#and gave me her blessing to go pitch a fit in the ER if my symptoms get any worse before my appointment with the new surgeon

[dreamlogic]

[xsugarysweetsx]

Hi so I know you already did a Royal au for Oikawa, but insted of him being a prince how about a knight or a stable boy? And the reader as a lady-in-waiting or kitchen maid 👉👈 You can ignore this if it doesn't make sense

Thank you 💕

A/N: I don’t mind anon! I made Oikawa less....self absorbed here.

Please enjoy~🍰

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

“You should talk to him” y/b/f urged you as you watch your crush from afar. It was none other than Oikawa. One of the top knights of the kingdom, yet you were a simple servant who cooked and cleaned for the royals.

“You know he would never notice me...“ you said defeated. Even though he was a knight he was fair and just to everyone, no matter their status. That’s what drew you to him. As much as your heart yearned for him, he wouldn’t be yours.

“Come on would I ever lie or mislead you?” your friend asked 

“N-no-”

“Exactly! Besides I have seen him taking a few glances your way” she bounced her eyebrows “speak of the devil, there he comes“ she whisper yelled as said knight started to come into view. You were pretty sure he could see the bright blush on your cheeks. Both from him coming and because you felt a bit embarrassed to be in rags.

“Hello ladies, how are you this afternoon?“

“Just as fine as we can“ y/b/f answers 

“That’s good, lady Y/N, may I speak with you for a moment?“ he asked you causing your brain to short circuit 

“S-sure“ he motioned to the side where there was more privacy “What did you want to speak about?“

“Well, I have no intentions to lie nor deceive you Y/N, I’ve taken a fancy to you and I’d like to treat you to a day.“ he said with a smile

“A..day?“

“I’ve asked my captain to have the day free so I could take you into town“ he smiles softly at you.

“W-why?” You ask a bit confused. A day with him? He couldn't possibly mean it

“Why? Because I l see how hard you work day and night, it’s only right to treat a lovely lady to a lovely day. So, may I have the honor?” he gave a smirk with a quick wink.

Damn that charm

“O-Okay-“ he cut you off in excitement

“Perfect! Our day starts tomorrow at noon!” for some reason he had ran away from you almost like a child. Nonetheless, you were a bit confused 

“Oh Y/N!“ Y/B/F came and almost tackled you in a hug “What did he say? Did he ask you to marry him?”

“What? No, he just wants to treat me to a day is all“ you said regaining your balance 

“Awwwh, my Y/N is getting her prince charming after all“ she then noticed how you weren’t exactly thrilled “Hey...aren’t you happy?“

“What if it’s a joke? I’m not exactly as pretty as noble girls, or have their beautiful clothes, what if he just wants a laugh out of me“

“No, don’t think that! Any man walking this earth would be blessed to even hold your hand. You are beautiful, kind, and warm, you don’t need silly dresses to impress some man. If anything, I’ll poison his dinner“ she said trying to make you smile. Which did work “Come on we have to get you ready for tomorrow“

...

The next day Y/B/F had lent you a beautiful pink dress. It wasn’t too flashy, nor heavy, it was delicate yet pretty and it fit like a glove. She helped with your hair and gave your lips and cheeks some color. Just as he said he was waiting for you near the stables to take you into town. 

“You look lovely this afternoon my lady” he said taking your hand and laying a quick kiss to your knuckles

“Th-thank you”

“So shall we be off?” he said extending his elbow for you to take. Today you wanted to play it cool, to not freak out, and to just enjoy your day off. As you walk out of the castle you had gotten some looks from girls. Some were surprised, other of envy, and other of joy for you. 

Walking into town you both had small talk. How things have been, your childhood, how you came to work at the castle

“Look this is our first stop“ he said pointing to a small store with sweet attracting aromas. He opens the door and lets you in first into the small bakery. It was very humble and cozy inside the bakery, but the smells were so comforting and appealing. 

“Oh Oikawa it’s been quite some time since you’ve come here, and you’ve brought a beautiful young lady“ an older voice came into view “What can I do for you today?“

“Hello uncle, I took today to take Y/N here around town“ he said laying a hand to your shoulder “Thought we would stop by for a treat first.“

“Well, hello Y/N, pick anything you like free of charge“ he offered with a warm smile 

“Oh, no you’re too kind I don’t mind spending-“

“Ah ah, I am treating you today Y/N, which means you will not be spending your best silver“ he winked taking your hand in his and walking over to the display to pick a sweet. You both pick a slice of cake with pink frosting and fresh fruits. His uncle truly had hands for desserts. 

You both thank him for the wonderful cake and make your way out. As you walk down the town street as it began to get busy. Buzzing with people of all kinds, farmers, black smiths, merchants, everyone. You kingdom was a busy one. But the was still one question you had

“I- um I do have a question Oikawa...“ you clear the air

“Go ahead” he pulling you into his side so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd.

“Why me of all girls?” You ask a bit confused. Confused because there were so many girls in the kingdom even princesses who would she loved to get his attention so, why you?

“Well,” he started as he took you down a street where the crowd cleared up more “you caught my attention. You weren’t exactly drawn or impressed whenever I showed off and I think I really liked that” he admits

“Really?” You ask

“That’s right. I’m honestly so used to attention that when I saw you look away as if I were another person you gave me a feeling. A feeling like I wanted to know you better”

“Well....I’m glad to be the one who caught your eye then“ you gave his arm a slight squeeze. 

Walking up to a pub and dinner he walks in to be greeted by the men and women of the place. He leads you to what seemed like the only peaceful place in the bar. Honestly, this didn’t seem anywhere close to what he may like, you found it a bit funny. He pulls out the seat for you and pushes you in 

“I’ll get us some drinks and food alright?“ he told you before taking off to the waitress there. In the meantime you took a look around the place, men were arm wrestling, betting, or just being rowdy. A figure stood at your table, looking up you thought it was Oikawa but you were mistaken. 

“Hey there prrretty lady, why don’t we have er...some fun” the man wrecked of booze and seemed to not have showered in over a week. You looked over the bar to see if you spotted Oikawa but had your arm caught by the man “Come onn *hic* I’ll buy you something to drink“

“Please leave me alone, I’m here with my...knight and he’ll be here any moment“ you tried not to show any panic but he was reluctant 

“I don’t see him-“

“Turn around.“ a strong voice called out the man turned around to face him still with a hold on your arm “Let her go“

“Er what? *hic*“ he threatened standing to him, even though his drunkenness made him slump over a bit 

“Or I’ll throw you out of the pub”  

“You brat-“ he tried swinging but missed as Oikawa moved to the side swiftly putting in almost no effort. The man takes another swing which Oikawa caught his arm and twisted it behind his back and turned him to you 

“Now if you would apologize to my lady here“ he asked adding in an extra twist making a high pitched 

“Sorry!“ come out of the drunk after his forced apology he was then pushed out of the pub earning the young night a crowd full of cheers. Coming to sit with you he takes your hand 

“Are you alright?“

“Y-yes thank you for the, help“ you smile at him

“And was I hearing things or did you call me your knight?“ he beamed causing you to blush 

“W-well I mean he was bothering me a-and I um-“

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t mind being your knight if it’s what want“

Wait was he courting you? What do you do? What do you say?

