#so i just started where i thought it made sense to divert from chapter 23
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NWWD Bonus: Divergent Revelations 1
Bonus story for NWWD, AU starting mid Chapter 23. This is primarily the set up for an earlier, different, revelation conversation. (basically fanfiction about my own story)
During the fight with assassins, you and Dale are forced to confront the truth of what you each know about Dale's nature. How does the fight change to have this come about? How will the conversation about these revelations go when there's still more than a week before the wedding?
Main Story: [Part One]
AO3: NWWD Bonus: Divergent Revelations
Part 1 of 2
Just as you secure a makeshift bandage in place and resolve to leave to find help, Vi comes running out of the side room. You know the moment she spots you because she changes direction. Reflexively, you bolt for the door. The mercenary runs around wide, blocking it as a viable exit.
Without thought, you pivot, heading back the way you came for the courtyard. She’s fast though, faster than you with her sturdy boots and training while your skirts and soft shoes only slow you down. She catches you by the time you only get as far as the desk and closet you’d started this situation from.
A blow from her spear blindsides you and you cry out as you stumble into the wall and some furniture that result in another jolt of pain. Vi lunges to cross the last few feet between you before you can do more than get around the side table. Slamming you into the wall, there’s desperation in her eyes as her spear shaft is pushed across your throat. Your wrists are held up in the skilled maneuver, pinning you far more securely than Lasky’s dagger managed. Her wide, terrified eyes bore into yours. “What the fuck is he!? You’re going to—”
The clash of metal on metal followed by a wet cough and a triumphant growl from the other room cuts her off. You try to wrestle her for control while she’s looking behind her and find to neither of your surprise that you’re no match for her strength. Shifting your strategy, you desperately wiggle your hands, trying for even a little more room to breathe. Your head is tilted back, your throat throbbing as she fixes her gaze back on yours. You try to say something, you don’t even know what, but she doesn’t give you a chance.
“They lied,” she spits. “He’s not human, he’s a skinwere.” Your stomach sinks at the realization Dale must have revealed enough of himself that she knows he’s not just enhanced. Skinwere is a common enough term for a demon possessing a human, but it's one you’ve heard more in your short time in Northridge than the rest of your life, so you wonder if she’s a local. No wonder she’s scared out of her mind. That makes her even more dangerous, more able to expose Dale for what he is and your mind screams at you to do something, anything, to be more than a liability here.
When you don’t respond quickly or dramatically enough, despite her spear shaft still preventing you from doing more than breathing shallowly, her eyes narrow. “You knew.” It’s not a question, but you still can’t speak or even move your head to answer anyway. She doesn’t seem to need you to. She pushes against you with her spear, completely cutting off your air before she pulls back enough to let you speak. You cough, gulping in air as she orders, “Tell me how to kill it. Tell me—”
Before she can make any more demands, you drop your whole body down like a dead weight. There was enough space between the spear and the wall to let you, although it still wrenches your wrists painfully. Your head hits the wall as your chin hits the spear shaft to allow the movement.
Wrists, head, and backside throbbing, you’re moving before you can think about it. Crawling around her legs on your hands and knees. You scurry towards anything that can be perceived as safe. The sound of something heavy being flung into a wall in the distance makes you flinch as you try to get under a couch.
A heavy blow to your back causes you to yelp and you collapse onto your stomach. “You’re not going anywhere,” Vi snarls, the butt of her spear pressing down with insistent force into your spine. You try to push yourself forward, tears rolling down your cheeks from the way you can feel the wooden dig into what feels like your bones. “Not until—”
The pressure abates abruptly and you turn on your side to see something long and black around her wrist, pulling her weapon off of you. Your vantage point, combined with your throbbing head and blurred, teary vision, makes it hard to follow all the action. How could a black snake be trying to fight Vi?
She draws a knife with her free hand to strike the black thing, but the crack of bone breaking causes her to scream as her spear drops from her now limp hand. You manage to pick the spear and shoot it along the ground, as far away as you can. You know she’d be more capable of taking it from you than you would be at wielding it against her.
