tactax-art · 2 years ago
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Do. Not. Disturb.
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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years ago
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Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader
Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.
Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense
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“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”
The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.
Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.
“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.
Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”
Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”
“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”
You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”
The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”
——
Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.
You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.
They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.
“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”
Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”
“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.
“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.
“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”
“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”
Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.
——
Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.
“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.
“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.
“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.
“Fine. Come here then.”
In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”
“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”
“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”
Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.
Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”
Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”
Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.
“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”
——
“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”
“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.
“Well the title is very misleading.”
“Agreed.”
Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.
Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.
“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”
Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.
Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”
“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.
He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.
Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.
Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.
“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.
“Yes. To check out.”
——
Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.
“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.
Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”
“Why my room?”
“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”
“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.
After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.
He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.
Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.
Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.
That was close.
“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.
“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”
“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”
“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.
“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”
Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”
“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”
-
Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”
“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?
“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”
“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”
“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”
“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.
“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.
“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.
“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.
“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.
“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.
“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.
Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.
After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.
Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.
Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”
A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.
Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”
“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.
“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.
“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”
Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can��t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”
Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.
“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”
“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”
“And you’re missing out.”
“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”
“Aren’t you dead?”
“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”
Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.
Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”
Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.
“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.
“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”
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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years ago
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Beth and WOD!Billy - ❤♡❥ღ💕💘💝💓💌💟💙💚💜💛
This || Not Accepting
❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private? 
In public Billy becomes a distant shore. Too far to reach no matter how hard she swims, how much sea water she ends up swallowing, how far she stretches out her fingers to reach him. To hold his hand, to press her cheek against his arm, to take umbrage in the shelter of all that he is. He reminds her there are cameras everywhere. There are covert agents like himself, there’s research assistants, Extraordinary Citizens. That are all on the Front Lines ready to devour any mistake he makes. To bring the whole thing crashing down on their heads, and that as radiant as he finds his older sister, that she is not exactly shy about flying her Deviant flag, is she?
It crushes some of her spirit and Billy regrets having to do it, but it’s for the Greater Good. He always tells himself that but alone, in his own sanctum, those beliefs are starting to crumble. One part of him wonders if this is all a test of his truest loyalties to his convention, carefully constructed in the Ivory Tower by Control. Forcing him to choose between humanity and three very high value targets. If capture and indoctrination is the plan, or eradication if he doesn’t manage to bring them over. Another part of him, the one that is still fur and fang and not quite the eidolon of his Enlightened Genius shakes its head in shame. Billy should know better. He should remember that dying light in her eyes and swear to make it up to her, no matter the cost. Maybe this is malfunction. Maybe this is what madness feels like. ♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?
There’s a movie she’s made him watch, that she’s seen a dozen times, enough that she doesn’t miss the words, doesn’t need them to flash across the screen. She curls up against him and jokingly tells him the main protagonist is clearly an Ecstatic ~one of her so called Nine Traditions~ and that she thinks the paradigm contained in it is beautiful.
He enjoys it because it makes his apartment feel less lonely, less sterile. It leaves the ghost of her as an impression against his skin. The scent of popcorn and the coconut and sandalwood and cinnamon that always clings to her skin will now linger on his. She’s soft and curved and quiet, all the things that his world is not. And he has that weird feeling that she somehow bypasses his circuitry, his implants, even though that should be impossible, to dig a place inside of him that she can fit.
But even when she’s gone, a line from the film sticks with him. One he can’t shake, so he hides it in an internal file buried so deep that even he will have trouble finding it again.
"Have you never met a woman who inspires you to love? Until your every sense is filled with her? You inhale her. You taste her. You see your unborn children in her eyes and know that your heart has at last found a home. Your life begins with her, and without her it must surely end." 
❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine's day?
He’s going to punch the other two dead in the face when they get back. Because it can’t be anything less than a conspiracy between the three of them that he goes to sleep in his own bed, all algorithms in suspend mode, only to wake up to the sound of waves lapping against the wood and fibreglass of the hold, the sea choppy and cold and grey. Like the sky if he bothers to look out of a porthole.