“But there are so many-“

“I’ll stop you there, you’re a beautiful woman inside and out. No other woman, princess or noble can match the wonder that you are. And I would lay my life for you“

You hadn’t ever been courted this way. His proclamation of love was so deep and emotional you honestly did know what to do or say. He then leaned over and kissed your cheek  “You’re cute when you get shy”

The rest of he afternoon was spent with food and drinks until sundown, by then you had to head back. It was clear to say you felt very protected even in the streets at night. He kept you close to him even up to your quarters. Once at your door you bid each other good night 

“I had a lot of fun today“ you say to him 

“I did too...so does that mean-“ you stop him in his tracks crashing your lips on his as he melts into your lips. The cold hallway becoming warm and fuzzy from the kiss you shared. He pulled away almost breathless

“Wow....I um...goodnight“ you chuckle as he seemed almost kiss drunk

“Goodnight...“ you say shyly closing the door softly. As Oikawa walked away he heard your roommate practically scream and he just giggled

“She’s going to be my wife” 

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

I hope this was okay!❤️

[dweetwise]

ok lowkey. that spirit thing was mweh😘 how strange yet oddly interesting. if you dont mind doing something similar... could you ... maybe write something where Zarina befriends the Nurse? like the nurse is getting bullied by all the other survivors and Zarina is just like 'bruh why?'. this happened once in a match and i cant get it outta my head😤🤡 love LOVE your work. keep it up

[thanks anon ily 😳😳😳 hope this is ok! there’s a special place in my heart for baby nurses, they are so pure <3]

zarina never had to deal with op old nurse bless her

Zarina befriends the Nurse: ficlet

Hearing yet another wail from the Nurse echoing across the map, Zarina looks up from her generator into the misty grounds of the asylum. The match had surely been going on for nearly ten minutes already, and the teleporting killer had yet to down any of the survivors.

Finishing up the repairs on her generator, Zarina starts navigating towards the sound of the screeches. On her way, she doesn’t spot a single one of her teammates on any of the generators, and frowns in irritation that the killer had apparently decided to farm with the others without anyone deeming it necessary to inform her.

“Forgot about the new chick again, huh?” she mutters to herself, already having had some trouble fitting in with the rowdy group of survivors and their already established dynamic.

Zarina finally reaches what seems to be the center for the commotion, arriving at the shack where Feng, Nea and David are running around in circles with the killer teleporting through the structure, landing a hit on David who the girls then immediately begin patching up right in front of the killer’s face. Zarina huffs out an annoyed breath that her assumptions were correct, turning away from the spectacle and fully intending to go elsewhere and refuse to participate in the others’ dumb little game, when...

“Oi, over ‘ere ya cunt!” David taunts, causing Zarina to clench her fists and whip around, ready to give the asshole Brit a piece of her mind for insulting her--

Only to see the still injured David pointing his flashlight in the Nurse’s face, prolonging the killer’s already painful looking fatigue state. Zarina swallows her misdirected anger and takes a more thorough look at the events unfolding at the shack.

She sees Feng Min get right up in the killer’s face, doing her stupid butt dance,  while Nea chain blinds the killer with her own flashlight, rendering her useless for a few more seconds. The killer takes a wild swing in Nea’s direction, but the street artist sidesteps.

“Ooh, big swing!” Nea mocks, clicky-clicking her flashlight and moonwalking around the Nurse while the killer recovers from her miss. 

“Baby killer, baby killer!” Feng’s high-pitched laugh echoes through the area as the gamer feigns vaulting the shack window, causing the Nurse’s bonesaw to uselessly hit the wood with a dull ‘thunk’.

“Couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with that aim--” David taunts from the shack entrance, making the Nurse quickly blink to him. David dashes through the pallet, avoiding the hit and proceeds to throw down the piece of wood on the killer, flashlight at the ready and already pointing at the Nurse. “Baited ya, bitch!”

“She’s so boosted!” Nea laughs, moving into position to reset the pallet in the blinded killer’s face while Feng injects a healing syringe into David’s shoulder. When the Nurse finally recovers from the combination of the fatigue, stun and blinds, only to have the now upright pallet be slammed right back in her face, Zarina decides enough is enough.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Zarina demands, approaching the scene. “Hey Zarina! Look at this baby killer!” Feng says, obnoxiously spam-pointing at the stunned Nurse. “Shouldn’t you be doing gens?” “Don’t get yer knickers in a twist, we’re just horsin’ around,” David grunts, rolling his shoulder from the sting of the syringe needle. “But why, though?” Zarina asks, shooting a glare in Nea’s direction where the Swede is once again blinding the killer with her flashlight. “Haven’t you done enough?”  “No offense newbie, but maybe you should go find a gen and leave this to us, yeah?” Nea says, a cocky smirk on her lips.

That moment, the Nurse manages to get control over her movements and executes a precise teleport to an injured David, only to have the syringe take effect a split second before the hit and fully heal his wounds, merely causing him to get injured again. Zarina thinks she hears the Nurse groaning in defeat, and she doesn’t blame her. With Nea sprinting right back up to the killer, flashlight in hand, and Feng running after David ready to tank a hit, the Nurse readies another blink and, to everyone’s surprise, teleports away in the direction of the main building.

“LMAO she gave up!” Feng laughs, the sound grating on Zarina’s nerves, as she begins patching up David. “Let’s go after her!” Nea suggests. “NO!” Zarina yells, absolutely done with her fellow survivors’ bullshit against the clearly struggling killer. “You’ve already won! Don’t you have any empathy?” she scolds the trio. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is the taaxic flashlight against your wittle journalist’s ethics?” Nea mocks, fake pouting. “We’ve put of with ‘er shite for years, least she can do is take a couple pallets in tha face,” David grumbles. “Yeah you try versing a five blink Nurse with a mori and tell us how fair and balanced that is,” Feng says, hands on her hips. “Whatever, that’s your problem,” Zarina says, not about to entertain the trio about whatever grudges they seem to be holding. “Just do the fucking gens and leave.”

With that, Zarina makes her way to the main building, thankful that the others seem to stay behind, at least for now. She feels compelled to apologize to the killer on her so-called friends’ behalf, once again trusting her strong moral compass to guide her to the right decisions. Before long she finds the Nurse in one of the rooms on the second floor of the asylum, sitting on a windowsill with an old photo frame in her hands.

“Umm... miss killer? Excuse me?” Zarina makes her presence known, peering in through the door frame. “You didn’t have to intervene, girl,” the Nurse says with unexpected softness and clarity in her voice. She looks almost serene, ominous heartbeat gone, sitting primly in front of the window and torn dress flowing gently with a breeze from the derelict wall.