Vi finally looks behind her, following where the solid shadow stretches to and screams at whatever she sees. You only see another long dark ribbon of tangible blackness wrap around her neck before she’s pulled backwards with a strangled sound, past where you can see. A gasping whimper and a thud make you wince, paralyzed on the floor, mind unable to decide what to do next.
You hear footsteps heading for you accompanied by a tap of wood on wood. Then you hear a worried, “Sana?”
Relief floods your body and you desperately need to see Dale, to reassure yourself that despite the horrible clashes and yells, the violence and the destruction, he’s whole. No matter what he must look like given what you’ve seen and how his voice still has an echoing, deep quality to it. Flattening your palms to the floor, you brace yourself to get up. You’re interrupted by a loud crack before you can clear your abused throat enough to answer him.
“I knew it,” an unfamiliar voice meets your ears. It has a strange, otherworldly grit to it and you freeze instantly. “How all these other humans are so blind, I’ve no notion.”
Dale hisses, “Hide,” before you hear him move away from you and towards the voice. You follow his suggestion, too cowed by the return of the threat to want to do anything else. Half crawling and half dragging your tired body, you skip the couch to tuck yourself under the heavy wooden desk.
“As though you are a paragon of subtlety,” Dale snaps back. He’s clearly nearly in that other side room once more, but his voice carries more than perhaps he’s even aware.
“Ah,” the voice concedes, the sound carrying just as easily. Is that a demon power? you wonder with only slight delirium, projecting your voice? “But I am not trying to be. Neither of us are.”
“Us?”
“Yes,” a far more human voice replies this time. “Us.” The two voices overlay on that word before the more inhuman voice continues, “We are not all so rude as to kick out the original owner. Some of us know what it is to share.”
You realize it’s Two, who has apparently decided to finally enter the fight and who’s strange nickname suddenly makes a lot more sense.
“I care not how many of you are fitted in that body,” Dale replies. “You’ll do no more harm here. You’ll not fulfill your mission.”
“Perhaps,” the casual menace of this voice is not intimidated by Dale’s confidence or orders. “Or perhaps there is simply more to be gained and less to be parsed.”
You strain your ears but there is only the sound of movement and metal after that. Grunts from all three voices, perhaps more distinct given your inability to see and only to hear, come from that further side room. It’s not enough to tell you who’s winning and you’ve no notion of how Dale stands in contest with another actual demon.
Does the Two being both human and demon help or hinder them? They had implied that Dale was not sharing his own form, which confirmed the human who had been Dale was gone, didn’t it? Neither of them are mentioning Clen either, so is he dead? What sort of creature was the demon in Two? You know demons vary wildly, even the intelligent ones, in a manner far greater than humans did. What if this one was more powerful than Dale?
Although, it feels like ages of simply listening as you try to regain your breath, though in reality, it’s likely only a minute or two. You can’t take knowing so little about what is happening. Hesitantly, you move forward and cautiously kneel up to see just over the surface of the desk.
They’re indeed still in that other room, circling so fast you can hardly tell who’s who. From the glimpses you catch, neither of them are in forms that are entirely human anymore. Part of the fight seems human enough, the swords meeting and breaking apart as they move, engaging each other’s blades while dodging stabs and slashes.
The room around them is what currently seems like it's not of this world. The shadows in the room move unnaturally and at least two seem to be even more independent than that. They whip around Dale to meet and deflect spikes of animate stonework, colored grayish-green with a rusty red shot through it. The rock seems both to originate from the columns and walls of the room, despite looking nothing like the rock used to construct it, and from nothing at all. Ripples of unnatural movement in the floor and ceiling add to the feeling that the room itself is attempting to attack Dale.
Your heart is in your throat as Dale’s shadows seem far more ephemeral, far weaker, than something as sturdy as stone. A big chunk breaks to fall from the ceiling. Dale’s dodge to the side is more desperate than any previously and he catches Two’s sword stroke awkwardly as a result. His sword flies from his hand to land behind Two with a clatter.
