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theshelbyclan · 4 years

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Defiance

Summary: When your brothers went off to war, you couldn’t just sit and wait for them: you had to work, so as nurse Shelby, you started nursing in London

(Gif by @nofckingfighting)

A/N: Anon requested: Hello, I saw that you write Shelby sister imagines? Is it ok for you to do me one please? I always imagine her being the same age as John and very close to Tommy. I was thinking along the lines of when the boys go to war she goes to a hospital in London dealing with soliders who need rehabilitation and help with PTSD. She doesn't come home until a year after the boys? Here's they are in trouble with Campbell and Billy Kimber Obviously take it wherever you like to I'm happy for whatever x I’m making this a two-part story, to be able to combine two different requests that had a lot of similarities. I’m using your request for the first part, and let me just say, this is such a beautiful idea that it deserves to be a film on its own. Hope I did it justice! :) Part 2 is Acceptance

Warning: mentions of death, war and suicide.

Words: 3107

***

“I will not,” defiantly you stood in front of your superior, arms crossed in front of you and a rebellious scowl on your face. “Excuse me?” the head nurse turned around to face you, “This again, nurse Shelby?”

For a moment, you faltered. Going against a senior nurse was something that wasn’t tolerated, at all. And with good reason! The hospital wouldn’t be able to function properly. During the war, it’d been constant chaos, with men coming in and going out constantly. Dying was often a blessing, and there had been so much, so much death. But the war was over and still the men kept on coming.

“I’m not trying to rebel, nurse Miller,” you said, more meekly this time, “I just don’t see how this is going to help any of them.” “Doctor says it works,” nurse Miller replied matter-of-factly. “But does it?” some fire was coming back into you, “They are able to talk and walk again, sure, but that’s not the same as recovery, is it? The problem is not of a physical nature, it’s a mental struggle these men face.” The head nurse looked up from her work and turned fully towards you now, “Remember your place, nurse Shelby. Do as you’re told. Go on, off with you.” “What research has really been done concerning these…” you waved your hand in an annoyed manner, “methodsthat the doctors employ these days!” Thoroughly irritated now, nurse Miller dropped her work and one look told you all you needed to know: you were in trouble. Again. And so you were back to scrubbing bedpans yet again. All nurses were required to do this work and the long days without much sleep had hardened you all to the blood and filth. Still, some nurses were given this job more than others. Especially the nurses who couldn’t control their mouths around their superiors. Silently, you cursed your Shelby spirit.

But then your mind drifted off to the subject you had been discussing with nurse Miller and your blood began to boil again. ‘The soldier’s heart’, that’s what they used to called it. These were the men who could never sit still, felt anxious all the time and were constantly on edge. It had been considered a ‘normal’ condition for decennia, but it had taken on the form of an epidemic after the Great War. Brave men could no longer function and the severe psychological trauma haunted most of them still, even though the war had been over for several months now! ‘Shell-shock’ was now the popular term and doctors everywhere tried to fix the physical symptoms of the condition. You simply couldn’t fathom how none of them seemed to acknowledge that these were just symptoms: the real problem had taken root in the brain or the heart, maybe even in the soul.

“What did you do this time?” Daisy, or nurse Wells as was the proper term, asked you, when she saw you sitting on your knees in front of piles and piles of bedpans. You looked up and grinned sheepishly, “I disagreed with nurse Miller.”

“Again.” “Again,” you admitted contritely. Daisy put down the towels she had taken in for washing, “If you’re going to disagree with anyone, choose someone less uptight! Might save your knees.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Daisy was the perfect nurse: she could function on two hours of sleep a night, see the most horrific stuff and still work on tirelessly, while aiming to make the others smile. Where you’d be without Daisy you didn’t even dare think about. “Alright,” she sighed good-naturedly, “Tell me. What did you argue this time? And tell me you’re sorry afterwards, just to practise!” Full of anger, you threw down the brush, “Electro-shock therapy doesn’t fucking help anyone! These men went to hell and back and now their brains are protesting against all the horrors they witnessed. Their minds are revolting, as they should be! The only thing ever accomplished by shocking the men into talking again or walking again is that you’ve taken away their last manner of protesting against inhumane practises. Bravo! You’ve made them into full human bombshells now, without a peep of opposition. How in the fuck is that even medically sound!?” Daisy waited a moment, “So you’re not actually sorry.” “Fuck, no.”

She looked around the door for a second and then whispered, “Fuck.” Your head shot up and you grinned broadly, “Nurse Wells, what did you just say?” “I suddenly felt brave,” she shrugged a little, “thought I might be brave enough to say the F-word, with just you here to hear me.” Full of theatrics you stood up and offered her your hand, “I congratulate you earnestly. You have now crossed a line. Welcome to the fucking party!” Beaming, Daisy tried to scold, “You’re a bad influence on me.” “You should see the rest of the Shelby clan,” and a sudden pang went through you the very moment you had spoken the words. Your friend noticed at once, “Y/N, when are you going back?” “Can’t abandon the men now,” you said briskly, leaving very little room for discussion. Daisy hesitated and finally asked, “They did all come back from France, didn’t they?” “Yes.” “When did you hear?” Scrubbing again, you replied, “I never heard, but I’d know if something had happened to them.” Daisy nodded: she knew you well enough to know your instincts never failed you, even if it got you in trouble. A lot.

***

You were lying in bed and even though the shifts weren’t as long as they’d been during the war, sleep was still scarce. Many of you got five to six hours of sleep now, which had been unimaginable during the war! Still, exhaustion wasn’t unfamiliar to any of you and when the nurses hit their pillows, they often slept at once. Still, you were wide-awake at this very moment. When the war started, it didn’t take long for the boys to sign up. Your brothers went, full of energy and bravery and all women were left grieving at home. Ada kept her mind off it, something you were never good at. You couldn’t bear the thought of all these men dying out at the front, and for what? No one seemed to know. But aunt Polly had really send you over the edge. Every morning she got up to pray and at first you had joined her, but unrest had grown inside of you and praying simply wasn’t enough anymore. So, just like your brothers, you had decided and left for training in London. There was no arguing with you and no one tried.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the things you’d seen during your time here as a nurse. The broken men, shattered limbs, blood and gore and death were easy enough to get used to. That thought alone made you frown in confusion: what has become of us, that we think that’s the easy part? But the endless streams of young men, hopeful men once, now broken and shattered like the fields of France themselves, that was the hard part. You fed them, nursed them, mended them, talked to them and held their hand if they went. And each and every face changed the moment just before they died: they were all one of your brothers. They were still alive. Aunt Polly had the gift of second sight and even though you weren’t sure what to believe, you had some of it too. Either way, you would’ve known if they were dead. But what were they like now? Because that was the real reason you daren’t go back to Small Heath. What is they were like some of these men, like ghosts trapped in the body of a once healthy human being? You wouldn’t be able to cope.

People always said that twins have a certain connection. You and John had never noticed anything of a special connection, apart from a certain gift for squabbling. But once he was at the front, when the bombs started falling, you could hear his screams in your mind. That’s when the connection had suddenly kicked in and it kept you up and made you tear your hair out for fear. God was cruel like that. “Are you a Shelby or not?” you suddenly whispered strictly to yourself. “Who is this, cowering away in London and fearing what she might see at home? Be a grownup and fucking face your family!” But something just stopped you.

***

For the next couple of weeks, you tried to get back into the swing of things. You worked harder than ever, with your exhaustion as a form of atonement. Daisy was worried and even nurse Miller told you to slow down at some point.

And then you sat next to a bed of a dying soldier. Your shift had finished already, but still you’d refused to leave him. And why? Because he reminded you of Arthur. “Nurse?” he asked feebly. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts roaming about, “I’m here,” you comforted him. “I can’t see,” he said, “Is that normal?” You took his hand, “I’m right here. Can you feel my hand?” He grabbed it a little tighter, “Yes. You have soft hands.” You smiled warmly at him. He asked again, “Nurse?” “Yes.” “When I get better,” he tried to sit up a little, “Can I maybe take you out some time?” He sure as hell wasn��t the first one to ask, so his request didn’t embarrass or shock you in the slightest. You tried to put on a chipper voice, imitating Daisy, “I don’t know. It depends, I suppose: where would we go?” The wounded soldier smiled, “I can take you to the movies. That’s what the Americans call it, did you know? The movies…” You couldn’t help but smile, “Which film would we go to?” “I’ll take you to that new romantic film, the one with that famous American actor.” “You quite like the Americans, don’t you?” you joked. He smiled again, suddenly revealing how handsome he actually was, “Americans, they have a way with women.” “So do you!” “Does that mean you’ll go with me?”

“When you get better, we’ll go to the movies,” you confirmed. But he didn’t get better. The next day, he was back to his ailing and screaming. The trouble with his mind was that sometimes the fragments seemed to recompose again and he was as sane as any man, but at other times, the war bombed his soul. His physical injuries were extensive and his chances of survival were slim. Still, the doctor was adamant on trying shock therapy on him, thinking it might help with both his physical and psychological ailments. You didn’t agree, but kept your mouth shut for once. Still, you screamed into your pillow the next night, feeling so fucking helpless at the sight of pointless suffering. The next morning, nurse Miller send you over to that soldier once again to change his bandages. All light had left his eyes. Practically inaudibly, he said, “Nurse?” “I’m here,” you took his hand again in yours. “Would you’ve done it? Would you’ve allowed me to take you out?” “Of course!” you exclaimed, “Not every day a handsome young man asks a girl like me out!” He paused for a moment, “Honestly?” “Honestly,” you said. Suddenly, he relaxed and fell back into the cushions. You frowned a little though, slightly worried about why he was no longer sure of his recovery. But there was more work to be done and you had to be on your way again. When nurse Miller told you he’d gotten hold of a razor somehow and killed himself in the night, something inside you shattered. That was it. You were done. ***

On the train to Birmingham, you couldn’t help but think about how much you’d changed. Once a Small Heath gypsy, being on edge about not being useful enough, you’d left full of innocence. Well, maybe not innocent, you were a Shelby after all. But you’d grown up being protected by young brothers, fighting them and others constantly, and still you considered your childhood a happy one. The amount of times you’d screamed at them, “I’m not a child anymore!” was insane, but only now you felt like that sentence was justified. The war had changed you too. Quickly, you’d send Aunt Polly a telegram before departing London. It said: ‘I’m coming home. Still alive. Make sure the boys save me some whiskey.’ She wouldn’t be pleased with a message like that, but you couldn’t wait to deal with the consequences again. Stepping off the train and back onto familiar ground felt like entering a dream. Oh, how you had missed the stench and noise! Without a thought, you took off your shoes and walked barefoot through the muddy streets. Watch out, Birmingham, you thought cheekily, the pauper princess is back! All nerve left you as soon as it’d come when you stood in front of your house at Watery Lane. And while you were still plucking up the courage to open the door, it swung wide open and nearly hit you square in the nose. A flash of green came rushing out and two arms squeezed the life out of you. “Where the hell have you been?” they demanded. Softly, you breathed in the smell of her perfume, “Fucking working, Ada, unlike you.” “Aunt Pol is going after you with the wooden spoon and I won’t lift a finger to save you,” she scolded, without letting go. You rolled your eyes into your sister’s hair. And then you suddenly noticed, “Looks like you’ve been busy as well!” Ada stepped back and looked down, “Seven months. Can’t even see my toes anymore, I’ve gotten so fat.” “Not much to look at anyways,” you commented. Ada slapped your shoulder and you winced. At least nothing had changed between you two.

With Aunt Polly it was an entirely different story. As soon as you walked into the house, she froze and fixed you with one of her stares that could make empires crumble. You could feel your shoulders slumping, your heart racing and you held your breath. Nothing had changed there either: it was like you were eight years old again. Slowly, she walked over to you and took a long hard look at you, never releasing eye contact. Then she grabbed your face and you almost winced, but instead she said, “You need to eat. Sit.”

Not hesitating, you obeyed at once. Without a word, she threw your telegram on the table. The silence was filled with anxiety-fuelled electricity and she let you calmly simmer in it for a few more moments. Then she spoke, “You have ten seconds to explain, before I slap you back to London myself.” So you took a big gulp of breath and explained, “I got into another fight with the head nurse and then everything went to shit and I didn’t know what to do, because I felt guilty, because he died and I fucking cannot with those doctors, because I knew work would be hard and I signed up for it, but all of a sudden I was just done, and I wanted to come back sooner, but I was scared Tommy and Arthur were dead and that John was, well I wanted to come sooner but didn’t know how to come back, and also I was you know scared that you might not take it well, and how I left, and yeah well, I was afraid this was going to happen…” “Leave her be,” Ada said to your aunt, “She’s worn out.” “It’s been eight months since the war ended,” Aunt Polly said, her face still not betraying any emotion, “We thought you were gone.” “I’m okay, Pol,” you said carefully. “How the fuck were we supposed to know?” She burst out, “No note, no letter, nothing. And now you think you can just show up, like the queen of fucking Birmingham, after writing some shitty telegram that made me drop my favourite teacup?” “Oh no, the blue one?” you asked. Ada glared at you, her eyes saying: not the right fucking response right now. So you cast your eyes downwards, “I’m sorry, Pol. The work, it just drags you in. I kept on seeing their faces in all the wounded soldiers I took care of. It was the only way I could cope.” Aunt Polly’s face softened a little, “It’s the waiting. The waiting almost killed the women.”

Images of wartime nightmares flashed in front of your eyes. Waiting was the thing you were terrible at, as it turned out. It ate you up inside, and now you’d done it to them. Finally, Aunt Polly’s reaction made sense.

“Forgive me,” you pleaded.

Your aunt walked over to the table and sat down next to you. She took your hand in hers and a wave of reassurance washed over you, “You’re like a working horse. They go crazy when they rest. You leaving shouldn’t have come as a surprise to us. It’s good to have you back. Welcome home, Y/N.”

No longer able to contain yourself, you flung yourself forwards and hugged your aunt. Tears fell from your eyes and finally, ease came over you.

Then you heard voices from the other room. Arthur’s voice first, loud and angry. He hadn’t changed much either then, perhaps a little angrier than before. Then Tommy’s reply, cold and business-like. He sounded like dad now. Finally your twin: John laughing like he was still playing in the gutter. For a few minutes, you didn’t move. You just listened to them and revelled in their sounds. These were the sounds of brothers, still alive, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

“Billy Kimber has a bloody army!” Arthur shouted.

You looked towards Ada for some kind of explanation, but she just rolled her eyes. Aunt Polly sat back and lit a cigarette. The fact that she gave that one to you, before lighting another for herself, showed she now thought of you as an adult as well. The moment was brief, but so intimate.

With a bang, the door slammed open en Arthur came storming in. Tommy was sighing deeply and still cursing right behind him, and through the open door you could see John. They all froze when they saw you, all at the same time, jaws practically hitting the floor.

“Billy Kimber, eh?” you merely said, “Looks like I showed up just in time.”

***

Masterlist

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geckosong · 3 years

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Anime Recommendations

Here is a list of ten anime (in no particular order) that are definitely worth watching, yet don’t seem to get nearly as much recognition as they deserve.

Terror in Resonance (2014)

This is my personal favorite anime and I push people to watch it whenever I can, which is exactly what I’m doing here.

This show is set-in present-day Tokyo, which has been decimated by a terrorist attack, and the only hint to the identities of the culprits is a bizarre video uploaded on the internet. For the majority of the show the plot follows two different narratives: those of the investigators tasked with bringing down the terrorists, and of the terrorists themselves.

My Rating: 10/10

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun (2020)

This anime is probably one of my favorites, if not my number one, in terms of art style. I love everything about the character designs and the colors used. It is just so soothing to look at.

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms, she will grant her summoner any wish. When Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

My Rating: 8/10

Kids on the Slope (2012)

If you love jazz, or history, or even heartwarming tales of friendship then this is the show for you. I will admit that is has a bit of a slow start, but by the time you get to the end you’ll be wishing for more.

In 1966, introverted classical pianist and top student Kaoru Nishimi has just arrived in Kyushu for his first year of high school. Having constantly moved from place to place since his childhood, he abandons all hope of fitting in, preparing himself for another lonely, meaningless year. That is, until he encounters the notorious delinquent Sentarou Kawabuchi.

Sentarou's immeasurable love for jazz music inspires Kaoru to learn more about the genre, and as a result, he slowly starts to break out of his shell, making his very first friend. Kaoru begins playing the piano at after-school jazz sessions, located in the basement of fellow student Ritsuko Mukae's family-owned record shop. As he discovers the immense joy of using his musical talents to bring enjoyment to himself and others, Kaoru's summer might just crescendo into one that he will remember forever.

My Rating: 6/10

Hyouka (2012)

Energy-conservative high school student Houtarou Oreki ends up with more than he bargained for when he signs up for the Classics Club at his sister's behest—especially when he realizes how deep-rooted the club's history really is. Begrudgingly, Oreki is dragged into an investigation concerning the 45-year-old mystery that surrounds the club room.

Accompanied by his fellow club members, the knowledgeable Satoshi Fukube, the stern but benign Mayaka Ibara, and the ever-curious Eru Chitanda, Oreki must combat deadlines and lack of information with resourcefulness and hidden talent, in order to not only find the truth buried beneath the dust of works created years before them, but of other small side cases as well.

My Rating: 6/10

Tonari no Seki-Kun: The Master of Killing Time (2014)

I absolutely adore this show. The episodes are only about 8 minutes long, and there is very little talking, yet the story still comes through perfectly. It never fails to brighten my day when I’m feeling down.

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

My Rating: 9/10

Classroom of the Elite (2017)

On the surface, Koudo Ikusei Senior High School is a utopia. The students enjoy an unparalleled amount of freedom, and it is ranked highly in Japan. However, the reality is less than ideal. Four classes, A through D, are ranked in order of merit, and only the top classes receive favorable treatment.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji is a student of Class D, where the school dumps its worst. There he meets the unsociable Suzune Horikita, who believes she was placed in Class D by mistake and desires to climb all the way to Class A, and the seemingly amicable class idol Kikyou Kushida, whose aim is to make as many friends as possible.

While class membership is permanent, class rankings are not; students in lower ranked classes can rise in rankings if they score better than those in the top ones. Additionally, in Class D, there are no bars on what methods can be used to get ahead. In this cutthroat school, can they prevail against the odds and reach the top?

My Rating: 7/10

The Morose Mononokean (2016)

The start of Hanae Ashiya's high school career has not been easy—he has spent all of the first week in the infirmary, and his inexplicable condition is only getting worse. The cause of his torment is the mysterious fuzzy creature that has attached itself to him ever since he stumbled upon it the day before school began.

As his health continues to decline and the creature grows in size, Hanae comes across a flyer advertising an exorcist who expels youkai. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, he calls the number and is led to the Mononokean, a tea room which suddenly appears next to the infirmary. A morose-sounding man, Haruitsuki Abeno, reluctantly helps Hanae but demands payment afterward. Much to Hanae's dismay, he cannot afford the fee and must become an employee at the Mononokean to work off his debt. And to make things worse, his new boss is actually one of his classmates. If Hanae ever hopes to settle his debt, he must work together with Abeno to guide a variety of dangerous, strange, and interesting youkai back to the Underworld.

My Rating: 6/10

Beyond the Boundary (2013)

Another of my favorite aesthetically pleasing anime, this show has been the one that I show to friends who claim that anime cannot be beautiful (yes, several of my friends have actually said things along that line).

Mirai Kuriyama is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing "youmu"—creatures said to be the manifestation of negative human emotions. One day, while deep in thought on the school roof, Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. Eventually, Akihito also manages to convince her to join the Literary Club, which houses two other powerful Spirit World warriors, Hiroomi and Mitsuki Nase.

As the group's bond strengthens, however, so does the tenacity of the youmu around them. Their misadventures will soon turn into a fight for survival as the inevitable release of the most powerful youmu, Beyond the Boundary, approaches.

My Rating: 7/10

Mekakucity Actors (2014)

I think about this show far more than I’d like to admit. The way they bring different plot lines together continues to amaze me 6 years after watching it for the first time.

On the hot summer day of August 14, Shintarou Kisaragi is forced to leave his room for the first time in two years. While arguing with the cyber girl Ene who lives in his computer, Shintarou Kisaragi accidentally spills soda all over his keyboard. Though they try to find a replacement online, most stores are closed due to the Obon festival, leaving them with no other choice but to visit the local department store. Venturing outside makes Shintarou extremely anxious, but the thought of living without his computer is even worse. It's just his luck that on the day he finally goes out, he's caught in a terrifying hostage situation.