“I know, it’s... I couldn’t just watch. I’m sorry about them, they’re--” “It’s fine. Truly. I understand,” she says, looking down at the photo again. “I haven’t exactly shown them mercy in the past, I would not expect them to act different.” “Are you... okay?” Zarina asks, cautiously approaching. The Nurse sighs. “This place, it... brings back memories I’d rather forget. I feel my focus slipping and my head is just not in it today.” “The others said you used to be more powerful--or p-perhaps just more ruthless, before...?” “I suppose that’s true,” the Nurse chuckles. “There was a time where I lost myself completely, the entity filling my mind with hatred. Now... I’m weaker, more often a disappointment to it, but... perhaps it’s for the best.” “Umm... not to point out the obvious, but--don’t you think it might help to take the bag off of your head so you could see better?” “You’d offer advice to me, an enemy? A rather peculiar survivor, you are,” the Nurse says, fondness in her voice. “As for the matter, I am able to see just fine, courtesy of the entity. Hiding my face is a choice, one of the few I still have. I--” her voice cracks. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.” “What a curious one you are. Never give up that fire,” she says. “As for covering my head... he always loved seeing me smile,” she says, fondly stroking a finger over the picture, before handing the frame to Zarina, taking her completely off guard as she fumbles to grab the item.

In the frame is a picture of a happy couple on their wedding day, both smiling brightly and embracing each other. The man looks like a proper old-time gentleman, complete with a top hat and silly mustache. The woman is gorgeous, her pale skin and white gown a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and deep emerald green eyes.

“Is this you?” Zarina asks, slightly taken aback, reminded of the fact that the killers probably used to be normal people, just like her. “It was the happiest day of my life,” the Nurse says wistfully. “That was his favorite photo. He said it brought out my eyes, he--he loved my eyes, said they were a reflection of my soul, of our happiness. Which is why I can’t let anyone see my face.” “Because now you’re... unhappy?” Zarina asks, trying to understand. “Because I don’t want anyone to look into my eyes and see the madness that consumed me,” the Nurse whispers.

Zarina is at a loss for words, intrigued about the remorseful killer’s past but not wanting to pry further. She stares at the photo and tries to imagine how the cute, carefree woman in the picture could have ever turned into a bloodthirsty killer.

The sound of the exit gates being powered snaps her out of her thoughts, finally handing the frame back to its owner.

“Thanks for telling me all this,” Zarina says. “Can’t have been easy, what you’ve went through.” “I should be thanking you, for indulging a silly woman her tales,” the Nurse says. “Feel free to stop by, should you happen to wander into this realm from the campfire. I don’t often linger here, but... maybe it would not be so bad, had I company.” “You know, I might just take you up on that offer,” Zarina says, offering a small smile. The sound of a gate opening and the end game triggering reminds her that she’s on a time limit. “Shi--shoot, I’ve gotta run. See you around, uh... ms. Nurse?” “Please, call me Sally,” the killer says, primly bowing her head. “Zarina, was it? Do be careful out there. Your kindness might just be the end of you.” “Doesn’t sound so bad, as far as causes of death go,” Zarina quips, offering a cheeky grin before sprinting off the find the gate.

[sally is precious fight me. and lmao i didn’t even try to be subtle about who toxic nea is inspired by]

[silver-purls]

Cary On Countdown 2019

December 9-Floral

Smoke and Roses

Summary: Simon visits Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s grave

The silence is almost deafening. I feel every echo of my own breath. It catches when I reach the stone door, and I hold it for a moment before letting it out in relief. I’ve been wandering in here for two hours, and the map I copied from the archives really wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped it would be. It’s been years since I’ve been here, actually about five to be exact. It’s still just as creepy as it was then, and I try not to shudder at the row of skulls leading up to the tomb. I know I’ve reached it, even though I’ve never been here before. It’s the largest tomb I’ve seen so far, with a row of skulls and a huge bronze plaque with bold scrawling text.

Natasha Grimm-Pitch

April 4, 1962-August 12, 2002

“Er, hi. It’s good to meet you again,” I start.

The silence greets me, and I take a deep breath before continuing.

“Do you remember me? You came looking for him and you found me instead. Sorry ‘bout that. He wanted to be there when you came. He was so upset to have missed you. It was the first time I ever realized he was capable of anything like that I guess. Anything that wasn’t fighting, or plotting. Or snarling.”

There are dead flowers around the plaque, strewn about and withered with time. Baz and his family come here sometimes to talk to her and leave flowers. I know it must have been a little while since anyone’s been here though, since none of the flowers have any color left in them.

“Anyway. I came here to talk to you about him. And to ask you something. Well I guess, tell you something is a bit better-since I don’t guess I’m going to get an answer from you directly.”

The plaque stares back at me. I can see a distorted type of my own reflection in it. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. If Natasha Grimm-Pitch were still alive, would I be able to say this to her face? I’m not the best with words. She’d probably think I was an idiot. But then again, Baz thinks I’m an idiot and things have worked out alright there.

“First I want to tell you that Baz is doing incredible. He’s so brilliant, Mrs. Pitch. It’s like you gave birth to some kind of genius super fit super…awesome bloke. I wish there was a better way for me to say it, like I wish I had the words to do him the credit he deserves. He’s good at literally anything he tries, and not just good-he’s top of everything. He’s graduating early from Uni with a degree in Linguistics and Political Science, and he’s going directly to apply for a PhD program at Cambridge University. I’m sure he’ll be accepted. He’s graduating first class too. You would have been so proud of him.”

I’m finding my voice now. It’s easy to talk about Baz, it’s the thing we have in common here. He’s my favorite subject. Even when we were enemies, I could talk about him for hours.

“He’s the center of my universe, Mrs. Pitch. I don’t know if you knew that, or if you’re able to see what’s going on down here, if you can watch us or whatever. But I want you to know that I’m in love with him.”

What if she could see everything? What if she was watching us and she saw everything that we did? What would she think? Oh fuck, what if she saw us when we were alone? The thought of Natasha Grimm-Pitch watching me shag her son from beyond the veil is enough to make my stomach do a few flips. I swallow and continue.

“I am sure you know what he is. I mean, even if you can’t see everything. You saw him get bitten before you…died. I’m sure you know, and if you can hear me now you’ve heard him down here before.”

I take a look around me. There are a few small piles of mostly disintegrated rat bones, a few patches that have become a part of the ground here. I imagine Baz at 15, draining rats and talking to his mother’s tomb. I imagine him after our fights. He says he thought about for years while we are Watford. Did he think about me down here?

“Anyway, I want you to know that he’s good. I know he’s a dark creature, but he’s more than good. His heart is so full and he’s so alive. Even when he says he’s not. He’s not just good looking and smart, he’s good. And he’s everything you’d want him to be and more.”

Baz told me once that his mother would have killed him before letting him live life as a vampire. I try to imagine my life without Baz having been in it at all. What if I had a different roommate at Watford and hadn’t had Baz to row with at all? Baz is the one who solved everything. I probably would have kept sucking all the magic out of the world until there was nothing left at all if it hadn’t been for him. I don’t want to think about it.

“Anyways, Mrs. Pitch. I’ve just got a few things left to say before I leave you. I’ve come to bring you flowers. I picked ‘em out myself, Baz doesn’t even know I’m here at all yet. I’m going to tell him after. I’ve brought you flowers, and I want to tell you that I love your son. I might not be good enough for him, but I don’t think there is such a thing as good enough anymore. I’m always going to love him, and I want to show him that I’m not going anywhere.”

I reach into my bag and pull out a small box. I’m holding it now in front of the bronze plaque, I can actually hear my heart beating in the silence of the catacombs.

