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7 hrs ago
Current Glory to the CCP!
5 likes
15 days ago
spiced rum and lemon sweet tea is such an unassuming combo. i've had two 12oz drinks and it is kicking my white ass
2 mos ago
A piece of pumpkin pie costs $2.00 in Jamaica, $2.45 in Barbados, and $3.00 in Puerto Rico. These are the pie rates of the Caribbean.
5 likes
2 mos ago
Check my new bio out for a special message!
6 likes
2 mos ago
*Hits poohead* I didn't have a problem but it's nice that the door is open :)
1 like

Bio

Most Recent Posts

"I'm so flattered you think so highly of me, Lantea," Sivus remarked, giving the asari both a nod and a smirk of appreciation. "But you're absolutely right. Infiltration is something of a skill of mine. Something to keep in mind!" That was for the others riding in the shuttle. If there were two things Sivus could be counted, they were his abilities with infiltration operations and lacking humility.

And a third was being reminded that the last time he was part of a team that he lost his entire unit, but he tries not to think about those dark days on Omega. Happier days with what was hopefully better information provided to them.

When the shuttle arrived, Sivus had secured his guns on his back and made sure all systems were at peak operation level before he stepped out. Walking with the rest of the team into the parking lot, while everyone might've been focused on Jorge meeting with some Asari, Sivus was looking elsewhere. With one ear, of course, he would at least hear what he needed to from the others, but he was closely observing the layout of the parking lot. Not counting where they came in from, he wanted to note every inch of the place as far as his eyes could see.

After that was done and they made their way to the villa, Sivus had a thought in the back of his mind that might've been vocalized had the mission taken priority and the team began discussing how to go about it. Sivus remained silent during this particular discourse. It was only when it came to the matters of mechs that he felt the need to offer his own two cents.

"We don't want to be seen or noticed, right? Then I think the most logical course would be to disable those mechs first. Ideally, we don't want those bastards making our job a bigger pain than it's looking like it is." Sivus let out a sigh, letting his gaze do a clockwise scan of the group. "Seems Key here has the right idea about scouting ahead. It's what I would suggest, anyway." He glanced at Lantea, "I mean you did say I was the expert here, did you not?" He smirked at her with a chuckle.
Welcome back!
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A @metanoia & @LovelyComplex Collaboration || Featuring Marco Brady, Kylee Grimm, Danny Belmonte & special appearance by Rhett Cleary

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For the longest time, Marco -- and the rest of his family on both sides -- have always been avid fans of sports of all kinds. It didn’t matter if it was baseball, American football, real football, cricket, gymnastic, professional wrestling, if it could be perceived as a sport and it brought out that competitive nature in both player and fan, the odds of the Castillo and Brady clans gathering around the flat screen to cheer and boo and yell and groan were high.

And even though he was the only Castillo-Brady at the Pinehurst-Edenridge game, this couldn’t be any truer than the sounds of Marco standing up, cheering for the Celtics after they took an incredible lead of sixty points. Francis Callahan was amazing and an amazing shot, but he wouldn’t be the one MArco kept his eyes on.

For nearly the entirety of the game (at least when he wasn’t entertaining some people near him who wanted to chat during breaks), Marco found himself feeling the team spirit - or as Robin from Young justice would say, feeling the aster.

(Feeling the aster is good.)

And feel it he did. That euphoric feeling Marco felt crawl up his spine and the blood rushing to his head when he stood up as his arms went up high every time he saw #27 Belmonte scored either via assist or managed to get the shot himself. And every time that happened, when it was done, Marco felt his entire body go hot like a spark under his ass went off every time that he saw Danny Belmonte look his way. He knew he wasn’t actually looking at him, but for a moment, their eyes did meet. And maybe it was the high Marco felt himself under the influence of, but he waved.

It had been at that moment that he smiled and it was also at that moment that he realized that while Danny Belmonte had caught his eye, Marco’s waving managed to catch the attention of one of the Pinehurst Cheerleaders.

When the game came to a close and Marco panicked his way into trying to figure out how he was going to escape before, well a certain strawberry blonde cheerleader found him, it was too late. The girl who he would later find out was a Sophomore at Pinehurst named Theresa O’Connor, had practically invited him to a party that most of her squad were going. Marco didn’t know how to handle it. He didn’t want to be rude, either, so he sort of just went along with it.

And Tessa, which was what she told him to call her, was cute. So, in the back of his mind he was flattered that she liked him but, as Marco sat on the couch at this party at a southside house and TEssa was somewhere, likely being pulled away from him by her squad, Marco just sat there in a daze. He thought about how this happened. And thinking about that led Marco spending several minutes looking over at a group of jocks.

Danny was with them.

And he was being tipped upside down.

“7!” The boys surrounding Danny loudly roared.