Luckily, a group of teenagers with mysterious eye powers, who call themselves the "Mekakushi Dan," assist Shintarou in resolving the situation. As a result, he is forced to join their group, along with Ene. Their abilities seem to be like pieces of a puzzle, connecting one another, and as each member's past is unveiled, the secret that ties them together is slowly brought to light.

My Rating: 8/10

Angels of Death (2018)

You totally want to get emotionally attached to cereal killers, right? Of course you do, that’s why you should totally watch this anime.

With dead and lifeless eyes, Rachel Gardner wishes only to die. Waking up in the basement of a building, she has no idea how or why she's there. She stumbles across a bandaged murderer named Zack, who is trying to escape. After promising to kill her as soon as he is free, Rachel and Zack set out to ascend through the building floor by floor until they escape.

However, as they progress upward, they meet more twisted people, and all of them seem familiar with Rachel. What is her connection to the building, and why was she placed in it? Facing a new boss on each floor, can Rachel and Zack both achieve their wishes?

My Rating: 7/10

Bonus: Stars Align (2019)

I am adding one extra because this anime deserves so much more than it got. I adore every single character in this show and want nothing but to see them be happy. There is so much I adore about this show that I can’t put it all into words. I would recommend you watch this so you can share in my rage that the story was cut off halfway through with no current plans of completing it. There is no manga. There is no way of knowing what happens next. This recommendation is entirely for the purpose of generating more public outcry in the hopes that that causes them to finish the show. Please anime gods, if you are reading this I need to know what happens to my smol tennis boys. Are they safe? Are they alright?

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members,

Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

This story focuses on the potential of the boys' soft tennis club and their discovery of their own capability, while also enduring personal hardships and dealing with the darker side of growing up in middle school.

#anime #anime recommendation #zankyou no terror #terror in resonance #toilet bound hanako kun #kids on the slope #hyouka #tonari no seki kun #my neighbor seki #classroom of the elite #the morose mononokean #beyond the boundary #mekakucity actors #angels of death #stars align

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foxofthedesert · 4 years

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RedQueen & Mythology Part 2

Hey, @loudestdork, guess what? Here I am again, this time at 4 am, because your fucking glorious manip has me obsessing over this brilliant little universe where Regina and Ruby are Hades and Persephone. I don’t know whether I should love you or hate you for fueling this hopeless addiction.

While I decide about that, you can read the latest installment. I can’t promise any more but holy shit there are so many ideas to play with. Hope you enjoy it you absolutely magnificent enabler!

Also, please forgive the song insert at the end. It has long been an earworm and this was the perfect ficlet, IMHO anyway, to use it in. The song is “Listen To The Wind” by James Horner (one of my most favorite film composers and I was utterly devastated when he passed) for the Terrence Malick film The New World. The whole score is incredible, but this one in addition to “An Apparition in the Fields...” are the standouts for me. I’ll post the URL to the referenced song after the ficlet. Give it a listen if you are a James Horner fan or a connoisseur of film scores in general.

“Would you please stop? Your needless fretting is tying my stomach into knots.”

Clutching the sheets to her bare chest, Ruby observes her spouse’s restless pacing as anxiety crawls up her spine. She hates this time of year – a twist of fate she could never have predicted when she was a maiden free to roam the Earth at her leisure.

Before she was married there were no seasons. The land was healthy and green year around. Birds and butterflies and wolves, her very favorite animal, flocked to her side, forgetting their natural impulses in the presence of Ceres Eugenia’s progeny. Ruby always had an affinity for animals and had always felt as if she were a part of their various cycles. When younglings were born she rejoiced in song and danced in celebration, and when they perished she mourned as if having lost a member of her family.

Common sense should therefore dictate that she prefer spring over autumn if only to spare herself the grief of watching the whole world die year after year in endless repetition. And yet nothing could be further from the truth. Already a thousand years have passed since she struck the eternal bargain with Jovia Zelena to bind her to Dīs. A thousand years she has observed the flora and fauna endure the frigid snows and gales of winter. A thousand years she has buried her four-legged friends in the frosty loam and held vigil over millions upon millions of trees and flowers and insects alike as they struggled, often fruitlessly, against the remorseless cold intent upon feeding the insatiable engine of death. She has cried enough tears in that millennium to replenish both the Mediterranean and Aegean were they to succumb to a terminal drought and still she would rather endure another rather than spend the coming six months away from her beloved.

Speaking of Regina, as she stops abruptly and swirls around, Ruby can’t help but notice that her sheen toga clings wonderfully to her curves and that the part in the garment has separated to reveal nearly the whole length of a shapely leg her lips long to taste. Eyes blazing, hands on her hips, raven hair spilling over her shoulders, Regina cuts such an impressive and irresistibly handsome figure that Ruby can hardly keep herself from drooling. And how very embarrassing that would be!

Not for the first time, she silently contemplates how anyone with functioning vision and a shred of reason could choose Venus as the fairest of them all. Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow; surely Ruby’s closest childhood friend possessed all of those physical virtues and more, yet even Venus Mater Caelesti – known to those who lover her as Nix Alba (or in the common tongue Snow White) – failed to compare with the banished goddess that all with breath either feared or loathed.

In the vaulted halls of Olympos they derisively referred to the ruler of the Underworld as Regina a Malo, the Evil Queen. But to Ruby she will forever be Regina in Corde Meo, the Queen of My Heart.

Survival for half the year without the sovereign owner of her love and devotion is a torture so unbearable that the Deam Optimus Maximus is no doubt thrilled that her faux attempt at leniency was failing so spectacularly. Were it not for the unyielding support of her mother and Snow, she cannot imagine how she would even function.

True Love, as it turns out, is not only a source of unimaginable happiness but also of indescribable misery.

“Needless fretting?” Regina says, responding to Ruby’s request in a less than accommodating tone. “In less than a fortnight you will leave me once again to the mercy of my imaginations. I can do nothing else but fret when you are not by my side! Beyond the borders of Dīs I cannot protect you, cannot watch over you, cannot...”

“Hover like a mother hen over her chicks?” Ruby supplies, interrupting in an attempt to forestall her wife’s spiraling descent lest she succumb to one of her abyssal depressions.

There is scarcely anything to be done when the darkness has taken hold of Regina in earnest. In such instances, Ruby does what she can to provide whatever comfort her ailing partner will accept. Usually space and time are required for Regina to wrestle off the impossibly heavy blanket of sadness that has engulfed her. But sometimes she lets Ruby sing to her until the fog lifts or hold her hand while they go for a walk through the Fields of Gladness or the Blessed Groves. When the despair becomes too much, Regina will curl into Ruby’s body while they lie abed and it is all she can do during those evenings to keep from empathetically sobbing as her beloved trembles miserably in her arms.

Thankfully Ruby has discovered through trial and error that humor is a method of dispelling Regina’s souring moods that is effective more often than not.

“I resent that comparison,” Regina says, brows furrowed in objection. Ruby breathes a sigh of relief, though, when her shoulders relax into a more neutral posture. “For your information I am nothing like your disgustingly virtuous mother, and I’ll thank you not to imply such again any time in the near future.”

“Aww. Don’t be cross, love. I meant no disrespect,” Ruby says, then invitingly pats the empty space beside her. “Now, be a good girl and come back to bed.”

One sable eyebrow quirks up as Regina eyes Ruby with a small grain of incredulity. “’A good girl’? Do you address Zelena with such remarkable insouciance when you deliver your annual report?”

Said report is part of the deal with the chief goddess Ruby acquiesced to so that she could have six months of the year with Regina instead of the originally intended three. Her first destination each spring is Mytikas, the summit of Mount Olympus upon which the great temple of the gods was erected eons before she was even born. There she is to give account of Regina’s activities, however benign, as assurance that Zelena’s grasp on power remains uncontested. It is a distasteful duty that Ruby executes with all of the precision she can muster, especially since it always makes her feel dirty, as if she is being employed against her will as a spy in her own wife’s domain.

“Of course not, silly,” she replies, smiling at how cute Regina is when acting absolutely ridiculous. “I try to keep interactions with your sister to a minimum, and when I report to her I make sure to maintain the proper formality she most certainly does not deserve. Now stop beating around the bush and come to bed. As you said, I have a fortnight left with you and I do not intend on wasting even one minute.”

When Regina remains mulishly still, Ruby switches to a tried and tactic: batting her eyelashes and pouting shamelessly. To her delight, Regina caves within seconds and responds with an affectionate if not exasperated roll of her eyes.

Once they are settled back in together, Ruby’s back nestled flush with Regina’s front, they both heave sighs of contented pleasure. An easy, familiar silence reigns over them for a space that Ruby does not care to account for. Not when the only thing she needs and desires is right here in this room holding her just right, nuzzling into her cheek and neck in between pressing patient kisses against the skin of her shoulder and arm.

This is her home, Regina is her home, and there is no other place where she feels more safe and loved and cherished in all the universe, which has garnered a fair few questions as to her sanity when she has admitted as such to her friends and loved ones in the planes above Dīs. Some of them have been so bold as to declare to her face that she is insane.

“If that’s true,” she told one such acquaintance, “then sanity is not for me. Better to be deranged and blissfully happy than a sensible busybody like you who will never experience real love or understand how it feels to be desired for your heart instead of your tits!”

That particular individual has not spoken to Ruby since, not that it is a big loss. Drizella always was and always will be a vacuous hussy.

“What am I to do when you’re gone?”

Regina’s plaintive whisper shatters the silence as if she had screamed. Ruby’s heart lurches from a pang of acute melancholy. She already knows the answer to that question, and has since it was first asked a thousand years earlier.

While Ruby cries herself to sleep upon her plush bed in the Aventine Temple, Regina will be working herself ragged by micromanaging every last operational detail of the entire realm. She will spend countless hours draped in thick furs brooding upon her throne while being buffeted by cutting winds that sweep through corridors and hallways of the palace – for while above the spring breeds balmy, gentle breezes, in the Underworld the atmosphere turns ever more frigid and capricious and violent in tune with the temperament of its ruler. Against all logic she will refuse nourishment far too frequently and eat meager portions only when necessary, forego rest until she is too haggard and weary to perform even basic functions, harshly dismiss all attempts to lighten her load until the majority of the staff is too frightened to even approach her, and generally wear herself down until all that is left is an exhausted husk that Ruby will have to revitalize all over again come the fall.

She hates that her beloved will segregate herself to such a degree, but there is little she can do to prevent it. The Laws of Olympus cannot be broken, not even by those who decree them. However, that does not mean they cannot be bent. She may be forbidden to physically see and touch Regina during her time on the surface, but the laws Zelena established dictating their separation make no mention of the metaphysical.

Although eternal beings such as themselves do not require sleep, it is a luxury that provides many physical, emotional, and mental benefits. For them, though, something unique occurs when they are asleep at the same time. Somnus himself had taught her that they are what mortals refer to as Soul Mates. They are, he had told her, two halves of one whole and because of that no force known to heaven or earth could keep them completely isolated from one another. Space and time are irrelevant to them when they can bridge any distance to be reunited in their dreams. Unfortunately learning how to control this ability was quite complex and required many secretive lessons over the centuries for Ruby to even summon the most simple of dreamscapes for herself.

Thankfully this past summer she had at last managed to recreate the broader forest in which she and Regina first met. And tonight she was going to draw them both there as indisputable proof that there was a place beyond prying eyes they could always be together.

“Close your eyes.”

“I bet your pardon?” Regina replies, and when she attempts to prop herself up by an elbow, Ruby latches on to her arm to keep her close.

“For once do what I say without being difficult, would you please? I need you to hold me and close your eyes.”

For a long moment Regina does not comply, and though it starts to appear like she never will, Ruby continues waiting all the same. She is very good at that – waiting on Regina. In her experience, doing so never goes without reward. The woman may be more intractable and ornery than the hound that guards the gates of her dominion, but she is worth the expense of every single second of patience expended and every last ounce of effort exhausted on her behalf.

As if determined to prove her correct, Regina eventually settles back down and snakes an arms beneath the covers to wind over Ruby’s waist. A cool hand then settles in the valley of her breasts, fingers splayed wide over her heart, and Ruby shivers more in response to the welcome touch than to the algid temperature of her wife’s flesh.

“Alright then,” Ruby says, wiggling further into the embrace, “are your eyes closed?” Regina hums confirmation into the shell of Ruby’s ear. “Now, just relax, breathe, and listen...”

And when all is still and quiet once more she begins to sing:

“Time is a river that flows endlessly and A life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream.

Shadows dance behind the firelight,

And all the spirits of the night remind us: We are not alone.

Tomorrow, a sun soon rising, And yesterday is there beside us,

And it's never far away. If you listen to the wind you can hear me again.

Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song

High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves.

Listen to the wind, there's no end to my

Love is forever a circle unbroken.

The seasons keep changing; it always remains. Spring will melt the snows of winter and the summer gives us days of light

So long till autumn makes them fade.

Remember the sound of laughter. We ran together through the meadows;

Still we thought our hearts could break.

If you listen to the wind, you can hear me again.

Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song

High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves.

Listen to the wind and I'll send you my love. Listen to the wind where the sky meets the land.

I'm not really gone I've been here all along

High up in the trees in the sound of the leaves.

Listen to the wind there's no end to my...

Time is a river that flows to the sea

And a life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream.”

As the song draws to an end, there is no sound or movement from Regina save from her steady breathing, by which Ruby can tell she is fast asleep. With a soft, peaceful smile, she shutters her eyelids closed and inhales deeply.

By the time she has fully exhaled, she is already kissing Regina in their meadow.

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#red queen ouat #regina mills #ruby lucas #once upon a time #fanfic #hades and persephone myth #starring james horner's amazing music #gift for:#loudestdork #KEEP REDQUEEN ALIVE Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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xxsovereignsarayaxx · 4 years

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Fifty Shades of Mikaelson

Shade 1: Chapter 2

Authors Note: Wow I didn’t think how much love this has gotten already so from the bottom of my heart thank you for the likes and re-blogs. If you wish to be tagged so you never miss out on a chapter please let me know. This will also probably the last chapter I will be able to post for a while due to my computer breaking but I hope to get it fixed soon so I can continue writing. Word Count: 2845 Warnings: Swearing, Slight bit of smut but nothing too bad. Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader Fifty-Shades Tag List: @xxwritemeastoryxx @tomarisela

You can re-live the previous chapter here.

Tuesday morning came and when I arrived into work that morning I noticed that Klaus wasn’t in his office like he normally was. Smirking I made my way to the small cubicle that was situated outside his office, dropping my handbag. I booted up my computer and headed over to the break-room to make myself my mornings cup of coffee before sitting down and starting the mountain of jobs I had for the day. With a mug of caffeine in my hand I started to make the return journey back to my desk but I started to get closer and closer to my desk I noticed I already had a visitor. An unannounced visitor to say the least.

“Good morning Stefan, what can I do for you?” I asked politely as I approached the back of him.

“Y/N, is Klaus in?” He asked, turning around to face me.

“Not yet, but I presume your visit has some importance considering you're here in person and not doing your business over the phone.” I replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Klaus took Caroline out for dinner last night.”

“I’m well aware of that since it was me who made the reservation.” I stated, bringing my cup to my lip sipping at the liquid.

“And you approve of this?” He questioned, crossing his arms.

“I have no power to say who Caroline should or shouldn’t go to dinner with. I was simply following instructions to make a dinner reservation for two. Who Klaus chooses to take to dinner is none of my concern either.”

“Caroline is meant to be your friend.” Stefan said, slightly raising his voice.

“Just because my boss isn’t here, it doesn’t mean you can have a go at me. I voiced my concerns to Klaus but as you know just because I give great advice it doesn’t mean the said person who I gave it to will follow that advice.”

“Well next time you speak to Klaus tell him the deal is off.” Stefan says in a blunt tone shrugging his shoulders.

I stared blankly at Stefan, I never said a word and just continued to drink my coffee.

Stefan let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to let my anger out on you Y/N.” Stefan apologised.

“Look I get that you like Caroline, but maybe instead of hiding your feelings tell her! Otherwise countless other men are going to swoop in and date her. Would you like me to get Klaus to ring your office when he comes into work later?” I attempted to say to try and smooth things over.

“No it’s...it’s fine. You have your message to tell Klaus and I got what I wanted to hear.” Stefan said, obviously still in a mood.

And with that Stefan left my desk and I watched him head towards the elevators. Letting out a sigh I sat in my office chair and placed my cup on the coaster beside my computer monitor. Clicking open my emails I started to compose one to the shareholders when my office phone rang. Half mindlessly I picked it up and slotted it in between my shoulder and ear whilst I continued to type out the email.

“Good morning, Mikaelson Enterprises Y/N speaking how can I help you?”

“Hello love, just wanted to check in. How is everything?”

“Well one of us has to be here to try and clean up your messes.” I deadpanned, as I stopped typing to grasp hold of the phone.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve just had Stefan Salvatore come in the office looking for you, but because your god knows where I got the brink of his anger. I’m a secretary Klaus, not your meat shield! I warned you taking Caroline out to dinner was a bad idea. And because of your ego and wanting to get one over on them it cost you the deal proposal. So well done.” I replied to him as bluntly as possible.

“Taking Caroline out to dinner was just a method to get her to spill some inside secrets. Nothing more.” Klaus replied, matching my blunt tone.

“You know that. I know that but clearly Stefan didn’t. So you need to get your ass back in the office to deal with the shit that you’ve caused!” I ranted and put the phone down.

Yes I knew that shouldn’t have put the phone down on Klaus but there are times where he just pisses me off and his actions last night were stupid and a prime example of that. But knowing my luck he is going to be in a foul mood when he comes into the office, but the one thing I did have to my advantage was the fact I was never scared when he lost his temper, something I alone shared with his brothers and sister.

Going back to the email I quickly got it typed out, pressing send I then went back to work to tidy the folders and bits of paper I had in and on my desk. Then about fifteen minutes later Klaus comes into the office and demands me into his office. Rolling my eyes and leaving the remaining bits of paper on my desk I made my way inside. Closing the door was all the time I had when as soon as I did the yelling started.

“You don’t speak to me like the way you did earlier!” His voice bounced off the walls in the office.

“You employed me Klaus, you know that I take no crap from anybody and that includes you. So no I won’t apologise for my actions.” I told him, crossing my arms.

“You also don’t get any sympathy from me for being so bloody damn stupid! All that work you and your brother have put in has gone down the drain. Not to mention the countless late nights I had to put in. All for what? To smooth over that ego of yours finally beating the Salvatore’s?”

He got up from his desk, the chair spinning from the quick action and he stormed towards me. He looked like a predator protecting his territory. Klaus backed me up to the nearest wall and his eyes pierced through my own and I swallowed the building saliva that I had in my mouth.

“Have you quite finished Y/N?” He growled deeply.

“Yes.” I breathed, biting my lip.

With my last word Klaus’ lips crashed onto my own, his arms caged me so close so I couldn’t escape not that I wanted to. His lips so hungry and my heartbeat spiked at his dominant actions. It was no secret I loved to get Klaus angry just so I could get out bursts just like this as his lips made his way to my neck. I reached around and draped my arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life as I climbed higher and higher in pure bliss.

Using his knee he parted my legs and he grabbed a fistful of my hair pulling it hard, I moaned and my mouth opened just enough for him to slip his tongue inside, exploring every inch like he had done in the past. The action was painful but also pleasurable at the same time it always left me wanting more.

“You. Always. Know. How. To. Push. My. Buttons.” Klaus said in between kisses.

“Would you have me any other way?” I asked, breathing heavily, my chest heaving up and down.

“Not in a million years.”

Moving his arms he brings them to my shoulders and gently runs them down my body, going down the smooth fabric of my dress until he reaches the bottom of my thighs. Lifting the hem of the dress slowly he continues to plant soft kisses on my lips and my neck making sure to not leave any marks visible to anyone else. Brushing his fingertips on my smooth legs I let out a soft chuckle against his mouth but just as things were going to go further a knock on the door.

Breaking away from each other as quickly as possible, I smoothed my dress and tangled hair and bopped down to the bottom drawer on the filing cabinet to which was located near Klaus’ desk. Keeping my back to the door. Klaus straightened himself up and then sat down at his desk to hide the ever growing problem in his trousers.

“Come in.” He shouted.

“Niklaus may I have a moment of your time? I hate to intrude but Y/N wasn’t at her desk.” Elijah started as he entered the office but then he clocked me in the corner of the room.

