rqs902 · 6 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
🐯✨ A Guide to Mr. Tyger ✨🐯
Resources to learn more:
Official youtube: here - they have a bunch of high quality MVs!!!
夜空悬浮 (Suspended in the Night Sky) 
去未来 (To The Future)
钛戈 (Tyger)
and more!! most of their songs have MVs, not all of them are on their youtube, lemme know if you need help finding one!
Official spotify: here - they have a ton of good songs!! 
Official weibo: here
��春有钛戈 youtube channel: here
Unhelpful Guide to Mr.Tyger (!!! very helpful)
Tyger Signal Station with english subs (their variety show)
Color coded lyric videos of all of their songs
Vocal and dance covers, girl group dance videos, live performance, this silly video of them singing Small Confession, etc.
My youtube channel: here
Idol Planning Agency with english subs (!!! important interview)
Radio Interviews, Paopao letter reading, etc. with english subs
QCYN extra clips of Mr. Tyger with english subs
(answering this ask)
159 notes · View notes
amariaamaris · 3 years ago
Text
Of Changes and Revelations
I got this idea from the other Marvel and TVD crossover that I did, it is going to be (hopefully) very different. I hope it comes out well and that I do it justice... I’m already working on a second part, I felt that this was getting a little to long! Please let me know what you think and if there are any grammar/spelling/punctuation things that need fixing. Constructive criticism is always welcome. This took me forever, there were so many roadblocks and questioning myself on if I actually wanted to write this. Thanks to my sister pushing me and my imagination running wild with promises of what I can do in the future with this... I decided to go through with it... so enjoy!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After it’s all said it done; after Esther failing in killing her children, Bonnie’s mother being turned to break the link, Abby bailing (again), Klaus forcing Bonnie to break the spell Esther did... The expulsion of magic that resulted inadvertently saved Finn’s life, knocking out the scooby gang in the process (including most everyone in the town). While also setting fire to anything flammable within the radius of the town (leaving only a select few homes and buildings untouched). It’s safe to say all the white oak is gone... along with multiple buildings.... (oops?) The poor trees are all fried, though luckily they have strong bark, so they’ll survive (it also helps that Bonnie helped to heal them).
All of it coalesces and brings Bonnie to locking herself up in her grams house for as long as she pleases with no acknowledgement of the outside world. She had methodically gone through the house and unplugged the internet, tv’s, shut down her phone, and all other electronics. She just wants to be left alone, Bonnie is exhausted; she’s tired of being used, abused, and taken for granted.
She had found a boundary spell in one of the grimoires to keep those with ill or selfish intent off her property and the fu- away from her (especially certain vampires). In the middle of the week Bonnie left her grams house and went to the school. At the beginning of the week she set up this time to test out of high school.
Bonnie made sure to blend in with the crowd to not be spotted by her “friends”; they may have not seen her, but she definitely saw them. She took the test within three and a half class periods and got the hell out of there. Bonnie drove away like a bat out of hell and made it back to her grams house as fast as she possibly could. She had completely moved into her grams house throughout the one after another of the supernatural shit show that she now calls her life (or rather did call her life). Not like her father was ever around for her to bother staying in his house.
The plus side of testing out of high school is that she can go and get whatever she needs without being worried about being ambushed by her “friends” or the Mikaelson's. Bonnie has also decided that she is going to take all the time that she needs to spend on self-love, working with her magic to learn, and embrace it joyfully. She also has been spending time in meditation and speaking with all of her ancestors. For once in her life, Bonnie Shelia Bennett has finally decided to be selfish and damn the consequences.
Little did she know that her new change would go right along with a huge change that will flip her world on its axis and bring up deeply buried memories.
————
Rudy Bennett knew that this day would come, he knew that eventually they would hunt him down. After all, he did abandon his post, he cut off all contact and went rogue. In doing so, also kept his child away from her culture and her people. He knows that if they find out about her and his lack of parenting, that would sign his fate.
Rudy couldn’t hide his shaking hands as he poured himself a drink and promptly chugged what was in his glass. He did decide that he wouldn’t run or hide, he was going to wait for them to come. He just got done pouring his second one when the lights flickered off; causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine, he could also feel sweat on the back of his neck.
When the lights flickered on, there were two Dora Milaje standing on the other side of his desk. Still as stone holding their vibranium spears, with the king and his cousin standing in between them. Both in different black panther suits (armor?), causing Rudy to gulp. Rudy could feel more sweat break out on his skin as he warily stared at his king.
“D’Kadi Dzube, you’ve been missing a long time.” Rudy or rather D’Kadi watched as both the men tapped on their collars and watched as the mask melted away and showed their faces. Rudy could hear his blood rushing to his ears as he felt himself pale a little. “You were once my father’s most trusted war dog. Then one day, you disappeared without a trace. Just a few months ago we found you... we also found some very interesting information. D’Kadi Dzube you have a daughter that you hid from your people. From my understanding you have been neglecting her as well.”
Rudy could hear ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his body, he could imagine that he looked white as a sheet. Everything was blurring and before he knew it his eyes were rolling and he fell into darkness.
————
Bonnie could feel something coming to the depths of her bones, it would cause her to pause as her hair would stand up on its ends. Which would lead her to looking out the windows, but there was nothing there. It got to the point where Bonnie decided to add an extra warding to the house rather than the property. Evidently to keep anyone away from the structure of the home, while still being able to enter the yard (only if they pass the wards on the property that is).
Bonnie had started a cute little herbal and vegetable/fruit garden in her backyard, along with some landscaping spanning around the whole house. Along with flowers on both sides of the pathway walking up to the house. Bonnie has never before felt this free and happy. That doesn’t change the fact that she still feels a phantom twinge of pain when she thinks of how her friends haven’t even tried to come visit her. Not. A. Single. One.
Hell! Even Klaus showed up! Not that he could get on the property and it’s not like he was checking up on her... but still! Bonnie lets out an annoyed huff and shakes her head as she focuses back on her plants at the front of the house. She tries to work through her agitation; at her friends, the Mikaelson’s, the Salvatore’s, her parents, her grams for not teaching her from the beginning, at herself for not being smarter and wiser, and Bonnie might as well add the world to the list to. 
She very quickly finds herself falling into a flow of taking care of the plants as everything washes away. Bonnie has found that in many instances doing something like this puts her in a meditative trance that helps to center her. Two hours pass with Bonnie working on her plants, when she hears a car drive up and park on the curb.
Bonnie allows herself to slow down in her landscaping work, but doesn’t turn around - even as she hears the car doors open and shut. She can also hear strangely accented voices talking, both male... but she can sense more people with them. Hearing them coming closer makes Bonnie glad that she chose to wear a wide brimmed straw hat that belonged to her grams (she’s rather not have people recognize her before she can tell whether or not they are threats). 
“Excuse me? Are you the daughter of Rudy Bennett and Abby Bennett....” She freezes, but gives no answer. Bonnie can already feel her magic gathering, ready to motus the hell out of all of the people behind her. Receiving no answer, the people behind her exchange looks, “Granddaughter to Shelia Bennett?” Bonnie feels her agitation spike, causing her to rip off her dirty gardening gloves and throw them to the ground.
Bonnie turns around to look at them, noticing two men that look like cousins, two bald women that have what look to be tribal tattoos on their heads, and a random white man wearing clothing far heavy for how warm it is. Bonnie can practically feel her magic crackling at her fingertips and through her hair. “That depends on who is asking and why...?”
One of the cousins move to step forward, but upon seeing the look on her face, thinks better of it. Though, that didn’t stop him from kindly smiling at her, “My name is T’Challa, this is my cousin N’Jadaka, these two women are Okoye and Ayo, and this is James Barnes. I would like to speak to you about your father.”
Bonnie studies all of them and then flicks her eyes back to T’Challa, before she can respond with something biting, she hears whispers upon the wind. She allows herself to slightly tilt her head to listen better. After a few seconds Bonnie focuses back on T’Challa and the people he brought with him. “I’m not interested in talking about the sperm donor that calls himself my father. I could care less what type of underground cultish mafia he got himself into. If he owes you anything make Rudy deal with it, his problem’s aren’t mine to deal with.”
Bonnie quickly makes her way onto the porch of the house - without turning her back on them (she doesn’t have a death wish) - already knowing that whoever these people are, they aren’t going to let her off easily. N’Jadaka, the man with weird bumps all over his extremely musc- no! Bonnie quickly mentally shakes herself as he snickers with a smirk on his face. “I don’t think I have ever heard someone call people from Wakanda a cult or mafia. The little kitten does have a point cousin.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, “She should be wary, she knows nothing about her father’s history. “
“N’Jadaka...” T’Challa gives him a sharp warning look, not noticing Bonnie moving to open the front door to slip inside. “Where do you think you’re going kitten? We said we wanted to talk that’s what you’re going to let us do!” He moves to go onto the porch, but feels like he hit a brick wall, N’Jadaka also gets a nasty zap throughout his entire body. Causing him to hiss slightly in pain as the group takes notice of the wind picking up and hissing whispers upon the wind (not that they could make out what they were saying). They do notice how Bonnie seems to understand exactly what is being said upon her head whipping around to face the road. All of them watched as she ripped off her hat and lightly tossed it onto the porch swing, they heard the sharp angry hiss escape from her as her green eyes darkened.
The group from Wakanda evenly spaced themselves out as they turned upon hearing a car door slam, they all watch as a long blonde haired young woman walked around the car and onto the property. “Bonnie! Where have you been? We have all been trying to get a hold of you, you haven’t been at school, you haven’t been answering your phone or showing up to practice! We’ve been worried! Honestly Bonnie Bennett you better have a good reason for completely cutting all of us out of your life... who are these people?!” Bonnie stares at Caroline for a few seconds realizing that her chest no longer hurts when thinking of her ex-friends. In fact Bonnie realizes with sudden clarity that there isn’t pain when she thinks of her friends, only white hot fiery fury and looking at Caroline only makes her annoyance and fury rise at the audacity that she had to show up to her grams house unannounced at her house, at her sanctuary.
“Who they are is none of your business Caroline, in fact they were just leaving, like you will be. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk to people that ruined my perfectly peaceful day by arriving unannounced.” Turning her attention to the curious onlookers Bonnie continues “I don’t care to talk about Rudy and whatever shit show he’s gotten himself into,” looking to Caroline “and I don’t want to be forced to listen to lies! I’m well aware that none of you have noticed my absence up until a couple days ago. I’m also aware that none of you actually care for me, all of you just see me as some weapon to be used. Well I’m done being your sword and shield. I want all of you the hell off of my grams property. Do whatever you want with Rudy, it’s not my problem and I want nothing to do with it. Caroline you and the rest of those assholes can shove your lies and demands up your asses. I’m not going to be your quick fix to problems you brought on yourselves. Grow the fuck up and deal with them yourself! Now get the fuck off of my property!”
The front door slams viciously behind Bonnie, whose screaming voice still echoed in the air with whispers following it, the group from Wakanda all had their eyebrows almost to their hairlines. While Caroline’s jaw was dropped almost to the ground in shock and hurt. “You should leave Care-o-line, you’re no friend of hers.” N’Jadaka’s voice quickly pulls her out of it and brings up her misplaced righteous fury. “Oh, really, I am her friend. Who the hell are you? From the way it was looking none of you are friends of Bonnie’s! I’m her best friend!! You had to have done something to upset her, she would have never said something like that or treated me that way! All of you are the ones who should leave!”
N’Jadaka moves to step forward, but James puts his hidden vibranium arm in front of him and says only one thing in a harsh warning tone. “Erik...” Causing Erik to suck on his teeth for a second then back down. While T’Challa steps forward with his hands up in the universal sign of peace. “Miss...” Caroline huffs out her answer to his silent question, “Caroline Forbes!” He immediately gives a soft smile, “Miss Forbes, I believe all of us need to leave Bonnie alone for the time being. If it makes you feel better we will get into our car first, but we will only be leaving after you drive away. She is important to our people and I will not risk something happening.” Caroline works her jaw as the gogs in her brain slowly turn, her eyes sharpen for a few seconds, but she quickly gives in and slowly, dejectedly nods.
None of them notice the whispers on the wind that one small young Bennett witch listens too as they all drive away, with a contemplating look in her eyes.
————
The next day has Bonnie working in the backyard harvesting the herbs, vegetables, and fruits that she needs. Bonnie gives absolutely no reaction to N’Jadaka’s presence as he walks around the back of the house. “You know it’s seen as extremely rude to not only invite yourself to someone’s house, especially not knocking on the front door.” She has to hide her slight smile upon hearing him huff out a laugh, “I’d love to knock on your front door kitten, the only problem is... I couldn’t seem to get on the first step.” Bonnie can sense the question in his words, but chooses to ignore it and continue her work. She can feel him watching her and gets quickly fed up witch a harsh huff Bonnie stops what she is doing, stands up, and turns to face him.
She has to give herself a few seconds to get accustomed to the height difference between the two of them, to put it simply... he dwarfs her. Not only in height, but in sheer muscle mass, she averts her eyes to try and hide the affect he’s having on her. Bonnie decides to chalk it up to the fact that she hasn’t had any direct human contact for a while. “Look N’Jadaka...” “Erik” His interruption causes her to blink, “What?” Erik let’s out a quiet huff while a smirk plays along his lips. “My colonizer name kitten, is Erik. I’d rather go by it than N’Jadaka... has a lot more pride in it than my other name does.”
Bonnie quietly mouths colonizer with a confused look, but decides that they can come back to that later. “Fine! Erik... just...” Bonnie let’s out breath and frowns as her eyes play across the plains of his face and the outdoors. “I don’t know why... but my ancestors like you and they say that I can trust you. Now I’m going to do something that I never do... I’m going to trust my ancestors.” She allows herself to walk up to him and look him directly in the eyes “and if you ever... and I mean ever break that trust. I will personally find a way to kill you, slowly, painfully, and only when your begging for mercy will I kill you... got it?” While she was talking her finger was poking him in the chest to help emphasize her words with a sickly sweet smile upon her face.
Erik gives a slow smile knowing that he shouldn’t find himself turned on by her threat, but he is. He allows himself to carefully grab the hand she was poking him with and holds onto it. Erik chooses to ignore the quiet gasp that escapes her lips... for the moment “You got it kitten, would you like me to explain what you were very unwilling to talk about yesterday with my cousin?” He watches completely fascinated as her eyelashes shadow her eyes while she thinks it over, when she looks up and focuses back on him, she gives a hesitant nod. “Okay, but your helping me with my garden... if we have to talk about something that I would rather never have to think about again, your going to be useful and help.” Her words pull a sharp laugh out of Erik, as he grins and gives a nod in acceptance.
Once she quickly shows him what do to and what to look for, they start working. As they work he explains everything to her, everything hidden from her, everything that her father has done... everything. It completely shatters her, it obliterates everything she thought she knew about her father and his side of the family, everything she thought she knew and understood about herself; it sends her completely into orbit. She doesn’t even realize that she is crying, nor does she realize that she is raging at Erik and upon his body. Her fists swinging to hit his chest as her magic angrily swirls around them. Bonnie feels as though she is shattered into a trillion shimmering atoms being carried away upon the wind. She can’t tell if she will ever find herself... how can she? Bonnie doesn’t think that she can gather the exploded pieces... how can she find them? They have scattered to the wind getting caught in the trees, falling to the streams of water to be carried and caught elsewhere. Bonnie can’t even feel Erik tightly holding her as he somehow carries her inside of her grans house. And eventually, much later into the night, he helps to pull her back together, but for now. He try’s to help hold together what little is left of Bonnie Shelia Bennett.
As her true name echoes through her entire being...
Ahnika...
————————————————————
I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. The second part is on its way! Peace, love, and joy!
27 notes · View notes
chaosciara · 4 years ago
Text
where the arch meets
I have not read King of Scars so I do not know anything about the plot therefore some information about Nikolai could be outdated. This is also the first time I've ever written for this fandom so hopefully I did the characters justice. My friend and I watched S&B and were talking about ships and I said I wanted to see Kaz and Nikolai together which then prompted whatever the hell happened here, please enjoy!