In all that was holy, Danny’s shirt flew over his face and Marco saw what could only be described as something that would bless his dreams for the entire week that followed. He wasn’t toned like the rest of them, but Danny was the only one that caught Marco Brady’s gawking gaze and the only reason why Marco’s entire face went hot and red like a roasted tomato.

“8!”

“Keep calm, keep calm.” Marco repeated to himself, speaking as low as he could. Thankfully the music playing didn’t make it too obvious that he was gazing at Danny as if Marco even stood a chance. He wasn’t out and he didn’t even know if Danny swung that way. So it was hardly something that Marco should be doing, yet he couldn’t help it.

“9!”

Okay, Danny. Man up or go home.

Having used his arm and body strength, Danny found himself doing a handstand on the keg stand, with two of his teammates holding him up and another one of his teammates releasing the valve, letting the beer stream into the freshman’s mouth. This would be the second time Danny’s tried this within his first semester of high school and boy, he needed to beat his last record because any respectable man would get to at least thirty.

“10!”

Then again, his peers knew he was the youngest and thankfully, most didn’t pressure him to go beyond what he could handle. He didn’t drink as much as his twin, even at home. Still, Danny was stubborn and had no idea what his limits were! Plus, he wanted to be cool and show off. If not for himself, perhaps to get Francis’ attention… wherever he was. Last party, he could only do 10 seconds before choking. The team had a good laugh and taught him a few techniques after. Let’s see if he can put them in good use and get to twenty.

“11!”

With a red cup in her hand, Kylee Grimm shimmied to the EDM music, moving through the crowd. From a distance she saw her history nextdoor desk neighbor sitting on a couch and staring at… oh, the big doof in her spanish class. Danilo Belmonte. Probably on a high from the big win tonight. Sure, Francis Callaghan carried the team, like he usually did, but honestly, Danny kept up with his seniors, which impressed her, even scoring more than most of them. She was sure it impressed others too, like it clearly impressed Marco Castillo-Brady.

“12!”

Conveniently, the spot next to Marco opened and she slid herself on the chair right into him, playfully and mischievously bumping into his side, “You like what you see!” The mayor’s daughter loudly spoke over the music. While that should’ve been a question, it wasn’t because when Marco turned his attention to her, her dark gaze fell to his pants which revealed how interested he was in the italian basketball player. “I get it. Give him another year or so and he’s gonna be HOT, HOT, HOT! You should talk to him!”

“13!”

“What?”

Marco’s body jerked itself in a startled fashion when he heard a girl’s voice. Turning around, he saw it was Kylee Grimm. He had her in social studies. He couldn’t say that they were exceptionally close, but he has talked to her a few times and they even had a small project at the start of the semester, so Marco was almost used to her, but he was in such a daze watching Danny excelling at...whatever he was excelling at that he wasn’t ready for her.

Against his better judgement, Marco partially turned away from Danny. “Oh, hey Kylee,” he said after a few seconds of gathering himself. “I don’t think that will be a good idea,” he admitted, half-frowning at the girl. “Besides, I’m..fine right where I am.”

“Are you?” While her hazel eyes scrutinized, Kylee watched Marco in pity. Taking a sip of her drink, her gaze went from him to the basketball team. Their counting and drunk roaring turned into background noise as she continued to visually explore the party. For a moment, her dark gaze rested on the big wrestler senior, Rhett, overseeing the drinking game in silence. He was a dreamboat and so nice to look at. And yet, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little intimidated by him.

Shaking the hopeful thoughts out of her head, she continued examining the area and finding anything that intrigued her. Turning her head to the makeshift dance floor, she saw a boy she had a music elective with, Pierce Mercer. He glanced over at her, through the hustle and bustle of the party, and she returned his stare with a smile.

He was cute, she liked cute.

Bringing her attention back to her couch buddy, she dramatically sighed, annoyed at how lackluster he was acting at the party of the year. “Want some advice from me, Marc?” That was a rhetorical question. “I’ve lived here for like a little over three years and meeting people is a hardcore bitch. I’m still considered an outsider even if my dad was born and raised here. But that’s beside the point!” This girl was loquacious to say the least, but she meant well. “One thing I decided the moment my dad was like pack your bags, we’re leaving Boston, was: I’m not going to be a bystander. Especially not at an Allison Davies’ party. Neither should you!”

As meddlesome as Kylee can be, she still cared about people in her own fucked up kind of way. She simply was using the tools her parents gave her to figure shit out as she went. She was persistent and demanding but she was also incredibly lonely. Thankfully, shortly after her move, she met Roddy and that helped her maneuver through adolescence. “You want to know something? Do your own research. You want that something? Go get it. You clearly seem interested in Danny boy. Stop sitting there with that hard on and think about carpe diem or some shit! What’s the worst that can happen?”