“I want to marry him, and I’ve come to ask you if it’s alright. To get your blessing. I know you can’t say anything back to me, but it felt right to come and speak to you.”

I brush the flowers gently and smile. It was worth the 2 hours wandering in the dark with all the rats and bones. It’s worth it because it’s for him. I take the box back and stuff it in my messenger bag. I’m grinning now, and it feels right.

“Anyway, I want to say thank you Mrs. Pitch. Thank you for raising Baz, and thank you for saving him. I’ll take care of him. I know that I might not be enough for him. But I’m here to let you know that I’m going to make myself be enough. I’m going to be everything that I can be for him, even when I don’t have anything left to give. It might not be enough and it might not be what he deserves. But it’ll be all of me, cuz that’s all that I can give. I hope you give us your blessing.”

I get to my feet and swing the bag over my shoulder. I’ve just started to walk away when something catches the corner of my eye. The dead flowers around the tomb are starting to bloom. There are at least seven or eight bunches of them, and they’re coming to life. They’re glowing with life and in a way, they’re just glowing. It’s not just the flowers now, its like the entire room is glowing. I can feel it prickling my skin and filling my nostrils, smoky and strong. Magic. I haven’t been able to feel magic at all in three years, but its unmistakable. Steaming magic with deep sultry undertones, hot and clean. I close my eyes and inhale, long and deep. It lingers, then slowly fades, leaving the flowers. They’ve all blossomed now, as if they were plucked from the ground minutes ago and are still blushing with sunlight and dew droplets.

I pick up a rose before I start to walk out again. It smells sweet and fresh, and has the faintest undertone of fire and smoke. I’ll give this to him. I want to give him the universe. But I think that this is enough. I hope that I’m enough.

I’m off to start the rest of my life.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 32

Title & Song:  Growing On Me

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 3500+

Summary: Genevieve gets played by the marriage enthusiast Aggie. - Alfie finds a way to cut through Genevieve’s bad mood. - Genevieve is hit hard with questions about her worth when it comes to romance. 

Warnings/Tags: Language. Fluff.

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Growing On Me by The Darkness. 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-31)

He's come home to an eerily silent house. No one answers him at the door, and he sees no one on the way to his room. As he's changed into something more comfortable and made his way cautiously around the house, subconsciously heading straight for your room, turning swiftly as he hears a noise from the kitchen.

He pads down the dim back hallways of the house that connect almost all the rooms. He hears you and exhales noisily, putting his gun into the back of his trousers. He moves towards the sound of you talking to yourself as you're leaning over slightly, hands on your knees, looking into the oven window. You have a lovely flowing blue dress on, your hair pulled back messily, bits loose and pieces fall in no certain order.

"Where is everyone?" you hear Alfie call from the other side of the kitchen.

"It's a summer day off I give the house staff before my birthday." you explain, turning to face him, showing a smudged apron and a flushed face.

"What do ya do that for?" he asks, chin moving up as he approaches you, hand on the large wooden butcher block top of the island in the center of the kitchen.

"Well it's very stressful on them. The planning, the cleaning up, tending to guests. It can get a bit wild so some can come upon uncomfortable situations and I like my people happy so I give them time off before and after the party." you explain, laying your pot holders to the surface his hand rested on.

"Well that's nice of ya innit?" he asks rhetorically, looking into the oven behidn you. "What ya got in there?" he asks, head nodding towards the dish.

"Dinner." you say with a chuckle. "Hopefully. It's been well over ten years since I've made it." you say with an uneasy smile and a shrug.

"Well what is it?" he clarifies.

"A Potato Kugel." you say, moving with him as he walks towards the oven.

"What ya makin' a Kugel for luv?" he says with a surprised look on his face.

You turn to sit on a stool by the counter. "Well Aggie reminded me it was the anniversary of Ida's death and got me feeling all nostalgic." you say with sweet inflection to your voice.

"Who's Ida?" he asks, turning to you, hands in his pockets.

"She was the nurse I had from before I even born." your lashes flutter, your eyes moving around the room in memory.

"Has Agatha not been with ya that long?"

"She worked in the same home, but she wasn't my personally assigned nurse." you explain.

"Personally assigned nurse. I forget how posh your upbringing was sometimes." he admits with a small half smile and a quick tilt of his head.

"Hush." you say with a chuckle.

"Was this something Ida made?"

"Yes. I loved it when I was younger. She'd made me one special sometimes." he adores the girlish smile that comes across your face as a good memory dances behind your eyes.

"Was Ida one of mine?" he asks, turning his eyes back to the oven for a moment.

"Yeah." you laugh, finding the way he asked his questions very entertaining from time to time. "I don't know much beyond her being Russian and Jewish though." you admit with a furrowed brow.

"Oi, she was like me 'en wunnit she?" he lets out a surprisingly loud laugh.

"Are you Russian?" you ask, your surprise clear in your high pitched voice.

He grins at your big eyes and open mouth. "Me mother was." he says with a nod.

"Well that's a bit of serendipity isn't it?" you say with a childlike wonderment on your face. "That's lovely." you say with a very charming smile, kicking your feet as they don't touch the floor in the high chair.

"Well we'll remember her fondly tonight with this." you say with a heavy sigh. "Aggie thought I could make it from memory. Although I'm not entriely convinced yet that her faith is misplaced, I just haven't cooked anything in so long."

"Yeah I don't know that I've ever seen ya do much besides put jam on toast." he pauses, his fingers pick at his beard as he thinks. "Nah, you's heatin' up leftovers in a pan one night in 'ere wunnt ya?" he chuckles.

"I'm perfectly capable of cooking, I just haven't had to in awhile. Aggie thought it might be nice for me to make something to eat for once since it'd be just a handful of us here tonight. Not like I had to make a huge meal." you elaborate.

"And what better to make than a Kugel?" he says with a grin.

Then it hits you and you start to laugh, your face moving to your hands on the counter.

"What?" he asks, eyes getting wider.

"I got fucking worked by cheeky 'ol Ags is what." you groan out. "Fell right fucking into that." you sigh, turning to face him, wiping your fingers under your eyes.

He stands, raised eyebrows still waiting for a response.

"It's only going to be a few people here tonight. She knew she could use Ida as an excuse to get me to cook. And of course, she lures me right into making a Jewish dish. And she knew you'd be here tonight for dinner. A dinner that I'm making...cooking for the first time since you've moved in...ya see where this is going?" you ask with a wrinkled nose.

The realization blooms across his face as he laughs out loud, eyes crinkling at Agatha. "Relentless." he says with a shake of her head.

"So she IS bothering you about me as well? Because she's sure as fuck bother me about you." you both start to laugh.

"Of fuckin' course she has been Genny." he says gruffly as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

"She is persistent if nothing else." you say with a sigh as you both laugh until a sigh builds between you, biding your time over the cripsing Kugel.

"I meant to tell ya when I came in 'an got so distracted by your divine skills in Jewish cookin' that I must've gotten sidetracked with the urge to propose and forgot." he says with a goofy smile.

You blink your eyes at him, giving him a playfully warning smirk.

"I 'eard some boys talkin' 'bout you today." he says with an odd but not off putting expression. "And a few ladies, come to think." he adds with a nod.

