Shadow of a Man

Mason Clad | Connor Argus-Ocampo | 26 | Umbrakinesis Making friends with shadows on my wall.

[unicorion-blog]

giblets for the cat ✩ open

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion nearly laughed. ‘Don’t sell yourself short.’ How amusing. She decided not to respond to it, though. This guy seemed to like making her feel uncomfortable, so she didn’t want to give him more material and encourage him. Instead, she kept quiet, awkwardly shuffling her feet around, waiting for him to finish speaking, making her feel smaller. “It’s not…. dedication…” She argued weakly. Sure, she was dedicated to taking care of her cat, but she knew she often failed as well.

She watched Connor, who had clearly seen the way she had reacted to his name. She felt nervous, like she had been pulled into a battle that wasn’t hers to fight. She’d been actively avoiding Mason and now… Now she was speaking to his ex, his boyfriend, his lover? Whatever he was, Mason was still in love with him – he’d been all Mason could talk about and Orion had comforted him, even if she wasn’t sure if the two would ever meet again.

And here he was. In… Mason’s body.

She probably shouldn’t talk about it, at least not in here, with the cashier still being there, who was still blushing from whatever Connor had whispered in his direction – Orion didn’t want to know what that could have been. Her fingers found the strap of her bag, holding on to it tightly. “We, uh… We should…. talk tonight.” Was that subtle enough? Or would he be worried that she’d never show up, now that she knew who he was? Which was definitely tempting.

Why did she do that? Whenever Connor said something, she refuted it in some way. Why couldn’t she take his words for what they were? “You’re out at night. Buying three bags of cat food. Let’s think about that, shall we?” Orion clearly cared about her cat, even if she didn’t want to admit it. She went out of her way, dealing with Julio’s shitty customer service to make sure the cat didn’t go hungry. That was dedication--no, loyalty--at its finest. And Connor needed someone who’d stay loyal to him.

Everyone in Connor’s life so far had either left him or completely shut him out. Was he that dispensable? He knew he wasn’t the nicest guy around, but he had feelings, too. Did they matter? It hurt him that he controlled shadows and became a shadow to everyone else, both literally and figuratively. What did he have to do to be recognized? To have someone in his corner?

He felt tense, his name still echoing in the air around them. She knew more than she was letting on, didn’t she? The chill of the environment...the hissing of the shadows in the corners of the store...all signs that Orion had some knowledge of him and Mason. Rather, him and Connor. Was she a part of the ASH? He wouldn’t know what he would do if she was responsible for his body’s capture. 

“We should.” Connor forced himself to remain calm and casual, not wanting to show that he had picked up on her knowledge of his ex. Seeming too eager to meet her would be a turn-off. Being angry would probably leave her in tears. If he played obliviousness he could have the upper hand. Because it’d be her turn to gauge his reaction to the news and her fault if it didn’t turn out so well. “I guess I’ll be seeing you, then. Midnight, sharp. And wear sensible shoes.” He let out a laugh. Though he doubted they’d have to make a run for it after robbing the store, he wanted Orion to be prepared. Just in case. She was worth more than gold to him right now.

[ironclxdalibi-blog]

REW1ND  ↺  the beginning

[eclipseofargus-blog]

ironclxdalibi:

Gold Courier, a career squarely plated on professional parchment, a classy suit the interface of modernity - was it impossible not to gawk? Connor chewed softly on his upper lip to keep from dryly licking his lips, his eyes lingering on Mason’s ass ( !?!? ), tracing up his form to gaze just below the eyes. His little burst of confidence waned almost instantly. Mason had it cut for him: everything perfectly tailored, not a line out of place, a job that Connor could only dream of, and… all of it made a plume of self-consciousness ebb right into his chest. Compared to his navy-blue fabric, as smooth as the ocean beside them, Connor had his beat-up, baggy, ketchup-stained Hunter College sweatshirt hanging over his shoulders like it were a blanket. Sir Handsome Pants wore self-assurance across his clavicle effortlessly.

After being cooped up in his room, comfortable with his arrangements, Connor now felt more inadequate than ever. The urge to just sink away to his friends floated through his mind. Compared to Mason’s round ass, he’d been told his ass was flat in his favorite H&M cotton shorts. He’d been making scraps off his dumb job handling the cash register in a boba shop and surviving off of financial aid grants and monthly allowance in the mail from Lola Ocampo - mangaon, apo, you’re too skinny - with no job prospects in the near horizon. It all made Connor shrink under the light, rub his arm and hold his gaze at the skin under Mason’s eyes.

And he was supposed to think he had a chance; that maybe…

It wasn’t often people gave him their business cards. This was the first, actually. Connor glazed over his name before he finally saw his number.

Perhaps this hadn’t been a mistake? Did Mason truly want his opinion on the suit - that it wasn’t canned small-talk, but an actual excuse to talk? Connor bit back a grin, his expression brightening as he met Mason’s eyes.

“I think it perfectly suits you, Mason,” he said, biting back the urge to poke his tongue out despite that he was proud of his play on words. “Smooth yet sharp. That tone of navy exudes confidence. It’s really impressive. And you designed the suit and everything, from the colors to the lapel? You have great taste.”

A silence fell between them. Connor just gazed dumbly at the other, lingering on his form. He shook himself from his trance when he realized it might have been a second too long, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling out a tuft of cotton candy. “Do you, uh, want some? I just wanted to offer, since I bombarded you and everything. Didn’t mean to get sugar all over your face.”

So he was crushing. Hard. Mason had his eyes on Connor the entire time, smirking at the chewing of his lip and the way he avoided his eyes. There was no doubt that in Connor’s gaze, flames of desire were alight. Who could blame him? Mason had to see this. He faced the college student, leaning in close, attempting to raise a hand to lift Connor’s chin so that their eyes met. “Why so shy?” His breath was warm and heavy between them. Oddly, Mason was so turned on by the interest Connor was giving him. He didn’t show it but he was jittery with adrenaline. With Mason Clad, flattery got you everywhere. 

Scary. It was scary how Mason was ready to kiss a complete stranger--a stranger in poorly-fitting clothes, no less--slightly shorter than him and at a different stage in his life, all because he had said a few kind things. Being devoid of attention had him quick to jump into the arms of anyone who paid him any mind; a couple of times a day he felt drawn to someone just because they asked him how his day was. How dangerous. It was clear that he and Connor were complete opposites. And you know what they said about opposites...

Mason took a step back before he lost control, straightening his collar, telling himself that it was normal for people to receive compliments. That he shouldn’t take these words to heart. They were only spoken to be polite. Connor had feelings for him, that much he was sure of, but that didn’t mean his words were supposed to be taken in any other way--Mason was simply overreacting. Hearing what he wanted to.

Connor looked over the business card, and Mason tried hard--tried hard--not to put him up on that mental pedestal. It didn’t matter what he thought about the card. What he thought about him. Soon, they’d go their own separate ways. They’d soon forget the other existed. Connor would probably throw the card away. Right?

Their eyes met again, Connor’s face shining, and a little smile passed over Mason’s lips. Who knew a business card could make this student seem more...confident? If that’s the case, Mason ought to hand out the rest of his cards in pocket.

Mason rolled his eyes at the pun. Hilarious. “Everything. Even the thread for the buttons.” He remembered choosing hot pink thread to coincide with the maroon pocket square--a clever choice--not that anyone would notice. In order to be successful, one had to look the part, too. “I know I do.” A chuckle escaped from him. He then tilted his head in thought, his mind cycling through a few things before he settled on something: “...Green. Green’s definitely your color. You should wear more of it.”

The silence was where Mason gave Connor a blank stare, fingers brushing lightly across his own five o’ clock shadow. Was there anything left in this moment? Should he walk away now? He frowned at the piece of cotton candy when it drifted into his line of sight. “I hate cotton candy.” Which wasn’t exactly true. He never had an opinion on the wispy, sugary treat...until it had the chance of ruining his suit. He stepped aside, thumbing the rack of smiley-face pretzels under the heat lamps behind him. “But these...”

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion could feel her cheeks burning, still glad the room was too dark to let the stranger see the blush. “I… have never believed in Santa Claus.” She shrugged and decided not to elaborate on the subject, since she was probably already boring the other person and he most likely didn’t want to hear her story of her childhood, ‘raised’ by parents who could hardly remember her birthday. She didn’t need his sympathy and doubted she would even get any. This stranger seemed more focused on making her feel insignificant and like a bother.

“I don’t know that song. Most of my favorite songs are from musicals.” She awkwardly explained. Again, it was probably information he wasn’t interested in. Orion wished she could just shut up or walk out or do anything that didn’t involve embarrassing herself any further, while all she had wanted was to just watch a movie. she knew she should have stayed home and watched it there.