Marco’s embarrassment took central stage when he had a slight shade of red on his pale cheeks. So much so that he shifted his position on the couch somewhat to cross his legs in a way that hid what Kylee just pointed out. “What makes you think I’m even interested in him?” Marco asked. He wasn’t out and, while he didn’t peg Kylee as the homophobic type, he didn’t want to risk anything. “Maybe I’m just aroused by the--”

He looked around in a panic as if trying to find something very close to where Danny was that could explain it.

“--the keg. I mean it’s very…”

Dang it, Marco was looking at Danny again.

“...Sturdy.”

“Mmm, yeah. Sturdy.” Playfully, Kylee rolled her eyes and decided for Marco’s sake to use the keg as an analogy. “Just look how it shines. Such a nice looking keg. Why wouldn’t you be interested? I wonder if that beer has been imported. From Italy or something. Such fine beer.” Her smile went into a wide grin, now completely curious about Marco's reaction. “Don’t you just want to suck the tap yourself.”

“I-”

Marco’s cheeks went from strawberry to full on cherry red and he stumbled on whatever words he was going to say. He shook his head in an attempt to gather himself, trying to completely rid himself of the mental image that Kylee seemed to imply. It wasn’t the implication itself that made his embarrassment meter crack but just the fact she was pushing for something that he wasn’t even sure he was ready for. Marco was never great at approaching anyone that, for a lack of better words, interested him. Whether that was a girl or otherwise, he was always hesitant because he’d get lost in his own head before he’d ever consider a scenario that they wouldn’t immediately recoil from him making a move.

It’s why he was content in just looking at Danny do jock things from a distance and it’s why he felt especially awkward and tense as Kylee pushed and pushed.

With a sigh, he let a few moments of silence pass before he had to force his gaze away from Danny. “I’ve got no interest in doing that.” Part of that was the truth but only because Marco didn’t even know what he felt whenever he kept looking back at Danny. Jesus, how many times did that make it now? Five since Kylee started talking to him?

Garret “Rhett” Cleary, Caitlin Cleary’s older brother, and good friends with Francis Callaghan was quick to interject when he could tell that the freshman boy was exceeding his limits. When they reached 17 count, he grabbed ahold of the smaller kid, pulling the tap away from his lips. Danny started coughing profusely as he hung on Cece's brother’s shoulder. He didn’t even remember becoming upright. Everything happened so fast but the next thing he knew, Rhett was giving the basketball team a lecture about pressuring children.

Everything was dizzy and he was trying to register how far he went in the drinking game, if he made it to 20, but the next thing he knew Rhett had handed him a glass of water and told him to eat some bread. “Wait, Rhett, where’s Cece?” He hadn’t seen his best friend all day… which was weird now that he was thinking about it.

“Caught a ride with some friends.” Rhett firmly responded, visibly exhausted with all the babysitting he was doing for one night. The older boy said a couple of other things but Danny was too busy staring at Rhett’s wrestler muscles to really listen.

Did he pick me up?

Reality was feeling like a dream, maybe he did drink too much.

“Okay, okay! Sorry I overstepped but like, you could at least talk to him. To get to know him. I don’t understand the stigma of cliques. This town is small, so I feel like…” Her voice trailed off when she noticed the devil himself was making his way to them. Sure, he didn’t look like he was walking straight, but he was beaming, his smile reaching from ear to ear, and had an energetic bounce to his step. Completely caught off guard, Kylee muttered, “Uh…”

“Is this seat taken!?” The young jock slurred. Kylee looked between her and Marco, sitting on a loveseat. There was no extra seat, unless he meant the armrests. Or did he want? Seeing him staring at her, Kylee tilted her head, thinking she got the memo.

Oh, okay.

“I was… just getting up.” Turning to Marco, Kylee showed her teeth in excitement but also confusion. She wasn’t going to ruin this moment for him, so all she did was give him a thumbs up for good luck and got off the seat, going to her next objective: Pierce.

“Perfect. Awesome.” Danny slumped beside Marco and stared at the ceiling, watching the world spin. “Do you know why people like drinking so much? It’s so weird. It makes the world go round, and round, and round.”

thathumpthathumpthathump

Marco’s heartbeat was going especially fast. Hell, it became alarmed when Danny had spoke and caught Marco by surprise, but when Kylee excused herself and Danny took her spot (albeit plopping rather than sitting down) and all he could think about was how close Danny Belmonte was to him. The person Marco had spent most of the night watching was next to him and talking about drinking and what it was like.

“Y-yeah.” He didn’t know what to say in all honesty. He never got drunk, or at least in the way that Danny apparently was. And this was, like, the first impression that Danny was going to have of him. He had to do better than just a stuttering “yeah”. “Great job today!” Marco said with a wide smile. “At the game, I mean! You did great!” Oh, god he sounded like such a kissass right now.