"What?" you ask with an unsure shake of your head.

"I 'eard you's the girl that knocked the granny out 'a Darby." he says proudly before his shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

"Oh, the word must be getting around then." you say with a big, slow nod. "It seemed I got hassled less today and I wasn't sure if it was coincidence or not." you say with a thoughtful pout.

"Apparently that second hit gave him a bit of a shiner and with the need for explanation, that he ain't givin', yeah? It's findin' its way around the rumor mill 'bout now. And apart from the normal derogatory terms that are inescapable amongst that sort of company, it's all about you being quite the little bearcat, roughin' up Darby 'n gangsters like me 'n the like." he gives you a sly smile.

You study his face, still smirking at his words. "They aren't talking about us working together?"

"I 'on't fink nobody gives a flyin' fuck as long as the subject of a woman beatin' up a gangster is on the table." he says in a matter of fact sort of way that your find oddly relieving to hear.

"Seems that worked out in my favor." you say with a huff of a laugh.

"You got all of London whispering about what a tough little bird ya are, luv." he says quietly with a supportive smile, leaning in closer to you.

You aren't really sure how to take the news. It was good, but you were still left nervous. You breathe a sigh of relief after a shielded reassuring smile at him before he moves to fetch drinks. The kitchen is quiet, but it's noisy in your head as you wonder how far the word would spread, and even more curious as to how that rumor might change as it traveled. --------------- You're raging with blood to back up your fury as you've barricaded yourself in your studio again for the few days. It isn't unknown to those who have been in your employee for any amount of time how you prefer to be left alone for a few days a month. And by left alone you mean you are probable to yell, and not in polite words at anyone who did anything to upset you. At this point, you ruled as a ditator in your household, you tried to compensate for your behavior with kindness to your staff, the poor dears.

Alfie pads up the stairs, taking his time, listening to shouts from the landing above him, slowly coming into view. He hears a teacup smash and girl hunched over, trying not to look mad, shuffles out of your studio hurriedly.  He stands and moves his head with her, watching her rush away. He returns his head with a quick swing as he hears Aggie's familiar sigh and a door shutting.

"My word Mr. Solomons," she says rolling her eyes, "Why are you up here? I told you she wasn't fit for company, poor dear." she says, shoudlers slumped, clearly tired and bless her, she was still trying to shine this in a positive light.

"Well she ain't come down for tea 'an then I's told she was feelin' poorly and I thought it proper to bring her somefin'." he says with a hopeful tone that makes Aggie shut her eyes and took a deep breath and hoping to herself that you'd see how thoughtful this man was one day. "I didn't know what was wrong so I just brought her 'is." he holds up a box from his bakery, flowers limply resting on top, wrapped in paper.

Aggie frowns and he's entirely confused by the expresssion. He thought women liked these sorts of things. Her face is really scowling because of how pleasant he could be in his honesty with his shrugging shoulders and questioning brows.

"You really didn't have to go to all that trouble." she says, biting the inside of her cheek at him.

"Well, she coulda been fuckin' dyin' up here what with how no one would tell me what was wrong with her, eh?" he says with a nod, eyes wide.

"She isn't always in such a foul mood," she says with one last sigh, moving away from the door, letting him enter by his own choice. "But there's always the chance she won't be miserable at you if you go in there and be your charmin', young self at her," she says matter of factly, moving slowly back to the stairs. "I don't care what she says, I know she likes it." she says in a sassy way and to no one in particular even though it was just the two of them upstairs.

He clears his throat, readjusting the box in his grip and knocking swiftly on the door.

"WHAT?" you state loudly, not in anger but in the least rude way you could get away with. The door opens with a quiet squeak as he pushes through his hesitancy, still not knowing what he would be met with.

You are perched on a stool, back slightly hunched with one foot resting on the seat, the other hanging down. You were posed much like a gargoyle on a cathedral with your curved back, a claw-like pose of your hands around the paint brush, extended to the canvas as he enters.

"Genevieve?" you hear his familiar voice, it felt even more warm than usual. He must have been warned. You move your face, stone with a heavy brow to his wide eyed curious face with a sigh.

"Alfie..." you sigh noisily. "Why are you here?" you ask in an annoyed drawn out way.

"Can I come In?" he asks politely, his lips pouting just slightly as your eyes narrowed at him, waiting to walk further into the room. At least he wasn't being a pest.

"Fine." you groan, shaking your head and setting down your brush. You turn to see him walk in, the box you know to be from his bakery in his hands, your stomach grumbles at the sight. You notice the paper on the top actually conceals flowers and is not part of the box and your stone face breaks.

The laugh starts in your chest, your eyes squeezing shut as you put your hands over your face as you laugh. You turn your head back to him as he approaches. You slowly drag your hands down your face, pulling bits of pieces of your already wild and haphazard bun that rested on top of your head down with your fingers. You sigh and exhale in a dramatic way. You leave one hand on your face, your fingers over your mouth. You've stopped laughing by the time he reaches your side. You take in his casual appearance, the smell of rum telling you he'd just gotten home from work.

His eyes meet yours, they're cheerful and you give a half smile at what he must've been told about you in this state.  He sees your eyes reflecting something that he thought might be pity and he's not sure why.

"You brought me fucking flowers? You absolute fool." your voice is deeper than usual, more gritty.

"Well you weren't at tea and I was told you felt poorly so..." he shrugs and you lower your hand and take the flowers, moving both legs to a normal sitting position, sitting them on your lap. You readjust the black robe around your shoulders, the paper slides off the slick silk of the floor length gown.

"Why in the hell did you bring me flowers and sweets?" you ask, sounding exasperated but your face read as indifferent, almost amused.

"I was told you felt poorly." he says as if it's obvious. "I thought it proper to bring you somefin." he says in defense of himself. "We live in the same fuckin' house Genevieve, if ya sick, I'm not just gonna ignore you." as he speaks you take the box from his hands and open it, eating one of the round pastries.

"Perhaps you should." you say chewing slowly, your eyes looked tired, the circles under them more visible than the last time he'd seen you.

"Am I not allowed to bring you things when don't feel well now?" he sounds on the precipoce of annoyance to your difficult defaulted setting.

"They didn't tell you why I felt poorly I'm guessing" a single eyebrow raise and subtle half smile, breaking the tight lips that held too much tension.

"Well no but...what's that gotta do with anythin'?" he asks, shaking his head.

"Well, for your ease of understanding, if one were Jewish they might refer to me currently withe term, Niddah." you say, rolling your head back his way, looking for the understanding in his face. It was there.

"Ah." he says rather loudly, making you flinch slightly as you felt sensitive to such things at the moment. "Well everything makes much more sense now, dunnit?" he says with a lazy smirk and a small chuckle as you clearly are holding back a smile, your brow low but your eyes not angry in any way.

You shrug an eyebrow and your shoulders in response.

"Well, you don't gotta separate yourself now do ya? What ya hidin' up here for?" he asks, shoulders losing their stiffness now, his head nodding with his words encouragingly.  