Retaliating with a riot of shadows which erupt between them, Dale forces Two back. They’ve migrated such throughout the fight that you have to strain to keep them in sight and follow what’s happening. Dale’s inky back is to you and half his body is blocked by the doorframe while Two’s nearly on the other side of that room now.
“I believe you’re unarmed now,” Two says with a smirk that’s beginning to look unsettling on his face which has begun to resemble a statue’s more than a person’s. The movement of stone when he talks and his expression changes just looks wrong.
“I do not need a weapon to be armed,” Dale snarls, the shadows of the room flickering dizzyingly. You can’t tell if it's the lighting or actuality, but his entire body seems more amorphous than ever before. Taller than he typically is, but thinner too—he’s becoming more unrecognizable as the fight drags on. He brandishes his hand to better display the black claws he now has. The arm you can see is oddly shaped, more like a medical mannequin from class—bone and muscle with no fat to be seen—than a living person’s. In fact, you’re certain he’d been wearing a green suit earlier, but that’s black now too. Even his dark hair seems to absorb light, untied and wild, longer than it should be.
You keenly appreciate Dale’s rebuttal, but you still hate that his sword is gone from his hand while one remains in Two’s. They shift their stances.
You bump into a lamp that’s been knocked to the floor when you automatically try to compensate to keep your minuscule view. As you push the lamp to the side, something on the ground catches your attention. Very deliberately not looking too closely at Vi’s body, you focus on the long, thin piece of polished wood which drew your notice. Dale’s cane.
Instantly, you know you need to get this to Dale having heard him boast about it’s hiding a weapon at a gala. More than that, you want to do something, anything to help him. Fear fights that impulse. The big, heavy desk provides the reassurance of safety, however wishful it might be. With one last look at the circling fighters, you lean down, steadying yourself on the cold stone floor. Straining, you only just manage to wrap a few fingers around the foot of the cane to pull it towards you.
Hastily retreating back behind the desk, you pop back up fast enough to give your still sore head a rush. You run your hands over the familiar wood as you try to spot Dale as he and Two dance around each other.
Once they’ve split once more with Dale nearest the doorway, you call out, “Dale!” Leaning up as high as you can on your knees, you hurl the cane like you’ve seen others throw a javelin. It soars through the air while both are distracted by your shout.
Dale leaps backwards as if propelled by some of the shadows under him towards you. A clawed hand, black like he’s wearing gloves or dunked his arm in ink, snatches the cane out of the air with careful precision. You think you see the glint of a blue eye on the back of his hand, the only color standing out against his form now.
“Will that do you any good?” Two asks, seemingly curious more than anything as he watches Dale hold the cane. You can’t tell if his lack of anger over this fight, the way he keeps treating it like a tournament fight for entertainment, is a good thing or not.
Dale says nothing, merely twists the handle. He carefully pulls off the wood to reveal a long green rapier. Before you can wonder at the applicability of such a weapon, Two takes a full step back.
“Jade,” Two hisses. “A dangerous weapon for one such as ourselves to wield.”
“All weapons are dangerous,” Dales replies brusquely, squaring up instead of dodging as he’d been doing since Two disarmed him. “Humans regularly use weapons as deadly to themselves as they are to their enemies.”
“How adaptable. All the shade in your nature, I presume,” Two says, a mocking edge to his tone.
“You are not the only one who can use stone to their advantage,” Dale bats back as easily.
Two lets out a cascade of laughter and the sound seems to come from far more than two mouths, let alone one. It’s grating: like steel on iron, like a throaty cough, like the squeal of a live animal on fire all at once. You would give nearly anything for him to never do that again. “It has been so long since I spoke with one of us with intelligence still left to them up here,” Two seems to relish the idea. “The sunlight seems to drive too many insane. Almost a shame to kill you.”