“Francis was greater! You saw how many shots he made?!” With basketball being mentioned, Danny perked up and turned to the boy beside him. He looked familiar… like they had a class together or something. Or maybe he saw him in his sister’s shop? Regardless. Basketball! “I wanted to DUNK but Jillian said there’s other cool things I could do and that I still got a few more inches to grow. UGH! I want to dunk so badly.”

He blinked a few times at Danny. Out of all the scenarios that Marco entertained in some of his more far-fetched scenarios that might happen if he ever had the stones to talk to Danny, him just going on about basketball and Marco just sitting there listening wasn’t even close to the top ten. And Jillian? Was he talking about Jillian O’Brien? Had to be. Or maybe he wasn’t. Marco didn’t trust his brain right now. “You’ll get there, I’m sure of it!” Marco found himself cheering for some reason.

“I hope so.” Danny leaned back into the sofa and slumped even more than he had already, sliding down the chair a bit. Like a toddler, he grumbled, “I’m sad!”

“Why are you sad?” Marco asked, watching Danny slide down in disbelief.

With his ass on the floor now, he laid his head back on the chair and looked up at Marco, grumbling, “I saw something.” He saw Francis kissing Russ, who was not Allison. “It made me feel… funny.” He didn’t know why nor did he understand but he felt funny. Honestly, while she didn’t deserve it, Danny didn’t like Allison and at times wished she’d disappear. She had Francis and she was perfect in every single way. All his girlfriends, like Jillian and Cece, adored her.

Still, at this moment, he found himself hating Russ even more than her and he didn’t understand why. Not only did his image of Francis become less perfect, because he was cheating on his girlfriend, but he felt a tint of jealousy which didn’t make sense at all. Why was he jealous? “I don’t understand people.” Or he didn’t understand himself.

As Marco looked at Danny, he did so in a different way than he had all night. His gaze didn’t have any lust or anything of the like behind it, because Danny was acting differently too. The tone of his voice was different too. It was low and almost melancholy. He wanted so badly to comfort Danny in some way, but there was no way for Marco to know how a gesture like that might be interpreted. He couldn’t handle any possible rejection, so he had to think of another way to maybe cheer Danny up.

But what?

After a few moments of thinking, Marco had a lightbulb go off in his head. “I get it. People are hard to figure out. I mean, Professor Xavier doesn’t know what kind of person his students will be when they accept his offer to leave their home to join his school. I mean, look at Wolverine. He resisted and resisted, but eventually joined up. Everyone thought he was a prick. And maybe he was, but he proved himself when he became comfortable enough.” Marco realized that he was exposing himself to potential ridicule by talking about this stuff, but he didn’t see any other way to help Danny without saying “hey you’re hot, let’s have sex” and Marco Brady would never do that. “Like, I don’t know if this applies to what you’re going through and, I don’t know I should probably shut up now, but--”

“X-Men reference?” Danny dumbly blinked, his drunk self trying to connect what Marco said to his situation.

Before they could take their conversation any further, Reyrey came stomping down the stairs, having such a colorful language as he went through the living room, to the kitchen, and out the backdoor. All the while kicking everyone out of his house. Danny’s mom would be so disappointed if he ever cussed like that.

As everyone else rushed around, trying not to get in the serpent's way, the Italian boy pulled out his phone to the Belmonte sibling group thread. Vivia had quickly texted, can’t bring the twins home. Natalia had responded she had already left. Mira would likely ignore it. His other sisters were all mothers and he didn’t want to bother them, even if Cat did message asking if he needed a ride. With a little struggle, Danny texted back: I have ride. thx.

He didn’t but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. Shoving his phone back in his pants pocket, he sluggishly picked himself back up and looked at his new... friend? “Do you want to… walk together?” He knew if he walked home by himself he was likely going to pass out somewhere and get hyperthermia. Yeah, he wasn’t here to break his mom’s heart. He also wasn’t here to worry his siblings. So, asking his new friend was the next best thing!

Alerted by the raging Reyrey who came in ceasing all party activities, effective immediately, Marco did his best to focus on Danny and he was probably as stunned by what he asked as he was by the Serpent boss. He knew he should say something. His Ma didn’t raise a Wolverine-type prick. “Sure! I just..uh, need to get my coat.”


It's a bird, it's a plane, no it's CYRUS STARR.




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Cyrus Ray Starr, Son of Notus





You already know but move Farm Boy on over!





LocationKhione Cabin → Isaura's Room || Interacting With@Vicier




He… was running late.

Either Hayden had forgotten that they were supposed to be having lunch together, or, like in the past, he’d gotten so lost in his work that he wasn’t keeping track of time. Lost in the intense heat radiating from the flames of the forge. The mere thought had her shifting uncomfortably on her bed. She was still getting used to that- the heat. Even after having been together for years- well… on and off anyway.