“Oh, Y/N you're here.”

I turned my head and smiled at the elder Mikaelson. “Sorry Elijah, I was looking for a document to send to another client.” I told him in a sympathetic voice.

“I’ll let you speak in peace, anything else you need Klaus?” I asked him.

“Would you give this to Kol please love? It's the new proposal for the new branding.” He replied, handing me a document in a folder, taking the folder I moved around the room and headed for the door.

Being the gentleman that he was Elijah opened the door for me, he looked deeply into my eyes and then gave a soft smile. “Goodbye Y/N.” He says as he shuts the door.

Letting out a breath I ran a hand through my hair and went to my desk to drink the cold beverage on my desk. Blinking my eyes. “That was too close.” I whispered to myself.

Placing the file down I lent on my desk, dipping my head down slightly to get my bearings back. After a moment I was feeling slightly better and picked up the folder and headed to Kol’s office.

Knocking on Cami’s door I opened it slowly and popped my head through.

“Now you look drop dead gorgeous.” I teased playfully.

“I didn’t quite know what to wear.” She admitted blushing slightly.

“You fit right in. How's your day been so far? Has Kol given you any problems? Or has he been a good boy?”

“So far so good. It’s been a good day.” She replied with a smile.

“Speaking of Kol, is he in? I have something to give to him.” I said showing her the folder in my hand.

“Sure go right in.”

Walking past Cami’s desk I softly knocked on Kol’s door and walked in. He was engrossed in his computer until I cleared my throat.

“Almost got caught again?” Kol said with a smirk, eyeing me up and down.

“Bugger off Kol…” I snapped, rolling my eyes at him.

“Who was it this time? One of my brothers' little minions?” He asked, continuing to tease.

“You're wrong actually.”

I paused.

“It was Elijah.” I finished quickly.

Kol burst out into a fit of laughter. “I don’t see why you're laughing. Unlike you we haven’t been caught. Yet.” I said, trying to cut out his laughter.

“Yet being the word here darling. I don’t know what you see in my brother. I’ll have to speak to him privately about sharing you.” He replied seductively.

Rolling my eyes I approached his desk and handed him the folder. “You wouldn’t even know how to handle me sweetheart.” I teased.

Raising an eyebrow he looked at me. “What's this?” He asked.

“Open it and you will find out.” I replied as I turned on the ball of my feet and exited the office, saying my goodbyes to Cami I headed back to return to my desk.

Nearing my desk I was intercepted by Elijah, as I tried to walk around him, he side stepped blocking my path once again. Letting out a huff. “Is there something I can help you with Elijah?”

“Come for a walk with me.” He offered, gesturing for us both to walk towards the elevator.

“I have work to do Elijah, can this not wait?” I asked, growing impatient.

“I assure you it is in your best interests if you come with me now.”

Giving in I walked with him to the elevator. We never spoke and the tension was ever growing as we waited for the metal doors to open. Stepping in first Elijah followed pressing the button to his floor. “What do you want to talk about Elijah?” I asked softly.

“I heard about the confrontation you had with Mr Salvatore this morning. You handled it rather well I just wanted to know if you were feeling ok?” He replied calmly.

“We both know that is not what you wanted to say. If you were so concerned you would have come down the moment he left. Try again.”

“Not one to fall for that trick are we Y/N? I notice how close of a friendship along with the professional one you have with Niklaus. His methods to conduct business are getting…”

“Sloppy?” I finished for him. As the doors to the elevator opened once more and I noticed the much larger hustle and bustle to the floor. It was very different compared to the much more relaxed atmosphere to what I was used to.

Stepping foot outside I waited for Elijah and followed him to his office.

“Exactly, taking the representative for Salvatore Industries was not a clever move. I have also had the pleasure of watching you work and furthermore I have suggested to my brother that you handle the business negotiations, you seem to understand people to a higher degree than he or Kol do.” Elijah explained, motioning for me to sit in the chair opposite his desk.

Removing his grey suit jacket, he placed it on the back of his chair and rolled up his sleeves.

“I’m a secretary for a reason Elijah.” I replied to him.

“And what would that be?” He countered.

“I can leave my work at work.”

“What would be the difference if you were to handle the business negotiations? Like I mentioned moments ago I have had the pleasure of watching you work. You're quick, snappy and on the ball. You strive for excellence. Niklaus and Kol could learn a thing or two from yourself.”

“Klaus and Kol don’t have to listen to your suggestions Elijah?” I questioned.

“Unfortunately they do, I happen to be on the board of directors for Mikaelson Enterprises as a whole. Rebekah too. They have to place consideration to any suggestions made and then give a reason if and why they go against any that have been made.”

“Why are you the one to tell me this Elijah and not Klaus or Kol?” I asked him once again.

“Your witty and often cut-throat with both of my younger siblings but yet you're polite and sincere with myself why is that?” Elijah asked me.

“Both of them made the mistake of thinking my beauty and good looks were it. I don’t tolerate limitations like that. You never did. Hence the respect I have for you.”

“And that is another reason why I think you would do an excellent job. Niklaus has agreed to the suggestion all that remains is your response. So Y/N what do you say?”

“I keep my job as a secretary and negotiate whenever required. Once negotiations are over your brothers can deal with the paperwork that follows suit. I will check over it if it needs to be submitted. I carry on getting my weekends off however I will work one Saturday a month.” I replied trying to work the terms to my advantage.

“Alright I think we have a deal, you would make a wonderful lawyer Y/N.” Elijah says as he gets up and reaches out for me to shake his hand.

“Perhaps.” I replied with a smile, shaking his hand.

Leaving Elijah’s office he walked me back to the elevator, as I stepped inside I gave him a soft and sincere smile as the doors closed. Returning back to my floor and waltzing into Klaus’ office I saw him look up from his computer.

“You took your time, love.” He said with a smirk.

“Better watch your mouth Klaus, you're speaking to your new business negotiator. We won’t be having the Forbes incident happening again. ” I replied walking up to his desk, placing my hands on it and leaning over towards him. My skirt to my dress rose upwards.

“You named it?” He asked, his smirk instantly dropping from his face.

“I had to. Would have been a missed opportunity otherwise.” I told him, giving him a seductive smile.

“Well how about we go out for dinner tonight? Celebrate in style?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well you can pick me up at seven, just remember to pace yourself and we definitely must continue where we left off.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way love.”

“Please tell me you two aren’t going to go at it again?” Kol teases as he walks inside.

“Why did you have to tell him?” I asked Klaus.

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #Niklaus Mikealson #Kol mikaelson #elijah mikealson #human au #fifty shades spin off #the originals #Stefan Salvatore #mentions of caroline forbes #camille o'connell

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bluerosesburnblue · 4 years

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Nothing upsets me more than a legitimately good story being ruined by “extra” content. I’ve already complained at length about Pokemon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon’s story changes over the original games so now it’s The World Ends With You: Final Remix’s “A New Day’s” turn because CHRIST

I’m writing this as I come across points while watching a playthrough, so:

God, Coco is the single most insufferable being. “totez hilar” just dated this content so baaaad, and I’d even say it was dated language when Final Remix came out. No other character abuses modern slang as their entire character. Like, slang is used but not as a substitute for personality. Beat speaks in a very casual, urban style but it never ends up being detrimental to his character as a bit of a punk with a “perfect little sister” that he wasn’t as naturally smart as, so he just gave up on trying and ended up being a bit of an aggressive slacker. Heck, he tones it down a bit for emotional moments, too. Coco, though, comes across like her ultra-modern “cutesy” text message slang is supposed to be her personality, and even when it’s revealed that she’s the villain of the episode you just can’t take her seriously through the “like, ohmigosh, I can’t believe you’re ruining my plaaaaaans” bullshit. What does she have going for her if you rewrite all of her lines without that speaking style? She’s just a generic manipulative brat

Frankly I also just disagree with the entire premise of A New Day and the plot threads it sets up for a potential sequel, i.e. “having Neku and Beat run through a game again as a trap to get Neku into yet another game in a possible sequel.” TWEWY is a complete experience and had been for at least a decade. Literally every character had a complete arc. The worldbuilding was rich enough that they had more than enough to come up with a sequel set in the same world, but in an entirely different town with an entirely new cast and, heck, even entirely new rules for the Game that would’ve expanded upon the world of the games without taking away from the characters whose time in the Underground was already done

But, noooooooo, we’ve gotta bring Neku back. Can’t have a game without Neku they literally SAY THAT (”The Game, like, literally can’t go on without Neku.”). And let’s bring Minamimoto back, too, as a good guy! The fans loved him! This doesn’t come across as pandering at all!

Just... you have the girl with the red headphones designed! Make the sequel set in Shinjuku with her as the main character! (Hell, I don’t think I would have even minded Minamimoto coming back for that because there was enough leeway in the base TWEWY for him to have survived his encounter with Josh, just leave Neku out of it). This is the most infuriating part because it actually takes away from Neku’s story. The entire GAME was a test of character to see if even the worst, most closed off person could learn empathy and respect and Neku DID. And in return, that sparked a change in Josh. His story is done. Coco using Neku, though, has nothing to do with him as a character and everything to do with him being the face of the game and it shows

And why the hell is Neku so trusting of Coco anyway? I get that he opened up over the course of TWEWY, that was kind of the point. But you come back to life, everything’s fine, and then suddenly you’re in a death game again and so is one of your best friends, like, he should be WAY more concerned and suspicious. But one little Reaper gives him the sad eyes and he just caves instantly like “fine, come along.” Even when Neku grew to like some of the Reapers, like Uzuki and Kariya, it was still far more of a rival-like respect. He knew damn well that it was their job to see him gone and while he accepted their help when they gave it and helped them when their lives were in danger (possibly, up to player choice), they weren’t buddy-buddy with each other, knowing that as soon as the immediate danger to them had passed they’d be on opposite sides again. And these are the Reapers he’s closest to, even at the end of the game. And then all of a sudden Coco goes “but I’m a wittle wost baby weaper” and Neku’s response is, “well, shit, welcome to the team.” WHAT

I hate using the term “Mary Sue” but Coco is absolutely a Mary Sue in its original meaning. The plot bends over backwards to accommodate her at the expense of the main characters’ personalities or reason, all while giving her a clothing style incongruous with everyone else’s meant to stand out and make her look special and not having her face any repercussions for her actions (so far which is, again, another issue with the very premise of A New Day since that’s exactly how things will end off if TWEWY doesn’t get a sequel, the possibility of which is not a guarantee AT ALL)

Shiki and Rhyme start saying blatantly false things about themselves and handwaving it away with “ohhh, that must have been our new Entry Fee! Just the exact same ones as the first time again!” and only BEAT is suspicious and NEITHER OF THEM are suspicious of Coco, the only non-generic Reaper they’ve met so far. Christ, I appreciate Beat being attentive with matters of his sister because that’s in-character but NEKU was always the more paranoid AND observant one yet all he thinks about is “gee, I’m sure having weird visions today, huh?”

And then Coco starts BLATANTLY gaslighting them about Kariya and Uzuki’s personalities and they’re STILL not suspicious of her like ughhhhhhhhhhh. Nekuuuuuuu you LIVED THROUGH JOSH WEEK 2, you have BEEN IN A SITUATION where the mastermind partnered up with you to divert your suspicion and keep an eye on you how are you less suspicious of this brat than Beat is???

And why are none of the characters bringing up the fact that you have to be DEAD to be in the Game??? You all spent three weeks of hell to claw your way back to life, how are you not more upset about what seems like you all dying again, basically immediately after you just got brought back? And I know the Shiki and Rhyme in A New Day are illusions, but Neku and Beat AREN’T. Nobody even comments on the implication that they’re dead again and what that means!

I can’t believe they made new expressions for the fake Josh’s changed personality but still refuse to make anything for Shiki’s true appearance

Hell, there’s enough lore with Josh that you could make an entire prequel about him becoming the Composer instead of this mess and, you know, EXPAND on someone’s character and what led to him being so disillusioned with Shibuya as the Composer instead of employing the Happy Ending Rewrite on Neku and then gutting his personality to make Coco the focus. I’d LOVE a Josh prequel with competent writing. Kingdom Hearts made the Xehanort prequel and hooked me in a single chapter with expanded worldbuilding and interesting ties with Xehanort’s character to friends that humanize him, do the same for Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu!

Pfffffff hire me and let me make the dream TWEWY trilogy: Joshua prequel > TWEWY sans A New Day > sequel set in Shinjuku starring Red Headphones Girl with Occasional Josh and Hanekoma Interaction

It is so unnecessarily cruel to make Beat relive Rhyme’s erasure and subject Neku to believing that Shiki was erased as well, and yet they do NOTHING with it except have it be cheap tension for five minutes. The characters basically say “wow, I’m so sad!” and then IMMEDIATELY move on to “OMG is Neku seeing the fuuuuuture?” Your LITTLE SISTER and FIRST REAL FRIEND IN YEARS just seemingly died permanently! When Rhyme was erased the first time it took Neku one and a half in-game days to even talk about it because he was so upset, and from then on he was focused on avenging her/bringing her back. Shiki was his entry fee in Week 2 and that made him hyper paranoid the whole time! WHY ARE WE JUST GLOSSING OVER THIS especially since they made SUCH a big deal about how they just finally started believing that the fakes were real (after a whole TWO conversations)

And then at the end they say that they’re inside Coco’s Noise that is SO BIG that it has an ALTERNATE DIMENSION INSIDE IT and Hanekoma’s like “I’ve never met a Reaper POWERFUL enough to make a Noise like this. Wow, Coco, you’re so POWERFUL that even I, an Angel, am impressed!” This. Coming from the guy who specifically chose Minamimoto as his failsafe to kill the Composer should the Game go wrong because a Taboo Minamimoto, heavily refined using forbidden methods, would be strong enough to defeat THE COMPOSER. And he’s now going on about how Coco’s the strongest Reaper ever, basically admitting that she’s probably stronger than the Composer of Shibuya. SURE. BECAUSE COCO WASN’T BAD ENOUGH ALREADY SHE HAS TO BE THE STRONGEST REAPER EVER, TOO

And then it just ends with Josh and Hanekoma exposition dumping about how Shinjuku got erased as Noise entered the RG (WHAT?), Neku’s visions were probably caused by the red headphones girl who’s super special (who???), and Coco’s just so special powerful (why...), but it’s not their problem so fuck it. Oh, and also Josh doesn’t care about Neku anymore, despite that being the whole point of TWEWY. Yeah, the guy who flew off all upset when Hanekoma asked him if he wanted to hang out with his friends at the end of the game. Uh huh. Even if he’s lying, why even put that THERE instead of saving it for the sequel?

And then Coco just... revives Minamimoto. Even though, oh, right, the Taboo Refinery stuff was so precise that the only reason Minamimoto came back the first time was because Hanekoma, THE PRODUCER AND AN ANGEL, set it up for him. But I guess Coco’s just soooooo super powerful and knows FORBIDDEN HIGHER PLANE KNOWLEDGE and can just do whateeeeeever she wants. Not like Hanekoma was so paranoid about someone finding out what he did for Minamimoto that he went into hiding, certain that he’d be reported to the higher Angels and destroyed

A New Day is so painfully shallow from a writing experience. It’s a poor continuation off of the solid, complete TWEWY story experience that just doesn’t have a handle on Neku’s character, turning him into this bland vision machine with no emotional connection to anyone. The way that it expands the worldbuilding with “Inversion” does one thing that I HATE, which is taking an emotion-and-character driven story and turning it into a generic “end of the world” scenario, “raising the stakes” in a way that divorces it from what made it memorable in the first place. If Kitaniji directly effecting the RG during the main Game’s plot was the point where he crossed the line in-universe, then that loses its special nature and impact if you then go “oh, btw, Noise can destroy the RG city if you let them”

And then there’s the absolute black hole of a character that is Coco Atarashi. She wasn’t designed to fit into the world of the game, she was designed to stand out. On its own that’s not a bad thing, especially given the themes of the game that revolve around owning your true self and baring it to the world, but then you combine it with no personality beyond being a manipulative brat obsessed with the events of TWEWY, extremely lazy text message slang dressing up her dialogue to make it stand out, the way that Neku and Beat’s personalities change to accommodate her presence just to shoehorn her in and then have a cheap “omg she was bad” twist, and then dumping powers on par with Josh and Hanekoma on her and there is NO saving her character

The only good part of A New Day is “Wake Up.” And even then, there’s better TWEWY songs, I just like the vaguely Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance vibes it has in parts

#the world ends with you #the world ends with you spoilers #liz's shenanigans #the playthrough i was watching to refresh myself on twewy's story hit a new day and my blood pressure spiked instantly #i have never lost interest in a sequel quite as fast as i did this #i just... how do you fuck up this bad???

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durrzerker · 4 years

Text

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 4! Escort Mission.

"Thith was supposed to be an eathy day, Tathmather."

Slowly filing through the alleyways of Bagalia, Taskmaster, Wolverine, and Black Ant weren't making great time with their young charges. Laura had taken it upon herself to carry the injured boy, who Tony had learned was named Sven, across her back; she had the greatest stamina of the trio and was the least injured. Despite his slight limp, Taskmaster had taken point, bow in hand; he was the best shot and had the greatest chance of picking off oncoming threats silently from afar. Black Ant, meanwhile, was bringing up the rear; following behind the children, the size-shifting mercenary had another honey bun in hand, taking bites between each sentence.

Stopping briefly when he heard a cry of pain, Tony opened a pouch and back a syringe of morphine from his pouch to Laura to give to Sven. The kid had been whining from the jostling of their quick pace for awhile and Tony had ignored it, but now he was starting to sound legitimately distressed. Tony usually kept the meds on hand in case he got hurt -real- bad on a job, but he had other ways of managing his pain -- and something in him, a feeling that was as surprising as it was unfamiliar, welled up at the sight of the boy trying his best to look stoic while a bone was sticking out of his limb. Was it pity? He couldn't remember.

"...How many of those damn honey buns were you smuggling, anyways?" Taskmaster grumbled to Eric.

"I dunno. Six?"

He was too tired to even care; he had greater worries on his mind. He'd tried calling The Hub twice now, once fifteen minutes ago, and once just now -- nothing.

"She was supposed to send somebody," he complained to Wolverine, raising a hand before the ragtag caravan exited the alleyway. "Don't know why she ain't called back yet."

"Maybe she's just maintaining radio silence," Laura suggested. "Trying to keep quiet while she waits at Zemo's old place." Tony appreciated her solution-oriented mindset; it didn't necessarily put him at ease, but her matter-of-fact demeanor was a lot more confident than he felt right now. "--What's that sound?" Her head cocked like that of a canine, her enhanced senses picking up what was coming long before Taskmaster noticed.

"Oh shit, what day is it? Maybe...hold up. Oh no. I know what this is."

Damn it, he thought to himself. This is exactly what I was worried about. Not enemy mercs, not a supervillain...this. Bagalia just being fuckin' Bagalia.

It was a perverted parody of Mardi Gras: the Bagalia Freedom Festival. Dozens, maybe hundreds of bonafide supervillains, alongside all of their henchmen that were brave enough to venture into the borders of the most lawless city on earth, were marching through the streets. Those that weren't drinking were most definitely on something stronger, and all of them, from the Z-listers to the major leagues like the Wrecking Crew, were going to be doing this all night.

Peeking out from an alleyway between a strip club for Skrulls and The Bar With Fourteen Names, Tony held his bow at the ready and watched the goings-on. He only needed a glimpse to see the supervillain Piledriver turn and kick an offending car out of the way that was trying to get across the street before he made up his mind. "This is gonna take too long. We're gonna be pursued soon if we ain't already, and by the time this little 'traffic jam' goes by, it'll be nearly sun up. Look at that. Stretches all the way back to the damn docks...How did I forget this was today?"

"Is that a serious question?" Eric chimed in.

"Shut up. In fact, how did YOU forget this was today?"

"I didn't." Lifting his mask, Black Ant took another bite of his honey bun. For the first time, Wolverine and Taskmaster seemed to truly be on the same wavelength; in perfect unison, they both turned and shoved him onto his ass.

"So what's the plan?" Laura asked, glancing back at Taskmaster as Black Ant rubbed his back, rising to his feet. "You know Bagalia better than anyone...when your memory's working. Do you have an idea?"

Ignoring the crack about his memory - he'd have to file that under 'How's she know about that?' for later - Tony regarded the gathered party. "If it were just me, or maybe the three of us? This would be easy. With the little troublemakers, though..." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully behind his mask. "We'll need a distraction; the kind that doesn't draw ANY of us away. Eric...yer best-suited to this."

