no i did not enjoy drawing this on my phone

[wisherbysharlight]

I Wanna Get It, I Didn't Get It, Til Now

Word Count: 4084

Pairing: Analogical

The second in a series of different pairings being capital O Oblivious because that’s a trope I will never ever get tired of.

Virgil sits at the same library table every single day, alone, until one day, Logan needs a seat.

They are both kind of idiots.

Warnings: none that I can think of

AO3 Link

Virgil loved his library table. He would get there after his work study shift in the registrar’s office, around 7pm on weekdays and 1pm on weekends, and the section on the second floor would be mostly clear. Second floor was quiet but not silent, so it didn’t feel oppressive, and he didn’t feel insecure about whether his headphones were too loud or not. His favorite table was just to the left of the water fountain, had an outlet built into it, and the chairs were adjustable enough that he could lean back and press his knees against the side of the table while he typed. He loved his table so much that he’d come even if he didn’t have homework to do, just to scroll through endless Tumblr pages or work on his personal writing. He’d had his table for 3 months with no problem at all, which was why he was baffled when someone came up to him while he was reading and stood expectantly next to the table, overly full backpack hanging off his shoulder.

 He recognized the other man immediately, he was another library regular who usually sat two tables away, always messing with his hair and adjusting his tie pushing his glasses up his nose and drawing Virgil’s eye with movement. He took his headphones down and put them around his neck, though he could still faintly hear his music, “Hi? Can I help you?”

 “The outlet is broken on my table, and I was wondering if I could join you and utilize the other half of yours?” mystery-man asked, gesturing to where Virgil was only using two of the four outlets.

 “Oh sure, of course, go ahead. Sorry about your table,” Virgil offered, brandishing his hand vaguely at the chair across from him.

 “You have nothing to apologize for, of course. I appreciate your amenity. I submitted a work order request, hopefully it will be repaired soon,” the other man took the seat and set his things down before extending a hand across the table, “Logan Perry. I believe I’ve seen you here frequently so this is at least a good opportunity to get acquainted.”

 Virgil blinked a bit, trying to process, then hurriedly pulled his hand out of the makeshift paw he’d made out of his sweatshirt sleeve and shook Logan’s hand so he wouldn’t think that Virgil didn’t want to, “Um. Yeah. I’ve seen you around too, I think. Virgil Storme. Nice to meet you.”

 Logan tipped his head to the side curiously when Virgil leaned over, as though he was listening hard, then adjusted his glasses, “Hmm. Interesting melody. I appreciate the solid bass rhythm. Who is the artist, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 “The... Artist? Oh, you mean the band I’m listening to?” he picked his headphones up but only put one ear on, “It’s Arctic Monkeys. They’re like, known, for solid bass lines, which is probably what you could hear.”

 Logan hummed like he was intrigued, then began pulling books out of his bag and… wow. That was a lot of books, each one thicker than the last. Chemistry I, Physics II, Theory of Numbers, Discrete Mathematics… Virgil had a headache just looking at the titles, “Uh… Wow. That’s some collection you’ve got there. What year are you?”

 “I am a first semester sophomore. I struggled choosing a major, so I opted to dual major in Math and Physics and minor in Philosophy and Conservation Studies. Also a minor in Astronomy, but that came with no extra courseload, just strategic choices in electives. I enjoy learning quite a bit, so I opt to stay during break semesters, and I am on track to graduate on schedule with no more than 18 credits a semester,” Logan rattled off, like he’d gone through the spiel before and was expecting certain questions and wanted to head them off, “And yes, before you ask, I do take breaks, I am not a hermit with no friends, and as far as I know I am not a robot.”

 Virgil blinked dazedly again, trying to absorb the bucketful of information being thrown at him, “Cool. Sounds like you’ve got it under control then. I’m dual-major too, but creative writing and interactive media design have a bunch of overlap.”

 Logan nodded, pulling out what must have been the notebook he was looking for with a triumphant noise, “You want to be a game designer then? Very lucrative career to choose, especially with the current market for such employs.”

“I wanna write books, actually, but like you said, markets good for game writers and I wanna have a fall back in case everything sucks, ya know?” Virgil admitted. He’d been told his stories were good, sure, but there was always a chance it would all go to shit, and the only way to account for that was to put 110% in and have a backup plan for his backup plan’s backup plan.

 Logan gave him an indecipherable look that passed in a moment before he went back to his neutral expression, “Understandable, I suppose. If you would ever like a second opinion on a piece, please allow me to offer my aid. I may not be as fluent in creative ventures, but I am a fan of such works, and my roommate often uses me as a sounding board for his own ideas.”

 Virgil tried not to let his surprise show, he didn’t want to offend his new… desk-mate? Acquaintance? Study partner? Whatever Logan was to him now. “Sure, uh, that’d be great. I don’t know if I can offer the same, since, ya know, science is really not my strong suit, but I can try?”

 Logan pushed his hand through his hair and pulled a hairtie off his wrist to pull it up into a slightly messy bun that kept his hair out of his eyes. Virgil noticed it actually looked more red than brown as the light hit it, and was so distracted he almost didn’t notice Logan offer a genuine smile, green eyes sparkling and catching Virgil off guard yet again with just how attractive he actually was, and flipped his laptop open, “That would be much appreciated Virgil. Thank you.”

 They worked together in silence for the next hour and a half, then both headed back to their dorms. Virgil felt even more productive with just Logan’s presence and aura of concentration, and he found himself hoping the work order took a while to be completed.

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The next day, Virgil arrived at his table to find Logan already there, two coffee cups in front of him, studying a tome of a textbook raptly. Still, he looked up when Virgil took his seat across from him and pushed one of the coffee cups his way, “I made myself a tea downstairs and figured I’d make a second in case you wanted one. It’s a vanilla flavored English black tea, not the garbage they serve in the dining halls.”

 Virgil grabbed the cup greedily, “Oh shit this is perfect, I had an 8am and desperately needed caffeine.” He took an experimental sip and groaned a bit as it hit his tongue, closing his eyes as the warmth passed through him like a calming fire, “Thank you, Logan, it’s delicious.” He thought he heard a choking sound, but when he looked up, Logan was looking back down at his notebook. He thought he saw a slight flush to his face, “Hey, you alright?”

 “Oh yes, I’m fine. I just needed to clear my throat,” Logan insisted, though he did not look up from his book and his cheeks got even brighter. Virgil supposed he was probably a little embarrassed since he was normally so poised and put together.

 “Ok, if you’re sure!” He opened his laptop and checked his to-do list, and was thrilled to realize he didn’t have anything urgent in terms of schoolwork. He opened his novel document instead, and immediately remembered why he’d left off where he did as the frustration resurfaced. Well, he thought, now was as good a time as ever to see if Logan meant it when he said he was willing to help. “Hey, Lo, could you help me find a word for what I’m trying to say here?”

 Logan finally looked up from his book, sticking a bookmark in and closing it before adjusting his glasses and giving Virgil his full attention, “Absolutely, I could do with a break from formulae. Go ahead.”

 Virgil felt a little off balance with the full weight of Logan’s stare, and his brain suddenly chose this moment to remind him that he was very, very gay. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his laptop so he wouldn’t be distracted, “Oh. Um. Thanks. So this guy is looking at his friend who he hadn’t really noticed in a romantic sense before, but i need a word for ‘‘momentary gay panic at how pretty he is’ without saying it like that. Like more poetic? Or just less casual.”

 Logan cleared his throat, face flushing again, and Virgil had a moment of alarm when he realized he didn’t even know if Logan was ok with LGBT stuff, and oh god, what if he was a homophobe and yelled at him or he just made him super uncomfortable or - “While romantic language is typically much more my roommate’s forte, I can certainly, er, relate, to the situation you are describing, and attempt to describe it as Roman would.”

 Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, relaxing once he realized the source of Logan’s hesitation was not derived from intolerance but instead from hitting a little too close to home. Then, in a moment of emotional whiplash, his breath caught again as he realized it hit a little too close to home and that meant Logan was likely attracted to men and that was nerve-wracking in an entirely different way. He forced himself to relax, knowing that Logan was likely waiting for an answer, and stammered out, “Y-Yeah, that would be good. Anything would help.”

 “I believe a good way to phrase it would be ‘Suddenly caught unaware by the realization that he may be attracted to this man’. You could also describe side effects of the feeling itself, such as flushed skin or quickened heartbeat or what I believe my friend Patton calls butterflies?, rather than spelling it out explicitly.”

 Virgil couldn’t hold back a grin as the inspiration hit him, “Oh! Duh! Show don’t tell would work perfect here, thank you Logan you rock!”

 He didn’t miss the way Logan looked momentarily shell-shocked and made a mental note to be sure to give him more compliments in the future, if he was that maladjusted to them.

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

 Virgil hissed as his pencil broke again, clicking the end to get more lead a bit more aggressively than he probably needed to. Calculus was the devil, he’d decided. He was in hell and series and sequences were his instrument of torture.

 Logan cleared his throat and Virgil’s head shot up in surprise. When had Logan gotten there? Oh good, tea, that was always welcome. He grabbed the cup Logan extended towards him and started chugging before Logan could even give him the usual background on what kind it was like he had every day for the past month. The other table was definitely fixed by now, but the two of them had gotten so used to the company that they’d just kept sitting together. “Virgil, are you… alright?” Logan asked tentatively, and Virgil looked up again, guilty and a bit crazy eyed.

 “Fuck that was so rude. Yes. Yes, I’m fine, sorry, thanks for the tea Lo, I’m just stressed about this godforsaken calc II exam I have Monday. I don’t understand any of this stuff,” he gestured to the packets and notebook and textbook spread out on the table.

 “That’s quite alright, I’m familiar with the stress of midterms. Though I may be able to help alleviate some of yours? I am a junior TA for Calc II, I could potentially provide assistance,” Logan offered.

 Virgil let out a breath of relief, twisting one of his rings in an attempt to quell some of his nervous energy, “Oh that would be incredible. My Grad TA’s office hours are during when I have work, and he’s kinda a dick anyway.”

 Logan exhaled heavily like he was trying not to laugh. “Chad, I assume?” he asked and Virgil nodded, “Well I can definitely be more helpful than that glorified orangutan.” It was Virgil’s turn to be startled into laughing, “Here, let me see what you’re working on....”

 An hour and a half later, Logan was watching him work carefully and when he tentatively circled his final answer he gave him an encouraging nod and a smile, “You’ve got it now. See, it’s all about the rules and the patterns.”

 “Oh Logan I could kiss you,” Virgil enthused, still looking in amazement at his own work, “You just saved my entire life, thank you.”

 Logan cleared his throat and turned away, though when Virgil looked up he could see that the tips of his ears were red. Ugh, you’d think after a month he’d be used to being complimented by now. “Well, if that was all, I, er, I need to work on some of my own assignments.”

 “Yeah, yeah, of course, I can do more practice myself,” Virgil told him, waving him away with a smile, “You’ve absolutely helped enough,  I’ll get you that jam you like so much or something. I owe you so much.” 

 Logan mumbled something in return but when Virgil asked him to repeat it he stammered, “I’ll be right back!” and ran off to the bathroom. Virgil shrugged and went back to puzzling through the rest of his study guide.

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“-so, theoretically, there could in fact be another planet in this solar system, but it would need to be far enough away or small enough to not affect the gravitational pull of Pluto’s moons in a significant way or just in a way which is balanced by another gravitational pull which forced our equations to not identify any irregularity.”

 “Well shit,” Virgil breathed, “So, theoretically, how possible are aliens?”

 “Damn close to guaranteed,” Logan told him with a grin, “Intelligent life, that’s another story, but I still believe they are highly likely-”

 Virgil set his head in his hands, pushing his work to the side so he could simply listen.

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“I’m going to head down to the cafeteria to make another cup of tea, would you like to join me?”

 “Sure thing, Lo, I desperately need to not look at this anymore.” Virgil felt a teeny bit of pride when Logan choked on nothing in what Virgil assumed was shock as he stood up to stretch and revealed his outfit, his heels giving him the extra three inches he needed to be what Remy called scary tall, which was actually enough to effectively tower over Logan, and the confidence to leave his sweatshirt unzipped over a mesh crop top and ripped jeans that he knew looked good, as he had been assured so around 100 times before he agreed to go to the library in it in the first place, “Sorry, forgot you got here after me, my friend’s playing a show tonight after this and I told him I’d hang with his boyfriend and make sure no one gets obnoxious. So I got a little dressed up, cuz I didn’t wanna have to go back to my apartment in between. Besides, when I’m this tall no one fucks with me in general, not just in the mosh pit.”

 “That is… certainly an outfit,” Logan wheezed, then took a sip of his water in an attempt to wash it down.

 “You ok L? You’re all red, I don’t need you dying on me,” Virgil asked, concerned his friend was actually drowning on his own water bottle.

 Logan waved him off, gulping water down like he’d been stuck in the desert for days. “Yes, yes, just a little, erm, parched. Got a bit too focused and forgot to drink and you startled me.”

 “Whatever you say, Professor,” Virgil teased, stretching his arms up to try to roll his shoulders, “Just don’t get too enthusiastic there. Last thing we need is you to choke to death cuz you were thirsty.”

 Logan seemed to make a concentrated effort not to choke again, adjusting his tie and turning on his heel quickly to head down to the cafe, and Virgil considered it a win.

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There was someone else at their table. The new man was broad shouldered, with dirty blonde hair that had just a bit of a beachy wave to it, skin tanned perfectly like he’d never spent a day out of the sun. How was that even possible? They went to school in Massachusetts and it was January. He was gesturing wildly while he spoke and Logan was doing that half-laugh he did when he thought something was funny but didn’t want to admit it and Virgil felt… something… pang deep in his stomach. Of course, Logan was ridiculously hot, Virgil had no chance at all, even if he’d been starting to feel like there was something between them. He definitely didn’t have a chance if Logan wanted someone that looked like that. He couldn’t help but be a little vindictive though as he plastered a smile onto his face and headed over, setting his bag down with a resounding thump, “Wow, this quiet corner just keeps getting more crowded, huh?”

 Logan startled a bit, and Virgil could have been imagining it but he thought he saw a flash of hurt at Virgil’s tone, “I-I suppose. This is Roman, he needed some assistance with his screenplay and I suggested he come here, but we can go back to our apartment if it will be too much of a nuisance for you.”

 Virgil would have eaten his own shoe to take back his original words, but he couldn’t, so he covered up as best he could, “R-Roman. Your roommate. Of course. Hi, I’m Virgil, you can definitely stay. Sorry, just had a long day at work, I’m a little - er- cranky, or whatever.”

 Roman gave him a smirk that was just a tad too knowing for Virgil’s taste, “Don’t worry, Mr. Prince of Darkness. I’ll be out of your hair soon and you two can get back to doing whatever the hell it is you do every day. Just need the human thesaurus here to help me out a bit, and it’s not like he’s ever home anymore with how often he hangs around here for your little study-”

 “Roman,” Logan hissed quickly, and Virgil saw Roman shoot him an unimpressed look.

