#necklace inspired by the one from hell's belle designs :> | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

msilwrites · 4 years

Text

The Beginning of a Marriage

A/N: SEXUAL TENSIOOONNNSSS... LOL!

JUST A SHORT THOUGHT:

WARNING! SPOILERS from the book and movie 365 Days: I just finished reading a detailed review of the book. The difference between the Massimo in the book vs Massimo in the movie was so great, I felt so sad reading the detailed review about the book and the characters. (DETAILED REVIEW Read here....). Nonetheless, this story was inspired quite a bit by the Massimo from the movie. The review of the book and the difference it has with the movie not only made me want to write about strong female leads, but also, develop some sort of bond between my two characters as; (another spoiler from the book review; “Laura and Massimo as a couple - Those two didn't really share any interests, they didn't talk a lot about anything aside from how perversed they are & their sexual fantasies. Their whole relationship was built on violence, blackmail, anger and fighting.”)

And I believe the reviewer did make a point!

This story is the continuation of ‘The Wedding’

Genre: Action/ Drama / Comedy

Sandro Balestreri - Michele Morrone

Tilly McLeod - is an original female character

Will McLeod - Liam Neeson

Henry McLeod - Henry Cavill

The Beginning of a Marriage

The moment they reached the Balistreri’s ancestral home where the wedding reception will be held. Tilly immediately got out of the car, and ran all the way to the front door of the villa.

“What’s the hurry bella?!” Sandro teased.

He expected Tilly to trip and fall and embarrass herself, with the way she was going, but to his surprise, she was very graceful, despite the high heels and the long gown. The long part of the back hem of her dress, flew with the wind, which made him stare longer than he intended, she looked so ethereal, reminding him of the goddess of the wind.

“Quickly, Sandro! they’ll be here in an hour or two?” Tilly says whilst running up the on the steps of the entrance, completely oblivious to the way her husband stared at her.

He sighed, and turned off the car’s ignition, and pulled out the keys. By the time he entered the villa, he can hear the clucking sound of Tilly’s heels from upstairs like a staccato on a piano.

He chuckled as he climbed the staircase and was a little surprised that the sound of the tick-tocking of her shoes suddenly stopped. When he reached the second floor, he saw her door, slightly ajar, enough for him to peek through. Out of sheer curiosity, Sandro took a peek at the small slit of the door only to find his wife busy talking on her phone,dressed in nothing but a nude strapless bridal shapewear, whilst her wedding gown, lay neatly on the side sofa. Though it didn’t show the parts that he wanted to see, it accentuated her hourglass body. Who would’ve thought his wife hid such a voluptuous figure.

“Damn...” he whispered to himself, a naughty smile formed on his lips. “Who would’ve thought...”

“You’ll be late for an hour later than the designated time? Oh! of course, there’s no problem with that, we have more time to prepare for my side then. Take your time, we do not mind...” she says to the person on the other side of the line. He guessed it must be the magazine interview later on. After putting down the call, she sighs, and lays her head on top of the dressing table, completely exhausted.

With another exhausted sigh, Tilly gets up from her seat and changes into different dress, swiftly slipping into it. It had the same elegant silhouette as her wedding dress, but this time, it was black and a bit more minimalistic, with longer bell sleeves complementing the classic silhouette in the most delightful way. She paired with another set of emerald necklace, but took a little longer choosing the earrings, so she spread what she had brought on to the table to compare. Unable to choose, she leaves the previous task to re-touch her makeup.

Sandro didn’t notice that he had been watching a little longer until she lifted her head, to check the time. Though, there was nothing much to see now that she’s dressed, he felt like a voyeur. He didn’t understand it himself as to why he seemed to be enjoying watching Tilly dress up, there was something so sultry about it. In fact, he was getting a little hard down there.This was the first time he considered something so sexy without a woman being naked.

Suddenly, Sandro accidentally pushes the door open, causing Tilly to almost jump out of her seat.

“Who’s there!!??” she shouts.

However, Sandro quickly slips away, and hides at one side.

Tilly pops her head outside of her door, and looked from right to left, trying to see if there was anybody in the hallway. Much to her relief, there appeared to be no one. She closes the door shut, and Sandro hears the clicking sound of the doorknob, indicating that she had locked it this time.

Sandro sighs in frustration, and tried to find a way to ‘cool’ himself and his ‘friend’ down there. His eyes lands on the large window not far from where he stood, and the first thing he saw was the pool.

“Good Idea...” he thought to himself. It was indeed the perfect time to go for a relaxing swim.

**********

“Sandro!” Tilly’s deep, mezzo-soprano voice echoed throughout the hallway, reaching all the way to the backyard where the pool was. One of the first things he had noticed about Tilly in the beginning was her voice. Despite the sunny disposition and the small height, he didn’t expect her to have a such deep soothing voice that reminded him of those narrators in documentaries. When happy, it will be a little tone higher. When annoyed, he could hear her voice strain, turning a little raspy, as if she was containing something within herself. It made him little curious how would she sound like if angry.

Sandro swim’s to the side of the pool and sits down, he could already hear the tick-tocking of her heels approaching.

“Yes, bella?” he greets turning his head to her direction. There she was looking so regal in her black off-shoulder gown, walking towards him.

For a moment, she stops to take a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but those swimming shorts. She couldn’t help but agree that Sandro was no doubt a very handsome man, with a well-toned muscular body.

“See something you like, bella?” he teased, seeing the expression of admiration in her face.

Tilly smiles, clears her throat, and crosses her arms. “In fact yes... you’re a really handsome man, Sandro!” she says shamelessly, catching him off-guard. Often, a woman would either ‘neg’ him, tease him, call him arrogant, outright deny it, play coy, or play games when in such situations. But it completely surprised him that Tilly owned up to it.

“Wow... Thank you...” he chuckled, not really knowing how to respond to her honesty.

Tilly nonchalantly sits at the lounge chair behind him and asks. “What made you want to swim at this time?”

“I don’t know?” he said, as he looked up at sky. “ I just found it a little too warm for my liking, I guess...” he says, when she was the very reason.

“I see, well, I’ve come to tell you that I have your new suit ready. I placed it on top of your bed, just wear it when the people from the magazine arrives.” she instructs, before walking off.

“Where are you going?” he asked, watching her walk back to the door.

“I’m gonna take a nap, I’d appreciate it if you’d wake me half-an-hour later!” she says, before closing the door behind her.

**********

Sandro smiled, trying to contain his laughter, as he approached a sleeping Tilly, laying in the couch. He didn’t understand the weird, hammerhead shark looking ‘headdress’ she was wearing. He did see it in a magazine before and thought it was ridiculous.

“Well, an odd wife indeed...” he tells himself. “So she does have her inelegant moments...” he adds, realizing that he always saw her composed and dignified.

“Wake up, bella... they’re here...” he said, slightly shaking her. To his surprise, Tilly gets up, in a bit of a panic.

“I can’t see! what’s happening!!??” she said, her hands flailing in slight panic.

Sandro bit his lips to stop himself from laughing and pulled the unsightly thing off her head.

“Oh!” she lets out, laughs a bit, which caught him off-guard, he surely did not expect Tilly to laugh at herself. “I forgot I was wearing that...” she said, a little embarrassed.

“What the hell is this?” he says, examining the weird looking object.

“An ostrich-pillow... I’d get you one if you want?” she offered.

“No, Thank you...” he said, placing it on the side. The thing looked far from an ostrich.

**********

“Hi! how are you doing?!” Tilly greets the interviewer cordially, giving her a hug and the customary kiss on each cheek.

“I am fine, oh by the way, you look stunning!” the journalist compliments and looks at Tilly from head to toe with admiration. “Congratulations and Best Wishes to both you and your husband!” she adds.

“Thank You!” was her response.

Sandro watched from the side as Tilly greets the staff from the magazine one by one. It wasn’t so long ago that she looked unpoised, wearing the hammerhead pillow of hers. Now she was back to graceful and sophisticated Tilly.

“Sandro?” Tilly called and then turned back to the journalist. “ Come and meet my husband, Sandro...” she says. “Sandro this is my friend and reporter Lauren Wescott, Lauren, this is my husband, Alessandro Balestreri...”

“Nice to meet you Mr Balestreri, congratulations on your wedding, and winning the Forbes Travel Guide and Haute Grandeur awards.” Lauren mentions, referring to Sandro’s actual job.

Though Sandro’s family is still a mafia, they had long since been trying legalize, and have been continuing to do so. In the surface, everyone knew Sandro as the outstanding and award winning restaurateur and hotelier, and the COO (Chief Operations Officer) of the Balestreri Group. Only those who are loyal to the oath of Omerta knows what Sandro is and his family, including Tilly’s family. Though Sandro and Tilly’s family have long been trying to legalize their businesses, it never meant that they still don’t get their hands dirty. Especially when things take a different turn. Sometimes, things are just done the hard way.

“I heard that you and your hotels were nominated for the Stelliers awards? I wish you luck...” Lauren adds, talking about another hotel awards.

“Ah, yes, Thank You... I do hope to win something this year...” he adds. “Please take a seat...” he offers as he sat beside Tilly. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course!” she says enthusiastically. Lauren takes out a pen notepad, ready to jot down notes. “So how did you two meet?”

“Oh, through my parents, and then his aunt...” was Tilly’s simple answer. “His aunt was trying to matchmake me with him, and so here we are...” she added.

“Matchmaking?! that’s a good way to meet each other, specially now that it’s full of social dating apps...” Lauren comments and sighs.

“The first time you met, what were the things that caught your attention about your significant other?” Lauren reads from her notes.

“ I always saw Sandro as a man with quiet confidence about him. I would say the most memorable part of the first meeting would be his eyes. When I turned to look at him, he was looking at me with the citrine eyes of his... and I was not able to speak, so I drank tea to cover it up.” Tilly turns to face Sandro who had one brow arched, and a mischievous smile plastered on his lips. She knew that what she said will be used against her anytime soon.

Sandro’s turn came, and looked at Tilly. “ The first thing I noticed and captured my attention was her voice. Well, she might not know this, but the first time I met her was during the Wimbledon...”

“Oh!” Tilly looks at him surprised, and tries to see if he was making this up, or she had really seen him in person before?

“Really? we would love to hear that story?!” Lauren says, interested at the story that Sandro was about to tell.

“ It was during the men’s doubles a few years back. There was this lady and her brother, who was seated beside me and It turns out to be her.” he begins, Lauren was genuinely interested, whilst Tilly felt nervous, and tried to recall if she had committed any blunder that day.

“It was when Marach was hit in the worst possible spot, and then I overhear this woman beside me telling her brother, ‘ Headlines tomorrow, ‘Marach gets a whack!’ Well, he doesn’t have to worry about contraception now!’ ” Sandro says, saying it in typical Tilly fashion, spot on with her scottish accent.

Lauren throws her head back laughing, remembering that particular incident during one of the Wimbledon’s match. “ Yes! that is so Tilly!” confirming Sandro’s story on how Tilly usually is.

Tilly laughed along too, in relief. But she did remember the guy beside her laughing at her dry comment, dress in a light blue summer suit, wearing shades. But then that was all to it. She just didn’t expect that her future husband had been sitting right next to her then.

By the way, if you want to read the previous story, here it is, ‘The Wedding’

The Next Part of this story is here; ‘Marriage’

A/N: I will be editing this because I probably have made a number of grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed the story. FYI. It will be a series of one shots.

#Mafia #Omerta #IronLady #Iron Lady #Independent Woman #Michele Morrone #Michele Morrone Face Claim #Michele Morrone Fan Fiction #Michele Morrone FanFiction #Michele Morrone X OFC #Michelle Morrone x OC #Michele Morrone x Original Female Character #Original Story #Massimo Torricelli #Massimo Torricelli Face Claim #Massimo Toricelli Inspired #Drama #Action #Comedy

52 notes · View notes

notyourbae365 · 4 years

Text

Serpents and Sleigh Bells

Description: Jughead wants to do something special for Betty for Christmas, and Sweet Pea and Fangs have a few ideas. Slightly OOC, at least in my opinion. Not set in an AU.

A/N: I’m tired of the lack of continuity in Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Jughead’s friendship, so I decided to write a little filler scene! Also I really miss Sweet Pea. This fic certainly isn’t a serious one. Just a funny little Christmas-themed short fic. And yes, I stole the Black Dahlia necklace from Spiderman: Far From Home. I just really loved the design of it in the movie and i thought it would be something that Betty would be drawn to as well. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys the fic!

Contains: Christmas spirit, friendship, language, sex-related conversation, humor, mentions of Bughead

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, places, or names. All rights reserved to the creators of Riverdale and Archie Comics. Also, because I mentioned the Black Dahlia necklace, I don’t own that idea either. All rights reserved to Marvel and Disney.

“Ugghhh I give up!” Jughead Jones crumpled up yet another piece of notebook paper, and put his head in his hands. He had been trying to come up with ideas for Betty’s Christmas present all day, and had hit so many brick walls he was pretty sure he had a mental concussion.

At least, the pounding in his head sure made it feel that way. He had written down jewelry, a sweater, a new diary, and when he had truly hit bottom, an engraved fountain pen. A PEN. He had officially reached the end of his rope. Last year’s gift had been so good that he felt like he couldn’t top it. Add to that the fact that Betty is like the best gift-giver he knew, and the stress piled on.

Out of the blue, a knock echoed through his dorm room. Jughead got up to answer the door, but before he could, it was pushed open anyway. To his shock, in ran his two of his most trusted friends.

“Sweet Pea? Fangs? What are you guys doing here?!” Jughead ran over and threw his arms around them both. It felt like it had been years since he had seen them. Between the new school, his English teacher diving out a window, and helping his girlfriend unravel yet another mystery, he didn’t have a whole lot of time for social visits. That’s why he was beyond thrilled to see them standing in his dorm room.

“We wanted to see you! The Serpents really miss you, man. And we do too.” Fangs said, sitting down in Jughead’s desk chair. Sweet Pea took a seat on the edge of Jughead’s bunk bed, and then compounded onto Fang’s statement.

“Yeah, and we want to hear all about these stuck-up boarding school kids and their rich people problems”, Sweet Pea said, grinning.

“I’m more than willing to catch you guys up on what’s been happening, but first, since you’re here, any way you could help me with something?”

“Of course, Jones. What kind of a gang would we be if we didn’t help each other out? But uh, please tell me that it’s not a body this time. I’ve had my fill of those for a long, long time.” Fangs grimaced at the memory. Jughead laughed.

“Nah man, nothing like that. Thankfully, this time it’s something that isn’t illegal in all 50 states. I just need your guys’ help in figuring out what I should give Betty for Christmas. I ran out of ideas like 2 hours ago.”

“I don’t know much help we’ll be”, Sweet Pea said laughing. “We’re a little out of practice buying gifts for significant others.”

