#vosuth

[lenle-g]

@vosuth reblogged your post:Tbirds Liveblog | Upside Down:

Excuse me all that but no mention of the hopeless non-chat and kiss?

yeah, it was meh

[navigatorsnorth]

@vosuth answered your question: Thought: while I’m out today should I get some...

Well, look, she may be your friend and worried that you don’t seem excited, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t. And unless she’s paying rent, it’s you place to do what you want.

The issue is more that I’m not looking forward to things per se. And maybe decorating a little would help? Idk. I feel like there needs to be at least something vaguely Christmas in the apartment at least...

@tenjounotora answered your question:Thought: while I’m out today should I get some...

If while you’re out and you see some you like, go for it, otherwise don’t worry about it. I was wondering the same thing today, but ended up not getting anything. I think I just don’t feel settled in my apartment to worry about decorating. *shrugs*

Maybe I’ll get one of those weird marble cutout trees like I saw the other week. They looked solid enough to brain somebody with and the notion amused me.  We’ll see how it goes I guess.

[nibenhutracycas]

👌

SEND ME 👌 IF YOUR MUSE THINKS MY MUSE HAS A NICE BUTT

“Aww thanks..just..no sniffing it, because that would be...odd..”

[thunderbirdscolonelcasey]

"I can't be in love with you!"

Colonel Casey looked at the man sitting next to her and then looked down at her hands which were twisting in her lap.  “I can say the same thing about you,” she said miserably.  “My love life is complicated as it is.”  

She looked up and laughed bitterly.  “I seem to be fated to fall in love with people where the whole relationship has to be platonic for one reason or another.”  Her hand came up and cupped his cheek.  “Can it really be two years since we first met?” she asked softly.  “I feel like I’ve known you all my life; and yet no time at all!”  Her hand dropped down to her lap again.

“I know what is and isn’t possible between us.  But I can’t lie.  I love you, but that hasn’t replaced my love for Lee.  I still love him very deeply.  But I love you as well.”  She sighed.  “God, why does love have to be so complicated!”

[hubedihubbe]

If Flier has places he likes to visit often, does that make him a... frequent Flier?

[thunderbirdscolonelcasey]

Vo knocked on Colonel Casey's door, carrying a tray with a teapot and cake on it. 'Colonel, are you busy?'

Casey looked up and smiled.  “Come in Vo!  You know I always have time for you!”  She smiled as she saw him with the tea tray.

“Especially when you come bearing tea and cake,” she said, moving to the comfortable sitting area by the fireplace and clearing the small table.  “It seems like ages since we had time to talk about anything other than missions!”

[the-mass-shitpost-effect-blog]

Moving On

@nibenhutracycas, @vosuth

The alarm blares on the bedside table. You wake, rub your eyes groggily, hit snooze and bury yourself under your duvet, hiding from the rest of the world. “Just five more minutes,” you mumble to an empty room, blearily peeking out from your duvet burrito to the wardrobe beside the door that leads to the en-suite bathroom. It takes you a moment to realise what you’ve just seen, and then you bolt upright, wide awake and alert, anxiety seeping into your bones.

You gaze, long and hard, at the suit hanging up on the wardrobe door. You haven’t worn it since your first wedding – a three piece suit, a blue so dark it’s almost black, with a white shirt and sky blue cravat that has a floral design embroidered into it. The silver cufflinks are laid on the table beside your alarm, with a silver tie pin in a small box next to the cufflinks. Your old wedding ring, the ring that had cemented your marriage to your deceased wife, is also on the bedside table, looped onto a simple silver chain. You always wear it against your chest, like a permanent talisman.

A smile begins to cross your face, and you lean back, letting the memories engulf you. All the years you spent with your wife, your children, and the births of your grandchildren and, eventually, your great-grandchildren. Holidays in a cottage in the Highlands of Scotland, trips abroad, Tracy Island, International Rescue. It all comes flooding back, and you feel tears begin to prickle at the edges of your eyes.

Finally, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, and almost go and put the suit on; but you stop. You look up at the painting hanging above your bed – a painting of your wedding day nearly seventy years ago, created painstakingly by your older brother as your wedding present from him and his own husband.