A sigh passing through her lips; Issie fell back against the pillows. Her legs stretching out in front of her, and it was only a few seconds later that she was pulling her phone up in front of her. Scrolling listlessly through the TikTok videos that came across her page. That was, of course, until the sound of a familiar voice filling the air hit her ears, causing her to turn her head towards the source. Her bright blues flicking towards the figure standing in the doorway, “You know… you move slower than the ice age. What took you so long, Frost..?”

Astrid almost frowned that she actually didn’t get now wave of applause from her sister. “What can I say? I’m a gal who loves her camp.” Which was a lie, but Astrid had the charisma and confidence to convince herself that was the truth. “But if you want me to come back, I can go for round two around the camp.” Astrid half turned in her feigning attempt to guilt her sister just a tad.

“..do you have to be so dramatic..?”

A heavy sigh passing out through her lips; Isaura both locked and lowered her phone down to rest on the bed beside her. Hands pressing down into the mattress as she pushed herself up and into a sitting position; her legs crossing underneath her as she made herself comfortable, “..we have enough of that going on around the camp this summer; please don’t add any more…”

Astrid smiled, though there was a part of her that felt guilty. And a moment later that part lost to all the other moving gears in Astrid’s head. “You don’t say.” As she walked closer to her sister’s bed, Astrid pulled a chair that was nearby and dragged it with her and took a seat in it. “Who knew stealing a dove would cause such a commotion.” The Daughter of Khione laughed as she crossed her legs on Isaura’s bed and looked down at her hands.

A commotion… that was one way to put it. Exaggerated… ham… overemotional- there were a plethora of words that could be used to describe the situation. All of them perfect for when talking about the Gods; particularly when it came to the Greek Gods.

”..for what it’s worth, I don’t believe that she did it.” Shaking her head lightly, Issie once more allowed her back to rest against the pillows behind her. Her bright blues flicking across to rest on her sister, ”..not that it matters much...”

Astrid shrugged, giving the impression she didn’t care one way or another. Erin wasn’t her favorite person and under normal circumstances, she might’ve rooted her to fail. Nothing would bring a smile to the frigid bitch’s face to see the Princess of the Underworld be taken down a peg, but on her worst day, Astrid wouldn’t want to see her dead. And she knew if Erin did fail, that would be a very likely outcome. “So, do you think she’ll do it?”

”..I think she’ll do everything in her power to...”

It was a diplomatic answer; she knew that. But really, Issie couldn’t say definitively one way or the other as to if Erin and her posse would be able to succeed or fail. She didn’t have all the facts, and they never would. The only ones that would be able to say for sure were the ones that Erin had handpicked out of the rest of the camp to go with her, ”..but, that being said, I wouldn’t underestimate her and the others. We’ll just… have to wait and see what happens...”

A sound left Astrid’s lips, seemingly confirming that she agreed with her sister. “And if she fails, then I guess we’ll have some angry Gods to deal with.” The thought of throwing hands with a few of the Greek Pantheon appealed to the part of Astrid that had Vidar’s spirit flowing through her, but even that cranky bastard could grant her so much. Against full-fledged gods, even as a collective, did they really stand a chance? “Leave it to those Children of Hades to make life around here exciting!” Astrid laughed with both a genuine thrill that carried her into a grin but a subtle worry creeping its way to the surface.

”..even if we had to stand against the Gods, it’s not like it’s impossible. It has been done before. Demigods have managed to take down Gods on multiple occasions.” Pausing a moment, Issie lifted her hand. Gently using the tips of her fingers to brush some stray strands of her long white hair back and behind her ear so it was out of the way, ”Percy took down Ares… Jason and others stood against the Gods as well. Annabeth and Luke both worked together to take down a Titan. Hell- even Hayden’s half-brother, Leo, took down our own mother. She didn’t win that fight. It can be done; it’s just… difficult.”

Astrid didn't intend to look up at her sister out of her stubborn pride or whatever, but when their mother was mentioned, along with a brief history of some of the greatest warriors of Camp Half-Blood -- warriors that Astrid secretly admired for their strength -- she couldn't help but feel a certain inadequacy in comparison. To them, she barely accomplished anything.

And as much as she wanted to hate on the Princess of the Underworld, she was given a chance (albeit life or death one) to prove herself. "That's a lot of praise for Miss Gloom and Doom," Astrid remarked, filling the silence she let form. "But I understand what you're trying to say. And as much as I might not like her, I wouldn't want her to die at the hands of any God if she fails." Astrid said, almost feeling a melancholic relief as she spoke. "At least not until I had a chance to test my strength against her." She chuckled at her comment and the satisfying thought of defeating Erin in combat.

”..if that’s the case, then all we can do is simply support her. At least as best as we can from here in camp.” Chuckling softly, Issie gave a light shake of her head, ”You know as well as I do that we can’t interfere any further than that..”