Tony could almost feel the lenses of his partner's mask trying to squint at that. "Why me? You know, Tony, I'm starting to feel a little over-employed. Maybe you value my skills a lot! Maybe it's time to talk rais--"

"We're...we're partners, Eric. You already get half from every job we do together." He grit his teeth in exasperation; he knew where this was going.

"Yeah! I'm thinking, I dunno...maybe I'm contributing a little more than half this mission. I'm thinking maybe this is a 70/30 cut kind of job."

"Wait. What...what do you think is going to happen here, Eric? No one's paying us for this. This is --" God, it hurt to say -- "...Pro bono."

"Yeah, but -something- is going to happen. We're gonna make a lot of money off this one, Tony. I can feel it." The smaller of the two mercenaries was bouncing in place, leaving Laura regarding him with something akin to disgust.

Taskmaster liked to think he was an open-minded guy. He liked to think that when he took a job, even if it was an informal one like saving these children, he didn't let anything get in the way of focusing on the task at hand. But 70-30? "...Okay, hypothetically, if -somehow- we make a profit off this? 60-40. That's my final offer."

"...Okay, but if I'm wrong, I still keep that cut for our -next- job," Eric insisted.

"God, you two are pathetic," Laura chimed in.

"You really are!" Akeja had caught up after scouting the back end of the alley that they were coming out of, and she looked extremely annoyed. "I thought we were the kids here."

"Hilarious," Tony commented. "It's a deal. Eric, gonna need you to go big for this one. -Real- big."

"Ooh. I never get to go big." Rubbing his hands together, Black Ant already started out of the alleyway, calling back to them.

"On my signal, you all head off towards Zemo's old place. Can't believe we're messing with the Bagalia Freedom Festival! Feels downright unpatriotic, Tony."

"I know, Eric. We all gotta make sacrifices sometimes."

"Oh my god." Laura buried her face, now fully healed, into both hands. "There are children's lives at stake here."

"Yes," Eric replied. "But they're kind of mean children, so I'm not going to be guilt-tripped. Let's do this, boys!" Breaking into a run, Black Ant hit his belt. The Pym Particles that surged through his suit came to life, his form growing with every step. By the time he was intruding upon the parade, he was easily over twenty feet tall - and still growing.

"What the fuck?!" Came a cry of alarm.

"It's that shitty Ant-Man!"

"Which one?!"

Turning his attention back to the children, Taskmaster nodded. "Best shot we're gonna get. Let's go."

"He had a point about you taking advantage of him," Laura conceded when she slipped out of the alleyway, the injured Sven still on her back. Despite his added weight, she still nimbly managed to suddenly fling herself up towards a fire escape on their side of the street, using it as leverage to swing like a gymnast back and forth until she was able to hurl herself up onto the roof of the pharmacy next door. "Come on; if we stick to the rooftops until we're behind the parade, they're less likely to see us."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Tony murmured. "Kids, you think you can manage that mo--" He shut up as they filed past; Mara, Akeja, and the other three children whose names he hadn't caught yet methodically started to file past, perfectly executing the same swing and jump that Laura herself had done.

Too perfectly, to Taskmaster's trained eye. "...What the hell?" They weren't doing something similar - they were mimicking Laura's moves perfectly. The way -he- was about to do. Keeping this detail to himself for now, he completed the little routine and landed on the roof with the others.

By now, Black Ant fully had the attention of the parade; some were laughing raucously, pointing and cheering him on. Others were attacking, small-time D-listers trying to make their name by taking down one of the bigger - literally - criminals of the massive underworld. As always, Bagalia was diverse in both its reactions and its populace. "He going to need help?" One of the children asked, a boy with a shock of blonde hair that nearly covered his whole head.

"Not our concern, Malakai," Adeja replied. "The idiot wants to do something good for once in his life? Let him. You know what he's done for money; he owes this to the world."

"Ungrateful brats," Taskmaster snapped to Laura as he caught up to her. "You hearing this crap? Never did anything to them, but they're acting like Eric and I personally spat on their faces." He glanced sidelong at the child with the broken leg that she was carrying; he'd passed out awhile ago, thanks to the medicine that he'd been given most likely.

"We aren't friends, Taskmaster. I'm here to help you with this one mission - and then we'll go right back to me arresting you for your many, many crimes." She cast him a casually cool look that he had to admit was rather terrifying, even as he fell into step beside her. "The only reason that I didn't last time is because I had more urgent matters to attend to helping my sisters."

"Yeah, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Tony replied, brushing off her promise of another fight. "Point is, those kids have a -grudge- against Eric and I; but we've never done a damn thing to them. Ain't that suspicious?"

"Maybe," Laura replied thoughtfully, stopping to look back at the gathered Scions, who were milling in a circle and speaking once more in their personal language. "I'm giving you this advice for the sake of the mission: keep it professional. Don't provoke them about it. If they -do- have reason to be upset with you, trying to pry it out of them is only going to make them resent you even more." Crouching down at the edge of the pharmacy roof, she looked out over the street below. It was total pandemonium; those who weren't focused on Black Ant were fighting amongst themselves, all too eager to take any opportunity to throw their weight about or attempt to kill an old rival.

"So much for the sanctity of 'Bagalia Freedom Day', or whatever," Laura remarked wryly.

"Huh?" Tony stopped beside her, holding up a hand for the children to halt. "What do ya mean? This is exactly the spirit of the holiday. They're embracing what makes this nation-state great!" As far as he was concerned, it was beautiful. A bunch of dumbasses killing each other without an Avenger in sight to mess it up.

Shaking her head in obvious disapproval, Laura peered over the side of the building. "Dumpsters here; we can use the trash to quiet our fall. Come on." And with that, she hopped off. Covering the rear, Tony waved the kids off the building, ignoring the glares from Akeja and Mara as they passed.

Well, 'ignoring' was a strong term for the fact he casually flipped them off in response. Warranted, as far as he saw it. Still, he was starting to see the exhaustion evident in the way they moved; they might have somehow been copying Laura, but they weren't in the kind of shape that she was. They were still tired, starved, and losing motivation by the second.

"Gotta wrap this up soon," he murmured to himself, following the last of the kids off of the edge of the roof."These kids ain't gonna last."

Though they had to wait and waste some valuable time - time that Taskmaster could rather literally feel bleeding out of him - the chaos of the now-forgotten parade eventually allowed them to approach from behind. The tail end of the massive line of supervillains had exploded into a supernova of violence; by giving it a wide berth, the group was able to avoid it. At one point, it almost seemed like a group of costumed mooks that Taskmaster didn't recognize - all dressed like the individual parts of an American flag - were going to look their way...but Black Ant, catching sight of what was happening, came crashing through boot-first, kicking them out of way and scattering them like an exploding Fourth of July firework. "Hahaha! Look at me, I'm anti-colonialism!"

"That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Laura proclaimed when they finally managed to cross the avenue, disappearing into an old plaza that had stopped being used when a fallen statue of Baron Zemo had crushed the fountain in the center. "And I'm an X-Man."

"There's nothing more interesting than henchmen off the leash," Tony agreed. "Come on; Eric's not gonna be able to keep them distracted for much longer."

As they fled from the plaza towards the former headquarters of the Masters of Evil, a masked woman watched them from the rooftop. She'd completely ignored the chaos of the 'festival' below, her gaze never leaving the cloaked silhouette of the wounded Taskmaster.

#taskmaster #tony masters #eric o'grady #x-23 #laura kinney #wolverine #fanfiction #marvel comics #marvel #taskmaster: the line

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scaredandbored · 4 years

Text

.ok i caved and wrote spones. academy au spones. with a really, horribly out of character spock. was this purely self-indulgent? yes. i’m not even 100% sure what im doing with this story, only that its spones, they share a dorm, and its going to be a gross, borderline self-insert fic lmaoooo. playing fast and loose with the academy’s curriculum because i’m a lazy piece of shit who won’t research the actual structure. also, idk if it even counts as slash, because it contains what i consider flirting, which is ACTUALLY just bickering and academic/scientific discussion combined with gentle physical contact. let me have this.

additional note : i snuck in some pining at the end! so it’s definitely romantic! ha! (it’s not worth it dont bother)

additional additional note : i fucked up a perfectly good spones fic by trying to add jim but it turned into McSpirk

Collectors poke and scalpels ring

(title from billy corgan’s poem “a wax seal”)

warnings : don’t read this spock is so badly written in it.

blatant abuse of the comma, oxford and otherwise

someone gets burnt but it’s not severe and it’s off of tea

cursing. a lot of it.

words : c.6’000 (i’ll count properly tomorrow, it’s hard to get a word count on mobile)

If Leonard was being completely honest with himself (which he tried to be, dammit), his studying had stopped being productive at some stage between midnight and one a.m, but he’d be damned if he was going to grant his smug-enough-already roommate an “I told you so” by going to bed. Not that Spock would use such colloquial, illogical language. Resisting the urge to groan, Leonard let his head fall to his desk, confident the pile of pages he had accumulated while studying for his assessment in Standard Procedures in Classifying Non-Humanoid Life-Forms would muffle the thud enough to prevent upsetting his roommate’s meditation in the bedroom next to his. Walls were thin at the academy, that was the whole reason he’d had to turn down Jim when he’d requested Leonard to bunk with him for their second year in the academy. Bones loved the kid, he really did, but if he wasn’t blasting his frankly awful study music through the whole night, he had someone over from wherever he’d been that evening, and Bones had come to learn (quickly, and unwillingly), that Jim was loud in bed.

Making the decision to go make a coffee (not with one of those godawful replicators, but with some decent coffee beans that his younger sister had brought as a present on his birthday, for which he’d had to actually purchase a grinder and coffee press for afterwards, but it was the thought that counts), Bones couldn’t help but miss the all-nighters he and Jim used to pull together in their previous year at the academy, using each other to keep awake and motivated. The kid’s taste in classical music left much to be desired, but he didn’t seem to mind Bones’s preferences, so they’d throw on the med student’s study playlist on Jim’s maybe-technically-banned-but-no-one-is-going-to-snitch-on-us-because-we-all-have-one-Bones-relax speaker and bounce flash cards off of each other, explaining things to one another, and sharing notes. Jim had always been very much an aural-oral learner, unable to retain information unless he had explained it to someone, or had it explained to him, and while Bones definitely did not mind helping his friend out, he’d always been a more individual learner, preferring to take his notes and summarise them, re-writing the most important points until he had them ingrained in his subconscious. Which was all well and good, except it was a pain in the ass of a technique that only became more frustrating when it was employed in a long night of cramming.

Quietly, Bones took his mug as well as the rest of the required paraphernalia from the almost-bare shelf in the equally almost-bare cupboard he and Spock had voted to dedicate to Bones’s “illogical need to entertain guests with a strange variety of baked goods paired with one of two hot beverages” and Spock’s “ostentatious pots and probably poisonous concoctions”, all while chiding himself for reminiscing about study sessions. Of all the stupid shit he could reminisce about at the ripe age of twenty-two, study sessions with a friend he could easily invite over to join him was probably the one of the most stupid. Bones was forced to pause and evaluate his situation as he realised that all his quiet tip-toeing about in an effort to leave Spock’s meditation undisturbed was probably null and fucking void, seeing as he had to manually grind the coffee beans, which would indubitably create enough noise to irritate those over-sensitive ears. Not that the vulcan could feel irritation. Fucking asshole.

Rolling his eyes at his own cankerous mood, he began to prepare his coffee, keeping half an ear on the sudden rustling noises from Spock’s bedroom as the disturbed vulcan did god-knows-what before coming out to lecture Leonard. Or to glare at him. Or condescend him. Maybe criticise him on how late he’d left it to study for this godforsaken exam. Or maybe Leonard was projecting onto his poor roommate, who he’d only known for the better half of a month. (During which, the cranky bastard side of his brain argued, said roommate had made his distaste for human culture and illogic clear, his particular dislike (it was dislike, regardless of whatever “vulcans don’t feel” bullshit he was trying to pull) of Leonard thinly veiled, and his disinclination to speak to Leonard in general blatantly obvious.) Most likely Spock would simply head into their shared living area to procure a cup of his noxious evening teas before returning to his meditation, not stooping so low as to acknowledge the source of the disruption to his nightly routine. Leonard’s mission to caffeinate himself was not under threat. It took more energy than Leonard would ever admit to quell the disappointment that bubbled up at the thought of Spock just ignoring him.

It was stupid-o-clock in the morning, of course the vulcan wasn’t going to engage in a full-blown academic conversation with him, what was he thinking? Bones haphazardly plopped the filter over his mug just as the kettle came to a boil, doggedly ignoring the squeak of Spock’s door and the sound of his bare feet against their tile floor.

“It is not recommended for humans to ingest beverages of such a high caffeine content at this hour.” Spock’s voice breaking the eerie silence of the late hour was enough to make Leonard’s usually still hands jerk, splashing his knuckles with the hot water. He managed to suppress a hiss of pain, determined not to let the vulcan see any weakness.

“It’s not generally recommended amongst humans to get your medical degree at Starfleet Academy, yet here I am, Spock.” Griped Bones, turning to face Spock with his mug in hand, the eye contact he made intended as a challenge. Try and stop me, Pointy.

Spock raised an eyebrow, which alerted Leonard to the vulcan’s significantly slower than normal movements. The damn vulcan was sleepy, he realised. In an infuriatingly adorable way, Spock blinked slowly twice before responding, a significant delay in his usual response times to Leonard’s taunts. “On the contrary, an education in Starfleet Academy is highly coveted amongst humans; its expansive curriculum makes its graduates highly sought after in careers outside of the academy. I see no logic in your statement.”

Bones rolled his eyes, knocking back half his coffee in a matter of seconds, and burning his tongue in the process. “I don’t see the logic in continuing to hold conversations with an individual you find so distastefully illogical, Mr.Spock.” He passed the strange traditional vulcan teapot out to his roommate along with the decidedly terran-style mug Spock seemed to prefer using.

Spock offered three more of his slow, dazed blinks before responding with a tilt of his head that was slightly more pronounced than the one he tended to make during the day. “Distasteful? I do not believe I have ever said as much, McCoy.”

Bones gave a single, barking laugh, shaking his head as he began to move back towards his bedroom. “Careful, Mr.Spock. Keep up the flattery and you might say something you regret.”

“You are studying?” Spock called after him, just as Leonard was closing his door.

Leonard watched Spock as he shuffled around their kitchen, preparing his tea, his normally purposefully brisk steps reduced to a half-asleep stumble. His roommate gave no indication of having spoken to him. “In my usual, time-consuming way. Yes I am, Mr.Spock.”

Spock did not face him, but the delay in his response was still significant, for the vulcan, “You study using this highly inefficient method only when learning independently, correct?”

“What is it you’re getting at? There’s only so many hours in a night, and some of us have work to do.” Growled Leonard, his prolonged view of the back of Spock’s house robes frustrating him. Their arguments were much less entertaining and all the more aggravating when he couldn’t look Spock in the eye. Spock attempted to answer while turning to face Leonard in his sleepy daze, forgetting that he was halfway through pouring the boiling water over the strainer, effectively dousing his front in the scalding liquid. There was a brief pause where Spock blinked down at the front of his robes, while Bones processed what had just happened before jerking into action. “Get that glorified dressing gown off of yourself, Spock!” He whisper-shouted, determined not to wake the entire residential block. Spock just blinked at himself, then at Leonard.

“It is burning.” He deadpanned, prompting Bones to roll his eyes and cross the room in a few quick strides.

“It’s boiling water, Spock, of course it’s burning.” He hissed tapping the lapels of the robes. “You need to get out of this so we can get you under some running, room temperature water, try and stop any blistering.” Spock finally seemed to register what was going on and began to unwrap the ties of the robes, turning away from Leonard as he did so. Leonard noticed his roommate look uneasy at the prospect of being shirtless around him, and decided to leave him to it. “I’ll go run the shower, you dry yourself off a bit and run any part of your arm that got caught in the stream under the tap. I’ll call you when the shower’s the right temperature, ok?”. Leonard waited for Spock’s nod before bolting off to their shared bathroom to start working.

So much for his productive night studying. It was starting to look like he’d be playing nurse for Spock until the on-campus medbay opened at five am. He was just beginning to realise exactly how fucked he was for the exam the following day when the door to their bathroom creaked open slowly. “Nearly there, Spock. I don’t recommend using any of your pungent herbal shit, we don’t want anything getting into any burst blisters or anything.”

“Your alarm is unwarranted, Leonard. There is no lasting damage done to my person.”

“Congratulations on your medical degree, Spock, didn’t realised you’d discovered a fast track. Y’could’ve told me.” Leonard drawled, not taking his eyes off of the shower, his wrist under the stream of water to monitor the temperature.

“You know I have done no such thing.” Spock huffed, his less alert state loosening his restraint enough to allow for such blatant emotionalism.

“Sarcasm, Spock. Somethin’ you’re gonna have to get used to if you plan on launching into the void canned in with a bunch of humans once we graduate.” Leonard was angling for a mild version of their normally acerbic exchanges, but Spock didn’t seem willing to take the bait.

“If you insist I must bathe in tepid water, I will comply, but I trust you understand the state of my health is my concern alone, and you have no power to forbid me from assisting you with your studies.”

“Bold of you to assume I want your assistance.” His final attempt to goad Spock fell just as flat as his others, and he gave a defeated sigh. “Please stay in until your skin’s returned to its normal complexion, alright?”

Spock gave a half nod and stood to the side to let Leonard pass out of the bathroom, which he did a mite faster than was strictly necessary. Sighing as Spock closed the door, Leonard began weighing the benefit of trying to study against the fact he was just worried enough to be distracted from anything too difficult. Leonard scoffed. “Who am I kidding, everything in this module is difficult enough to make me want to rip my fucking eyes out.” He continued grumbling incoherently as he made his way back to his room, throwing a dirty look at the mess of teapots, mugs, and cafetieres as he walked past it. Spock would have a hissy fit. Or, the closest thing the teachings of Surak would allow to a hissy fit. “Goddamn, green-blooded, neat-freak.” Leonard groused, frowning at the state of his room.

Leonard often consoled himself for his lack of cleanliness within the confines of his bedroom using the fact he very rarely sullied shared living areas. He liked to think of his room as a sort of nesting area; cluttered, but cosy and homely. Spock thought the state of his room was indicative of his disorganised mind and illogical outlook on life. He looked around his room, trying to decide how to partially tidy it most effectively before Spock got out of the shower.

Ultimately, he decided to leave anything that could be passed off as studying material (including, but not limited to the notes Jim had left behind on Starfleet-approved mixed martial arts) and to gather all clothing into one pile behind the door. He had just finished that and was contemplating moving some of the collection of unwashed, half-empty mugs he’d forgotten about into the sink when someone cleared their throat at the threshold of the door, causing Leonard to jump. “Goddammit, Spock, y’could’ve killed me!” He snapped, subtly kicking the sleeve of one of his hoodies behind the door.

Spock’s eyes followed his foot as he attempted this subterfuge, which lead him directly to the pile of clothes. He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Leonard. “I was unaware the human heart was so poorly designed that even one belonging to a relatively fit for duty, young man was susceptible to cardiac arrest caused by unpredictable scenarios. It leads me to wonder why Starfleet consists mostly of such an inept species.”

The adorable, sleepy Spock had disappeared, leaving the sharper, more alert, more dangerously attractive Spock that Bones was going to have a hard time not coming onto over the next year. “I think I preferred you when y’couldn’t string together a sentence.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he stepped purposefully towards Leonard’s desk. “You are hardly the image of a functioning officer after your rest cycle has been disrupted, McCoy.” He quipped, pouring over the notes Leonard had been working on before the whole tea-spilling fiasco. “You have been repeatedly transcribing the same five notes for upwards of an hour, if you maintained a constant rate of words per minute.”

Leonard shrugged, striding over to his desk to snatch the notes back defensively. “What of it?” He snapped, picking up his pad of paper (not good for the environment, but he’d loaned his PADD that he usually used for revision to Jim a week ago and wasn’t due to get it back until that weekend) and old-fashioned pen that used to belong to his mother.

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard’s odd behaviour, picking up the textbook that had started to slip down the back of the overcrowded desk to leaf through it. “It is a highly inefficient method of study. Particularly given your current time constraints.”

“Spare me the lecture, Spock. It works, and that’s all that matters.” Leonard drawled, having already resumed his scribbling, desperately attempting to commit one of the longer definitions required for the exam to memory.