“A good thing then,” Dale says as he charges, “that you will not.”
The visibility of the fight becomes impossible after that. There’s too much movement from shadows as Dale chases Two further into the room. You’re back to primarily trying to gauge the fight based on sound alone: thuds and crashes and ripping you can’t identify.
“So close. But perhaps you are correct,” it’s the human voice this time, panting but not demoralized. Some of the sight line clears and you see Two hunched over, a hand on their chest. “I shall not be able to kill you nor collect the bounty so generously placed on your head.” They cough a cloud of rust from their mouth as they lift their head. “However, the knight had the correct idea.”
“Yes,” the gravelly demonic voice picks up and they slowly straighten. “I’m certain you must have supplies or teachings worth perusing. I can tell your form is impeccable underneath, despite your essence spilling out.” They gesture with their arms, sneering. “This body, with him intact, still gets a bit stiff if I’m not careful. I shall be intrigued to ascertain how you accomplished such a thing.”
“You think I will allow you to leave?” Dale hisses. “After all you’ve done?” He throws a hand out to emphasize the general state of destruction around them.
Two laughs again. How could you not be better braced for it? Even anticipating how horrible it is, it remains one of the most unsettling things you’ve ever heard. It has a screech to it now that makes your skin crawl. You’re resisting the urge to cover your ears or yell yourself in order to drown them out when they look over and meet your eyes. Their dirty red eyes, the color of dried blood, bore into yours across the distance and they rush for you.
They cross the distance faster than they should be able, outpacing Dale, and there’s a ripple in the walls that seems to respond to them. Panic seizes your heart and mind as you instinctively dive back down and under the desk. Your hands desperately latch onto and drag a broken ottoman to cover the opening at the back of the desk.
Curling up against the front board of the desk, you feel something slam into your makeshift shield. Pushing you and the desk back, the wood squealed against the floor as it moves. A wordless roar comes from somewhere to your right and another crash echoes through the room followed by a heavy grunt and the sound of books falling to the floor. Then, silence.
After holding perfectly, tightly, still, you can’t keep in a cough. The stone moving has kicked up a lot of dust and you’re unable to help it. You think you hear a smothered groan as you attempt to stop, but you stay rooted in your hiding spot, waiting.
After another dull thump, Dale calls your name. His voice is still strange and yet you can hear the confusion and worry in it. You can hear a lot more than that actually. Your eyelids flutter despite being unable to see anything other than dust and dingy wood. Your name sounds different than when he’s said it in the past. There is a depth to it, meaning below the surface that you can hear when he’s like this. Like emotion and inflection and neither of those.
There’s a layer of softness, of imagery that it conjures up, that you can almost feel through his voice. Of gentle sunlight through the window on a clear day. Your favorite chair and the taste of fresh, sweet honey melting on your tongue, soothing and comforting. Its respect and harmony and the potential to be more than you are alone, of joining and of belonging. Tension leeches from you in waves, like taking off so many heavy coats to stand unburdened. You want to drown in the sensation. You want to hear him say nothing, but your name for the rest of your life.
You want to come out, to go to him, regardless of what you might see. Hesitantly, you push the ottoman away and start to crawl out from beneath the desk. Shakily, you stand up and turn to face Dale.
Black shadows still cling to his form, one hand pressed against the oddly bulging stone, the other behind his back where a bookshelf is braced. His eyes glow an unnatural blue and his hair is too long and wild. He’s roughly the correct height with only one extra eye on the back of his hand. He’s still too thin, as if his arms are muscle and bone only. His face is mostly human, his skin the same light brown it always is, except for a streak of shadow and some darkness around the edges where his hair halos his head.
He looks like nothing so much as what he is: a human consumed by something inhuman, something demonic. Adrenaline surges through your veins and yet, he’s still so clearly… “Dale,” you breathe out, relieved. He’s the one you’ve grown to know and like. You’re not afraid of him. How could you been when he’s still protecting you?