CW: mentions of blood, mentions of gambling
There are no spoilers for the S&B show
masterlist; my links
[image has alt text]
Tumblr media
Kaz stares out the window, a glum look on his usually stoic face. Ketterdam was alive, unusual joy spinning itself in the streets as the city busies itself for the arrival of the one and only King Nikolai Lantsov. The festivities of the "Peacekeeper" as he had been so lovingly named, had started three long days ago. Every day that Kaz wakes up to popping streamers, and the litany of ballads associated with the King's ever growing list accomplishments, is a day his stolen peace gets ripped from beneath him. He's not even sure why the King is so popular. He can't say he was anywhere near impressed enough at their brief meeting to warrant the five different ballads about those hazel eyes alone. Kaz looks down at the papers littering his desk, crow club books and bank statements for his various 'assets', communications between the various councils in Ravka and Ketterdam, and the most recent letter from Inej, smelling of the sea.
Their friendship is something of a mystery to the world but between them she is the rock that kept him steady. Even now, with her sailing the high seas content to her freedom, he can feel the unwavering quiet of her. Briefly, he wishes she were here. She would make him laugh, tell him to stop being so glum about the brown-eyed, blonde haired king if he insisted on doing nothing about it. He wouldn't let his amusement at her teasing show, but later in the safety of his room, this room, he'd let a rare smile show. He misses their quiet friendship most of all. But she is happy on her ship with her crew and he has shit to do. He always has shit to do.
The thought, stark and unwelcome, snaps him back to the present. A scowl replaces his faraway look as he shuts the window to the new round of baudy tunes drifting up and straight into the headache knocking at his skull. He sits back down harder than he intended, and winces at the pain that lances down his back and into his leg. He can hear Nina, chastising him for not putting on the salve, for not resting. But he doesn't have the time. He can't do something as normal as rest. He has a city to run. Or at least the underbelly of a city to run.
The statements stare at him but the numbers swirl like melting ice-cream in a bowl, and he wants to throw the pages in the fire in frustration. But he has never acted on emotion, and he will not start now. So he pushes away from his desk, cane already cool under his fingertips, and makes his way to the floors of the crow club.
The passage muffles the sounds of chips cluttering on a table, and glasses set down hard on the wood, and shouting when someone wins, loses, almost gets decked for supposed cheating. But as soon as he steps past the doors, nodding at the two guards he'd posted at this entrance, all of that chaos surrounds him. There is no hush as he steps into the room, no blanket of fear or anger or anything. They don't even know he is there. They won't until he makes himself known. Spending years with his Wraith had taught him some things, even with the click of his cane. He looks to the corner expecting to spot Jesper; his heart, as it had done every day since they had all parted ways, clenched upon seeing the empty space where his sharpshooter was supposed to be. The disappointment doesn't stop his eyes from travelling to the table closest to the kitchens— or as the Nina lovingly called it, the muck hut— where Wylan was usually hunched over notebooks or losing to just about everyone, except maybe Inej, in a game of cards.
He misses them. He'd never tell them, would never let it so much as flash across his face, but he couldn't stop his heart from the same onslaught. He felt it every day. Every time he looked to his window and Inej wasn't perched atop it. Every time he walked to the gambling tables and Jesper wasn't leaning over it, brown eyes shining with hope. Every time he wandered the corridors of the club hearing Wylan's flute. When he decides to put salve on it's because he hears Nina's voice, sees her frown, as she tries so hard to heal them. He even misses Matthias but that is a road he doesn't allow himself to go down. A failure he cannot yet acknowledge. His trip down memory lane ends abruptly when a man with a hood over his eyes, shadowing his face, steps up to him.
"You Kaz, Kaz Brekker?" The voice is rough, almost too rough, but the lilting accent is familiar. Before he can place it the man is talking again.
"I want to speak with you, about a deal."
Kaz tilts his head, resting gloved hands on his cane as he takes the figure in. "Liar."
The man sputters jerking back, and just briefly he catches a glimpse of golden skin and something shiny pinned to his coat. "It's urgent!" The man's voice is not so rough, and that accent, charming in a way, bleeds through more and more.
"I'm not available for deals." It is not true, but he wants to see how they'll react, what they're capable of if he says no.
"You'll like this one." The roughness has been replaced by arrogance. And the world opens wide for Kaz.
"Come," He turns, already limping towards the doors and his rooms beyond. "Don't say anything until we're behind closed doors"
It takes them exactly one minute and twelve seconds to get to his study. As soon as he hears the door click behind him, he lifts his cane and with brutal precision he rips through the clasp at the man's chest and watches the coat land in a heap on his wooden floor. Letting the crows head of his cane fall back into his hand he finally looks up. "What are you doing here King?" The question holds more exhaustion than he's willing to admit.
"What?" The King of Ravka grins, beautiful and bright and full of arrogance, "You aren't happy to see me?"
And Kaz wants to tell him no and piss off and leave me alone, but his heart is pounding and there is blood rushing between his ears and he doesn't really remember what breathing does, how it works. Because this is the first time he's ever seen Nikolai. When they met all those years ago he was Sturmhond, the privateer. Since then Kaz has only seen posters, and art. But none of them, not a single one, has ever done the king justice. He is........ he is magic.
"Oh come on," The blonde is laughing. It sounds like water. It sounds like peace. "You can't expect me to act like a stranger after all the letters we've sent." Yes, the letters. The updates King Nikolai had requested about Ketterdam, about the barrel, about the illegal smuggling of grisha to work as slaves. Those letters. "What?" The King looks at him speculatively, amusement sparking in his hazel eyes— they suit him so much better than the green of Sturmhond. "Volcra got your tongue?"
“Didn't know you would be in town," Kaz manages to grind out. He hopes it sounds like irritation and not infatuation.
"The six million posters and seven ballads about my adventures aboard the Kingfisher were not notice enough?" That grin is back. It is ruining him. "Oh dear, next time I'll be sure to add floating parades to the mix."
"That's tomorrow." He glowers. He doesn't think the blonde could get anymore insufferable. He is wrong.
"Do you have plans to attend then?"
He ignores the question, the tease. "What are you doing here Lantsov?"
"I'm here for the festival Mr, Brekker."
"I mean here." He motions to the room, to him. "What are you doing in the Barrel, in my club—" He wants to say 'in my room'. He catches himself.
"I came," Nikolai steps a little closer. There's still do much distance between them, practically an ocean, but Kaz can feel the tension wrapping around his lungs. He wants out. He wants closer. He wants, he wants, he wants....... "To visit a friend Mr Brekker. I don't exchange letters detailing my failed attempt at diving through the sky with just anyone." Oh saints he's going to die. He's never going to survive this. His face is a brick wall, a crack where his frown breaks through.
"You are a busy man King, busier even, than i am." He wants to applaud himself for the steadiness of his voice. "I doubt that you had time to just pop by. So what do you want, Nikolai?"
There is a flash of something in those beautiful eyes, and he wants to chase it to the ends of the earth. "Must we always have an ulterior motive?" The voice is quiet, but it is filled with curiosity and emotions Kaz doesn't have the ability to unpack. "Is it not good enough that I wanted to see you Kaz."
The Underboss of Ketterdam becomes a rain, becomes wind, and earth, and gold. He sits down on his desk, uninterested in the groan of the wood as it tries to carry his weight. Nikolai looks at him, soft and open, all that charm hidden- packed away for a moment far removed from this one. Somehow the distance has shrunk between them until there is only two steps, maybe three before their bodies can collide. He knows Nikolai would not come closer, but some part of him wants the king to try. Wants to see what would happen. He shoves that part so far down it got to hell before him.
"Say something," The blonde whispers.
"How long till they realize you've snuck off?" The bark of laughter that escapes the king is like jurda straight into his bloodstream.
"We have an hour tops."
"Let's go." He throws a new hood, midnight blue and embellished with golden thread, at him. It's his own. He doesn't have time to find another. Nikolai puts it on, fastening the small gold clasp at his front, and Kaz has to remind himself to breathe when he sees how beautiful those colours are against that golden skin. It looks a thousand times better on Nikolai than it ever had in him.
"Where are we off to then?" The blonde asks, his familiar charm steady through his features once more. "You're not intending to kidnap me and sell me to the highest bidder are you?" Before he can even start to ignore the question Nikolai is carrying on. "I have to tell you I won't make a very high bid. I seem to have botched myself a little when I turned into one of the Darkling's little pets. I think my di—"
"Shut up will you," He snaps, black eyes scanning the club as they walk through it.
"A little tense Mr Brekker," He can hear the grin. He doesn't know whether he wants to slap it or stare at it. He keeps walking.
They're outside and it's just started to drizzle and he has the brief thought that maybe he shouldn't be making the king of Ravka gallivant in the rain. But then he catches a glimpse of Nikolai's expression, full of wonder and glinting with excitement and he can't turn back even if he wants to.
"Kaz," Saints he loves the way the blonde says his name. "I really think it's better if I know where we're going, sake of safety and all that."
"We're going to the docks."
"You're not intending to drown me, are you?" There is no concern hidden behind the question, only delighted amusement.
"If I had intended to be rid of you Nikolai," Kaz turns his head, stares at the man, "I would have done it the second you walked into my club."
"Even though you didn't know it was me?"
It's his turn to smirk, and he revels in it. "I know everyone that comes into my club, King." The title reverberates in his throat. He catches the flash in the royal's eye.
"Why are you taking us to the docks?"
"I want to show you something, privateer." The strangled noise he hears in answer makes him force down the smile threatening to erupt.
The rain is at that awkward stage where it's more than a drizzle but less than a downpour. The kind that seeps into your clothes, makes your bones wet before you can even feel it on your skin. But they're almost there, he can see their destination clear in front of him. They are quiet, a rare thing for Nikolai he thinks, as they walk. Every now and then he glances to his companion who is always staring at the world in wonder. Like every corner produces a new kind of thrill. Like he'll be able to collect them all and bottle them for his journey home.
"Why are you staring at my pretty face?" The subject of his hidden amazement asks. "You've never been one to appreciate beauty Mr Brekker. If you did you'd have commented on my lovely violet wax seals at least once." He fights the urge to roll his eyes at that. The wax seals were the least interesting thing about the letters. He usually ripped them open like a mad man, clawing for the content inside and reading it as if it were going to disappear before he could get to the, 'fondly, Nikolai Lantsov' at the end.
"I have more interest in the contents inside."
At that the King does roll his eyes, "Oh yes, the ever so interesting reports about dock lookouts and safe grisha arrivals."
"It's my business."
"Mhm" Is all the blonde has to say.
They step onto the docks, and the tap of his cane, louder, more prominent on the wood, rings slightly in his ears. It's a comforting sound. One he has come to rely on to keep him steady. Especially when there's a king walking in stride with him, a king who kind of looks like the sun just before it disappears over the horizon. A king who scents his letters with lavender because he wants people to know calmness. A king who has never touched him but always stands close enough that he can feel the heat of him.
He recognizes the marker that tells him they're in the right place and then he motions for Nikolai to stay behind him. "Its small so we'll have to be close together." He says quietly.
"Are you okay with that?" The question is so gentle, so full of worry it almost buckles his knees.
"I'll manage."
"Kaz," He sounds hesitant, he sounds worried. "You don't have to force yourself to do something for me."
"I'm not, now come on before it disappears." And then they're stepping into an alcove only slightly bigger than a coffin and they're so close and there's so little air. But still Nikolai is not touching him and the leather of Kaz's gloves is warm against his skin. There is no part if him exposed to the elements, except his face. He takes one breath, takes two. The king is looking at him with concern, it is swimming in his features.
"Look up." Together they tilt their heads, and as the weak sunlight, bogged by rain, sinks to the floor the gems buried in the stones of the roof above them come ablaze. Crimson reds, and sapphire blues, and forest greens, and golden yellows. The light fractures and morphs and dances around them, like coloured stars.
He had discovered this wonder in a burning rage, trailing blood down the docks. He'd beaten up a man who betrayed their gang- dirty work for the boss- but half way down the docks he'd thought he was being followed and he slipped into this little alcove. He comes back every chance he gets.
"This is—" For once King Nikolai Lantsov is speechless. "How did you even find such a thing?" The hood had fallen off his head when he looked up so every angle of his face is on sharp display. The miserable lighting only made him more golden as if he was defying the weather simply by existing. And the gemstones reflected in his eyes, turning them every shade of rare rainbow. One of three Kaz had ever seen in Ketterdam.
He just raises a brow. "We should be getting back, I'm sure they've already sounded the alarm."
The blonde snorts, "They're used to it by now."
"Oh you sneak off to visit all your friends?" They step out carefully, making sure not to disturb the structure or get caught in the act.
"Feeling less special?"
"Wondering if maybe you should pay your guards more."
They bicker all the way back, about everything, trading wit and meaningless insults in equal measure. Kaz insists on dropping Nikolai off at his lodgings and Nikolai insists he doesn't have to despite leading them towards the building he's staying in. When they finally arrive, it is with a sense of longing for more that settles between them. More time, more laughter, more traded quips, just more.
"Goodbye Mr Brekker." The King bows his head.
"Nikolai." He nods.
"Come visit me in Ravka soon." It's the line he prints in every letter, no matter how far apart their replies are, or how many other things they have going on. Kaz never acknowledges it. He won't put that kind of hope into them. He must stay here. He must work.
But today, with happiness bubbling under his skin, he cant help but let loose a small smile and a dangerous promise. "I'll try."
And fading under the bustle of people is a small golden plaque on the floor of the alcove. "To those we love, and love unconditionally." A bigger promise, one that has lasted through time itself.
"That's all we can do Kaz," Nikolai smiles. "We try."
22 notes · View notes
blackjack-15 · 4 years ago
Text
Are You Poe-ndering What I’m Poe-ndering? — Thoughts on: Warnings at Waverly Academy (WAC)
Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN
Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.
Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.
If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas (or not links, as tumblr is freaking out with links).
These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: WAC, mention of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (the OG live-action show not the horrible CW monstrosity); discussion of the Poe short stories “The Imp of the Perverse” and “The Black Cat”.
The Intro:
It’s time to go to school, y’all — and not just any school; a rich, elite, all-girls school. Welcome to the jungle.
Warnings at Waverly Academy is one of two games that I don’t sort into a category (like “Expanded” “Jetsetting” or “Odd”), the other being the game that follows it (TOT). There are a few reasons for this — the next category really doesn’t apply, but neither does the previous category, WAC and TOT both feature a gradual shift in tone and approach to the games, etc. If I really had to pick a designation, I’d say that these are the “Growing Pains” games, where the world gets a little bit more open — but not all at once, the characters get a little more fleshed out — but not by much, and a few new things are tried with our character rolls — to varying degrees of success.
On the whole, WAC tackles its efforts far better than TOT does, but it does make for a slightly less interesting meta if one was just to focus on what WAC does wrong and what it does right. Instead, we’re going to take a look at how brilliant WAC is tonally and thematically, and how its source material — not kept secret in the game — builds it up and makes it better and better upon replays.
Before I begin, it’s fair to warn you all that my thesis was done on Poe and adaptation theory (and its relevance towards detective novels but I won’t touch much on that part of it), so I might get a bit nerdy. Hopefully it’s still exciting and relatable enough to the game that it’ll make for interesting, rather than academic, reading.
WAC uses Poe’s stories — specifically “The Black Cat” (obviously) and “The Imp of the Perverse” (in my slightly expert opinion) — as thematic (what the game means) and tonal (how the game feels) touchstones, not to mention their inclusion for some of the events in the plot. A brief summary of both is probably important when looking at how they relate to WAC.
“The Imp of the Perverse” is an essay-like short story by Poe that basically states that inside of every person is the desire to do something wrong or incorrect simply because it is wrong or incorrect (not morally, but in terms of self-interest).
In the story, a man commits a clever murder and gets away with it, receiving the inheritance that he wanted from the dead man. The man cannot be caught — there is no evidence of any wrongdoing, let alone any that points to him — unless he confesses. The idea of confessing — not out of guilt, but just because it would be the wrong thing to do — plays on his mind until, driven half-mad with his preoccupation, he confesses and is imprisoned and executed. The titular “imp” is basically a devil on the shoulder who wants what would be worst for our own self-interest, simply because it is the worst.
MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY FOR THE STORY OF THE BLACK CAT. PLEASE SKIP IF THIS BOTHERS YOU.