“That statement has no grounds in fact, nor does your extension based on the untruth follow any semblance of logic.”

Leonard uttered a string of curses in his native tongue, making Spock consider taking Earth English classes on the side, if only to aggravate the med student in his own native tongue. Not that Spock would ever admit to such irrational motivations. “Dammit, Spock,” Leonard’s familiar growls in Standard had less venom than they usually did this early in their verbal sparring, a fact that drew Spock’s concern sharply onto the med student. “,either sit down and help a guy out, or get out and let me be. Ain’t that hard.” Spock eased himself down onto the human’s bed carefully, sitting cross-legged beside him with the textbook balanced carefully on his knee.

“I have heard you listening to music whilst studying on previous occasions. I have noted you do not tend to do so while I am meditating, however, I am doing so now. If it assists you, I would recommend you indulge.” Carefully watching the human for signs of distress while he spoke, Spock decided another snip at him would not hurt him. “Your human focus is dismal enough without depriving it of the stimulus necessary for it to operate at an acceptable level of efficiency.”

Spock watched with mild satisfaction as Leonard threw his archaic study materials down in a small rage, his eyebrows practically dancing as he spluttered furiously for exactly 3.2 seconds before responding coherently. “Why, you listen here, you green-blooded son-of-a-bitch, y’ain’t doin’ much good in this here bedroom, so you’ve got about three seconds ‘fore i throw you out!”

Spock unfurled himself and stood, but he didn’t make a move for the door. Instead, the stoic bastard moved back to Leonard’s desk, sorting papers into piles as he systemically searched the surface for something. Finally, he picked up Leonard’s music device: a miniature PADD his younger sister had constructed for her first set of practical engineering exams, programmed to run audio files only. “A’ight, give it here.” Leonard stretched out his hand, palm up, waiting for Spock to hand it over. Spock took a moment to briefly page through the audio files Leonard had equipped the tiny device with, the corners of his mouth turning down fractionally. “Somethin’ the matter, Spock?”

“I was under the impression that humans preferred to listen to classical music whilst studying?”

“That is classical, Spock.”

“I do not recognise it.”

Spock looked up just in time to watch the furrows between Leonard’s brows deepening. “Well, it’s classical, terran music, not vulcan, so I don’t suspect y’would.”

Without thinking, Spock said, “My mother made sure I was acquainted with many kinds of classical terran music as a child. I expected to recognise at least one of these songs from the information she provided me with.”

“Your mother liked terran music?”

Spock didn’t even pause to consider the trust required for him to offer an insight into his personal history. He just did. “My mother was human. I am only half-vulcan.”

“Might be half-vulcan, but you’re still a whole pain in the ass.” The rapidity of Leonard’s answer set Spock totally at ease, and the vulcan allowed himself to relax slightly in the presence of the human. “Y’still’ve done absolutely fuck all to help me, and I really do need to study. Y’can stay if y’want, but I can’t be shootin’ the breeze with you all night, y’hear?”. Spock’s look of confusion at the idiom was enough to send Leonard back on the defensive, and he was about to launch into a strong verbal eviction from his room when something almost-but-not-quite-clear quickly swept over Spock’s eyeballs. “What in the fucking HELL was that!” He shrieked, immediately grabbing his training tricorder from under his bed and scanning Spock, studies forgotten.

Spock’s alarm was only notable in his shoulders, which tensed as Leonard crowed into his personal space to a degree that would’ve been considered improper on Vulcan. Spock did not make any movement to rectify this situation. “McCoy?”. Leonard was muttering to himself as he scanned Spock for a third time. “Leonard?”

“What was that, Spock?”

“I am unclear on what it is exactly you are referring to.” Spock maintained solid eye contact with the Leonard, concern for the human’s mental well-being bubbling under his cool exterior. Leonard blinked, twice, incredulously, before putting his hand on the junction between Spock’s neck and shoulder, which was covered by his turtleneck. He looked at though he was going to say something before he went extremely pale and spluttered incoherently for a few moments before beginning anew with his tricorder scans. “Leonard?”

“Spock, something’s happening to your eyes.” He growled in response, pressing at the junction where his hand rested. “Turn your head, I want to scan it from another angle. Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing. The level of confusion I am experiencing is within normal parameters for my interactions with you.” Spock felt a wave on content pass over him when McCoy stopped scanning for a second to glare at him, before shaking his head and resuming his activities.

After a few minutes, he withdrew the scanner, dragging a hand down his face. “Spock, I don’t suppose vulcans happen to have a second pair of eyelids, do they?”

“Have your anatomy classes failed to cover that of vulcans?” Spock narrowed his eyes, deflecting from the fact that he didn’t actually know if the second eyelid was still a functioning part of vulcan biology. He’d learnt about it as a vestigial organ, but his hybrid nature had fascinated many scientists back home. One of the reasons he had decided to leave for Starfleet; Spock had hoped to avoid the invasive poking and prodding done in the name of research. That being said, the soft poking sensation of Leonard’s fingers through his shirt was far from uncomfortable, and Spock felt strange when the sensation stopped.

“We do, but the piss-poor files the VSA are willing to relinquish to us mere humans are so fucking full of redaction and contradiction that all we’ve left to work with are a few vague diagrams and thoughouly unhelpful paragraphs on the composition of vulcan blood.” Leonard took a step back from Spock, restoring the traditional respectful distance between them. Much too distant for Spock’s liking. “You’re sure you’re not going to die in the next few hours until we can get you to the sickbay tomorrow?”

“I do not need-”

“Spock, you’ve not only burnt yourself-”

“It is superficial at most, and does not require-”

“-but you’ve just discovered what might maybe be an eyelid but could equally -for all we know- be-”

“-medical attention. Your anxiety is unwarranted and your focus on your studies has waned to what could prove to be a detrimental degree if you do not-”

“-a malignant growth of some sort, you have to go to find out if that thing is hurting you or not at least-”

“-cease your illogical fussing and resume.”

“-and I- Spock are you even listening to me?” Leonard’s gradually increasing volume finally peaked out, and Spock raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Ah. shit, the neighbours.”

“At this hour, we can hope they are in a deep enough sleep not to have heard-”

“Are you kidding me Spock, I practically screamed-”

“If we continue in this vein, you will lose what little volume control you posses. Please sit down once again and I shall try and gauge how much you have prepared for this test already and we shall start from there.” Spock’s eyebrow lowered itself slowly as he relaxed once more, Leonard sitting down on the bed close to the headboard, making it easy for Spock to sit relatively close to him without making it look like anything but a logical decision for optimum viewing of the human’s notes. Not that it wasn’t motivated by logic. The fact his side was pressed soothingly to Leonard’s was a pleasant bonus. “That eyelid thing is a bit strange, you’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Spock levelled him with a flat stare. “I shall visit the nurse tomorrow if you cease this discussion.”

Leonard shrugged and dropped his head down and began working on a list of things he felt confident on for the next day in an attempt to hide his smug smile. It didn’t work, but Spock didn’t say anything.

A few hours later, they had taken a break from Spock’s relentless verbal assessments for Leonard to give his brain a chance to process the points they had been drilling and for Spock to asses the data he had collected on Leonard’s rate of retention of information to try and streamline their next bout. Except Leonard’s head had dropped onto Spock’s shoulder, and the heat from where their sides were pressed tightly together was relaxing Spock into a borderline meditative state. It was only when his chest started to vibrate lightly when Spock snapped himself back to reality, confident he had not woken his study mate with his unfortunate vulcan habit. Hubris was not a trait vulcans were capable of possessing, so Spock classed his slide in judgement as a calculation error, not as a result of unfounded pride.

“Were’y’... purrin’, Spock?” The human’s voice was muffled by Spock’s turtleneck, so the flush high on the his cheeks went unnoticed by Leonard.

“It is... an unfortunate, involuntary response of Vulcans.” Was Spock’s clipped answer, suddenly awake and almost frantically pouring over the notes he had made on Leonard’s progress.

“Mmm, sounds like more of y’all’s goddamn cagey nature. Outta be somethin’ your doctor outta know.” Leonard slowly picked himself up off of Spock’s shoulder. Spock felt irrationally irate at the loss of contact, despite the fact their sides remained pressed together. “Ah, shit. How long was I out?”

“Twelve minutes.” Was Spock’s response, glad to have moved on from his embarrassing lapse in control. Leonard’s response wasn’t forthcoming, so Spock chanced a glance at his roommate, only to find his mouth wide open, eyes closed, and seemingly struggling for breath. Spock’s basic first aid training kicked in, fully aware that humans, much like vulcans, required a constant supply of oxygen, and he began to thump at Leonard’s back, the angle much too awkward for him to apply the force necessary to dislodge whatever may have been blocking the med student’s airways. Except, the med student seemed to have cleared his airways on his own. And was using his perfectly clear airways to yell at Spock.

“The hell’re you doin’? Coulda seriously hurt me with that goddamn “superior vulcan strength” you won’t shut up about! Ain’t a fella allowed t’yawn in his own damn bedroom?”

Spock quickly stood up from the bed, and Leonard watched as the relaxed stance the vulcan had had previously completely vanished. “You appeared to be in respiratory distress. The training I have thus far received in first aid on humans required the first thing to do in such a situation would be-“

“Dammit Spock, I’m a med student, I know what t’do when someone can’t fucking breathe! I, oddly enough, was breathing just fine!”

Spock’s chin lifted fractionally, the last of his near-tender demeanour hardening. “Incorrect. Your chest ceased to rise and fall regularly, you had opened your mouth for maximum oxygen intake and yet you did not inhale, and the distress weakened you insofar as you were forced to close your eyes.”

Leonard looked at him, incredulous. “I yawned.”

“I do not understand. Does this correlate with your -“

“I yawned, you thick-skulled-“ Leonard stopped and took a breath, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Don’t worry, s’just an unfortunate, involuntary response of humans.”

Spock recognised he was being quoted, but unlike previous, malicious quotations made by various humans (including this patprticular one), his roommate did not seem to be trying to get a rise out of him, so he decided to retaliate. “That is the nature of most human responses, voluntary or otherwise.”

The outraged eyebrow that was slowly creeping up Leonard’s forehead was completely undermined by the sleepy grin that was taking over his entire face. “I’m not going to get much more study for this assent done, huh?”

“Assessment?”

“Yeah, the thing we’ve been studying for.” Leonard looked confused, but Spock’s head tilt betrayed his own befuddlement.

“You referred to it previously as an exam.” His arms crossed his chest, marring his perfect posture slightly. It looked to Leonard that, despite his confusion, his roommate was more relaxed than he had been.

“Yeah, an exam, an assessment, no difference, is there?”

Spock would later deny the look he gave Leonard was ‘incredulous’, Leonard would exaggerate his expression into one of absolute shock when retelling the tale to Jim the following evening. “There is a considerable difference, Leonard. Considering the brevity of this particular elective, the only grade that might impact your final score will be the final examination. Assessments in such a relatively insignificant elective will not affect your final grade in any serious manner.”

“It’s a matter of pride, Spock.” Leonard smiled, shaking his head. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Spock glowered down at his roommate, the expression so slight that Leonard didn’t notice it at all. The silence strung out for a moment longer than absolutely necessary before Spock sat down at the foot of Leonard’s bed. “Pride is illogical, McCoy.”

Leonard snorted, shaking his head. “Pride and spite are the only things that keep me going, take ‘em away and I wouldn’t do a thing.”

He watched as Spock’s eyebrow crept upwards, his head tipping lightly towards him. “Your finger brushed my collarbone earlier, when you touched my robes.”

Leonard went a bright red, and his respiratory distress seemed genuine this time. He leapt off of the bed, putting the distance of the width of the room between them. “Fucking shit, Spock? Why didn’t y’tell me! Fucking touch-telepathy, that was probably stupidly invasive, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit! I’m sorry. I’m fucking dense, I thought- I don’t know what I was doing, shouldn’t’ve gone near you-”

“Calm yourself Leonard-”

“And now you’re too polite to call me out on it, goddammit, we had lectures on proper conduct with vulcans, fuck-”

“Leonard.” Spock had stood and walked over to the human. Leonard was shocked when Spock put his hand on his shoulder. “There is no offence taken, do you understand?”. Leonard seemed to have lost his voice, but nodded. “I only brought up the incident because I sensed only concern and concentration from you through the contact. There was no bitterness, no concern for your pride or reputation. You saw your patient and thought of nothing but how best to administer effective and efficient treatment.”

Leonard had not made any indication of wanting to brush off his hand, so Spock decided to return to the personal space he had occupied while Leonard had been scanning him earlier. Leonard blinked several times, eyes crossing slightly to stare at the tip of Spock’s nose, only an inch, maybe less, from his own. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he swallowed hard, once. Spock’s nose had never looked so kissable. He shook his head- not an appropriate thought to be having while Spock was, wait, what was Spock saying? Leonard could hear him speaking, but his brain wasn’t processing the words correctly. Or at all. He thought maybe he was complimenting him, or maybe trying to get Leonard to explain his dry, almost self-critical comment. Hell, Spock could be reciting Shakespeare for all Leonard knew. Or cared. The vulcan’s voice was deeper than it was normally, more like it was when he had been sleepily pouring his tea earlier, less like it had been for their shared life up until today. The vibration of this deeper voice reminded him of the purring, the utter relaxation and warmth that had accompanied those vibrations, and... and Spock was still talking and Leonard still had no idea what he was saying because his mouth was moving very nicely, had his mouth always moved that nicely?

“BONES!” That voice would pull Leonard out of any dazed stupor he could possibly fall into. That voice, with that tone always meant one of two things. Jim needed his help, or Jim had done something he needed to confess to that would probably piss Leonard off. “BONES? YOU HOME?”

Spock had somehow managed to perch himself on the edge of Leonard’s desk, textbook and notes in hand, pointedly not looking at Bones. Rolling his eyes, Leonard walked out into the living area. “What the fuck have you done, Jim?”

“Bones!” Jim practically bounced over to the med student, which meant he’d absolutely fucked something up that was going to piss him off. Clapping his shoulder playfully, Jim used the momentum of his bounce to swing himself around Bones, heading for his room. “You’re not going to believe what a weird mix-up there’s been, man! So, look, I-why, hello, Mr.Spock!” Jim glanced over his shoulder with an “i-cannot-believe-you-got-the-hot-guy-we’ve-both-been-crushing-on-into-your-room’ look on his face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes comically large in mock disbelief. “What’s a hot guy like you doing in a dingy place like this?” He had turned his impish gaze back on Spock, gesturing vaguely around Leonard’s room as he mentioned the ‘dingy place’.

Spock’s face remained impassive, not betraying the flash of amusement he always felt when the younger human flirted blatantly with him. “Vulcans’ core temperatures are, on average, actually lower than that of humans.”

Where Leonard would’ve snapped back a witty counter attack in order to incite a fascinating debate, Jim simply leaned right into the lewd implications only he could draw from such a droll, basic fact. “Are you saying that you think Bones and I are hot, Mr.Spock?”. The man had far more confidence in his charismatic abilities than any other human Spock had seen knocking their own glasses off of their face when discussing something passionately with a lecturer.

Spock was about to fire back a response -noting in the back of his mind that of the friendships he had deliberately built with a select few humans in the hopes of appeasing his mother, the ones he had formed with Jim and Leonard, though not particularly strong yet, brought him a feeling of completion- when Leonard came into the room, red-faced and rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Jim, you’ll make him uncomfortable. Vulcans don’t flirt, that’d require expression of emotion.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard, mildly puzzled. Had Leonard not recognised their discussion before Jim had arrived for what it was? Was his respect and admiration of the medical student not clear?

“What is it you’ve done, Jim?” Bones had leaned himself against the door frame, staring fixedly at his ex-roommate, who was glancing between Spock and Bones with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Well, I was going to apologise for a stupid thing I did, but seeing as it wound up with all three of us in a room with a bed, I’d say no apologies needed.” Jim couldn’t keep a straight face delivering that line, his flirtatious demeanour crumbling into pure giddiness. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. S’just weird seeing the two of you together, it’s like you guys exist separately in my mind, and seeing you getting cosy in Bones’s room is just so wacky-“

“Jim!” Bones’s bark made Jim laugh even harder, and Spock allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly as Jim’s merriment grew and Leonard became more and more flustered. These humans affected Spock more than he’d care to admit, and watching them interact brought a sense of contentedness over him. “It’s fucking crazy o clock in the morning, what in the hell could’y’ve done that y’need to confess so bad?”

“Small scheduling error, Bones, no big deal! In my defence, I didn’t realise how late it is, I was reading this really cool book that Galia’s sister sent her, so far it’s been absolutely gripping, can’t put it down-“

“Jim.”

His blue eyes darted around the room nervously as he giggled anxiously. “You don’t have a test tomorrow, Bones, I do. I fucked up and logged it in the PADD you’d loaned me instead of my own PADD, so I guessed you got a reminder and I know your memory is shit outside of your studies, so I figured you’d be up cramming-“

“Jim-boy, what’d you just say? Because if you said what I think you said, I’m going to-“

“Leonard, I would not recommend engaging in a physical altercation with Jim. He has considerable more experience in such matters.”

Spock felt a shiver down his spine as Leonard’s dangerously icy glare turned on him. “Are you sayin’ y’don’t think I can take ‘im, Spock?”

“That is not what he said Bones! C’mon, how bad was it? You got to bond with your roommate, and now my two best friends are on speaking terms, at least. Sounds like a win-win to me!”

“I’m gonna need the two of y’all to get the fuck outta my room, if I’m going to get any sleep at all before tomorrow.”

Jim’s smirk got even more mischievous, the glint in his eye almost dangerous. “Maybe we’ve planned for you to get no sleep tonight, Bones.”

“I resent your implicating me in your antics, Jim.” Spock was definitely grinning, goddammit! There’s no way a vulcan could manoeuvre their mouths any further into a vague smiling shape.

“You’re not denying it-”

“Both of y’all need to shut up and go to bed, it’s late.” Leonard groused, having had enough of Jim’s playfulness, which was a bit too much for how late it was. Also, the thoughts and feelings he was invoking in Leonard with his meaningless teasing were enough for him to overthink on for the rest of his life. Jim’s pout made Bones fully aware of just how much he wouldn’t mind kissing his best friend, which reminded him of how close he had been to doing just that to his roommate, which reminded him of how it was just his fucking luck to be attracted to the two people he most defiantly shouldn’t be attracted to. The two most unattainable people on campus. He was probably a sadist. Jim sat next to Spock on his bed, and Spock had turned to mutter something in Jim’s ear. On his bed. He was absolutely a sadist.

“That’s a good point, Spock. I think it’ll be difficult to strong-arm him into spending more time with the two of us as well.”

Spock had the good grace to look up at Leonard with what could be interpenetrated as an apologetic expression. “Those were not my... exact words.”

“I’m a med student, not a socialite, dammit!” Jim was sitting very close to Spock, they looked so right together it was sickening, and Spock was clearly mooning over Jim, and Bones... Bones needed to sleep. Now. “I’ll come over to your place tomorrow after I get out of the labs at six, Jim. If Spock comes, he comes. I don’t care.” He did care. A lot.

“Seeing as two of us live in these quarters, it would be more logical for us to reconvene here, would it not?”

“Nah, Jim’s got a better replicator.”

“I’ve also got better taste in holos, so...”

“You absolutely do not-”

“I don’t think watching documentaries counts as a relaxing night in-”

“I shall be there, eighteen-hundred hours.” Spock interrupted, his expression doing nothing to ease the daydreams determinedly banging at Leonard’s subconscious as he looked between the two humans. That odd eyelid-thing slid open and shut twice, which Leonard probably shouldn’t have found cute when he didn’t know whether or not it was hurting Spock. But he did, nonetheless.

Jim clapped Spock’s shoulder, which stopped the eyelid blinking, and resulted in a rather cat-like freezing of his entire frame. “Excellent!” Jim jumped up, bouncing out the bedroom door. “It’s a date, gentlemen!” And he was gone before Leonard’s outraged spluttering could hold him up.

“It’s not a- dammit, we’re not- Spock-”

Spock stopped to place his hand on Leonard’s shoulder, deliberately making eye-contact. “To borrow Jim’s turn of phrase, ‘it’s a date’, Leonard.”

And that rendered Leonard totally speechless, left staring mutely at Spock’s retreating back. What the fuck kind of emotional fuckery had he gotten himself into?