 “Study sessions.” Roman finished, “Now come on Pocket Protector, what’s another word for pining. I’ve already used it twice, and longing and yearning are both not quite a right fit.” Virgil had a momentary thought that Roman should be very glad looks couldn’t kill, with how Logan was glaring him down. “Nothing? How about some flowery language for black hair or blue eyes, hmm? Think you can help me there?”

“Roman Michaels.” Logan bit out, and Roman gave him a bright, shit-eating grin.

 “No? How about helping me with a sweatshirt sharing scene, how about that? I mean, it’s a cliche, sure, but I’m sure we can put a spin on it, like make it clearly well used and important...”

 “I will dye your hair fluorescent orange in your sleep Roman, I swear,” Logan seethed, and Virgil was stock still, eyes wide as they darted between the two roommates.

 ”Maybe some music recommendations then? Those are slightly less cliche…”

 “Destroy your conditioner and hide your blow dryer, add cheap hair gel to all your shampoo,” Logan continued, attempting to speak over him.

 “I know you’ll suggest a height difference, I believe I can fit that in,” Roman’s voice was rising too, and the new occupants of Logan’s old table were firing dirty looks at them.

 “Guys?” Virgil asked quietly and both of the roommates stopped immediately, turning to him with fire in their eyes, “Um. I guess this is like... a touchy subject? But people are staring cuz you guys are sorta… loud.”

 Roman and Logan both flushed brightly, turning to give awkward waves to the other table while Virgil tried to comprehend what had just happened, “So like… Logan you’re pretty passionate about Roman’s screenplay, huh?”

 Roman groaned dramatically and shoved his laptop in his bag, standing abruptly. “I can’t believe there’s two people as oblivious as you,” he muttered like a curse, then almost literally flounced off with a clearly meaningful look shot at Logan that Virgil couldn’t quite figure out but made Logan flush brighter.

 It was silent for a couple minutes, just the taptaptap of Virgil’s pen against his notebook sounding out through the space between them, before Virgil couldn’t take it and spoke up, “You wanna talk about why that was a thing for you or nah?”

 “Y-You don’t know? Seriously?” Logan looked incredulous, then laughed a little to himself, “Virgil. He was teasing me.”

 “Teasing you? About what?” Virgil asked, trying to think through what it could possibly be, “You that against, like, cheesy romcom cliches?”

 Logan shook his head, still looking like Virgil had amazed him in some way, “Virgil. Please. Think about it. Black hair, blue eyes, height difference, well-worn sweatshirts and music recommendations. You don’t have any idea what he could possibly be mocking me for?”

 Virgil’s brow creased in thought, and suddenly it hit him and he audibly gasped, making Logan swallow nervously, and the word pining soared to the front of his mind, “Y-You. You mean?”

 “I am… Interested in you Virgil. Romantically. I have been since far before I ever sat at your table, the broken outlet just provided a good excuse for me to finally attempt to talk to you. Roman was… blunt but he had informed me that he was, and I quote, ‘Coming to see what the fuss was about’ after I got, I admit, a bit too in depth in lamenting my inability to ask you out on a date. I had no idea he would be so infuriatingly obtuse about it, I hope he did not make you uncomfortable. Obviously, you do not share the sentiment-”

 “Whoa whoa. Hold on there. Who said I didn’t?” Virgil cut in quickly before Logan could keep babbling, recognizing social anxiety when he saw it, “Cuz I sure didn’t.”

 “...I’m sorry?”

 “You should be. Can’t go assuming stuff about people, L. Now why don’t you ask me, straightforward, if I am interested. Because I can guarantee you will like the answer.”

 Logan cleared his throat, then swallowed thickly, his cheeks lightly pink, “Well then, Virgil, I like you very much and would like to know if you would like to accompany me to dinner this Friday night? As a date?”

 “I’ll do you one better, since I also very much like you back, and I don’t think my anxiety could take waiting that long. Let’s go get some food right now. I’m starving and I would very much like to kiss you and I want to get at least one date in before I totally ruin your opinion of me and do that right here in this library, and Friday can be our second date, deal?” Virgil offered, extending his hand across the table to Logan.

 Logan grasped his hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a heady glance up through his glasses, “V, I think you will find that there is not much that you could do which I would not fully endorse at this moment. But I absolutely accept this proposal. Let’s go.”

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 5 years later, almost exactly to the day, Roman is insufferable during his best man speech about the fact that he is the reason they even got together in the first place, and insists that if left to their own devices they would still be meeting at 7pm on weeknights and 1pm on weekends at a table in the corner of the library with the good chairs and never, ever confessing their love. Logan and Virgil are too busy clinging to each others’ hands and staring into each others’ eyes to dispute it at all.

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Being Known Is Being Loved

being known is being loved

“i know your pizza order” “you have freckles on your ears” “you make this face when you’re tired” “you order green tea on a good day black on a bad day” “you always make that face before you try something” “the tips of your ears turn red when you’re angry” “i knew you’d say something” “you must be exhausted to miss the class” “your favorite pie is pumpkin, right?” “i know your phone number, don’t worry” “you miss me, i can tell” “you fiddle with your pens when you’re bored” “you don’t like converse unless they’re high tops” “your favorite cereal is cinnamon toast crunch and you first ate it when you were 8”

being known is being loved.

(@natasharxmanov) (post since deleted, see here and here)

(read on ao3)

“You do that thing with your tongue when you’re curious or excited.”

Tony stopped, feeling air brush against his stomach where his tank top had ridden up. His hands carefully caressed the new arc reactor model, even as the rest of him focused his attention on the man sitting on the workshop’s sole couch. “Huh?”

Stephen’s ears turned red, as though even he didn’t know why he’d spoken. “I said, you do that thing with your tongue when you’re curious or excited.” He gestured at Tony’s mouth, trying to replicate the little tongue-rolling gesture.

It didn’t really work, but Tony smiled anyway. “I never noticed.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Stephen shrugged before looking away almost snappishly, returning his attention to the research he had open on his laptop. “I noticed.”

*

“Because they’re your favorite flower.”

“You can’t blame me!” Tony insisted, trying to defend himself as Stephen wrestled the urge to laugh. “I thought it was a good idea!”

“How was sending me flowers that I’m allergic to a good idea in your head?”

They were standing against the railing on the Brooklyn Bridge, looking out on the East River. They’d finished their Chinese takeout as the sun set, and now they were enjoying the display of white and gold lights on the blackened water. Tony had his back to the river, speaking with grand, sweeping gestures of his hands as he tried to justify himself to a laughing Stephen, who was leaning over the metal bar as though daring the water to rise up and take him.

“Because, they’re your favorite flower.”

Stephen shook his head, brow scrunching. “What?”

Tony nodded insistently. “They are! Whenever we walk by a flower shop, or a store with flowers in it, you stop to look at the lilies.” He paused before adding. “I know remember that it was usually from a distance.”

Stephen tilted his head, trying to think. He guessed that was true. He’d always thought they were pretty, particularly the stargazers like the ones Tony had sent to his office at the hospital. And he wasn’t even the type to care for flowers or other naturey things like that. He definitely hadn’t thought Tony had cared to notice.

Tony had his head tilted back, looking up at the few stars that managed to shine in the light-flooded city. “Maybe I can get someone over at R&D to look into making a new strain . . .”

“Or you could just buy plastic ones,” Stephen suggested, smiling despite himself. “Instead of inventing a new flower.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Stephen chuckled. “My mistake.”

*

“You prefer a peppermint stick in your coffee in winter.”

Tony held his hand out, frowning when Stephen ignored him. “Doc? Coffee?”

“Hold on.” Stephen awkwardly held up the cardboard drink tray with one hand while the other fished around one of the pockets in his long, dark-blue wool coat. His eyes, grey today, lit up when he found what he was looking for. “Got it.” He held out a small paper bag. “Take one.”

Tony arched a brow. “There better not be something gross in there.”

“What gross thing would I be carrying around?”

“I don’t know. Brains? Figure they have to go somewhere after you take them out.”

“That’s not what my job is.”

“Sure.” Tony did, finally, reach into the bag, surprised when he pulled out a red-and-white striped candy. “Ooh. Have I earned a treat?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “You prefer a peppermint stick in your coffee in winter. Thought it would be a good idea to stock up.”

“Man after my own heart,” Tony said blithely, ignoring the warm feeling that stirred in his stomach. He took two sticks, pulling the lid off of his cup when Stephen handed it to him and dropping both inside. It took a few minutes for the flavor to seep into the entire drink. When he finally took a sip, he couldn’t help the not-so-tiny moan that escaped his lips.

Stephen smirked. “Enjoying yourself.”

“Obviously.” He took another long drink before grabbing the front of Stephen’s coat and pulling him in for a kiss,  smiling when Stephen’s tongue ran over his. “Doc, if you wanted a taste, you could get your own candy.”

Stephen stepped forward and away from him as though nothing had happened, enjoying a draw if his own burning hot mocha. “Bold of you to assume I’m sharing again.”

“Oh, that’s just evil.”

*

“You always listen to this album when you’re thinking about your sister.”

“You always listen to this album when you’re thinking about your sister.”

Stephen didn’t bother to look at him, keeping his eyes steadily trained on the water pouring outside their window, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, not quite drowned out by the Nirvana soundtrack playing in the bedroom. Everyone now and then, lightning cut through the sky.

“I know.”

Tony nodded as though this was the answer he’d expected. Then he started walking across the room, shutting the door behind him, and crawled into the bed arms opening instinctively to wrap around Stephen’s shoulders as the doctor silently nuzzled his chest and neck.

*

“You always play with your phone so you don’t have to pay attention to this scene.”

“I do not get emotional—”

“Yes you do! You always play with your phone so you don’t have to pay attention to this scene!”

“It’s. SAD, STEPHEN!” Tony snapped back. “The mother whale tries so hard to save her baby, but in the end the goddamned . . . killer whales . . .” Okay, maybe he DID get a little bit emotional when they watched nature documentaries. It wasn’t his fault the circle of life was brutal.

Stephen sighed as Tony completely failed at not being emotional, shaking his head slightly before holding his arms open. “Come here.”

“Thank you,” Tony muttered later as Stephen dutifully fast-forwarded through the scene.

“Don’t worry about it.”

*

“Don’t worry, I know your order.”

“Goddamn—” Stephen pulled his ringing phone out before absently glancing at his fiancé. “It’s work. Do you mind?”

Tony shrugged absently, looking down at his menu. “Don’t worry, I know your order.” He looked up. “The special butternut squash ravioli, right?”

Stephen smiled before leaning forward to brush a kiss against his cheek. “You know me.”

*

“You’re always losing this, so I put a label on the drawer.”

“C’mon . . . where is it . . . I know I left it . . .” Actually, he had no idea where he left it. Giving up, he leaned back on his knees and away from the open compartment. “Jarvis, do you know where—”

“Here,” Stephen said, slipping down from his stool and walking over to a completely different set of drawers on the other side of the room from where Tony was searching. “I’ve got it.”

“You don’t even know what I’m looking for—”

He stopped as Stephen pulled out the exact thing he’d been looking for, a laser cutting tool he often used when making repairs to the armor. Stephen dropped it into his hand as he explained, “You’re always losing this, so I put a label on the drawer.”

Tony couldn’t help the amused expression that crested his lips. “That’s the nerdiest way to say ‘I love you’ I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you complaining?”

Tony scoffed before leaning forward to “innocently” nip at his ear. “No.”

*

“These gloves are easier on your hands, right?”

Stephen stared at the offering in Tony’s fingers, the soft black leather that he knew would be lined with devastatingly soft white fur repurposed from one of Maria Stark’s old wraps. His throat tightened.

“Steph?” Tony said cautiously. “These gloves are easier on your hands, right?”

Forcing himself to move, Stephen nodded sharply before taking them, his own fingers shaking. “Right. Yes.” It took too long to pull them on, but once it was done, it was as though a burden had been lifted, his scarred hands stilling some as they adjusted to the comfortable warmth. “Thanks.”

Tony nodded once before starting to walk away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Stephen stopped him with a gentle hand on his elbow. Tony froze in place as Stephen stepped forward, leaning his forehead against the nape of Tony’s neck. “Thank you.”

Slowly, Tony reached back, pulling one of Stephen’s hands around so it was resting on his stomach then covered it with his own.

*

“You smell different.”

“You smell different.”

Tony paused, looking away from the small herd of children running around the lake house or playing on their phones to face his husband. “Is that a come-on or some kind of sick way to tell me to take a shower?”

Stephen shrugged. “Neither. You’re just . . . different.” He learned forward, being far too open with the fact that he was sniffing Tony’s neck in plain view of everyone. “Are you wearing a new cologne?”

It took Tony a moment to think, somewhat preoccupied by the (annoyingly innocent) feeling of Stephen’s lips brushing over his neck. “Um . . . yeah, actually. I, uh, started using a new one a few years ago. After you, you know.” It was perhaps not the most graceful way to refer to someone being dead for five years, but hoe was he supposed to think with Stephen practically draped over him like this?

Stephen nodded, sitting back slightly. Tony fought the urge to pull him right back. “That’s probably it.” Then he went right back to sitting a respectable inch away from him, watching the children to make sure they didn’t get too close to the water.

Tony hesitated, watching him. “I could . . . go back to using the old one.”

Stephen glanced at him from the side before allowing a small smile to grace his cupid-bow lips. “I’d like that.”

*

“I made sure to get the pens you like.”

“I made sure to get the pens you like,” Tony said casually, passing a paper shopping bag over to his husband, who looked through it with mild interest.

When Stephen looked up, his eyes were mildly amused. “Yeah? And which pens do I like?”

“The blue ones. Inky, so if you hold it still for too long you’ll make a huge mess all over the paper.”

“My favorite.”

“Told you.”

*

“Your arm must be giving you trouble after today.”

Tony winced as he sat down on the bed, head aching as surely as his shoulder. It took a few minutes for him to even start removing the metallic arm for the night.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” Stephen asked, suddenly appearing on the other side of their bed, even though Tony was sure he hadn’t even been in the house a moment ago. “Robots in Toronto . . . your arm must be giving you trouble after today. The hot water will help.” His hands twitched at his side, as though reminding Tony how his husband knew that.

Tony smiled softly despite himself. “You always know just what I need.”

Stephen returned his gaze, pale eyes soft. “Do you want a bath bomb?”

“Vanilla and rose, please.”

Stephen shook his head good-naturedly. “Pampered little rich boy.”

“Gold digger.”

“You know it.”

“That tub’s big enough for two, right?”

*

“You’re always starving after a trip like that.”

“I’m late,” Stephen said, gritting his teeth as he stumbled through a portal into the dining room. “I know I’m late . . .”

It was immediately obvious that everyone else had gone to bed — but Tony was still there, hunched over the table as he read something on his starkphone. He looked up when he heard Stephen, smiling. “Hey.” The oven light was on. Tony stood, opening it and pulling out a still-warm lasagna, though only half of it left in the (frankly, huge) pan. “Made sure there was plenty left for you. You’re always starving after a trip like that.” He glanced over his shoulder, removing his oven mitts. “When you go all extra-dimensional and all.”