“The Black Cat” on the other hand is pretty much a proto-“Tell-Tale Heart” — an alcoholic man becomes emotionally distant from his cat (a rare sentence, I know) because he things the cat is judging him for being a drunk; one night in a drunken rage, he cuts out its eye and kills it. A fire catches his home, leaving an imprint of the hanged cat upon the only standing wall.
END OF DIRECT MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY.
The man and his wife move, and he, after a period of guilt, makes friends with another cat — a cat nigh-identical to the first one, even missing an eye. When he (drunk, as per usual) and his wife are walking down the cellar stairs, however, he nearly trips over the cat and becomes enraged, trying to kill the cat, only to be stopped by his wife. He instead kills his wife, burying her behind the wall of the cellar and bricking up the hole.
When the police come by they find nothing, and the cat has disappeared, so the man feels safe. The police come back to investigate the cellar, the man taps on the wall to boast of how well the house is made — only to have horrific screeching start up behind the wall. The police break the wall down and find not only his wife’s body, but the black cat sitting on it as well. The man breaks down, overwhelmed by his own guilt, and the story ends.
END OF BLACK CAT STORY SYNOPSIS.
It’s pretty clear what influence “The Black Cat” had on WAC — not only does the villain name herself after the titular cat, but WAC is also a story of guilt, hidden crimes, and personal weaknesses that manifest in rage towards other innocents.
It’s actually really interesting that Corine takes the mantle of “The Black Cat” up when she begins targeting other valedictorian candidates; the black cat in the story is sort of a symbol of the man’s sin — a reaction to his sins and misdeeds, and sort of a catalyst of justice. This ties into how Corine sees herself — someone rejected and mistreated by those who are “filthy” themselves, and who must then show others the things they hate about themselves.
It’s Corine’s self-identification as a victim that starts all this, and it causes her to victimize others in potentially fatal ways. The black cat stands for guilt, for the sins of others, and yet it leads Corine further and further away from any justness herself.
The story of “The Imp of the Perverse” has a little bit of a more subtle tie-in to the game; in a way, each suspect does exactly what they know they shouldn’t.
Rachel and Kim are obvious — they really shouldn’t switch back and forth so regularly, nor should they be so sloppy at informing the other as to what they did and who they met that day. Leela, who should be studying if she wants to keep her spot in the race, instead passes the time by playing sports. Mel knows that the cloak-and-dagger meetings are to be an absolute secret, yet wears hair bows that she constantly loses to one. Izzy has her future meticulously planned out, yet refuses to back up an incredibly important paper (and also relies on being popular, yet pursues other girls’ boyfriends).
Even Corine falls under this; by targeting Nancy, she’s ensuring that suspicion will fall on her, as 2/3rds of the victims would then be her roommates. She’s also cutting her chances of being valedictorian by not working hard for it and instead relying on other, riskier methods. Every move she makes leads to it being more and more obvious that she’s behind them — and yet, she continues anyway, just like the man in “The Imp of the Perverse” — leading from a few small incidents to attempted murder.
Ignoring WAC’s ties to Poe renders it as a good, solid mystery without anything remarkable about it (other than the pendulum, of course). Exploring its ties to Poe not only helps set up exactly who the villain is, but also sets the tone for the mystery. This isn’t a mystery of Nancy foiling a villain through her smarts; instead, it’s a story about how guilt and a perverse desire for self-destruction leads a once-promising valedictorian candidate to more and more severe crimes, culminating in the exact opposite of what she was working for.
The Title:
It’s pretty awesome, full stop.
Warnings at Waverly Academy is honestly a great title for a Nancy Drew mystery; it gives us location, a sense of the world we’re in (scholastic), and a vague yet not too vague sense of what’s going on. The alliteration is good, the abbreviation amuses me — it’s just solid all the way around.
There’s not much else to say; sure, you could strengthen it by finding a punchier “w” word to begin with, but that’s just quibbling. It’s great, I love it, let’s move on to the Happenings at Waverly Academy (which, by the way, would have been a terrible name for the game).
The Mystery:
Called in as a professional undercover detective, Nancy’s just young enough to hide in plain sight at Waverly Academy, an upper-crust private school for those girls fortunate enough to be both rich and smart (aside from a few scholarship students, who are simply smart). Nancy’s called in due to a few near-death experiences by students, punctuated always by notes simply signed “The Black Cat”. It’s only a few days until break ends, so Nancy must work quickly to stop the sabotage, find the Black Cat, and solve the mystery before anyone dies.
Nancy, as always, finds quickly that not everything is so cut-and-dried. Each valedictorian candidate has the motive, means, and opportunity to get the other girls out of their way, and all have something to lose. Add in a secret society, the threat of demerits from an overly zealous RA, and the sneaking feeling that there might be a greater mystery behind all of these incidents, and you get a case mostly unlike any that Nancy’s had to crack before.
Oh, and Ned is on the phone, serving the player up with the single punch of testosterone in the game (aside from the hunky Mr. Harris, of course).
As a mystery, WAC is honestly super solid. Lots of characters, lots of clues, lots of red herrings, lots of mini-mysteries going on inside of the larger mystery…it’s everything you want from a Nancy Drew game, and it doesn’t really drop any of the balls it juggles. Sure, the pendulum might be a bit much for you if you’re not up on your Poe, but I think it’s a lot of fun, and for sure a very different type of ending puzzle — not drowning or running out of air or any other ending that Nancy Drew games likes to do.
Let’s go to the movers and shakers behind this mystery, then, shall we?
The Suspects:
Mel Corbalis is the fan-favorite character, so let’s start with her in this huge, estrogen-laden cast. Distinctly of the goth persuasion, Mel is a fantastically talented cello player and a Waverly Legacy, despite the fact that no one at school wants to be caught dead near her. She’s not an outcast the way that Corine is, however, because of her simple insistence on being exactly who she is, and not trying to hide or apologize for it.
Go Mel.
As a suspect, Mel is slightly more suspicious than most other girls, on account of Megan being her roommate, but otherwise sits on fairly equal standing with them all. She’s by far the most outwardly aggressive, but also comes across as simply no-nonsense (a welcome thing in any girl’s academy, believe me). She also has the least of Poe about her, despite her taste in fashion, and is in general a breath of fresh wind.
Next up is Leela Yadav, athlete extraordinaire. She sure can bounce that ball, at least. Izzy’s roommate and just as much a social climber (though in less in-your-face ways), Leela wants it all — popular, athletic, and valedictorian. It’s a lot for any girl to handle, much less one who can’t seem to keep it all together.
As a suspect, Leela’s not bad — she’s as even as (most) anyone else throughout the first half of the game, but falls off a bit when Izzy isn’t specifically targeted by the Black Cat (as most of her gripes are against Izzy, particularly). Leela’s more there to increase the number of students and throw suspicion around, but she does a darn fine job of it, and is well-rounded enough to be genuinely enjoyable.
We’d be remiss not to mention the queen bee (and my personal favorite suspect) at Waverly Academy, Izzy Romero. Snobbish, arrogant, and with apparently the smarts and people skills to back it up, Izzy is the first Waverly girl that Nancy (as Becca) meets, and boy does she set the player up for what Waverly is really like. Izzy’s smart enough to know when she should put in the effort and clever enough to delegate it when she can, and that alone endears her to me, even leaving aside her hilarious dialogue and general vibes.
As a suspect, Izzy is the sole girl who really isn’t set up to be much other than what she is — a girl with more than enough smarts to get power, and enough power to pretty much do what she wants to do. Sure, Nancy can catch Izzy doing stuff she shouldn’t do, but she’s never really a heavy-hitter when it comes to the Black Cat stuff. I love her for that, too. She’s a lot like Libby from the original Sabrina the Teenage Witch show; a bit nasty, but hilarious and effectively harmless — and I’ve always liked Libby-style characters.
And her stint in the Blackwood Society is aces too. Man, this girl does not quit.
Rachel Hubbard, is, of course, actually Rachel and Kim Hubbard, and they are the plot point that WAC is most known for. They actually have marginally separate personalities too, with one being far snappier than the other, and having strengths in different subjects.
Part of the reason I love the Hubbard twins so much is that their presence is so...Poeian. Poe was all about duplicity and mirrors, and the Hubbard twins show off both themes. It’s just a wonderful little bit of a nod to the source material (thematically speaking) of the game, and I adore it.
As suspects, the Hubbards aren’t bad at all; they’re lying, sneaking around, and blatantly “forget” what they’ve said to people, all of which adds up to be very untrustworthy. Were it not for Nancy (and Corine) sneaking around, they might have gotten through their Waverly experience without anyone figuring it out — and that’s something to respect, even if it does make them prime targets for blackmail. And speaking of blackmail…
Corine Meyers is both Nancy’s roommate and 100% our villain this time around. Obsessed with becoming valedictorian and knowing she probably won’t get it, Corine basically puts out self-assigned hits on each of her fellow candidates, attempting to get the title by violence rather than by being worthy. She’s even cunning enough to blackmail the Hubbard twins into doing some of her dirty work, throwing people off her scent. Sure, Corine is a rather pathetic (in the non-sympathetic sense) person who I have little respect for, but she does make a good villain in a Poe-ish story.
As a suspect, the game actually makes a pretty good go at not assigning the blame too quickly to anyone, so Corine does manage to hide out in the shadows. Sure, one of the girls who went home was her roommate, but the other was Mel’s, so suspicion isn’t centered right on her. I also love that she’s actually punished for what she does — no amount of sad pictures at the end of the game changes that. Corine actually has the cleverness that CUR tries (but doesn’t succeed) to give Jane, and I think it’s wonderful.
I’m not going to give Megan Vargas or Danielle Hayes their individual chunks, but they are present here as well, standing in as victims so we know that this teenaged effery very nearly had a body count. They really help to give a sense of…well, purposeful disconnection to the game, where the setting and the snow and the fact that these are high school girls doesn’t stop the crimes from being deadly.
The Favorite:
The first thing that I have to say is that I love how the tone and crimes of this game contrast so well with a lot of the games (especially, sorry, CUR). This takes place at a school, your suspects are all teenaged girls…and yet the game doesn’t shy away from how horrific things really are to get Nancy called in. Two girls have nearly died in quick succession from one another, and the girls are going on chasing acclaim. It’s a messed up situation, and the game doesn’t shy away from pointing that out.
These crimes are treated with severity, and the culprit, despite things that might have softened her ending under lesser writers, is punished with total removal. WAC in some ways is a spiritual successor to SCK, in that it takes place at a school, lives are endangered, Nancy is (mostly) undercover, and the culprit is not above killing Nancy messily solely for personal gain. The difference, of course, is that SCK is not done well, and WAC, on the whole, is.
As mentioned above, I have a soft spot for Poeian detective stories, and so I enjoy WAC probably more than I would had they modeled it after, say, Holmesian detective stories instead. The ideas of duplicity, mirrors, guilt, the Imp of the Perverse — the self-destructive tendency to do what we should not simply because we should not do it — these are all present and accounted for in WAC from different girls and facets of the plot (Corine and the secret society both represent duplicity, the Hubbard girls are mirrors, Waverly’s own guilt towards the students it failed, etc.).
My favorite puzzle has to be WAC’s resident cooking minigame, where Nancy prepares hot lettuce sandwiches and definitely underdone cookies to the delight of the gossiping horde. It’s like TRN’s cheeseburger minigame writ large, and every second of it is wonderful — the gossip, the food-making, the unexpected panic of a teacher order — everything. It also helps Nancy keep her head above water, should she be caught sneaking around after hours, and I think that’s great as well.
My favorite moment of the game is when Nancy comes out of the wall in Mel’s room and Mel isn’t having even one iota of her excuses to cut and run. It’s not often that a non-villain will press Nancy so intently when Nancy does something Inherently Untrustworthy, and I think it’s great that a 17 year old girl behaves exactly as one would, demanding an explanation and not letting Nancy wiggle her way out of it. Sheer perfection and the moment, I would guess, that Mel became a lot of people’s favorite WAC character.
I also love everything to do with the Blackwood Society. Nancy goes so…metal there and we really don’t get enough of Metal Nancy. It features one of the few moments of absolutely, unequivocally brilliant voice acting that Lani stumbles upon (the conversation about the bow), and it’s a wonder to behold.
The Un-Favorite:
While WAC certainly has great things about it, it’s not by any means a perfect game. It wouldn’t sit in my top 10, and possibly not even in my top 15, though it would depend on the day. The reasons for this?
A big one is my least favorite puzzle: taking the pictures. It’s a good idea — a gofer quest to help Nancy get to meet each student, talk to them, etc. and make sure no one gets lost in the shuffle (like with what usually happens with Guadalupe in ICE, for example) — and is also great for acquainting Nancy with the Hubbard(s). However, in practice, the interface makes it incredibly obnoxious to do, what with having to retake pictures because the pan or zoom is slightly off, and having to jump around from place to place. It’s a good idea, but could have been implemented far, far more smoothly than it actually was.
My least favorite moment in the game is actually the whole deal with Izzy’s paper being deleted. It’s a dick move — and I have no problem with that, honestly, but the fact that she has no backup is just like…girl, what on earth are you doing where you don’t back up your work.
Adding to that is the fact that even in the far-off yesteryear of 2009, Word autosaves (as did many, if not all, word processors) and a copy definitely would have still been retrievable on her computer, and that the teacher would almost definitely have a previous rough draft or at least outline…it’s a pretty shaky thing to have happen (the not-having, not the deleting), and it does break the game down a bit. I know it’s not that big a deal to most people, but it seriously hampers my ability to stay within the world of WAC and to take the mystery seriously.
The Fix:
So how would I fix Warnings at Waverly Academy?
There’s honestly not too much to do; while not a perfect game, WAC is perfectly solid, accomplishing what it needs to do properly and well, without too many little flaws to mar its reputation.
In other words, it’s a bit like an unsuccessful valedictorian candidate; well-rounded, but not a standout when compared to others that burn a little brighter.
I would, however, re-work the picture task; I’m not sure how you could make it less clunky, mechanically speaking, but it definitely needs it, along with a way to know if it’s a good picture or not before you go through all the effort of going to the library and plugging in the camera. I love the idea — just make the idea work better.
I’d also change the “deleted paper” storyline and go a little more destructive — give the computer an awful virus instead. Sure, her paper is backed up (in 2009, probably on a USB drive, or saved to her email or something), and she has her stuff, but that locks away all personalized notes, study sheets, etc. It’s something that would be pretty damning for a Valedictorian candidate, while also still being firmly in the realm of believability.
And on a smaller note, remove the ability to call Bess in this game. It always goes to voicemail and serves no purpose. Why even include it?
Where WAC really shines is its individualistic approach to each girl and in its permeation of Poeian themes; that’s what makes it special as a game, rather than any of its individual parts. Sometimes, you need to take a break from haunted mansions and carousels and museum thefts and marriage troubles and friends who are always in need of help – and you just need to play a game with gossip galore, hot lettuce bagels, and an actual death-bringing pendulum to round it out.
31 notes · View notes
serialreblogger · 4 years ago
Text
Tagging Game
thank you for the tag @theproblemwithstardust!
rules: tag 10 people you think would like to be tagged, and copy/paste the asks into a new post. Answer all/as many of them as you want!
1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? bold of you provide such a boring binary. i prefer green
2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? again: no. give me Forest or give me death
3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? FLIGHT
4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? so MUCH. i have to add half of it at the hot water station at work and half at my desk so my coworkers don’t catch on that i’m a hummingbird in human form
5. what was your favorite book as a child? one??? well i loved The Girl Who Could Fly by Victoria Forester. When i was little i read pretty much whatever i could get my hands on tho, most of which were really old and British for some reason? which is why i now talk like a horrific combination of “abominable tumblrite” and “Victorian aristocrat”
6. do you prefer baths or showers? BATHS but only if i can play music to drown out the sound of my ears ringing
7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? i WOULD be a dryad, but if i could choose i’d be a shapeshifter (capable of transforming into anything and everything)
8. paper or electronic books? i hoard books like a dragon hoards gold, but like. electronic books are also valid (no no look i’m not elitist, some of my best friends are fanfics)
9. what is your favorite item of clothing? i have a sky blue dress shirt that is the perfect fabric and colour and shape and i love it so much
10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? my Name is Linden, and i love it. my legal name is distressingly ugly and i hate it
11. who is a mentor to you? dang, friend, i don’t think i trust any adults enough for them to count
12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? i would like to be famous for writing excellent, world-changing fantasy fiction. it will have actual representation and will be so popular that no one will remember the name of that other british writer, she who must not be named
13. are you a restless sleeper? ehh i don’t have insomnia but like. i don’t -enjoy- sleeping
14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? nah fam i’m MUCH to screwed up for that. i like romance well enough but i’m awkward as heck, doubly so with romance. sorry Cris, i love you
15. which element best represents you? aether! i am Edgy
16. who do you want to be closer to? some of my irl friends, i guess, bc i’m real bad at relationship maintenance sometimes
17. do you miss someone at the moment? i miss my girlfriend!