Astrid strongly disagreed with her sister's point but not enough to argue it, so she shrugged and nodded absentmindedly. "Anyway, enough about all this potential end of the world BS - where is lover boy?" Astrid asked her sister, acknowledging the elephant in the room that was almost as big as Hayden himself. It was clear by the tone of her voice that she still wasn't happy that they were back together.

”..in the forge.”

And just like that, the civility of the conversation they’d been having was gone. Replaced instead by the animosity of the argument that had taken place between them the night before; and it was thick enough that she could slice right through it with her axe. Really, this was not the topic that she wanted to be revisiting, ”He has work to get done. We’re planning on meeting up later for a bite to eat.”

..that was if he didn’t forget… Though Issie didn’t mention that out loud; instead keeping a straight, non-phased expression on her face.

Astrid didn’t want to ask about Hayden, especially given the way she and her sister left things earlier about him, but she couldn’t hide her displeasure when she was told they were back together. Astrid’s form of overprotection of her sister could be called tyrannical at times, but to her it was just making sure no harm came to her. And sometimes that meant saying things that she wouldn’t agree with.

And that’s why the two had a somewhat tense conversation before they came back to camp. Now, Astrid had to control what she said. “So he’s working instead of being with you?” Astrid chuckled and stood up. “How long has he left you by yourself?”

”He has a job to do, you know that…” Great… it was starting again. Unable to stop herself from sighing, even softly, Isaura stared at her sister. A light frown crossing her features, ”..he was here last night- he stayed over. And we spoke after the meeting earlier. He’s the best blacksmith in camp, Astrid. I understand that, and I support his work. Even if that means we work our lives around it.”

“I… see.” She almost visibly cringed when Isaura said that he stayed over. It wasn't that she had a problem with Hayden, but Astrid couldn’t help but be anti-him; it was a natural reaction she had. “It doesn’t matter if he’s the President of the United States, he should at least tell you when he’s going to be back!” Astrid huffed in her usual ‘I’m about to do/ say something regretful’ kind of way.

”Astrid… don’t start.” Giving clear enough warning by both her words, and the tone of voice she was using; Isaura narrowed her eyes slightly towards her twin sister.

“Don’t start what?”

”You know what.”

Astrid smirked almost as if she was taunting her sister. “I know you know we’re--I’m--amazingly gifted, but I’m not a mind reader.” Even though she knew exactly what Isaura meant, Astrid played dumb. “So why don’t you enlighten me, sister?” She asked, leaning her back against the wall behind her.

Twisting on her bed, it was all too soon that Isaura’s feet had hit the ground, and she stood in front of her twin with her arms folded, and an expression that clearly read: unamused. Seriously..? She was playing the dumb card..? Please, the girl was anything but…

”Don’t act coy- it’s not cute.” Unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes, or heaving out a sigh; Issie’s arms broke from across her chest. Sliding around until she was able to instead slip them down into the back pockets of her jeans, ”I know you don’t think much of him, but I love Hayden, okay..? I love him… so stop giving him crap, and just stay out of my relationship, Astrid. I’m happy. Is that such a bad thing..?”

Her arms were folded across one another over her chest and Astrid absentmindedly tapped her left fingers on her right inner-forearm as Isaura gave her a not-so-subtle warning. “Of course it’s not a bad thing,” she somewhat confirmed with a small shrug. “You know that’s the only thing I want. I just wish you’d choose someone who wasn’t so…” She thought about what word she wanted to use that might describe Hayden accurately. He wasn’t exactly dumb despite looking like a caveman. “I just don’t understand what you see in him.” Aside from his muscles and hair, yeah Astrid couldn’t fathom what her sister was attracted to. And no that wasn’t her being attracted to Hayden. Astrid could objectively see what some might find an appeal in with that Son of Hephaestus.

”..that’s the thing...” Biting down on her lower lip- chewing on it for a moment or two as her thoughts turned to her man and all the things about him that just made her fall in love over and over again, Issie shook her head lightly.

”..you never will...”

The air in her sister’s room had suddenly turned almost as chilly as the very powers they commanded. The tension they always seemed to have (mostly on Astrid’s end) when it came to Hayden was something that naturally drove a wedge between them from time to time, but right now, it definitely seemed like history repeating itself.

Astrid narrowed her eyes on her sister, offering very few words; a simple “yeah” left her lips before she left, heading for her room. Or somewhere that wasn’t here.



All jokes aside, welcome back!
As much as Sivus wanted answers, specifically about how Jorge, who he assumed was the person that messaged him in the first place, knew about him. He made it a habit of keeping his full identity a secret from those who wanted him dead or locked up in the worst Turian prison, because that’s the sort of pull that Tarus Veritas had within the Turian Hierarchy. Just thinking about it made him want to shoot somebody. Just thinking about the death of his squad sent an incendiary grenade-sized fire through his body.