“But you guys know Betty well enough to help me. I just need some more voices weighing in besides the ones in my head.” Jughead said, frustrated.

“Dramatic much?” Sweet Pea pushed Jughead playfully. Jughead rolled his eyes at him, but laughed, because he knew it was true.

“Yeah, okay maybe a little. Still, it’s really important that I come up with something that blows her mind!”

“I could think of something that could do that, and you wouldn’t even have to spend any money.” Fangs wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Fangs! Come on, man. I’m not giving my girlfriend an orgasm for Christmas. I’m not one of those jackasses.”

“Ouch! Shots fired!” Fangs clutched at his heart.

“You’ll survive.” Sweet Pea said, laughing at Fang’s dramatics. Then his face brightened with an idea. “Hey, what about giving her an experience instead of a gift?”

“What do you mean?” Jughead asked.

“Like instead of a physical gift, take her somewhere special, or do something special for her. It would still mean a lot to her, and it would solve your problem of not knowing what to get her.”

“Okay, that’s actually a really good idea. See, I knew I kept you guys around for a reason.” Jughead grinned at the two boys. “So now I just need to figure out what kind of thing to do.”

“Hey wait! I still think you should do what Sweet Pea said, but what if you combined a gift and an experience? For example, you could take her to do whatever, and then present her with a gift at the end. Like a necklace or something.” Fangs suggested.

“That’s perfect! That way she’ll still have something she can keep, but it will be more than just the gift. And I know just the necklace. She’s been eyeing one at the jewelry shop for a while. It’s a Black Dahlia inspired one. It’s beautiful, and she’ll love it.” Jughead said, getting excited.

“That’s a fantastic idea! Oh, I have a thought about the experience part! What about a sleigh ride?” Sweet Pea offered up.

“I think she would really love that, but is it doable? For example, where on earth would I even get the sleigh? Or horses to pull it, for that matter.” Jughead asked, hesitant.

“Well, I can help with the sleigh part. My family used to do it every winter, and I know where to find it still.” Fangs answered.

“And as far as the horses, Cheryl has some that she pays to keep in a stable. I’m sure she would let you use them in the name of romance. Apparently, she used to ride competitively.” Sweet Pea added. “At least, that’s what Toni said one time.”

“Okay, this thing might actually come together! I could decorate the outside of the sleigh with lights, and a few inside, and get blankets, and a bluetooth speaker so we can have Christmas music!” Jughead was super excited now, and he was pacing the room.

“This sounds fantastic, Jughead! Betty is a lucky, lucky girl to have a boyfriend that cares enough to come up with something like this.” Fangs said, smiling. Then he snorted. “I once had a boyfriend who literally gave me a pair of socks for Christmas, and we had been dating for two years.” Jughead and Sweet Pea both winced, and then all three boys erupted into laughter.

“Then it’s settled. I know what I’m doing for Betty for Christmas. I couldn’t have done it without you guys, that’s for damn sure.”

“Hell no you couldn’t have!” Sweet Pea said, smiling.

“I’m really glad you guys came to see me. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around for the Serpents lately, I really miss all of you guys. It’s just been so ridiculous here! I thought transferring out of Riverdale High would get me away from all the drama, but I honestly think it just got me closer! Speaking of, let me catch you guys up on my last couple months.” Jughead said, sitting back down beside Sweet Pea.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot about why we actually came here in all of the gift-planning! To hear what trouble you’re getting yourself into.” Fangs said, reaching over and slugging Jughead in the arm lightly. Jughead laughed.

“Get comfortable, because it’s a long story, that’s for damn sure.”

13 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 13)

After sifting through another day’s worth of school assignments, Azula stands up to stretch her arms and legs. She still feels faintly woozy. She hopes that the feeling will subside entirely by monday so that she can go back to school. She is growing tired of lazing around the house; the extra leisure time as her antsy and moody.

Despite the stack of filled out worksheets and finished lit papers, she feels dreadfully unproductive.

She opens her housecoat and pulls it around herself with more tightness before tying it up again. Once it is adjusted to her comfort, Azula makes her way onto the roof. It has been too long since she had looked at the stars, no wonder she is an agitated mess.

She runs her fingers over the cool metal. The telescope is made of a lavish silver and along the edge, by the lenses, are intricate depictions of stars and planets etched in and filled with gold. Down the body of the telescope are more engravings, though unfilled with gold, they are just as striking to behold. They depict various constellations; Azula picks out Orion, Cassiopeia, Delphinius, and Aries. Her gaze lingers upon Ursa Major.

For a moment, she wonders what her mother would have to say about the surgeries. She has a feeling that her face wouldn’t have been altered at all, not even the simple lip injections, were her mother still around.

She wonders if her mother still works in the fashion industry. It puts an unexpected pang in her heart to recall that her mother had been the one to inspire TyLee to begin designing. Azula grasps the golden pendant that hangs around her neck and lets herself fall into the chair nearest to the telescope.

She lets go of the pendant and the small golden tiger falls against her neck. She pulls her chair closer to the telescope. She doesn’t want to think about it; she is dreary enough without recalling the last time she’d seen her mother. The day at the airport when the woman gave her the necklace and wished her luck.

She had been more affectionate and doting with Zuko. Her farewell much more tearful and with many more hugs.

Azula supposes that she had always been distant with her mother anyhow.

She gives her head a slight shake, trying to chase that train of thought away and tries to find Saturn. At last, its rings come into view. She observes the planet until her eyes water and she needs to draw back and wipe them.

She wipes at them several times before realizing that her eyes aren’t watering because she’d been staring for too long.

Her eyes are watery with repressed emotions.

.oOo.

Azula doesn’t understand why she is so hesitant to look in the mirror, she knows that her face has only seen improvement. Even still, it is daunting. She shoves her hesitance to the side and inspects her face. It suddenly seems silly to have feared at all when her face comes into view. Residual swelling aside, she looks much better. Her face looks more balanced in a way, and she understands why the rhinoplasty and mentoplasy are recommended together. Somehow she feels more complete. She looks older, flatteringly so. Almost anyhow, she lightly brushes her cheek. She is one operation away from the perfection she craves and has been fighting for.

She steps away from the mirror and finishes her morning rituals. Breakfast, shower, uniform, it is second nature. She drapes the strap of her shoulder bag across her chest and slides into the family limo.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Zuko throws his phone to the floor and runs his hands through his hair looking entirely exasperated. His head snaps towards Azula, “when you see Yue, tell her that she’s a real bitch…”

“I’ll be sure to deliver the message.” Azula replies.

“She’s unbearable, she’s…” Zuko falls short. He stares at her with his mouth slightly agape.

“What? Do you want me to make that face too?”

“N-nothing, nevermind.”

.oOo.

Azula pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and scribbles down a few notes. She can hear the whispers and she has a feeling that they speak of her. They are too hushed for her to gauge the opinions nestled within.

“By now you should have finished our first reading assignment. I would like someone to summarize the last chapter.” Kyoshi says. “Did anyone actually finish the reading?” Azula can see her scoping out the person who is trying harder than anyone else to meet her stern stare.

Azula raises her hand.

“Yes, Azula.”

To the best of her ability, Azula details the happenings of the last few chapters of the assigned reading. She has to let the woman know that her week off hasn’t set her back any. The woman’s scowl only deepens, “Azula has missed an entire week of class, why is it that she knows what we’ve talked about better than the rest of you?”

Azula’s stomach lurches at the glares sent in her direction. She looks to the only person who doesn’t seem to be angry with her. Mai stares straight ahead with her arms folded over her chest. TyLee looks as though Kyoshi has attacked her personally and Azula feels a jab of guilt.

When the bell rings, she hustles to put away her textbook and notebooks and catch up with the two of them.

“Tylee?”

The girl turns her head.

“I don’t think so.” Mai hisses, she pushes TyLee along. As she sweeps the girl into the crowd, Azula catches, “she hasn’t even apologized to you, TyLee.”

Azula props herself up against her locker, lacking the energy to actually open it. She gives a resigned sigh and stares blankly at the herd of students shuffling to their next classes. “Hey.” She jolts at the voice. Forcing herself to open her locker, she mutters, “good morning, Jet.”

“The surgeries are going well, I see.”

“I’m not in the mood, Jet.”

“I’m serious!” Jet declares. “I think the new look works well for you.”

She allows herself a small smile. “Thank you, that is the goal.”

“Did it hurt?”

“It was more uncomfortable than anything.” Azula shrugs. She motions for him to follow her to her next class.

“How many operations do you have left?”

“Just one.” Azula replies. “But I might go in for a couple more if I find anything else that needs...adjusting.” They reach the gym and Jet nods. “It is a little aggravating to have to sit on the sidelines though.” Jet cocks his head. “I’m not supposed to overexert myself for another week or so.” She shrugs.

“That’s alright, you can just watch me. I’m sure that I can make the sidelines worthwhile.” He winks and flexes his biceps.

Azula gives a humored sniff. “I’m sure that you can.” He gives her a thumbs up and retreats into the locker room. She makes her way into the gym and hands Kyoshi her doctor’s note. Weeks into the semester and it is still mind-boggling to have Kyoshi for two classes in a row. Heaven knows that she doesn’t hear enough, “if I can make it here on time, so can all of you” whenever TyLee waltzes in late.

“Sit with the rest of your classmates for the warmup stretches. If those are also too much for you, you can sit those out as well.”

Intended or not, Azula hates how weak it makes her sound. At least she has some drive to make it through the stretches. At least she has something to do aside from sitting off to the side, wasting time.

“I know that I shouldn’t be talking to you. Chan will whine like a bitch if he catches me.” Ruon declares, plopping down next to her. “But I’m a curious man.”

Azula quirks a brow.

“Jet said that the surgery went well.” He elaborates.

“I would say so.” Azula agrees.

“Come on, turn your head.”

Azula rolls her eyes and tilts her head back and to the side so that he can observe her face. Ruon rubs his chin. “Yeah, that is pretty hot.” He muses. “Shit, if Chan wasn’t gonna be such a dick about it, I’d ask you out.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Azula replies.

“I don’t know how he could deny a face like that.”

Azula laughs, thankful for the small confidence boost. “True.” She watches Ruon wander off to join Chan. She decides that she will approach him after she finishes her stretches. But as soon as she does, Kyoshi calls for them to begin picking teams. She makes her way to the bleachers, deciding that it will be ultimately better to approach him at lunch. She will have an hour of math to prepare dialogue and work away her nervousness.

.oOo.

Unpacking her lunch, she is well aware that the jitters have not subsided. If anything, she only feels that much more queasy. She feels the table shift and looks up. “Yue.” She greets nonchalantly.

“Tell your brother that he’s such a big ass that mine looks small in comparison.”

Azula sniggers. “I’ll be sure to tell him…” She pauses. “I’m pretty sure that he asked me to tell you…”

“Whatever it is, just give him one of these for me.” She lifts her middle finger.

“So…” Azula starts, “what do you think?”

“Of what?”

Azula makes a waving gesture at her face.

“It’s fake as hell.” Yue replies all too quickly and with a shrug. “But all of that work definitely looks nice.”

Azula rolls her eyes, she suppose that, that is as close as it gets to a compliment with Yue.

“It suits you.” Chan says as he takes a seat. She begins to thank him, but he speaks over her, “your face is as fake as the rest of you.”

“Everything else is natural.”

“I’m not talking about your body. I’m talking about your personality and every friendship that you’ve ever formed.”

“That’s not true.”

“It isn’t?” Mai asks. “What pricy apology gift were you planning on buying for TyLee?” Azula draws in a sharp breath and peers at TyLee. The girl averts her gaze and stares glumly at her sandwich. “You were much more pleasant before you got those surgeries…”

“At least there was a time when I was pleasant, that’s more than you can say.” Azula mutters.

She catches a flicker of a sneer, a fleeting flash of anger in Mai’s eyes. It only lasts a second before her face goes wholly impassive once more. “It doesn’t even look that good.”

The whole table falls silent. Conversation doesn’t resume for the rest of the hour, not with her and not with each other. She supposes that she will have to find someone else to sit with. Zuko and Ruon are her go to choices but they don’t share the same lunch hour as she. The bell rings and she watches everyone else leave. She lingers behind, even after everyone else has left. Mostly everyone; Katara and Suki finish off their conversation and then depart.

She swears that Katara has looked at her once or twice. But then again, she might just be over-thinking things.

“Can I talk to you?” Katara asks.

But she isn’t in the mood to speak with anyone. Much less Sokka’s sister.

Sokka’s sister.

Sokka.

The elections.

Azula tenses up and hurries to her locker. She tosses her textbooks into it haphazardly--relative to her usual tidiness--and rushes to the auditorium. She takes a moment to catch her breath and run her fingers through her hairline. How the hell had she forgotten about the elections? She hasn’t even prepared a speech. She rubs her face with her hands as Sokka steps up to the podium.

“You’re late.” Long Feng remarks.

“I’m perfectly on time.”

“You were supposed to speak first.” Long Feng counters. “You are late.”

Thoroughly exhausted, she concedes, “fine, I’m late. Whatever. I’m here now.” She has a sneaking suspicion that it doesn’t matter anyways. His promises of new sporting equipment and ‘actually exciting’ field trips had been winning over the student body from the start. Truth be told, she never had a clue what to promise her classmates, there has always been a disconnect between she and them. She can spin all of the pretty political jargon that she wants, they don’t respond to logos. And Sokka has her heavily beat as far as pathos goes. Even her ethos had declined rapidly.

Truth be told, deep down, she knew all along that the election was a waste of her time.

Still, she hadn’t expected a unanimous decision.

Not even TyLee had voted in her favor. Yue, refusing to vote for the “class dumbass”, opted to leave her ballot blank and boasted as much. Much too late, it dawns upon her that Chan had been right all along. Her social decline had, and still has, nothing to do with her face and everything to do with her mess of a personality.

The crowd cheers and claps for their new president, but all Azula can hear is her father berating her.

She doesn’t go home that night.

She sits in the outdoor bleachers and watches Chan and his team toss a football around. She is a silent and unnoticed spectator. When the sky beings to blacken, she wanders across the lawn to where the astronomy club is setting up.

“You’re here early.” Pathik remarks.

“Yeah.” Azula shrugs.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Just disappointed about the class elections.” She half lies.

“You’ve missed a week of school.” He notes. “Oh, oh dear.” He fumbles with the telescope. “Can you help me with this?”

“Maybe you should put some of that stuff down.” She replies as she helps him position the telescope.

“Right, yes.” He sets down an armful of star maps and science books.

“I’ve been in the hospital. It isn’t a big deal.” She stares into the telescope and makes some adjustments. “There. It’s all set.”

Pathik gives it a look for himself. “Perfect! Thanks to you we’ll have some extra time today!”