Instead, you find yourself searching for evidence of the toll the fight may have taken on him. To your relief, he doesn’t seem to be bleeding either, no obvious large wounds or injuries.
Nerves still prepared for danger, you look beyond him to assess the rest of the situation, although you can tell by an absence in the air that Two is–
“Gone,” he croaks, his voice shuddering and rusty. With a groan, he pushes himself straight and the bookcase falls away from him to land with an echoing crash that fills the room, empty of all but the two of you. He removes his hand from the rock of the wall to your right. The large bricks of rock are loose, but not enough to threaten the integrity of the wall itself.
You meet his eyes once again and finally take a deep breath, while his shoulders droop as you both stand in the aftermath. The shadows are receding slowly, subtle enough you wonder if it's just a trick of the light, but of course, they are shadows, so it must be. Then Dale’s striding forward and the cool fingers of his hand cup your cheek. His eyes trace down your body, taking in every scrape and bruise and streak of dust as he looks.
“I am fine,” you say, more because you’re alive and so it feels like the appropriate response. Not to mention, you’re not the one who’s just been battling assassins.
It’d probably be a more convincing statement if you couldn’t feel tears dripping down your cheeks. His eyes rake up and down your form, obviously trying to assess that for himself and his other hand grasps the elbow of the arm Lasky cut. Everything about him, his shadows, his gaze, his focus tightens. “You’re hurt.”
“Nothing serious. Are you?” Your eyes strain to see his body more clearly now that he’s not completely wreathed in darkness. Mostly you can tell his clothes are in rough shape, but there are no obvious large holes, no blood.
“I’ve got a thick skin,” he says, voice still pitched a little lower than usual. “And I’d speed on my side. Not to mention Two’s folly in letting the others face me without them.”
Cautiously, you place your free hand on his chest, over his heart—needing to feel him solid and whole under your touch. “But they fled.”
“Yes,” Dale admits, but his gaze doesn’t dart towards the doors. His eyes stay fixed on your face. He carefully brings a thumb to wipe away your tears with a tenderness that doesn’t match the danger that lingers in the way he still holds himself. You can’t help but lean into his touch, the safety he offers, if only to you. Some of the tension starts to ebb from him when he freezes.
You don’t understand why until you are able to tell he’s fixated on his own, still inhuman hand on your cheek. Abruptly he’s as still as a statue. It’s obvious he’d been unaware of how demonic he still looked. “It’s alright,” you murmur, gently. His wide blue eyes finally meet your own. “I don’t mind.”
Dale pulls back his head at your words, looking more baffled than you’ve ever seen him. he drops your elbow, but he doesn’t let go of your face. From the corners of your eyes, you can see all the shadows melt away as he pulls his inhuman influence in to leave a mostly human man looking back at you with faintly glowing blue eyes and ink stained hands. He doesn’t push your hand away from his chest, where a human heart beats, reassuring you that he’s still alive and with you.
“I don’t—” Dale stops speaking abruptly, tilting his head and finally breaking eye contact with you to look towards the door he came through. His hand drops from your cheek to hide behind his back and when he next blinks, there’s no more light in his eyes. You resist the urge to sway towards him, wanting his touch to keep you grounded, but understanding the implication. Reinforcements must be due to arrive any minute. Reluctantly, you drop your hand from his chest.
When he looks back at you, you can see he’s trying to pull himself together to face company. He blinks again, before frowning, his eyes darting around the room with renewed concern. “Where is Grandmother?”
If Dale can hear what’s going on in the hall… You spin around, your hand closing around the door handle for the closet. You wrench it open to reveal Grandmother, still hidden away safely. You rush in to check her breathing, to feel her pulse and reassure you both that… “She’s still unconscious, but she’s breathing.”
Dale breathes out in relief and without any more words, you grab one arm of the chair and Dale the other as you pull her from the closet. You don’t even care that he’s clearly doing the majority of the work. “Grandmother will be fine too,” you say, not sure who you’re trying to convince more.