“I don’t think you can fit the definition of love in a dictionary.” She argued weakly. “A lot of pain is caused by love. The emotional kind, anyway…” She folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from fumbling with her clothing again. “I think it’s a nice idea to think someone can complete you. I don’t like to think I’m just me and that’s all I ever will be…” Too much personal information there. Great.

‘Lying is bad.’ The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. She couldn’t bring herself to actually say them, turn herself into the biggest hypocrite. “That’s… That’s confusing, though.” She eventually replied, before biting her lip again. He was going to laugh at her sooner or later, she was sure of it. It had been a while since she had encountered anyone who had been rather obvious about being bored or irritated in her presence and it was really starting to mess with her head.

She nervously tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I, uh… observe a lot, I suppose.. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just– I wanted to let you know I understand…” She shrunk further into the chair, nearly falling out of it when the stranger actually laughed, loudly, making her feel sick to her stomach, making her wish she could just disappear right then and there. Her hand reached for her coat, the other grabbing a hold of her bag. She just wanted to get out of here.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…” She could feel tears burning in her eyes now and mentally cursed herself for being so weak, so sensitive, so stupid. “I’m not in denial.” She managed, though her voice was breaking a little. She turned her head away, hiding her face as she took quiet breaths in an attempt to calm down. She couldn’t storm out of the theater with tears running down her cheeks and she definitely didn’t want to face the world outside – the busy streets – with her current blurry vision and shaky knees.

Connor scoffed at her disbelief of the holiday icon. Someone who appeared to have such childlike optimism didn’t believe in the king of joy? Perhaps she shrugged in the dark; he couldn’t tell through his half-lidded eyes. The reason why he had decided to see this particular movie was unclear at this point. How this conversation began stumped him. Where would it lead?

“Such as?” He wasn’t a big musical guy. Whatever she mentioned he wouldn’t have known what it was, even if was the movie he was currently watching. But his fatigue had a way of making him less bitter. Or maybe it was the crowd of shadows around him. “Then why watch this?” He could ask himself the same thing. There were better ways for both of them to spend their time. 

“A simple word with tons of meaning, yes.” This was probably the first time he agreed with her today, “It needs a dictionary of its own.” Pain. The word held so much weight. Held so many nightmares. Connor reached over for his bag of popcorn, nibbling on a few pieces as a form of comfort. “Pain is...do you think love will ever stop hurting?” Flashes of Connor Argus seemed to project on the screen in front of him and he turned away from it and disgust. “But when that person leaves? I can’t let one person complete me. Not anymore. Sometimes it’s good to...be alone. Less to worry about.” Again, he wasn’t sure who he was speaking to.

“Confusing, or not worth the thought?” Connor smiled, loving the fact that he was just as elusive as he wanted to be. He didn’t expect her to scrutinize everything he said; she might find the truth between layers of snide remarks. Sarcastic wit. Things he wouldn’t admit to ever.

“Understand? I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m sure our experiences differ.” How could she possibly understand? Everyone had times of loneliness. What made them kindred spirits? Did she know what it was like to literally live a lie? To not really live at all? To hate the name she had to go by? She was reaching for her coat and grabbing her bag. He wanted to hold out a hand to stop her, wanting to know how her mind worked, yet he reached out for more popcorn.

“Huh.” Did that count as prying? It wasn’t like she tried to force the answers out of him. Her voice broke when she spoke next, and he squinted through the dark to see if she was crying. But she turned away before he could tell. “I am.” He admitted his denial slowly; her reaction reminded him of himself a long time ago, when he thought his parents nursed him through his flu because they loved him. No. It was because they felt guilty. That they wanted to prove to others that they could care if they wanted to. He tried to meet her eyes in the dark. He had put his fears on the table. Now what?

[ironclxdalibi-blog]

REW1ND  ↺  the beginning

for your ears.mp3  ◄◄  ( nova scotia.magic man )                                            @eclipseofargus

“Just do it, Connio. It’s not that hard, you won’t regret it.”

As his two friends nudged him like he were some puppy to go fetch a frisby, Connor chewed on his upper lip instead. He ducked behind a cloud of cotton candy, all ten fingers tight around the paper cone like it were a blanket. Go and talk to a complete stranger whom he found cute? That was too much.

It’d taken half a week to nag him into closing his crappy HP laptop and leave the apartment for once to get some fresh air at the waterfront fair. The whole attraction drove into the vista point, tirelessly stretching onward. Connor hoped they wouldn’t walk the entire radius; his chest was already buzzingly heavy, his forehead sticky with separation anxiety for his room. For a moment, he gazed out onto the waterfront, the sunlight sliding over the ocean like it were a canvas painting. The sun… It was bright on his pale skin - he’d never been in tune with his Filipino roots. But, more importantly, it was bright.

He’d muttered one thing about a guy being cute, unable to tear him from his vision, and now his friends were hounding him about it. Forced him to talk about the cut of his jawline, the shape of his ass, the rhythm of his hair, his crisp, suave outfit. A complete package.

And here Connor was, in a lame college sweatshirt, his wallet chain ringing beside him. Connor withered behind the cotton candy. “I don’t know,” he said flatly, despite his star-eyes.

They hardly cared, pushing him towards the guy. Connor tripped over his feet, stumbling towards the guy - the guy - as he hid his eyes with the bush of cotton candy. His heart was pounding; thumpthump, thumpthump.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered to the stranger, gazing up at him with a wide smile. Half-apprehension, half-fake-spur-of-the-moment-confidence. A chuckle rattled through his voice. “I’m Connor. But, uh, you can call me whatever you want. This was going moderately well. That was, until he lost his balance, his face falling against the others, the cotton candy flattening between them. How confectionary. Connor darted back, his face flushed pink. He plucked a small string of cotton candy off the other’s face. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice trailing off. 

He turned back towards his friends, shaking their heads at him. How would he back himself out of this.

“Or… did I? By the way, I like your pants. A lot. It’s a nice cut.”

[eclipseofargus-blog]

Mason felt so out of place, traversing the waterfront fair in his crisp, navy-blue suit, white shirt buttoned up at the neck, maroon pocket square, and brown wingtip shoes. Wherever he looked, casually dressed people and scampering children were in sight. Flocks of seagulls littered the walkway, scattering as he made his way through them. Briefly he stopped at the railing that separated him from the ocean, leaning against it languidly, his eyes on the shadows between the waves. So pretty. 

Unaware of the little audience he acquired, Mason turned away from the water and kept moving, his tall frame straight, his broad shoulders square. Deeper in the crowd he went, with a desire to get lost in it. 

He had been in a business meeting all morning--discussions of the firm’s lack of motivation and failure to complete their goals ran through his mind. And were they still going over the dress code this late in the year? Some people needed to understand that the firm was a place of business. Not a paid vacation. Standards existed. His boss told him to “take five” before discussing consumer details; Mason decided to check out the crowds he noticed on his way to work and maybe “take twenty” instead. It’s not like the firm could afford to fire him, the best employee that ever walked through their doors.

Ew. Was this a...fair? What tacky form of amusement! Stopping at a kiosk to observe monster-sized turkey legs--do people actually eat those?--in disgust, Mason carried himself to a kiosk selling smiley face-shaped salted pretzels, right across from the cotton candy. How do they make them like that? Mason bent over to check the food, giving the glass a cautious tap as if he were standing before a fish tank and trying to disturb the fish. When he heard another voice, he straightened and spun around. 

Oh. A college student. Dressed quite shoddily, too. Connor, he said his name was, along with something about calling him anything? What was that about? This wasn’t an awkward mating ritual, was it? Mason didn’t know what to make of the other’s nervousness. In his home he had to adapt by being bold, standing out amongst his siblings for his parents’ recognition. Life was too short to be hiding what one had to say or think. 

“Mason Clad.” He held up a finger to signal one second before reaching into his inner blazer pocket and producing a perfectly printed business card with gold, script lettering--complete with his name (Mason A. Clad) and cell phone number, the business firm’s name (Express Yourshelf: Bookshelves and Bookends--From cover to cover we make ends meet!) and its number. On the back of the card was a word in the same font: Shadow. “My business card. Impressive, hm?” Mason tilted his head.

Suddenly he was attacked by the cotton candy in Connor’s grip, the sugary treat pressing against him as Connor’s face collided with his. An emotion of Mason’s had yet to process itself before the student backed up, blushing. Fingers removed a piece of cotton candy from his face and Mason desperately needed a mirror to check for more. Or to check himself out. He narrowed his eyes at the comment about possibly falling onto him on purpose. Was that supposed to be funny? Psh. 