His enthusiasm is almost comforting. At least she is still good for something. She finds herself a seat in the grass, she wraps her arms around her knees and stares upwards. Katara is the second person to arrive, followed by Yue. Azula rolls her eyes, the girl is really going out of her way to pester her rival this year.

“Yo, Principal P! When do I get to look at the moon?”

“Whenever you learn to work a telescope.” She hears Katara mutter.

Her gaze follows Pathik as he paces about. “Now where did I put my pen…”

“Did you check your beard, that’s where it was the last time.” She recognizes his voice from the first club meeting. If she remembers right, he calls himself Sneers.

“Ah! Yes!” Pathik digs into is absurdly fluffy beard and pulls out his pen. “First things first, I’d like to remind everyone to apply for their chance to for the trip to the NIR&Ex, it could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. And don’t forget about the Lake Laogai University scholarship opportunity. If you show promise in this club and in Agni High’s astronomy classes, you can earn a full ride.” He gives a few giddy claps. “I can think of two contenders already.” His gaze shifts between she and Katara. “Before we get to the telescopes, I’d like to announce that the town of Agni is hosting its annual comet viewing festival. If you have all been paying attention in class, you already know that you all are alive during a very special time. Would someone like to let the rest of the club know why that is?”

He scans the lot of them. “Ah, yes, Katara.” He points his pen at her. “Please explain.”

“We have the chance to watch Sozin’s Comet as it passes.”

“Correct!” He claps his hands once more. He turns to Azula, “it must be particularly exciting to know that you will see the comet that your great grandfather is named for.”

Azula nods, “quite.”

“The Kasai family has helped the astronomy community profoundly and, with luck and determination, I believe that the family will continue to make contributions. Am I correct.” He gives Azula a wink.

“I do hope so.” She replies.

“Yes, yes. Where was I? Oh, right, the festival. The festival will take place in mid December, instead of our regular meeting, we will be attending it. If you’d like to bring a guest, please fill out this form,” he holds up a stack of papers, “before you leave.”

“Ugg, if I hear one more thing about this comet…” Yue rolls her eyes. “Who cares about the comet, the moon is what really matters.”

“Of course the moon is what really matters.” Katara agrees. “But don’t you realize what the comet means?”

“That Azula gets to brag about her family’s legacy more than usual?”

“Ha. Ha.” Azula folds her arms.

“Oh! I know! It means that you get to geek out more than usual.” Yue guesses. “I guess making a fool of yourself at homecoming wasn’t enough humiliation for you.”

Katara’s face flushes. “Y-you know what. I don’t even know why I try with you. You’re so...so…” She storms over to one of the available telescopes as Yue collapses into a round of girlish giggles. The sound is grating to Azula’s ears.

Azula finds a telescope of her own, but for the first time she can’t seem to focus on the sky. She was going to take Chan to the festival as a first date. Or at the very least, bring Mai and TyLee along for a girl’s day.

Now.

Now she isn’t sure that she is up for attending at all.

It isn’t like she hasn’t wasted an opportunity before.

She helps Pathik and the rest of the club pack their equipment away for the week. “Hey.” Azula turns around.

“Are you okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because, you don’t seem happy.”

“Whether or not I am is none of your business.”

Katara lifts her hands, “just trying to help.” She begins to walk away.

“Wait.” Azula mumbles, it is just like the first time. Katara turns around again but she doesn’t know what to say. “Nevermind.”

Katara sighs. “Why are you doing it if it makes you miserable?”

Her brows crease, “doing what?”

“Getting the surgeries?”

“That’s not why I’m unhappy.” But it is, isn’t it? At the very least it is a critical part of it. All at once, the surgeries are the only thing keeping her uplifted. She is wholly conflicted, trapped in a sort of paradox. In some regards she feels more confident. For once, despite her utter loneliness, she feels beautiful. Like she has a chance to make friends. But the very thing that grants her this confidence, takes it away. She feels fake.

Fake and shallow.

She realizes that Katara is waiting for her to elaborate. She doesn’t know how.

“You don’t have to keep getting them, you know.” She waits for a reaction that doesn’t come. “You look fine. You looked fine before.”

Azula bites the inside of her cheek.

“I tried to bleach my skin once.” Katara confesses. “I thought that Jet would leave me alone if I were lighter. I’m glad that I had Sokka and Suki and Toph...and so many people to tell me that I didn’t have to do it.”

“Jet will find any reason to go after you.”

Katara nods, “I figured that out.” She crosses her arms. “You don’t need to have any more work done. I guess that I just wanted you to know that, even if you don’t like me very much.”

Azula opens her mouth as a car pulls up.

“That’s my ride. I’ll see you in gym class.”

Azula wanders away from the parking lot as her family’s limo pulls up. She knows that she is only making things worse by avoiding him. All the same, she doesn’t think that she can handle her father tonight.

She spends her night laying on the park bench, staring up at the stars.

#Avatar #Azula #Mai #TyLee #Katara #Zuko #Sokka #Toph #Suki #Aang #Fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

toomanyfeelings5 · 5 years

Text

the definitive ranking of pulp! the classics covers and summaries, from worst to best

(Note: Pride and Prejudice was not included in this list, as there were only poster and greeting card options for the work, and not an actual book or summary. Had a book and summary been provided, it would have ranked lowest for unoriginality. It’s literally just 1995 Colin Firth staring moodily at you. The caption is “Lock Up Your Daughters...Darcy’s in Town!” which is just unfortunate, frankly, and honestly laughable.)

16. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

You take a novel that’s positively overflowing with drama and give it THIS cover? THIS summary? Absolutely uninspired.

Here’s looking at you Cathy...

Childhood sweethearts turned star-crossed lovers, fuelled by bitter jealousy and dark revenge. She’s pretty and posh, he’s a moody brooding bastard. Heartbreak, alcoholism and plenty of illegitimate kids – it’s a perfect Northern drama.

Where is the feeling? The screaming violins playing as we read? The moors? The time skips? A hint of the positively bonkers plot that only a Bronte could compose?

15. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. On an Oscar Wilde novel, no less.

Hey girl...I’d sell my soul for you!”

Dorian Gray might be as pretty as a picture, but he's paid a devilishly high price for it. He'll stay drop-dead gorgeous, but there's something nasty festering in the attic...

Pretty as a picture and still lusting after ladies? Please. Pulp! Classics, you can do better.

14. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Again, we must speak the ancient chant: Oh, the heterosexuality of it all.

When it came to loving...He knew which Daisy to pick!

Sorry old sport, but Gatsby has a bigger house than you, prettier friends than you and a Rolls Royce to cart them all round in. To a backdrop of popping champagne corks and orchestral jazz, our hero bids to buyout his old adversary, perennial jock, Tom Buchanan and reclaim Daisy, his favourite bit of High Society totty.

Nick Carraway gets not one mention, which is odd given that he’s the narrator, the protagonist, and Gatsby’s most ardent love interest. Also strange is the cover’s insistence that Jordan Baker, known lesbian, would swoon over Gatsby. Doubly strange is how tiny the women are in comparison to Gatsby’s massive frame. What is, again, bamboozling, is how the slogan on the cover seems to imply that Gatsby knows how to pick a woman. He doesn’t know how to choose anyone, let alone love them. All Gatsby truly knows is the desperate pursuit of a fruitless dream.

13. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

Romeo looks like he could be Juliet’s father. Juliet looks like an Upper East Side Widow, not at all like the tween girl she really is.

Too wild to live...too young to die!

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou…. Oh wait, he’s hanging around in the garden again. Will young Romeo and his Juliet ever be able to express their raging hormones? Or will their feuding families make this romance blossom into a poisoned flower? Either way, both their houses are totally plagued!

“Wherefore” means “why,” not “where,” though I do have to award points to the summary for placing the blame squarely on the feud and not on these doomed young lovers. Though again, young isn’t the operative word I’d use to describe this version of Romeo and Juliet.

12. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

This is what one would expect upon seeing a pulp cover of a classic novel. Not much originality or flair is present, but at least some sense of the story is conveyed.

Solitude was driving him nuts!

Cannibals! Captives! Coconuts!

One man’s love of the sea leaves him stranded on a desert island with nothing but a few goats, a bible and a parrot for company.

Will he ever escape? Will his new pal Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? Or will solitude send him totally barmy?

WILL Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? One must read to find out, I suppose...

11. Tess of the D'urbervilles

Marilyn Monroe?????

She’s...no angel.

The original Wessex girl!

Tess is just a humble milkmaid when the local landowner has his wicked way. Her new beau, the smarmy Angel Clare, is none too pleased when he finds out she’s already been deflowered. What is a girl to do? Bloody revenge of course, and an ending to touch the hardest of hearts.

At least the summary blames the terrible men in Tess’s life rather than Tess herself, unlike the tagline on the cover. And while Marilyn Monroe seductively lounging about with a drink doesn’t recall the faintest essence of Hardy’s novel, one would like to imagine Tess relaxing in whatever clothes she pleased, a straw dangling out of her drink, a smile on her face as she answers to no one and spends her quiet evening in solitude.

10. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

An innocuous cover; the men’s faces hint at the comedic nature of this novel, and yet...something nags the brain upon looking at this.

To say nothing of the dog...

Incompetence, embarrassment and general disaster - no it’s not PMQs, it’s a trip down the Thames! Three hapless fellows and a world weary dog decide they need a holiday from their exhausting hypochondria. Hilarious mayhem ensues.

To say nothing of the dog indeed: Why does the dog on the cover have a human face?

9. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

All one can say upon viewing this cover is: Jeff Goldblum, is that you?

Change really BUGGED him!

Poor old Gregor. One day he's depressed about his dreary travelling salesman gig, the next, he's roaching around the apartment and disgusting his family. All that's left is creeping the walls and eating garbage. How's his sis ever going to find a sugar daddy with her grotty bro in tow?

Gregor isn’t grotty, he’s our six-legged hero in this tragic tale.

And yet in the end, the question that haunts us all echoes in our minds in an unceasing echo: is that Jeff Goldblum?

8. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Alice as a hippie is eye-catching, but not particularly creative.

This cupcake was off her head!

What HAS happened to little Alice? Taking 'shrooms, hanging out with hookah smoking ne'er-do-wells and being dragged to court. That's gonna be one hell of a hangover!

As much as I’m intrigued by Alice wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a peace sign necklace, the summary and the cover consist of one joke and one joke only.

7. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

I just like how Dr. Jekyll in this cover looks equally as fucked up as Mr. Hyde.

No more Mr. Nice Guy... There’s a sinister man about London town with something of the night about him. Mr Hyde is mad, bad and has a penchant for bumping off MPs and other kindly innocents. Will his friend Dr Jekyll be able to stop him? Or is there something more to their relationship than meets the eye…? Only the intrepid Utterson can get to the bottom of this mystery, but what will he find in Dr Jekyll’s lab?

Points to this summary for including Mr. Utterson, and for insinuating that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may be clandestine lovers.

6. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, don’t we love it when a greedy rich man gets bludgeoned by a mace into being more generous and kindly towards others?

This cat was a drag....’til a midnight wake-up call...

Christmas?! What a load of Humbug. Mistletoe and Wine just don't do it for Scrooge; he's a workaholic miser with an attitude problem. If he doesn't change his ways, he'll end up with no friends and Tiny Tim won't last the year. Let's hope some spooky night-time visitors can put the jingle back in his bells!

Ring-a-ling-a-ling, Mr. Scrooge. The mace is raised and the bells are ringing.

5. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

The tag-line made me, as the youths say, laugh out loud.

Whoops! Apocalypse....

The horror! The horror!

Kurtz might be the apple of every brutish imperialist’s eye, but his God complex is getting wildly out of hand in the depths of the jungle. What on earth will Marlow find when he finally gets downriver? Devil worship? Savages? Heads on sticks? Or just another nutty white man with his knickers in a twist?

Surprisingly anti-racist summary made this jump to the higher echelons of this esteemed list, though of course that doesn’t excuse this novel’s abhorrent and embarrassing fake-deep racism. It also must be noted that the tag-line should have been “Whoops! White supremacy!” and the text of the novel should have entirely consisted of Chinua Achebe’s essay on the work.

4. The Hounds of Baskerville by Arthur Conan Doyle

The cover alone is a winner. A rabid chihuahua out for blood? Inspired.

Murder...Mystery...Walkies!

A desolate moor, a diabolical dog in need of a muzzle and some inbred locals; Sherlock Holmes is really up against it. With the help of his trusty sidekick Dr. Watson, Holmes pieces together a mystery that has captured the imagination of readers across the decades. All whilst practising a serious coffee and cocaine habit.

The tag-line is fun and catchy, but sadly this summary must be admonished for insisting that Dr. Watson is merely a “trusty sidekick” to Sherlock Holmes. Heterosexuality strikes again, reducing the impact of the striking cover design.

3. Dubliners by James Joyce

Finally! Some style, some panache, some flair to accompany these short stories about being sad and horny in Ireland.

Stuck in the Liffey with you...

Booze, Sex and Hot Floury Potatoes… Those Dubliners are at it again!

Liars, thieves, whores and priests… James Joyce sure knew how to throw a party! This relentlessly downbeat collection explores the very worst aspects of human nature, and doesn’t leave out the juicy bits. It might not be in the best possible taste, but who doesn’t want to get down and dirty in Dublin?

The summary and cover work in tandem to wholeheartedly convince me that Dubliners is an action-packed, slick collection of stories detailing the wild escapades of a motley cast of ragamuffins, and I gotta hand it to the folks over at Pulp! Classics for injecting some bonafide vintage cool into Joyce’s work.

2. Othello by William Shakespeare

I have so many thoughts on this. Mr. T. as Othello is fascinating, as is the tagline, “Some kind of Bard...aaaaasss.” Is this a commentary on blaxploitation media? One can’t help but recall Mr. T.’s reasoning behind his mohawk, his gold chains, to honor his ancestors and assert his living, unshakable humanity in a racist society. Is this is a genuine effort on the part of Pulp! Classics to imply that a blaxploitation-influenced adaptation of Othello could reveal deeper truths to the play that we have had yet to glimpse?

Some kind of Bard... aaaasss

He’s a bardass brother with the love of a fine woman. That is until some cloven hoofed honky starts talking crazy about variously hued sheep tupping the hell outta each other! You gotta pity the fool who gets shafted by the green eyed monster. Let’s hope Othello can work out who to trust before it’s too late…

The fast-paced alliterative language of the summary harkens to Shakespeare’s own wit-fueled dialogue and penchant for creative language. The summary also calls Iago a devil, which is apt, and implicitly criticizes his racism, hinting at the play’s greater tragedies to come. The cover and summary also work in tandem to emphasize Othello’s jealousy and destruction: the “green-eyed monster” is mentioned, and the cover itself is a putrid green. An excellent example of what a vintage cover and summary can achieve.

1. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

You all knew this was coming.

This kid was born on the wrong side of the lab...

Frankenstein’s monster is on the rampage; terrorising the locals, unleashing murderous hell… and reading novels in his spare time. Can his petrified creator stop this reign of horror before his girlfriend gets the chop?

A James Dean-inspired creature, thereby making them a queer icon? Masterful. The creature being “born on the wrong side of the lab?” A stroke of genius; that they’re called a kid puts the poignancy of the monster’s plight into even greater relief, while simultaneously emphasizing their tragic charm. The clear distinction between Frankenstein and the creature? Reader, I exhaled in a cathartic release of tension. The loving detail that the creature reads novels in their spare time, like any other leather-jacket wearing, motorcycle-riding ruffian with a heart of gold? Beautiful.

Truly, the obvious queer energy of this cover and summary highlights an overlooked dimension of Shelly’s great work while also paying homage to what draws us to this Modern Prometheus time after time. Do we care about the petrified creator in this summary? Not at all. He’s not on the cover, appearing both rebellious and gentle. We are here for the creature, in their leather jacket, on their motorcycle, novel sticking out of a back pocket on their jeans, ready to whisk us away to a place where even monsters like us can find solace, and be at peace, and commune with each other. We need only take their outstretched hand, and be willing to leave the mundane world for something better, for the chance to no longer be alone.

#books #art #classic works #i'm going to purchase a copy of that frankenstein cover and no one will stop me

15 notes · View notes

ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

Carpe Noctem

Author: Silent-Fields

Year: 2010

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Richmond, Anthrax & Ebola

Richmond watched as the children of the night careened about in a haze of smoke, extending their pale arms towards Heaven and Hell. After weeks of careful research, tonight was the night Richmond had decided to set out and experience his first goth club. He had chosen Pandora's Box because it offered two rooms spinning various genres, a lounge, and a very extensive bar. He was in the gothic room at the moment, enjoying the contrast of ethereal female vocals with demonic male ones echoing from the club's speakers. With his last few paychecks as Project Executive, Richmond built himself up an extensive wardrobe, favoring mostly Victorian and Edwardian inspired styles, but liking the cuts on many of the more modern clothes as well. Most of his old clothes were then donated, but he did keep a few pieces. A purple dress shirt did look quite nice with a black tie. For his debut he wore a black frock coat, a black ruffled shirt whose cuffs dangled just enough over his hands to be dramatic but not a hindrance, and a maroon waistcoat. Black trousers and pointed boots completed his outfit. He had recreated the eye make-up he had done for Denholm's father's funeral, but chose to simply line his lips' natural shape rather than draw them into a frown. He wanted to be approachable, trying for subtle indifference with a hint of misery for tonight's look. His parents had been more upset about his demotion than his new lifestyle. "You always liked The Addams Family and Tim Burton movies," his mother said with a shake of her head. "And there was that time your father took you to see Kiss. But Richmond dear, can you still support yourself?" Richmond had enough savings to cover any emergencies that may arise within the next few months and tended to live rather frugally, so the lower pay hadn't really bothered him. What had been surprising was how much more comfortable he was now, finding solace in the shadows of the night after years of corporate competition under harsh florescent. Richmond had been so lost in reminiscing that he didn't notice two girls approaching him until they were right in front of him. The taller of the two was wearing a long black velvet dress with bell sleeves, her wavy blonde hair flowing over both her shoulders. The shorter girl's black hair was pinned back with spider shaped sliver clips, and she wearing a black knee-length tank dress with zippers on the straps, fishnet stockings, and combat boots. Both wore matching necklaces, a silver dagger on a satin cord that stopped at the tops of their breasts. Drinks in hand and small purses on their shoulders, they introduced themselves. "Hello, I'm Ebola.” said the blonde, her manner stoic. "And I'm Anthrax." said the other, her tone equally void of emotion. "Richmond." He replied with a bow. Oh dear, should I have created pseudonym? Alabaster? No, sounds silly. Ammonite? Possibly too obscure. Maybe I should have used my last name, it does sound a bit more gothic . . . "We haven't seen you here before, is this your first time?" Anthrax asked, interrupting his thoughts. "Oh yes, yes it is." "They seem to be playing older stuff tonight, not a bad night to drop in. Would you care to join us in the lounge?" Richmond nodded and Anthrax's lips curled upwardly slightly, flashing the tips of a pair of fangs as she turned toward the door. Richmond followed as the girls effortless weaved their way through the dancing patrons towards the lounge. They sat on a vacant purple velvet settee while Richmond sat in an adjacent chair, the table in front of them covered with ashtrays and empty glasses. Candlelight and black fabric draped from the ceiling surrounded them. Ebola sat her glass down and fished a cigarette and lighter out of her purse while Anthrax and Richmond held on to their drinks. "So Richmond, what do you do?" Ebola asked, lighting her cigarette. She held up her free hand before he could reply. "Wait, let me guess. Computer programmer? No no, graphic designer." Richmond furrowed his brow in confusion. "Nearly every guy here works with computers," Anthrax explained. "It provides a relaxed office dress code and a pay check that supports the lifestyle." "Oh. Um, I work in IT." It felt odd saying that, as Richmond still had no idea what kind of work he was expected to do. Though it is quite nice working in the basement. "Ah." Anthrax took a sip of her drink, something dark red. "The bartender here is quite excellent, always coming up with some new delicious and deadly cocktail. I see you've gone with The Green Fairy." "I quite like absinthe." Richmond replied with perhaps too much enthusiasm. He was drinking a cocktail of the previously mentioned bartender's own design. While lounge was relaxing, Pandora's Box was primarily a dance club, and did not lend itself to melting sugar cubes into luminous green filled glasses, so he settled for a mixed drink that contained some of his favorite liquor. "Oh I'm sure you'll meet him eventually." Ebola said, rolling her eyes. Richmond looked quite confused. "Absinthe is the owner and operator of a S&M club nearby." Anthrax explained. "It's members only with the exception of a few events throughout the year." She looked him up and down. "You could probably become a member without too much difficulty." "Oh I see." Richmond wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to interpret that statement. "Um . . . are you members?" "Yes." Ebola replied, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Why, are you interested?" "Not now, maybe one day." Richmond shifted and took a sip of his drink. He noticed Anthrax looking him again and he suddenly wondered if maroon was too bright of a colour for the occasion. "This isn't just your first time here is it?" she asked. "It's your first time out a goth club." Richmond blinked. "Oh dear, was it obvious?" "A bit" she replied, her fangs once again peeking out over her near smile. "Oh. Well I am still feeling my way around the culture." he admitted "It does get associated with a lot of different things." Anthrax commented. "How did you become interested in the lifestyle?" Ebola asked, placing her cigarette on the closest ashtray. "Cradle of Fifth." he replied, hiding his grin with a sip of his drink. "May I ask you two what interested you in becoming goth?" "Sure," Ebola said with a shrug. "For Anthrax it was The Hunger, that film with David Bowie as a vampire and Susan Sarandon's lesbian scene. If that wasn't enough the moment we start the film she's shaking me asking 'What's this song? Who's that bloke in the cage??'" Anthrax glared at Ebola. "You're the one with the thing for David Bowie." She turned to Richmond, "My older brother was into the scene as well so I'd often watch him put on his make-up before he went out and developed an interest from there. As for Ebola, she fancied my brother." "That wasn't the only reason, you cow." She glared back at Anthrax before replying. "I always loved Lydia's outfits in Beetlejuice, I wanted to dress like her every day. But it was so distressing to see her so happy and normal looking at the end of the film." "Oh yes, I agree. Even if the song is very catchy." Richmond swirled his drink in his glass, watching the bright green whirlpool, wondering what question to ask next. Perhaps they know someplace that provides a more appropriate atmosphere for drinking absinthe . . . Ebola reached for her cigarette, noticing a man walking quickly past them. "Good Evening, Lord Catalyst." she called out. The man froze and turned around with a grimace on his face. He was dressed similar to Richmond, but had chosen to accessorize with a top hat and cane. "You two!" he said with a slight twitch, pointing his finger accusingly. He turned to Richmond dramatically, his cape swirling to match his movement. "Take heed my dear fellow! They are harpies, who will snatch away your soul!" He glared at the two girls on the settee. "I do not mean this as a compliment!" "Oh fuck off!" Ebola hissed. "Or shall we tell him why you're so uncomfortable around us?" Lord Catalyst jumped, his twitch increasing in intensity, and scuttled away. Both girls exchanged a look and a snicker before turning to Richmond. "I'm sorry Richmond. We . . . collect boys on occasion but tonight we were just looking for conversation," explained Anthrax. "Though you are very handsome.” Ebola added. "That's quite alright. I must say, you both have beautiful skulls." "Thank you," they replied in unison. They spent the rest of the evening chatting away in the lounge, occasionally getting up to dance when a song came on that the girls insisted Richmond must dance to. Soon the antique grandfather clock in the lounge struck three, signaling that the evening was at an end. "You've both been very helpful. Thank you." said Richmond as they exited the club, trying not to smile. "There isn't a goth rule again smiling, Richmond." Ebola said with a laugh. "Just don't make it a regular habit." After exchanging phone numbers and email addresses the group went their separate ways, with the promise to meet again soon. ----------------------------------- For the first couple of years they were always out together; going to clubs and films and tea parties in graveyards, meeting up to chat and shop and dance. Anthrax and Ebola quickly discovered Richmond had no trouble pulling, his shy demeanor combined with his theatrical delivery proved highly amusing and rather attractive to both goths and non-goths of all genders. Sometimes they would meet just to compare notes on their various conquests. As the years went on Richmond began to come out less and less, mainly communicating by email and only occasionally by phone. He would still show up to major events and travel with them for Whitby, but Richmond slowly withdrew into his own world as Anthrax and Ebola continued to venture out in to the night. ----------------------------------- Neither Ebola nor Anthrax had seen Richmond for months and after weeks of persistent emails and phone calls, he agreed to come out. Before heading to Pandora's Box they decided to meet up at a near by cafe, sitting in a booth in the back corner, for privacy as well as ambience. Always a gentleman, Richmond waited until the girls had settled before sitting down. Anthrax sat near the wall, dangling her fingers over the table candle as she waited for her tea bag to steep. Ebola stirred her coffee, watching the creamer swirl. Both waited silently, wanting Richmond to speak first. He stared at his coffee, watching the stream curl out of the mug for a while before speaking. "My old boss committed suicide. He just jumped out of a window one day." Anthrax gasped and Ebola jumped slightly. That wasn't the whole story of course, but Richmond didn't feel like explaining that the pensions at Reynholm Industries had been tampered with for years and if Denholm had chosen to think about it, there had probably been an easy way to fix them. But Denholm has always been impulsive and unpredictable, up until the last moments of his life. "The one that demoted you?" Ebola asked carefully. Richmond nodded, still not looking up at either of them. "I slept with him shortly before it happened. It wasn't anything serious; I knew that before we did anything. In a way it sort of felt like closure." Richmond took a slip of his coffee, continuing to look at the table. "I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral, but at the time it didn't really bother me. As the weeks went on though, I found myself becoming rather depressed." "How are they treating you at work?" asked Anthrax. "Oh much better, I'm allowed out during daytime hours now. I still don't talk to my coworkers much - don't really see a reason to. I'm just sort of . . . there." Richmond looked up, saw two pairs of sympathetic looking milky lenses, and looked back down. "I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now." Ebola looked at Anthrax, biting her lip slightly. They searched each other eyes for the right words. Today it was Anthrax's turn to have the epiphany, eyes widening as she turned to face Richmond once more. "Richmond, do you remember the last thing that came out of Pandora's Box?" Richmond looked up from his drink at Anthrax, allowing his frown to become one of confusion rather than despair. She reached across the table and took hold of one of his hands. "It was hope." Richmond blinked, his mouth forming a silent "Oh". Ebola reached across and took hold of his other hand, both girls squeezing before letting go. The friends finished their drinks in a comfortable silence. "I think it's the industrial room tonight my dears." Ebola said as she began to rise out of the booth. "We can dance the night away and count how many times someone samples Dune." "No complaints here." Richmond replied, waiting until Anthrax was out of the booth before standing, trailing behind them both as they walked toward the front. "Oh Richmond we must tell you about this ridiculous boy we met at The Black Spider." Anthrax turned as he held the cafe door open. "He looked a bit like you but lacked your depth. When we asked him what his favorite song was he said it was Gary Numan's Dominion Day." Richmond sneered slightly as he followed her out. "First time?" "First and last, thankfully." And so the friends set out to drink and dance, extending their arms towards the infinite possibilities that lay ahead of them, capturing the night in their pale hands.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #richmond avenal #anthrax #ebola #anthrax & ebola #the it crowd #it crowd

4 notes · View notes

equalitae · 7 years

Text

L i k e I W o u l d ( I )

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Angst, (Not completely, but the tension) smut

Song to suggest: Like I Would - ZAYN

Synopsis: I was doomed from the very moment I met him.

It was a mistake that I didn’t regret, but that I profoundly wanted to undo in the deepest part of my heart. I tried my best to untangle myself out of that mess, but he was right.

No one knew me like he did. No one would love me like him.

Word count: 3044

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

I couldn’t breathe.

The air left my lungs like they were being kicked over and over, keeping me in a gasp for help. I felt worthless and vulnerable as I watched the whole world crumbling around me. I thought my heart had stopped beating as soon as I saw how his fingers curled around her golden locks and the way his smile widened his features.

My body was suddenly out of energy, but thankfully nobody noticed my change of mood, since they were all busy finishing the assignment left for today. The history class stopped being interesting when I started to feel like a deflated balloon. It was stupid, though. I shouldn’t have been feeling like this, since I was the one who got out of this mess.

His attentions were once directed towards me. His bright smile and shinning eyes were once caused because of me. Now, he was looking at her like she was a diamond out of a pile of untouched coal. The way he used to laugh at my jokes, was replaced by her lame jokes and his quick responses. I could perfectly listen to the way her voice trespassed his angelic one. I couldn’t help but cringe at it.

Baekhyun was a hot sweetheart, and he knew it really well. His untouched looks and perfect ways carved a path for him to whatever he wanted. He could make you do whatever he felt like just by giving you an innocent smile and a slow wink. The whole campus melted to his charms, drooling over him as he was a dessert; and he knew how to use his power over everyone smoothly.

Even so, the first time we crossed paths, it was a complete accident.

It was an early Sunday morning, free of any class possible, but I still had to wake up quickly because I was running late for work. The little bakery I worked at was really famous between the students, mostly because of the good sweets we made, reason why I had to be there earlier than anyone else.

I ran in the halls, barely holding the strips of my worn-out backpack, feeling the adrenaline rushing through my veins. If I got there late, again, it would be my second call this week and I knew that Kyungsoo wouldn’t let it slip once again. We had been friends of years, basically since we both wore diapers, but since he was the “heir” of the lucrative store, he had to be hard with his employees, no matter what.