#im feral for spones goddamnit #spones #spock #bones #bones mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #leonard mccoy #academy au #author is lazy so joanna is bones's sister #jim kirk is in here somewhere #jim kirk #basically me projecting onto bones for over 2000 words #this would've been a little bit more legible if i'd focused it on either bones or spock but i DIDNT DO THAT #this is the definition of self-gratuitous #star trek #fic #star trek fic #wait no projecting onto bones for over 4000 words im so sorry #spock doesn't know what a yawn is and thinks leonard is dying #bones doesnt know about the vulcan second eyelid and thinks bones is dying #also purring is in here #becuase i am HERE FOR vulcans=logical cats #bored writes #mckirk #i guess #that wasnt meant to happen but here we are #also mcspirk #mcspirk #hakhalkhsalkha #me projecting onto bones for around 6000 words because i literally dont shut up ever

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cxhnow · 4 years

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R&B duo (and real-life sisters) Chloe and Halle Bailey have unparalleled talent and an unbreakable bond. With a “sexy, darker” new sound and exciting solo projects on the way, the multihyphenates are all grown up and ready for their second act — both together and on their own. "You. Look. Stunning!" Halle Bailey watches as her older sister Chloe poses in a faux-leather Nanushka trench coat against a vibrant background of red and pink, Kelis's album Tasty blaring through the studio. Halle's eyes dart between the shots popping up on the monitor and the real-life vision that is 21-year-old Chloe, who smirks at her sister's instructions to "slay" and "work" as they echo in the cavernous studio. Chloe returns the favor when it's 19-year-old Halle's moment in front of the lens; being photographed separately is a rare occurrence for the pair. Chloe cheers Halle on as the latter poses in a houndstooth Area dress, nipped at the waist with a patent leather belt, and matching knee-high boots: "That's gorgeous! You're beautiful." When Chloe and Halle arrive at Milk Studios in Hollywood for our cover shoot on Oct. 29, the energy is celebratory; they are fresh from the set of the Freeform series Grown-ish. Chloe and Halle graduated from recurring roles on the Black-ish spinoff to series regulars for season two, playing college students and track star twins Jazz and Sky Forster. They — along with cast members Yara Shahidi, Trevor Jackson, Francia Raisa, and Luka Sabbat — just wrapped filming on the third season, which premieres Jan. 16. The next installment of the show promises an unplanned pregnancy, an acting debut from Kylie Jenner's former BFF Jordyn Woods, and a much-appreciated homage to Beyoncé's 2018 Homecoming performance. It's also a busy time for Chloe x Halle's music: in 2019 they dropped two singles, "Who Knew" and "Thinkin Bout Me," and are putting the finishing touches on their highly anticipated second studio album, Ungodly Hour, which drops this year. They are buzzing while talking about their new, more mature sound. "It's more grown; it's sexy, it's darker," Halle tells me. She and her sister showed up in laid-back looks before undergoing superhero-style transformations in a curtained-off section of the studio, where they snacked on chips and guacamole and drank green juice while trying on dozens of potential designer outfits. They are sweet and petite, and during a break from the photo shoot, they sit side by side on a velvet ottoman across from me. Both are wearing curve-hugging dresses by Dion Lee and have traded their matching Alevì Milano heels for slippers and slides. Chloe and Halle are defining themselves individually even more than before, and their style is part of that. Throughout the day, Halle will rock playfully sexy ensembles (my personal favorite is a Carrie Bradshaw-esque Maison Margiela button-down shirt cinched with a Zana Bayne belt). Chloe's outfits are equally grown-up and sexy, but with an edgy sophistication — she will channel Olivia Pope, smizing in a camel-colored Fendi trench coat and graphic Sophia Webster heels. Their looks will always complement each other but still reflect the woman wearing them. Their eyes are wide, their mocha skin glistening, braids cascading down their backs. The mood feels highly melanated and highly favored. Chloe and Halle's connection goes beyond the typical sibling bond — they are collaborators, costars, and best friends. It's what makes the stakes of this next stage of their career, as they explore a more adult sound and divergent career opportunities of their own, so high. To see them posing together is like watching a delicately choreographed dance. It's as if they each instinctively know which way the other is about to lean her arm or turn her head and will shift congruously. Between shots, Chloe and Halle smooth each other's braids, bump shoulders to the bass of "Milkshake," or talk in hushed tones. Chloe is the textbook older sister and ultimate hype girl ("The angel that's always in my ear," Halle tells me). "We'll always squeeze each other's hands or look in each other's eyes and crack a joke," Chloe says, admitting that they both sometimes feel anxious while posing on the red carpet or for photo shoots like this one. I recognize their subtle movements, exchanged glances, and seemingly secret language; it reminds me of the way that my sister and I — and sisters everywhere, really — exist in our own universe. Chloe and Halle spent their childhood in Atlanta before moving to LA, where they reside today with their parents Courtney and Doug and their 14-year-old brother, Branson ("We're the Three Musketeers," Chloe says). In 2011, they launched their YouTube channel with an impressive cover of Beyoncé's "Best Thing I Never Had." Wearing matching red tank tops and bouncy braided bobs, they showed off melodies reminiscent of vocalists well beyond their years (Chloe was 13, Halle just 11). They would go on to cover hits from John Legend, Alicia Keys, Lorde, and Rihanna. In 2015, their rendition of Beyoncé's "Pretty Hurts" got the attention of Bey herself, and she signed the duo to her Parkwood Entertainment management company. And, as they tell me, being the protégés of a megastar like Beyoncé is a masterclass in ambition. "She's a boss and she takes care of her own," Chloe says. "She's independent and knows what she wants, and she's not afraid to articulate that." They employ their mentor's take-charge attitude by trusting their instincts when making tough career choices. "That's what we truly admire about Beyoncé . . . she's allowed us to grow in our own right, and as much as she is vocal, she lets us fly on our own." Up until now, Chloe x Halle's sound has been bright, ethereal R&B soul; they released their debut EP Sugar Symphony in 2016, followed by a critically praised mixtape, The Two of Us. Their 2018 album The Kids Are Alright — with jazz-inflected trap-pop songs like "Happy Without Me," "Everywhere," and the Grown-ish theme song "Grown" — showcased their angelic harmonies, earning them Grammy nominations for best new artist and best urban contemporary album. They solidified their place in history with a chill-inducing performance of "America the Beautiful" at the 2019 Super Bowl. But with age comes experience and, yes, growth. The new Chloe x Halle era will reflect their sisterhood and the kind of women they aspire to be: powerful, strong, and effortlessly sexy. "We're not little kids anymore," Chloe tells me. Their sound has evolved from light and airy soul-pop into "edgier, grittier" R&B, like something you'd want to hear during an episode of Euphoria. They teased new music during an "electric, intense, and fun" performance at The Forum in LA late last year. "We played two new songs; 'Do It' — that's one of our favorites — and 'Rest of Your Life,'" Halle tells me during a phone conversation after the shoot. She describes both tracks as being high energy with party vibes. While Ungodly Hour will be a clear departure, the sisters seem to be more musically aligned than ever. Chloe and Halle say there's no formula to their music-making process. "We feel like that takes away any creativity," Chloe explains. They went delightfully old school for brainstorming sessions, filling two or three poster boards with magazine cutouts representing what the new project should feel like. Before creating music, they keep things breezy by having "tea time and girl chat" and narrowing down the themes they want to write about. "I'll make a beat and Halle will hear some really sick melodies and go on the mic and record them," Chloe says. "I'll lay some melodies down and splice [them] together, and then we do lyrics, but we never force it." Halle nods. "It's much like throwing paint on a wall and seeing what happens, and that's the beauty of it." When I ask how they landed on the album title Ungodly Hour, Halle tells me that it came from a single studio session with English electro artists Disclosure. "They are two brothers, and they're literally like mirrors of us," Halle says of duo Howard and Guy Lawrence, who they worked with on the up-tempo title track. "[Ungodly hour] was a phrase for that riff. We kind of spoke it into existence, you could say," Chloe continues. She reveals that one of their early mood boards included the phrase "The Trouble With Angels" (possibly a nod to the 1966 religious comedy starring Hayley Mills?), and notes how exciting it's been to tie those themes together. I spent hours holed up in my childhood bedroom plastering editorial images on any available surface, so it's nice to hear that some methods will never go out of style. But let's not get it twisted: Chloe and Halle aren't two girls making cute collages — they're artists with a precise vision and the talent to execute it. Their technique is free-flowing, but there's a keen attention to detail that influences those working with them. Singer-songwriter Victoria Monét, who helped pen chart-toppers for Fifth Harmony and Ariana Grande, collaborated with Chloe and Halle on Ungodly Hour. She confirmed my theory that they are Black girl magic personified. "I really admire their spirit," Monét said over email. "They feel amazing to be around, and their voices represent that." "They're so hands-on with everything, from melodies to lyrics and production," Nija Charles said over email. The 22-year-old songwriting phenom produced hits for Cardi B and Summer Walker and worked on the sisters' sensual kiss-off "Forgive Me." "Watching them work always makes me go back home and want to perfect my craft." Hands-on is certainly one way to describe the sisters, who play a role in writing, arranging, producing, and playing instruments on nearly all of their own music. What does it mean to two young, gifted, and Black businesswomen to have so much creative control of their work? "Since we were young, our parents instilled in us the power to do things on our own, and not rely on people if [we're] just as capable," Halle says. This encouragement is what motivated them to learn instruments and produce their own music as preteens. Although extraordinary on their own, Chloe and Halle are quick to praise those who have inspired them along the way. I can tell they harbor a deep sense of sisterhood within their own circle, a tight-knit group of family and close friends with the occasional superstar thrown in. It's galvanizing for them to see other young stars doing equally amazing things. "I stan over Zendaya. I love her, and Normani," Chloe says, beaming. "There are so many amazing women right now, and I'm just happy to be a part of this generation with them." Halle agrees, shouting out Grown-ish castmates Yara Shahidi, Francia Raisa, and Emily Arlook as women who uplift them when they're low. The feeling is mutual for 19-year-old Shahidi, who told me being part of Chloe and Halle's atmosphere is "truly a gift." "We share successes, challenges, frustrations, everything!" Shahidi said in an email. "I define sisterhood as an eternal bond with your best friend," Halle tells me. "I'm so fortunate that I get to do this with my sister every day." She looks up to Chloe more than anyone else; after all, as an older sibling, there's a responsibility (and sometimes pressure) to protect, guide, and set a good example. But Chloe is just as heart-eyed about Halle and lights up when talking about her. "Forget all the business stuff and the music and acting; this is my best friend," she says. "Whenever we're apart for 15 minutes, we're like, 'I miss you!' We're texting each other, FaceTiming. I love this one." I make a mental note to respond to unread texts from my sister. "You'll need each other one day" is something I heard a lot growing up, especially when being reprimanded for terrorizing my younger sister. And it occurs to me that Halle and Chloe might need each other even more this year. In 2020, they are each embarking on big solo projects: Chloe in the supernatural thriller The Georgetown Project, her first major movie role as an adult, and Halle as Ariel in the upcoming live-action adaptation of The Little Mermaid. For Chloe, a self-professed scaredy cat, working on the "sophisticated horror film" with the likes of Russell Crowe, Ryan Simpkins, Samantha Mathis, and David Hyde Pierce has been a real game changer. "When I got the script, I fell in love with it. I was like, 'I have to do this,'" Chloe tells me. The movie follows a troubled actor (Crowe) who unravels while filming a thriller, and Chloe plays an actress cast alongside him in the project. She learned a lot about herself during the production process, but more importantly, she conquered her fear of scary movies. "I know how it works behind the scenes, so now when a scary movie trailer comes on, I don't close my eyes." When the topic turns to The Little Mermaid, Halle's enthusiasm is palpable. "It's so overwhelming, and beautiful, and breathtaking. I'm like, 'Wow, am I really doing this?'" she tells me. When I ask what she hopes to bring to such an iconic character, Halle takes a beat. "Freshness," she says. "Just being authentically me. It's amazing that the directors have been so forward in asking me to show my true self . . . that's been a really fun growing experience." Halle also tells me that she's most looking forward to the music ("Of course!"), and reveals that the movie will feature classics like "Part of Your World" and new songs written by composer Alan Menken, who scored the 1989 animated film. "I've been a fan of The Little Mermaid since I was 5, so those new songs are very exciting to me, as well as the old," Halle says. "That's probably like, ding, ding, ding! My number one." Halle's history-making casting news was announced in July 2019 and marked a major win for diversified representation, but drew criticism from those who don't think a Black woman should play a fictional sea creature. The defense came swiftly: Little Mermaid director Rob Marshall and Jodi Benson, the original voice of Ariel, showed support, as did Beyhive members worldwide. After spending a day in her presence, I can corroborate that Halle — with her doe eyes, dulcet-tone voice, and winsome charm — was born to play the role. I ask how she approaches the downsides that can come with celebrity. "It's beautiful that people are tuning in to our lives and that they love what we're doing, and I just think of them as friends," she says, unfazed. Chloe's older-sister senses are tingling. She sits up a little straighter. "You know when certain apps crash?" I do; a Twitter blackout is secretly one of my favorite things. "Who are you without these things, without your followers? You realize that you can't rely on outside validation for who you are as a human being. If I think I'm amazing, then I'm amazing." The sisters have flourished in the industry as Chloe x Halle the duo, two halves of a preternaturally talented whole. They appear at events together, maintain joint social media accounts, and don’t have separate Wikipedia pages (though that’s certainly going to change). They’re a dream team, navigating fame by leaning on each other. Working separately allows them to stretch as individuals, but as their careers evolve, it’s inevitable that their relationship will, too. Chloe seems genuinely joyful watching Halle grow into her own. “I see it happening right before my eyes and it makes me really happy,” she says. But those feelings of pride haven't come without a bit of loneliness, too — especially as Chloe films her first solo project. "In the beginning I was really, really sad," she tells me. There have been plenty of tears and, according to Chloe, plenty of text messages, too. "[Halle] texts all the time; daytime, all the time," Chloe laughs. "To have someone who's always in your corner encouraging you, and making you feel better when you're down . . . it's just such a good feeling. I'm just happy to have her as my partner in crime in life." Naturally, it’s also been “a little scary” for Halle, who admits that she’s been clinging to her sister over the years. Just as Chloe is the consummate firstborn, Halle fits snugly into her role as little sis, always looking to her “safety blanket.” She tells me that visiting Chloe on the set of The Georgetown Project gave her a new perspective. "I was just so proud of her, because you always want to see your beautiful sister succeed," Halle says. "We always do those monumental things together, so when I was able to be on the outside and look in, it was really cool." Ultimately Halle realized that — like gluing magazine cutouts to poster boards — some things don’t have to change: “Regardless of if I'm branching out, she's always going to be there. That bond and our sisterhood will never go away.” Though some things may be mapped out — production schedules, release dates, fishtail fittings — so much more lies ahead for Chloe and Halle. I ask where they see each other in five years. Halle springs up; she sees Chloe with every award in the book. “She’s going to flourish. What do you call it? EGOTs?” Chloe’s five-year vision includes even more plastered photos, but this time they’re of Halle, and they’re on giant billboards across the world. “I’ll be hearing her voice [singing] while walking down the street like, ‘Who is that? Oh yeah, that's my sister. I know her. You don't,’” she says. The three of us laugh, but their predictions aren’t out of the realm of possibility. Their Grown-ish costars agree: actor Trevor Jackson tells me he hopes to see them collecting armfuls of trophies and “truly dominating the world.” Shahidi insists Chloe and Halle’s hard work knows no bounds and remembers them simultaneously filming season one of Grown-ish and mixing their debut album, The Kids Are Alright. “The sky is not even the limit,” she cosigned. Chloe and Halle have more to shoot before the sun sets in smoky LA. It's been a long day, but their energy is still straight-up sparkly. We wrap up our conversation, exchanging thank yous before they disappear to the wardrobe area. They'll model more effortlessly sexy pieces from Nina Ricci and Fendi, cheerleading each other during lighting changes and eye shadow touch-ups, before the day gives way to night. As the sky changes, so does the vibe. Chloe is jetting off to North Carolina to film tomorrow morning without her sister, and they seem to be soaking up this moment in time. Things are coming to a close both on set and in their lives, chapters ending and new ones beginning. But no matter what comes next — together or separately, making music or making moves — Chloe and Halle will keep throwing paint at the wall and seeing what beautiful things come out of it. There's no magic formula. It's just what we sisters do. ★

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knifeshoeoreofight · 5 years

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Sidney does not purposely seek Evgeni out in the subsequent days, but he cannot help but notice him as he happens upon him, being shown around the house by Cullen, following Mrs. Bullano with a heavy trunk lifted on his shoulder, and once, raking out the stables in his shirtsleeves. His neck and forearms had been bare, and his thin linen shirt had been soaked with sweat.

Sidney is not a little alarmed at his own reaction to the man. And Evgeni’s regaining his health has not helped matters. He laughs loudly and often, and he has a booming voice that is modulated more for a ship’s deck than a great house. His manner of speech is unique, and as he grows comfortable with his situation he speaks more and seems less afraid of using novel phrasing of his own invention to convey his meaning.

He’s a bright epicenter of noise and feeling, and he pulls people in towards him like moths to a flame. He teases the housemaids, but so as they laugh rather than grow fearful or annoyed. He jokes with the footmen and teaches Russian curses to the stable boys. He complains and whines when beset by Mrs. Bullano but then does what she asks, and more. He tells Dumoulin the food is much better in Russia but then falls upon everything he makes with such alacrity that it is clear how much he enjoys it.

Sidney is hopelessly charmed by all of it, and he shouldn’t be. Evgeni is under his protection and his employ. Sidney had decided from a very young age, suffering under the less than charitable attentions of the young men at Oxford who had outranked him, what kind of man he was going to be, and how he was going to treat those around him. He’d seen the kinds of things other young men of the nobility and gentry did to their servants. He’d sworn he’d be different.

He will be, he tells himself. Shipwrecked strangers may have all the broad shoulders and long legs and gentle brown eyes imaginable, Sidney will still hold fast by his principles.

***

For some reason Sidney cannot ascertain, Evgeni has taken some kind of stubborn idea in his head about Sidney’s habits, because instead of one of the maids, like as not, it’s Evgeni who brings him his supper tray on the nights that Sidney is absorbed by his papers for a proper meal.

Not only that, but if Sidney simply smiles and sets the tray to one side, Evgeni hovers and looms in a most unservile manner until Sid relents and puts down his quill and eats something.

How smug he looks then isn’t very servant-like either, but Sidney cannot find it in himself to take offense.

After a few weeks Evgeni seems to feel himself at home, because after bringing Sidney a supper tray he sprawls in the chair opposite the desk and grins at him.

“Isabella and her mama visit today,” he says conversationally. Sid raises his eyebrows. He privately welcomes any time spent in Evgeni’s presence, but he’s never made presumptions of remaining with Sid while he eats before.

Still grinning widely, Evgeni reaches into the pocket of his coat, and pulls out a tiny black and white kitten. It’s small enough for Evgeni to cradle in one of his hands. Or rather, Evgeni’s hand is large enough to cradle it.

It opens its mouth and emits an indignant, high-pitched mew. Sidney has always had a soft spot for children and animals alike and cannot suppress a smile as it bats the air with one miniscule paw. He reaches out for it and Evgeni gently places the kitten into Sidney’s hands. His fingers brush against Sid’s.

“Hello,” Sidney tells it as it mews again. “What a charming creature. How it is that you are so small and yet so loud, little one?” He scratches the kitten under its chin and it starts purring, also loudly.

Evgeni laughs softly, and Sid can feel his cheeks color. He should not let others see him getting soppy over a baby animal like this.

“Dumo was right,” Evgeni says. “Glad you like. Is little girl. No name yet.”

She is still purring and has started to knead at Sidney’s coat at he holds her to his chest. Her eyes squeeze closed.

Sidney clears his throat, trying and probably failing to regain his dignity, while still cradling the kitten to him like an infant. “Boudicca. She was an ancient British queen. Or perhaps Athena. Something fierce. She will be a great help in keeping vermin from the storerooms.”

“Of course, мой господин” Evgeni says, eyes twinkling as though he is attempting not to laugh. Sidney supposes he isn’t fooling anyone.

He gives up. “Or, Betsy.”

“There’s already cow called Betsy, in dairy shed,” Evgeni helpfully supplies.

“Well.” Sidney tries to look serious as the kitten attempts to climb his waistcoat. “What would you name a cat in Russia?”