Mason followed Connor’s gaze back to his friends. Did they set Connor out to talk to him? In a way it creeped him out. But also flattered him. Most people were too intimidated by him to strike up a conversation. So this was what it felt like to receive attention, instead of being over-the-top in order to gain some. It felt...nice.

“Do you?” Mason’s eyebrow shot up at the compliment. “Entire suit. Custom made.” He tried to reel in some validation, pausing for a moment to hear praise. He then smirked, sensing Connor’s crush on him (who couldn’t?), and decided to test it some. “The cut...is it too tight? Ugh. I warned Pascal about that. What do you think?” Mason offered Connor his hip, turning slightly to give him a perfect view of his ass.

[unicorion-blog]

giblets for the cat ✩ open

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion bit her lip, her hands fumbling awkwardly with the zipper of her bag. The only reason she wasn’t just walking away was because it would seem impolite after this person had offered to help her out. Even if it was for a ‘favor’, whatever that was going to turn out to be. Maybe it was because he was slightly intriguing, even if he made her feel entirely uncomfortable, but it was 99% because she didn’t want to seem rude.

“I know it doesn’t solve everything, but it’s all I have..” That wasn’t too big of a lie. She didn’t have much else to offer him. Her cheeks heated up at his question and she was quite sure she was close to resembling a tomato by now. “It’s– It’s dry food, it doesn’t expire that quickly…” She cringed a little at the way he looked at her. Great, he probably thought she was crazy. “I work a lot, I don’t have much time to go out to buy cat food.” And she was wasting precious nap time right now. “So, I, um… just buy it in stock…”

She wrapped her arms around herself once again, feeling incredibly small underneath his gaze. It wasn’t until he said his name, that her expression slowly turned into one of recognition and… slight panic. Connor. Of course. Now she remembered where she had seen his face.

On the picture Mason had shown her on his phone.

This was entirely the worst time to bring that up, though. She was already tense and exhausted and she didn’t want to think about Mason while she was consciously – yet not entirely deliberately – avoiding him. Should she tell him, though? Should she tell him she had found Connor – or Mason, rather?

Was she supposed to tell Connor that she knew who he was? That… Mason had been the one who had kissed her and then went on telling her how much he loved Connor? Oh gosh. She felt dizzy.

“I…. I should go now. I’ll…. see you later…” She managed, nervously glancing back and forth between Connor and the cashier once again.

Connor lingered at the checkout line, debating on changing his plans entirely; there was a way he could meet up with Julio and still have enough time for Orion. He didn’t walk the distance to the store to leave empty-handed. While Orion played with the zipper on her bag, Connor leaned over the register to whisper an impromptu hook-up spot in Julio’s ear. The cashiers face matched the hue of Orion’s hair. Who says you can’t have cake and eat it, too?

He pulled away from Julio at her words. “Don’t sell yourself short.” Most people had more to offer than they realized. How could she assume she wasn’t of value if she didn’t know the criteria he was using to assess her with? Her face turned red again. Was blushing all she did? “And?” Connor gave her a careless shrug. He could care less about the type of food. Upon listening to her reason for buying the food, he gave her a nod. So that was it. Buying the food in stock. Not so smart, considering she had dropped a bag earlier and teetered on her heels. How far she had to walk with all that weight, Connor couldn’t imagine. Didn’t want to, rather. “Whatever works for you. That’s some dedication. You wouldn’t see me doing that.”

Dedication. Check. See, she had things to offer! 

Her expression changed once he told her his name, and he frowned in concentration. Did she know him from somewhere? He never saw her before. And he’d remember if he did. Was it the real Connor Argus? Was his ex dumb enough to use the name “Connor” as well? He let out a breath, feeling tense and tingly. A cocktail of fear, anger, and...love? No. It had to be something else. Had to be. 

“Yeah.” Connor was speaking more to himself at first, as if he was confirming that he was indeed not feeling love for Connor Argus. Not after what happened between  them. “Yeah.” This time the word was directed at Orion. 

Maybe this was one deal he shouldn’t have made.

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

The redhead blinked slowly, caught off guard by the question. “I– No?” She responded, feeling awkward. “Though… If they truly believed that it is or could prove to me that they were right, I might. I mean, if something was causing them to believe or see the sky to be green, I wouldn’t want to upset them and–” She stopped herself there, realizing she was going on about something irrelevant. “My– My friend was just trying to comfort me.” She then said quietly. She’d been really upset and though she didn’t necessarily believe the words, she pretended Sammy was right, even if it was just to make her feel somewhat better about the situation.

Orion turned to look at him at his next question, only to look down at her hands when she found him looking at her in return. “I think it exists.” She replied. She was confident about that, at least. So she forced herself to look up again. “I think a lot of people mistake the two for each other, yes. And… perhaps sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference, I don’t know. But… it’s like…. like they describe it in one of my favorite songs. I think everyone has their other half and you just have to look for them. And sometimes you think you’ve found them and it turns out you were wrong. But maybe the pain you feel when that happens… is also love.”

She crossed her legs, flinched a little and uncrossed them again. “You just said you liked me..” She mumbled, frowning a little, though her heart was pounding roughly inside her chest. Was he deliberately making her feel uncomfortable and stupid? Could he possibly have another reason for speaking to her, when her insecurity and nervousness annoyed him?

“Because…” Was he really trying to drag those unspoken words out of her? Was he so desperate to hear her finish her sentence? Most people didn’t even seem to notice when she shut herself up mid-sentence. “Because I get lonely too.” She eventually admitted. “And then I… go watch movies.” God, she sounded so dumb, didn’t she? Wait, what was he saying now? “… What? Why–” Was it of any use to finish her question? Would he appreciate her wondering why he refused to talk about movies with her? What he was talking about? Or would she just sound like an idiot again?

Other ways of speaking. Was he talking about her body language or perhaps– No, he couldn’t know. She nervously looked down at his finger, which was dangerously close to her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about….” She desperately wanted to curl further into herself, but the chair was already feeling uncomfortable against her body. “I could try to change your view or your opinions, but I’m sure you have your reasons for having them.”

What was she supposed to say? She didn’t let anyone in, didn’t let anyone see behind her image of being shy and kind and happy. Because everyone thought she was a positive and sweet ray of sunshine, didn’t they? And that was her intention. No one needed to know anything else.

“I can’t change that kiss. I can only… tell myself it didn’t count.”

Rhetorical. It was a rhetorical question. Connor didn’t really want to know what she would do in that instance. Her rambling began to put him to sleep--a battle to keep his heavy eyelids open went on as she talked. Couldn’t he have sat next to a more entertaining person? 

“I’m guessing you still believe in Santa Claus?” The teasing in his voice practically soaked the sentence like the butter of the bottom of his long-forgotten bag of popcorn. “Don’t tell me your favorite song is the Barney one. Hugs, kisses, and whatnot.” Again, he was merely teasing, yet the song seemed like it fit her somehow. Maybe because she struck him as being rated “G”--no bark, no bite. “That’s where you’re wrong. You completes you. No one else. And pain isn’t love. It’s pain. I can find you a dictionary if you want.” What was Connor doing, playing along with this conversation? The boredom must’ve been real.

“I say lots of things.” He snuggled deeper into the chair, preparing himself for a long nap, “I only mean half of them.” Honestly, he admired her attitude in the moment--he barely even knew her to piece together what he liked about her as a whole. So far, he didn’t think much of Little Miss Head-In-The-Clouds. Letting her decide which half of his words were sincere was totally fun. Gotta keep up the mystery. 

Connor shivered at the mention of loneliness. Was it so obvious what he sat here for? Could she smell the solitude on him? “That’s...observant. I guess.” He shrugged to hide his fear. Did she also know why he was lonely? He wanted to ask if she knew anything about a Mason Clad, maybe. If only doing so meant he wouldn’t have to explain who Mason was. Is. “Nothing. I wanted to prove that you could be confident.”

He lowered his finger, returning his hand to his side. A smirk played across his lips. “If everything’s explained to you, you’ll never learn. I’m so full of lessons today...like a textbook.” This time he allowed himself to laugh, a long, full sound that bounced off of the shadows in the room; it gave them the effect of joining in with the laughter, “You can’t change a person’s view. Even if you gave them all the ideas in the world, even if they put those ideas to use, they’re going to go with what makes them comfortable in the end. Is there a reason? Maybe. Am I telling you what it is? Not in your wildest dreams.” 

He thought they were over talking about the details of the kiss after his last mention of it. What he was looking for was a simple “yes” or “no.” This stranger didn’t know the meaning of “simple” or was either starting to reconsider her stance on the kiss. See the truth for once. “Denial is a rough river to swim through. Trust me. Leave before the current takes you away.”