As I reached the elevator, I clicked the button quickly, jumping in one foot while I prayed for it to arrive sooner. The metallic doors opened with a bell, and I slipped in it in a hurry, pressing the first floor with annoyance.

“C’mon”, I said to no one in particular. My eyes flickered to the red numbers on the wall, cursing at the damn thing in silence for not being faster. After a while, the doors started to close with an incredibly slow motion, making me grunt in annoyance, until I was stopped.

“Wait!” A male voice shouted. A pair of delicate hands pushed the door open, and a slim figure slipped into the elevator as the doors closed with a muffled sound. He cleaned his hands on his pants, as he took a phone out of his pockets, tapping on it furiously. I stared at him with an arched eyebrow, suddenly interested in his presence.

He had red hair with shades on it and a pair of circled glasses barely clang from the tip of his nose. He had plump lips and a well-shaped jawline that lead to his chiseled neck colored by tattoos and a necklace. I stared at his profile for a couple of seconds more, before taking my phone out to pretend busy myself on something else than him. Soft mumbles left his lips, while he kept tapping on the phone, cursing under his breath occasionally.

He put his phone away and I felt his stare on me, but I decided not to look up. His gaze burned holes on my figure, but I contained myself as much as possible, while I texted Jee, telling her that I was running late so she could cover me till I made it there. Before sending the text, an unexpected shake made the elevator move, making me lose my balance for a second. I felt a pair of long arm holding me by the waist, steading me up.

I looked up, crashing with the red-haired’s smirk, and I felt my cheeks burning as I untangled myself from him.

“What the hell was that?!”, I exclaimed instead, looking at the red numbers. The elevator had stopped in the third floor, and it wasn’t moving or making sounds anymore. I tapped the number furiously but the metallic monster refused to keep working.

“I think we got stuck”, he said, clicking the alarm button several times. I looked at him, just to find him already staring at me. I took a glance at his features, feeling awed by the beauty of them, zoning out for a second. “I feel that this old box just gave his last breath”.

I didn’t answer but nodded instead, still too amused by him to properly think about something to say. He smirked.

“You got a name? Mine is Byun Baekhyun” He extended a hand in my direction, and I stared at it, insecure if I should take it. After debating myself, I shook his hand, giving a soft smile in his direction.

“I’m Y/N”

“Oh, a pretty name for a pretty lady”, Baekhyun said with a semi-smile. I felt my cheeks blush.

“I’ve never seen you before around here. Are you new?” I said before having the chance to hold myself up. He looked at me with another smirk, before shaking his head.

“No, I’m in my second year of arts. I just transferred dorms since my older ones were closed up.”

“Oh.”

“And you? I haven’t seen you around either.” I stared at the wall, not wanting to look at him because I knew I would be drooling in no time.

“I’m in my second year of design.”

He shrugged his shoulders, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “You don’t seem like a designer, though.” I placed a hand over my chest, offended.

“What do you mean?”

“First of all, you’re wearing an uniform and your hair is all over the place. You even have a little bit of toothpaste in the corner of your lips.” I fixed my hair, looking at him badly.

“That doesn’t mean anything. You don’t look like an artist either.”

“Is that so?” He smiled. “Then to which career do I look alike?” I analyzed him, taking my time to admire his well proportionate body that fitted incredibly good in that faded striped shirt and parched pants. He was the image of street fashion, slaying it in every way possible. My mouth was eager to ask him everything to his inspiration to be so well dressed, to ask him where he got his clothes and that if he could let me design clothes for him as well.

I was a fashion sucker, admiring every type of style possible. Baekhyun looked like an artist, there was no doubt of that. His whole essence was living by it, but I couldn’t let him win. Something in him made me want to argue, to make him mad.

“Engineer.”

He gasped.

“En-engineer?” His soft chuckles filled the elevator. “Is that the best you got?” His legs slipped on the floor, as he smoothly sat beside me. “You’re bad at lying, Y/N, but I appreciate the effort to fight me.”

“Shut up”, I said, muffling my cheeks with annoyance. He sighed loudly as he pulled his phone out once again, tapping in the screen with quick movements. His frown was deep and his pouting lips were constantly licked by his tongue as he kept his concentration on the phone. I glimpsed in his direction, before closing my eyes. Kyungsoo was going to kill me and I would get fired. I needed the money, and the idea of getting another job wasn’t of my liking.

We spent a few minutes in silence, both of us emerged in our very own thoughts. I was thinking in ways to beg Soo not to fire me, but it was nonsense. He was going to fucking kick me out and people haven’t seemed to notice that Baekhyun and I were both stuck in this damn elevator.

“You needed to be somewhere, Y/N?” I opened an eye to look at him, before sighing frustrated again.

“At work. This is my second call this week, and now I’m gonna get fired.” I passed a hand over my face harshly. He didn’t answer. “What about you, Baekhyun? What was your destination?”

He stuttered for a second. “Um, I had to meet, um, someone. I’m gonna get my head chopped now, anyways.”

I pouted my lips, thinking. “I see.”

“So, tell me Y/N… Do you want to play 20 questions?” He blurted out.

I chuckled a little. “Isn’t that childish?”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s gonna be fun.” His puppy expression made my spine tingle, and I found myself nodding at him with a small smile. The round of questions was typical, with him asking silly questions and me answering lame things. After a while, his questions tuned up their heat, becoming more and more personal.

“So, now, how do you like your men?” I was taken back by it, eyeing him a little as I wondered around the elevator with sloppy dance moves.

“M-my men? You are talking about my one-night stands?” He nodded effusively, winking at me. I bit my lips, feeling the heat crawling to my cheeks, as I thought about it.

“I’m not sure.”

“How are you not sure?” He jumped, looking amused. “You must have an ideal of what you’re looking for in hunting night, you get me?”

Yeah, like you. I thought, but I didn’t say it out-loud, too conscious of it. “It’s not my thing. I just look and play. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Hmm, that’s new.” He walked lazily in my direction, positioning himself in front of me. He towered over me with grace, looking at me with knowing eyes. I gulped heavily, unsure of what he was doing.

“What about me, sweetheart?” He whispered, getting closer to the soft skin of my ear. His warm breath crashed against my ear, making me quiver in response.

“What do you mean?” I managed to say without stumbling.

“Do you find me as your type?” His plump lips brushed my jawline, as his hands placed in both sides of my head, keeping me caged. I couldn’t think properly with his proximity, the scent of his fading cologne entering to my nostrils with no mercy. His chest was centimeters away from mine and the tips of his hair locks tingled on my skin.

His lips were trailing a way to the front part of my face, but I kept my silence. My mind was all over the place, with him so close to my body and I found myself wanting him even closer. I was about to respond, when I felt the elevator slowly shaking, coming back to life. He smirked once again, winking at me one last time before tearing away from my personal space, leaving me breathless. I hope to see you around, sweetheart”. He said, and exited the machine without me responding.

After that day, I started to notice him a lot more than before. Baekhyun attended to several classes with me, but he tended to sit in the lasts rows. To sleep, I presume. His usual style consisted in ripped jeans and baggy-stained shirts, and yet, he still managed to look out of a modeling magazine. His hair always seemed to be disorganized, almost on purpose; and a pair of glasses never seemed to leave his face. The tattoos on his neck were interesting, and I found myself wanting to explore them.

Baekhyun was apparently one of the most acclaimed boys in the campus, desired and awed by tons of girls every day. I didn’t know why I hadn’t acknowledged him before. The girls followed him like lost puppies, eager to catch a glimpse of his attention, but they always failed at it. He was almost always with a pair of headphones and pencil in hand, doodling things in an art book, lost in his own world.

We barely crossed paths, but when we did, he winked at me with a smirk in his features. I just rolled my eyes, smiling as well, and kept walking, the memories of that elevator fresh on my mind. I felt his eyes burning the back of my head every once in a while, too, but I didn’t dare to catch his eyes. But when I did stare at him, I removed my gaze as quickly as I could, scared that he would notice I was watching him.

Little did I know that he noticed.

It was a Friday, and the bakery was empty at this time of the night. Today it was a free day in college, so I decided to do some extra hours, so I could make up for the elevator emergency. Kyungsoo had being sweet enough to let me stay, but he had warned me it would be the last time. I swore I couldn’t pay my friend enough for his kindness.

It was almost closing time, so I made myself some coffee, enjoying the music playing softly on the background, and reading a book on the counter. The smell of caffeine brought me happiness and I felt more relaxed than before. I concentrated on the scattered words, until the bell of the door chimed.

A red-haired shape appeared on the doorstep, and I felt my body stiffen. Baekhyun was standing there, looking around with curiosity. His clothes consisted in an oversized hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans; his familiar glasses weren’t on his face. His eyes crashed with mine after a few and a soft smile appeared on his features, as he approached to my direction. An art book was left on the counter and he sat right in front of me.

“Y/N.” My name rolled on his tongue. “It’s nice to see you around.” He said, playing with the ring band on his middle finger.

“Baekhyun…” I responded. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“A friend of mine told me about this place. He said the sweets were the best ones out here. You probably know him. His name is Do Kyung-.”

“Kyungsoo, yeah” I interrupted. “He’s one of my oldest friends.” He arched an eyebrow.

“He’s one of my best friends as well. What a small world.” I nodded.

“Tell me, Baekhyun, what can I help you with?”

“You can help me with a lot of things, babe”, he winked. “But by now, bring me your best pastry and coffee. The one of your preference.”

“The one I want?” He nodded, smiling at me for the last time before starting to doodle in his worn-out art book. The lines were smooth, almost unthought, as if he didn’t need to imagine that much to create a masterpiece. I walked to the back door, shaking my head, and I looked for the Gyeongju bread. I took the flat white coffee I was making for myself and placed them both in front of him. He eyed them expressionless, before looking at me.

I pushed them further in his direction, encouraging him to taste them. They were my favorite combination in the world and I wanted to see if I had gotten in his sweet point. He bit the bread, closing his eyes for a second before sipping on his coffee. We were both silent, the music playing on the background. He didn’t speak until he finished his food, and cleaned his mouth with a napkin.

“What do you think?” I asked, anxious. I didn’t know I was so excited to know his opinion, but I examined his face with curiosity. He mumbled a little, with a serious expression on his face.

“I think that this was probably… the best one I have had in a while.” A smiled creeped on his face at my lighted up face. I clapped happily.

“I knew it! This is my favorite combination in taste”

“What other things you like to taste, hm?” His face approached to me, getting really close as he licked his lips softly. His eyes were looking at mine with fire in them, making my legs go like jelly. His hand tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, but his fingers stayed up there for longer than what they needed to be.

“Wha-?” I was interrupted by Baekhyun’s sudden question.

“Would you let me…? I don’t know. Take you out as an act of gratitude?” The words died on my mouth. I was speechless, opening and closing my mouth like an idiot. I didn’t know how to respond, especially since his fingers where softly lingering on my collarbone, making imaginary drawings over my skin. I felt myself shivering, craving his touch, as his soft breath was crashing against my lips. He was that relatively close that could count every little flaw in his face, but I still thought they were… art.

He didn’t wait for answer, as his hand took me by the waist and led me out of there. A smirk still creeping in his face as the cool air of the night hit his face and his hands snickered around the exposed skin of my waist. The sheets ended up tangled between the both of us that night after a couple of drinks and a shameless session of flirting. His hand had trailed every single inch of my body with an extreme carefulness that I felt like a sculpture. His adoration only posed on me, as he scanned me with such a patience that made my head go dizzy and needy. His body heat kept with me all night.

What I forgot to notice, is that was going to end up ruined.

I want to thank you all for the love “Like I Would” has received!

The next part is probably my favorite!

What do you think? If you liked it, please feel free it some love!

Requests are open! Just remember to read the r u l e s before requesting!

See you soon! Sofi, x.

289 notes · View notes

sunnydaleherald · 6 years

Text

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter - Monday, September 17th, 2018

BUFFY: I thought it was gonna be like in the movies. You know, inspirational music ... a montage, me sharpening my pencils, me reading, writing, falling asleep on a big pile of books with my glasses all crooked, 'cause in my montage I have glasses. But real life is slow, and it's starting to hurt my occipital lobe. WILLOW: Aw. Poor Buffy's brain. (Pats Buffy on the head)

~~Out of My Mind~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

The Art Of Distraction (Cordelia/Angel, T) by geckogirl89

Morning Is Broken (T) by beer_good

Helpless (Buffy/Angel, E) by kcblossom

The chips are down and things look grim (Buffy/Xander, E) by telefool

[Chaptered Fiction]

Seeing Her Again Chapter 1 (Faith/Buffy, NR) by rhodrymavelyne

Yours Chapter 2 (Tara/Willow, M) by ed_fox

Flying Chapter 3 (Cordelia/Angel, Buffy/Spike, T) by Jasmine_Shigeru

Ripper, The Vampire Slayer Chapter 13 (Giles/Randall, E) by CantSpeakFae

Chaos continued Chapter 8 (Giles/Ethan, T) by Jaspergirl

Save the Last Dance For Me Complete (Buffy/Spike, E) by Passion4Spike

As You Are Chapter 12 (Buffy & Spike, NR) by Serenitey

My Life is Different Chapter 6 (Buffy/Willow, M) by Schlank

Not Long to Wait Chapter 20 (Dawn/Spike, E) by hulettwyo

Icarus Is Flying (Too Close To The Sun) Chapter 4 (Randall, E) by CantSpeakFae

In death, that I may live Chapter 16 (M) by irishrose2

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Satsu by lgbtcharactersinmedia

Artwork: Part 3 of my Buffy series, Willow by dhsantiago

Artwork: Spoke Art has released a poster for Buffy the Vampire Slayer designed by Tracie Ching by brokehorrorfan

GIFs: I don’t have a destiny. I’m destiny-free. by wrappedinplastic

GIFs: Buffy by camilacabeilo

[Reviews & Recaps]

Buffy rewatch: First Date (7.14) by elsalapizza

Comic Book Review: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 12: The Reckoning #4 by Phillip Pratt

PODCAST: Checkpoint/Blood Money by Once More With Commentary

PODCAST: 82 ReVisiting Sunnydale: Out Of My Mind S5 E4 by ReVisiting Sunnydale

[Recs]

Spuffy Fanfiction Recommendations by seriouslyobsessed

[Community Announcements]

Sunnydale Fanfic Club by beer_good_foamy

[Fandom Discussions]

Not to ignore the path that led up to that moment by cantspeakfae

Oh BTW this show features a bespectacled middle-aged British librarian by smallgirlafterall

I agree that the destruction of Buffy and Giles’ relationship was a travesty by cantspeakfae

I don’t think we’ll ever have an answer to this by cantspeakfae

It’s actually Liam/Angelus/Angel by cantspeakfae

I like to think that Spike and Dawn are friends by cantspeakfae

I enjoy Spike as a character, but the idea that he was “good” by cantspeakfae

Not sure why this thought about Buffy just popped in my head by sequinedk

S3x01 - Anne x Cordelia looks by sunnydalebeautysupply

had a revelation last night! by fandomsofagrrrl

Should Buffy have forgiven herself about Angelus? by BuffyBot22

Did Dawn create Spuffy? by MarieVampSlayer

Only caring about half of your ship by spikenbuffy

Why so much hate on Angel? by MarieVampSlayer

In Something Blue Spike is looking for the entrance to the Initiative by flow

Positives And Negatives Angel Season 3

Watching Buffy for College English: UPDATE by ReeseRavio

Where is Joyce in Season 4? by j8l7e

One episode per season? by lilys00

Episode 116 (S6 E16): Hell's Bells by AutoModerator

Episode 60 (S3 E16): Sleep Tight by AutoModerator

Chinese Torture: Buffy and Faith's rave music by TheCoolKat1995

Awesome Buffy (Hush) necklace from Etsy arrived today! by mmd0333

Watching Buffy and Angel consecutively for the first time, what's the best episode order? by cwhagedorn

Music in season 5 by stk3702

Eliza Dushku marries Peter Palandjian in Boston by __theyarenotyou

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: David & J. August Richards reunion at Emmy Party! by VCA

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #fic #art

0 notes

lamaisongaga · 7 years

Photo

FASHION CREDITS: “JUDAS” MUSIC VIDEO

Directed by the Lady Gaga herself and co-directed by Laurie Ann Gibson, the “Judas” music video takes us back to a Gaga-fied version of Jerusalem.