"When I feel particularly overwhelmed I isolate myself. I don't like being such a bear so I prefer to be alone," you say evenly, cooly, no offense meant. "I'm guessing your interpretation of ritual is a bit loose since you're still in the room?" you say with a smirk, side-eyeing him, cracking a joke.

"Eh." he shrugs, his voice gruff. "I fuck up most days anyway dunnit I?" he offers with an easy going nod and eye roll at his own words.

This makes you laugh again, a quiet, more chesty laugh, pieces of hair falling into your face as your shoulders shake. You raise your head nodding, taking another heavy breath and looking over him, your face tired but your smile still subtly worn. "Good it isn't kisses and hugs but rather food and solitary I crave while like this isn't it?" you say with a sarcastic tone, your face back to pleasant.

"After the maids warned me of your foul mood, I didn't think bringin' the former in here with me would be particularly useful. " he says with a smile, his eyes playful.

"I'm never entirely opposed to anything." you say low, a humorus twist to your words, keeping your chuckle silent. "However, I do feel much like a busted old boot in this state." you admit, your face frowning slightly.

"Well now I can't have ya talkin' like 'at about yourself now can I?" he says with a sarcastic over the top frown, moving towards you, you narrow your eyes as he approached with an extended arm. He wraps one around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, after putting your arm around his waist despite your disapproving pout.

You hated how precious the action felt so much in fact, that you started to cramp again.

"I won't wear out my welcome, luv." he says in a warm way that taps against your shield of pouting and frowns. Your raw state, your nostrils twitch at the masculine smell of him as your face was just short of grazing the loose fabric of his shirt. Your mood shifts quickly, as it often does and you swallow as the smell of him relaxes you, breaking through your grumpy phase and pulling you into your stage of craving comfort. "But will you be coming down? I bought some new books and I'm happy to bury my nose in those alone all night if that's what you wish, but I thought it worth askin'." he looks down at you, and you look at him with big kitten like eyes. You sigh and touch his hand that rests on your shoulder with your own.

"You want me to come down for dinner?" you ask, your eyes narrowing from underneath, "Even in this state?" your voice gives away your surprise.

"I want ya in any state, darling." he says, excessively and dramatically throwing his charm at you in an obnoxious way, his head shaking down towards yours, your noses almost touching.

"Fuck off with it now," you say low, your mouth smiling ever so slightly as you shove him away from you by the ribs.  He laughs and holds his side as if you'd hurt him. "Fine. I'm fucking starving anyway."  you sigh loudly , popping another pastry into your mouth. ------- You're outside in a lovely sheer green dress, matching silk slip, blending you into the rows of flowers as you moved in and out, heading towards the path to go in for tea. You're taking your gloves off, beating them outside the door as you look up and see down the long corridor that something rests on the table by the stairs that you hadn't put there, and in the midst of party planning this puts your senses on high alert. You toss the gloves into the box of tools and use the clean side of your apron to wipe the sweat from your face. You step over the boxes of food and decor for your party that lay in organized piles in the long hallway by the entryway to kitchen.

As you approach your brow furrows, your fingers reaching out lightly to touch the purple petals of an Iris. Your soft expression glances over the large floral arrangement that didn't match anything you'd ordered, you find a card inside. "It's not a field and it's not Faberge but it is French and sent with feeling. Happy Birthday." The swooping signature, as big and obnoxious as the man himself didn't have to be seen to know the alliteration to be of his doing.

"What's these?" you hear Aggie ask moving the mixed arrangement of deep jewel tone flowers, the deep purple of iris's with their yellow accents, maroon and navy, all posed in a vase, black and bejeweled sits hidden under the cascading bottom of deep greenery, fluffing the whole thing to it's ground stature.

"From the missus." you say with a laugh, watching Aggie's face as she reads the odd little poem he's left.

"Christ on the cross, Genevieve, this man," she says handing the paper back to you with a huff and readjustment of her apron. "Sometimes I think it's you that doesn't deserve him." she says, picking up the vase, already knowing to move it to your room.

"Oui," you mumble, a subtle nod. "Sometimes I think that as well." you whisper out. A slow inhale and exhale, looking about the room, knowing you had no time right now to address such feelings that his personal touches left you with. You had a party to stage.

PT 33 Dance The Night Away (NSFW)

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

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[blazerina]

Follow My Lead (James x MC)

HERE IS SOME FRESHMAN/SOPHOMORE FRIDAY FLUFF for everyone (before ES rips out our hearts, causes us all intense pain and makes each one of us question the meaning of life) !!!!

Pairing: James x MC

Author’s Note - full disclosure: I’m a huge fan of Dancing with the Stars and dancing in general.  Check out the link at the bottom of this story for the dance that inspired this story idea.

Hope you all enjoy and happy weekend everyone!

---

Look at her.  James thought to himself, watching her through the window.  

His eyes studied her intensely as he observed her every move.  His gaze traveled from the reddish brown hair piled high on her head, to her furrowed eyebrows that indicated both her determination and her frustration. Her light eyes were concentrating, darting back and forth, watching her own reflection in the waxed and shiny wooden floor below her.

“One and two, and THREE and four…” Bridget mumbled as she twirled, letting out an aggravated sigh every now and then.

James had to bite his own lip to keep from laughing out loud as she struggled.  He knew that if she was aware of his presence in the gym, at least right now, it would not end well.  The fiery red-head he fell in love with was passionate in all things; this he knew full well.  

She is beautiful. I’ve never been in love with someone who actually takes my breath away.  Every single time I see her, my chest tightens, my heart beats faster and the air catches in the back of my throat a little bit.  How did I get so lucky?

Subconsciously, James brought a fist to his mouth and coughed, returning his attention to Bridget. His eyes lingered on her form, first her chest, then her behind.  She was wearing athletic gear; a tight fitting purple tank top, leggings, and was barefoot.  It was clear she had been working on this for a while, due to the sweat stains under her arms, the wet tendrils of hair matted against her neck, and the five or six water bottles lining the edge of the gymnasium floor in front of her.

He smiled wistfully, crossing his arms in front of his chest, wanting to watch her just a little bit longer. She was by herself, or so she thought, in the gym at the high school where she taught.  This was her first year as an English Literature teacher at Memorial High, but already she was beloved by her students.  

I’m so proud of her. She’s been working so hard. Not just in the classroom, but outside of it too.  This is exactly where she needs to be.  There is no better place for her to put her passions, goals and dreams to use.  She gives her all to everything she does – even this silly Student Council competition.  God, I love this woman.  She is exquisite. Graceful. Elegant. Sweet…

“Dammit!” Bridget cursed, her word echoing against the empty concrete walls of the room.  She gave up for a moment and allowed her body to melt down onto the gym floor into a heap of sweat and exasperation.

“That’s my girl.” James smiled and opened the door, walking out onto the floor.  He started clapping his hands, and whistling for her.

“Love! Your dancing is wonderful.  I’m glad I finally got to see some of it!” He slowly walked toward her, still in his suit and tie from work.

His blue button down had been unbuttoned at the neck, despite the fact he still wore his tie. It had been loosened some to create a little bit of room, and he still had on his jacket.  He had come to the school straight from work, knowing she planned to stay late in order to rehearse.

Bridget blushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed.  “You saw that?” She asked, standing up and brushing debris from the floor off  of her bottom.