[goodgrxff-blog]

the great ➻ open

[eclipseofargus-blog]

goodgrxff:

Gordon never understood ice packs. Always thought of them as much auxiliary - just buy a sack of frozen peas or get over it. But as he lounged back against the sofa, feeling every spring out of place underneath him, he took solace in the cool touch of neoprene against his forehead. One of the interns fanned him with one of their thin textbooks and airplaned his favorite Firecrackers Popsicle into his mouth. So much scrambled on in the wing, on the stage. And, yet, Gordon groaned, still in all of this entropy. Never again would he pull something off of that magnitude. Never. Again.

As Connor wrapped up the show - someone give him a credit - the producers had dragged Gordon off to the corner of the wing, scolding him. Going off on him. Taking turns passing the bottle spiked with truth. Whatever. Gordon took it all, cooly unfazed through it all - their words hardly mattered. At the end of the day, he was the Great Griffin and he ran the show.

His fellow cast-mates rushed on stage to do their bows, the audience roaring with applause, growing by the half-second.

“Now, get out there and do a bow, and don’t fuck it up.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Gordon said, rolling his eyes as he sauntered towards the stage.

The moment his polished dress shoes struck the stage, Gordon smirked, his gait absolutely confident and smug as he bowed center-stage. The room was affective, absolutely enthralled with him, but Gordon could hardly care. There was no spotlight - of course. The producers had royally f’d up. But, to their dismay, this show was an absolute success. Gordon could already taste the headlines fresh on the paper the next morning, his title in bold Courier. He wrapped an arm around Captivating Connor’s shoulder, cocking a brow at him. “Show this kid some love. Lemme hear it.”

The crowd went wild, chanting their names like a stereo system.

As the curtains met the stage, Gordon snapped his fingers, the intern wheeling the sofa onstage. He sat, patting the purple fabric beside him. “Well, wasn’t that hot,” Gordon said. His head arched back to meet his intern’s eyes, puppy-dogging him with a faux expression of gratitude. “Be a dear and get this kid and I some Coca Cola from the dressing room freezer. Not the canned one, the bottle with real cane sugar.”

The stage was like a cell, the cast and crew moving in and out between the outer membrane. Gordon had read that in the intern’s book, thought it was interesting. But what was more interesting was the kid before him. His heir. His prodigy. Crossing his arms, his eyes ran up and down Connor’s body, tracing over his eyes. “Well, that was fun. I’ll have to cast you in my Magic Mike sequel. Whenever that gets written,” he said, his voice fading as he licked his lips in anticipation. “Drinks on me. Unless you hate soda. What was it you wanted to see again? The sword collection? You sure that’s not too dangerous for you? Or do you do your fair share of sword-fighting in your free time?”

Don’t do it. Don’t go off on Gordon. Breathe. Repress. Repeat. Connor remained onstage, trying to redirect his anger to the person who really deserved it--New York City’s resident body-snatcher, Connor Argus. So Gordon put Connor through the wringer. Left him out in the lion’s den with the bare essentials. Like one of those cushy motherfuckers in those coliseum movies who sit back and watch as their soldiers are mauled beyond recognition. 

The cast-mates lined the stage, appearing in the fashion of the aforementioned soldiers. Each of their bows were rushed. Sloppy. Yet the audience wanted more.

One more person was missing from the equation, the last person Connor wanted to see. The Great Griffin. All swagger as if he actually did anything, Gordon bowed center-stage to lack of a spotlight. His arm wrapped around Connor’s shoulder, possibly saying something. Connor didn’t know what; all of the heir’s focus remained on the doors on the far back of the room, his expression blank. Swallowing a scream, Connor decided to give Gordon the silent treatment: A childish act. And Connor hated anything childish. A moment of hypocrisy he’d get on himself about later. 

The crowd chanted Gordon’s and...Connor Argus’ name (much to the dismay of the newly-appointed heir). Ugh. If only they knew who they were really cheering for.

Curtains shut the pair of magicians away from the rest of the world. Connor snatched off Gordon’s hat, holding it in his hands for a minute. That starstruck feeling he felt just a while ago had went up in smoke like that entire act. Ass up, to be exact--a real Assy the Dragon type deal. Was Connor still a fan of the Great Griffin? Did he still give a damn? 

Not really.

When the sofa rolled in, Connor rose an eyebrow in utter disbelief. This was not what he had in mind. He wanted rough, lustful, body-shattering sex on the actual stage floor. Curtains wide open. The fear--no, thrill--that someone could walk in on them at any second. Not some comfortable, on-the-couch shit. Connor loved walking through the streets after a nice romp, bruises along his neck for the world to see. He wore his sexual encounters like a badge of pride. He wanted to wake up, hours later, the ache in his body all too real. Wanted to stand in front of the mirror devoid of clothes, counting the fingerprint bruises along his hips and the scratches along the length of his back.

No, Gordon. That was hot.

Connor threw Gordon’s hat and wand on the cushion beside the man. The spell Gordon had on him was broken. Gordon’s ordering of Coca-Cola--the bottled kind as if it really mattered--was the last straw. Connor had placed the magician on too high of a pedestal. Thought he had a sense of prestige. Even boxed wine would’ve worked here. Served in wine glasses...not the sippy cups Connor knew Gordon probably had.

For the first time in his life, Connor felt...dirty as Gordon inspected him. And not in the good way, either. Magic Mike sequel? Fuck that! Connor wasn’t some trained monkey Gordon could drag around. Not some cash cow to be milked. Today was Captivating Connor’s first and last appearance. Connor shook his head at the entirety of Gordon’s words. None of this applied anymore. Time to break the silence. “I think I’m catching something. Must be all the bullshit in the air.” The strained politeness in his voice audible. The snark across his face unbridled, “You know what? I’m going to take my captivating self and go. Never to return. Try not to stare too hard at my ass when I do, Gordon. How’s that for a sequel? I’m an original. Not a rerun. Get it right. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever seen. Only second to that fucking dragon you had me fight. Fuck you and your bottled, cane sugar shit. If I want authenticity, I’ll look in the mirror.”

He attempted to turn away, free to leave the venue. And the first order of business was revoking his Official Great Griffin Fan Club membership of five years. Five fucking years.

[unicorion-blog]

giblets for the cat ✩ open

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion gave a timid nod of her head. She was entirely too exhausted to really be out at midnight, but she supposed she could take a short nap before making her way back to the store. Her face flushed a darker shade of pink when the male spoke to the cashier again, making her feel… probably the most awkward she had ever felt in her life. And that said a lot. 

The redhead tilted her head in slight confusion when he instantly refused the money. She’d really hoped he would go for it, because she hated to live with the knowledge of owing someone a favor. Especially if the other person didn’t know what the favor was just yet. “I– I only have one cat.” She stammered, wrapping her arms around herself. How humiliating that he already assumed her to be some sort of cat lady. Though it was most likely because she had been dragging those three bags of cat food around, but… she just preferred not to have to leave her apartment if she didn’t need to.

Not that she was going to tell a stranger that.

She eyed him for a moment, finally gathering up the courage to really look at him, instead of trying to hide her face (and blush). There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite place him. Of course, she saw dozens of people every day and though she was good with names, faces sometimes got jumbled inside her head. “I– I, um.. My name is Orion, by the way…”

Connor knew what he was doing, making others feel uncomfortable to shift the focus from his less-than-honorable deal with her. People tended to let their guard down when there was something to keep their minds busy; he figured that was the reason why she had given into his offer without much debate. The two were strangers to each other and already she was putty in his hands. So, so easy! 

Unfortunately for Julio, Connor had no qualms about talking about sex. Though embarrassing the cashier was not intended, it added a nice touch to the already awkward environment. Gave Connor more joy in knowing that his influence stretched far.

A shake of Connor’s head answered her confusion. “Money solves many problems. Just not this one. Sorry.” The look on his face was far from apologetic, closer to that of nonchalance. “You could’ve fooled me. What’s on the menu? Cat food lasagna?” He gave her a once-over, biting away a laugh, “I’m no animal expert, but three bags might be too much.” How big was that cat? What was the bottle of water for? Why not buy more of them?  What was she going to eat?

The eye contact they held was unexpected, seeing as though she avoided his gaze earlier. What brought about the sudden change? Surely she wouldn’t tell him off about his poorly-aimed cat jokes, right? No offense to her, but she set herself up for those.  At her introduction, he gave her the biggest grin he could muster. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about her name, it was his own that he loved to toss around like salespeople did a sales pitch. “Connor Argus-Ocampo. Remember it.”