The bunk is a little cramped for his liking, not exactly built for a man of his stature and construction. The benefit of hypertech enhanced limbs is that they don’t exactly ache for the narrowed confinement. The space beside him still holds the ghost of her warmth, her scent, and it isn’t hard to imagine the sheets wrapped around her lithe frame. Hair spilling over his arm like a dark flood. But it’s her voice that teases him awake.  “So since we no can do da whole public kine,” she murmurs, “I t’ought I’d surprise ya. Ren’ned one boat for couple days. An’ bonus... my friends who helpin’ us out... says dey know of a crew a pirates dat need t’ be... how ya say it? Sanitise?” He winces at the word, and how close it is to the reality of it. He raises a brow, loath to interrupt her when her voice is still raspy from sleep, and because everyone else is used to discounting her, cutting her off. “Cause dey fangy-fangy/bitey-bitey.” She makes comical fangs with her fingers curled in front of her mouth. He slides out of bed and into a slumped seating position and she comes over, sits beside him. She presses a mug of scalding hot tea into his hands. It’s dark. Slightly sweet. It doesn’t matter when she smiles. “Happy Volentimes day. An’ good mornin’.” He presses his nose into the crown of her hair. “Mornin’ Izzy.”
ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?
Standing on the upper deck, face in the wind, eyes closed, Billy can hear it. The distinct creak of timbre. The whip-snap of the canvas in a gale, his hands weathered and calloused as he climbs the shrouds to secure a ratline. Everything is heavy with sea spray and the acrid smell of spent powder. The rush of having overtaken a heavy vessel. The pounding of his heart after a successful boarding action. New men aboard. Supplies and wealth taken and secured below. He can see faces and hear names that were long since dead, maybe never existed at all.  There’s a word on the tip of his tongue but when he reaches for it, it vanishes. It tells him he doesn’t really want to know because Billy doesn’t really forget, does he? He doesn’t. And so the only person standing against him is himself.
He blames her with her talk of pirates and her gift of the open sea past the international dateline. Gives him fanciful day dreams, that’s all it is.  He stiffens when he feels skin on skin. Rudimentary procedure tells him it’s her before he even opens his eyes. Which he chooses not to. Instead he curls his fingers around hers; too small, too delicate. Afraid he’ll crush them if he isn’t careful. Afraid he’ll crush her. 
💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?
“I will NOT have you shaming the family, Elizabeth!” For a moment with his voice roused in anger, Andy sounds exactly like their father. And she stands there, taking the brunt of it, doe eyes full of a shame and grief that did not come close to being able to be described. She is reduced to something less than herself, something barely more than a child the way she twists her fingers into the waist of her skirt, head tilted toward the floor where maybe that gaze could burn a hole into the wood floors. Shoulders forward and down, all of her making itself as small as possible. Perhaps protectively, perhaps because it cannot hold up the heaviness of Andy’s anger. “....m’ sorry.”  Barely two words, slurred into one.
She hadn’t meant to do or say anything wrong. She hadn’t meant to make a scene at the party. Hadn’t meant to make Billy chase her into the room. Of course, there’s a lot of things she doesn’t mean and it makes it so hard to breathe sometimes.
She can’t say she really understands why he’s mad. Why he’d waited until everyone, including Billy had left, why Baz’s half-hearted interference from the kitchen where he’s cleaning up... “Leave’r ‘lone, Andy” ... goes unheard. “May I be ‘scused?” “Go to bed. We’ll deal with damage control in the morning.” Beth decides then and there, she hates Halloween.
💘: who developed a crush on the other first?
It’s called the Westermarck Effect. A psychological hypothesis that people who live in close domestic proximity during the first few years of their lives become desensitised to sexual attraction with one another. And when a brother and sister, for example, are brought up separately, never meeting until they reach adulthood or adolescence they might find one another highly sexually attractive. The science clearly bears out.