Evgeni considers the kitten with a smile, as she hooks tiny needle claws into Sidney’s cravat, apparently not content until she is as close as possible to his face.

“Would maybe call, ‘Kошка’.”

“Koshka?” Sidney repeats. “It’s very pleasant-sounding.”

Evgeni laughs softly. “Just mean ‘girl cat’.”

“I like it,” Sidney says, half about the name and half about the way the syllables of it had sounded tumbling from Evgeni’s lips. “Very well.”

Evgeni is apparently satisfied that he has managed to induce Sid to accept both supper and cat. He takes his leave, and Sid tries to get back to work and not to think overmuch.

It is difficult to return to a treatise on agricultural drainage methods when where is a kitten on one’s desk, determined to maul one’s quill pen and to step in any and all freshly applied ink.

Difficult too, to apply oneself to so dry a task when one cannot stop thinking about wide, pleased smiles and the insolent sprawl of long limbs.

***

They have some weeks of cold, bright weather, freezing the ground and painting all with frost of a morning.

One particularly biting evening, Sid finds himself with a few quiet hours to pen a letter to Taylor. His younger sister and her husband live in Kent. Taylor is very happy with Lord Jarry and well-pleased with running a household of her own, but Sidney misses her terribly.

He first has all the news of the estate to relate to her, and then the doings of anyone he knows she would like news of.

It isn’t until he’s writing “I am glad Evgeni is settled so well, he is a great help to Mrs. Bullano as well as Cullen-” that he pauses, looks back over all that he’s written, and sees Evgeni’s name mentioned time and again,the letters of it leaping incriminatingly out from the page.

That letter finds its way to the fireplace, and he had to begin again.

***

Try as Sid might to keep himself from thinking overmuch of Evgeni, Evgeni seems to be everywhere he looks.

Sidney meets him on the road to Ydhyn Dhu, as he returns from a ride into Truro to speak with his solicitor. To Sid’s amusement, Evgeni, while willing to work in the stables, views horses with a very sailor-like mistrust, and leans away with a frown when Cole attempts to snuffle at his hair.

“He is very gentle,” Sidney says with a laugh.

Evgeni’s expression grows even more dubious. “Still big,” he says, side-stepping the beast as Cole starts to nose at the pockets of his coat in hopes of treats. “You let him do!”

Sidney has indeed been letting the reins hang completely slack on purpose. “Harmless! As good hearted and loyal as a hound.”

“Don’t like dog either,” Evgeni says. “You spoil, he’s look for candy!”

“I am, I admit, perhaps too lenient with him. It is a perpetual failing, I was often told,” Sid finds himself growing grave at the reminder of the censure he’d received on that score.

“No,” Evgeni says, aspect suddenly gentler. “It’s good.” He reaches gingerly out to stroke at Cole’s muzzle, then, emboldened, to scratch the star on his forehead. Cole closes his eyes and leans into him. Sidney stares down at the top of Evgeni’s head, willing himself not to feel anything.

The moment is broken by a sudden shout and clamor from further up the road, where a cluster of cottages belonging to Sidney’s tenants lie. Sidney’s blood turns to ice in his veins when he sees a column of black smoke belching into the sky. He curses.

“Go,” Evgeni cries, and Sid reaches an arm down for him.

“They’ll need everyone to hand. Hold on and you will come to no harm, I swear it.”

Evgeni gives him a sharply considering look, and nods. He takes Sidney’s arm, and gets one foot up on the stirrup so he can swing himself over behind Sid. Sidney thanks heaven in that moment that Cole isn’t some delicate hunter, but the result of a cart horse getting loose among his father’s thoroughbreds. Cole flicks his ears at the considerable added weight but bears it easily enough.

Sidney wheels Cole around to head back to the estate, at as fast a pace as is safe with Cole carrying two.

Evgeni has his arms clasped around Sidney’s waist but he cannot spare a thought for it, foreboding rising in him just like the smoke ahead.

When they reach the cottages, there is chaos. The buildings themselves are stone, but the roofs are thatch, and Sidney’s heart sinks when he sees that the roof of one of them is completely aflame. Sparks from a faulty chimney, perhaps, compounded by the recent spate of dry weather.

There are people shouting and running about, buckets being hurriedly drawn at the well, and run up ladders to be thrown over the thatch of neighboring cottages to protect their roofs. Sidney can see that the one afire is a lost cause. He and Evgeni both slide from the horse. Sidney grabs on to the arm of a bystander.

“Is everyone out?” he asks, and the man nods.

“Far as we know, my lord.”

A lost roof can be repaired. People are irreplaceable. Sidney loops Cole’s reins over a fence rail and throws the coat he’d been wearing across the saddle. As he’s rolling up his sleeves, ready to lend his aid where Evgeni is already helping, a woman’s scream slices through the noise of men and flames.

“Where’s my Nessa!” the woman wails, and Sidney sees Evgeni’s head whip around.

“Is baby?” he shouts. “Inside?” The woman just collapses, sobbing. Before anyone can move, Evgeni has bolted, straight towards the deathtrap of a house and through the doorway, the lintel of it already wreathed in livid flame.

Sidney takes off after him, not sure what he means to do. Stop him? Help him?

Hands clutch at him and haul him back. “No, my lord! It’s suicide! We cannot lose you!”

Sidney watches in horror as a massive section of burning thatch caves in on the house below.

One second. Two. Three.

He’s not sure how long it’s been, when there’s movement at the window of the house, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood. And there Evgeni is, handing a bundle of singed cloth off to eager hands and clambering over the sill. He falls, gasping, to the ground just as a gout of flame roils from the window like the seeking tongue of a demon.

“Evgeni!” Sidney cries, as two men haul Evgeni to his feet and drag him, coughing, away from the house.

“Baby?” Evgeni says hoarsely, when Sid reaches his side. Sid looks over at the cluster of people surrounding the mother and her babe, safely out of the reach of the smoke.

“Come,” Sidney says, taking Evgeni’s arm from the man holding it. He needs to touch him, needs to make sure he is well. “Let us go and see.”

When they reach the mother and her child, Sid goes limp with relief to make out the thin wail of a baby. The mother catches sight of Evgeni.

“Thank you,” she sobs. Evgeni shakes his head, but smiles as men clap him on the shoulder and an old woman takes his face in her hands to kiss his soot-smeared cheeks.

“All will be repaired posthaste, I swear it,” Sidney says, and the man of the house nods in thanks, his face etched with lines of fear and relief.

Sidney looks around him, at the faces of his people and at Evgeni as he leans down to stroke the cheek of the babe he saved. Despite the wan cast to everyone’s expressions the moment feels imbued with rightness. If Evgeni had needed to prove himself, this event would have sufficed entirely.

Everyone is so preoccupied that the sudden rattle and jingle of a coach and four take them all by surprise.

Sidney recognizes the vehicle and grits his teeth. Magistrate Bettman. What the devil is he doing here? Could there be a worse moment for that odious little goblin to come sniffing around?

Bettman leans out of the carriage, a lace-bordered handkerchief held delicately to his nose.

“Good heavens, Lord Crosby. What a ruckus.”

Sidney keeps his tone bland and even. “Indeed. What brings you this way, sir?”

“Oh.” The man sniffs. He’s pretending to be nonchalant but Sidney can see the smugness rolling off of him in waves.”I had heard some troubling rumors, my lord troubling indeed. I do not wish to offend—“

What rot. In Sidney’s experience, Bettman lives to offend.

“-but I’d heard insinuations that you, Lord Crosby, were harboring a foreign degenerate at your estate. A criminal, even.”

Bettman’s greedy little beetle eyes are glittering with malice, and he stares at Evgeni like a spoiled child eyeing a cake he is about to steal from the table.

Sidney’s heart pounds in his ears. Evgeni has gone stiff with fear beside him. Holding him up as he is, Sidney can feel him begin to tremble. He chances a look. Evgeni has gone palest white, and the faces of the people around them look stricken.

In the silence, the baby’s fussing is loud, and it reminds Sidney that this man just leapt through fire for someone else. This man wants to stay here. This gentle, big-hearted man will be hanged or transported if he is taken before the courts once again.

Sidney cannot bear it, and in desperation, does the only thing that comes to his frantic brain.

He draws himself up, adopting the cold sneer of command that he has seen others level as a weapon. He laces his tone with every bit of ancestral ice he can muster. In rank and in fortune he is far, far beyond Bettman, and Bettman knows it.

“You say you do not wish to give offense, Bettman. However, I am afraid, for your sake, that you do. How dare you speak of my fiancé this way?”

He has one beautiful moment of triumph, watching Bettman’s look of livid consternation, before full realization hits him, crushing the air from his lungs.

Oh god.

Oh, god. What has he done?

Part 5

#meurgerys #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #dana writes a thing

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years

Photo

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Jess!

You have been accepted for the role of LILY EVANS! We really enjoyed reading your application. We especially loved the moments in your app where you showed that Lily is not perfect. You really gave us a clear view on both her strengths and her flaws. Her failed career as a healer was just an example of that! We are so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Jess

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: GMT+10

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I tend to be fairly active, my goal is usually not to let 3 days pass without doing my replies and I generally meet this (unless I have left a uni assignment to the last minute!)

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A for triggers

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Lily Geraldine Evans

AGE: 21

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisfemale, she/her. Pansexual/Conceives of herself as heterosexual

BLOOD STATUS: Muggle-born

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: No thanks!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Lily Evans was made Head Girl in her final year at Hogwarts for more reasons than simply being a figurehead for Albus Dumbledore’s pro Muggle-born ideologies – although certainly, that helped. Known by many of her teachers and peers for being quick-witted and intelligent, the fact that she came to magic later than most of her peers did not hold her back for long. Lily’s intelligence soon helped her excel at magic, seemingly gifted at charming and conjuring all manner of magical items. She has a particular strength for defensive magic and healing, while her fondness for Potions rests in her stubborn and comforting belief that it is the most similar to the Muggle ways she employed in her youth, that the simple Muggle methods of hands and brain are just as powerful. Offensive magic is more of a struggle for Lily, she is by no means a natural fighter, although it is something she determinedly works on.

Also known for her kindness, Lily has an open heart and is truly an extrovert. She delights in the company of people and is always teasing someone or other, a fond smile and a ringing laugh never far from her countenance. In fact, lightly teasing others is her foremost means of showing affection, though this is something that never (or at least, rarely) strays into cruelty.

Kindness, however, is by no means softness. It is true that Lily believes in forgiveness, but she also has high standards and expects them to be met. Her love is not unconditional, and nor is her forgiveness. Her principles and ideals are close to her heart and for others to stray for them or betray them is to be met with Lily’s anger. She is forgiving, but not endlessly so, and does not forgive unless the merit is there, unless she decides the person deserves it. She is also used to being in the position of judgement, not to being the judged, which tends to bring out her self-righteous side, being so clear on what she believes to be right and wrong. When Lily is in the wrong, she struggles to admit it, having a strong sense of pride. She can become prickly and defensive, not so much playing the role of peacemaker as she is inclined to retreat, wounded. It’s a part of herself she’d often only seen in conflict with Petunia - maybe even a part of herself that mirrored Petunia. Resentment. And a sense of selfish pride, wounded self-righteousness so deep, it was easier to push the loved one away than apologise, than try to repair damage done. It’s not a quality Lily likes about herself, but it’s also one intrinsic, perhaps learnt by both at their parents’ knee.

Rightfully a Gryffindor, Lily is fierce and true. Her ideals always lead her to action, she is not one to sit back, even if she is not necessarily suited for a fight by nature. That does not stop her. Bravery runs quick and deep within her, and in fact, the more opposition she receives, the more she is inclined to push back. Her bravery then, extends to a defiant streak – even to provocation. Lily tends to take pleasure in talking back to those she scorns, in daring them to insult her, in attempting to prove herself above their scorn. There is indeed something desperate inside of her, a thirst to prove herself better than all that has been said about her kind.

Behind this solid sense of pride, however, lies a more sensitive side. Disapproval, disappointment - Lily hates letting people down, associating conflict with rejection. For that she can probably thank Petunia. When she found magic, she lost a best friend, her sister. When she found magic did not want her, she lost a best friend yet again, Severus. It is one thing to deal with the rejection of a whole world (or at least, so the Death Eaters and their allies often seem, a crushing weight) – that, Lily can shrug off, shoulders high, defiant until the end. But the two people she thought cared for her most, loved her most … that can only hurt, even still, years later. Lily remains insecure that she is not truly loved, that ultimately, she will lose people, no matter how much they seem to care for her now.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Lily grew up in the industrial town of Cokeworth, in the Midlands of England. The daughter of Adrian and Geraldine Evans, she has an older sister, Petunia Evans (now Dursley). For many years, her family was a close one, her parents strived hard to make it that way. The Evans parents used flower names for both of their two daughters. This was not particularly due to a family tradition or any reason other than that Geraldine Evans liked the idea of connecting her two children to each other. She was always glad they were born so close in age because she never had any siblings and wished for a sister for a best friend. The girls’ closeness growing up delighted her, at least until it ended with a letter in green ink, carried by a bird.

Four lends itself neatly to division, and it was true enough for the Evans family, Lily her father’s daughter and Petunia all their mother’s. This is true in appearance as much as personality: Lily’s looks are from the Evans side of the family, she shares her red hair with her father and both are more heavily built, while Petunia looks more like their mother - pale hair and bony features.

But at first, there was no problem, not for any of them. Lily was the fearless one, climbing trees and playing in the mud – but Petunia did it all with her, too. That was the thing – the part Lily cannot forget. Petunia always followed her, despite not caring for dirt and mud mess, and Lily worshipped her for it.

Meanwhile, Geraldine was cloying, clingy, she tried to hold on hard to her girls, even Lily, who would disappear to a world she could not know. Adrian was quieter, stiller – Lily could always come to him. It’s easier now, when she has so much to hide from her family, barely seeing them, desperate to keep them from danger or any association with her. She avoids going home, missing her family, but struggling under the weight of the lies, as she tries to keep any knowledge of the war from them. Adrian asks much less of Lily. The downside to that, of course, is that he lets her slip away. Though generally seen as having taken after her father, Lily has something of her mother’s nature, too, something shared with Petunia. She can never let things go, her heart is one that holds on. To the good and the bad.

OCCUPATION:

Lily always wanted to become a Potioneer, brewing potions was her favourite subject and the part of magic she liked most, even if she was never as talented as Severus. She liked the fact that potions took brains more than it took magic, that it used hands, not a wand. But, with a war going on around her, it seemed decidedly less than useful. She became a Healer Trainee instead, thinking she would be in the best position to help others and to learn important spells she might use to save those in the Order at a time of crisis. The problem was that Lily was never truly dedicated to this role. Yes, many victims of the Death Eaters came into the hospital, but it was rarely the case that Trainee Healers were entrusted with cases of Dark magic. Lily was mostly fixing the accidental magic mishaps underage wixen got themselves into - dull and draining work. Even more than that, her higher loyalty was always to the Order, the war remaining her priority. Lily had less and less time to study the healing magic she needed for her job, focusing far more of her energy on missions for the Order, to the extent she even missed shifts at times. It only got worse as she began working with the Task Force - finding something she was truly passionate about meant she kept even less time for her Healing studies. She wasn’t exactly fired, but it became clear that she was not performing to the required level and had to leave the program. Even though she was hardly happy at the hospital, this fact burns. Lily Evans, who was supposed to have such a bright future. The failure is a blemish on her record, yet another thing that has gone wrong in her life since leaving Hogwarts, yet another way she seems to be incapable of living up to the image everyone has of her.

As it is, she works solely for the Order now and lives off James’ money. This fact too is something that weighs Lily down, that she can never stop thinking about. She never wanted to be dependent on him, on anyone. Sure, she didn’t make much as a Trainee Healer, couldn’t contribute her fair share to their home, but at least she had something of her own. It’s something at the back of her mind whenever she is with James.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Lily has a desire to impress, she always had. Somehow surrounding herself with rebels, all of them heedless and reckless in her eyes, though very much loved for it - she herself respected authority. That is, if the authority deserved to be respected. Sometimes it crosses her mind, the fact that she, of all people, is technically a vigilante, and she can only laugh. A bitter, somewhat frightened laugh, but with hints of amusement all the same. There are still people she can look to for the approval she craves in the Order – she respects Moody, Shacklebolt, Dumbledore. And she believes in them, in the path they’re setting out for all of them, but … it gets harder and harder every day.

Perhaps that’s why the Task Force means so much to her. It’s palpable success, it’s a way to actually help people, to see the results before them. Especially the Muggle-borns – the people who, like herself, are caught up in something that threatens to overwhelm them, who deserve to have someone stand up for them and affirm their (her) right to be in this world. Fighting (and often losing) endless battles with the Death Eaters, missions that seem to go nowhere, do nothing, even if there is supposedly some greater scheme – Lily feels herself breaking the longer it goes on, the less light there seems to be at the end of this long drawn out struggle. She knew it wasn’t going to be over in a year – but knowing that, and living it, are two very different things.

This wasn’t supposed to be her life. Failed job. Failed war. And now more than ever, failed relationships. This was never supposed to be Lily, who everyone thinks of as a bright spark, as hope and kindness personified. It’s hard to let go of, that image, the perfect Lily Evans, something she clung to when she was reminded of her sister’s hate, of half the wizarding world’s hate. But she isn’t a bright spark, or at least, she doesn’t feel that way. Not anymore.

SURVIVAL:

To be honest, Lily often feels her survival is a matter of her inconsequentiality. At Hogwarts, things seemed different. She was a bold symbol, the Muggle-born Head Girl, bright and clever and beloved. Practically a spit in the face to anyone who thought Muggle-borns were inferior – and there were plenty of students who showed her their displeasure. Lily faced them all proudly, though James’ support was something she depended upon, taking strength from the knowledge that he had her back, no matter who else despised her. She felt like she was making a difference. Now, even as an Order member – what’s she really doing for the war? That importance she used to have, it’s faded away now. She’s not especially successful, she’s not especially threatening or powerful … that doesn’t mean Lily isn’t careful, of course. Her home with James is well-protected and Lily takes Alastor Moody’s warnings very seriously. Constant vigilance indeed. But at the end of the day, there are times Lily thinks … she simply doesn’t matter. Not outside of being James Potter’s mudblood girlfriend, at any rate.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Lily loves James, but she knows things are strained between them. Lily’s relationships are deeply characterised by respect – she is someone who cannot be happy with someone, even if she loves them, unless she can respect them. That hasn’t changed with James, she still admires him almost more than anyone else, for his strength and dedication, his idealistic nature. Most days, Lily thinks it’s her who is the problem. Nothing she does lately seems to be working out and this is no different. She knows he’s starting to catch on to her unhappiness and she wants to reach out, to tell him she hasn’t stopped caring for him, but something stops her. Maybe it’s just that sense of hopelessness, of burning out, the fear that she isn’t the person she once was anymore. How could he understand that – he’s never been anything but himself, never had to be afraid to be himself, never failed, and right now, he’s in the thick of it, the inner circle – of course he is. Everything has always come easy to James, born to success and brilliant in his own right. It seems as if their paths after school are inverse, he with all the accomplishments (so high up in the Order, so trusted) and she with none. Even if he did fail, he wouldn’t be like her. The Muggle-born out of place, the Muggle-born who has failed to make her place in the Wizarding world (all those snide voices at the back of her mind – of course she was going to fail. Don’t they always? They don’t belong). She can’t talk to him about any of this. It’s easier to dedicate herself to the Task Force instead – but James doesn’t seem to understand that either.

Friendships have become more difficult than ever. It’s still easy to put her life into anyone in the Order’s hands. She trusts them with that. But Lily feels more isolated than ever. Hardly anyone seems to remember what they’re fighting for – to save people. To save lives. It’s all become about who is right and who is wrong (Lily forgetting that she too thinks of herself as right and the others as wrong). The people she would trust with her life feel less like friends the further they go into this war together. And yet Lily cannot stop reaching out, even to the friends who seem to greet her with distaste these days, disliking her priorities. Lily will always believe that friendship is important, that tenderness is important. It can’t be true that they are only soldiers these days, and nothing else.

With Severus coming to the Order, Lily will remain deeply conflicted. For so many years, a sign like this, that he was definitively, absolutely choosing her, siding with her, would have meant everything. But as so often with getting the thing you want most, by the time you get it, you can barely recognise it. Lily may well be more suspicious than anyone else, if only because she has been through this before. The desperation to trust him meeting with her deep suspicion that this is just another lie, that she never really knew him at all.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

Lily/James, Lily/Chemistry (I very much love writing Lily/James but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to exploring other things or exploring Lily/James in an untypical form. Chemistry is important, and one thing I find very interesting in this rp is the conflict and break down of relationships. On the other side, platonic relationships are very important to me, especially since we know so little of the friendships Lily had, I find them fascinating to develop and deconstruct.)