[eclipseofargus-blog]

mutedxmelodies:

Her smile dimmed after he said “screaming,” his tone flippant. She hoped the darkness of the theatre was enough to hide the shadow that passed over her face, but she turned away just to be sure, and walked with him to the barely illuminated exit. At first, she didn’t want to respond to his comment, but he didn’t know she normally used a sketch pad to talk to others, so she started to feel obliged to reply. As the silence bordered on awkward, she finally spoke. Murmured, more like.

“True screaming is the worst sound in the world,” she said simply, and pushed open the exit door.

She expected bright lights, but was met with an underwhelming dimness. A strip of lights lined each side of the hallway, but the one on the right was off, dousing the right wall in darkness and exaggerating all shadows reflected on the left-hand wall. Regardless of whether the lopsided lighting was due to an employee’s forgetfulness or an odd partial power outage, Evelyn was grateful for the occurrence, sticking to the right side. She didn’t like attracting attention, at least not while she was unmasked. Head down, she weaved through other individuals in the hallway until she was standing in front of the doorway at the end of it.

Next to the door was a bright blue bin filled with 3-D glasses. A flat screen above the bin read, “Experience 4-D today,” featuring a repeating video of a group of friends strapping themselves in what looked like a combination of theatre seats and a roller coaster. While a clip of the movie played, the seats moved up, down, and side to side.

An edge of her mouth turned up. Interesting. The more vivid the escape was, the better. No matter what the genre was, she’d lived through far worse. As long as there was no extended singing scene, she was fine.

She took a pair of glasses for herself and one for the man who’d followed her before giving it to him and entering the open doorway.

What followed Connor’s voice was a weird feeling in the air, as if he said something of importance to her. He shook it away, believing it to be his own imagination, following her to the exit. In the silence that grew between them, he focused on not letting his mind wander so that the past couldn’t find its way in. The shadows around them clung onto Connor of his own accord, a source of security--a welcome distraction.

He never expected her to speak; her words cryptic. To the point. Tilting his head in confusion, Connor wondered what exactly her words meant. “How would you know if someone’s screaming isn’t? Don’t they all have the same effect?”

The hallways were Connor’s favorite part of the theatre. Looming with shadows he usually took to occupy the movie room seats with him. He allowed himself to trail behind her a bit further to take in his surroundings. She continued in the darker part of the hallway where he was more than happy to join her. He wondered why she had her head down; the position bristled him as he was a fan of exuding confidence. 

He grimaced at the bin. “Why movies need to go the extra mile to impress people is beyond me. So tacky.” As far as he knew, movies were better when one simply sat in front of it, allowing their imagination to weave its way into what was on the screen. She handed him a pair of 3-D glasses which he shifted from hand to hand. For a moment he glared at them before meeting her eyes. “Do we really have to do this? I mean, it’s all too much. Extremely juvenile. I love a good horror movie, but I wouldn’t be caught wearing this attack on eyewear.”

She had entered the doorway already. Great. Rolling his eyes, Connor followed her, glasses in hand. But he was not going to wear them.

[eclipseofargus-blog]

IM 📨 CONNOR

XAVIER: you'll get to refresh my memory

XAVIER: what the fuck are you gonna do with marshmallows? shove them up your ass? where's my dick supposed to go?

XAVIER: I do, because Rory doesn't get to share all my fun

ARGUS: hmmm...is that all? your memory isn't the only thing

ARGUS: ugh. no. it's a thing called positive reinforcement?

ARGUS: she won't know you have fun unless you show her

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion shrugged weakly, still pretending she was watching the movie, though her attention was definitely elsewhere. “I didn’t… want him to kiss me, so… My friend said it didn’t count as a first kiss.” She felt entirely stupid and naive, though she was just repeating what Sammy had told her. She wasn’t ashamed of her innocence, but she sometimes worried about how clueless she was.

“I know people don’t really get married anymore these days, but… I think it would be nice to feel like you belong to someone. Not– Not like a property, but like… like soul mates.” She was bracing herself for the moment he would start laughing at her words. This stranger clearly didn’t believe in marriage and she was starting to doubt he believed in love. “I mean, when you love each other, you don’t need marriage to prove that to anyone, but I still think it’s a lovely tradition…”

Her blush intensified at his words. She hadn’t been trying to argue with him. Not really, anyway. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t think I understand?” Her voice was barely audible over the music that sounded from the large speakers surrounding them. The ginger shrunk further into the chair as the other berated her. “I– I’m sorry…” She managed. “I just thought– I mean–” She nervously ran a hand through her hair and chewed on her lip again, brown eyes focusing on the giant screen again, though she had no clue what was happening in the movie anymore.

“I’m not confident…” She eventually muttered, as if that hadn’t been obvious yet. “I just asked, because–” Because she could relate. Because she wasted all her free time watching movies by herself or just sleeping, because she was so, so lonely. “I thought maybe we could… recommend each other movies… Or something…”

He didn’t believe there wasn’t much she didn’t tolerate? Why was that? “Well, um… I don’t… tolerate violence or… a lot of cussing? Just… bad things like– like bullying and hurting people and… stuff…” She almost added ‘lying’ to that list, but knowing very well she did that a lot, she decided not to add it. Better to not start being a hypocrite just yet. “Why… is it hard to believe I tolerate a lot?”

This stranger was innocent, Connor knew of that much, so it was best to tread lightly. He was once innocent himself, forgotten by his parents, wishing he had an ounce of advice to guide him. He sat back, watching the movie during her explanation, not once glancing at her as he replied: “If a friend told you the sky was green, would you believe them?” A kiss was a kiss, no matter what the experience was like. 

Connor snorted at the word “soulmates.” He was only a shadow, separated from his soul...as he wanted to believe. He couldn’t get his own love life together. If he--without a soul--couldn’t, then there was no hope for those who did. And what about those who believed in the idea of multiple souls for one vessel? There were no such thing as soulmates. Acts of coincidences, maybe. “Does love actually exist, or is it lust wrapped up with a shiny bow?” He turned to her at the question, eyebrow quirked and chin resting on his hand. This answer begged for his full attention.

Her blush had gotten deeper, a stop light in the dark. He could barely hear her, so he shrugged. If it were that important, she’d repeat herself. “Relax.” Her movements were so difficult to follow, “You nervous types give me a rash.” Was that Connor’s attempt at consoling her? An insult? He wasn’t so sure.

“Clearly.” Some had confidence and some didn’t. It could be learned, though. And here was the first step: claiming those unspoken words. “Because what?” He smirked as if he were the devil on her shoulder. “Tell me. I promise I won’t bite.” Recommending movies? He paused before rolling his eyes. “We’re not kids in the sandbox. I’m not discussing movies with you. But it sounds like you had something else in mind?”

“The usual. Boring.” Connor faked a yawn halfway through her list. “Because you’re a quiet type. And the quiet types have lots of things to say. They have...other ways of speaking.” He leaned over to her, wanting to take her chin in his hand so that he could observe her lip, where there were bound to be some bruises. He held himself back, lifting a finger to point to her bottom lip instead, close enough so that she might’ve been able to feel its warmth. “That lip. You bite it when you want to say something. When there’s something on your mind that doesn’t fit the way others might know you for...being shy and kind...and you shut down. Backtrack. So you do have other things you tolerate. My view on love, maybe? That stolen first kiss?”

[ironclxdalibi-blog]

an active crime ➻ o p e n

[eclipseofargus-blog]

ironclxdalibi:

His insides felt more alive than they did the last two years. Memories of the past strolling along the New York coastline flooded him like they were only yesterday. Connor’s hands slid across Mason’s waist, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt him deepen into the kiss and long for the press of their bodies. This was dizzying, confusing. Holding his breath, Connor never wanted to leave this moment - the fire inside of him, inside of them, was… real. 

Just when he was certain of it all, Mason disappeared before him, his clothes a pool of fabric on the ground.

Connor hardly knew how to react. His ribcage expanded, his heart sunken deep in the void. For a moment, he dropped to his knees, scooping up the clothes and cradling it in his arms like it were a new-born baby. This wasn’t ASH’s doing… was it? The galaxies in his skin, the sudden change in personality, the bitterness. How did this all happen…

No. It was him. It was Connor’s fault.

Sitting at the edge of the streetlight like it were the ocean, his back against the pole like it were his spine - wanting to stand tall, wanting to beam light, but utterly alone in this dark world - Connor held the clothes tight to his chest, unable to process it all. The urge to cry didn’t even float through him. Nothing was on his face but shock, crystalline in his expression. Everything was wrong. Everything was cruel. But this - this was the universe being kind to him for once.

He sat under the low light out of breath, thinking about the searing memories whirlpooling in him, dragging him deep into his thoughts.