18. tell us about an early childhood memory. my childhood had happy parts but i mostly remember all that trauma, so imma give y’all a pass on that one
19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? honestly, probably calamari. i’m not an adventurous eater. but i do like me some nice rubbery squid
20. what are you most thankful for? i just got a job, which means i can (hopefully) move out in the next little bit!
21. do you like spicy food? NO i do NOT enjoy the feeling of flame inside my mouth, i am TOO WHITE for that
22. have you ever met someone famous? Ryan Reynold’s brother’s cousin or something works at our local Costco, does that count?
23. do you keep a diary or journal? it’s called a “tumblr blog”
24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? pencil!
25. what is your star sign? i like 🌠
26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? unpopular opinion but soggy cereal is better
27. what would you want your legacy to be? i want something i do to have a real, significant, important impact on the justice of this awful world. i want my life to make it easier for the kids who come after me to live theirs
28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read? i LOVE reading but these days it’s only fanfiction. Do you accept The Reverb in These Holy Halls by @wolftraps? I hope so because it well surpasses most fiction for thematic complexity and superb characterization, do recommend
29. what are you afraid of? literally everything
30. what is your favorite scent? i don’t really like scents, but i love the smell of my girlfriend’s house
31. do you address older people by their name or surname? i prefer to simply Not address them (because i want to call them by their surname but at this point i’m also an adult and that’s apparently weird)
32. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? i would MOVE OUT. then take a part-time desk job and spend the rest of my time growing succulents and writing stories
33. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? mmm also no
34. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? honestly i’d probably ask the nearest person if it was theirs, and they would say yes even though it wasn’t and i wouldn’t clue in until i was halfway down the block
35. if you were to get a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? i GENUINELY don’t trust myself enough to get a tattoo. i’m not permanent enough for that. but if i had to i’d probably pick a little, colourful, very pretty tree design and put it on my ankle or the inside of my wrist
36. what can you hear now? Welcome To The Black Parade by MCR
37. where do you feel the safest? lol imagine feeling safe
38. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? look if i existed at any point prior to today i would, 100% without doubt, be dead by now. that said the 1920s had some sweet hair jewelry
39. what is your most used emoji? 😊
40. describe yourself using one word. contradictory
41. what do you regret the most? who i used to think i was. the person i tried to be
42. last movie you saw? The Meg (hey, it has a surprisingly good romance subplot. i was actually mildly invested, A+ for a canon m/f ship in a dumb action movie. Also it has Attractive Bruce Willis in it, so bonus points)
43. last tv show you watched? i think it was Community
44. invent a word and its meaning: Hieuule is from my current wip. It means “treasure/wealth of spirit”
ok imma tag @onionwithanxiety, @existentialcrisisetcetera, @hitsuaya, @imthesheikofaraby, @elmofongo, @oliver-in-retrograde, @thenorsiest, @lunarmultishine, @marshmallow-fluffy and @affzinho! I’d love to see y’all’s responses (but please don’t feel pressured, of course) and anyone else who wants to do this, consider yourselves tagged by yours truly!!
11 notes · View notes
somuchbetterthanthat · 5 years ago
Note
3, Timmartin, please?
I’m not sure I can do Tim/Martin justice, and I guess I am fairly unable to stray too far away from martin/jon? But I hope you enjoy this little piece, i’m sorry if this isn’t what you wished for. Trigger warning for suicide talk.
“Shut up!” exclaimed Martin, suddenly. “Just, just shut up!”
Tim blinked, honestly startled out of his bad mood for a second; there was something to say about Martin of all people glaring at you angrily - or was it disappointment? It seems far more his alley. Martin got petty, and passive-agressive sometimes, but genuine anger was rare enough that Tim tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, guiltily ready to see just how far this would go.
It’d been - well it’d been a while, since anybody had bothered with anger, with him. These days, Jon tiptoed around him like a martyr - or maybe like Tim was a martyr, he couldn’t decide which one was the worst - and Basira and Melanie just carefully avoided him. Only Martin sticked around. Of course Martin sticked around, trying to be kind and cheerful, which Tim couldn’t deal with either. 
“Something you’d like to add to my monologue?” he drawled.
“You know what? Yeah!” Martin said, fists curled. “You’re just! You’re just going on and on and on about - about vengeance and hurting and how ‘nobody will miss you anyway’ and that’s - that’s wrong and stupid and you’re, you’re stupid! You’re being stupid, and if, if you’re just going to remind us all all the time that you’d rather be dead than anywhere near us then you could just shut up!”
“If i’m not being cheery enough for you, you can still go hang out with Mr Sunshine over at his office,” Tim pointed out, and then, with a perverse sense of joy at being cruel, he added: “Oh, wait, he’s not there, is he? Again.” 
“Oh for - this isn’t about Jon,” Martin exclaimed exasperatedly. 
“Suure,” Tim said, crossing his arms on his chest. “Never is, with you, or wait - yeah, it is. Jon needs that, and Jon needs this, and Jon’s away and it’s sad but, oh no, Jon’s been kidnapped, again, and we didn’t do anything about it -”
“This. isn’t. about. Jon.” Martin repeated between gritted teeth. “I’m talking to you. About you. Contrary to what seems to be the popular belief around here, my whole life does not revolve around Jonathan Sims all the time! And I would appreciate it if for once, for one small moment, you got your head out of your ass and realized that I’m trying to be there for you. ”
Tim bristled. He wished Martin would let him be; he wished - it was easier, to think that Martin was angry at him because he was turning into an asshole, rather than to admit that, maybe, he was angry because he was worried. He didn’t want Martin to worry; Martin was not made for worrying, he was made for - puppies and flowers and gentleness, and that was why his crush on Jon was infuriating, and that was why him coming to Tim, every day, trying to talk to him and make him do things and make him enjoy life - ha! what life? - was even more tiring than everything else. 
“Yeah,” he said. “You really shouldn’t bother.”
“I can’t choose that, can I?” Martin snapped. 
“Yeah, you can,” Tim said. “Look at me, cheerfully not caring! God’s sake Martin, be a little selfish, just for once. Just pretend I’m not here, go your merry way! I’m not worth the bother so just - don’t.”
“Again with the -! I can’t!” Martin said. “I can’t just ignore you! You’re here, and you’re miserable, and you’re, you’re basically planning to kill yourself! Obviously I’m not going to stop bothering -”
“Why?” Tim asked at last. “We’re barely friends, coworkers is just a fancy word to say we’re prisoners of this place together, so, why, Martin -”
“Because I love you!” Martin cut him off, as loud as a yell, and then flushed bright red immediately, his head retreating into his shoulders. “I, I mean I care about you, and you may not think we’re friends but I don’t care, I -”
His voice faltered; he looked embarassed now, and Tim slowly got over the shock of his words, heart pouding furiously in his chest. That - 
“You love Jon,” he said, after a beat. It wasn’t even to be mean. It was a fact. The Institute was evil, Jonathan Sims sucked, and Martin was in love with him. 
“I told you, this isn’t about Jon,” Martin muttered. “And, and so what? It doesn’t - i mean that doesn’t stop me from - you just. You just keep saying, that nobody will miss you, and you’ve got your parents, and you’ve got - I know I’m not much of anything, alright? I know that. But I’m here, I would miss you. Because, because you’re great, when you’re not being an arse, and. And I love you! I love you. There.”
He raised defiant eyes towards Tim, and Tim’s flickered to the door before coming back to him. He studied Martin for a while and didn’t know when he started moving towards him, or when he put his hands on Martin’s collar. But he watched Martin’s eyes flutter with shock and hesitation, and he heard him say, more softly, maybe even hopefully “Tim?”
And when he kissed him, he tried to be as soft as he could, because Martin - Martin deserved puppies and flowers and gentleness. Martin gasped into his mouth, and leant further, eager, and Tim indulged him as much as he was indulging himself; how long has it been? he thought. How long since he had kissed anyone? Tim loved kissing. And passed the first beat of surprise, Martin was pretty good at it, too; his hands came to rest gently on Tim’s hips, and Tim’s fingers moved to pass through Martin’s hair. Martin shuddered against him, and Tim felt like crying, hollow and complete all at once. 
He moved away with one last peck, hand lingering on Martin’s cheek.
“You’re too good,” he said at last, low but as kind as he could manage. “You’re a better person that I’ll ever be, Martin. You deserve better. You deserve better than me, and you deserve better than him.”
“Tim,” Martin said, his voice too soft and pleading. 
“Thank you,” Tim said. “For caring enough to be angry.”
“Tim, wait -”
Tim turned around and left the room without looking at him. He gave Jon a levelled look in the corridor. 
“Thought you weren’t supposed to be in, today.”
“I -” Jon looked as hollow as Tim felt, except with more guilt. “I just - needed some more files. Before leaving.”
“Right. Well, have fun, boss.”
“Tim -”
“You should move along before Martin feels good enough to leave this room,” he said, tired more than harsh. “I don’t think he’ll want to see you right now.”
Jon looked hesitant, and a bit flushed; he opened his mouth, eyes darting towards the room, and then he sighed. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Course I am.” said Tim, and neither of them mentionned the fact they wished he wasn’t.
44 notes · View notes
365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago
Text
[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Forty-Seven: Sugar Coated ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]
If there’s one thing Sasuke can consider a pet peeve...it would be people sugarcoating things. If you’re going to tell him something, just...tell him! Don’t beat around the bush or talk in circles in an attempt to soften whatever you’re trying to say. He himself has always been rather...blunt. He’s got no time to dance your dance for the sake of niceties or social decorum. He’d much rather get to the point, and move on. Life is short, and he’s got things to do.
But not everyone feels that way.
When he met Hinata - or rather...when he met her again - he could immediately tell she was one of those people. Both because of her nature, and her upbringing. It’s not a Hyūga’s way to simply talk plainly. Oh no. They have to obfuscate and speak in circles as to avoid being too direct. To be direct is to be rude.
Too kind to simply speak her mind, too diplomatic to risk offense, and with a slight stutter that further slows her speech, Hinata takes her time with her orating. At first it threatens to bring about a kind of irritation. Is she really going to be the sort to drag out every conversation they have?
But, to Sasuke’s honest surprise...she doesn’t. The stutter is, admittedly, hard to avoid. But he can’t fault her for that. He’s certain it’s born from a meek nature...which in turn, he soon learns, was brought about by her father’s treatment of her when young. True, she’s grown a lot since then - and he’ll soon learn just how much. But a lifelong verbal tic isn’t something one can simply drop.
Look at Naruto.
One of the first times Sasuke speaks to Hinata after the war is after his brother’s revival. Given Itachi’s rather...precarious position (he’s still an S-ranked missing nin, after all), it’s been suggested that the Hyūga lend their strength and standing to the remnants of their cousin Uchiha.
In all honesty, Sasuke’s pride is...rather stung. He’s one of the two most powerful shinobi in their world. To suggest that he needs help - especially from a clan as haughty and stuck-up (in his opinion) as the Hyūga - is a major insult.
But...he’ll admit, there’s some logic to it. They’re cousin clans. And the added numbers might spare them some agony. Sure, Sasuke (and once he’s recovered, Itachi) can take care of himself just fine. But it would still be nice to avoid the little squabbles from people stupid enough to insult him to his face. Did he make mistakes? Yes. Both brothers did. But they’re also moving forward. Being stuck in the past and harassing them about something they’re making amends for is a one-way ticket to pissing him off.
Besides, Hinata’s friends with Itachi’s...well, he might as well call her wife. She was one of the medics that helped save her life after Neji’s assault back in the chūnin exams.
...weird to think back that far. It’s almost like another life.
She also helped heal her friend after Pein’s assault. Add in her hand in reviving Neji, and she’s got pretty good standing with the Hyūga. In more than one way, the main house owes her debts.
Something she hints at taking advantage of. Which...shocks Sasuke, in all honesty. She doesn’t seem the type to do that. But she also knows that the Uchiha need all the help they can get...especially with her children so young and so vulnerable.
And Sasuke will do anything to protect his brother’s son and daughter.
So...he swallows his pride, and takes up the Hyūga on their offer.
Which means speaking to Hinata.
She’s not heiress anymore - hasn’t been for a number of years by now, if he remembers right. Hanabi’s taken that mantle. But that doesn’t mean the elder sister isn’t involved in clan politics. Still trained in diplomacy, it’s she - not her precocious sibling or haughty cousin - they send to speak with him.
Wise. The former Sasuke wouldn’t be able to take seriously, heiress or not. The latter he’d almost certainly butt heads with. Neji’s too...staunch for his liking. Too far up his own ass...though he’s gotten better since they last spoke.
Dressed in her typical attire, Hinata meets Sasuke at the Hyūga compound gate. “Hello, Sasuke-kun,” is her soft greeting, given alongside a bow.
Managing a nod in return, he just replies, “Hyūga.”
“Um...given that arrangements are still being made, and official terms drafted, this isn’t an official meeting. That will have to wait until the Uchiha clan head is...is present.”
Clan head referring to Itachi. It’s a position he’d have inherited anyway, had the clan lived. And Sasuke sure as hell doesn’t want it.
“Understandable. Aniki is still recovering.”
“Yes, I...I heard. But...given that we’re going to be in talks for...quite some time, I wanted to formally introduce myself.”
“Hyūga, we were in the Academy together. I know who you are.”
Her cheeks pinken. “I - y-yes, that’s true. But...we rarely spoke, and...it’s been q-quite some time since we’ve really, um...been acquainted. I thought it would be - would be wise to have a sort of...clean slate? To start over, and build anew.”
Her nerves are starting to make his itch. All her starting and stopping, and all these...formalities. It’s such a waste of time. “Listen, Hyūga -”
“Please, call me Hinata.”
Ignoring her cut in, he goes on. “I get what this is. But you don’t have to be so...stiff. I’m not about to rip your head off. Don’t be so nervous. I’m not a crazy nukenin anymore, either.”
She jolts a hair in surprise. “I…” Her demeanor softens. “...I never thought you were...crazy.”
A brow perks, finding that hard to believe.
“Granted, we weren’t...friends. But everyone knew what happened. And that you wanted revenge. If I were in your shoes…” She trails off. “...well, I don’t know if I - if I could have gone that far. But I understand. As someone with a clan, and...knowing what I know...I think you were more than justified. Especially given the hand the village had in it…” Hinata’s head shakes somberly. “...you had e-every right to be angry, and want justice. You...you might have taken things a bit far, but...given the actions taken against your kin, it only seems fair. Because...that was too far. Far too far. It never should have happened.”
Single dark eye watching her, Sasuke...doesn’t sense any deception from her. She’s not kissing his ass. She’s just...being honest with him. “...you don’t think I’m dangerous?”
“No.” Her answer is too firm, too certain to be a lie. “...well, true, you’re very powerful. But...I don’t think you’re going to hurt anyone. Only...only if they hurt you, o-or your family, first. And in that case...I think you’d have every right. I would do the same if someone tried to harm my sister, or my cousin.” Pale eyes look up to him, and Sasuke sees a kind of...firmness that wasn’t there when he arrived.
Something about the subject has...shifted something in her. The formalities of his visit are forgotten as they discuss something else entirely. Here, and now, they’re just...people. Reminiscing over something neither of them have to be shy about.
Should be shy about.
“...well, you’re about the only one who thinks that way,” he sighs, tone a tinge bitter. Even his own teammates have been treating him like an explosive tag: just one spark from igniting. It’s...exhausting, really.