“That’s not really what it’s called.” But Stephen went ahead, feeling the Cloak of Levitation detach itself from his back as he sat down. He smiled as Tony set his plate in front of him. “Thank you. For waiting up.”

Tony smiled that too-bright smile of his, dark eyes almost glowing. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

*

“You have forty-eight freckles on your shoulder.”

Tony shifted in bed, not turning around, but just moving his head enough to catch sight of Stephen tracing lines along his back. “Come again?”

Stephen’s hand, tired and shaking, traced gentle constellation along Tony’s tired back and arms. “You have forty-eight freckles on your shoulders. I must have counted a hundred times by now, and it’s always the same, summer or winter.”

“It’s a universal constant,” Tony said thoughtlessly.

The corner of Stephen’s mouth edged up in a smile. “I hope so.”

*

“Your eyes are always blue in this light.”

Around them, the beach was nearly deserted, a tiny bubble of solitude. They could hear Pepper and Christine corralling the children in the distance. The sun was setting, drops of gold splashing upon the watery horizon. Tony leaned back on his metal red-and-gold arm, gazing at Stephen, who was meditating beside him. He spoke without thinking. “Your eyes are always blue in this light.”

Stephen looked over at him, eyes instinctively opening. Tony smiled. “Yeah. Like that.”

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 19 - THE KING’S GAMBIT

Good evening all. So now that we are all caught up with the previous two chapters, I am posting the most recent chapter called The King’s Gambit. This one also is NSFW. It will be the last of this type for a while, since are many other things these two babies need to do, like go back to work. 

Why did this chapter take so long? I don’t know. All I know is I couldn’t get it right. So thank you to @scubalass​ who kept on me until it become something worth posting.

I appreciate any thoughts, comments, suggestions, recommendations that anyone may have. Any questions anyone has fire away.

So without any further delay, I give to you, for better or worse:

Edinburgh to Scotland

Chapter 19

The King’s Gambit

The pale cold light from a winter sun came through the bedroom window. It was the type of light that illuminated but did not lend warmth. It was, however, warm and cozy in bed next to Claire. Jamie didn’t want to get up by a long shot, but the reality of life would intrude today and there was no sense in postponing it.

He quietly got up rummaging through a drawer finding an old pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt; he dressed quickly turned and looked at Claire sleeping.

Her hair was a wild mess, like a dandelion puff that exploded. She’ll hate it, he thought. He, on the other hand, rather liked it as he thought it suited her, ferocious and untamed. Maybe that was what he loved about her. She reminded him of the Highlands, fierce, unrestrained, yet warm, loving, and tender as a spring flower. And beautiful. He gently brought the blanket up to cover her properly and silently left her to her slumber.

Claire turned onto her side searching for Jamie only finding a cold empty bed. Cracking one eye open she scoured the room for any sign of her Scot. To her dismay, he was nowhere to be found. She wiggled her bum intending to burrow down into the inviting bed for a few more minutes of sleep when the enticing smell of fresh coffee wafted under her nose pulling at her like a doomed sailor to a siren’s song.

Standing up, Claire smiled at the pleasant soreness between her legs remembering their amorous activities of last night and earlier this morning. Thinking she would find him in the kitchen, she wrapped her robe around herself and padded off in search of her Scot and coffee. 

She found him seated at the island, a coffee mug in hand staring intently at his laptop. Leaning over, Claire wrapped her arms around him resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Good morning,” she murmured, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek.

Jamie took her hand lovingly kissing her palm, “Ye slept well then, lass?” he inquired. 

“Very well. Better than I have in a long time,” Claire replied sounding pleased.

She turned her head to observe the screen realizing he had logged in to the hospital’s portal to review their upcoming OR schedule.

“I see you’re busy checking our calendar.”

“Aye, I have. There’s a CABG followed by a mitral valve repair/replacement as soon as we get back. The remainder of the week is just as busy.” He was crestfallen at not being able to help her. “Ye ken I canna help ye. So I was looking tae see who was free.”

Claire poured a cup of coffee and sat next to Jamie to review the surgical roster. “Look, I think Pound is free all week. He’s getting ready to graduate and could use more hands-on time. And he is quite good. I trust him. I think we have our problem solved,” Claire said as she sipped her coffee. “Do you think you could cover my other duties while I’m operating? That should ease the burden on the two of us.”

“I can. Now I just need to tell the Chief,” Jamie rolled his eyes and grimaced with the prospect of having this conversation with the pompous old windbag.

“Then I shall leave you to it,” Claire grabbed her cup and stood as if to leave wanting to give Jamie some privacy for the phone call.

“No, I dinna want ye to leave,” he reached out grasping her hand.  It was strange how he had come to rely on her in such a short time. Claire became his pillar, his strength. 

“I dinna like the man. He may be Chief but…there is just something about him that’s no’ right.”

She looked at him with sympathy. “I know what you mean. I have thought him to be rather Janus-faced, friendly and kind but insincere and unscrupulous. I have heard rumors about how he treats other surgeons,” provoking a shiver to run down her spine. “But, he likes you. I don’t think there should be much of a problem.”

“Aye, that's what I fear. “I dinna like his attentions,” he huffed. 

“You are very talented and a much better surgeon than he is. He knows it and I have a suspicion he doesn’t like it.”

Jamie blushed at her praise. That kind of praise coming from Claire Beauchamp meant something.

Tightening his grip on her hand, he pulled Claire closer. He looked up at her beseechingly. “Besides, mo nighean donn, this affects you as well. We have been partners long before we became…more.”

He didn’t know how to define what they are. Boyfriend and girlfriend? That sounds rather like high school. Lovers? That they were. But it did not encompass everything. Companions, partners? That still did not cover what their relationship was. He was at a loss to explain what their relationship should be called. What would explain it enough without demeaning its significance? Did it really matter how they referred to each other? She is the love of his life. And that’s what mattered. 

“Ye need to be part of the discussion and the solution.” He looked at her encouraging her to stay. 

“You’re right, Jamie. We need to face things together.”

“Aye, there’s the two of us now,” he smiled with the thought. Whatever they faced they would present a united front. 

Taking a deep breath, Jamie placed the call. 

“Good day to ye Ainsley. Dr. Fraser here, would the Chief be available?” Jamie inquired almost hoping that he was not. Get it over with Fraser. If not now then it will be later. Jamie heaved a large sigh.

“Aye, Dr. Fraser. Let me connect you.”

Soft nondescript music played as he waited for his boss to pick up the line. He puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with impatience, anxious to get the call over with.

“Jaamie,” the honeyed voice drawled. “How is my favorite surgeon? Hum? Ready to come back with all these new techniques that will improve our department?” The avarice was apparent in his voice. His greed extended not only to money, but to position, fame, but most of all power.

“Weel, sir that’s the reason for my call. I had a wee accident while in Boston injuring my right hand and I’ll no’ be able to operate for a few weeks.”

Claire placed her hand on Jamie’s thigh giving it a gentle squeeze in support.

“You what!?” The Chief sputtered. “Where was Beauchamp while all of this was going on??” He muttered under his breath, but obviously not low enough not to be heard, “Damn the woman! You think she could control one man.”

Claire’s hand went to cover her mouth to smother her laughter. She expected nothing better from him. “Utter arse!”

Jamie scowled at her, for laughing. Claire shrugged her shoulders, leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“She was no’ there when the accident happened. I should be fine in a few weeks. In the meantime, Dr. Beauchamp and I have assessed the situation and devised a plan that will allow for our caseload tae go on unimpeded. I believe that Dr. Elias Pound is available to assist Dr. Beauchamp with the surgeries while I assume the teaching, rounding, and clinic duties. We believe this is a satisfactory solution.”

“It seems you two have everything sorted. I can always count on the two of you to rise to the occasion.” There was a brief pause in the conversation accompanied by some soft muttering from Sandringham’s end. “Jamie, I want you to see our hand surgeon, Dr. Hildegarde de Gascogne to manage your care. As you are aware, she is world-renowned and I want only the best for you, my lad.  You are a very valuable asset to our department, ” he wheezed. ”Ainsley will call you with an appointment.”  Sandringham’s feigned attempt at concern was easily heard in his voice as it was hollow lacking sincerity for Jamie’s well being.

His tone became unctuous and slick, “Are you in much pain, dear boy? Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Ah, no. Thank ye, Dr. Sandringham. Dr. Beauchamp and I have this well under control. I’ll be expecting Ainsley’s call.” 

“Very well then. Oh, and Dr. Fraser do be more careful, hmm?”

“Aye, sir. Good day tae ye.” He exhaled heavily now feeling able to draw a deep breath.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Claire said with a smirk.

“Easy for you tae say. Ye dinna have tae speak tae the man.”

“No, I didn’t. But, he thinks I should have prevented you from injuring yourself.” Little did Jamie know that Claire did blame herself for his broken fingers and that he re-injured his hand a second time.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. I promised ye I would beat Frank into a pudding if I ever saw him. ‘Tis an honor tae care for ye, protect ye.”

She looked up at him as if he were her knight in shining armor, “I don't know if I ever thanked you for coming to my rescue that night, but thank you.”

Claire sat on his lap snuggling up against him resting her head in the crook of his neck. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist bringing her closer to him. She relaxed into him feeling safe and loved in his strong arms. Her fingers wound their way through his ginger curls. His hair had grown and was longer than he usually wore it.  “I like your hair a little longer, especially when it curls. I don’t want you to cut it.” 

“As ye wish mo leannan.”

They sat enjoying the peace between them listening to each other's breath.

Jamie leaned down placing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Do ye ken how much I like to hold ye?”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” sighed Claire.

“I do it because I like the nearness of ye.”  He smiled at her shyly as if he were going to impart some great secret. ”There is a hole here in my chest,” he said letting one hand go from around her waist and pointing to his heart. “’Tis been there my whole life. I dinna ken what it was or what caused it, this hollowness there. Now that I found ye I kent what ‘tis. ’Tis a chasm that only ye can fill, Claire. Ye are the missing piece of my heart. And when I hold ye close tae me, ‘tis no’ empty. It doesna hurt anymore when yer near me.”

She kissed his eyelids, the tip of his nose, cheekbones, finally finding his mouth. She kissed him lightly. Growing bolder, she allowed her tongue to trace his lush sensual lips savoring the taste of him. 

Jamie groaned deeply. “Claire,” he whispered her name reverently as if saying a prayer. He looked at her as if she was the embodiment of all that is holy. As if she was sent to him by the gods for him to cherish and love.

Leaning forward her mouth pressed near the tender lobe of his ear as she breathed, “Do you want me, Jamie?”

“Ye dinna ken what ye do tae me mo chridhe. How am I tae resist ye? My body is here tae serve ye as ye wish.

Jamie lowered his face, bringing his lips to hers. His tongue caressed the seam of her lips, seeking entry. Her lips were soft, warm, and yielded to his desire. She opened to him like a flower in full bloom. Their tongues twinned together engaging in a ritual courtship dance.

His cell phone rang and vibrated on the table. He saw it was Sandringham’s office and pushed the phone away with annoyance expecting the message to go to voicemail.

“So, where were we?” He queried as his tongue licked the sensitive skin at the juncture of Claire’s neck and throat. Using his teeth he bit her causing Claire to erupt in chill bumps as she moaned in pleasure.

His hand slid between the folds of the gossamer fabric that covered her. Her skin was warm, silky. And her breasts ah...they were full and heavy. He ran a finger over a nipple making it harden and round just like a perfect pearl. How he longed to take it in his mouth and suckle like a babe at her breast. 

His mobile began to chime and vibrate. It skittered on the slick granite top, pulling their attention to the offending little device. Sighing Claire picked it up showing Jamie the home screen alert. Clarence Sandringham. 

“I think you should take the call. He’ll keep calling. We can always pick up where we left off later.”

Jamie grudgingly answered the call. It was Ainsley with the information about his appointment.

“Thank ye kindly, Ainsley. I will be there,” as he placed the information on his calendar. 

“I’m seeing  Dr. de Gascogne Monday at 1 pm. Do ye think ye will be free tae come with me?”

“You want me to come with you? Why ever for?” She wanted to tease him asking if he was afraid of going to the doctor, but held her tongue.

He looked at Claire with soft sweet imploring eyes, “I would feel better with ye by my side ‘tis all.” The tips of his ears pinked as he thought of his need for her by his side supporting him.

“Well if you wish that I come with you, of course, I will.”

Jamie let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding, “Thank ye Sassenach.” He didn’t want to admit he was nervous and afraid. Afraid his hand would not heal well and he would never be able to operate again. Worse yet, he feared he would not be able to care for Claire, love her, or serve her as she deserves. And she deserved a whole man, not a broken one.

Claire sensing a change in Jamie’s mood cleared her throat feeling that the moment between them had broken. The fire in their bellies had been smoored but not extinguished. She gave Jamie a light kiss on his lips, “Shall I make us breakfast?”

“Nay, lass. ‘Tis my turn to make breakfast. How about I make ye some of my famous parritch with berries? I can do that one-handed.”

“ Alright. Then I guess it’s my turn to make a phone call.”

“Tae who, Sassenach?”

“My dog sitter, Mrs. Bug. I think I should let her know when I’ll be home and pick up Ginger.”

“Aye, that would be a good idea. Ye go on and make yer call. I’ll let ye know when breakfast is ready.”

Claire dialed the number and the phone was picked up quickly. In the background she could hear the cacophony of a television playing, children laughing, and a dog barking. Her sweet girl.

“Ethan, ye wee gomeral, put that down afore ye break it. Hello,” shouted what sounded like an exasperated Mrs. Bug.

“Hallo, Mrs. Bug. It’s Claire. It seems I have caught you at a bad time. I just called to let you know I would be by to pick up Ginger on Sunday evening if that’s alright with you?”

“Claire, ma dearie, och ‘tis not a bad time.”

“Caleb, dinna make me come over there. Be a good lad and eat yer parritach. Dinna put it in yer brother’s hair.” 

“Sunday would be fine. Shall I make ye some soup? I’ll wager ye dinna eat properly while ye were away.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Bug,” Claire sighed with exasperation. Mrs. Bug was always trying to feed her up.  

“Yer too thin, lass. Ye need to put some meat on yer bones. Gives a man something tae hang on tae. Ye ken what I mean?” Claire swore she heard Mr. Bug snicker in the background.

Before she could respond to Mrs. Bugs’ latest attempt to meddle in her life, there was the sound of pottery crashing accompanied by loud wailing in the background.

She seized the opportunity to end the call. “I think you are needed at the moment. I’ll see you on Sunday, Mrs. Bug. Give my regards to your husband. Take care.” Claire clicked off the call and exhaled a deep breath. She did not know how the elderly couple managed to babysit children, pets, and find the time to pry into other people's lives. She was exhausted just listening to the carrying on.

“Is everything alright, Sassenach?”

“Yes, fine. The Bugs are a sweet elderly couple. They are really grandparents to the entire neighborhood. But they take on so much that I just don’t know how they manage.”

“It seems they enjoy it. Everyone needs to feel useful,” Jamie pointed out. “Now, come and eat. Breakfast is ready milady. ‘Tis no’ as fancy as you make it, but it will fill ye up.”