Stylist by Nicola Formichetti and Sophia Phonsavahn. Makeup by Val Garland, hair by Frederic Aspiras and manicure by Aya Fukuda.

And when it was day, he called unto him his disciples: and of them he chose twelve, whom also he named apostles… Simon, renamed to Peter (meaning rock). Andrew, his brother. James and John. Brothers named Bo-aner’ges – “sons of thunder”. Philip. Bartolomew. Matthew, the tax collector. Doubting Thomas. James. Thaddeus. Simon. And Judas. The one who later betrayed H.I.M.

One-of-a-kind leather jackets created for the video by Tom Tom Fashions! Their biker helmets were custom-made by Alun Davies.

Mary Magdalene is wearing a bespoke purple version of the same catsuit she wore on Mugler’s Fall/Winter 2011 “Anatomy of Change” runway.

Her purple satin hooded cape and velvet bell-bottom pants are custom-made by Perry Meek.

Large square cuff and crystal-embellished gold belt by Erickson Beamon.

Marianna Harutunian is the mastermind behind both Mary Magdalene's hand-made crown with Swarovski crystals, 24k gold-plated with over 30 crosses on it...

...and matching 24k gold-plated winged cross cuff.

Her heart shades were hand-made in solid 14k gold by Jack’s Eyewear.

Jesus, played by Rick Gonzales, wears a 24k gold-plated thorn crown with hand-carved metal spikes and covered with tiny Swarovski crystals.

His necklace is by Erickson Beamon and it features more than 70 silver, gold and bronze finish, plus Swarovski crystals-embellished crosses.

He also wears a Perfecto jacket by Schott NYC and a bespoke hooded cape by Ayumi Shibata for SLOW.

For the first dance scene Gaga rocks a red velvet bra and matching panties with golden crosses by Perry Meek.

Her red sarong is custom-made by Raquel Allegra (just like the dancers’ outfits) and the red velvet ankle booties from Shoes for the Stars.

Gaga wore two looks from Christian Lacroix’ archives for the video.

Firstly, the black corseted jacket with turtledove faille sleeve “armor-plated” with an embroidered dark gemstone arabesque and ruched black tulle facing is from his Fall/Winter 2008 collection.

She also wears opaque tights by Capezio which she wears mostly throughout the video, boots by Alexander McQueen (more about those later) and a ring by The Dragon Lady.

For the chorus’ dance scene inside the “Electric Chapel”, Gaga wears the black version of the aforementioned Perry Meek velvet cross bra and panties, a Perfecto leather jacket by Schott NYC and tights by Capezio.

Her thigh-high black leather platform boots with silver-tone hardware are from Alexander McQueen’s Fall/Winter 2011 collection.

The dancers wear layered pieces by Raquel Allegra, NOKI and Ayumi Shibata for SLOW.

Please meet Hell’s Angel. This is the name of the blue leather outfit with bandana-lined hood and fringe details custom-made by Alex Noble.

This piece also features several golden studs, a buckled waist and a sacred heart in the middle stitched with Swarovski crystals and studs.

Same Capezio tights and Alexander McQueen boots.

Here’s a look of the dancer’s distressed costumes designed by Los Angeles-based designer Ayumi Shibata for SLOW, inspired by their vintage collection.

Next, Gaga steps onto the stage wearing a dark green velvet catsuit and matching pope-inspired headpiece by Perry Meek.

The red rosette faux fur coat was designed by Adrienne Landau.

She also rocks a cross necklace, The Dragon Lady pearl-embellished cross ring and Mugler Fall/Winter 2011 ponyhair heels.

For the bathtub scene, Gaga wears another bespoke dark-green velvet two-piece by Perry Meek. Tights are the aforementioned ones by Capezio.

Her vintage Versace chain and medusa coin bracelet was gifted to her by a Japanese little monster. I was only able to find a similar version of it.

Gaga’s gold metallic charmeuse dress with gold metallic netting was custom-made by LAPOINTE.

The jewel piece she wears is actually a bolero from Erickson Beamon’s “Mist of Avalon” collection. Gaga wore the bolero part of this jewel (sans the chain mail underneath) as a necklace.

Her meticulously crafted bridal gown in “Dove Breast” satin with “Paseo” embroidered lace dickey and pinafore skirt. Big sleeves haloed in illuminated tulle and knotted in pale candy pink faille - Fall/Winter 2008 Haute Couture show finale number by Christian Lacroix.

The beautifully crafted brass crown with cross and gemstones is archive Erik Halley and tights by Capezio.

Her wrist-length white lace gloves with oversized ruffled cuff and half fingers are custom by Wing & Weft Gloves.

She also wears custom Underground creepers with white scalloped leather detail (basic version pictured above).

45 notes · View notes

inleaguefc-ffxiv · 7 years

Text

storms

Cast: @emerydell; @thepiratesdaughter-ffxiv; Kitty Dell; @inleaguefc-ffxiv

Saoirse

“Bugger,” she exhaled a curse.

Saoirse had just escaped the onslaught of a sudden summer evening storm by ducking under the overhang provided by the Kraken’s Maw’s sloping roof. Escaped, of course, can be a highly subjective verb. The small hand that shot out to stop the alehouse’s front door from closing behind an exiting patron and everything attached to it was little dryer than drowned. In the other she clutched at the glass ring handle of her father’s empty growler.

“But these storms do like to roll in without so much as a knock the door, don’t they?”

Her mutter was for Kitty, who she assumed was behind the bar at this hour, on this night of the Moon, without looking up from the bottom hem of the billowy cotton blouse that she was trying to twist dry as she shoved the door closed behind her with a booted foot. It was Kitty’s night, after all. That was the only reason she’d agreed to venture out to collect Old Byrne’s liquid crutch.

She could have gotten it anywhere else, truth be told. The Maw was certainly not the only alehouse in Limsa Lominsa. It wasn’t even the nicest one. Unfortunately for her, her father was a creature of habit… and he may have liked Baderon at the Drowning Wench even less than he’d liked Richard Dell or his whelp of a boy, were it possible.

Byrnes an’ Dells been havin’ fallin’ outs since afore you was a coin in me pocket and a twinkle in yer mother’s smile, she’d been told. Ain’t no sense in avoidin’ decent swill over it. Be a good girl, now; go on.

Be a good bloody girl.

“Kit…?” Her eyes finally found the counter.

Kitty

Well lucky Saoirse. It was indeed Kitty’s night to work! The calendar behind the bar was always covered in a series of scratches and scrawls designating who was working when, and the younger Dell sibling had been on call for the last two nights. The Maw was surprisingly lively at the moment. Two large, burly Roegadyn looked about two seconds away from being at one another’s throats. One raised a hand to strike the other, only to be hit by a burst of ice from the direction of the bar. It had sprung from the hand of the pastel-haired little slip of a thing, who wiped her palm half-heartedly on her apron. “You boys best take that outside, now,” Kitty remarked. “Just because my brother’s not here doesn’t mean the rules change.”

As the two Roes trundled their way back outside, one drunkenly swearing, the other threatening to beat him for calling his mother something unkind, the hubbub died down, and Kitty was back to polishing glasses behind the bar. At least until she spotted a familiar blonde heading her way. Ah-ha. She’d known Saoirse would show her pretty little face sooner or later. It was hard to bite back a smirk, what with the memories of Emery’s diary fresh in her head, but she managed.

“Saoirse! C'mere! You’ve got to try this new stuff we’ve got!” Vibrant as ever, her voice devoid of the pirate’s drawl that marked her brother’s speech, Kitty beckoned her friend over. As soon as they were close enough to hear one another over the dull roar of the patrons, she leaned over the bar, until her feet lifted off the ground and she was balancing on her hands and waist. “K'lani brought it back from the east. They make it from rice. How wild is that?”

Saoirse

Rowdy Roegadyn. It was hardly a scene that she was unaccustomed to, having grown up the source of the pitter-patter of curious, childhood feet that filled the Coral Tower while her father was at sea. She may have pulled her arms into a cross over her chest as they begrudged their hostess’s icy scolding, but other than the idle swing of a growler and the arch of a golden brow, they got no reaction from her.

What did get a reaction from her was Kitty’s remark. Just because my brother’s not here… Twelve be praised! Saoirse’s shoulders dropped a full ilm or better, which she sort of furrowed her brow at. How long had she been holding them with such rigidity? And who in all of the Hells did Emery Dell think he was, inspiring such tension in her? A scowl tugged at her bottom lip before she realized it. Though quickly rectified, it was all by itself a telling slip in her composure.

“Rice?” At least she could use what ever strange concoction Kitty was about to try to pawn off on her as an excuse for the look on her face. The healer dropped her arms to her sides before making quick work of the short distance between she and the living effervescence on the other side of the counter. Or rather on the counter, sort of… leaning over things is hard work, when you’re short. At just five fulm, three ilm, she could relate, even if she wasn’t half as amusing as Kitty was about overcoming the obstacle. “How on Hy – I suppose that rice can be fermented, too, but…”

A nimble step saw her planted neatly – wetly, but neatly – atop the bar stool across from the thaumaturge.

“Maybe they can’t grow grapes, there. Maybe their bees don’t make honey.” Now you’ve done it, Kit. Watch her brain wander off down this path, and it’ll be at least another thirty minutes before she comes back around to a place where she might be prodded for more information as to the mooning in your brother’s journal.

Kitty

A tiny porcelain cup was plucked from somewhere under the bar, along with a small white decanter. “Here, give it a try. It’ll at least warm you. You need a towel?” Brilliant blues, the spitting image of her brother’s, cast towards the nearest window, which overlooked the sea. It was dark, but a flash of lightning brightened the night long enough for her to see the magnitude of the storm. Concern wrinkled her normally carefree brow. “The Tides’ due in maybe…oh, I don’t know, half a bell ago? Emery’s coming back from another acquisition trip…” Every time a storm hit while her brother was at sea, it stirred up memories of the day her mother got the bad news, the way she had crumpled on the floor in the sitting room and wept until Aunt Josephine got her to drink enough strong ale to sleep.

Her head shook, and Kitty was back in reality, pouring rice wine into the cup and passing it towards Saoirse. “Anyroad. It’ll burn like hellfire for a quick second, but it settles mellow enough in your belly. K'lani says they’ve got plenty of honey, so I don’t know why they decided to ferment rice. You can ask my brother, he’ll know more.”

Delicate fingers snatched up the growler, and she made a face at it. “Your father came in…what, several days ago? Scared the sense out of Emery for a minute, for whatever reason, even though he was just here to settle up his tab. He must’ve run it up into the hundreds again. Peculiar, since I know my brother’s giving him the equivalent of coeurl piss instead of the good stuff.” Yes. Let’s talk about Emery. Though that nervous glance towards the water…Kitty really was concerned, even as she began to pry at the latest, delicious puzzle that was her big brother’s stupid schoolboy crush.

Saoirse

“What? I…”

A towel? What would she need a towel for? Saoirse glanced down at the tangle of leather necklace and bone choker that sat pretty against her damp skin where her blouse cut away from her chest in a wide V-shape. The feeling of rain seeping out of the braids that held her hair behind her head and trickling down the side of her neck reminded her that she wasn’t in the Far East, taking some academic survey of its agricultural possibilities, but rather a sopping little sea rat at home in Limsa Lominsa.

“… yes, thanks. A towel would be…” Helpful. That was what she meant to say. It was stolen right out of her lungs by Kitty’s momentary fret. One pair of blue eyes followed the other’s path for the window, only they lingered there a little longer.

“Half a bell ago, you said?”

Not even she could tell whether the way her chest refused to rise was a product of wanting desperately to be gone prior to Emery’s homecoming or some unconscious concern of her own for his safety. The sea when volatile as it could be in a storm cared little for whether its victims were pirates or privateers, smugglers or import merchants. If there was a family in La Noscea who didn’t know it too intimately, she hadn’t met them.

Saoirse let Kitty take possession of her father’s growler, then absently downed the rice wine in a single shot. Her eyes were still fixed on the window as she cleared her throat. The first and second fingers on her right hand rolled the small, porcelain cup back and forth over the pad of her thumb.

“Not so peculiar, really,” she murmured. “I asked him for the coeurl piss. Father can’t tell the difference, anymore, but I’ll wager his liver can. Scared the sense out of him, did he? And it was just about the tab?”

Kitty

Helpful indeed. The girl needed about twelve towels by Kittys’ reckoning, but one would do the trick. A clean, dry towel from somewhere behind the bar was offered out, but she was watching Saoirse’s face. “Half a bell ago. I mean, he usually takes a few more moments to make sure the cargo’s unloaded, but…” Kitty tapped her ear. “Linkshell. He’s got me linked in to the crew. I tried to check in with him, but he’s not answering.” The worst part was that none of this was a lie. “I mean, I suppose he could just be too busy to answer, or trying to hurry so he can get out of the rain, maybe. Though I haven’t checked with K'lani.” Outside, the waves crashed and the skies flickered with electricity.