“Well...to be fair, I’ve been given perspective some people don’t have.”
“My teammates know the truth.” Sasuke’s brow hardens, and for a moment, he forgets himself and speaks a bit too openly. “...they knew before the war even started. About the council, and the coup, and the massacre. And what did they do? Not a damn thing. Still thought the best course of action was dragging me back to the place of my clan’s sanctioned genocide.”
At the blunt truth, Hinata can’t help a small flinch. “...I-I think...Naruto-kun and Sakura-chan lack a bit of...um...perspective. Sakura-chan doesn’t have a clan. Neither does Naruto-kun...he doesn’t have any family. It has to be hard to...fully comprehend. But you and I...we both come from long-standing, powerful clans. And…” She ducks her head, somber. “...while yours may be gone, you still had that world view. That...experience. As I did. While I can’t fully c-comprehend what you’ve gone through...I’m in a position very similar to what yours once was. It could have been my clan that was mistreated, a-and eliminated when we tried to stand up for ourselves. It’s...easier for me to imagine that loss, given that I have that much to lose. They...they don’t.”
...he...hasn’t thought of it that way. “...hn.”
The air suddenly tinges awkward, and Hinata goes pink again. “...I-I’m sorry, we’re...so off-topic -”
“It’s fine. You’re right. You…” A pause. “...you have the perspective few do. Between being part of a big clan, and also knowing what you know...you’re about the closest person to understanding. It’s…” Another hesitation. “...refreshing. To be understood.”
Large eyes blink, expression a bit taken aback. Then Hinata gives him a soft smile. “...I don’t want to treat you any different, Sasuke-kun. It’s clear you’ve changed. And...I hope that you’re going to get the closure you need. Something should still be done about...about those who orchestrated the massacre. Until then...you have e-every right to be wary of Konoha. But...I hope you know that the rest of us? We’re rooting for you. Even if some are...worried. I’m sure that will fade in time. We all just...need to reacquaint ourselves with each other. A lot of time has passed...and a lot has changed. That can’t be undone so quickly.”
She’s...starting to get a bit long-winded again, but he finds he doesn’t mind - she makes a lot of good points. “...I’ll try to be patient.”
“So will we. But...that’s p-part of why the Hyūga want to stand with you! To show solidarity. So...hopefully others will follow our example in welcoming you back.”
“And have less incentive to mess with us,” he adds, smirking a bit in amusement at the obvious point.
“I...y-yes,” she admits sheepishly. “N-not that many would dare, I imagine. But...yes.”
“...well, I guess this counts as an introduction?” Sasuke then offers. He’s anxious to get home and check on his brother. See his niece and nephew, too.
“Oh, y-yes! Um...well, this wasn’t exactly what I had planned,” she laughs nervously. “But, um...I suppose it did acquaint us…?”
“Yeah. Well enough. Besides, something tells me I’ll see more of you soon.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“See you around, Hyūga.”
To his surprise, she puffs a bit. “Please, call me Hinata! There’s too many Hyūga to just call me that!”
Before he can stop it, Sasuke chuckles. Rather than answer, he turns and waves.
Maybe they’ll get along better than he’d feared.
     This is...kinda random xD Wasn't really sure what to do with the prompt, and tbh not...sure I pulled off the idea I had as well as I wanted. Buuut I tried lol      Poor Hinata just wants to be polite! But Sasuke has no patience for formalites. He just wants to talk, and talk quickly. He's got better things to do than sit and blab! But it seems he doesn't mind sitting and chatting with Hinata. She just...gets him in ways others don't. So I'm sure they'll be talking a lot more ;3c      Anywho, it's past this nerd's bedtime! Thanks for reading~
12 notes · View notes
angryhausfrau-writes · 4 years ago
Text
You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 15
Charles is running out of time. He'd lunched with Grandmama at Copely Square and she had issued an ultimatum - couched though it was in the genteelest of language - over dessert. Charles must find a suitable bride lest the Emerson-Winchester fortune pass to, ugh, Cousin Alfred. Who, despite his many deficiencies of character, has both a wife and - more importantly - an heir to carry on the family name.
Charles cannot - will not - allow such an idiotic gormless cretin as Cousin Alfred to be the one responsible for carrying the Winchester name and legacy into the future. And there's no saying what his nouveau rich, money grubbing harlot of a wife would do with the family fortune, but it would doubtless be something gauche. So Charles must, for the good of the family, find a suitable bride - and soon.
Unfortunately, Charles knows just who to ask for help.
"Charles!" Pierce exclaims a little too loudly as he answers the door. And he's looking rather... rumpled. Perhaps he has company. "We weren't expecting you to drop by this afternoon."
He does have company. This was undoubtedly a mistake. But now that Charles is here, he may as well state his purpose.
"Please excuse my rudeness in dropping by unannounced, but I'm afraid I need your help." There, a bit of groveling ought to placate Pierce and hopefully help him speed whatever hussy he has over out the door.
Pierce gestures Charles inside. "Well, if that's the case, step right into my parlor..."
"Said the spider to the fly. You know you're making a devil's bargain asking Hawkeye for unspecified help."
And joy. McIntyre's home as well. At least he appears to have gotten rid of Pierce's girl already.
Pierce smiles not at all comfortingly and says, "How exactly can I help you, Charles? Surely it can't be anything of a medical nature."
"No, no, it's much worse than that." Charles slumps into an armchair. He's playing up the anguish a bit and is gratified when Pierce looks at him in genuine concern. He always was a soft touch. Hopefully it keeps him from laughing Charles out of the room at the next part. "I've been tasked with finding a suitable bride with whom to start a family. And I must be engaged before my family's summer cotillion lest I - and my entire immediate family - lose everything." Charles looks up discretely to see how Pierce and McIntyre are taking his tale of woe.
McIntyre is spluttering and choking on a mouthful of whiskey - and Charles must have missed him pouring a glass - he would have taken one himself, even if it's mid-range Irish swill. Or, more likely, it was left over from Pierce's date - Charles wouldn't be surprised at McIntyre drinking from another's glass.
Charles turns his gaze to Pierce, the man he really needs to impress the urgency of his situation upon. Pierce is just staring unblinkingly back at Charles. And he would feel rather proud of rendering him speechless, but Charles does actually need his help. He hopes Pierce comes out of his shock soon.
It takes McIntyre gently closing Pierce's gaping mouth - and whispering something presumably uncouth into his ear, based on the slight flush it elicits - for Pierce to come back to himself.
"How," Pierce asks, "I repeat how do you expect me to help you? If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly married. And I doubt I could introduce you to anyone you'd be interested in."
McIntyre snorts. Perhaps Pierce's class of girl has deteriorated further since Korea.
"I'm not looking for introductions, Pierce. I doubt you know any of the eligible debutantes of Boston high society. I simply need help determining if any one on the list of suitable young ladies of good breeding is someone I could actually stand to live with." Charles sighs. "I find myself... changed... by our acquaintanceship - and Korea in general. And after the way my old school chums reacted to our little card club, I want to make sure that any woman I marry is understanding of our friendship."
"Aww, Charles, you admit that we're friends." Pierce looks to McIntyre. "And in front of other people, too."
"He must really need your help," McIntyre adds. "Though I'm not sure I qualify as a people to the Back Bay set."
"Well, true love - or the aristocratic equivalent - is a noble cause. Of course I'll help. But you still haven't explained how I can assist you in this selection process - though, of course, I'm willing to give all the candidates a thorough physical." Pierce leers.
"That will not at all be necessary." Charles affects affront. "After all, I myself am a highly skilled physician." He allows a smirk to grace his features.
Pierce laughs, bested - and does not appear too put out at the loss of opportunity for lechery. Despite his reputation, Charles has never seen him press himself untowardly on any of the young ladies he's acquainted with from their little neighborhood pub. That's the reason Charles feels comfortably approaching him with this difficulty - that and his skill at pranks and practical jokes.
"All levity aside, gentlemen, I'd like Pierce to escort Honoria to the various outings I'll have with the more likely candidates - she has already promised to act as my chaperone. And, as she was once engaged to an Italian, I assume she will also have the necessary fortitude to deal with you." Charles levels a glare at Pierce. "But I warn you, you had best not allow any harm to befall my sister."
"I'll be on my best behavior," Pierce promises. "Though after being engaged to an Italian, surely she can handle a country bumpkin from Maine. I suppose Trapper would be a bridge too far, though."
And there's an edge to Pierce's expression that Charles has learned means he's dangerously close to insulting McIntyre - and that he had better tread carefully lest Pierce tear him apart most viciously.
"I thought perhaps McIntyre could escort the lovely Nurse Freeman to dine with us and any of the candidates who make it past the initial interview. I would not subject either of them to undue... uncomfortableness." For both are fine representations of their respective... backgrounds - managing, as they have, to rise above their unfortunate origins to become competent medical professionals - and they do not deserve the scorn and censure that one of Charles's station would generally level.
"I think it's a terrible idea," McIntyre says. "Count me in."
"Excellent," Charles says brusquely. "You'll of course need suitable clothing - I'll make an appointment with my tailor and send you the details. And I'll need to inform Honoria of the plan..."
There are quite a few wheels to set in motion - including several young ladies to call upon - so Charles bids Pierce and McIntyre a rather indecorous adieu. They don't seem offended by his haste to depart, so Charles leaves South Boston with a spring in his step and a scheme in the works.
--
"You're gonna look so pretty all dolled up."
Trapper smooths the shirt over Hawkeye's shoulders, making sure it lays flat. Hawkeye can feel the warmth of Trapper's hands right through the thin silk. It's almost like when Trapper had helped him get ready for his date with Edwina - except that there's no Radar here to keep the mood friendly and comical. It's just intimate. And that intimacy is further underscored by Trapper laying a soft kiss on the back of Hawkeye's neck as he starts to do up the shirt buttons. Hawkeye can see himself in the mirror, half dressed and framed - enveloped - by Trapper, who's standing behind him, steady and steadfast. It gives him the courage to voice his reservations about the evening.
"I'm nervous about going to this little soiree, Trap, I'm not going to lie. I've never been to a high society garden party before - and I know the point of this whole thing is to make sure Charles finds someone who can accept us being friends - but I don't want to actually make a fool of myself." Hawkeye meets Trapper's eyes in the mirror. "I know I agreed to this plan, but now that I'm staring it down, I'm worried. It sort of feels like I'm being asked to play up the worst parts of myself to keep people away - like I did when I went nuts. And I'm worried I'll be stuck back in that version of Hawkeye after I've spent all this time getting out of it."
Trapper shifts so that he's more fully embracing Hawkeye. "Look, if you really can't do it, I'll go and you can stay home. But for all that he's an asshole, Charles ain't gonna make you make yourself look stupid or be the center of attention or anything. He's just asking you to be a semi-decent human being - something you're pretty good at - to make sure his date is one too. And I don't know that I'd be feeling all that comfortable at a high society shindig either, Hawk. But it sounds like Honoria's a good sport and she and Charles will be looking out for you." Then Trapper grins. "And if it gets to be too much you can always pull the fire alarm or hide in the plants or something. I think the conservatory has a big room full of ferns, you oughtta have no problem disappearing."
Hawkeye smiles too. "All that army camouflage training finally being put to good use." He squeezes Trapper's arm briefly. "Thanks, Trap. I think I just sort of got lost in what the worst version of the evening could be but you're right about Charles and the plan and everything - especially the part about me being a paragon of truth justice and the American way." Trapper snorts at that but Hawkeye continues on. "I feel a lot better about mingling with the silver spoon set knowing you'll be here waiting to mock all the upper class twits with me afterwards."
"Well, you ain't ready to head out the door just yet," Trapper teases. "Showing up without pants would definitely be the wrong kinda crass - not to mention, put you right in the spotlight."
Trapper gathers up the suit pants and kneels in front of Hawkeye, holding them open so Hawkeye can steady himself on Trapper's broad shoulders and step into them. He remains kneeling as he pulls the trousers up Hawkeye's legs in a lingering slide, the fine wool the faintest tease against his bare skin. And Hawkeye is having trouble remembering why he'd been nervous - or anything at all, really.
"You know, maybe I ought to just call in sick anyway, Trapper. Stay home with you." Hawkeye has to take a deep breath when Trapper does up his fly. His problem definitely isn't cold feet anymore.
Trapper stands, grinning, and wraps the silk tie gently around Hawkeye's throat. "Nah, you made a promise to help and you oughtta honor it." Trapper snugs the knot against the base of Hawkeye's throat and smooths the tie flat. "Besides, I'm looking forward to doing all this in reverse when you get home. And I can't spend the evening in anticipation if you never leave."
Trapper gently tilts Hawkeye's chin and kisses him. Then he presses kisses to each of Hawkeye's palms as he places the showy gold cufflinks Charles had insisted on.
"I suppose there's something to be said for drawing things out," Hawkeye says, a little breathless. "But not too much, I don't want to actually be late."
Trapper grins and helps Hawkeye into the waistcoat. "Glad you're seeing things my way." His hands linger a little as he does up the buttons. "And I made sure I had plenty of time to get you ready." Trapper steps back and his eyes rake over Hawkeye's body. "Made sure I had time to appreciate my efforts."
Hawkeye looks at himself in the mirror. He's never been a fan of three-piece-suits, finds them stifling and restrictive. But he can sure appreciate what a close-cut vest does for Trapper's physique.
Hawkeye's built along different lines, though. Rather than emphasizing broad shoulders and a strong chest, the waistcoat pulls him into a sort of hourglass shape. He looks slender and delicate and pretty in a way that the boxy trousers and suit jackets currently in vogue usually hide. And he'll have to hide this under a jacket too - Charles would pitch a fit if he showed up half dressed - but he may just try to find an excuse to wear the vest, and only the vest, in the future. The way Trapper's looking at him, he wouldn't mind it either.
And then Trapper's helping Hawkeye into the suit jacket, doing up the buttons, adjusting the handkerchief. When Trapper places his hands on Hawkeye's shoulders and pushes him gently down to sit on the bed before kneeling to help Hawkeye into his shoes, he can't help but run a hand through Trapper's curls. And Trapper looks up at him, smiling, and presses a soft kiss to the inside of Hawkeye's thigh just behind the knee.
They stay like that for a while, Trapper resting his forehead against Hawkeye's thigh while Hawkeye gently cards through his hair. It's quiet, peaceful. And then there's a knock on the door and it's Charles's driver come to collect him.
--
Hawkeye tries to hold on to that sense of peace as he's thrust into the genteel insanity of a high-society blind date. The main area for the party is a riot of color and noise - compounded by the echoing glass ceiling. And Hawkeye doesn't know anybody here except for Charles, who is obligated to pay almost undivided attention to his date.
Fortunately, Hawkeye is saved by the arrival of Honoria Winchester, who - despite all of Charles's stories of her wild past - is a sedate companion. And Hawkeye can slip into the rote mechanics of escorting her to their table, pulling out her chair, and complementing her appearance. He may just get through this evening all right after all.
And then Charles's date opens her mouth.
--
"How was the party?" Trapper asks as Hawkeye slips through the front door.
He's reading on the couch and the radio's on softly in the background. Hawkeye is grateful for the calm - even if this isn't quite how he'd expected to be welcomed home after all of Trapper's talk of anticipation and promises to undress him.
He raises a quizzical eyebrow at Trapper.
"Business before pleasure, Hawkeye. How'd everything go?"
Hawkeye flops down on the sofa next to Trapper with a put upon sigh. "Some hedonist you are."
He pokes Trapper in the side but he just looks expectantly at Hawkeye.
"Ok, fine. The party was all right - though rich people sure eat weird food. And Honoria is a delight. We definitely ended up being friends with the wrong Winchester - though it's probably too late to swap them out. But we did our jobs of being mildly objectionable and kind of feeling out Charles's date on things. Although we didn't really need to bother, since she pretty much aired every strange and bigoted opinion you could think of all on her own. And when she wasn't complaining about immigrants diluting the purity of good Anglo-American stock, she was criticizing the decor. Charles looked like he was about ready to throw her in the fish pond halfway through the second course - and I'm kind of sorry he didn't."
Trapper snorts. "That's almost impressive."