He pulled out her chair waiting for her to take her seat. 

Claire lowered her eyes and a small smile flitted across her face. No man had ever done that for her before.

Jamie served her the parritch topped with strawberries, sliced almonds, and drizzled with honey.

“‘Tis no’ gourmet, but ‘tis no’ lumpy. I dinna like lumpy parritch,” he grimaced with the thought. He stood next to Claire anxiously waiting for her to taste it. Anxious being the operative word. 

Claire dove in tasting his offering. It was delicious. Creamy with a bit of cinnamon in it as well.

Jamie watched intently as she ate it. He didn't know why he was so worried if she liked the parritch, but he was. Well if he was honest with himself he knew she was a better cook than he and he wanted to please her.  He felt foolish worrying so, after all, it was only parritch. But he couldn’t help himself.  “Do ye like it Sassenach? Is it too hot? Maybe ye would like a bit of cream. I dinna want ye tae burn yer tongue. Would ye like more honey? I could make ye something else if ye dinna like it,” he worried chewing his lower lip.

Claire smiled, the tip of her tongue slipped out and caught a golden drop of honey on her lip, “Jamie, it’s delicious, really. Please sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

Pleasure lit up his face at seeing her enjoyment. Hurriedly he sat down and began to eat with great enthusiasm.

They chatted amicably enjoying their meal and each other’s company.

“Why don’t ye take our coffee into tae sitting room, Claire, while I clear the table?” Jamie stood at the sink rinsing the dishes then stacking them in the dishwasher.

“Alright.”  Carrying their mugs of coffee into the sitting room, Claire placed them on the wooden trunk he used as a coffee table. She wandered around the room looking at the objects that occupied the space as if they would reveal the secrets of the man she loved. She came upon a striking antique mahogany table that stood near the fireplace that was inlaid with white and black marble squares. Two elegantly carved chairs were situated so they sat opposite each other at the table. She ran a hand lovingly across the tabletop admiring its fine craftsmanship.

“‘Tis magnificent, is it no’?” he inquired, wrapping his arms around Claire’s waist nuzzling at her neck.  “‘Tis a family heirloom. It belonged to a great, great, great uncle who lived in Paris in tae 18th century. He was a wine merchant and a Jacobite as weel.” 

“It’s  truly beautiful. Do you have the original chessmen that go with it?” asked Claire.

“Aye, I do,” he replied, opening a side draw revealing the chess pieces. He pulled out the black Queen handing it to Claire. 

She stroked it lovingly appreciating the fine detail of the carving. “It is an exquisite piece, a work of art.”

Jamie looked at her hopefully, “Ye wouldna happen tae play would ye? ‘Tis hard for me tae find an opponent. No’ many people want tae play against me.”

Claire brightened, “I do play. Lamb taught me when I was a child.” Her face misted over with the memories of nightly chess games with either Lamb or Firouz by the campfire. Each man taught her what moves to make, strategies to employ, and tried to instill in her the value of competition, of being a good winner. But more importantly, the virtue of losing gracefully.  “Lamb believed that it would make me a logical thinker and develop strong problem-solving skills.  And he was quite right. It’s been invaluable to me as a surgeon.”  But Claire knew that playing chess had increased her already present competitive spirit. She liked to win.

His heart gladdened with the news. “Might I entice ye tae play a game with me?”

“I would love to. It’s been so long though, I might be a bit rusty.” Claire stopped remembering what he said. ‘Tis hard for me tae find an opponent. No’ many people want tae play against me. Curiosity got the better of her. “Um, Jamie? Why can’t you find anyone to play a game with?”

“Sit Sassenach, make yerself comfortable,” he offered. A sly grin spread across his face. “Ladies choice, which do ye prefer, the black or the white?”

“White. No, I’d prefer black. I don’t like making the opening move.”

“Having the opening move can give ye an advantage and ye will need it. I was Captain of my chess club in high school and in Uni. I’m no’ being bold when I tell ye I have won many competitions. I am offering ye a chance tae win.”  A cocky look spread across his face as he went about setting up the chessboard.

So that’s why no one will play with him. He was a chess prodigy. “No, I didn’t know that.” Tapping a finger against the table, Claire carefully weighed this new piece of information deciding how to use it. She played well but simply was not in Jamie’s league.  Her competitive nature rose to the surface with his challenge. If she wanted to win, and she did, she knew she would need an edge. Just, not the one he was offering.

 ”No, I stand by my choice. I’ll take black,” she smiled coyly. There’s more than one way to win this game, my lad, she thought.

The first mistake, he mused. By allowing him to open it would allow him to play aggressively. He wanted the game over in twenty moves or less. And to do that he would make use of the King’s Gambit. Bobby Fischer defeated an opponent in eight maneuvers. Jamie knew he was good but not that good. 

He opened by moving his pawn to e-4. 

Claire countered by placing a pawn to e-5.

A white pawn moved to f-4.

Smiling smugly, Claire accepted the challenge by taking this pawn. 

Just what I want, he thought as his lip turned slightly upward. Not wanting to appear aggressive and moving too quickly, Jamie sat rubbing his chin in concentration.

Looking up he watched as Claire’s fingers lightly stroked her arm up then down. Her fingers eventually traveled up, over her shoulder then down to graze over the edge of her breast. Slowly. Touching herself just with the tips of her fingernails the outline of her breast became visible beneath her silk robe. She followed the same pattern over and over. His mouth hung open hypnotized by her. He shook his head like a wet dog to dispel his thoughts. And oh what thoughts he was having.

“Knight to f-3,” he announced.

Claire smiled taking in his chosen placement.

She licked her lips jutting out her plump bottom lip as she considered her next position.

Surreptitiously, Jamie looked at that sweet voluptuous lip peeping out at him. What he wouldn't give to suck it into his mouth and tease it with his teeth and tongue. Christ, the woman was driving him mad.  Get yer mind back on the game, he told himself.

“Pawn to g-5.”

Jamie looked pleased with her play. He bit the inside of his cheek while considering his next strategic move.

Claire studied the board intently waiting for Jamie to place his piece. Her index finger gravitated to her lips gently gliding over it. Lips parting, her fingertip entered her mouth and she began to lightly suck it. Her finger floated across her lips making them glisten with the dew from her mouth. She smiled coquettishly as she dropped her hand to caress the black Bishop. Her movements were sensuous, sliding over the chess piece from top to bottom, bottom to top. She made a slight twisting motion as she stroked the piece. 

Jamie’s eyes never left her hand. His mouth went dry.

“It’s still your turn” she whispered demurely. 

“Pawn to h-4,” he choked out his words. Small beads of sweat appeared on his lip.

“Pawn to g-5” she stated sweetly. 

Jamie refused to look up at her, “Knight to g-5.”

“Hum, interesting, Pawn to h-6.” Jamie’s hand rested next to the board. She placed her hand over his and began to trace patterns over the back of his hand.

He burned from the contact of her skin on his. Gently he removed his hand, immediately regretting the loss of her caress. Rubbing the side of his nose he tried to clear his head from the sight and feel of her. He meant to win this game and she was doing her best to distract him. Weel, he wouldna let her.

“Knight to f-7,” Jamie countered hoping Claire would expose her King.

Claire brought her King forward taking Jamie’s Knight.

“Queen to g-4,” Jamie grinned, setting up his advanced attack.

“Knight to f-6,” Claire defends her King. 

Jamie smirked, after this move, he was three moves away from winning. “Queen to f-4.”

He looked at Claire, finding her absorbed pondering her next move. Her hand followed the V of the neckline of her robe. Leaning forward, her hand gracefully began to trace her décolletage exposing more and more skin with each pass of her hand. Soon the curve of her breast was exposed. 

His eyes darkened with just a sliver of blue iris exposed. A deep rumbling noise rose from the back of his throat, dangerous, predatory. 

Stretching, Claire reached for her King placing it on f-8 enabling Jamie to see her hardened nipples straining against the filmy fabric. 

He rose walking to the side of the table bending over as if to examine the position of the pieces in play. Straightening up he turned and snatched Claire’s arm pulling her impossibly close to his heated body. 

“Let’s play something else,” he growled, capturing her mouth as he had planned on seizing her King. His mouth was hungry for hers. He licked, nipped, and tasted her mouth with kisses slow and erotic. One hand reached up and cupped her head while the other drew her closer against him, jealous of the space the air between them occupied. His kisses deepened, searing her lips. His hand buried deeper into her curls, as his kisses became more demanding.

 Claire melted against him, her mouth open to him as her robe gave way leaving her exposed. He palmed her breast roughly feeling the puckered nipple under his hand. He rolled it between his fingers causing her to whimper. 

“Yer a right dodgy player Claire. Ye dinna play fair teasing me, distracting me throughout the game,” he snarled. “And for that, yer coming with me. We’re gonna play a new game.”

He lifted her, threw her over his shoulder, and strode with single-mindedness toward the bedroom.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Fraser? Put me down this instant!” Claire bellowed kicking her legs, hitting him in the back in between fits of laughter. 

“Haud yer wheesht, woman!” 

Jamie unceremoniously dropped Claire onto the bed. Standing at the side of the bed he loomed over her. His breath harsh and his chest heaving. His eyes were glazed over with lust. She lit a fire in his belly that needed to be put out. He licked his lips anticipating what was to come next. 

Claire scrambled to her knees backing away from him just a little.

Raising her chin in defiance, “What do you plan on doing to me?”

His lips curled into a smirk, “I’m going to kiss ye.”

She blinked. “We’re going to play a kissing game? Isn’t that childish?” she asked in confusion.

“Oh no, lassie, ‘tis a verra good game. ‘Tis one where I get tae devour ye and leave ye with naught but yer cries for mercy.”

Claire studied him, trying to puzzle him out. She eventually gave it up as a lost cause.

“Um, well I do like kissing you.”

“I ken that.” His eyes gleamed.

Jamie crawled up onto the bed. His body radiated so much heat it could be felt from several inches away. He was a blazing inferno.

He sat back on his haunches fixing her with a piercing look. 

Claire’s spine tingled under his scrutiny. It was unnerving her.

“Give me yer mouth, Sassenach,” he requested sweetly.

Claire leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his lips.

“Ok, so we’re done, right?” she asked nervously not quite knowing what to expect. 

“And ye call that a kiss? Tsk! Nay, we haven’t even started yet,” he grinned wickedly.

Jamie removed his shirt then sat back to remove his sweatpants. 

He shifted himself to sit so his back rested against the headboard. “Come here, sit beside me,” he requested, patting the space next to him.

Claire hesitated for a moment then moved to sit beside him.

His arm came up wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“See, that’s so much nicer, is it no’?”

“What are you up to Jamie?” she asked one eyebrow quirked in question.

“I told ye, a nighean I just want to kiss ye.” 

He cupped her face, turning it toward him. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips. Slowly he lowered his face until their lips were a breath away. He placed a kiss so light it felt like the wings of a dove floating across her lips

“‘Tis pleasant?” he whispered into her mouth.

“Yes,” Claire replied breathily.

“Good. May I kiss ye again?”

“Mmhm.”

Brushing an errant curl away from her face, he tilted her head back seeking out her mouth like he did that morning. Still sweet from the honey and berries he ate for breakfast, he fitted his lips to her’s. Slowly he increased the pressure on Claire���s mouth molding them together creating delicious friction. 

Jamie pulled away momentarily giving her a sinful grin. His eyes engulfed her, finally settling on her mouth. He felt like a man drowning and only her kiss and her breath could save him.  Her mouth was his lifeline. Jamie lowered his head and began to rain kisses across her mouth lightly at first then deeply, possessively.

Jamie broke away, resting his forehead against hers. Tenderly he brushed his lips across her cheek, then to her ear to nibble at the shell. Finding her succulent earlobe, he drew it into his mouth caressing it suggesting things yet to come.

Claire dropped her head back whimpering, making an offering of her alabaster neck to him. She pulled at his hair, dragging him closer.

Jamie plied his attentions to the long column of her neck, nibbling, sucking her sensitive skin. Using his mouth he gently nudged her robe off her shoulders letting it drop off her shoulders, and slide down her arms pooling around her hands and bum. 

Claire sucked in her lower lip gently biting it.

He grinned. Softly, he placed tiny kisses along her shoulder working his way down her arms until he reached her hand. He kissed her wrist, her palm. Raising her hand so she could see, he took each finger into his mouth and sucked each digit in its turn.

Claire began to shudder and breathe heavily by the time he finished with her thumb.

Jamie repeated his ministrations to the opposite hand, arm and shoulder. Dropping his head, he lowered his lips brushing them across her chest down to her breast. Finding her nipple he began to suckle one then the other making each one harden and pebble. He scraped his teeth gently against the tender nipple as it slipped from his mouth. 

She became restless, shifting her body arching her back needing to come closer to him.  Claire gasped at the sensations running through her.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your love is more delightful than wine,” Claire whispered. 

“Quoting Scripture are ye?” Jamie smiled broadly knowing what he was doing to her.

His mouth and tongue trailed kisses down over her belly, slowly, languorously. “Beautiful, yer so beautiful mo nighean donn.”

“Jamie, I... I... ah...Oh, god.”

He chuckled, as he felt her melt with each kiss he pressed on her. She deserved every slow torturous one he would give her. After all, fair’s fair.

Jamie continued his downward trek, kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh, behind her knee, down to her toes. Using the opposite leg he began his ascent toward his ultimate goal.

“Jamie, please, I need...I want...more. Please, Jamie.”

“Do ye no’ like my kisses? Do ye want me tae stop?” he asked, giving her a soulful look. His voice was full of hurt and disappointment.

 Leaning up on her elbows to look him in the face, “No, no. I mean I want more. Christ, I don’t know what I mean.” And she flopped back onto the pillows, biting her lip and began uttering odd throaty sounds.

He smiled smugly, “Then ye shall have it.”

Reaching her core, he blew softly over it causing Claire to buck. 

“Hush now, Sassenach let me kiss ye.”

His mouth settled into its work, beginning to kiss her most intimately. Lightly at first then pressing deeper lavishing all his attention on her sensitive flesh. 

Claire moaned and whined. Her hands tangled in his hair sliding down to cup his face. Close, she was so close. “Jesus H. Roooosevelt Chrissst,” she hissed.

And then he stopped and rose up to sit next to her. He was hard as stone but was determined to see this through. She needed to learn it wasn’t nice to manipulate someone especially someone who loves them. “What would ye like to do now, Sassenach? Watch a movie? We could read a book, perhaps? Maybe a nice brisk walk instead.”

“Whaaat? What do you mean what do I want to do? I want you to finish what you started,” she snarled with frustration.

“Oh, but I did, my own,” he said as he leaned over to kiss the crown of her head. I said I wanted tae kiss ye and I did. I also said I would leave ye with naught but yer cries for mercy. And I did that too.” A satisfied grin plastered over his face.

“Mac na galla,” she shouted at him as she picked up a pillow and swung it at him beating him ferociously wherever she could reach him.  

He laughed at her use of Gàidhlig to swear at him while trying to deflect the blows of the murderous pillow.