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I would say Lily’s strongest bias is essentially tunnel vision. She has always tended to believe she knows right and wrong – and that her understanding of right and wrong is what is right and wrong. When it comes to things like the war, she utterly condemns those who choose to fight for the other side – and even, to an extent, those who remain neutral. While she tries to be accepting of it, that not everyone can fight, that people are torn by conflicting loyalties, that it may not be life or death for everyone, she can’t truly understand or respect how anyone could make that choice. Furthermore, she believes what she prioritises is most important. The more she turns to the Task Force, the less she will be able to understand how the others in the Order can so easily dismiss it.

Another bias is against dark magic, which she believes is wrong without exception and looks down on those who use it. This also extends to dark creatures – notably excluding werewolves, due to her long friendship with Remus Lupin (she also tends to be quite biased in favour of those she loves), but creatures such as Dementors, hags, vampires, giants, she tends to regard with fear and disgust. Her boggart would be a Lethifold - another Dark creature, highly aggressive and tending to attack people at night, as they sleep. It symbolises her fear of being defenceless and unable to act to protect those she loves, as well as her deep fear of Dark magic.

For privileges, obviously she lacks privilege in the wizarding world as a Muggle-born and is notably a target of the current war. I would say that lack of privilege is certainly something that spurs her on to protect others. She certainly resents the way she is treated by others and devalued simply for her birth. It’s something that colours her relationship with James – it’s not his fault, but she knows others look down on them being together. They might both well be better off if they weren’t together, in fact, being together makes them a target. As a witch of two worlds, Lily would also be aware of the fact that her privilege is very different in the Muggle world, being white. It’s interesting that in her relationship with James, the privilege would be reversed in the Muggle world. And in fact, Vernon and Petunia’s treatment of James suggests this very personally for Lily, and is something that angers her, yet at the same time, she does want to regain a good relationship with her sister.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

There are a lot of aspects I find appealing – I like the way this rp uses multiple player threads so paras involve more than just two characters. It’s something I haven’t seen elsewhere and I find compelling for exploring the whole tapestry of the Order and how the organisation interacts with each other. The focus on the Order also appeals to me – I’m typically far more interested in ‘the good guys’ and especially in exploring the flaws and weaknesses of ‘the good guys’. Lily for one is presented as fairly saintlike in canon and it’s so interesting to deconstruct that image and find out about the real person she was, flaws, warts and all.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): N/A for the moment

ANYTHING ELSE? Nothing, thanks for considering me!

#homenumaccepted #harry potter rp #harry potter roleplay #marauders era rp #marauders rp

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worldly-diversity · 4 years

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@vanities-redemption:

“…It’s not often I get stuck on a World with a bunch of strange looking people…” The raven scratched the back of his head as he looked down at the cup of…hot chocolate? The smell of chocolate was flooding his senses, so it had to be that. Vanitas picked up the steaming mug of cocoa and took a drink. His eyes widened and Vanitas grinned. “…It’s a good blend.”

Strange? Well that wasn't very nice, though he's certainly been called worse. Alphinaud simply hummed as he served himself a cup and sat down with the stranger at the Rising Stones. Though it was rare they allowed people who weren't a part of the Scions to visit the back of the establishment, exceptions had to be made.

"Thank you."

A small smile of fondness broke the surface of his usually level expression as he took a sip, enjoying the warmth and nostalgia that accompanied the drink as it slid down his throat. A warmth that was quite welcome, considering the northerly temperatures of Mor Dhona.

Now, to address the situation at hand... It was a good thing his dearest sister Alisae wasn't present, or she'd have likely grown upset at the stranger's rudeness. "Ah, my apologies, I do believe I have failed to introduce myself. I am Alphinaud Leveileur, scholar and member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn."

He would wait patiently for the stranger to introduce himself before continuing, his earlier comments affirming the rumours he'd heard when one of their members had come bearing the report of a stranger arriving through a portal of darkness eerily similar to the methods of transportation employed by the Ascians. Nevertheless he seemed friendly, at least on the surface. The sense of disdain and danger that generally accompanied any Ascian was noticeably absent, after all.

"You mean to imply that this is your first visit to Eorza then?" He inquired calmly, slender fingers warming against the sides of his cup. Coming from the warmer climate of Sharlayan in Dravania rather than the colder climate of Ishgard, as were many of his brethren.

"I must needs admit we are not frequently graced with the presence of outsiders, and the few we've met were unfortunately not very predisposed towards friendliness. Please excuse my curiosity, but from whence do you gale then, if I might ask?"

#vanitiesredemption #universe • final fantasy #interactions • alphinaud #threads #i wanna write my ffxiv characters more ahhh #alphinaud you've spent too much time arund urianger and it SHOWS XD #tone down the archaic talk buddy xD #'must needs' is the one thing that will forever rub me he wrong way in FFXIV xD

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lemonjoonah · 5 years

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Under Fire - Pt 8

Masterlist | <Previous | Next >

Title: Under Fire Word Count: 3K+ Rating: M Genre: Gang AU, Drama Warnings: Just drinking and swearing in this chapter. Pairings: Hyung Line x Reader (Primarily Namjoon x Reader), very slight OT7 x Reader. Pairings (in this chapter): Suga x Reader, Namjoon x Reader

Summary: As a child you lived among the most wealthy and powerful, after the death of your mother you were shipped off to stay with her sister. Even after finishing your education you continue to live apart from the elite, but a visit home creates an unexpected disaster. You are suddenly roped into a darker world, and who better to be your guide than the infamous gang known as BTS.

A/N: A short chapter, it almost feels like it’s an intermission between the heavy plot chapters. At this point we start to get back into other POV’s, so keep that in mind while reading.

Chapter 8 - A Fitting Guise

POV (Y/N)

“You’re taking me along?” Your fork stops halfway to your mouth, as your attention is drawn away from the meal in front of you.

J-Hope nods, “V tends to get hyper focused while shopping for electronics. While he is at it we can help you get whatever clothes or supplies you might need.”

“So you’re not forced to wear underwear J-Hope picked up for you.” Jimin adds between bites of food.

“Deal,” you laugh.

J-Hope looks slightly offended.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with green,” you try to reassure his kindness.

“I knew it! You’re such a pervert Hope!” Shouts Jimin.

They both earn a slap at the back of the head from Suga, who had walked in to collect the plates. “It’s to early for your antics.”

“Don’t act like you’re not bothered too.” Jimin whines.

Suga growls in response causing Jimin to hold his tongue and step back from the table.

You laugh at how quickly the subject was dropped. “Suga you have to teach me that trick.”

“It comes from years of military intimidation, but you’re resourceful I’m sure you will find your own method to shut them up.”

The boys scowl at Suga. They whisper to each other, malicious intent written on their faces. In a surprise attack they both leap forward on to his back. With their arms around his neck they try to force him to tap out. Suga struggles with a shout but doesn’t give in.

Namjoon walks in on the scuffle, with Jin alongside him. “That’s enough.”

Suga’s words might have scared them for a moment earlier, but it’s Namjoon’s orders that hold the true power. The three of them separate in an instant.

Namjoon and you lock eyes and then quickly look away. You had woken up in a compromising position that both of you seemed too embarrassed to admit, his hand up your shirt while your own could be found between his thighs. You try your best not to look too awkward, focusing instead on the day ahead. “What do the rest of you have planned for today?”

“Jin, Suga, and myself are going try to make contact with VIXX. JK is staying at his desk until he finishes the security program.”

That explains JK absence, you assume this is a form of punishment for what happened last night.

While the others disperse, Jimin is quick to latch on to your wrist and start pulling you out the door. Namjoon breaks his grip, ordering him to wait outside for you with everyone else. Jimin leaves in a huff.

“Be careful today okay?”

“Namjoon I’m not the one meeting with a rival gang.”

“I know, but there were a few to many surprises yesterday. Just, stay close to them...” He reaches into his pocket, approaching the next subject with an air of hesitation, “I’m sorry we haven’t made one for you yet, but I would like if you could take this with you.” He holds out your father's watch. “I know that it’s a lot to ask but it will help me focus more on the task at hand if I know that you are wearing this.”

Your are reluctant to reach out for it. It had saved your life before, but it’s also the watch that your father wore as he passed. The image of him tied to his chair comes to the forefront of your mind as you stare at the watch face. “If it’ll put your mind at ease I’ll take it.” He fumbles while placing the band on your wrist. The strap is far too large, but it’s the weight of the timepiece that you find burdensome.

Namjoon pulls you close and lands an unexpected kiss on your forehead. He lets out a sigh and a muttered thank you before pushing you out the door. Right into the path of J-Hope, who throws his arm around you. “Come one everyone else is in the car. RM Jimin will be on standby if you need him.” Namjoon nods smiling at you one last time before you get into the backseat beside V.

A wide grin is set upon V’s face. Looking excited for the day ahead, he double checks a list he has up on his phone.

“Any preference V?” Jimin inquires jumping into the driver seat.

“Yeah, head to Sindorim. I’ve been in touch with some of my old suppliers. I should be able to meet up with you easily from there once I am done.”

“I don’t think that I will take that long.” You aren’t a fan of shopping, often find excuses to rush through the process.

“Ha! You’ve never been shopping with us before. Besides I need to get my say in too, so be sure to take your time.”

J-Hope wears a concerned look on his face. “V these suppliers, are they from the same vendor that you used before you joined us?”

“Yep, the best in the business.”

“The same people that sold information that allowed you to get caught?!” Hope fumes.

“Me getting arrested at the museum wasn’t their fault, and I got off didn’t I?”

“You know I’m not talking about the museum job...”

You had wondered about V’s past since he took you to the bank. You can’t help but ask your own questions, “Who else caught you, what was the other job?”

V smiles sheepishly before answering, “Your father.”

You do not expect that, the blatant surprise and confusion is written on your face as V continues to defend himself.

“If anything that whole operation was a trap. He was looking to employ someone with my skill set, and knew my résumé word for word. Purchasing the most tempting bait and paying off my suppliers was all it took to ensnare me. I had no idea he would be waiting for me the second I laid my hands on the frame.” He chuckles as if remembering a fond memory.

“Which leaves those dealers open to corruption,” Hope reiterates.

“It was Park who bought them off, they couldn’t say no when he owns the whole block. He even proved to them he didn’t want to get me arrested.”

“I’m still not sure I like the idea.”

“Even if it was about the money, they know that a descendant of Park could easily out bid anyone looking for information.” V concludes. He’s right of course, you would pay any amount to keep sensitive data out of the hand of others.

...

After dropping V off at the market Jimin and Hope drag you to the nearest clothing store. You go in a dressing room with only a handful of items but the boys keep hanging more and more over the top of your door. At several points during your trip, you feel like you have the whole store inventory in your room with you.

Jimin’s style choices seem very feminine, almost too cute for you. Whereas J-Hope is more casual handing you jeans and sweaters. Your style definitely aligns with Hope’s more you can see why they sent him out to get you clothes in the first place. Although you do end up getting a few of Jimin’s suggestions too, thinking his heart might break if you didn’t. There’s a trip to a store with more business attire as well as a beauty store, and a lingerie store which they gratefully waited outside of.

When you come back V is waiting among them empty handed. “They are going to deliver all of the stuff tonight to a drop off point near the townhouse. What do you guys have left to get?”

“I think that we’re pretty much finished.” You look to all the bags in your hands unable to think of anything else you need.

J-Hope shake his head, “Still have to get her something for evening events.”

“Excellent you’ve saved the best for last.”

“To Gucci?” Asks Jimin with a playful smile

The excitement is palpable as they pull you into the last store. V tows you along with him. As employee follows along behind taking the dresses he grabs from the rack. He then proceeds to the men’s section piecing a suit together while holding several tie options to the dresses he’s picked out. J-Hope was eager to add to the dress pile after holding each one of them up to you. Jimin is debating his own shirt choice asking an assistant to help him with his decision. You find it odd to have people faun over what you wear, but if your standing is important, your appearance would need to match.

You are pushed into a fitting room along with an employee. She makes no mention of the bandage in your shoulder, but takes care in helping you in and out of the ornate dresses.

You step out in the first dress a hugging black velvet, floor length gown. V is also in his own choice to compliment your outfit. J-Hope holds up his phone, you can only assume he’s taking pictures.

“Is that really necessary?”

“What? Jin messaged asking for pictures.”

“I’m sure that they will be saved to your camera roll too.” Jimin teases.

J-Hope has no defense, choosing instead to ignore Jimin.

V puts an arm around you posing for the next photo holding two fingers in the shape of a V right below his eye.

The dress up game plays for a while, each of them taking a turn for a photo op. You did not expect them to have such strong opinions on fashion as they do. V is without a doubt the most blunt, immediately pushing you back into the dressing room when you came out in something not to his taste. By the end you are absolutely exhausted. Spending more on dresses than you did for 5 years of rent at your old apartment. You feel a surge of guilt as you hand over your card, the past you would have condemned this whole trip.

J-Hope stops beside you as the the employees hang everything in garment bags, “Wait I didn’t see you try on these.” He points at a few gowns being packed away.

“Nope, they’re my secret weapon.” You laugh, “they looked so good i didn’t even need to question them.”

“The element of surprise is an effective weapon, I hope you don’t intend to use them against us.” He quips back.

“That depends if I need to, never hurts to have ammo on hand.”

He mocks a pained look, grabbing his heart and taking a step back. His actions placing a smirk on your lips. He then picks up your purchases and calls out the rest of them. “How about we take this one out to eat guys, the delivery is still going to be a while.” He turns back to you, “What do you feel like?”

The mention of food helps to push your tiredness aside, allowing you to focus on your empty stomach. “Something low key would be great. Just a hole in the wall where I can stuff my face.”

V had on his wide smile, “J.J.’s?”

...

It’s a small bbq joint, nothing fancy but the second you step in the restaurant you are hit with mouth watering smells from the kitchen. The owner greets them all with a sense of familiarity.

As you seat yourselves J-Hope is absorbed with his phone again taking a picture of the grill. “I’m sending an update to Jin.”

“Response in 5...4...3..” V counts down.

J-Hope’s phone vibrates. “Too slow V never underestimate Jin’s food radar.” Jimin states matter of factly.

The food comes out quickly to your delight. “They are on their way. I guess we better order more. Think you’ll be able to keep up Fire?” Hope askes as he orders more soju and beef.

“Don’t worry about that.” You answer placing the beef on the grill.

Your are pouring each other more drinks when Jin, Namjoon, Suga and JK roll in. Namjoon speaks to the owner for a few minutes before sitting down. Despite being 20 years Namjoon’s senior he paid him the highest respect, more than one typically would for a customer. They laugh together and part, Namjoon pulls a seat up next to you. You can’t help but smile at him after the entertaining day you had... and the few shots of soju.

“Any luck today?” You ask not wanting to be specific in a public location.

“Yes and no, but that’s business for another time. Right now I could really use a drink.”

His eyes brighten as you pour him one.

“Sounds good we could all use some time to unwind.”

You make a move to pour Jin’s drink but Namjoon grabs the bottle and pours it himself.

Jin doesn’t notice the switch. While his eyes dart through pictures his phone, he directs his voice to J-Hope in anger. “How could you let her wear something as revealing as these dresses. What do you think she is an idol?”

“Well for our goal to work she kind of needs to be. Younger public figures aren’t far from idols in the eyes of the people.”

Jin can not disagree, only responding with a hushed swear as he continues to scroll through pictures J-Hope sent him.

You are making another lettuce wrap as Jimin chimes in. “I don’t think that idols eat this much.” There is silence all around as he taunts you, they all look to him as if he has just spoken his last words. You stuff the wrap into his open mouth before anyone else can respond.

“Oh, that wasn’t for me. I just wanted to see if I could fill those chubby cheeks of yours.” He slowly begins to chew to the chorus of howls around him. Suga claps you on the back unable to stop laughing. You grab another piece of lettuce and start to fill it, no one commenting on your appetite.

The shots of soju continue. For every drink you serve Namjoon his smile grows, but he still won’t let you pour for anyone else. Suga is the first one to realize what was going on, or at least to call him out on his shit. “Yah! She’s not here to serve you RM!��

Namjoon concedes not giving a reason for his behaviour but eyes your hand darkly as you pour a drink for Suga.

Once the food is consumed the only thing that keeps your hands busy is the alcohol. The stories begin to flow as quickly as the liquor. Jin’s reenactments are especially dramatic he has everyone at the table keeling over with laughter. Stories of Namjoon’s clumsiness or JK’s shyness seem to win outright on response.

You can hardly find breath as he tells of an operation where a target that was supposed to be falling for Jimin liked JK instead. Leading Jimin to talk JK through an entire date over an earpiece to get the information they needed. Or the time RM broke an expensive vase while attending a Gala with your father.

Jin manages to squeeze in several strikes depicting how much of a rebellious child you were growing up. Narrating the time you cut off all your hair, and pretended to be a boy so you could help your father with his work. Jin falters as he tells the end of that story, realizing you had gotten your wish, but at what cost?

“I bet she looked really cute with short hair.” Hope muses bringing back the lightness to the conversation.

“Nah, she looked too much like her father.” Jin laughs with everyone joining in.

POV Suga

Those who arrived before us are definitely feeling the effects of the soju.

Hope is passed out against V who is singing drinking songs along with Jimin. I watch as you struggle to keep your eyes open. RM also noticing this pulls you closer to him your head now on his shoulder.

I finish off the last few sips of my drink. “We should probably get these drunkards to bed.”

None of us are in any shape to drive but the apartment was only a few blocks away. RM makes a move to carry you.

“Hold on a minute God of Destruction. Who has the steadier hand?” Namjoon tilts his head and narrows his eyes not understanding my question. I rephrase myself sparing him no dignity.

“You should carry someone who is less likely to give a shit when you drop them you klutz.” I point over to V and Hope. Jin lets out his squeaky laugh as JK holds a smile. Surprisingly RM takes it all in stride snapping his fingers and pointing in agreement. He helps place you on to my back, your face nestles into my hair. JK hoists up Hope, RM and Jin supporting the flailing V and Jimin respectively.

Looks like I got the easiest of the bunch. JK and I lead the group back. RM and Jin are struggling to hold on to the others and start debating whether or not to abandon them in the bushes on the side of the road. I feel a slight movement from you on my back.

“Mmm...Why are we moving?”

“I’m taking us home, go back to sleep.”

“Suga,” you giggle, “You’re so nice.” You bury your face further into the crook of my neck. “Why do you always pretend to be a such scary guy?”

“Hey, I am scary!” I shout back. I chide myself for not think of a better rebuttal.

You aren't phased in the slightest, instead you tap the tip of my nose with your finger. “Ha! No you’re not you just pretend to be... why though that’s the question...”

“Someone has to be.” I answer back surprised at my honestly.

“Suga, you don’t have to be scary to keep those you care about safe.”

I pause on the sidewalk stunned. Fortunately JK has gained a bit of ground, leaving us alone between the two groups, so no one could have heard what you said.

“No, but it helps.” I whisper. How could you read me so well. I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised after you had call out RM’s plan at the shooting range. Hearing you call out my pretense though is baffling, I don’t wish for anyone else to see past it. For some reason it doesn’t bother me that you could. But now I’m plagued by the idea that maybe I want you to see past the guise.

You are silent again just as we reach the door. I can feel your deep breathing on my ear. We take the stairs slowly as you hold on tighter.

I sit you on your bed, but you continue to cling. “Come on Hellfire time for bed.” Exhausted myself, I lay down on my side figuring you would loosen your grip eventually. In the meantime I continue our conversation, for some reason telling you things I had never told anyone, not knowing if you are actually listening.

“Your father needed someone intimidating on the team. Someone who could take care of a threat in the blink of an eye and then disappear. I became that ghost. To keep them safe... to keep you safe I have to be terrifying.”

“My friendly ghost,” You giggle lightly.

“Aishh, I knew you were awake. Let go and let me go to bed.”

“Nope you’re so warm, why would I let my blanket go when I am trying to fall asleep?”

“So now I’m you blanket?”

“If I recall you used me as a pillow the other night.” You cuddle in closer, “Who knew you were so soft?”

I scoff at the double meaning, but give in to your demands “Fine, but not one word of this leaves the room.”

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