"Yeah, she must have cleaned up at the time trials for Olympic snobbery." Then Hawkeye grins. "But we found out, during one of her spiels about dirty foreigners, that she's absolutely terrified of catching a - quote - heathen jungle malady. And wouldn't you know, the conservatory has a room all done up like a little jungle. We went for a stroll there after dinner and Honoria kept asking about the various exotic diseases we treated in Korea and if we could get them from the room. And Charles did a very unconvincing job of reassuring her that there was no way she would be able to contract them in the States. And Charles's date just kept getting paler and paler and complaining of various symptoms. By the time Honoria asked her if her complexion was normally so yellow, she was ready to cut the evening short and lock herself in a sanatorium. Frankly, I hope she keeps herself quarantined for a good long while just so nobody else has to listen to her."
"And hopefully Charles's next candidate for Mrs. Emerson Winchester isn't such a dud," Trapper says. "I want my own turn at being a nuisance."
Hawkeye snuggles a little further into Trapper's side and bats his eyelashes. "Speaking of duds, I'm really ready to get out of these fancy clothes. And I think you promised to help with that."
Trapper grins. "You sure got a one track mind, Hawkeye. But I like the direction it's going." He ushers Hawkeye up the stairs and into the bedroom.
0 notes
foreheadface · 8 years ago
Text
Apollo Justice: Ace Wizards: Chapter 4 under the cut~ c:
Here’s Chapter 4~ no one’s going to see this because its like 2 o’clock but yunno. dfgh
please tell me if you see any grammatical errors or mistakes. Thanks~
4.
Apollo was up at 5:00, on the dot. Again.
It isn’t like he’s even trying at this point. Breakfast was at 7. Waking up two hours earlier than everyone else was so stupid. The day ahead of him was going to be long.
Before leaving the dorms, he attempted to wake Klavier, but the boy just slapped Apollo’s wrist away and rolled over. Apollo had sighed and looked up a first-year charm to make a candle flicker the moment Klavier became late. Hopefully, it worked if it came to that…
The Great Hall was barely bustling with people when he got down there but Apollo did see one familiar face.
“Hey, Apollo! Over here!!” Athena was standing and waving one of her arms wildly at him, so much so that Apollo felt himself blush from minor embarrassment. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people in the Great Hall yet.
“H-Hi, Athena. Why are you here so early?” He said, sitting down across from her.
“Look who’s talking? You look ready to take the world by storm!” She held up a thumbs-up sign to Apollo. “But that’s good, because we have a long day ahead of us,” Athena said, playing with her pigtail.
“What do you mean?” asked Apollo. “We have four classes today. With breaks in between, I might add. Kids in the Muggle world would kill for this!”
Athena grinned at him. “Kids in the Muggle world don’t know the first thing about Wizard schools. Lucky for you, I’m here!” The enthusiasm was radiating from Athena’s face. Guess she really means it…
“Our first class is First Year Potions, which is pretty extreme…” She said pointing to a folded bit of parchment she laid out on the table.
Apollo blinked. “How can any of the first year classes be extreme? We’re just getting started.”
“But it’s all about the teacher, isn’t it?? I’ve heard of her and they say she’s dastardly. Fails you on the spot if you do anything wrong, like make a measly mistake in her class.”
“Her?”
Athena rolled her eyes. “You are such a muggle! Did you even read the schedule??? Our first class is Potions! With Professor Von Karma!!! She’s awful. I also heard she whips students sometimes. She’s also the head of Slytherin House. Bleh.” Athena shuddered.
“Wait, she whips kids?! Like, with a bullwhip??” At least, that was the only thing Apollo wanted to hear. He didn’t even want to think getting something wrong in a class, of all things.
“No! Well, I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve heard. Oh! And History of Magic is awful too. Professor Payne’s gonna be pretty boring. Defense Against the Dark Arts seems promising, though! I’ve never actually heard of this guy before….”
Apollo took the schedule from his bag and unfolded the parchment. “Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Phoenix Wright… Huh… What does that entail?”
“Hm?” Athena looked down the page at when Apollo was pointing and then nodded. “Oh! All witches and wizards need to learn how to defend themselves from creatures or spells meaning to do us harm! Every student at this school takes that class, every year. Though, they must have changed teachers recently because I don’t know who that is, and no one I know has ever mentioned him. Well- no adults, anyway…”
“So you don’t recognize his name? It’s kind of a weird one…”
Athena smirked. “And ‘Apollo Justice’ isn’t a strange name? When you were called for sorting, I could have sworn you were at least a half-blood wizard based on your name!”
“Really? Why would you have guessed that?” And why did your blood status even matter? Athena fiddled with the crescent shaped earring again. “I don’t know… Blood status is just important here… I don’t know why though… It’s not like there’s really even a reason for it… Even grown-ups talk about it a lot.”
Students began trickling into the great hall and Apollo spotted a few owls dropping letters from the ceiling. A grey one swooped down to perch beside Athena with a brown envelope in its mouth.  Athena smiled at it and patted its head, to which the little owl leaned into happily. “Thanks, Ponco!” The owl chirped happily.
Athena took the envelope and immediately opened it and smiled.
Another letter dropped in front of Apollo but upon inspection, he noticed that it wasn’t addressed to him. Instead, it was addressed to Klavier. When Apollo reached out to touch it, Athena blocked him. “Apollo, don’t!”
“W-What?”
“That’s a howler. Boy, do I feel awful for the poor soul who received that, today.” She sighed. “It’s only the first day of school. How can anyone’s parents send a howler this early?”
“What’s a howler?”
“Hallo, you two! Cool candle trick, Forehead!” Apollo and Athena looked up to see Klavier sit down across from them at the Hufflepuff table. Apollo rolled his eyes. “You aren’t anywhere near late, you shouldn’t have even known about the candle.”
Klavier shrugging his shoulders. “I saw you do it before you left.”
“But you were asleep! How-“
“What’s this?” He picked up the envelope on the table, to which Athena squeaked. Both boys’ heads jerked towards her. “Athena! Are you trying to make me go deaf?” winced Klavier.
“I’m sorry, but those are just soooo loud… And not the least bit pleasant.” She bowed her head, again playing with her earring. “S-Sorry, Klavier. My owl just dropped it.”
Klavier stared at the red envelope in his hand and nodded. “Wouldn’t say I’m very surprised…”
“W-who’s it from?” Apollo asked reluctantly.
Klavier rolled his eyes. “Who else could it be from?” He sighed and went to open it but Athena shoved her hand across the table, stopping him. “C-Can’t you open it later? People are starting to come in and-“
“When should I open it, Athena?” Klavier bit back, uncharacteristically. “If I wait for later and put it in my bag, it’ll burn my books out of impatient spite. I might as well get it over with. Besides, there aren’t even a lot of people here yet. That means, less people will hear.”
Apollo blinked. “It’s just a letter. Plus it’s the first day of classes. It can’t possibly be that bad.”
Klavier closed his eyes and sighed loudly. “It’s not just a letter, Forehead. It’s a howler.” He said, pinching his nose slightly.  Then, Klavier began to rip the envelope open. Before Apollo or Athena could say a word to stop him, a red letter flew out of the red envelope and into the air until it was face-high with Klavier. He rolled his eyes at it and stared it down, crossing his arms in front of him. “What can you say to me that you haven’t already, Kris?” he muttered.
”Klavier, how dare you make a mockery of this family?” The letter exclaimed in a booming voice, as if it were answering Klavier’s exact question. It went on.
“Hufflepuff? Really? You know you could have chosen a more respectable house! At least Gryffindor like Crescend, you narrow-minded child. Do you know what father would say? Or mother, even?  Ich sollte nicht einmal sagen, wie enttäuscht ich schon bin.”
Klavier blinked, his features stone-faced, and sighed at the letter, giving no reaction. “Are you done?”
“Auf Wiedersehen.“ Then the letter flipped over in a bowing motion and burst into flames. Klavier immediately began to obsessively brush the ash off of the table with his hand, as if he didn’t want someone to find evidence of a Howler later. Athena exhaled. “That was a lot calmer than I originally expected…“
Klavier shrugged. “Ja, that’s my brother for you. Calm as a bloody living room rug.“ Apollo raised an eyebrow, “I know the Slytherin thing is a prestige thing but why is your brother so mad about it? The houses are, in the end, a personality thing, right?“
Klavier’s ice blue eyes were scanning the lines in the oak table intently. “Since the majority of the Gavins are in Germany, we’re the representatives of the Gavins here. And since it’s only us…” He shook his head. “Kristoph’s always been obsessed with glory. He’s always wanted us to seem just as prestigious as the other pureblooded families… Or even more so. I just think it’s stupid.
“I mean,” Klavier went on. “If I ever become famous for anything,  I hope it’s for what I do and not for who my parents and grandparents are, ja? Kris is the other way around.“
Apollo’s brows scrunched up in thought. Kristoph was not sounding like ’older brother of the year’, here. Hopefully, Klavier would forget about all of that stuff his brother said when they finally went to their first class.
Unfortunately, the three were only met with more German.
“Ach! The lot of you! Sit down!“ The woman at the front of the large dark room encouraged impatiently. Her accent was thick. The dungeons were freezing cold, even for very early September. Apollo spotted students with blue striped ties also in the class. Apollo took a look around, making eye contact with Clay, who shot the group a huge grin.
Athena and Klavier walked in front of Apollo and grabbed seats in the second row. Apollo followed and set his bag down, gently, but his head shot up hearing the woman’s aggressive voice addressing them… Or, just Klavier.
“Gavin! You’re late! This does not make a very good first impression! 5 points from Hufflepuff for each of you!“
Athena’s happy-go-lucky demeanor visually changed.  “WHAT? There’s still at least ten minutes until class actually starts!“
“10 points for Miss Cykes’s speaking out of turn! Do not make me take 20!“  She snapped. “Now sit down!“
Athena’s mouth dropped open. She turned to Apollo, her eyes wide. Apollo blinked. She isn’t going to be the most fun, is she? He thought, stressfully.
The woman walked to the front of the room, leaning on her podium and large cauldron. She looked over all the students in the class and clicked her tongue.
“As you should already know, this is an introductory Potions course. You will not learn everything, but you will know enough to move up to my next class, Potions II. You will not fail but you may not excel, this is not an easy class.” She paused and smirked.
“My name is Professor Franziska von Karma. Before any of you even ask, I did teach at the school in Germany for a very short time when I went abroad after I graduated from here, but I thought Hogwarts was more promising and suited for my tastes so I came back.” Apollo shuddered at the word ‘promising.’
“I do not give out participation points or extra credit of any kind. I expect you to do better than your best in this class or your marks will reflect your poor effort if you, the student, so chooses. Homework must be turned in at the beginning of class- I will not go easy on you! I expect you to write every lecture down on parchment and I do not have extra quills if you forgot your own so do not even ask me.
“Also, Ravenclaws! Just because you were sorted into that house does not mean you will do better in my class than anyone else here! If you do not do exactly as I say, you will fail- for I only run perfect classes. If you fail, it is solely on you.” Apollo saw Clay slump his shoulders from the corner of his eye. “Now take your Magical Drafts and Potions books out of your bags if you haven’t already and we shall get started, yes? Turn to page 60 und we begin reading the chapter. Then, we commence classroom safety when dealing with potent and dangerous potions.”
Apollo inhaled, doing as he was told. School was school, magical or not.
Last period couldn’t come quick enough. The hour-long breaks between classes made the day longer, albeit more enjoyable. The first day had been brutal and Apollo saw it on all of his friends’ faces.
Potions had ended with the assignment of a research essay on minor healing potions due the following week. Then History of Magic happened and that probably went worse than Professor Von Karma’s class had.
Professor Payne was old and boring as Athena said earlier… He was surprisingly sprightly and agile, though, and attempted to be just as forceful as Von Karma had been but failed in his execution.
By the end of class, he had revealed himself to be less strict, more jumpy, and really unsure of himself. He assigned no homework, on account of slipping on the floor when trying to assign a reading passage and his toupee coming completely off. The students had laughed and he had let them go fifteen minutes early.
Charms class came and went quicker than History of Magic, thankfully. Professor Hawthorne was sweet and spiritual. She taught the class how to make feathers hover a few inches off of the table and was ecstatic when they were succeeded. Charms class may be Apollo’s favorite class so far.
That is until he walked into Classroom No. 3C after lunch for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Klavier seemed brighter than he had been that morning and happily marched into the room with a wide grin.
“Why are you so happy, all of a sudden?” giggled Athena.
“Pay attention, fraulein, it’s the last class of the day. After this, we have about three hours to explore the grounds before dinner!” He grabbed a seat in the second row of the room and pulled a chair out for Apollo who was behind him.  “Aren’t you excited?”
Actually, Apollo kind of was. The castle was huge and the grounds were beautiful. As long as they could find their way back to the Great Hall for dinner, Apollo had no qualms about exploring.
“Of course!” Exclaimed Athena. “It’ll be awesome! I also wanna stop by the library later. And a few of the hallways we haven’t walked through…. Annnnddd…”
“Where do you want to explore, Forehead?” Klavier said, interrupted Athena’s rambling.
“Hm?” Apollo turned to Klavier and blinked. “Oh… uhhhh…” He scratched his neck. “A-Actually. We have a lot of homework, don’t we? Professor Von Karma assigned that essay on healing potions. We haven’t even had Defense Against the Dark Arts yet. Should we really be exploring and wasting time this soon in the year? I don’t want my grade to drop so early and-“
“You worry too much, Forehead. Live a little!” Klavier chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Clay’s meeting us after class anyways and he wants to explore too! What’s the big deal?”
“Maybe I don’t want to get more points taken away from our house, Klavier,” Apollo pointed out. “Between the two of you, we’ve lost like twenty points, today alone. And, like I’ve already said, we have loads of homework. I’d rather not get on Von Karma’s bad sides during the first week of school.”
Klavier pushed his bangs back while leaning so far back in his chair, it was practically balancing on its back legs. “How safe you are, Forehead. We aren’t going to get in trouble if we merely explore the grounds. No one will care as long as we find our way back before dinner or curfew.” He grinned toothily at Apollo. “Just don’t worry about it.”
The room began to get louder as more and more kids begin to fill it. Apollo checked the ancient looking clock on the wall and counted five minutes past. He cringed. The Professor was five minutes late to his own class, whoever he was.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Apollo thought he heard some heavy breathing. He was surprised when he turned around.
An out of breath man with dark spiky hair wearing blue robes holding a briefcase leaned up against the arch of the doorway. He was huffing out heavy breaths, as if he’d been running. As Apollo looked around the room, everyone else was looking in the same direction. The man wheezed.
“E-Er… Professor-“ A Gryffindor in the front-left side of the room said. “A-Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just-just give me a sec…” He said, coughing and then muttering, “God, I’m out of shape. Miles is always telling me so…” He coughed again before standing up straight and walking into the classroom, setting his briefcase on the brown desk. “Maybe I took too long for lunch…”
Apollo watches him in wonder. This was the guy from the train, Phoenix Wright, and he still didn’t look much like a professor.
Wright took his wand from his lapel and muttered something, making his name magically appear on the blackboard. Then he looked up to his students.
“Well, you all look like an exciting bunch.” He walked in front of his desk to lean against it. ”I’m Professor Phoenix Wright. I’m the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and I hope to be here for a long time,” his tone was light and laid-back, which felt like a breath of fresh air after Von Karma and Payne. “Actually, ah…” he chuckled nervously glancing away from the crowd to the walls behind them. “This is really my first time teaching so I’m a smidge nervous. I’ve been an Auror for the past few years, so I’m a little out of my element, so I you all go easy on me. ”
Apollo smiled. Ah… So Wright is new too…
“Basically, our workload is this: we’ll do some bookwork and maybe a couple of essays on situational technique throughout the year, but I’ll mostly be teaching you the physical aspects of basic magical defense.” He smiled. “You’ll learn to defend yourself with basic offensive spells, but enough about that for now. It’s the first day of class and according to your schedules, you’ll have me tomorrow morning anyway.”
Apollo smiled to himself. Professor Wright seemed… Really nice. Fatherly, even, almost Dhurke-like.  