Instead of turning to the suit, you instead move over to the chest of drawers next to the wardrobe, pull out some boxers, socks, a T-shirt and some jeans, and quickly dress. You slip your sneakers on, and head out of the house. After all, your first destination of the day is only five minutes away.

When you arrive, the cemetery is empty. That’s a good thing. The church stands, tall and proud, guarding the bodies of the dead. You shiver as you pass through the gates – you have just crossed an important liminal boundary, one that separates the living from the deceased.

The dewy morning grass dampens your sneakers as you wind your way through and around the many gravestones, your right hand in the pocket of your jeans, rolling your old wedding ring between your fingers, the other by your side, holding a bunch of flowers to replace the old ones. It’s been two years since you last visited on your own. It takes almost ten minutes to find what you’re looking for, but you find it at last, and you stop. You sit on a nearby bench for a moment, your head in your hand (your old wedding ring, on its silver chain, is wrapped around your hand), contemplating what you’re going to say.

You stand, move in front of the grave, and just stay there in that position for a moment.

Silence.

Your mouth moves, almost before you’ve decided what to say. “I’m getting married today. I guess that’s a good thing.” Tears begin to prickle at the edges of your eyes again, one falling down your cheek. You crouch down in front of the gravestone, running your fingers across the name engraved into it.

You sigh. “I miss you.” You sit down, not caring that the grass is damp and will inevitably soak through your jeans and boxers. “I wish I could talk to you, just one more time. You know, a conversation where you could actually talk back. Then I’d be able to ask you if you’re happy for me.” You sniff, wiping your eyes. “I can’t stay stuck in the past. I need to move on. It’s been nearly twenty years since you died, anyway.”

Glancing around, you see a figure standing nearby, slightly hunched over. You smile – you already know who it is. Turning back to the grave, you say, “I hope you’re happy for me. I need to do this, I need to move on. I’m lonely, I need companionship, despite the fact that all my partners will eventually die and I’ll be left alone, again and again, because of my biology.” You look at your wrist communicator as it buzzes, and you open up the message.

Eva’s told me where you are. I hope you’re okay. See you later x (tell her I said hi, too) (love you)

You smile wider, and close the message. You take the old flowers out of the vase that stands next to the grave, cemented into the grave so that it doesn’t topple in stormy weather, and replace them with the bouquet you brought with you – all bright yellow: geums, daffodils, flowers from the achimenes plant, primroses, crocus, marigolds, a few magnolias, some yellow roses, and her favourite – a large sunflower. Once you’re finished rearranging them, you stand up, pulling your T-shirt over the large damp patch on your backside from the dewy grass, and place a hand on top of the grave. “I love you,” you murmur. “Vo says hi, by the way.” You blush, grinning to yourself – you feel like butterflies are fluttering about in your stomach. “If you can see me, then you know who it is I’m getting married to today. I love him.” You pause, look down at your old wedding ring, wrapped around your hand on its silver chain, and then crouch back down, and loop it through one of the handles on the vase. You have the original at home, of course – your job had demanded that you and your deceased wife have multiple copies, in case they got lost – so you feel no guilt in leaving the grave that bears her name with your ring hanging from the handle of the vase, its chain swaying gently in the morning breeze. “Goodbye, Nibs.”

You approach the figure that stands nearby (of course it’s Eva – only your daughter knows where you would have been, after all), and you both embrace; finally, you let yourself break down, and you sob, holding on to Eva with everything you have. She holds you close, rubbing your back soothingly and whispering words of comfort into your ear.

Everything is going to be alright, you realise, and you smile as you leave the graveyard with Eva, her arm wrapped around your waist and your arm draped over her shoulders, your cheeks damp with tears, and your eyes red and bloodshot. After all, it is your wedding day

[nibenhutracycas]

📱

SEND 📱 FOR A LATE NIGHT TEXT FROM MY MUSE.

[Text] Vo, I can’t get to sleep, there’s someone drunk outside my window serenading me, it’s kinda funny but I need sleeeeeep, any tips?