“Good,” Dale says, eyes drifting over your more obvious injuries once more. “It would only be worse for them if either of you were not.” His eyes slide down Grandmother’s unconscious form and menace seems to drip from his voice. “It shall be bad enough as it is.”
Despite the warning from Dale a minute or so ago, you still jump at the sound of a door opening, looking past Dale to see two of the governor’s guards walk in. They stop in the doorway, gaping.
Dale straightens from where he’d been leaning over Grandmother. His head swivels to the direction of the courtyard, where Two went. He doesn’t respond to Grandfather’s concerned voice calling his name and Grandmother’s and even your own.
Fear grips your heart and your hand lands on his forearm, “No.” He doesn’t look back at you either. He gently, but inexorably pulls out of your grasp. You can’t stop him, you know that you can’t, but you can’t stand the thought of him leaving, of him pursuing this threat. “No. Dale.” He ignores you and picks up his rapier. “Don’t go after him!”
Dale runs out into the night, in pursuit.
“Damn you,” you say, voice tight as you try to stop more tears from welling up. What if he’s found out? What if Two can do more to hurt him? What if there are others in wait and he’s ambushed? What if—? You wipe your eyes more harshly than perhaps you need to as you force yourself to focus on what you can do, who you can help.
While the other guards race to follow Dale, Grandfather hurries across the room to be on the other side of the chair, calling Grandmother’s name. You can feel her breathing, but you need to know if her heart is in trouble. “We need a doctor. Now.”
-/-
This is the re-write of Chapter 23's ending to set up the next part, which should go up within a week. There as originally gonna be a steamy dream after the fight, but i couldn't make it work and then it morphed into this lol. See this ask for further details.
#my writing#story: nothing's wrong with dale#nothing's wrong with dale#fanfiction of my own story#canon divergent?#lol#i dont know how to explain or tag this well at all#couldn't resist tightening up evn the parts that did overlap with the main story#wasnt sure where to break off into the new stuff#so i just started where i thought it made sense to divert from chapter 23#monster romance#osha compliant#what if they had a conversation earlier?#because dale figured it out that sana knew sooner?#assassins#fighting#demonic reveals
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Left Behind - Chapter 31
PART 1 / PART 2
Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29/ Chapter 30
@gumnut-logic dis one is for you :D
He hadn’t seen Kay since the decision had been made to take Mom home and bring Eli on board. She had immediately been absorbed into organising security and transport for the whole operation.
They hadn’t spoken since the cafeteria.
As the days had gone on he had realised that he was missing her.
He had never missed her before. In fact, he had never missed anyone quite like he found himself missing her.
And now they were home, Mom secure in the infirmary and Eli familliarising himself with his new home. On the island he thought it would have been easy to catch her and ask her how she was.
Okay maybe not how she was.
But equally not so far in the other extreme. He couldn’t just straight up kiss her.
Could he?
According to Alice, his oldest and dearest friend, kissing her was the prefect way forward. Things were different for Alice though, a petite woman launching herself at another woman hardly came across the same way as him leaning in to kiss someone who was basically his sister.
He didn’t even know how she felt about him.
He had to find out.
He had to talk to her.
Movement in the corner of his eye made him look up and away from where he had been dangling his feet in the pool, enjoying the late evening sun as it set on the horizon.
It was Kay.
Something made him lift his feet from the water and swing around to stand as she paused on the decking to drop her sunglasses over her eyes. Part of him wilted slightly, he loved the green of her eyes, they said so much about her and were always such a beautiful shade.
She was smiling at something as she surveyed the scene, no, not smiling, grinning. Something was making her almost laugh as she raised one eyebrow to peak up over her glasses.
She was looking right at him.
He was watching her.
She knew he was watching her.
Too fast he looked away, eyes automatically diverting to the pool and the tiles below the water. In his peripheral vision he could see her heading towards him, feet dancing down the steps from the decking before slowing as she sashayed across the stone. The sway of her hips was accentuated by the beach skirt she was wearing as its material moved with her body. He needed to think of something, an excuse, quickly. Yet his mind was blank.