“I can help you with that, you know…” James winked, as he finally reached her and pulled her into him.

“I’m sweaty.” Bridget pouted, looking up at him.  “But you still smell like your cologne.” She smiled, yanking on his tie, slightly.  “What are you doing here?!”

“I wanted to see you. We’ve both had so many late nights this week, I thought I could wait on you to finish and then we could go try the new place down the street.  The one you read about in the paper – Bless? Is that what it’s called?” He paused, not letting go of her, but looking up into the rafters of the high school gymnasium.

“That sounds wonderful.” Bridget let out a high-pitched sigh, as if she was swooning, her head buried still into his chest.  

“But I can’t.  The ‘Dancing with the Teachers’ competition is in two days and I suck, J.  I mean I REALLY…REALLY suck.” She explained.

“I don’t want to let my students down. I only started this job a few months ago and most of the teachers that were chosen for this thing have been at the school for-ev-er.  They’re doing cutsie dances that have themes and catchy songs…how did I end up with an actual ballroom dance routine?”

“Darling,” James cocked his head to the side, looking at her in a disapproving manner.  “I’m here to tell you that you do not suck. Your students will be so proud of you.  It’s an honor to be chosen, is it not?”

“Don’t use that lame-o ‘I didn’t win the Oscar but it’s an honor to be nominated’ line on me, here. I have to do this dance in front of the entire student body.  My assigned partner Tony, from the studio, basically says I’m a lost cause.  I’m starting to believe him.”

“Well then, Tony doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  I already know I don’t like that guy.  For a multitude of reasons, I might add.” He paused for a moment and then clapped his hands loudly, as if ready to get to work..

“I’m here to help.  What can I do?” James asked, honestly.

“Ummm, learn the rumba?” She scoffed, grabbing a water bottle and taking a drink.

“I don’t need to learn it.” He responded, his voice very matter-of-fact. “Play the music.  Let me hear it.” James directed her.

“I’m sorry – I’m confused. James what do you…”

“Play. The music.” He repeated.

Bridget plugged her phone into the auxiliary cable and soon the gym was filled with the slow rhythm and beats of the song that had been chosen for her.  James closed his eyes while he listened to the minute-long clip.

“That’s all?” James asked, as the music faded out.

“What do you mean that’s all?” Bridget asked, incredulously.  

“I’m just surprised it’s not longer – that’s all I mean.  You can do this, Bridge.  I watched you long enough to see the basics.  Let’s see what we can do.” He turned to one of the bleachers and removed his jacket, draping it over the edge.

Rolling up his sleeves, he smiled as he made eye contact at his girlfriend.  “I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckled.

“You’re full of something.” Bridget smirked, her hands finding his as they held each other in the typical ballroom-dance form.  “We’ll find out what, here in a second.”

After Bridget pulled away from him for a brief moment to press play on her phone, music filled the auditorium once again.  Without missing a beat, James pulled her in close to him and whispered, “Follow my lead.”

James slowly ran his hands up and down Bridget’s arms as he turned her around, forcing her to face away from him in one swift movement. At times, their faces were close enough to kiss, but they didn’t.  Bridget could feel heat radiating off of James’ body, and his hot breath against the back of her neck.  

Before she even knew what was happening, James’ hands were on her waist. She was swiveling her hips back and forth, facing him again this time.  Her eyes never looked away from his.  He spun her around again, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly. While his strong arms held her, one around the small of her back and the other around her waist in front of her, she began to follow his feet, mirroring his every move.

She found herself loving the pattern of the dance he was leading her in. They were together then apart, standing then spinning, slow then fast. The moves were chaotic and peaceful all at once.  The dynamic of the dance, along with the dichotomy of the movements, made Bridget smile. She was having fun and actually enjoying herself…but then again she wasn’t surprised, because that was how she always felt when she experienced anything with James.

As he pulled her back into him one final time, his eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he kissed her.  Bridget’s lips felt like they were on fire as they were eager to find his.  Her body dissolved into him as their kiss became more intense with every passing second.

“Told you that you didn’t suck.” James smiled against her lips as she moved in for more kisses.  

He picked her up as she jumped into his arms and locked her legs around his waist.  Holding his face with both of her hands, she pressed herself into him until it was impossible for them to be any closer. It wasn’t until James pulled away that she stopped.

“I’d love to continue this…but it looks like you’ve worked up an appetite.  Why don’t we grab some dinner.” He insisted, as Bridget slowly climbed off of him and put both feet back onto the ground.

“Sounds good.” She giggled, walking back towards the water bottles, gathering her belongings. She slipped her tennis shoes on without tying them and pulled on a hoodie, over her tank top.

Glancing over at James and giving him a quizzical look, she gestured out to the now open dance floor slash basketball court and declared, “How did you…?”

“You know what? Nevermind.” She smirked, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I’m not even going to ask how, or when, or where you learned to do that.”

James shrugged, picking his jacket up off the nearby bench.  “Honestly, I’m a little hurt that you’re astonished by this turn of events.” He slung the suit jacket over his shoulder, feigning offense and grabbing at his chest.

“Listen.  All I want to know is why we don’t practice more of those moves at home.” She wiggled her eyebrows. Her eyes smoldered as she threw her head over her shoulder, glancing back at him with a wicked grin while she walked towards the door.

Looking down and laughing softly, James returned her gaze once he met up with her.  Feeling confident, he lightly tapped her on the bottom and let his hand linger there as she reached up to turn off the gym lights.

Leaning in to kiss her one more time, he paused before their lips met and added, “Maybe tonight…we will.”

 --

Here’s a peek at the rumba that inspired this story:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyy4ht67QnE

[balladserial]

Episode 1: Part 3

The sun blaring through the porthole shakes me from sleep, and I groan and bury my face in my pillow. An extra hour or so of rest would be really appreciated, but months of living on an airship have set my internal clock in stone. Dawn? Time to get up.

My arm still aches furiously, but it's a lot better since Gratitude popped it back into its socket. Despite his...everything else, he’s at least a decent doctor. Still, nun magic aside, he’s not a miracle worker.

That in mind, I take more care than usual in rolling out of bed and getting dressed. Rotating my shoulder enough to fasten my binder in place hurts like hell. Even after last night’s bout of healing magic, the ache is enough to make me put off putting on a shirt for now, or at least until I can do something about the pain. Instead, I stumble into the bathroom to get on with my morning routine.

The Vega Vespa has two bathrooms, or “heads" as Athens insists is the proper parlance. The one I share with Gratitude is small and cramped, and it only has one shower. Technically, it's the kids' head, shared between me, Gratitude, and Clairvoyance V, but constructed intelligences don't really need to shower, and Gratitude is usually up and ready before sunrise. That usually leaves me a precious fifteen minutes of solitude. Usually.

This time, I barely have time to splash a handful of water on my face before I hear the sharp crackle of radio static from the speaker behind me. I sigh and reach for a bar of soap.

'Morning, Clair," I mumble as I start to scrub at my face. “What’ll it be, today?"

Clairvoyance ponders that for a moment.

“Y’know what, Tal?" replies the voice from the speaker. "Dunno. Surprise

me."