The clacking sound of heels over concrete approached him. Connor looked up to see Evelyn looking down at him, her expression just as cold as his. She held a silent tension between them before speaking. “I need you right now, Mason.”

He did too. Connor needed him, too. As he held his clothes tight to his chest, inhaling into them, exhaling… he nodded. “I’ll be there in a bit. Just give me a moment.”

“No. I can’t wait,” she said.

Connor sat against the rubble of the low light for another second before he rose slowly, dragging himself into the darkness - outside the light - with nothing but Connor’s clothes against his heart, against the flames to keep them alive.

All Mason did was run from his problems. He either laughed them off, ignored them, or physically ran from them--as he did now. What was different, this time, was that he was still there. He couldn’t be seen. Or felt. But there in the void between reality and the imagined, he existed. He was watching.

The warmth he felt as he pressed against Connor was only temporary, leaving him hugging his bare body to savor what was left of it. Mason craved more of Connor, didn’t he? Like the swirls of his face, his mind was unclear. Here, in the beam of light--this beam of solitude--he cried openly, sniveling, wiping tears away with the backside of his hand. 

Why did Mason push people away?

There was something Mason felt around Connor...a passion. Formerly, it was negative, a feeling fed by revenge. And currently, it was, but something else was in its place. Something...

Don’t! Stay away! Mason wanted to scream at Connor’s approaching form, who was only less than a hair away from the shadow-turned-Invisible Man (if he realized it), scooping up the clothes from the pavement. Oh, how badly Mason wanted to run his hands through his own hair again...to pick up his own clothes...but his hands were useless. He was useless. 

Mason had planned to step out of the light and dress himself as he usually did (or leave the clothes there, avoiding the darkness as he escaped, hoping they’d be there the next day), however, Connor was already connected with the forgotten fabric. Shit. Give me back my clothes, Connor! I need you--them. I need them...Give them back so I never have to see you for as long as I live.

It was purely embarrassing, this moment, and Mason wanted to forget it ever happened. He was going to risk making a run for it, when a woman approached Connor from the crime scene. There was an exchange that he could barely hear through his sobbing; to see Connor inhale the scent of his clothes both elevated and crushed him. Soon, Connor was disappearing, fading away into the darkness as Mason did in the light. Sick, twisted irony!

Sugar? Sugar! Sugar, wait! Don’t you walk away from me! Get back here! And bring my clothes? I...I miss us too, okay? There. I said it. I said it! You can come back now!

All that was left for Mason  to do now was to appear on the doorstep of one of his hook-ups, pretending to surprise them with his unclothed body. Or he could stand under the light and wait for Connor to return. Which shouldn’t take too long, right?

[unicorion-blog]

giblets for the cat ✩ open

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion tried not to listen to the stranger when he called after her, but his words still got to her. Was she overreacting? Maybe the guy was really only interested in the cashier. Which was very likely, since she doubted he was interested in someone like her. Gosh, she had made a fool of herself, hadn’t she? Besides, he was right. She couldn’t just let her cat go hungry. Even if she gave him her food, he wouldn’t be eating enough or healthily, right? She was the worst owner, neglecting her child like that.

She put the things back on the shelves, while her mind was racing. What was she supposed to do? Should she just slip out of the store and pray she’d never run into either of those people ever again? No, she couldn’t possibly. Not when it involved Yitzhak.

Her cheeks were still burning with embarrassment when she returned to the check out, where she eyed the two males once again. Her voice was hushed as she awkwardly tugged at the customer’s sleeve and spoke to him. “What– Where did you want to meet again?” She could already imagine her cat’s crying all through the night, making it impossible for her to get some well-needed rest.

She couldn’t help but be slightly worried about what the stranger had in mind. And she didn’t particularly like to be out at night, especially when she was already exhausted like she was. But if it was for her cat…

What was she doing? She could just get the food elsewhere or get some cash to pay for it. But it would feel like she was rejecting a random stranger’s kindness, no matter how wicked.

Or was she just interrupting a moment between these two?

“I don’t… have much to offer, really. I can… pay you. I do have money, I mean.. I just don’t have it cash, you know? I just– Yitzhak needs food…”

Connor was in the middle of discussing a topic with Julio that would make anyone blush, when he felt a tug at his sleeve. Was it some kid? Who still tugged at sleeves? “One second.” He told the beyond-humiliated cashier, turning around to face the cat food stranger from earlier. Ah. He chuckled, shaking his head. “They always come back...” There was a pause before he leaned in close again. “Front door. Midnight. Don’t be late.” The store actually closed at eleven, but giving them an hour’s time was to make sure that other employees weren’t around.

With a quick spin, he faced the cashier again, startling him. “Change of plans, Julio. Looks like you’re going solo tonight. Don’t disappoint me. I’ll be calling to see how it went.” Connor laughed; it was unclear whether he was joking or not. Julio made a muffled cry, so ashamed.

He refocused on his new client, taking in her words, and frowned. “Money? Who said anything about money?” He never took money for his deals--as the currency seemed to come and go--so he took favors instead. They were more reliable and easier to hang over another’s head. If he ever needed anything, he had a list of people to call...

“As I said before, you’ll owe me a favor. What that favor is...I’ll have to find out. Know that...Yitzhak...right? And your other three million cats are thanking you. You should be proud.”

[eclipseofargus-blog]

unicorion:

Orion was infinitely glad the darkness around them hid the blush on her cheeks, though it couldn’t conceal her stutter in the same manner. “O-Oh, no, I haven’t. I’ve barely only been kissed..” Was that a stupid thing to just admit to a stranger? It really was, wasn’t it? “I– I mean–” Was there a way to make him forget she had ever said those words? Maybe it was the romance in the movie messing with her head – making her lose her filter just a little bit.

She turned her head to look at the screen again, though she supposed she no longer had to wonder what was going to happen next. “Have– Have you been married?” She asked quietly, wondering what could have happened to make this stranger have such a distaste for marriage. “I… I think it depends on the people. It works out or it doesn’t, I don’t think marriage in general is a bad thing.”

Would she like to get married? Yes. Yes, of course.

“Do you come here because you’re lonely?” God, what had happened to her filter today? “I mean, um, I– I love coming here myself, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t think I’d go see a movie I don’t like. And… yet you’ve seen it many times. And you still don’t like the ending, so.. I don’t know if that lesson in tolerance is working too well.” She bit down into her lip, hard, shutting herself up. 

Wasn’t she sounding smug while she was trying to be invisible, to not let anyone see how pathetic she was sitting there by herself?

“I apologize. That– That was very rude of me. I just don’t understand why you would choose to see this movie over and over, when there must be plenty of movies you haven’t seen that you will enjoy. I, uh… I have a fairly large collection, if you want any recommendations.” She managed a soft smile in the dark, which was momentarily illuminated by a bright scene on the screen. “And… there isn’t too much I don’t tolerate.”

Connor hid a laugh by pretending to check on his bag of popcorn. She was in what he liked to refer to as the “Disney Princess Stage,” where love was this wondrous thought and kisses were end-all-be-all. “Barely? You either kissed or you didn’t. You have a long way to go.” He shifted in his seat to face her, forgetting about the movie. This conversation was far more interesting. 

“Not a day in my life.” The thought of him being tied down to someone for a long time--when everything else in his life was fleeting--didn’t make sense. “I’m positive there are more factors to worry about. I think marriage is barely a thing.” He teased, twisting his features in mock seriousness.

The next question made him sit up from his seat, eyeing her in amusement. “Ooh, this timid little rabbit has claws! I like you already!” Of course he was lonely, but he wasn’t going to reveal that. At least, not until his life story was made into a movie. He rolled his eyes at the comment on tolerance, “That’s why it’s a lesson. Not a course in a master class.” Her lip was going to bleed if she bit it even harder; Connor played a game in his head, guessing how long she’d be able to keep that flesh in between her teeth. Not for long, because she was already speaking again.

“Don’t you ever confuse being confident with being rude.” The words came out harsher than he intended, only because he’d told himself the same thing repeatedly growing up. He softened greatly (as much as his personality would allow, anyway), and continued, “It’s not just this movie. I like to stay and watch about ten movies a day. You really shouldn’t offer something unless someone’s asked of it specifically. Another lesson.” He wagged a finger. She smiled softly, but he pretended not to see it. “Is that so? Why am I finding that so hard to believe?”

[ironclxdalibi-blog]

an active crime ➻ o p e n

[eclipseofargus-blog]

ironclxdalibi:

“No,” Connor sputtered weakly. As the word left his mouth, he chewed on the pink of his upper lip, his expression wrinkling into a frown. He slouched.