Slowly Kitty dragged her attention back towards Saoirse. “You know, come to think of it…” Come to think of it. Kitty had to find a way to disguise her growing grin, so she retrieved a second small cup and poured herself some of the rice wine, downing it quickly to wipe her expression clean. A little trick she’d learned from friends in Ul'dah. “My brother was hollering some of the most ridiculous stuff. Something about how people aren’t things and you can’t own them? And the way he was acting…I’ve never seen him afraid to throw out somebody who’s a little too in their cups, but Emery looked like he was ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. Of course, he had no idea I was watching him.” She jabbed a finger upwards, towards the part in the ascending staircase where it split off into the siblings’ home. The landing overlooked the bar.

Saoirse

Now, the seaside city-state’s sunnier days had never been given the chance to turn Saoirse’s fair skin the shade of golden-brown that so many others wore. She spent the hours that they spent outdoors curled up under some shade or another with some old tome or another, so on the rare occasion that her face paled, it was no mild pallor. The pink in her cheeks that had been brought on by the sting of the rain drained out of them with Kitty’s note as to an unresponsive linkshell connection.

Her response was to return the cup she was fidgeting with to the counter with a gentle tap. She refilled it herself.

“I’m sure that everything is fine. Emery and K'lani have sailed the Rhotano in these storms a hundred times over.” Whether or not they had, she couldn’t say, but it was the kind of thing they’d all been taught to repeat until they believed in it, like some holy incantation that would see their loved ones home safely. It was what she was supposed to say.

She pulled her distant stare out of the window and leveled Kitty with eyes that were just a little bit wider than they usually were as she recounted the incident between Old Byrne and Young Dell.

“He said… what? Oh… dear Twelve, Emery,” Saoirse groaned, dropping her forehead into the palm of her free hand. “Please tell me that it didn’t come to blows.”

Kitty

Kitty noticed the pallor, and something tugged at her impish little heart. Her jests were all in good fun, and what she’d been planning on doing was giving Emery a nice, hard time about his desire for the ultimate forbidden fruit. But you know? Saoirse did care for him. Maybe not in the way that Emery wished that she did, but it was obvious from the way the blonde paled and drank that there was something there.

The thaumaturge-in-training softened her approach. "They have,” she echoed. “Emery especially. Back in his pirate days. Oh, did I say pirate? Back in his chef days.” Oh, she’d never get tired of that.

“No, there were no blows. Your father just underpaid his tab and left, muttering some nonsense about his growler and his property and his gil. Emery, though…I watched him. He downed a pint of our best ale and told me to watch the bar for the night. Something about needing to make things right. I have no idea what he did, but when he came back, he seemed satisfied, and then a few days later he was at sea again.”

A crackle from the linkshell caught Kitty’s attention. One hand raised to her ear, the other motioning for Saoirse to hold on for the moment. “K'lani? What happened?” Blues went wide, her own expression now frightened. “What? The ship? Is Emery okay?” For a tense moment the words hung in the air, and then Kitty’s shoulders slumped. Heartbreak? No. Relief. “That bloody idiot. What’s so important that he didn’t abandon ship?” Pause. “Tea?! When he gets here he’ll wish the Rhotano took him!”

Arms crossed over her chest, Kitty turned back to Saoirse. “Well, my brother’s fine, but the Tides’ seen better days. Lightning hit the mast when they were maybe a half malm from the docks. Everyone else just leapt overboard and met the rescue patrol halfway, but he stayed. Something about some rare tea. Yellowjackets pulled him up just off the fishing docks clutching this box like it was his life.”

Saoirse

A smirk gave her mouth a half-hearted twist as she caught on to the fact that she had gone from comforter to comfortee. Kitty was too clever a creature for her own good. She always had been. Saoirse tossed back that second shot.

“His pirate days, indeed.” She would never get tired of that, either.

Warmth gradually bled back into her cheeks, but it was gradual. At least until certain gears began to turn and cogs began to catch in her head. From ‘people aren’t things and you can’t own them’ through 'make things right’ and 'at sea again,’ the scholar began to sum the picture problem before her, hoping all the while that she was wrong. Surely Emery didn’t think that he could just…

The conclusion she’d been about to jump to was halted by the rise of Kitty’s hands and the sound of a familiar name. Again, her chest refused to rise, and if she was turning blue by the time the linkshell went quiet, again, the rational part of her wouldn’t be at all surprised. That’s what you get for not breathing. Her fingers closed a white-knuckled fist around the circumference of the empty cup in her hand, and she waited. Impatiently.

Many of Kitty’s questions echoed between Saoirse’s ears, in part because she was silently asking them, too, and in part because she couldn’t hear the answers K'lani was giving to them, so they just… sat there, demanding satisfaction. The ship? Is Emery okay? What’s so important that he didn’t abandon ship? Tea. Tea?!

There it was. It was hardly the first time he’d brought something from his travels back for her – she didn’t imagine that the tea was for her father, though… oh, Gods. Had Emery told Old Byrne the truth? Was that why he felt that a gift was necessary in order to make amends? What was she in for at home the next time the old man sobered up long enough to make coherent noise? – Click, click, boom.

'That bloody idiot’ wasn’t strong enough a sentiment.

Somehow, Saoirse managed to stay in her seat. She relinquished her death grip on the poor little porcelain cup and reached for the towel that had been offered to her, instead, which she pressed into her wet hair before reaching up to begin pulling pins out of it. “You don’t mind if I stay a while, do you?” she sighed, glancing back toward the window as though the weather ever could have kept her hostage. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon.”

Kitty

“Now, do you want to stay for the warmth and the dry, or do you want to give Emery a piece of his mind when he shows up? Because either way, you know you’re welcome. I’ll do up the guest room for you if you’d like.” Kitty was physically trembling, and she leaned heavily on the bar, her chin dropping to her chest. “There’s still some stew left if you’re hungry, I can warm it up for you. Don’t worry, Mother made it.” Kitty was as bad in the kitchen as Emery was good. Inhale, exhale. Deep, slow breaths. She looked as though she was gathering her wits.

The door slammed open, and pink-and-purple hair flew about as she jerked her head up, prepared to give her older brother a tongue lashing. But no, it was just a lone Lalafell, a merchant from the looks of him, coming in for a drink. “Excuse me, Saoirse. Duty calls.” Kitty slipped from behind the bar to greet the diminutive man, who immediately began to regale her with what looked like quite the tall tale, judging from his gestures.

Emery

And then the door slammed open a second time, and in strode Emery Dell. Much like his beloved ship, he had certainly seen better days. Sodden curls were stuck to the back of his neck and the sides of his face. Though he had paused at the doorstep to scrape his boots, he still tracked in a little mud, and his drenched shirt and pants dripped water with every step. Tucked beneath one arm was the precious box that he had apparently risked his life to rescue, but it seemed like it would hold an awfully small quantity of tea. Kitty turned her head from the Lalafell, and Emery’s mouth opened.

“Aye, I know what yer gonna say, so spare me the whippin’. Look, this box ain’t what you–”

Blues landed on the blonde at the bar. His heart did something akin to a mild seizure.

“Saoirse. Ah. Some storm we’re havin’, ain’t it?”

Saoirse

One. Two. By the time she’d pulled three pins out of her hair, there had been time for each of them to find their breath. Her ire became… conversational.

“Someone should give him a piece of their mind,” Saoirse quipped. “Apparently he’s forsaken his own. Fantastic pirate he’d have made, hm? Doesn’t even know when to jump ship in the interest of another day at sea.”

It bore repeating, at least in her head.

That bloody idiot.

She toyed with the waves in her hair, darkened by the weight of the rain that was still collecting at the ends of it in unpredictable drips and drops. Half of those drips and drops made it onto the towel in one of her hands. The other half fell to the floor from just below her shoulderblades.

Compassion bade her reach out to lift Kitty’s dipping chin, upon which she left a gentle tap.

“There. He’s fine, Kit. K'lani said so, yes? K'lani wouldn’t tell you an untruth, not about your brother. Not after everything your family has done for her. I’m sure he’ll be along – …”

Shortly. And speaking of shortly, in wandered a Lalafellin gent; the kind that looked like he might spend a little extra coin should a pretty girl dote on him a little. Saoirse waved both Kitty and her unnecessary hospitality off. “Don’t bother yourself with all of the trimmings on my account. The fireplace will suit me just fine. Unless my memory fails me, I believe I even have a book sitting around here, somewhere.”

Of course she did. Even if she hadn’t left one behind in a hurry to escape the way Emery’s torture played itself out in his eyes after she’d reacted too swiftly, too strongly to the taste of his ale on her lips and the heat of his hand falling into the dip in her spine and… she lost herself, for a moment. The middle finger on her right hand began to coil damp hair around it without much conscious thought.

Then the door opened again. Roughly, loudly. Her head jerked toward it just in time to catch the beginning of a Dell sibling argument. While her heart leapt into her throat at finding the elder of them quite able to stand on his own two feet, despite some waterlogging, she kept that to herself… mostly. Some shine in a girl’s eye can’t be all tricks of the light.

“Emery,” Saoirse murmured, sliding off of the stool she’d been occupying. She neared him cautiously, but reached out to smooth her towel past the side of his head, from an arm’s length away. “Be nice to your sister.” Kitty

Emery be nice to your sister? More like Kitty be nice to your brother! The younger Dell reached into her apron’s pocket, withdrew her order-taking notebook, and promptly slapped the Maw’s proprietor in the back of the head. “You don’t have the sense the Twelve gave a ship’s rat, Emery Dell!” Kitty scolded, before making way for Saoirse to cut a path to Emery. At least he was laughing.

Emery

And at least he…there we go. Saoirse was in front of him, and he ducked down slightly so she could better get the towel against the curls that had plastered themselves against his scalp. “Now now, the captain goes down with the ship, aye?” The playful wink was meant for Kitty, but the warmth in his tone was purely for Saoirse. “Twas barely any danger to begin with. I could see the shore. Just wanted to make sure all my negotiations weren’t for naught, and that meant salvaging this box right here.” He patted its top, then reached for the towel from Saoirse, but stopped when he noticed what shape she was in.

With Kitty turning her attention back to the customer in the hopes of getting a good tip, Emery turned his smile back to the blonde. “I’d ask for your towel, but looks like you need it as much as I. Night ain’t fit for man nor beast, is it?” The arm’s length still lingered between them, but the smile was as soft and as kind as ever.

“Me poor ship’s gonna need a bit of tender lovin’ care, aye, but it won’t be more than a moon 'fore she’ll be seaworthy again. Guess that means I’m grounded for a little while.” The crate was suddenly presented to Saoirse. “You wanna see what I brought back? It ain’t all tea.”

Saoirse

Laughter escaped her before she could stop it, thanks to Kitty’s antics. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised by the mock abuse. It wasn’t exactly rare. The room suddenly felt warmer, to her, if not in temperature than in hope and heart.

Saoirse’s fingers curled against Emery’s scalp as she attempted to sop up the saltwater holding his unruly crop hostage with her towel. Perhaps they even lingered a tick longer than they needed to. He was busy explaining himself to his sister, surely neither would notice. When Kitty returned to the patronage, and Emery returned to Saoirse, she reminded herself to pull her hand back. The towel was kept in a partial bunch in her fist.

“It’s just a little rain,” she decided, neverminding that it wasn’t just a little. “You’ve been for a swim in the Rhotano. It’s your towel, anyroad; Kit gave it to me from behind the bar.”

Her grey eyes blinked at the crate that was being thrusted before her. Did she want to see what he’d brought back? Really? She lifted an eyebrow at him.

“… upstairs, perhaps. I’m not sure that a bar towel is going to stop you from catching your death, like that.” Emery

The Dells did a small trade in gently harassing one another. When Kitty had returned from Ul'dah with her hair in pastels, Emery had just asked her if she had been attempting to summon a baby blanket and the spell backfired. “Kitty-Cat, keep an eye on the bar for the night, aye? Saoirse and I’ll be upstairs.” And Kitty, bless her heart, didn’t even make a crack about the two of them getting out of wet clothes and warming up together, though she was doubtlessly tempted. Thanks to the Lalafell merchant, who was showing her a small, intricate clockwork box, she kept her mouth shut.

“C'mon, then.” Emery led Saoirse through the rapidly dissipating crowd towards the stairs, up into the true heart of the Dell home. At the top of the stairs, it forked. Dead ahead was the bathroom, to the left was Kitty’s room, and to the right was Emery’s, and it was to the right they went. “You want somethin’ dry to wear? Kitty’s stuff might fit you, or one of my bigger shirts.” Once they were in the bedroom, his shirt immediately came off. Not for the sake of showing off, but for the sake of getting the soaked wool off of his body. The crate, which was much dryer than he was, was placed on the small table beside his bed. In truth, the small bedroom was about 80% bed, tucked into the spot where the roof sloped to create a cozy nook, with a window overlooking the sea.

Saoirse

That was quick.

She found herself up the stairs and ducking into Emery’s room and just as she opened her mouth again to answer his question, executing an abrupt turn so that her gaze was on the crate on the bedside table instead of the slope of his bare shoulders. Its texture was introduced to the observant tips of curious fingers that wanted distracting.

“What ever you have handy is fine,” the blonde breathed. Her head ticked toward her right shoulder, which was usually an indication of inquisitive thought in her. “Not just tea? What other kind of foreign trouble have you brought home?”

Emery

Three large, dry shirts were procured from the small dresser. One was used to dry himself off, one was tossed to Saoirse, and one was spread on the bed to be put on later. There was a faint glow from the lamps of Limsa coming in from the window, but Emery turned on a lamp on his desk as well, filling the room with a warm, golden light. “What else did I bring home? Oh, the usual, filthy diseases and strange ideas.” At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor, despite being keenly aware that Saoirse was in his room with a storm raging outside. It was a scene he’d played out in his head a few times, but those times always ended with her in his bed. He had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case here.

The crate was cool and damp, though its cracks had been sealed up tight with plain wax. Whatever was in there, it was likely much drier than either of the two young hyur who stood awkwardly before one another. Emery’s body was slight but strong, and a tattoo of a kraken graced his right bicep, disappearing underneath a long sleeve as he pulled the dry shirt on and wrapped the one he had been using as a towel around his head like a makeshift turban. A blade was snatched from his belt, twirled deftly between his fingers, and neatly wedged into one of the waxed-up cracks in the crate. “A few samples, and a little somethin’ for you.”

It took a minute or two, but the box was pried open, and he showed her the contents, all dry. Several tea sachets released a delicate floral aroma. A few small citrus fruits looked quite appetizing. Some green stone figurines, a very tightly sealed smaller box labeled 'mochi for Kitty-Cat’ in Emery’s scrawl, and something that sure looked book-like, wrapped in green paper.

Saoirse

“Filthy diseases and strange ideas,” she hummed quiet laughter. “I’m going to tell K'lani you called her that.”