But he wants to hear it from Andy’s own mouth.  The source of his bitterness, his distance, the rage that has him lifting hands and laying them on his little brother. Panting, he looks up from where he’s crouched. Jaw hard. Back of his hand swiping at the lick of blood on his lip. He hitches himself to his feet and reaches out a hand, waits until Andy reaches back and helps pull the other man to his feet. An honest dust up that’s gotten most things out of the way so that they can actually talk. “So tell me, Andrew, is it that she’s makin’ eyes, or that it’s not at you?”
💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?
The adverts on the telly and radio and every bit of media give off suggestions. Every kiss begins with Kay. De Beers A Diamond is Forever. It’s all part of the carefully cultivated stratagems of the Syndicate. A means to control the economy based on the products it chooses to endorse, and which they decide to bury.  But the problem isn’t his fellow conventions, but rather the fact that Beth isn’t that kind of woman. She doesn’t want for material things, not in the way that can be neatly wrapped up in a box with a bow. She wants for the sea in her soul. She wants for a quiet acceptance. She wants for the soft kisses and hands pressed to hearts vowing forever at the end of the fairy tale. She wants an end to the War or at least an escape from it. She wants all of humanity to achieve this mystical Ascendance of hers, that reminds him of a song from the 70s or something What can you give a woman like that? You don’t exactly. You can’t. It means switching sides. It means becoming a traitor to your own. Not that she’s ever asked. Not that she has to, what with everything that is changing within him. She’s shown him things that he never contemplated before, things he’s never hoped to experience. For the first time, he’s starting to question the party line. And that’s dangerous. “Let me see the other one. The one with the pearls.”
💓: who initiates most physical contact?
She tucks her feet under his leg when they’re cold. Which is always. Her fingers find a home intertwined with his the moment he stops typing. Even if there’s a mile of couch, she tries to climb into his lap at every opportunity. She talks with her hands and smiles with her eyes and her lips at once. Small kisses on the back of his neck. Somehow she’s always brushing against him as she walks by. She’s always been the physical type. It’s a language as well as a form of affection and he thinks he’s starting to figure it out. Or at least he thinks he has, but then she changes the rules.
Suddenly she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. How she finds a way to not be in the same room even if they are seated right next to him. When she dances with him it feels like they’re on other planets.
For all that he wants to give chase, he doesn’t. Gives her space. Hopes that’s enough to bring her back around because he’s starting to miss the little things. Teeth has other things to say about it but you don’t always listen to your not so imaginary weasel.
💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?
Sheryl from R and D eyes him when he laughs out loud. He waves a hand and recites the pithier parts of an Onion article he’d read weeks before. All while staring at the face she’s making, rubber glove on her head like a cockscomb. She’s always sending him little things. A picture from the ER. Something silly she saw on the way to or from work, depending on what shifts she’s taken. Corny little jokes he knows has taken her weeks to come up with. Things he memorises and deletes because he doesn’t want a single trace of her that can be caught by the higher ups. But that doesn’t mean that he wants her to stop. In a lot of ways it speaks volumes that she cares enough about him, that she thinks about him as much as he does her, that she sends them. His favourite so far is the Giraffe prodding a duck with one enormously long leg. He normally doesn’t send anything back, no channel completely secure, but he does make a point to mention it when he gets back to his place. Which reminds him, she’s been spending an awful lot of time there.
💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibility?
She sits sprawled on the floor. There’s books and charts, some ancient and some new, all around her. She has graph paper, pencils and pens, a compass and slide rule, all the trappings of higher mathematics. But she’s not solving complex equations or a new hypothesis for string theory. “It’s complete rubbish!” he laughs, stirring the garlic green beans around the wok with a touch of sesame oil. “The stars aren’t even in the same position as they were back then, some have burnt out, the gravitational axis of-” “Nu-uh!” she counters, just as amused, just as passionate. “Astrology one of da very firs’ sciences, William. In fact, ya very own Celestial Mastahs-” Void Engineers, Beth. They’re called the Void Engineers. “-spoke wide an’ advocated it in academic circle. Related it t’ astronomy, alchemy, me-meat- “Meteorology.” “Yeah, dat. An medicine. Da Greek, Chinese, Mayans, Egyptians, Macedonians. All’a da big civilisation. Even in da political circles of literature, li’dat Dante Alighieri an’ Chaucer, Shakespeare, Lope De Vega, Calderon de la Barca, who I don’ t’ink was related t’ Hannibal but mebbe. No was til da nineteen century when you guys edged forward wi’ da Sleepahs-” “Beth?” “Yeah?” “Could you come here a second?” She rises like a very strange Polynesian Venus from her sea of pseudoscience and pads her way over to him. He leans down and kisses her gently on the lips. She pulls back from him and shakes her head, flashing him her shark-smile. “See? See dat? Spoken li’ true Libra.”