“Hey,” She greeted as she approached, forcing him to look at her again, “You okay?”
He thought she would stop by the sun lounger, yet she kept coming, stepping into his personal space and taking hold of his arm. The tilt of her head and wide eyes behind the dark lenses of her glasses suggested some sort of childlike innocence.
Virgil knew Kayo better than to believe that look.
The cut of her bikini top only affirmed his knowledge.
Words, he needed words.
“Erm, yeah, fine.” He forced out, knowing that he had to keep his eyes up no matter what the temptation was, “I just… wanted some fresh air to think.”
She smiled again, small and sweet sending goosebumps up his arms. If he hadn’t have been so terrified of what she might say, he might have reached out to her in that moment.
There was so much bare skin though, and he respected her too much. He couldn’t. She was so much, so intelligent, so capable, just a little bit mysterious, and beautiful. So, wonderfully beautiful.
“What are you thinking about?”
The question caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to ask, though he had been entirely distracted.
Part of him wondered if she knew that.
Then again, it was Kayo, of course she knew that.
“Me?” She murmured as she reached up to move her sunglasses off of her face.
He gaped, trying to find some form of coherent response.
That smile was back, the one from the cafeteria, the one that screamed that she knew something that he didn’t.
Her hand slipped up over his chest, fingers light and ticklish over the bare skin of his neck until she cupped his cheek on her palm.
He could only swallow under her touch.
“Virgil?”
The question within his name was clear, the look on her face, the wideness of her eyes. It wasn’t innocence, it was knowledge and want and understanding.
As always, Kayo knew.
She smiled as she stood up on her tiptoes, leaning in closer and closer until her lips caught his.
His heart stuttered, his mind stumbled, and his hands searched for somewhere appropriate to rest.
Her lips curved up against his, her eyes closed as a laugh vibrated in the back of her throat. One of her hands caught his, drawing him to hold her waist as his free hand fell naturally to her arm.
All he could smell was her shampoo, sweet and fruity and fresh. Her hands on his chest and in his hair, nails digging in just enough to sting but not hurt. He couldn’t help but pull her towards him, as close as he could get her and determined not to let go. Everything he had was focussed on her, determined to read whatever she wanted and needed.
God, he would give her anything, everything.
When she pulled her lips away, part of him felt bereft, but she stayed close, nose skimming over his cheek as she sighed.
“I--” He started, only to be hushed by her finger on his lips.
“I was thinking of going down to the beach,” She started, her pause interrupted by a whistle from the deck.
“Is this what I think it is?” Gordon called, his grin clear from where he was standing with his hands on his hips.
“Gordon!” Virgil turned too quickly as he snapped, everything about Kayo all too distracting from how close to the edge of the pool he was. His foot went over first, expecting there to be more concrete when there wasn’t. After that, he knew he was doomed, even as his arms flailed and he attempted to shift his bodyweight forward in some hope of staying on dry land.
Gordon’s hysterical laughter was the last thing he heard before the rush of bubbles took over all his senses.
All it took was one good kick from the bottom of the pool for him to resurface, hair dripping down over his eyes and t-shirt clinging to his skin. Brushing his hair back, he took a breath and looked around. Gordon was gone, vanished from sight, leaving Kay stood on the edge of the pool, hand covering her mouth as she stifled a laugh.
“You could have just said you wanted to stay in the pool,” she teased as he swam to the edge, “I wouldn’t have minded.”
Grasping the edge of the pool, he looked up to her, “Don’t make me drag you in here.”
Her laugh was smug as she stepped back, crouching down just out of his reach as she shook her head, “Darling, you wouldn’t dare.”
She was right and they both knew it.
“Virgil!” John called from the deck, something in the sharpness of his tone drawing both their attentions.
“We have a situation.”