He continued. “So, the first spell that I’ll be teaching you all is the most basic of defense: the disarming spell. Technically, it’s a charm,” he said, suddenly looking at a paper on his desk. “-buuut it’s the only thing on my lesson plan as of now and may not be on Professor Hawthorne’s. Plus, she’s a pretty nonviolent person anyways,” he notes with a smiled.
Is it just me or is your lesson plan that crumpled peice of paper?
“The disarming charm forces your opponent to release whatever they are holding in their hands, so if you ever think about joining the Dueling club on campus or ever get into any fights,” he turned and smirked at the kids and wagged his finger. “-Which I do not advise; this is the first spell you will probably use.
“The Disarming Spell, as it is also known,” Professor Wright drew a small ‘o’ with his wand and flicked it, the apparent charm sending a piece of chalk writing across the blackboard across the back wall. “-causes whatever your opponent is holding to drop from their fingers. For example,” he said, beginning bullet points and turning back around to his students. “If you do decide to dabble with the Dueling club, this spell will force the wand from your opponent’s hands, and if you are actually being attacked by someone,” Wright trailed off, walking into the rows of desks and counting each student in his head. Then he walked to the back wall and closed the door. “…their weapon, whether it be a wand, knife, sword, or gun in rare interactions where a muggle sees you or you see them causing trouble against someone else, this is probably the best spell to use because it doesn’t cause any damage to the other person.” He then paused and turned back to his class, as if remembering something vital.  
“Though, let me be completely clear when I say, do not use magic in front of Muggles until you’re of leg – actually. Scratch that, don’t do magic in from of Muggles ever… Uh… Forget that I said that …” Giggles emitted all around the room.
“A-Anyway uh, let’s separate into groups of two, corresponding with the numbers on your desks, and I’ll direct you….Uh…” The professor waved his wand a bit to reveal numbers on the right corners of each of the desks. “As soon as you find your partners…  Stand up and spread out, with your wands at your ready, in front of your partner in the back of the room.”
All at once, the kids stood up and spread throughout the room. Apollo looked immediately to the red number in the corner of his eye. 4… Wait how do I figure out who else has 4?
Apollo looked around the room the room and spotted a desk with the number 4, but no one was sitting there. He frowned. Great… I’m the only one without a partner. This always happens. He glanced at Clay, who had been paired up with a girl with brown hair in two braids. Then he glanced at Klavier who had been paired with some Gryffindor girl with red hair and a rowdy voice. Okay…. Athena was somewhere in the back of the room, having already found her partner.
Apollo cocked his head to the side and turned around to check the desks behind his when he was tapped on the shoulder. A tall boy with black hair and a brooding frown stood before him and Apollo nearly jumped out of his skin.
It’s the guy who glared at me during sorting! The boy pointed to his desk. “Guess we’re partners, Justice.” Apollo shuddered and scratched him neck, awkwardly. “Hahaha… Y-Yeah… Uh..”
“Blackquill.”
“U-Uh-huh…”
The boy shrugged and moved to an empty spot in the room as directed, Apollo following reluctantly behind. Then Apollo walked a few paces away from him to put space between them, as instructed. He felt as if he were fixing to participate in a dual to the death especially after Blackquill pulled his brown wand from his lapel as if he were drawing a sword from a sheath. Uh-oh.
“Now, remember, the incantation is ‘Expelliarmus.’ Repeat after me, ‘Expelliarmus,’” said Professor Wright weaving in and out or the groups of two. Everyone repeated. “Good guys,” he said with a bright smile. “Now, let’s work on that wand movement to pair with the word.  Everyone, try it with me.”
The professor looked around for a minute to make all eyes were on him before taking his wand and drawing a line starting from his top right to where his arm was level to the floor. “Move your wand like this before casting to your opponent.  After you do it a couple of times, it’ll be muscle memory.
“Now I just want you to try and take the other person’s wand. If the wand doesn’t fly directly toward you the first time, don’t worry about it. If you can’t get the other person to drop their wand the first time, keep practicing with your partner until you do. I’m coming around to make sure everyone gets this spell.”
Apollo felt his forehead grow slightly sweaty. Oh no. Oh no. Ohhh no. He quickly grabbed his own wand from his own lapel pocket and pointed it opposite of the way Blackquill was pointing his. It’s not like we’re actually fighting… it’s just to learn the spell. That’s all! Stop worrying, Justice! Don’t freak out!
“Don’t worry, Justice,” Blackquill said with a taunting smirk at his lips. “I’ll make it quick.” He began to draw his wand near his nose, as it was a sword. If Apollo were anywhere in the muddle world right now, he would assume Blackquill liked samurai TV shows or something.
Glancing between the other students who hadn’t even started yet and Professor Wright, Apollo brought his own wand up, level to his chin and smiled. “Y-yeah right, Blackquill. E-EXPELARMUS!” Apollo shouted, moving the wand the way he was instructed.
Really, he should have expected Blackquill to dodge the light and cast his own spell. “Expelliarmus!” Apollo felt his wand being tugged from his hand without his own control and onto the floor.
“Great job, Mr. Blackquill! 5 points to Slytherin!” said Professor Wright from behind Apollo. “Apollo, you may want to think about your opponent’s reaction as you cast your attack. Pick up your wand let’s see if we can’t try this again, yeah?” He smiled warmly.
Apollo bit the inside of his cheek and picked wand up from the floor. Then he moved back to his place in front of Blackquill, but the Professor had directed Blackquill to a different partner. Apollo raised an eyebrow but stood in position anyways.
Professor Wright, however, stood in front of him instead. ` “Uh… Professor, what are you doing-“
A grin tore the side of the Professor’s face. “I’m teaching you, Apollo, please pay attention. Just remember, it’s about how much quicker you are than the other person. Now, get back into position.” With wide eyes, Apollo reluctantly raised his wand at his teach. His eyebrows furrowed together. What was he supposed to do? Attack the teacher?
A few minutes must have passed with Apollo just standing there, in attack position. At some point, Wright sighed. “Apollo, this is the first step to defense. You need to do this.”
Apollo bit the inside of his cheek and lowered his arm. “You’re just going to let me, though? That’s not what you told us to do.”
Professor Wright smiled. “I’m not trying to duel you. I just want to see you do it. It isn’t important that I try to take your wand. You all will start being introduced to dueling next year.”
Apollo glanced around the room. Some people had switched partners but no one was directly staring at him. So he straightened his body up. He stood as tall as he could and nodded, holding his wand back up.  “I-I’m sorry, sir. I’m fine, now!”
“Good, boy! All right. Draw your wand and-“
Apollo drew his diagonal line as he said the incantation with “Expelliarmus!”
This time, a stronger beam of red shot out from Apollo’s wand. Professor Wright hands seemed to spasm and his knuckles turned white as if he were still trying to grip his wand. Then his hand flared out and he let go, dropping the wand. He winced.
“Pr-professor, are you okay?” Apollo asked hurriedly. The professor scoffed as he bent over to pick up his wand. “Of course I am, Apollo. Good job. Though I think you should practice that with a few friends in your spare time, yeah?”
Apollo blinked and then nodded. “U-uh huh… Y-Yes sir.”
4 notes · View notes
crimsonworkplace · 4 years ago
Text
The Unfortunate side-effects of Karyoke
So on the a6 tumblr @andromeda-six  I saw one of the ask saying Aya liked singing and singing poorly and it inspired this short story with Aya and F!traveler set between chapters three and four (also on ao3)
Though it probably comes as a surprise to pretty much no-one, there isn’t that many forms of entertainment aboard a moving spaceship. While I enjoyed looking out the window as much as the next guy, it gets a bit old after a few days and we’d been in transit near a week. Suffice to say, I was getting a bit antsy with my isolation. Despite this fact however, I was still felt a bit of hesitation when I stepped out of my room and it was mainly due to my reluctance to interact with the crew. While yes, the response over my identity had been mostly positive, I still couldn’t shake the fact that my father had pretty much been responsible of most of the tragedy in their lives. That when they looked at me they saw his eyes, his jaw, his face, and my inaction. I know I did, it’s a good thing there aren’t many mirrors on board.
Thankfully, it seemed like most of them were in their rooms at this time, so my little walk around the ship was rather uneventful. I don’t think I could deal with any of them at the moment, even the ones who had been nice to me so far. I think the kindness almost made it all harder than if they all just hated me, or better yet, listened to Damon and turned me in so I wouldn’t have to feel the overwhelming guilt of indirectly hurting them even if she assured me it was fine and didn’t change anything and she enjoyed the kiss. That stray thought almost made me trip on the staircase. So, I suppose if we’re being honest, while I do truly feel bad for all of them, there’s been a certain crewmember at the forefront of my mind since pretty much that first night.
Ayame Ikeda had the unfortunate effect over me that caused me to feel feelings leaving me a flustered mess on the best of days. Her flirtations hadn’t stopped once she found out who I was, in fact, it seemed to her nothing had changed at all and I was still someone she enjoyed friendly teasings and making blush until the day of the Valen festival. That day it felt like something… changed in the air between us. She asked about love and I got a deeper look in the pain she kept so skillfully hidden. She deserved love and someone to help with the hurting, she deserved the entire universe and I told her. That was also the moment when I realized I could never be the one to give it to her. She deserved better than the naïve princess that let her planet burn and I was determined to hold back my feelings and do everything in my power to help her find that person worthy of her. My unwavering declaration lasted about ten seconds before I kissed her. Like a moron. This set in motion the slight change in our normally lighthearted dynamic, there was a bit more weight on the flirting. My response was to stay away, avoid her and maybe the feelings there would go away too and we could focus on finding someone actually good enough for her. That was my heads’ plan. My feet however had taken advantage of my deep overthinking and led me right to the bridge.
I’d noticed in time to not be spotted by anyone, and very stealthily attempted to sneak back the way I came when I heard Aya yelling and was overcome with the need to make sure she was ok, and honestly, I really should of just walked away to save myself the mortification of bursting in on Aya when she was singing (note, not screaming because she was in danger, but singing, you know, like a normal person.) Causing her to yell out in alarm causing me to yell out in alarm tripping over one of the seats up there. 10/10 recon mission Peg’asi, you saved the day. I managed to pick myself up from the chair in time to come face to face with a concerned looking Aya.
“What happened? Are you ok?” she asked looking me over. “ Yeah, yeah, I’m fine” I answered attempting to brush her off “ Jeez, you almost scared me half to death, what was that about?” she questioned after noticing I was fine to which I cleverly responded taking away from my previous blunder and charming Aya along the way: “I uhh, you weren’t in trouble. Keep singing, it was great. Goodbye.” Or I could just respond with that instead, we’re really batting a thousand today aren’t we? I turned away to go back to my room, or the airlock when I felt a hand on my arm and turned around to see her laughing at me. “Aww not you too!” The puzzled look on my face made her laugh again before continuing “most of the crew has… opinions on my singing, I figured I’d at least have you on my side!” she said with a mock pout. “I am! I said it was great!” “Oh yeah, that admission was sooo convincing” she said dryly giving me her little smirk. You’re a jerk Peg’asi, fix this! “No, no, come on it was great let’s keep going!” I moved closer to the music source and started vocalizing along to the song. I think I’d heard it before, but not enough to know the lyrics which made Aya laugh again “Wow, ok, you definitely aren’t allowed to make any more comments on my singing.”  “I can sing! I just don’t know this one” “Really?” She challenged, giving me a grin “Absolutely” I said matched with one of my own. “My angelic voice would make you weep.” “Alright then angel” despite the sarcasms, the emphasis on angel made me blush as she walked over to the music device and gestured for me to sit on the seat next to her. “Pick something and let’s see what you got.” She winked.
Now, between you and me, I don’t really have an “angelic” voice, it’s decent enough I suppose, but the real reason I was being so boastful was to make sure Aya wasn’t insulted over my reaction to her earlier performance. Does she seem the type to really mind such things? No, but it never hurts to make sure. And maybe there was also a part of me that missed spending time with her, but we’re not going to acknowledge that now, or ever hopefully. “You’ve been staring at my playlist for a while, do you really not recognize any of it? No normal music allowed up in your castle?” Aya’s voice drew me out of my thoughts. “No, just making sure I get the right one to properly astound you with my skills” I winked at her “Oh of course maestro please take another twenty minutes finding the proper piece” she said sarcastically, but I could still hear the smile underneath the words. Still, her playful overexaggerating did have a point and I hurriedly selected the first song I was semi-confident I knew the lyrics to. It was a pop-y love song from a few years back and sitting up straighter in my seat I stretched out my arms and began a bombastic performance, which only lasted a few seconds before Aya bursted out laughing in the seat next to me.
“This is what was hyped up? I expected better!” “Better? Ugh, the indignity! I think you’re just jealous of my superior talent!” I responded continuing in my overdrawn attitude to which she laughed again to, brighter this time. It’s really nice hearing her laugh like that. “Let’s hear you then, since you seem so convinced you could do better”  I said to which she met with a stare before beginning in her unique Aya voice and fixing me with a look I returned while resuming my own singing. Our duet probably wouldn’t get us invited to preform at anything official, but I still loved the way our voices sounded together, the slight jeering one would give the other when we stumbled over a line from laughing to much or smiling too wide. Near the end of the song was a long note we began together but I quickly dropped off after looking over at her. Her eyes were closed and she was belting out the note with such a free and happy look, one that made it seem like she had momentarily forgot all the pain she normally keeps hidden down, one I hadn’t seen since the Valen festival and it was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my entire life. I wanted justice, wanted to do right by the galaxy, but more than all that, I wanted to make the freedom in her face now a permanent fixture of it and I would do anything to make it so.
Aya noticed my voice had dropped out and my silent, awed staring “Careful there, you might tempt me to sing more often if I know it could make you make that cute little look” she teasingly smirked at me and I, the fool, responded slightly breathless with red cheeks and without thinking “You should, you look absolutely beautiful while singing” which caused the teasing to pause and a slight blush to grow on her face, mirroring my own. “Haha, really?” she said trying to tame her blush and steer the conversation back to a lighthearted back and forth, for my sake or her’s I couldn’t tell. “Don’t think I forgot what happened earlier-” “It was still true then.” I cut her off quietly, unable to look her in the face but wanting to make sure she knew. I bet she was used to the ribbing for her singing, but it seemed to make her smile, genuinely smile, and I wanted to support everything that made her happy. Like she deserves I thought to myself while finally meeting her eyes again. This moment between us felt more than playful bantering or casual flirtation and it scared me how these feelings kept going and how I doubted I would ever be enough for her. Thankfully, she spoke again defusing the tension “Well, I guess I’ll have to add a singing portion to the private show I owe you” she winked. “Oh my goodness” I said getting up to retreat from her brazen flirts. As much as I loved spending time with her, I was grateful for the out, I didn’t want to stay too long and do something either of us would regret later. Before I could get too far away, I felt her hand on my arm again, gentler this time with a genuine smile on her face as she said “I did really have a good time, we should do it again sometime.” “Yeah, we should” I replied with a genuine smile of my own. She gave my arm a soft squeeze before turning back to piloting the ship. I don’t think my smile left my face for the rest of the day. I’m screwed.
If you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! This is the first time I’ve written something like this so any feedback would be greatly appreciated but don’t feel any pressure! I hope you have a fantastic day!
0 notes
djsd · 7 years ago
Text
There?
I’ve been thinking of a snappy introduction to this thing for a little bit, but it’s escaping me. 
I do this thing where I think about something so much to the point of where I won’t exist. I’ll lie on my bed, watching random videos that I’ve seen before, waiting for the next day to start as if something’s going to be *so* different then. My reason for doing that this time is because I’ve needed to project in some form. So, this is what this post is - I don’t know how long it’s going to be, or how *much* I’m actually going to talk about, but here goes.
Before I typed this out, I wanted to look over my old posts. Recently, a friend informed me that I’ve been Tumblr’ing (the verb; to Tumblr) incorrectly. I said I use this when I’m sad and need to gratify that sadness. Then, she showed me some of the things she sees on Tumblr, which made me change my mind about the whole thing. I have an array of quotes I’m going to insert from random junctures of my life which interested me. 