But he had to keep a lock on that temper.

Save it for whoever got in the way of the mission. Sivus always practiced that. If nothing else, he could unleash hell on some mercs and other unsavory lots.

Sivus redirected his attention to Jorge and listened to him explain. Between some person named Zakarth Daezike and the recurring theme of urgency in every word Jorge spoke, Sivus had brief flashbacks to when he ran his own team. And maybe it was his nostalgia taking full control, but being on a team with people who appeared to know how to get the job done, he was feeling like he kinda missed this. Even though he was usually in the driver’s seat, it wasn’t a bad feeling.

Though, two things flared up a few bad memories: the mention of Saren made him visibly cringe. Anger was a common emotion he felt and nobody triggered it more like the traitor of his people. The other was when Jorge mentioned Zakarth left an emergency meeting with their client. Clearly, this wasn’t Sivus’ first rodeo and usually, that meant they had a short window before the worst-case scenario was about to rear its ugly head.

And maybe it was Sivus’ own past experience of getting too excited before a mission actually began (the briefing was like what the humans called pregaming), on his face, there was a smirk that he tried to hide. Usually, someone with his credentials shouldn’t technically show such a willingness to be excited. But hey! Sivus was flawed as all hell. And this would be his first taste of real action since he went into hiding as Sivus Ritas.

Several minutes later, as Sivus put his belongings in a spot that seemed to be unclaimed and geared up, he made his way to the roof. On their way, he saw the quarian, Key, practically brushed past the group, running ahead.

“That one sure is impatient,” Sivus commented, chuckling at Key’s eagerness.

He shrugged that off as he and the others had finally made it to the roof. He didn’t know what to expect, but a simple civilian shuttle wasn’t it.

When they all got into the shuttle, Sivus had never felt more cramped among so many...different people in his life. And that wasn’t even factoring in hearing that the Vorcha on the team was, if his ears weren’t betraying him, a medic. “You’re serious?” Sivus asked more for himself as he tried to process that shocking piece of information. His experiences with Vorcha had been up and down. He’s met a Vorcha accountant before. Of course, being on Omega, Vorcha mercs were very common, but a Vorcha Doctor/Medic? That was rich and, honestly pretty fan-fucking-tastic. Sivus was all for breaking down borders. “Orsum, you’re all right. And if I am close to dying -- should it get that bad -- I’d be really curious to see just what a Vorcha Medic can do!” He laughed from deep down.

Sivus took a look around for a few seconds before speaking, “Don’t let these good looks fool you. I’m a biotic and one of Cabal making. But I also have a great deal of experience with leading infiltration missions. Probably my greatest asset other than being totally rad.” Sivus allowed himself to grin. He believed it because it was true and he’d prove it when the time came. “So we can go in loud, or if our leader deems it so, we can go it quietly. Probably for the best if we don’t want to risk anything important getting accidentally blasted.”
So many words




Outfit
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As Mika sat on the stoop of the Gonzalez front porch, he watched cars with mismatching sections of paint and one to two cars without rims pass the house and members of the Serpents acknowledged Mika with a nod with a somewhat content expression on his face. He was out there for the past thirty minutes, just ten more than when Natalia Belmonte left.

And for those thirty minutes, he had been staring almost aimlessly, deep in thought, deep in a stasis that seemed to be only enhanced every time he found himself drifting into his own mind.

Mika wasn’t the type to let himself think about the past too much. It wasn’t as though he was immune to it, but regrets rarely played a factor into who Mika was. One might say he was like Dominic Torretto in that way as he truly embodied the philosophy of living life from point A to point b. One might say this was due to the nature of the Southside life and the life that Mikhail Zima had known as long as he could remember.

Mika stood up and took a few steps away from the stoop he spent the past half hour sitting on. As he got up, his ass felt numb from being mostly still for so long, so he had to walk it off. He pushed the gate that surrounded the front yard and it made a creaking noise when he pushed it open. He walked towards the left and heard it naturally crash against the latch. The echo it made grew fainter the further Mika was from the house.

He went only to the corner and just stood there, hands in his pockets. In one pocket, he felt his keys and moved them around to pass the immediate time; in the other was his phone. After a few moments, he pulled his phone out. Seeing the time only reminded him of where everyone probably was right now.

And that made Honey Badger slightly ticked off.

Why care about the past like that? Mika thought it was stupid. Mika thought that being so caught up in whatever secrets may or may come out was idiotic. Knowing what people hid wouldn’t bring back the dead and it wouldn’t remove the guilt some felt for that damn shooting. And it sure as hell wouldn’t bring back Kai’s brother nor anyone else who suffered.

Yeah, Mika was now in a bad mood.

“Goddamn it all!” He cursed and made his way back to the house, though he wouldn't go back inside.