All was silent between them, but his heart still beat as fast as ever; Connor wanted nothing more than to kneel and offer the organ pulsating straight from his chest. Even though Mason had seemingly gave up on their relationship - that panged through him like a dull knife - Connor wanted to prove that there was something tangible between them. That those memories he’d cling to and relive in his dreams were real. That he’d been thinking of him permanently, staring at the ceiling loathing himself for what he did. That what they had… wasn’t dead. That maybe he felt the same.

Mason had always been strong willed and adamant about his goals, never flinching. It was if he always knew what to say, how to get what he wanted, and what to do at any given moment. At the cafe, when the waitress got his order wrong, dead-set on getting a promotion at work. He admired it all, encouraging him to do what was best for him. For all his life, Connor had always wondered how he could do that. He was tired of being stepped on and pushed away by everyone in his life. His work hardly needed him and he was squandering around in law school. And, now, Mason was slowly pulling away from him - as if there was nothing between them.

What about what he wanted - did anyone ever think of him? His fist clenched.

“No,” he said firmly, repeating it once more. “No.” His hands clenched Mason’s arm automatically, refusing to let go. Connor wasn’t going to let the person he loved walk all over him, push himself away, not without a fair conversation. “I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he restated. “I want you to come back home. And if you’re not, I’m going with you. Wherever you’re going. Until we know.”

His hand shivered into Mason’s, refusing to let go, tightening his grip at the smallest reflex. Two years and nothing, only to go to - this. Frustration rose in him, just desperate to have this talk. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Connor wanted to have this talk so badly, just sit on the same linen sheets from two years ago and embrace once more, kiss him passionately. As much as he wanted that… Connor didn’t have the strength to force Mason to do what he didn’t. Even though his grip was tight, he released the other, exhaling deeply.

Eyes tracing the ground, rubbing the back of his neck, Connor held the same frown as he did before. He was still the same unconfident person he was two years ago, still unsure of his life. But there was one thing he was certain of. “I can fix this,” he said, looking at the palm of his hand before gazing back at Mason. “We want our lives back. But don’t leave me without telling me we didn’t have anything, Mason. Stop acting like everything’s gone, when I know there’s still something between us. I still… I still…”

The world was mute around him, his vision around Mason a clump of bokuh dots, as he said the words aloud: l-o-v-e-y-o-u.

As he snagged on his arms once more, Connor’s lips crashed against Mason’s, his body warm with history, his organ beating.

Mason had half a mind to fix Connor’s posture. He was never one to slouch. It was unbecoming and gave others the wrong impression. Instead he simply watched, eager to see how this would play out. 

The silence between them was almost...comforting. Mason had said all he wanted to; there was nothing Connor could say that would change that. He wanted them to try and get to know each other again--instead of continuing where their relationship had been severed. If that were even possible; the anger Mason had been holding back would probably show itself eventually. He hated Connor for running off with his body, when he could’ve confronted the ASH. He hated Connor for trying so hard to make this work. 

“’No’? I’m beginning to think that’s the only word you know.” There was that tilt of Mason’s head. This time, with a little sneer. “Come on,” He coaxed, as if speaking to a baby, “Come on. Out with it, Connor. Tell me everything.” The sudden grip on his arms made Mason change his tune; he fell silent, unsure of where this conversation was headed. He loved this new...aggressive side of Connor, nearly falling to pieces in his arms right then and there. Home? That apartment was no longer Mason’s home. It reminded him of what he used to have. It reeked of longing. And he wasn’t going to drag Connor to an invite-only party. Was Mason stuck? There were only a few times in his life that he found himself stuck. Was this one of them? Hell no. “Then get comfortable, Connor, because we have a long wait here. It’ll be like watching those crime shows on TV?”

Mason readjusted his clothes once Connor let go of him. The other appeared to be so worn out. So much for aggression. He could’ve turned away and started running. Or slipped under the beam of light he stood on the outside of and vanished. Something was keeping him here. What? Did he want Connor to carry him to the apartment over his shoulder while he kicked and screamed? Did he have a sudden affinity for crime scenes?

Connor stared at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. If the two were still together, Mason would’ve lifted his chin and removed his hand from his neck, only because he hated his ex’s timidity...Mason’s fingers burned in response to that impulse, and he shoved his hands back into his coat pockets. Connor could do that on his own. Maybe.

“Right. And I’m the Statue of Liberty.” Mason spat, studying Connor’s face with unforgiving intensity. He’d go to a doctor about their situation before entrusting Connor with the task of fixing them. Don’t leave before telling me we didn’t have anything, Mason. Hey, if that’s what Connor wanted...Mason chuckled, opening his mouth to grant that wish, but the words wouldn’t...wouldn’t form. He gritted his teeth, hating himself for not being able to let go. Letgoletgoletgoletgoletgo.

He froze, blinking up at Connor. Did he hear what he thought he did? “You what?” Mason could do one-night stands. He could sleep with another for at least a week. But love? That “forever” shit? Nothing lasted forever! Nothing!

Before he could do anything, he was subjected to a kiss by Connor, who held him tighter than ever. At a compulsion of some sort, Mason started to kiss him back, his tongue sliding between Connor’s lips as easily as it used to, his hands moving to his ass to bring them even closer together...What was he doing, becoming a moaning wreck in Connor’s hold? What was he doing, letting the cycle continue? 

He broke away from Connor, accidentally fleeing under the beam of the streetlamp, watching hopelessly as his body faded away to nothingness and his clothes dropped to the concrete as if they weighed a ton. At least Connor couldn’t see the tears forming in Mason’s eyes at his stupid, stupid mistake.

[goodgrxff-blog]

the great ➻ open

[eclipseofargus-blog]

goodgrxff:

That danky coffin sitting centerfold was the last place Gordon ever wanted to stash himself away in for a good minute or two. Sure, it made for an interesting place to hook up, to say the least, but one could hardly breath its air, much less stand the mildew clustered on the inside. The crew babied the exterior, so much that the VIP tours - hah, what suckers - often had the patrons dumb and gooey, the gothic moldings searing in Snapchat technicolor. But with all the carefully placed suspensions strung along the inside, it was impossible to be comfortable in there.

Coffin his ass. Gordon slipped into the wings undetected, shrouding himself invisible with his magic, his illusion settling into the cavity of the box.

It was only a matter of time before his producers would seize him away to the dressing room, so Gordon got comfortable. Lounged around the sofa used in act one, kicked his feet against the parakeet cage - squawk down, Pollyanna - and kept his eyes focused on Connor like he were a camera.

For once, Gordon felt like an audience member as he sipped his Diet Coke and snacked on Cheez-Its. The show’s reins had spiraled from him, a bull free from its cage, a complete spectacle. He only wondered where it could spin, what pure destruction could arise from it, how the Captivating Connor could heed his words and continue the legacy.

Kid had presence; Gordon was living through him.

Perhaps this was too easy, too predictable. He hated when he could guess the ending. His show was growing stale after all. Captivating Connor would cast his wand, the coffin bursting with iridescent lights in streaks of light, and the ghost of Ayes-Sage would fly upwards. And some time after, the Great Griffin would appear in a billow of smoke, still alive.

He’d abandoned that script a long time ago. It was time to test how well Captivating Connor would do well under pressure. And, for that… Gordon had to become - “Ah-Ahaha,” his voice, eerie and maniacal, rang through the auditorium as Connor bowed to his final round of applause.

Gasps flew over the audience. One last edge-of-the-seat surprise.

With a lazy flick of the hand, Gordon made the silhouette of Ayes-Sage rise from the coffin, merely a phantom. The puppet looked down at Connor, its head busted, snapping to the side as its fingers prickled over the air. “You… would blindly… follow someone… who bears a legacy… no… a curse!” The puppet spat the words at Connor, cackling through the auditorium, holding the audience in its psychological grip. “You inherit his legacy… and the Griffin curse!”

Gordon could barely believe his own words - he’d practically destroyed the bible behind his character and violated some copyright law for intellectual property. But hell was he going to be some skeletal script: Gordon was mad with power as he realized what crazy shit he could pull off just imagining. It’d been too long. Much too long.

Now… how could Gordon make this one fucked up, unforgettable experience for his heir…

The puppet cackled, its voice echoing. Gordon took the opportunity of having everyone distracted to have pillars of smoke shoot up from the stage, coating it entirely. With a careful flick of the hand, he casted an array of illusions over the stage. Dark mist seeped from the coffin. The background stands warped into a twisted graveyard, the stage beneath them darker. The shadow of Ayes-Sage flew upward before a large purple dragon descended from the catwalk, glaring at Connor.