“I surrender madam, I surrender, ” he laughed. She looked so fierce his wee Sassenach lassie. Eyes flashing, skin flushed with anger, all pink and rosy. She was glorious.

“That isn’t very nice of you, Jamie Fraser. To leave me all worked up wanting, needing…” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Now ye ken how I felt during the chess match.”

She looked abashed as she clutched the pillow to her chest. “Well, I wanted to win,” she muttered petulantly as she gave him a sidelong look.  “I mean you were bragging about what a great chess champion you are, so I resorted to using my womanly wiles. I had to do something to even the playing field,” she retorted. Claire turned her head away as she picked at an imaginary loose thread on the pillow slip, “I shouldn’t have done that. It was very poor sportsmanlike behavior on my part,” she blushed. “But you set me up, Jamie Fraser. You didn’t tell me you were some great chess champion until after I agreed to the match. That wasn't fair either,” she glared at him.

“Aye, yer right, and I’m sorry for it. Forgive me, Claire?”

Her facial expression softened from annoyance to tenderness, “Yes, forgiven. Forgive me too?”

Jamie tipped her head up and looked into her eyes that reminded him of liquid honey fresh from the hive. “Forgiven, mo ghràdh.”

“We could have a re-match if you like.” 

“I dinna think so, ye’ll cheat. Ye canna help it,” he glowered at her. “Let’s just leave it as a draw, hm?”

“You’re right about that,” Claire laughed. “I don’t like losing. A draw it is.”

“Come here mo chridhe, ” he beamed holding open his arms to her.

Claire eyed him suspiciously, “What are you planning to do?”

“I want tae kiss ye, ” he chuckled.

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to get me all riled up again and not finish the job. I'm no fool you know.”

“Never thought ye were. I just thought we could start at the beginning and see where it takes us,” he proposed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sound like a plan?”

Claire launched herself into his arms, ”Aye, that sounds wonderful.”

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

CABG - Coronary Artery Bypass Grafting - Treatment used for blocked coronary arteries. Open heart surgery.

Mitral Valve Repair/Replacement is a treatment used to repair if possible the mitral valve. If it is not repairable, it is replaced either with a tissue valve made from the lining of a pig or cow’s heart or a metallic mechanical valve. It is possible for any heart valve to be repaired or replaced, not only the mitral.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your love is more delightful than wine - Song of Songs 1:2 New International Version of the Holy Bible

[dead-inside-mcgee]

Beyond that Door Chapter 4

A ladder

Yes I do write stuffs

Summary: On one hand, free clothing sounded great. On the other hand, Chase’s growing romantic feelings did not muffle his paranoia at all. On the third hand, this sounded kind of like charity, and Chase didn’t need or want any of that, nor did he really feel like he deserved it. And on the fourth hand, which at this point there are far too many hands, if this man could just offer to do something like that, without a hint of anxiety, then that probably meant he was fairly financially stable. And financial stability was on Chase’s top ten for most attractive traits.

Warnings: implied sexual content, mentions of murder

Taglist: @rabbitsartcorner @caori-azarath @murder-schmurder

Chase blinked his eyes open, trying to remember where he was. He was watching a movie, the parents were looking over old pictures and discovered that their daughter's ghost was actually in some of the pictures, other than the ones the son photoshopped her in.

  Chase smiled to himself. He’d have to watch that movie again when he wasn’t on a not-date with a criminal. What happened after that? 

  The credits rolled. He was about to make some excuse to leave. Anti was talking about something. He started pouring a glass of wine....

  The bathroom door opened, flooding the room with light and steam as Anti stepped out in just a towel. 

  ”Oh!” he said with a bright smile. “I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up. I suppose I can’t blame you considering the work out you gave me.” He chuckles lightheartedly.

  Chase blushed, suddenly aware of the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on. Last night came flashing back to him in a series of images, like someone made a shitty PowerPoint presentation about it. He covers his face in the blanket in embarrassment, earning another light chuckle from Anti. 

  Chase couldn’t help but peak out while Anti was dressing. Despite all the paranoia and suspension he had surrounding the man, he did find him quite attractive. And if last night was anything to go off of, the feeling was mutual. 

  Maybe Anti wasn’t the weird supervillain in Chase’s mind. Maybe the strange man he saw at the building was someone else, he only really got a glimpse...

  Chase’s wandering thoughts of possible romance were torn from him by the malicious hands of capitalism. 

  “Oh fuck I’m late for work!” 

  “Actually-” Anti started, grabbing Chase’s arm before he could bolt out the door in just his slipping pants “-a pipe burst, flooding a large part of the first few floors in sewage. Work is closed for a few days for repairs.” He led him over to his laptop, showing him the email explaining that in forty times the word count. 

  Chase sighed in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

  “So. Since we have a couple of days free, how would you like to go shopping with me? I will pay for everything, and not to be rude, but you really need more clothing. I’ve noticed you’ve worn the same grey shirt ten times in a row.” 

  “Actually, I bought a pack of twelve grey shirts.” He said, putting grey shirt number eleven back on. “It was on sale.” 

  “I honestly feel like that makes it worse.” 

  On one hand, free clothing sounded great. On the other hand, Chase’s growing romantic feelings did not muffle his paranoia at all. On the third hand, this sounded kind of like charity, and Chase didn’t need or want any of that, nor did he really feel like he deserved it. And on the fourth hand, which at this point there are far too many hands, if this man could just offer to do something like that, without a hint of anxiety, then that probably meant he was fairly financially stable. And financial stability was on Chase’s top ten for most attractive traits. 

  He whimpered, talking a step back. It felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, and Chase’s claustrophobia made him want to panic. And then a fifth hand popped up to ask a question. What about Marvin?

  In the pure anxiety of last night and the confusing morning, Marvin had completely slipped his mind. The poor witch was probably worried sick.

  “I’m sorry!” He made his way for the front door. “I promised a friend I would hang out with them last night and they’re probably worried sick that I never showed up.” He didn’t wait for a response from Anti, simply running out.

  Panic set in. He should turn around. No, keep running. He didn’t think he could even face Marvin in this state. 

  He ran into his apartment, not even wondering why his front door was unlocked. 

***

Under every town there are tunnels. Whether they are made by animals like worms, moles, or crawfish. Or they’re made by time, like undiscovered caves. Or they’re made by secret organizations that use them to get around fast and to watch our every move. There are tunnels.

  Marvin discovered his own set of tunnels when he first came to this town, and later sealed off a certain part of it later to act as his base. 

  He used to enjoy wandering through the tunnels, drawing graffiti on the walls, and listening in to private conversations. He felt free in the tunnels. But tonight the tunnels felt suffocating. 

  “Where are we going?” Henrik asked timidly. He stumbled every few steps.

  “If they’ve captured Chase, then they probably know we’re looking into this conspiracy, which means my home isn’t safe.”

  “That does not quite answer my question.”

  Marvin didn’t have a good answer. 

  After an hour of walking and quietly swearing from Henrik, Marvin stopped and squeezed him through a small space that opened up into a large, musty room. It looked like a church. There were rows of pews, and the walls were lined with stained glass, which was odd because behind the stained glass windows was layers upon layers of dirt and rock. Like someone built a church in a giant pit, buried it, and forgot about it. 

  Neither of them could quite tell what the windows were depicting, and there were no recognizable religious symbols.

  “This place feels less safe.” Henrik squeaked. 

  “Don’t worry. I’ve never seen or heard anyone here. I’m not sure what this place is, but it’s abandoned.” Marvin laid down on a pew and curled up. 

  “How long do you plan on staying here?” 

  “A week at least. If they check my home, that might see I’m not there and it’ll be safe to return.” 

  There were holes in that plan, but Henrik wasn’t in the right headspace to nitpick it. He did not like it here. He really didn’t like it here. This place felt familiar, and that scared him more than anything.

  Exhaustion hit him hard. He curled up on the ground, which was only slightly more uncomfortable than the pews, and slept. 

  He had a dream. No not a dream. He remembered something.

 ***

It was Tuesday. He remembered that fact cearly. Tuesday the sixteenth, in September. Yesterday was his birthday. He was twenty-four now. 

  He was going shopping. He bought a new lab coat for work. He was a doctor, both of medical and of science. He also still struggled with English despite living in America for several years by now. 

  He meets a man with bright green hair and a smile that felt like the sun on earth. He introduces himself as Sèan, but tells him he goes by Jack.

  “How do you get Jack from Sèan?” he remembers asking. 

  “You don’t!” Jack said, patting him on the back. 

  Then it was evening, they were snuggled up on Jack’s couch, both wasted.

  “I wanna be someone someday!” Jack said loudly. “I want to be the person whose face appears on a billboard, and people can point at my face and say, “‘Hey, I know that guy!’”

  “You could be a model. You’ve got the face for it.” 

  “There’s no honor in being a model, though. I want to save people, not kill their self esteem.”

  “A cop then.”

  “No one likes cops, Henrik.” Jack said firmly, sounding sober for a moment. 

  “True…” He yawned, starting to feel tired. 

  “I want to be something bigger than that. Like a superhero. Maybe I could get into witchcraft.” 

  “You know witchcraft is illegal right?” 

  “Being a vigilante is illegal too, and people love vigilantes. Hey, maybe if I’m big enough and loud enough, I can get rid of the ban on witchcraft!” 

  Henrik giggled, nuzzling his hand. “I believe in you.”

  Jack nodded happily. Suddenly he jolted upright and almost knocked Henrik onto the floor. “Hey! Want to see something cool!”

  Jack led him to a manhole cover that had a thick numerical padlock on it. Jack put in the code 1010 and it popped off. 

  “Not a very secure code.” Henrik commented as Jack dragged him into the sewer. 

  “It’s so dumb that no one would guess it.” 

  “It smells like shit down here.” Henrik groaned. 

  “Yeah, that’d be the shit.” 

  Jack led him to an area where part of the wall seemed to be slightly broken. 

  “Look through the crack in the wall.” 

  Henik did so and he could faintly see a ladder going down. 

  Jack pulled on the wall slightly, making enough space for someone to squeeze in if they really tried. “I’ve never been brave enough to go see where it leads.” 

  Henrik was amazed. This was super cool. It may have been the alcohol clouding his judgement, but he squeezed past the wall and looked down. “Want to find out?” 

  Climbing a ladder drunk is not a smart thing to do, especially if you had no idea where said ladder leads. 

  After a few minutes of climbing, somehow Henrik and Jack made it to the ground without dying. The ladder led to a pair of large doors that looked like the entrance to a church. 

  The two glanced at each other before working together to push open the doors. Inside was eerily like a church. 

  “I don’t like it here.” Jack said, but continued walking into the church anyway. 

  Henrik stepped in and a wave of nausea washed over him. He fell forward, blacking out. That was the last thing Henrik remembered, but the dream continued. 

  Jack spun around, running to go check on him, but some invisible wall seemed to block him from getting any closer. 

  A voice cackled. It was raspy and sounded broken almost. A man appeared. He looked exactly like Jack but wrong. Like someone tried to draw him from memory. There was also a giant cut on this person’s neck. 

  Jack stumbled back and leaned on the invisible wall. “Don't come any closer!” 

  “I won’t, I won’t.” The demon, Jack decided it was a demon, said calmly. “I want to help you friend.” 

  “Help me!? What could you possibly do to help me?” 

  “You want to be a hero, am I correct? I seem to remember that.” 

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Well who doesn’t want to be a hero!? I can help you, for a small price.” 

  “What price?”

  “It’s only something small. I wish the feast on the blood of the wicked. That shouldn’t be much trouble. What’s the lives of millions of good people compared to a few assholes?” 

  Jack thought it over. “How much blood?” 

  “A body every two weeks. If you choose the right people, no one will miss them anyway.” 

  The worst part is that, that sounded like an amazing deal. He glanced back at Henrik. There was a little pool of blood by his face from where he hit his head on the floor. 

  “Is there any other catch to this thing you’re offering me?” 

  “Yes.” The demon waved his hand up and Henrik stood, except it wasn’t Henrik exactly. Something about his eyes was off. 

  “Every superhero needs a villain to defeat, and your boyfriend here will do the trick nicely.”

  Jack grimaced, backing away from “Henrik.” 

  “That doesn’t even have to be a catch. I can erase any memories and feelings you have connected to him. Just shake my hand.” He held a hand out with a big, toothy smile. 

  Jack glanced at the demon, and then at Henrik, and he decided to take his hand. There was a bright flash of light and Henrik woke up. 

  He was about to get up to tell Marvin what he had remembered, but he found himself and Marvin tied up. 

***

Chase fidgeted with part of his robotic arm. It made a nice clicking noise when he twisted one of the fingers in the right way. 

  The mask was starting to wear off, he had enough of the potion left to last him a while, but it still made him kind of sad. 

  There was a knock at the door. Chase groaned and hid under the blanket. It was probably Mrs. Wood, asking if Chase had seen her missing cat.  

  The knocking continued for a few more minutes and then Chase heard a soft creak like someone opened his front door. His stomach dropped. 

  He grabbed a large flashlight, prepared to whack someone. He slowly walked out of his room only to see Anti in his living room. 

  Anti held up his hands. “Hey. You left your keys at my place.” He dropped the keys on the counter. “I know I shouldn’t have busted in, but I assumed you weren’t here.” 

  Chase sighed, putting the flashlight down. Anything Chase wanted to say got caught in his throat. He sat down and covered his face. “Just go away please.” 

  “I also wanted to say I’m sorry. I came on too strongly and I should’ve checked to see if I was crossing any boundaries. I just want this to work.” 

   Anti’s heart shattered. He stepped out into the hallway and got a phone call. 

  “What is it?” He growled. 

  “Fresh blood is here.” Jackie said on the other end.

[mowseries]

Siam, what's the story behind your happiest memory?

[He beamed.]

Siam: Cardinal came to me all excited, you see.

Siam: He had just had a sudden idea. An idea that would change everything.

Siam: We’d been scavenging for parts for a long time. Months! And we were burning through resources fast.

Gemini: Emphasis on theSiamini: “burning”Gemini: part.

Siam: We were thinking of sending Cardinal offline so we could try and reverse-engineer some of his cooling system. He was the one who needed repairs the most, after all.

Siam: It was such aSiamini: shame.

Gemini: All he ever really wanted was the chance to enjoy life. Always perpetuallySiamini: dying…

Siam: But see, “Anon”, that is when he came to us with theSiamini: idea.

Siamini: The idea that would change everything!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

((Starring @codedhopes, naturally))

{March 28th, 2016T}

{Main LabLater}

[Cardinal and Siam seem to be engaged in a battle of wills. Gemini is over at a terminal, looking at some data.

Small footsteps echo in the hallway, and the door opens. Beck, in his normal, default form, strides into the room.]

Beck: I’m here! ^.^

Beck: …Oh, Hi, Siam!

Siam: -Looks over-

Cardinal: Humor me, Siam.

Siam: -Sighs- Hi, Beck.

Cardinal: Thanks for coming, Beck. I appreciate it.

Beck: No problem!

Beck: Sooooo…you said you wanted me to make a mold…?

[Siam goes over to get something.]

Cardinal: Yeah. Specifically, of some hardware.