‘Happiness’ (04/02/2014)
I realise I’ve been experiencing “ups and downs” over the past couple of years, and that’s because sometimes I’ve looked into my future and have been afraid of what will come
that’s the one thing I want out of my life - to be happy
I change in social situations, and I’m making a promise to myself not to do that anymore
‘3’ (10/02/2014)
I don’t tell anyone about this, and that makes it more special, it is my thing to do, and I really like it
I think we should enjoy things for what they are
I’m very frightened of the future
‘Staying alive’ (March 2014)
I read the Hunger Games books last week, they were really good - this one because it really sums up my analytical prowess
(18/12/2014)
I want to be a good person, and I will try as long as I live to be that. I will be me, and being by myself is something I like.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
None of the above are groundbreaking in any sense. They stuck out, though, because I feel they summarised my process of self-discovery. Yes, self-discovery. I wrote, then, because I was sad. It’s weird. Amidst all of the above was me writing “I’m happy, though”. In 10 posts, I must have written about 25 times that I was happy, because if I wrote it, it must have been true. Alas, I was not. Well, I was after the summer of 2014, those posts are true. The first set, though, the really detailed ones weren’t happy at all. Later on, as 2015 approached, I feel the transition into a fully formed human took place. I was alone, but I had Mike. Then, I had Meg, too. They would occupy the times where I wanted to break the monotony that sometimes came with complete solitude. They weren’t (aren’t) only there for that, though. I adore both of them and they make each other so happy. This was kind of the way things were for a while. I’d do me and then I’d see them, not really blurring the lines, just staying still. Summer of last year was a bit dull, because I just did things by myself. I only did. They are part of the three people I consider genuine, honest friends. This post, though, is about the third. It’s a traditional: woah, what’s this sudden wave of emotions about lol? post. It was bound to happen at some point. I’d write it down in a journal, but I like this idea. The ability to embolden words, to correct errors (literally had to correct the word correct, lol). But, here we go. 
This post is about a girl I’ve met, called Verity.
If I’ve somehow welcomed the idea of showing this to you, Verity, I apologise for how gay it is. Normally I’d write this with the idea of showing nobody, ever. But all of the other things I’d written in the past with that intention I’ve shown to you. I do intend to keep this private, but if it comes to me showing you, it’ll be important. Hopefully it isn’t too odd. In fact, hopefully it is. If these past few months have taught me anything, it’s that embracing the odd is ok. In fact, it’s encouraged. But, it’s highly unlikely that I ever will, so the below is a projection of my thoughts on 05/03/2017, probably finishing on 06/03/2017. 
I met Verity about 5 months ago. I say about 5 months, as if I don’t remember the exact fucking date (15/10), but it’s cooler and so much more casual this way. A lot’s changed since then, mainly with my brain. I like to think of it as my brain’s woken up for the first time in my life. It and I have been passive observers, until this point. 
(This post is not restricted to between 05/03 and 06/03, anymore - I’ll split time differences up by line breaks)
So, about a month has passed and I’ve shown this draft to her. The anonymity of the whole thing has been abandoned, but I did say that was a possibility. As a result, I’m kind of changing the style. It’ll be about, but also to, Verity. I’ve written things down in journals/in the notes section of my laptop to add to this as and when, so it’s not as if it’s been abandoned kind of thing. I just wanted to add to it when the time felt right. I stopped on 06/03 because I felt I wouldn’t do what I wanted to say justice. 
What I wanted to say was that I had fallen in love and that I was scared about it. Scared to say it, or acknowledge it, or to genuinely believe it, really. I felt that I’d done the one thing I’d told myself not to do, or at least not to do for a very long time. If I told her, I thought, she’d run away. One day, though, I couldn’t resist telling her anymore. It was twilight and we were in The Egg. We hadn’t bought any drinks, because 1.) we’d just had a hot chocolate from Unit 51 and 2.) Egg = ew in terms of its beverage selection. So, we were just sat away from open view, hoping to be spared the public humiliation of being thrown out of a cafe (which would never have happened). I wanted to leave, really. Not that I didn’t want to tell her how I felt. I did, so much. I just thought: there’s every chance she’ll want to leave after this and I don’t want this to end. But, in an excessively poetic way, her face was lit up by the evening sunlight and I’d never seen her look more beautiful than I had in that moment. This sounds really cliched (this all sounds really cliched), but that moment (in which she looked most beautiful) has changed. Every time I see her I think the same thing. That she’s never looked more beautiful, or that I’ve never been happier to see her. It’s true, too. Every time I think that and every time I believe it. 
Anyway: through tears (of happiness and fear) I told Verity that I loved her. She didn’t say anything back and I didn’t expect her to. Like I always say to her: I know she’s hearing everything I’ve said and I know in that moment she heard me. I just couldn’t not tell her. She deserved to know and I wanted to let her know that I loved her - that I love her. That it was unconditional; that I loved all of the things she hates about herself. I love her for who and what she is - the honest, funny, remarkable and profoundly intelligent human being that she is. 
A week later we met up and spoke about it (not exclusively - it came up, as it was bound to, lol). We were sat in FACT’s cafe (which is, like, okay but not amazing) and I asked her if she thought she could love me back. Her answer was that she wanted to, and it was an answer I genuinely, honestly understood. An answer I still understand today. I know her life’s been hard and I hate that it has. I wish I could go back and just pluck her out of the pain - to feel an ounce of it for her. I can’t, though. The only thing I can do is to make her happy now. To make her laugh, to make her feel my love for her. It sounds like I’m attempting to be forceful, lol, but I’m not. This sounds silly and not something a human being should have to state, but I never want to be forceful in any way with her. I just want to be gentle, in every sense of the word. Never force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do - again, not that it needs to be said. People do that, though. They force the ways they think or the things they do on other people because it’s what they like. It’s what they want other people to like. I just want her to like the things she likes, do the things she does. I don’t want my existence to infringe on her independence. It’s one of the things I love most about her. Before me, she was just completely on her own and that’s so rare. I don’t want my being-around to change that about her. I want to see the world with her, to live my life with her; but, I want her to always know that she’s free to do whatever she wants, so long as it makes her happy. Not that she’d ever be worried about it, obviously.
I’m in love with you, Verity. It’s weirder to type out than to say, I think. I’ve not written anything to you in so long it’s felt. All of this punctuation feels so foreign. This post is about that. It’s everything I want to say to you but sometimes can’t, because my grasp of verbal prose escapes me when I’m with you. The style has changed from third person to first person and it’ll probably keep changing. I just want this archived, so you can see what I’m thinking. If you ever doubt it for a second, or feel like everything’s against you, read this. If you’re ever sad, I hope this can make you happy. If you ever miss me the way I miss you, I hope this makes you feel closer. I am wholly enamoured of you. You’re my best friend. The person I want to see the whole world with. For so long it was just me, but now there’s you; and I couldn’t be happier. 
(By the way: we need to start watching Buffy ASAP. There’s a lot to get through and Halloween is fast approaching...)
Above, I said that I had fallen in love with you and that I was scared of it. Now, I return on 26/06 and I can tell you that nothing about it scares me. Your existence makes me feel so happy and so safe. There’s something so reassuring about your voice, your humour; the very way you see things makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I keep looking back and think omg please stop writing this because you’re going to make her explode from sentimentality, but I really want to show you the inner workings of my brain. If I repeat myself at any point, I do apologise - there’s just a million things I want to say and it’s been such a long time since I’ve written some of them down. 
Falling in love with you, Verity, is the easiest and best thing I’ve done in my entire life. To me, you’re the most amazing human being in the world. I’ve never met anyone more beautiful, or intelligent - there’s no one I’d rather talk to, or share my life with. To speak to when I’m feeling sad about something ridiculous, or to gay-out to when the feeling of love I’m housing is incapable of merely dwelling in the most sentimental alcoves of my brain. To watch you sleep, even though I know that thought terrifies you. To hold your hand, or to touch your face, or to hold you as tightly as I can. I’ve told you things I’ve never told other human beings before - things I’ll never tell other human beings again. It’s like: the love I feel for you is just unrivalled by any other emotion on the human spectrum. I don’t ever want to feel this way about anyone else; and I know I won’t. Noticing the subtle way you put your hair behind your ear, or the way your face creases when you smile. 
Life’s been hard, really. All I can remember about being a kid is being sad, or scared a lot of the time. Scared of real things, of real people - of my dad when he came home, or my mum if she never did. Of bullies, of tormentors, of people whose aim it seemed every day was to make me sad. If I knew all I had to do was wait for you, though, I’d live through all of it ten times over. If I knew all I had to do was wait, I’d smile through the pain, knowing there was something waiting for me at the end of it. That you were waiting at the end of it. Unsuspecting, unaware that our meeting would ever result in what it has. That I would love you in the way I do. That it would be unconditional. That all of the things you see in yourself and hate, I would love and adore; and find that every day those things just become more and more beautiful to me. That we’re about to go away together, the first part of our (hopeful, but also, y’know: definite) world tour. That we’ll live together and probably have a dog (which after today’s visit to the bombed out church, is definitely going to be a labradoodle named Alice...), waking up next to each other every day. Some days we might wake up and feel poo and some days we won’t. Either way: it’ll just be me and you, with each other. Nobody else. That’s all I want, Verity - just me and you (or you and me to be formal). This next year is just about getting ready to me, really. Finding all of the stuff to put in our apartment - buying cool prints, or an unlimited amount of incense (we’ll find aura cleansing again: that’s a promise). Next year is when life truly begins - proper, grown up life; and there’s nobody else on this planet who I’d rather share it with. 
I’m just ready to give all of myself to you - to show you that I mean everything I’ve said. All I can say is that everything I’ve written is genuine - candid, honest, forthcoming: real. Real. All of it. In my life, Verity, I never want to hurt you. Or to make you feel like you’re anything but the perfect human being I think (and know) you are. When I think of you I still get butterflies. When I see you, I can’t believe how unbelievably lucky I am to have you in my life. You’ve met my family and I’ve met yours, and whilst I love my mum and dad, and my siblings, I consider you to be my family. I know you don’t believe in soulmates and writing it down, or saying it out loud seems silly, but if they do exist: I think you’re mine. I don’t think people have to be with people. In fact, I think the opposite. I like how before me, you were alone and I, before you, was alone, too. I like it when people are alone, because only then can you understand who you really are, without being influenced in any way. In spite of that: I think you and I are supposed to be with one another. Our paths crossed for a reason - we’re still here, however many months later, for a reason. I want to turn those months into years and those years into a blissful, honest lifetime. I hope you want that, too. 
In my life I’ve always been here and there - the in-between of sadness and happiness, of unrelenting fear and relative comfort. Now, though (as this titled post would outline), I feel like I’m there. Where I’m supposed to be. I’m comfortable and happy and I feel safe with you. Not safe as in void of risk. There’s risk, in what we do, say and feel. With you, though, I feel safe in saying the things that scare me, or doing the risky things that would have previously terrified. You’re everything to me, Verity. You are what makes me happy, what makes me think that this life business might be worth it. Apparently we have a one in 400 trillion chance of actually being born. So, that’s a one in 400 trillion chance each. There are also upwards of 7 billion people in the world. Hundreds of countries, thousands of towns, an insurmountable amount of occupants - hundreds of schools and universities. In spite of the odds seemingly being stacked against us - we’ve met. We met on the 15th of October and even then I thought you were incredibly beautiful. I wanted to get to know you. I asked you to come and see a movie with me and you said yes and, unbelievably, you showed up. I told you about my life and you listened. I told you I liked you and then I told you I loved you. Then I told you I wanted to spend my life with you and grow old together and, again, you listened and said you wanted those things, too. How on earth could I possibly be unhappy in life when I’ve been able to do those things? When I get to speak to you every day? You’re the most perfect human being I know and I’m going to try and tell you that every day. 
A few months ago, I wrote this: I think above everything else, I just want to know her. I mean, really know her. To have her sit next to me, in a room full of people, and to be the only one who knows her properly. Again, it’s selfish, but she’s the kind of person who won’t let just anybody in. If she ever does that, I’ll be thankful, and careful - I’ll listen and try to understand everything. I can promise her that I will give her my best, in everything that involves her. I will give her everything I can, really. I worry it might not be enough, and I often think what I’ve done to deserve even this fleeting moment in my existence, where I feel these things.
I still want all of those things. I feel I’m getting closer to being the person in the room who gets to sit next to you and who gets to know you. The idea that you might pick out what to wear with me in mind, or be happy at the idea of seeing me. That you might want to know me as much as I want you. Or that you feel nervous seeing me, or as excited as I do. 
That night we spent at my dad’s just before I moved out was one of the best I’ve ever had. I felt like we moved to another level. We watched ‘Up’ and I stroked your back.  I kissed your cheek and felt how soft it was. I held you for the first time in my life and felt your heart beat - faster, slower and then faster again. I held your hand as we walked on the golf course, our path guided by the moonlight. I held you next to me as you sat and talked about your life. About Natalie and Imogen and the men they’ve had in their lives. I looked at you as I told you that I never wanted to be that person and that I wanted to love you and protect you and make you feel safe. I stroked your back and felt your spine and felt closer to you than I ever have before. I was cold, but I didn’t care. Then we came back and I told you about what I did when I was younger and how much that has impacted my life. Something I’ve never told anyone before. I cried and began to shake and you listened and held my hand. You made me feel safe, like I wasn’t the monster I’d convinced myself I was for a really long time. I felt lucky and I feel lucky, because you wanted to be there, too. Then we (I) slept and I felt this overwhelming feeling of joy because I was waking up next to you. It was a feeling I wanted to repeat every day of my life. Then we went back on the train and went to The Quarter and you were exhausted. I took you home and came straight back and just sat and felt. I felt connected to you in a way I never had before. I love you, Verity. I just had to disrupt the flow to tell you because God, I do. I love you more than anything in the world. 
There’s a quote from the book Jazz, where Joe Trace is talking about his love for this woman called Dorcas. In it, he says that he didn’t fall in love with her. Rather, he rose in it - he discovered things about himself that he didn’t know, that he didn’t think were capable. All I could think about when I read that was you; and when, in my exam, the question of representations of love in American Literature came up (sorry for the long winded nature of this, lol) I put my pen down for a second and thought of you. In years gone by, I’d never have written on that subject - I had no idea what it meant to love another person. Now, though, when I read a book, or watch a film, or listen to music where the person is talking about love, I understand it. All of the songs I used to listen to about changing and moulding yourself around another person make sense. All of the things I used to dream of when I was younger, of loving someone - they make sense. It makes sense. You make sense. I feel these things because of you. All I want to do, through my whole life, is show you this. To make you feel my unequivocal, relentless, genuine love for you. If I die without doing that, my life would have been a failure. When it comes down to it, Verity, life is pointless without you. How could I go on with my life without the very reason for my happiness? The embodiment of all of my joy. I know this might make you scared, that you make me so happy. Please, though, don’t let it. Don’t let it faze you. Just know that I feel these things and that you’re the person who makes me feel them. 
You’re my best friend, Verity. You’re my partner in everything I think of and do. You’re my soulm8 (see how casual that was?). I feel like the luckiest human being in the world. I promise that, as long as I live, that I’ll protect you. That I won’t lie and that I’ll try and make you as happy as I can. Above all, though, I promise to love you more and more every day. I promise that I’ll love you until the day I die. I am wholly enamoured of you and I want to intertwine our existences. I want you to be who you want to be. I promise to support you in anything and everything you do - to make you feel safe. To push you when you need pushing, to support you when you need supporting and to tell you everything’s okay even when it’s not. I promise to give you all of me. I promise to respect you for who you are and to be your best friend. To not try and change you. To accept and love you for everything you are. I promise that all of this means something. That I mean the things I say. That all I want in my life is to share everything with you. With you, I feel like anything’s possible. I feel like my life is just beginning and I just want you to understand that. You are my absolute favourite person in the world. I can’t wait to start our lives together.
I used to be afraid of writing your name down, because that would mean this was real. Now, all I want to do is to acknowledge how real all of this is. This started off as a letter about you, but this is a letter to you. If you ever somehow doubt the things I feel or that I’m in any way unhappy, please read this. If you feel sad, read this. If you feel alone, read this. I hope you don’t ever feel alone, though. I hope you feel the things I feel for you. I hope you understand how deeply in love I am with you. How I want to give every ounce of myself to you. How you’re my favourite person, my best friend and the person I love. 
I love you, Verity, for everything you are. I always will. 
0 notes