Strings, of course, attached to its spine. Couldn’t scare the children. The temptation to hide them was growing, but Gordon needed this to be his new marketable show - no scaring the children.

Even worse, Gordon hated the dragon’s mouth. Sure, the thing looked scary - robotically scary, like it could snap free at any moment and crush the stage below - but Gordon hardly had the energy to fix it. He was already straining himself with these large-scale illusions, as if he were moving multiple chess pieces in some claustrophobic space. His mind focused on one of the producer’s early concept art of a dragon that could be kid-friendly, and he snapped onto it. Creating anything would be too taxing, far too much.

Still… the dragon had a mouth shaped like a butt. Its mouth was below, but… it seemed all too incorrect. It was just like a misplaced ass.

There wasn’t much he could do. Gordon was nearly sweating, keeping himself composed, concentrating hard. He hoped to dear fucking God that Connor could at least play off this, impress him.

Oh, he was having too much fun with his heir. The kid deserved a long reward for at least humoring his twisted mind. Gordon desperately needed one too after this - he longed not to think, just to feel.

With one last trick up his sleeve, Gordon made the smoke around Connor dissipate into thin air the dark haze… in his place was the silhouette of the Great Griffin.

He had to be in the spotlight, whatever he could take.

“You still blindly follow your magician? I will see that you live with this curse so long as I live. I will take everything away from you.” God, this dialogue was pathetic. But it’d have to do. Ayes-Sage roared, crushing the coffin with its claw. Or so it appeared. The crew would be mad; they did spend a lot of time. It merely descended into the stage below.

God, this was tiring. Gordon wanted this to be effortless and free, hoping Connor could do something quick. He had an idea…

From where the coffin stood was a lone tome of spells. It levitated upwards towards Connor, flipping its pages to a spell: the one spell that truly banished the dragon spirit of Ayes-Sage thousands of years ago. Only for a masterful magician.

Fuck, he couldn’t hold any longer. Though he remained invisible, Gordon released the passive illusions he wore on his body, intensely focused just to keep the moving parts on stage cohesive. He’d slip any time soon…

Inhale, Griffin. Exhale. 

Inhale, Griffin. Exhale. 

Keep reading

Now what? Connor had “defeated the magistrate.” Had ascended to magician status. There was nothing left for him to do. He looked out at the rows of occupied seats, observing the faces who stared expectantly into his. Should he tell more jokes? Run offstage and perform smaller tricks for them? Teach yoga, or--

The audience gasped, their faces contorting slowly into versions of “The Scream” painting. Connor heard shouting that there was something behind him. The fuck? Gordon said nothing about any extracurricular activities onstage! Was finding an heir an excuse for Gordon to have someone take his place while he left the country, never to be seen again? Was he making Connor work for his sexy ass? 

Connor spun around to see the spirit of Ayes-Sage hovering above the coffin, battle-worn, saying something about a...curse? Okay. Connor was actually a part of Gordon’s fan club and heard nothing of the sort. Instead of throwing down the top hat and wand like he wanted to do, screaming a huge “fuck this” to everyone in earshot and running out of the room himself (where Tessa was probably still crying in the lobby), he stood his ground and played along. Don’t say he never did anything for the community.

“Ayes-Sage! Monstrous marionette of magic, what is this curse of which you speak?” Connor stood boldly before the puppet, “I, Captivating Connor, channeled your energy into this wand...earning my place as rightful heir! It is you who is blindly following...your way into a permanent grave!”

Smoke shot up from the stage. Some of the audience began to scream. Connor was lost in blankets of the vapor, his visibility low and tension high. Did he do something wrong for all of this to happen? The stage transformed into a more darker, haunted house-version of itself. Ayes-Sage vanished, and in his place was a dragon. On strings. 

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Was this ever going to end?!

Audience members panicked, despite the friendly-looking exterior of the beast. Come on, it wasn’t that bad. But calming down the audience was a priority; if they weren’t watching this shit, then Connor was doing this for nothing. And Connor hated wasting his time. “Everyone! We can’t let the darkness win! We have to be brave...no matter how long this is dragon on!” 

Connor grimaced inwardly at his joke--the screaming around him turning into laughter. Gordon was going to pay for this!

He studied the dragon. Clearly it was an animatronic mess. A cheaply-made piece of crap that was bound to fall apart at any second. Other than that, it...wait...did it have a butt for a mouth? Gah, this was too embarrassing! Connor facepalmed, playing it off as a straightening of his hat. Really? Really? That ass was better than his!

With the smoke billowing around the stage, hopefully no one would notice the dragon’s anatomy issue. As if on cue, the smoke was gone. The shadow of Gordon appeared, and Ayes-Sage spouted lines only found in Saturday morning cartoons. Someone was trying too hard to keep this dying show alive. 

“It is my destiny to carry on the majestic lineage! You won’t have much to take, demon, seeing as I do not bury myself in material possessions!” Which was a nicer way of saying: That dragon is more put together than me right now, and that’s saying a lot. I’ve lost everything! What the hell are you taking?

The coffin was then crushed to bits, startling the audience, leaving a book in its wake. Before Connor could move to retrieve it, it had levitated up to him, flipping through its own pages. The book stopped to a spell only for a masterful magician. As if Connor didn’t don Gordon’s hat twenty minutes ago. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Connor mumbled, showing off the book to the crowd, “Alas! A piece of the Great Griffin still lives! He has given us this grimoire from beyond the grave to aid us with our troubles! I’ll need the help of everyone in the audience for this one! Please, close your eyes and find your inner magic to defeat this dragon!” Anything to hide that hideous ass...

Once the audience had closed their eyes, Connor pointed the wand at the dragon’s mouth, watching as the same bolt of energy from before attacked the beast, clouds of smoke drifting from it. The dragon was lifted by its strings, up into the stage somewhere. 

“Look! The dragon has been defeated! I may be the Great Griffin’s heir, but even I need help sometimes! Thank you! Give yourselves a hand!” Connor bowed again as the audience, eyes open and ecstatic, kept clapping and clapping...

There was a fine line between garnering attention and being smothered with it. Connor wanted to get the hell off of that stage, pronto.

[eclipseofargus-blog]

mutedxmelodies:

All the world was a stage, and Evelyn Bellamy was no exception. Each of Evelyn’s memories was strictly classified in one of two “acts,” known creatively as Act One and Act Two; the split in the acts was a darkened void into which she dared not venture. And while she, during Act One, would have regarded this romance film with a lovestruck gaze and a dazzling smile, her Act Two self had crumpled her ticket five minutes in, eyes stormy.

The characters in the movie were singing. She hadn’t known this musical element of the movie existed when she’d bought the ticket; if she had, she would have opted for the 4-D horror movie instead. Horror films didn’t scare her anymore — in fact, they bored her — but boredom was much more preferable to the torture she was facing now.

She’d come here for an escape, but had received a cage. The urge to join in, to sing, to be free, smothered her from all sides until she couldn’t breathe for fear of giving in. She kept her mouth shut. No, no, she would not let the urge win, even if it meant losing consciousness…again.

She took a surprised breath when a man nearby spoke. He was talking to her. To her? Surprise pushed away the thought of singing, if only for a minute. This was just the distraction she needed. She didn’t mind the spoiler at all; she even flashed a smile at him in thanks.

Evelyn rose to her feet, and as she was moving past him, she bent down and whispered in his ear. It was too dark to write in the sketch pad she usually used to communicate, so she had to speak, but for once during Act Two, she didn’t mind.

“Let’s see the horror movie down the hall, then. Definitely won’t be sappy. You in?”

A musical. Every song was cheesier than the last. Better lyrics could be written by a child. The actors couldn’t sing, lip-syncing badly to altered tracks that made them sound like angels. The choreography was off. A plot didn’t exist. Connor winced at every slip-up he saw, wondering if he accidentally sat through a comedy. Or a parody. Good thing he had popcorn to eat--he was drowning out the movie with each bite.

Connor had never met anyone who appreciated a spoiler. Her smile was definitely contagious; he returned it, taking in her appearance. To him, she seemed like the type to enjoy musicals, singing along unapologetically in a soprano, earning her strange looks and hushes from the audience. So when she got up, whispering in his ear about seeing another movie, he frowned for a second. He’d definitely gotten her all wrong, but the contrast was intriguing. 

“You just read my mind.” Connor stood up eagerly, thankful for the excuse to leave. He promised himself he’d see every movie to its end. Since he was seeing this one again, the rule shouldn’t apply. Connor was sure he’d be here tomorrow at the same time, anyway. His life was cyclical. “That singing was so cringey to watch. Ugh, I’d rather hear people screaming. That way it doesn’t sound so weird if I do so in here.”