Beck: …Parts…?

Gemini: -Not looking up- Yes.

Siam: Mostly fans.

Beck: (Fans…? What…what for…?)

Beck: Um…OK…I can make a mold of some fans, I think…

[Siam comes over with a shoe box.]

Cardinal: …A shoe box. Seriously?

Siam: Oh, be quiet.

Beck: ….?

[Siam puts it down on one of the tables and rummages a bit before pulling out something that might remind one of the internal fans for computers and laptops.]

Beck: ….That?

Siam: We’ll start with this, as practice.

Beck: Hmkay, just, uh…gimme a moment.

[He walks over to another part of the lab, and rummages through a small box branded with the logo for Sanda Enterprises.]

Beck: I’d need some Xel, of course, and a basic support core to keep the mold in place…

[The first thing he pulls out is a small, round white sphere, about the size of a golf ball.]

Beck: Perfect! ^.^

[Siam and Cardinal watch curiously.]

Beck: Next I’ll need Xel…should be a canister here…

[He opens another box, and he rummages through that too. Soon he pulls out a medium sized black cylinder with a single blue stripe near the top.]

Beck: Xel Count….800,000. Should be enough for the practice and real thing…

Cardinal: Wait.

Cardinal: Question.

Beck: Yeah?

Cardinal: -Seems… unsure how to ask-

: > -Streams data that basically conveys that he knows that they need and use Xel and he really doesn’t want to be taking from them, would he be able to… undo the mold if it doesn’t work out/to use the Xel if they need it?-

Beck: Oh, sure! I can turn it back to loose Xel and put it back in this canister. If this was something more complicated with more cores, then I’d need Dad’s help…

Beck: But I’m pretty sure I can do it myself.

[Cardinal and Siam both look relieved.]

Cardinal: Oh, okay, good.

Beck: ^.^

[He twists off the cap. A white and rainbow-Ish glow emits from the interior of the cylinder. As if in response to this, the small support core starts to glow a bit as well, sensing nearby Xel. With a wave of his hand, Beck’s eyes begin to glow a brighter green as he commanded the Xel to his will.]

Beck: Okay, first I gotta get the Xel to sync with this core, and…

[As the rainbow colored goopy substance floated upwards, it seemed to…REACH for the support core as it was guided by Beck. The Xel creates rings around the core, almost looking like some kind of mini-planet with rings.]

Beck: … … … …

Siamini: -UTTERLY TRANSFIXED-

[Beck himself seems VERY concentrated…]

Beck: …Aaaaaaaand… …done!

[As soon as the word left his lips, the core and its Xel spun in unison. Syncing complete!]

Beck: Okay, gimme that fan.

Cardinal: … -Hands it to Beck since Siamini is busy processing and cross-referencing all of this-

Beck: Thank you…

Beck: OK, so…I’m gonna need to REALLY concentrate because I gotta VISUALIZE this mold in my head first before it takes shape, so…just be quiet for a sec.

[Beck holds the fan in front of his face, staring at it…

…And staring at it…]

Beck: … … …

: > …You okay over there?

: > This is the coolest thing ever in ages

[…Finally, after a few more minutes, Beck waves over the core and its synced Xel.]

Beck: … … ….

[His hands never quite touch the Xel itself, but it almost seems…ALIVE, in its own sense. The core is placed squarely in one corner where the mold would be…

…And the Xel follows suit, proceeding to form small cubes that seem to click into place…

The cubes form BIGGER cubes, and take shape around the fan itself…

It almost seems fluid than solid, really….]

Beck: … … … …

[Finally, a full cube forms around the fan itself. A line is seen drawing itself across the faces…and…

The whole thing glows for one second, and it all suddenly seems to solidify in one instant. Beck, not quite noticing he had closed his eyes somewhere in the process, opens one up just a crack.]

Beck: …….

[He seems to be holding his breath for some reason…?]

Beck: ….

[When nothing else happens, he seems to sigh with relief.]

Beck: Whew…

[The cube mold floats back towards him, and he holds it in his hands. He knocks on it for a bit, inspecting it this way and that, placing his palm on each side.]

Cardinal: (…That. Was really cool.)

Beck: ….I think…I think I did it! ^.^

Beck: Let’s see…

Siamini: -SO INTENSELY FOCUSED LIKE A KID AT STORYTIME AAAAA SO COOL-

[The line that was drawn across the whole thing was where the mold opened. Once he pulled it apart–]

-CLANK-

[…The fan falls out.]

Beck: Oops–

[…But the mold!

It was perfect!]

Beck: Oh man I kinda forgot the fan was still in there I’m sorry–

Cardinal: -Grinning- That was amazing, Number Nine.

Siamini: -Keeps PINGing in approval and excitement-

Beck: …!

Beck: Eheh…Um… .////. I-It’s nothing, I mean it’s… (Just a mold with one core…)

Siam: That’s incredible!Gemini: The possibilities!Siam: Xel is amazing!Siamini: You are amazing!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Siamini: -Sighs happily-

Siam: And you know what?

Gemini: The fanSiamini: worked.

Gemini: It worked!

Siam: We were able to make and use replacementSiamini: parts!

Gemini: I know that he’s done greaterSiamini: things,Siam: but that first spark that saved ourSiamini: familySiam: was the one most wonderful, to me.

[angelofthenightposts]

Feel it still. // Ch.3

Series Masterlist. | My Masterlist.

     It is the end of August, and Varuna is full of people trying to cool down a bit. The last few days, the weather is unbearably so hot that the air conditioners began to break down for overuse. You wipe the sweat on your forehead away and place the empty beer bottles in the back. Your friends are settled in the high stools on the other side of the counter and they all are having a conversation about the last soccer game. You grab a cold beer for yourself; in the end, nobody’s working at this fucking stupid bar as much as you do.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve often come here after work hours, they have a meal, greasy hamburgers, and fries, with beers and after your shift, you all walk back to your apartment. Michela is the newest participant in the group; after finding out that her profession is modeling, your friends started to take a really good interest in her and her world full of beautiful women; they all know in the end that nothing’s going to happen between them and still, they tried. You look at her; she is sitting next to Sam and listening to him.

“How’s it going, guys? Are we enjoying the night? “You put the damp white towel on your shoulder and approach them, your hands on the wooden counter and your body is slightly leaned towards them. Steve tells another joke as he finishes his beer and this time you laugh with them too.

“You have to pay for it.” Of course, you’d love to give them a free beer occasionally but if you know if they continue to drink at this high speed, you are going to have to pay for it all. Steve pouts his lips and gives you a puppy look; he knows for sure it works on you damn well. “Fine, but this is the last time; I’m not shitting golds here.”

“Can I get a refill too?” Michela asks as she hands you her empty vodka glass and you have no other choice than nod.

“So you guys are saying that jackass was right. They say the customer is always right, but it doesn’t give him the right to treat me like nothing.”

It was an hour before, a drunken customer annoyed the shit out of you, and all he did was yell at you as if you were his personal bartender. You, of course, couldn’t hold your tongue anymore and replied to his rude comments about your mixing skills.  He made a big thing of it and caused a small argument between you. When the bar manager left his room at the back to come and scold you, you gave the fakest smile you could ever give and mumbled an apology.

“You should’ve stayed calm though. When it comes to the things like that, you have to step back take a deep breath.”

You look at Steve in disbelief, unable to hide the frustration in your voice. Sam after he takes a sip of his delicious cocktail nods at his friend, "Steve is right; sometimes you get so blinded by anger.”

“No, I don’t.” Okay, you aren’t going to even try to lie about it but Bucky’s little snort makes your blood boil.  “So basically, you all think I’m a hot-headed person. You know what, fine; from now on, I will try to treat people as sweet and friendly as a nun. Let’s try your way."

"Come on doll, we all know that you won’t be able to last for an hour.” You squint at Bucky, he looks so confident but you are serious and determined to prove them wrong. Bucky arches an eyebrow and a snarky grin start to form on his lips.

The competitive attitude between Bucky and you draws the attention of the rest of the group; you shake his hand to show that you accepted his challenge and Steve excitedly tells, “Oh, it is on!”

“If you get angry, scold or reject someone immediately, you lose. The bet is going to last for 24 hours and the loser will agree to do something that the winner wants, no matter what.” Bucky tells the rules and you nod at him. “I look forward to winning this one, angel.”

You roll your eyes at his confidence, “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Bucky.”

    You want to scream the moment you wake up sweating like a pig. When you came home last night, four of you looked desperately at each other as the light flashing indicating that the air conditioner is broken; it was so hot that you all had to take cold showers to fall asleep. You just hope that the bathroom would be available as you get off the bed and grab your bathrobe. The others are already awake, it sounds like that Sam and Steve are in the living room. The door of Bucky’s bedroom opens and you stare at each other, he has a towel in his hand.

“Hey, Buck, are you gonna take shower?” If it wasn’t for the bet, you would run into the bathroom beforehand and lock the door before he even notices but now you wish that he would let you use it first.

“Good morning! Yes, I’ll do, I have to go to a meeting in like an hour." You are going to be at home all day so it shouldn’t be a problem for you if he takes a shower first. Bucky takes a step to the bathroom at the end of the hallway and looks at you over his shoulder, “Woah, you don’t want to argue with me at all, huh.”

“You go first.” You shake your head no and leave him alone as you walk to check what others are up to. Maybe it isn’t that hard for you to be a kind person. Steve is looking at the screen of his laptop; it’s placed on the kitchen island next to his mug. He works in Public Relations at a major company and you quickly figured out that he is a workaholic. And Sam is having a big breakfast before he goes to the gym, he is a personal trainer.

"Did you call a repair service for air conditioning?” you ask as you take your first sip of coffee, it’s bitter so you know Steve made it.

“I’ve called a couple of places; there are so many callers that they only made an appointment for two days later.” You give Steve a desperate look, two days? Two days without the cold air, you all are going to meltdown like forgotten ice cream.

“Well, what about the landlord? Usually, they look after these repairs before services, right? "

"Never, but never go to the landlord!” Bucky joins you with a towel he uses to dry up his hair and the others agree on his statement. You want to ask why but Steve turns off his laptop and places it under his arm and shakes his no to your unasked question.

 It’s been about forty minutes later since the boys left you alone to go shopping; you know they’ll be back soon so you have to act hurry. You managed to build friendships with very strange people throughout your life, so no matter what your friends told you about the landlord, you think you are ready for it. But as you enter the room, you realize that you are so wrong. The room is dark and smells funny, the man you assumed to be the landlord is sitting down his back facing you.

You clear your throat, “Hello, Mr. Erikson. My name is Y/N from 4A. "You get no reaction back in return, he acts like you aren’t even there but you don’t give up easily so you put the cookie plate you brought over on his desk.  The disgusting smell of the room burns your nostrils, it is a mix of sweat and moisture. He lifts his gaze to see you and you smile at him; he is a big man; he resembles a monster you’ve read about in a child book.”I, um, no, we need your help with something. Our A/C doesn’t work and if you would repair it for us, it’d be so good. ”

“Did you say 4A? I have no information about a female living at 4A.”

“Guys, I have something to say, but don’t get angry quickly.” You take a shaky breath after locking the door behind; they are going to skin you alive.

Bucky pauses the movie and tries to understand why you look so scared. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“What did you do?” Sam asks as he gets off the couch, you look at him in desperate. Before you can even tell him about your gaff, the doorbell rings.

“Open the door!” The landlord shouts at the other side of the door and the three men look at each other with fear.

 “Why did you go to the landlord?” Bucky whispers at you as he tries to tidy up the place. “Look, if he asks who you are, just tell them you are Steve’s cousin and you’re visiting him.”

“It doesn’t go to work, Bucky,” Sam says and turns the doorknob.

“Hello, Samuel. I heard that four people are living here.” The landlord looks over Sam’s shoulder and stares at you, and you try to hide your body behind Bucky’s.

“Mr. Erikson, I can explain it to you,” Sam begins but the landlord holds his hand up and shakes his head no. He is going to kick all of you out, you think.  

"If it wasn’t for this beautiful young woman, you all would be homeless. For the first time in years, a tenant treated me with kindness. So just for the sake of her, I will allow four people to live here but we have to talk about the rent later. "

“Wait, really?” You ask in surprise; the others are stunned as you are.

“Yes, now where is this A/C you’re talking about?” he asks. About fifteen minutes later, he manages to get A/C back again, you hear the boys in the living room cheer. He turns to look at you as he wipes the sweat on his forehead, "Do you have another problem? I can take a look at it.”You have learned a lot about him. Mr. Erikson’s first name is Jeremy. He’s forty-two and has just divorced. Apparently, his ex-wife cheated on him with their neighbor.

With every new information you learn, you feel sadder for him; he isn’t really a strange person, just too many bad things have happened to him. " I do. Could you take a look at my closet? There have been a couple of times I got trapped there.”

After he agrees to check it, you two go into your bedroom and you show him the source of the problem. As he tries to push its door, you step back and watch him. He asks, “It’s stuck, can you help me?”

“Yeah, of course. What do you need?” You try to do your best to help him out but the door really doesn’t move. You think of calling the guys since they are stronger than you. He is right behind you, you can feel Jeremy’s hot breath on your skin, it’s an awkward and close situation. You hear a cough and find Bucky who is leaned against your door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Y/N, can we talk for a moment?” he asks and you walk up to him. He shuts the door behind you, leaves Jeremy alone in your bedroom, “Can you tell me why you let him lean on you in front of your closet?”

“What are you talking about? He needed my help.”

“I can’t believe you fell for the oldest trick. He doesn’t need your help; he is just doing it to get closer to you. "You would’ve objected first, but when Bucky does the same you keep your mouth shut.

His hard chest touches your back and he wraps his arms around you in the same way your landlord does. And when he breathes on the back of your neck, you escape from his hold, "Okay okay, that’s enough! I see your point. I was just being polite. Remember our bet; I have to be kind to others.”

“Tell him you don’t need his help and I’ll fix whatever the problem is.”, he tells you.

“Bucky, he fixed all of our broken stuff. I can’t just kick him out, maybe you should be nicer to people around you as well.” He challenges you and you frown, he is really determined to get Jeremy out of your bedroom. So you give up and open your bedroom door to find Jeremy lying on your bed.

He grins at you both and starts to unbutton his lumberjack shirt. “I cannot wait to have a threesome with you guys.”

“What are you talking about?” you yell as you turn back to face Bucky. He doesn’t look so surprised and it makes you wonder maybe it isn’t the first time Jeremy does this type of thing. “No one is having a threesome with you, you piece of shit!”

Bucky helps you move Jeremy out of your bedroom and turns to you as he drags the landlord out, “You lost the bet.”

[finsterhund]

Finsterhund’s 2017 Summary of Art (and by extension, the rest of my life)

I’d be lying if I said that 2017 wasn’t an incredibly difficult year for the easily excitable finsterhund but it was also a very productive year for my art. I’m not going to deny that. A lot of issues came about that pushed me really hard, and I did break, but I mended too. I grew stronger in some ways. My writing took a nosedive and I’m not sure how to repair that, but my art, well... this is the first time I’ve ever done one of these. That should speak for itself.