The dry shirt that was tossed at her ended up a flail of fabric that hit the back of her head with a gentle woompf. Saoirse sputtered, pulling it forward and southward, clutching it to her chest for the moment. “Thanks,” was her facetious response. She had half a mind to lob the thing back at him, but that would have meant turning around and catching an eye-full of wiry Dell and inky arm-kraken. Naturally, it seemed in both their best interests that she just keep her eyes on the crate.

His movement just behind and to her left, the one that resulted in the crate’s broken seal, finally pulled her attention up. Two shades of blue met briefly before Emery went about prying his prize open, and while he was busy with that, she turned her back on him again in order to begin pulling various talismans and necklaces off over her head. She set them aside on the bedside table before nimble fingers took to the buttons on her blouse. An inhalation preceded her glance back in the crate’s direction.

The rectangle in green paper widened her eyes, slightly. A book? Was that what it was? That… that wasn’t good. That was a little more significant than tea. What had he done?

“… Emery,” she almost scolded him, though it was too quiet and too hesitant to really be a scolding. “Kit told me that my father was here. I… you didn’t… did you?"

Emery

"Please don’t give K'lani any more reason to insult me,” Emery laughed. “She was there when they fished me up from the docks, yellin’ and shoutin’ about how I’m a bleedin’ idiot. You should’ve seen it. Soaked to the bones, hoppin’ mad at me and the gods and the weather and the sea and probably them Yellowjackets what helped pull me up…last I saw of her she was off to the Wench to drown her woes on account of not wantin’ to, as she put it, catch my stupid.” Truth be told, he knew it had been a dumb decision. But it was also a choice he wouldn’t have made if they had been farther from shore. A half-malm swim? Easy, even with the crate of treasures.

Oh, he knew that she was undressing, unbuttoning her blouse. And he was a gentleman, damn it all, and decided to look at the ceiling instead, its familiar slope. It was good to be home.

“Huh? Oh, your Da. Aye, he was here the day after…the day after.” His sigh expressed his uncertainty over what to think of that day. “I didn’t tell him what happened, you mean? No. I, er, I thought that was why he was here, but he just came on account of his growler and his tab, and to give me my once-a-moon tongue-lashin’ about what a piece of dirt my father was.”

Still not looking at Saoirse while she undressed, he took the green-wrapped rectangle in his hands. “It’s okay, Saoirse. I promise.” How long could he keep her here before she decided her father’s alcohol was a more pressing matter than staying dry? He sat on the edge of the immense bed, the springs giving a slight creak under his weight. The paper rustled as he pulled it back.

Saoirse

She bit back laughter at the way Emery painted his first mate’s reaction to his earlier brush with near hypothermia. White teeth pulled back on her bottom lip for only the wall in front of her to see, but it probably crept into the clearing of her throat, anyroad.

“That sounds like her,” Saoirse obliged. “I can’t say I might have been any less hostile in her position.”

Her fingers paused on the last button of her blouse, and she turned her head to make sure that the other pair of blue eyes in the room had something else to do; just reflex, really. One of those things that comes of a girl having had no other women to share quarters with at home. A shrug preceded the garment’s fall from her slender shoulders.

“… thank you.”

The gratitude was tainted with quiet embarrassment as she forced it out into the open. Though she’d already been promised that all was right, she couldn’t help an addendum.

“And I’m sorry, for…”

For what? For her father’s behavior, certainly. Saoirse had never been able to make heads or tails of the various reasons for which Old Byrne made a parade of his disdain for Emery’s father. They had been weaved into what she was certain were at least partly, if not mostly tall tales. Getting at the truth of them required an act of the Twelve, or so she’d come to believe.

“For that night.”

For her behavior.

Emery

Wow, that ceiling sure was fascinating. Look at its beams and whatnot! There were some over here, and some over there, and they were laced together with thick, heavy rope and–

The apology genuinely caught Emery off guard. He hadn’t been expecting one. Surely she wasn’t apologizing for the night that her drunken father had shown up at the Maw half-cocked and spewing nonsense. That wasn’t on her. She was apologizing for the crack across his face that had come after that intoxicating kiss.

“Aye? Well…I’m sorry too.” He was sorry for parts of it, but it was near impossible for Emery to sort out where he felt bad and where he didn’t. He wasn’t sorry for enjoying the kiss but he was sorry for initiating it; he was sorry for misreading her intent but not sorry for acting on what he thought he saw. It was easier to just apologize for it all than it was to discern the specifics. “Which is why I brought you a little somethin’ back from my travels.” Oh yes, that green-wrapped, book-shaped item was for her. “It’s in me hands, when you’re dressed again. Just snatch it from me. I’ll look away til then.” Even though he wanted very much to look. In fact, he wanted so badly to look that he squeezed his eyes shut until fireworks of false light danced behind his eyelids.

Saoirse

The sound of a shoulder and a hip meeting the wall so that she could pull off her thighboots came next. Wet leather squelched past her skin, followed by the thump of it being abandoned to the floor. Metal jingled in her hands as she pulled the belt on her pantalettes loose.

“… you owe me naught in the way of 'making it right.’”

Someone had been talking to Kitty.

“The only harm done was to your face, I fear. Perhaps… your pride, as well.”

She had to tug Emery’s shirt on, despite that it was too big for her, so the rustle of cotton added itself to the symphony that he wasn’t supposed to be peeking at. Her belt and pantalettes hit the floor, joining her boots with a heavy, wet schlunk. Relief from the cold warmed her sigh. Eventually, she lowered herself into a seated curl next to him on the bed, a-swim in his shirt and the outline of smallclothes underneath it. Wool socks climbed her legs and clung close to the roundness of her thighs.

“The next time you want to apologize to someone,” she suggested gently. “Mobilizing an entire crew is hardly necessary. In most cases. Open, it, then. Let’s see.”

Emery

There was a gentle snort, and if his eyes hadn’t already been rolled up to the heavens, surely they would’ve flown there now. “Pride? Aye. The face healed quickly enough. The pride…well, I fear that has a longer recovery time. Though perhaps I ain’t in the best place to be talkin’ pride, what with me half-drowned for the sake of a few items.” Honestly, he could’ve gotten more tea, more satsumas, more mochi. He could’ve just sent K'lani to do it for him while he spent his days selling ale and monitoring the Maw’s finances. He would’ve just let that all sink to the bottom of the sea and curiously checked back every few days to see if the tides had brought it to Limsa. But that book. That was the real prize.

It wasn’t until she was there beside him that Emery let his gaze lower. Of course it went right to her, in his shirt, the picture of everything he had tried to stop himself from thinking about for the last few months. “To be fair, Miss Byrne, I was goin’ East anyway,” he teased. “This tea? Almost worth the trip alone. I’ll warm some water, brew us up a few cups. Like sippin’ slightly fruity air, it is.”

Calloused fingers carefully plucked open the green paper to reveal, of course, a book. It was…old. Very old. The leather was cracked, the pages yellowed, and the entire thing screamed 'handle with care.’ “One two-hundred year old book on ancient Eastern mathematical traditions. Daft sod who sold it didn’t realize he was holdin’ a fortune’s worth of knowledge in his hands. Couldn’t understand the bloody thing. Nor can I, in truth, but if there’s one person who I know can appreciate this, it’s you.”

Saoirse

“You do look a little questionable in that headwear. And I wonder at how well you sleep if you like your bedding so damp.”

Well, she can’t be all contrition and gentleness, now, can she? Her eyes traveled between his makeshift turban and the waterlogged britches he was sitting on his bed in very deliberately. They may as well have been laser pointers.

Saoirse pulled her knees up into her chest, heels-to-rear and arms draped loosely around the entire package. The skeptical eyebrow she raised at Emery was always skeptical, to be fair. At least it wasn’t the sharp sort of skeptical that meant death by tongue-lashing was just around the corner of her whip-crack mind. It was a genuine lack of surety, not so different from the way she’d looked at him just before he’d lowered his chin to mumble like an idiot against her lips some nights prior.

Slightly fruity air? Her expression changed almost immediately, blinking eyes, wrinkling nose. There were several reasons for it, not least among them that she liked her tea rich and black and that she hoped he hadn’t tried to sell his new conquest to anyone using that specific verbiage. Sometimes she worried that the culinarian in him would eventually smother the merchant in him while he slept.

“I suppose I’ve never had… slightly fruity air, before.” It was warm. She would drink it whether she liked it or not, and she wouldn’t complain if she didn’t.

Damp hair fell over her shoulder and onto his as she leaned in to watch his work-worn hands do away with pretty green paper. Before he had it half-peeled back, she could smell brittle paper and aging leather. She breathed deeply. On exhale, she whispered an “… oh.” Small hands wormed their way into Emery’s to acquaint themselves with his gift as though she were anointing the feet of a saint. “Two hundred years? Emery, that’s… that’s Sixth Era.”

Emery

“Oh, y'know how it is. Too many nights at sea, starts feelin’ downright inadequate if me bed isn’t a little damp…” Obviously he was joking, considering how quickly he stood. He had toweled himself off, but he was still pretty damp. Not to mention he could feel the heat of her gaze on him. Was it for his health? Was it something else?

Now that Saoirse had the beloved book in her hands, Emery gently reached to touch her hair, smooth its dampness back behind her ear, all talk of tea and fruity air forgotten, for now. True, he was always interested in new flavors, but he knew that some of them wouldn’t sell very well. This one certainly wouldn’t go far outside the aristocracy, who could afford frou-frou tea. He’d probably pass it on to Kitty to see how it fared amongst some of her companions in Ul'dah, see if he could get her to network him with one of the many merchants.

Tea. No, that wasn’t important. Saoirse was important, and the breathless way she took the book. “I know,” he murmured. “A relic. I guess sometimes rich people got things up in their attics and they don’t even know how priceless they really are. Idiot told me it was just some nonsense scribbles, but I got just enough schoolin’ to know that’s some kind of math.” Emery Dell’s formal education had consisted of learning to read and write from cookbooks, then later how to balance the books and run a business. He was cunning with words and mediocre with any mathematics that involved nonsense like letters.

“Turn 'round, now, and read your new prize, aye? These britches are still a little soggy for my likin’, and unless you wanna get an eyeful…” And yet. His voice had softened, down to that tone that he had used with her a few nights prior, and the hand that had smoothed back her hair was now gently touching her cheek. “It’s still rainin’. You don’t wanna get that book of yours wet now, do ye? Maybe you should stay the night.” Normally this was about when he’d say he’d get the spare room ready for her. But the bed was big, and she seemed so small in his clothes, and the lamplight cast her figure into stark sillhouette against the cream of the shirt she wore. He wanted her here. Down the hall wasn’t close enough.

Saoirse

“Mm,” was her still-hushed response, but obviously she’d heard him, because with book in-hand she let her ankles fall from their post, which pulled her knees out from under her borrowed shirt. Her socked feet dangled just above the floor in front of his bed. It looked like she meant to follow his advice post-haste.

Emery’s reach for Saoirse’s hair gave her pause, so pause she did, with hitched breath, her chin lifted and searching eyes. The way his hand settled alongside her cheek left her with growing pupils and falling eyelids; not all of the way, but to call the way she gazed up at him half-lidded was fair. She thought about it. There was no denying that she thought about it, not the way her heart pounded and her chest flushed and her toes pointed. Just one reach out would do it. One suggestive curl of her fingers over the buckle of his belt, and there would be no stopping it, and it would all be over, and she’d know.

Instead, she let the softness of his voice wind its way through her mind. A quiet nod was all he got to go with her squeeze at the hand on her face. The words didn’t come for another few ticks.

“I’ll stay.”

Emery

“Good.” Though the hand pulled away slowly, his gaze lingered, tracing over Saoirse like he wanted to memorize her. He didn’t have to specify what he meant by stay, did he? Emery was so sure the intent had come through in his voice.

It was almost painful for him to pull away from her so he could retreat to the scratched-up armoire in the corner of the room and find himself a comfortable pair of linen pants to wear to bed. A quick glance over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t looking, and he began to undress. The soft metallic clink of a belt buckle. The rustle of fabric. The hushed breath that he took as he stepped out of his clothing, finally letting his entire body warm.

Then he was back at her side, clothed, warm, mostly dry. The towel-turban had been removed from his hair, which was stll a little damp and sad, but no longer clung to his face and neck. Silver-ringed fingers caressed her shoulder as he settled beside her again, his head leaning towards hers to glance at the book. Or rather, under the subterfuge of glancing at the book. It was her face that Emery truly wanted to examine.

The thunder crashed outside. “Saoirse?” A slow inhale. “You got that look in your eyes again.” Which look? The soft one, or the bookish one? Both? “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Saoirse

It didn’t matter what her top-level understanding of his invitation was. Her head was such a whirl of conflict and confusion that she didn’t see the arcane geometries in the open book in her lap when she dropped her eyes into it. They were just lines, and while the fingertips of the hand she pulled off of the back of Emery’s traced them, it was his veins and his knuckles that she felt in their stead.

All she knew was that she wanted to stay. With him. She would figure out how it made sense that she’d gone from wanting to avoid him at all costs to wanting to avoid everything but him later, but the fact that for a few moments she had to lie to Kitty in pretending that she wasn’t turned solid stone by the prospect that he might not come home this time would probably come into play.

“… I’m glad you’re safe,” she offered in lieu of anything that made sense. Perhaps she should have opened with that. That was how her emotional process usually worked. The caress of her shoulder left it exposed, sleeve slouched halfway down her upper arm. With careful hands, she showed Emery the book he seemed to want to look at, at least until his voice drowned out the storm outside.

A touch drifted past one of her eyelids as though she would be able to feel the look he pointed out if she found it, there. What did beautiful feel like, anyroad?

“I don’t suppose you know what it means.” Fragile whisper, maybe-hole-in-ye-olde-chainmail; who knew? She didn’t.

Emery

Kitty liked to read those romances you could buy for a gil or two at any shop or stand. Emery had thumbed through some when he was particularly bored. The hero always swept the girl off her feet in an impassioned embrace and kissed her madly. Was that what he was supposed to do here? Somehow he was sure that was not the proper step. The girls at the docks had always giggled when he did it, but they were paid to find that amusing.

She was glad that he was safe. There were layers to those words that he was too tired to peel back tonight, but he’d mull on them for the next few days, doubtlessly. What did it mean? The book? The look? He understood nothing right now, left utterly stupid by their shared softness. “I don’t know what anything means right now,” he admitted. It…wasn’t quite against her lips, but it was rather close to it. He could feel her bare skin under his calloused, rope-burned fingers. Soft, warm. He couldn’t buy this with all the gil in the world.

“Is it alright if…” His nose was almost brushing hers. “You ain’t gonna slap me this time if I…?"

#ffxiv #roleplay #mateus #limsa lominsa #the kraken's maw #in league #romance #drama #adventure

0 notes