I splash my face with water once again, washing away the suds and dirt. My own face stares back at me from the mirror, flushed from the brutal scrubbing I just gave it. It's the same old face, though; still rounder and softer than I’d like it to be, still tanned from constant sun exposure. Still me, I guess.

"Um," I say out loud. "How do you feel about Miss Clairvoyance today?"

"Works for me!" chirps Clair from the speaker. I can't see her face, but she sounds practically beaming. I sigh and reach for the razor balanced precariously where the faucet meets the wall.

“How’s my stubble looking?” I ask, still studying my face in the mirror. It’s...difficult not to focus on all my flaws when they’re right there.

“Do you want the honest answer, or the one that will make you feel better?” Clairvoyance replies.

I furrow my brow.

“Honest.”

“You had five o’clock shadow when I met you. And that was waaay before you started taking T.”

I snort and chuck a bar of soap over my shoulder, where it bounces off the speaker grate and rolls uselessly to the floor. Clairvoyance erupts into canned laughter that sounds like she ripped it off a radio show or something.

“I’ll never understand you humans,” Clairvoyance continues, watching me apply shaving cream over my shoulder. “If you want to grow facial hair, why do you go to the trouble of shaving it off every morning?”

“Cuz,” I say, doing my best not to cut myself with the razor while holding this conversation. “I don’t want a beard. I just want to know I could grow one if I wanted to.”

“You are so weird,” Clairvoyance replies matter-of-factly.  “Bold words from someone whose ideal gender expression is a small metal bird,” I mutter.

Shaving doesn’t take long. Despite my best efforts to grow it, there really isn’t much there to shave. It’s more about the routine of it. I wash the remaining foam off my face and smooth a layer of lotion on.

“I don’t understand why you’re so insecure about the facial hair thing, anyway,” says Clairvoyance as I head down the hall, my boots making short thuds on the hardwood decks. “Mikael went through a similar gender transition to yours, and he has a magnificent beard.”

“Mikael has a different body from me,” I explain, rolling my eyes. “Everyone’s bodies respond differently to hormones, y’know.”

“I’m told most adolescents of your age have difficulty growing facial hair, regardless of hormone type” Clairvoyance says.

I round the corner of the corridor, heading towards the galley. The sweet smell of fresh-baked bread is already starting to wash over me, and my mouth waters involuntarily. I can hear, clear as day, the sound of something frying in butter.

God bless Mikael Pages.

The next thing I make out is the racket of two voices arguing. Also pretty par for the course. I can’t quite process the words, but by the cadence, it sounds like Gratitude and...Athens? Weird. Athens doesn’t usually get involved in petty shipmate drama.

The words start to filter in the closer I get to the galley.

“-the INDIGNITY of your people to bring fire here is frankly unconscionable, and I have no idea how you can continue to defend it having so much as met me-”

Athens’s voice is pitched up a full octave from her usual tone, her words taking on an odd growl I’ve only ever heard on her once or twice. She sounds well and truly pissed off.

“Hellfire is a sacred facet of Christian worship,” retorts Gratitude’s calm voice. “You can’t simply expect the entire church to simply abandon-”

“Sacred!” Athens interrupts, indignant. “Hellfire- fire where there should be no fire- that’s the furthest thing from sacred! To defy the material will of the planet we call home is the most damned profane thing I can think of, and I’ve seen some shit in my day. You know, there’s a reason Arcadia V disallowed combustion when humanity arrived, and you can bet it wasn’t because of a goddamn smoke allergy.”

“I’d thank you not to take the Lord’s name in vain,” Gratitude replies, just as indignant, “and none of us can presume to know the will of the planet, but if we have been given Hellfire, it must be for a-”

I enter the galley and the debate abruptly grinds to a halt. Athens and Gratitude are leaned over the dining table, practically butting heads, while Mikael bustles about in the kitchenette, pointedly ignoring the argument brewing outside. I don’t blame him; it’s pretty common to have to overlook a screaming match or two around here, although usually, it’s Gratitude giving me hell for some petty misstep or breach of decorum. He has such an enormous stick up his ass, I’m not surprised Athens has an issue with him now.

Gratitude glances up and immediately yelps in horror and covers his eyes. He’s lucky his skin is so dark. because otherwise I’m sure he’d be turning bright red.

“Goddess’s sake, Tal, put a fuckin’ shirt on,” Athens says, covering for Gratitude’s sudden speechlessness.

“Wh- Athens, I am wearing a shirt.”

“A binder is not a shirt!” she insists. “It’s underwear!”

“Are my tits out?” I retort. “No? I’m wearing a goddamn shirt.”

Gratitude winces, and I roll my eyes in a wide arc.

“Before you say anything,” I continue, “You can only police my blasphemy in your designated zone. This is not the infirmary.”

“Food,” announces Mikael loudly, sliding several plates across the counter. The tension abruptly shatters, although Gratitude is still conspicuously avoiding looking at me. I grab my plate and move it closer, already reaching for a fork.

Credit where credit is due, the food looks delicious. The thick slice of French bread on the plate is still warm to the touch, and a generous helping of eggs and bacon spill over onto it. The side of the plate is lined with a pile of skyroot homefries, with their delicious buttery, garlicky smell and their familiar purple color. I dig in even as Gratitude is busy saying his Grace.

“Where’s Captain Warring, anyway?” I ask with a mouthful of food. “I figured she’d be the first up.”

Mikael chuckles and looks above my head. I sigh.

“She’s right behind me, isn’t she?” I ask flatly. Mikael nods.

“Good morning, Recordkeeper Joane,” says Captain Warring’s voice from over my shoulder. Despite already knowing she was there, I can’t help but jump a bit. “Doctor Where-The-Sun-Sinks-Below-The-Sea. First Mate Devon-Korat. Chef Pages. Mechanic Clairvoyance, wherever you are.”

Unusually formal. Not a good sign.

I swallow my mouthful of food.

“Captain, about yesterday-” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Needless apology will get you nowhere, Joane,” she says flatly. “My decision is final.”

I frown.

“But Captain-”

“Am I the captain of this ship?” she asks sharply.

I nod mutely.

“And are you not severely injured?” she continues.

“It’s just a dislocated shoulder-”

“Deck duty, Joane,” she says with an air of finality. I lower my head. “Are you fit to work?”

My shoulder twinges in pain as if to spite me.

“No,” I admit. “Unless Gratitude has another one of those healing spells in him.”

Captain Warring glances at Gratitude, who is still conspicuously staring at the wall, covering his mouth with one hand. He looks up.

“Er,” he says. “No, I really need a good eighteen hours of rest before I can heal again. Maybe if I still had all my powers, but since I’m excommunicated-”

“Noted,” Captain Warring interrupts. “Joane. You’re on music until your shoulder is fully healed. And no away missions.”

Clairvoyance lets out a low whistle. I shoot the nearest speaker grate my most withering look, and go back to shoveling food into my mouth.

“You’re all dismissed for duty when you’re done eating,” Captain Warring continues. “But reconvene topside at 1900 hours. I want to have a crew meeting.”

I move to pick up my meal and go.

“And Joane?” Captain Warring adds.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Put on a shirt.”

[Episode 1 Part 2] - [Episode 1 Part 4]