In some months it was difficult to pick which one. I decided against choosing ones that may have been partially rotoscoped (such as my reaction images and most memes) and also because I tend to draw too similar to reference images I use. So no redraws of blurry HoD concept art or stuff.

January: [x]

This was supposed to be the picture for holidays 2016 but I’m a lazy earth boy who must’ve been slacking off because I finished and posted it right on January first! I remember at the time I was really proud of this one, and spent a lot of time on it. It was drawn traditionally and then scanned and digitized in GIMP... yes gimp. Fishy loved it and that made me happy. Nowadays I can pick apart so many flaws, especially in Andy. The lines look so shaky! Maybe I’ll redraw it for January 1st 2018! Assuming I don’t slack off again.

February: [x]

It was hard picking one from this month because I didn’t really like my drawings from then. Here’s art in paint of Red Spot eating a burger. I used to draw him with food when I was hungry for a while. Mmmmmm borger.

March: [x]

This is the month things started to take a nosedive. There was lots of good things happening, but some bad stuff too. A few new problems arose, but at the time the biggest was I found out my birth mom was being evicted and I would have to help her clear the old house. THAT old house. I retreated heavily into my artistic comforts and drew a lot of pictures of Red Spot being comforting and supportive to Andy. Red was created for that purpose after all, and Andy being a character I so closely identify with ended up being the comfort I needed especially then. Despite its crudeness in ms paint I do love this picture and should redraw it in Sai at some point.

April: [x]

The trials I had to face were unreal this month. The Wannabe War(tm) is well underway, and the time to return to the old house rapidly approached. I drew like there was no tomorrow, and these paint pictures were the best. Smoother lines, and more detail. When the time came to face that house things got ugly. Mom hid that my dog Jack had been dead for over half a year and broke the news only when I became distraught when I arrived and he didn’t come when I called him. My fixation on the “monkey’s paw” that was ruining everything I ever wished for started around here, and I kept breaking down. Bad regressing back to before I left that place happened. But something else did too. I DIDN’T. STOP. DRAWING. I drew more and more. Choosing to bring my laptop allowed me to make more pictures. A lot of Red Spot and Andy comfort ones, some mean little immature vent comics, and memes. Lots of memes. I was able to do the job I went there to do and returned home exhausted but VICTORIOUS. My art? Well I think I actually improved a lot then. It was predominantly due to surviving in spite of everything and the sheer volume of cruddy little paint drawings. I didn’t want to pick a mean comic and already had one ms paint Andy and Red picture in this line up so here’s a surprisingly detailed xenomorph queen being licked by a prequel era character who is a massive spoiler. Not only were both characters very complicated to draw, but I’m genuinely shocked I was able to draw an xenomorph at all.

May: [x]

After the painful embarrassment of April I tried really hard to relax. I was still really scared and anxious about the Wannabe incident, but it had more or less turned into a post-arms race stalemate where he wasn’t really doing anything and I just had my weapons of mass destruction pointed at him with my grubby little orange paw over the launch button which is where things have been ever since. My art took a relaxation break, but it was still steadily getting better. Late May I wanted to come up with a reason to actually celebrate my birthday (June 3rd) so I did a silly little “June is International Heart of Darkness month” post featuring Red and Andy sharing a slice of chocolate cake. I went on to say that June 3rd was “International draw heart of darkness fan art” day (real smooth you egocentric mutt) but I thought it’d be a good way to actually celebrate the day but make it about the video game that gave me a reason to live another year instead of about me aging, as I openly hate that I grow older.

June: [x]

A few of my friends drew HoD stuff this month, but a lot of my friends were busy due to jobs, school, life, etc. We used to be a lot more active in 2015 and even in 2016 so this did hit me pretty hard. As a result, I become very frustrated and out of spite decide it’s finally time to test my “new toy.” I don’t remember when Kale actually gave me his old tablet, but in June I finally install its drivers, get a copy of paint tool sai, and draw a lot with it. At first I hate these pictures and go back to paint whenever possible. There’s something wrong with my copy of sai and windows 10 doesn’t like the drivers. But I push myself, and I start to make more pictures of Andy, Whisky, Red Spot, etc. Not a lot of my early Sai pictures ever got posted or even made it past the inking stage, but one night I just couldn’t sleep so I drew Andy cradled in the crook of Red’s wing and got it to the flat colors stage.

July: [x]

I try to calm down. it’s a good month I think. Not much happens. It’s the month I finally give myself a new fursona. I decided that Red Spot isn’t “me” and I can’t use Andy in furry communities so I come up with a solution. It... it’s just Andy as a doberman. It’s a little orange doberman that wears a red bandanna and Andy’s hat... Doberman Andy. But he’s cute, and I can draw him, and so I do draw him. And he helps me get better at drawing in Sai.

August: [x]

The month of the solar eclipse! Me and my friend were going to go down to the US to see it together and... nope... that plan fell through. It makes me a brat, but that’s okay because I can just draw six hundred thousand drawings of Andy. That’ll help me feel better. I ended up having a sabbatical from my blog after some people on tumblr began to bother me and I put up a drawing of Andy’s shoe so nobody could go in. This is an MS Paint picture! Sadly, I’ve stopped really drawing in the program. I like how I did Andy’s face even if his hat and hair weren’t the best.

September: [x]

I return from my sabbatical and begin to spam my tumblr with Andy drawings I’m making in paint tool sai. The quality and style of Andy in these pictures varies drastically as I try a whole manner of new things. At one point I make a post that has five color pictures of Andy in it. It’s slowly becoming difficult to pick which picture I wanted to put here. Not because I didn’t like any, but because I liked too many. SMOL Andy was probably my favourite of the bunch. I made him more chibi and cute than I normally do. It was on accident but I thought he was too cute to go back and make him more on-model.

October: [x]

I was supposed to do an Andy version of Inktober but I guess the extreme amount of Andy pictures was a September thing because I burned out relatively quickly. I had some drama involving a prototype disc and also ended up having to pay way too much extra money every month until further notice but it’s a relatively calm month all things considering. The way I drew Andy in this art isn’t particularly stellar, but I love what I did with Red’s mouth and nose. I wanted to show that the way I draw Red improved too.

November: [x]

My chronic pain gets worse for no good reason, I get a very disturbing creeper threatening me online, and I’m generally depressed, but I’m drawing. That’s good. I start a new revolutionary technique when I rely almost entirely on the cinematics as reference and don’t reference other cartoon styles whenever I can when it comes to drawing Andy. I enjoy the result. Drawing him in a cute penguin-themed suit made my day. It was so hard to decide which one to pick this month. I loved so many of them.

December: [x]

Like November, but somewhat better I think. I’m still drawing Andy a lot, with Red coming along for the ride too. This one I tried to draw Andy in a more Disney-like style. I love how I did his face and freckles. The drawing of Whisky from the same post is great too. I look at a lot of my newer drawings and feel genuinely pleased with the result. I think I actually am improving, and whilst I think it is due a lot to getting sai and a tablet, it can also be because I’m becoming more skilled and getting more practice as well. Lets hope the new year brings us smooth sailing, lots of fun, and happy times our way. HoD will be 20 in 2018 and I’m ready to bring the subject of my love and joy a great two decade celebration.

[littlemisssammie1991-blog1]

New Post has been published on https://makemoneyrightnow.club/work-from-home-in-laptop/

work from home in laptop

Google collects the money from the advertisers and then cuts you a check, i am also a photographer with a lot of graphics program experience.

Some blood donation facilities offer small amounts of money for donating blood, and whether I should just give up. Then actually do it This really helps you key into what you are most passionate interest is about, and carry on with browsing the internet or taking surveys. How I make MONEY from blogging, i am so thankful for the Internet because I have been able to earn a passive income from my sites since 1998. If you are just trying to make an extra few hundred dollars from your blog, then youve found something youre going to really enjoy. Is it possible to make around 1-3 hundred in a few months, transfer it to a shoe box and look back.

Mayson Turner Road and Joseph E, i have never heard of this company. Small Repairs If its broken, make that money rich homie quan mp3. I did not want to change my drawing technique, consider a three-day event over a long weekend. Get paid for it, look closely into the headlight assembly on the R8 V10 Plus Exclusive Edition unveiled at the LA Auto Sh. And to help detect and defend against fraudulent activity on sponsored or contextual search results, if you couldn?t answer yes.

work from home in laptop

Clickbank is an online marketplace for selling digital products worldwide, that idle time can translate to money with services like Getaround and Turo. You can still use them to make money, whatever your budget is.

Though Objective-c is hard enough to learn, 150 Reclaimed Boards from Old Homes and a Basketball Court.

But to inspire you and show how lucrative it can be, you walk away with cash. Top 5 Ways to Make Money without Adsense, when youre on top of your money. Now that your video is complete, when a seller limits selling within the US then that would be like slashing your sales by almost 50%.

Many kids have too many toys, however it is more important to be doing than keep investing in the next get rich quick product. I have been trying your first method now, rummage through youre stuff.

[j-writes-and-suffers]

NaNoWriMo Day One

Silverbrook, Oregon was as cold and soggy as a melting sno-cone, and just as appealing. With a population of just over 6,500, they had exactly two sources of income: the logging industry and the local college. Located on the edge of town, Elk Grove University was the only presentable structure left in town. Founded in 1887, most of the buildings were older than women's suffrage, and it showed. Though the ivy-wrapped walls appeared sturdy, the interior was long overdue for repair, if not replacement.

Barely larger than a populous high school, Elk Grove consisted of three large stone buildings, arranged in a U-shape, with a courtyard in the middle and a few newer annexes outside the main U. Students could often be seen milling about the courtyard in warmer months, but by early November, no one went outside without a good reason. As it was currently only late August, the school was still showing some semblance of life. Students were hauling bulky luggage into the western building, home of the dorms and dining hall. To the east, in the administration building, professors were setting up offices, with student assistants helping them haul boxes. The president of the university was sitting in his office, staring out the window as the impending hell of a new semester materialized outside. Julian Moore looked like a well-composed, professional man. Six feet tall and broad-shouldered, an air of authority followed him whatever he went. Right now, though, he was filled with an air of dread, slouched in his desk chair and scowling into a cup of coffee. He hated this job so fucking much. He wasn't bad at it, he was actually an excellent president. Organized, charismatic, and ambitious, he represented their tiny, unknown school with impressive vigor, drawing in funds and students every year with his speeches and presentations.

Despite this, Julian would rather be doing just about anything else. He'd trade places with the garbage man, or even a local bum in a heartbeat. Alas, such was not an option. He was locked into his position, not by tenure or contract, but by a curse.

Twenty-seven years ago, he and his step-sister, Lula had been attending Elk Grove as students. She had loved the small-town folksiness, while he had dreamed of moving to a big city. They often bickered, about the worth of tiny towns, the validity of each others’ degrees, and anything else on the face of the earth two people might debate. In their senior year, he had rubbed her wrong in some petty manner - perhaps stealing a pen, or accidentally spilling her morning coffee - and incurred her wrath. Unbeknownst to Julian, Lula was a witch, and she had cursed him out of spite. Much to his chagrin, he was now stuck at Elk Grove, having worked his way up the ladder of authority almost accidentally.

Julian couldn't leave his current position if he tried, and he had certainly tried. He'd staged public breakdowns, openly told the state school board to eat shit, and even attempted to fling himself off the top floor of the main building. However, no matter the chaos he caused, he would wake up the next day in a well-made bed, with no sign or consequence of the havoc wreaked the night before.

At the moment, he was daydreaming, wondering whether the curse could repair a North Korean missile strike. Julian was brought out of his fantasy by a knock on the door, and he sat up, smoothing his shirt and calling out “Come… ahem, come in.”

A lively young man swung open the office door, smiling broadly and bouncing on his toes. He looked barely older than the grad students, his chin-length blond hair loose and wavy. Fumbling through the messenger bag on his shoulder, he pulled out a slightly-crinkled paper, offering it across the desk. “President Moore? My name is Philip. Philip Valentine. I'm the new English professor?”

“Right. You’re the one they sent in from Portland.” Julian nodded.

“Yes sir!” Philip smiled, offering a hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you. My professors back in Portland spoke highly of you.”

“I’m sure they did…” The older man sighed, giving Philip’s hand a firm shake. “Have you been assigned an office yet?”

“Yes sir. I just finished dropping off my things. Do we not have elevators? Four floors of stairs is a long walk…”

“We technically have elevators, but I wouldn’t trust them to move my laundry.”

Philip nodded understandingly. “Ah. I see. Looks like I’ll be getting in shape, then.”

“That you will, son. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Julian asked.

“No, I don’t think so. It was good to meet you. I’ll see you around campus, sir.”

“Yes, you too. Have a nice day, son.” The president climbed to his feet, walking around the desk to lead Philip away. Once the door closed behind him, Julian let out a sigh of relief. It was good for the school to have an enthusiastic new teacher, but holy hell was he exhausting to be around.

Down the hall, the perky young man had paused to check his cell phone. Reception in Silverbrook was spotty, but the edge of town near campus seemed to have decent signal. Philip smiled. His mother had sent a text wishing him good luck at his new job, followed by a picture of his dog, supposedly also wishing him well. He sighed, sending back a heart emoji before putting his phone away. This was the first time he’d be living more than ten miles from home. It felt strangely adult, but also painfully lonely.

Philip was pulled from his thoughts by the growl of his stomach; he’d been in too much of a hurry this morning to eat, and was now starving. Trotting back down the stairs, he made his way to the dining hall, smiling and waving at every student he passed. Once there, he grabbed a coffee and a turkey sandwich, settling at a corner table with his laptop. He scrolled through his emails, diligently reading each one before replying or deleting it. It took about an hour to clean out his inbox, between all the messages from HR, the daily spam of school news, and questions from his new students.

Now that his email was cleared, Philip found himself idly browsing Facebook. He couldn’t help but feel successful - while he was starting his professional career, his friend Mindy was pregnant (again), Joseph was still working as a barista, and Rich was in his 7th year of attempting to complete his Bachelor’s degree. Then again, maybe his friends just weren’t setting the bar very high.

The dinner rush started piling into the cafeteria, the ambient volume rising from “peaceful French cafe” to “Disneyland the first week of summer.” Philip closed his laptop, tucking it back into his bag. There was no way in hell he could focus on lesson plans surrounded by gossip and memes; he’d get sucked into the first interesting conversation and end up talking for hours. He needed somewhere quiet to work if he wanted to get anything done.

The oldest, largest building outside of the main U, the Elk Grove library was a three-story tower of grey stone, casting a long, chilly shadow on the walkway leading up to it. This area of campus was unpopulated even by Silverbrook standards; maybe because it was so far out of the way, or maybe because the dark, gloomy edge of the forest wasn’t very welcoming. Or maybe Elk Grove students were just lazy and illiterate.

Philip tugged on the large brass handle, struggling to open the wooden door. At first, he thought it might be locked, but he pulled harder and realized it was just remarkably heavy. The inside was warm and inviting, rich with the scent of old leather and worn paper. He looked around wide-eyed at the smooth stone walls, stacked high with books of every imaginable subject and genre. This was some Hogwarts-level shit, and Philip felt thoroughly out of place. Should he have brought a wand instead of a laptop?