💙: who is more protective?
He watches her from near the treeline, crouched down low, one set of knuckles in the deep loam offering himself balance. She rabbit runs and for a moment he is consumed more in her motion than watching the surroundings. Shapely legs and perfect little feet fleet, flashing their tawny hue in the sun. Braids bouncing down her back. Go, girl, go. She almost makes it. But on her blind side there’s a blur. Taller than her. Near twice as broad. Intends to take her down like a lion on the Savannah. Billy sees red. Literally. And he springs. Primium laced muscles and bone primed and pumping at optimal levels. Gives him a deceptive speed and the length of his stride eats up the earth at his feet. He clips the body at the waist, drives him to the ground. Makes him drop the weapons at hand that break harmlessly open. There’s a struggle. Of course there is. Half-powered punches that gain his victim no leverage, a rolling tussle where he keeps coming on top, shoulder crashing into chest until he turns and coughs. Gasping for air. Body changing to something harder than flesh, but slow. He gets in one more good punch.
“Billy.” He looks up. Andy’s standing there. Pinning her in his arms. Her feet dangle off the ground, her eyes wild. One of his hands wrapped around her throat. A short jerking twist and she’d-- ”Let him go.” He blinks. Looks down at Baz, sees him for the first time. Realises the weapons are water balloons. And Beth? She still has the football in hand, because she’d crossed the finish line. Their point, then. He still doesn’t understand all the rules to this combination flag {American} football and water balloons and trivia game. Billy hitches to his feet. Offers an apologetic hand to Baz who declines. Politely. When Baz crosses over to Andy’s side, Riley lets her go. Gives her a little shove toward Billy. There’s a fading hand-print around her neck, but she smiles and kneads her head into his chest. He puts an arm around her and glares at the other two who are checking each other over.
Riley will learn one of these days that he’ll keep his hands off her. And he’ll learn it a broken bone at a time, his or someone else’s.
💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?
She stitches his skin. He feeds her soup. They sleep like the dead.  She tends to his scars the way he shepherds her dreams. They work.
💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?
He said once, the first time. She rejected it out of turn. She repeats it later. They never speak it again. But they do everything to make it manifest. Every touch and every look everything they do for one another.  But the words sit in their throats. Haunt their eyes. Loud. Shrieking. How the rest of the world doesn’t hear it, he’ll never know. She’s asleep now, and his fingers trail through her hair. She looks so innocent, so untouched by anything, even him as her chest rises and falls with quiet breathing.
How many times are they going to spiral around each other?  As many as it takes. Until they can howl down the heavens.
💛: who believes in soulmates?
Nails dig into the back of his neck as he holds her fast. One arm around her hips. One climbing the trellis of her ribs like ivy, fingers resting in the space between her shoulders as she arches back. His face pressed into the wide valley between her breasts. The harsh echo of his panting breaths, the sweeter song of the guttural moan he’s dragged out of her throat, her throat exposed, mouth parted in a rictus of pleasure-pain. She calls it the Lotus position, the way she’s seated in his lap, and he’s buried to the hilt. Legs wrapped like chains around him as the last twitches and jerks bleed him dry inside of her. She calls this tantric. Finishing together. Raising power. He calls it love and his is hers and hers alone. And there’s only one way that will ever end. “Death first, Izzy.” He writes the words across her sweat soaked skin. “Always.” She answers and swans her neck into his shoulder where her teeth draw blood.
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