As he hopped into his Tacoma and it roared down the street, Mika blared whatever was on his preferred rock station. He blared it so loud that the custom bass-heavy speakers vibrated in and out of his truck. He took chances with the lights; speeding past yellow to red lights, green lights to yellow, and so on and so forth. In doing so, he not only made it out of Fear Grota territory without anyone actually knowing that Big Rey Gonzalez’s adopted son had done what nobody dared to with Heisenberg, Mika took the chance because it was the quickest way to get to the Northside.

Honey Badger really didn’t care.

In the back of his mind he was counting his blessings. The fact remained that it could have gone terribly horrid for him. Even if he had his 9mm in his glove box and a rifle in his trunk (covered up by a blanket of course), it was still a risk some might call not worth the reward.

Mika drove down Main Street at a controlled speed, no longer needing the urgent speeding one might find on abandoned backroads by street racers. Or from one adrenaline junkie who favored risk over controlled substances. As he did so, the late night that blessed Edenridge’s marketplace with minimal citizen presence made it apparent that the stench that fear and paranoia brought from that cursed shooting and its anniversary.

Perhaps that wasn’t the majority opinion, but it was Mika’s interpretation of it, stemming from his own personal feelings about the tragedy.

God, how he hated weakness in the people he shared this town with.

That selective disgust carried Mika into a blind drive down main and only would come to a stop when he pulled in front of the old stomping ground. He had parked across the street and mulled over just exactly what he should do. There was an undoubtedly large presence of people he knew, including Natalia. Just about everyone he knew was in there and he contemplated going inside. He contemplated indulging in this wild goose chase of trying to find out the culprit behind the letters.

But the longer he sat there in his truck, looking at the parking lot and centering his gaze at the main gymnasium, the less it became about wanting to know what happened and more about he became justified in his opinion that everyone was still trapped in the past. Nothing good came from being involved in the events of the past.

Cementing his resolve, though he wouldn’t drive off immediately, Mika would look at his phone. Scrolling through a few apps, Mika contracted his resolve and found himself on a page. And he saw a geotagged location.

How surreal it was. He rarely went on Instagram and thus his activity was practically nonexistent post-high school, so of course, those he followed and those who followed him remained the same. It allowed him to occasionally check up on people that might not be on good terms with.And because of this, there was one person he wronged that, no matter how hard he tried, Mika just couldn’t forget about her.

“Boston Logan International Airport,” he muttered.

That wasn’t very far from where he was.

As he spent a couple of minutes contemplating, something that Mika has been doing frequently in recent weeks, his mind was made up when he started up his truck.

How contradictory was it of him to shame those who clung to the ghost of Charlie Decker, yet Mika is doing the very same with someone he claimed not to care about. He always wondered what could’ve happened if he didn’t choose the coward’s way out? He could even hear their voice when he decided to not return their feelings.

Or rather, when he lied to their face.

He still didn’t know if he would return them, but in the year that’s passed, Mika’s changed...somewhat. He still has those demons that like to come to the surface sometimes. It’s a constant struggle, but he’s better than he was a year ago.

As he continued to drive down the I-90, those thoughts kept persisting, so Mika blocked them out to the sounds of Machine Head. This is the End proved to be an almost biblical soundtrack for what was undoubtedly a mistake in the making, but he didn’t care. Mika knew what he was doing even if everything in him that from a year ago was telling him to turn back.

He took the nearest exit that led him down a road. He took a left and circled around the terminals. There were four and, honestly, Mika was having an internal struggle about whether or not he should do this. It wasn’t so late that he couldn’t go back home and forget any of this happened. It wasn't as though anyone of importance saw him. And by circling around, which at this point he’s done so twice, he was wasting gas. If anything was going to make his decision, it would have to be something so glaringly obvious that he couldn’t just ignore it.

Glancing at his phone and coming to a stop across the way from Terminal C, Mika just waited.

I shouldn’t be here, he thought as he didn’t budge.

In an evening where Mikhail had spent the majority of it mulling over how everyone he knew was still stuck in the past, here he was waiting for a sign from his. He needed to know that he was doing the right thing.

Soon, he learned God had impeccable timing.

Coming through the entrance, hands interlocked, there he saw Caitlin Cleary. She was as sexy as he remembered. But she wasn’t alone. As he gripped the leather covering of his steering wheel, Mika gritted his jealous teeth when he saw who she was with. IT didn’t matter to him that she was happy.

“Niles Sinclair…” Mika cursed his name into oblivion, curses that his father taught him. He cursed it with green envy as they kissed, the grip on his steering wheel getting so tight that parts of the covering ripped.

Mika would follow them wherever they went. Tonight would not be a celebration for anyone.

I am of the opinion that coffee is always best when it's black.


I see you, too, are a man of culture.
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