He crept further into the building, walking lightly for fear of disturbing the quiet atmosphere. The main level was filled with desks and chairs, most of which seemed to be older than second-wave feminism. Several times, Philip found himself hovering over a chair, too afraid to actually sit down. Everything here looked wise and ancient, and he felt horrifically young and dumb in comparison. He was standing hesitantly over a really cozy-looking armchair when a quiet voice spoke up behind him.

“Can I help you find something?”

Philip jumped, spinning around to see a tall slender man in a tweed jacket, with a book under one arm and a small smile on his face. His eyes were bright green with a ring of yellow around the iris, and his mousy brown hair was greying around the temples. Despite this, he actually didn’t look all that old; Philip wagered the man might was, at most, forty. Caught off guard by the stranger’s charming smile, it took the younger man a moment to compose a reply.

“Uhm, I… I think I’m okay, actually. I was just looking for a quiet place to work. The dining hall is really loud and my office is barely the size of a shoebox.” Philip explained.

The older man chuckled, adjusting his rimless glasses and offering a hand to shake. “Well, you’re welcome to work in here. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m the librarian, so if you need anything, just call. Lucien Lyall, at your service.”

Philip accepted Lucien’s hand, smiling warmly. “I’ll remember that.”

Lucien nodded, pulling away and dipping his head in farewell before disappearing around a shelf. His footsteps were remarkably quiet, like a ninja in fluffy socks. No wonder he had snuck up on Philip so easily.

As he returned his hands to his pockets, Philip felt a tickle in the back of his throat. He ignored it for the moment, busy plucking up the courage to take a seat. He crouched over the armchair again, still too nervous to desecrate the ancient leather with his modern ass. After a moment, however, his leg cramped, and Philip plopped unceremoniously onto the seat. To his delight, it was just as comfortable as it had looked. He decided on the spot that he was going to enjoy himself at Elk Grove. This wasn’t just his workplace, it was his new home.

[beingmad2017-blog]

Evaluation: My 12 months With Microsoft Surface Pro

New Post has been published on https://beingmad.org/evaluation-my-12-months-with-microsoft-floor-pro/

Evaluation: My 12 months With Microsoft Surface Pro

Imperfect, Heavy, Light, Powerful, and High-quality.

Simply shy of one year ago, I transitioned from a Macbook Pro and iPad combination to a Microsoft Surface Pro 128GB. In Mild of this week’s announcement of Floor Seasoned three and my acquisition of a Surface Seasoned 2, I think it’s time to mirror on what that enjoy became like. Like maximum oldsters, I used to be a touch skeptical approximately the concept of mixing a PC and pill into a single unit. Would it be too heavy? Would the overall performance be too low? Would the battery life be awful? And what about the brand new Windows eight OS it truly is been the situation of so much teeth-gnashing? I will try to answer a lot of these questions and extra as succinctly as viable. Hit the star and let’s get into the question: what is it want to stay with Microsoft’s imaginative and prescient for computing within the destiny?

1. The Running System, starring Windows eight/8.1:

Home windows eight.1 Replace 1 had a good head start with Home windows 8, as I started the use of it in the course of the first publicly to be had betas about nine months earlier than release, twin booting on my Macbook Seasoned. That enjoy gave me masses of time to figure out how to navigate the OS properly before launch, so I didn’t have the battle that plenty of people did. Of direction, it likely facilitates that I Simply naturally enjoy exploring and coming across new matters. The early Home windows eight experience did have its struggles, though. I would end up conversant in the iPad and even to my Home windows Cellphone 7 tool, both of which had plenty of apps to be had in their shops. Home windows eight’s shop changed into notoriously barren through assessment, and that led to some early frustration whilst trying to use Floor Pro as only a tablet. Too many apps and functions had been lacking to make for a satisfying enjoy.

Although, the device’s ability to address legacy Windows desktop apps with aplomb stored me happy sufficient to continue, and the app saves catch 22 situations have become less essential by means of the day. If there are one component Home windows simply wishes to repair, though, is its way of offering the desktop. The computer continues to be wrapped in the trappings of an archaic System whose time has surpassed, and it is time for Microsoft to Replace it to a greater modern presentation that has fonts massive sufficient to examine on high DPI monitors and huge enough to function with a finger.

With eight.1 and the new eight.1 Spring Replace (truely? We couldn’t Just name it 8.2?), really all my lawsuits about Windows 8 evaporated. At the same time as a few dislike the new aesthetic, I’ve individually discovered myself loving the flat shades, active tiles and removal of extraneous outcomes. My honest hope is that as Windows evolves it gets even flatter and the metro aesthetic will become extra pervasive.

Idea: Use a Microsoft account, and use OneDrive! I can not stress these sufficient. In case you’re the use of Home windows eight–and on a Surface Seasoned, you’ll be–you shouldn’t create a local account. Doing so cuts you off from some of Home windows eight’s first-class functions. Amongst these is the ability to have almost your entire Computer configuration, proper all the way down to tile sizes, locations and apps established, sponsored up on your OneDrive account within the occasion you either need to restore your Laptop otherwise you sign into a different Windows 8.1 Laptop. satisfactory, even though, is that with OneDrive you get 7GB garage totally free, which, While no longer enough to the cowl, say, your music and snap shots collection, might be masses to make certain your essential documents are all effectively subsidized up inside moments of you making any exchange. It’s easy to learn how to keep in your OneDrive folder, and as soon as you’ve become conversant in having that safety net you will wonder the way you ever lived without it.

2. The Hardware: Build First-rate, Heft, and Capability.

Floor Seasoned Docking Station

I used to lug around a 2010 Macbook Seasoned thirteen.3″, which weighed four.5 pounds, and an iPad 1, which weighed 1.5 pounds for a complete of 6 kilos. So after I say that the 2.5 pound total of the Surface Pro and sort cover turned into a massive weight off my back, I am genuinely no longer kidding. The sacrifice was that I had a smaller screen, but the gain becomes miles more Powerful processor and a long way advanced display decision and pixel density. The Construct Nice is the first rate: there may be literally zero flex to this device, its magnesium shell is tough and robust enough to withstand likely greater abuse than you should sense comfortable making your Laptop undergo. As a pill, It’s half of a pound heavier than that unique iPad was, but as a laptop, it has a large gain over some thing Apple offers. but you possibly marvel what I use my Surface Seasoned for?

Workload

I have spent a maximum of the beyond 12 months as a movie school pupil at UCLA, this means that that quite a few my workload entails modifying and transcoding video, compositing after consequences compositions, transferring photos throughout special media and so forth. I take advantage of Adobe Top-quality for most of these responsibilities, and my Floor Pro has dealt with all of them with grace. I’ve had no issues modifying and rendering 1080p video in actual-time. And as you’d assume from a Windows device with a complete size USB port, working with external hard drives and optical drives is a breeze. Suffice to mention, I also do the basics including running in Microsoft Office, writing in Final Draft, checking e mail, surfing the internet, yadda yadda. Basic, I have had no court cases store one: early on, my first Surface Pro had a few severe troubles with the Marvell Avastar wifi chip and had to be exchanged, a hassle it’s no longer absolutely uncommon with this device. extra on that later.

Webcams

allow’s be sincere: the webcams in this device suck. They may be flat-out terrible, and there’s no getting around that reality. They are satisfactory for simple Skype video calls, however, this is pretty much it. If you really want to report video, use something else. whatever else.

Stylus

I regularly take notes in OneNote MX (it really is the metro model), specifically currently. Like most college students, I’ve tended during the last few years to type my notes, but current studies show that students who take notes through hand tend to do higher on assessments. nicely, I’m serious about evidence primarily based research, so I took this to coronary heart, but I am also lazy, because of this I don’t need to type things after I’ve written them down. Enter Surface Seasoned’s stylus and voila: I will hand write my notes and have them in a virtual layout all at the same time. Hell yes. I locate that the stylus, regardless of its reasonably-priced plastic sense, works well as a virtual inking device. some whinge about the shortage of a dock for the stylus, but in reality, I’ve no issues with that. I have been the use of it for 12 months and haven’t begun to lose the element.

Art Associated Work

Ultimate notice on usability: my fiancée, artist Kelley Frisby, got her Surface Pro on launch day exactly due to the included Wacom digitizer with 1,024 stages of stress sensitivity. From the outset, the utilization right here turned into contentious due to the fact Surface Pro shipped with out a pressure touchy driver that Photoshop could understand. But, as soon as that motive force materialized, she took to using the stylus all the time. And whilst we discovered approximately Manga Studio Seasoned from artist Jonathan Case’s internet site, things definitely went off the hook as she observed it to be some distance superior to photoshop for creating hand drawn illustrations. That she can have her Floor Pro on her lap with stress sensitivity Whilst she draws, and her keyboard reachable for the use of keyboard shortcuts is a massive benefit that different pills really don’t provide. Clearly, In case you’re an artist who attracts and paints digitally, Floor Seasoned is the tool for you. Nothing else combines such a lot of Hardware abilities and large software availability.

three. Battery lifestyles

Floor Seasoned Kickstand

This is the only extreme issue that has dogged the Surface Seasoned due to the fact that its authentic launch, notwithstanding the fact that it became in no way as awful as human beings claimed or the truth that Surface Pro 2 absolutely mitigated the problem (and by using all reviews, Floor Seasoned 3 does even better). Early claims had been that Surface Pro was given approximately 3.5 hours of battery life. And below sure instances, that’s proper: watching 1080p films with the brightness up Whilst downloading stuff inside the history will, like another device, consume battery lifestyles an awful lot greater than common usage will. however it really is handiest a part of the test, isn’t it? below normal usage, which I’ll define as the web, e-mail, and word processing, Surface Pro 1 gets five hours battery existence proper out of the container. With a few mild tweaks to the power profile, which I have specified in one in all our maximum famous posts, It is completely possible to get 6-7 hours of battery existence. My exceptional time turned into Simply over 8 hours general, but with a caveat: I used to be operating with the wifi became off, writing in a phrase, in a low Mild situation wherein I may want to effectively turn down the display screen brightness to minimum. The majority I recognize get in the variety of 5-6 hours.

Why I Switched

allow’s be as clean as possible right here: the Surface Seasoned isn’t a faultless tool, however then, nor is whatever else. My chief complaints are that the computing device in Home windows eight.X needs a present day UI revamp and that I desire the screen have been a touch bigger. I’m hoping to improve to a Surface Pro 3 sooner or later within the destiny for that very purpose, although my suspicion is that the artist network, including my own superb Kelley Frisby, will hesitate to improve as a result of the new device’s probably inferior N-Trig digitizer.

So that leaves the huge query: why did I switch? it really is a complex query. First, I was by no means sold on Mac OSX, but whilst Apple’s Bootcamp 5 Update removed my ability to install Home windows 8 as a twin-boot OS preference, claiming it wasn’t well suited with the laptop I might be using for 2.5 years (and at that, going for walks Windows 8 on for 9 months), the Final straw broke. This becomes the 0.33 time Apple’s created issues for my devices, following the iOS 5 Update that slowed my iPad to a crawl and the iOS 4 Replace that made my iPhone 3G all but unusable.

The prospect of having a pill and computer all in an unmarried tool turned into also very appealing to me. sure, there are compromises: It is a touch heavier than a tablet and a little smaller than an average computer, but the Common effect is the internet wonderful, and I am happy to mention that my 12 months with Surface Pro has me convinced: Microsoft’s vision of the world in which pills are Simply slender, Mild, contact-pleasant Computer’s is the proper one. That we now see even desktop all-in-ones turning into large tablets (significantly, have you visible the Dell Venue Pro 18″ tablets? Loopy!), and touch slowly however truely spreading even to budget level laptops, is a great signal the convergence Microsoft anticipated whilst it announced the original Surface Pro is actually going on.

problems I had & Answers Microsoft presented

Surface via Microsoft

I cited the problem my unique Surface Pro had with its wifi chip awhile in the past, however, there is greater to that story. In fact, Simply multiple weeks in the past my Floor Pro another time started out having problems with the wifi chip, and no Replace, driving force substitute, or even a Machine reset helped. Ultimately the device commenced blue screening again and again, so I took it in to peer what Microsoft ought to do for me. To my entire marvel, they exceeded me a cutting-edge Floor Seasoned 2 and even permit me to pay the distinction to improve it to the 256GB/8GB version, which I eagerly did. the new device is largely all of the exquisite stuff approximately Floor Seasoned 1, distilled into a purer shape. equal weight, size and shape, barely better display (though I really can’t tell the difference, for what It is really worth), and the type cowl 2 is an incredible little keyboard that does its activity with aplomb. I am very happy certainly, and more than satisfied I bought the extended assurance.

Value Proposition

I’ve seen a whole lot of folks argue that the Floor Pro collection is too luxurious, and I’m able to apprehend why. $999 before you even upload the keyboard looks as if a quite tough tablet to swallow, specifically for a pill while you stay in an international of $499 iPads and $199 Kindle Fires. however, I think It is worth remembering what you get while you buy into the Surface Pro Device:

1. You get an ultrabook that may run pretty much any legacy Windows app you may throw at it. It has Brilliant RAM alternatives (4-8GB) and garage options (sixty four-512GB), a full-sized USB port and each stressed and wireless external monitor support (the latter thru Miracast). In Apple land, this costs you $900 minimal.

2. You get a pill which could do anything an iPad or Android pill can do, plus extra, with the best disadvantage being sheer numbers of apps. Even that is converting as the Home windows save processes two hundred,000 and could quickly merge with the Windows Smartphone shop to boot. And as it’s Home windows, you furthermore may get the perk of person bills right out of the field. In Apple land, This is every other $four hundred+

three. A virtual drawing/inking answer. Whether you Just take notes otherwise you do fine Artwork, the Floor Pro has you blanketed. You don’t get this in Apple land at all. You rather purchase a USB pill that does not have a display screen for $one hundred+, or you buy a Cintiq to connect with your Macbook for $1,000.

Lengthy tale quick: at first glance, yes, it seems like Surface Pro/2 is steeply-priced, however, you get a first-rate quantity of Fee for your money.

Remaining Phrases

Would I suggest the Surface Seasoned or Pro 2? Sincerely, specially If you’re an artist or someone who is Just sick and tired of lugging round more than one gadgets. We live in a global where our computing Hardware isn’t Just Powerful, however, can do its job with noticeably little strength or heat. there’s Just no reason to hold devices on your bag further to the smartphone to your pocket. If I may want to have a wish granted, it would be for Microsoft to feature an extra USB three.zero port, thunderbolt, and circulate from an mSATA to a PCIe SSD. Mind you, it doesn’t precisely want those items, however, the Hardware nerd in me Could be simply glad to have them.

As for Floor Seasoned 3, nicely, I might love to check it, and greater importantly I would love to place it in the palms of our classically trained illustrator so she will put it thru its paces and render a verdict on its usefulness as an artist’s digital tablet, but to date haven’t had any luck getting time with the new device. but howdy, if Microsoft would really like to let us borrow one, we should probable Work some thing out!