Nothing more had to be said as he lifted himself out of the water in one smooth movement, pausing only long enough to peel his t-shirt off and throw it to the floor. He looked to Kay as he turned towards the villa, wanting to say something but once more lost for words.
Her eyes were soft as she stepped over to him, one hand resting on his chest as she stood on her tiptoes for the briefest of kisses.
“Come home safe.” She whispered as she pulled back, “I’ll be waiting.”
If she hadn’t have stepped away he would have kissed her again, but John was there and clearly waiting on him. Time was of the essence.
Jogging up the steps, he raised an eyebrow at the look John was giving him, something that was closer to a smirk than a smile.
“That’s new.”
Virgil grinned as he looked back over his shoulder, “Yeah. It is.”
“Come on,” John tutted, “I’ve got an out of control hot air balloon with two passengers that need plucking out of the air.”
“Thunderbird One still out of action?”
John’s lips thinned as they jogged up the stairs to the lounge, “Yeah, Brains’ retrofit is taking longer than planned, the iridium supplier hasn’t delivered.”
“Tell me more once I’m in the air.” He nodded as he headed for his chute, “And tell that hot air balloon I’m on my way.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds 2015#scribbles writes#Left Behind Part 1#Left Behind Part 2#Left Behind Part 3#Lucy AU#Lucy Fic#Virgil Tracy#kayo kyrano#Virgil X Kayo#Gordon Tracy#John Tracy
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Electric Love
Chapter 1
A David Lee Roth Fanfiction
To love is nothing...
To be loved is something..
To love and be loved in return is everything..
-anon
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September 1982
“I’m ready to quit this lame-ass job.” My best friend, Holly said as she flung her wet rag to the wall in the kitchen, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips as she made her way to the lockers in the back. She shuffled through her bag grabbing her pack of cigarettes. “I’m taking a smoke, are you on break yet?”
I diverted my eyes from my frazzled friend to the clock and nodded my head. “Just about, I’m sure he’ll spare me a few minutes.”
Holly laughed, “Don’t tell him, he might figure something out for himself.” She referred to our boss and manager at the diner we worked at. He was a bit of a heavier set man, with glasses way too big for his face, and a mind that suited his physical appearance. Let’s just say he was lacking in the common sense department.
I just laughed and shook my head, as I grabbed a glass of water from the sink, and followed my friend out to the back of the diner. It was dimly lit, only a singular bulb hung outside, making most of the front visible, but if you tried to look farther out into the bushes you couldn’t see a thing.
I heard the click of the lighter and watched a flame flicker from the corner of my eye as I turned my head. Holly now had a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she lit it, taking a long drag before leaning against the wall breathing out a funnel of smoke. “I don’t think at 23 we should be feeling as if we’re 50 and have nothing to lose anymore.”
I leaned against the wall too and looked at her solemnly. “Then why don’t we quit?” I asked her.
She finally looked at me with a grimace and shook her head. “Where would we go? What else is there for us? Or excuse me- what else is there for me? You’ve got that bachelor’s degree in art and design…”
I gave her a pointed look. “A degree I was foolish to get, I have nowhere to apply myself!” Raising my hands in the air. “I thought moving here would do something.” I watched as she grabbed a comb from the back pocket of her jeans, and started pulling at the tops of her hair and fluffing the bits at the end.
“Rosie, I think we both knew staying in Arizona, was not going to be a wise career choice,” she said as she laughed, taking another puff of her cigarette, gently tapping the ash away.
“That’s not true, they have wonderful historical art of civilizations that lived-”
“Rose, we’ve got deserts and old Hollywood cowboys, that art excuse is irrelevant,” Holly replied as she groaned, rubbing her temples. “You need to go where everyone goes.”
“Where’s that?” I asked accusingly. I was partially hurt by her outwardness about my decision to stay in my hometown, but I knew it was all in-kind spirit.
“Where do you think? California! The Mamas and the Papas sang about that damn state for a reason.” Holly spoke.
“California? I don’t know Hol… If everyone goes there, then why should I go? There are so many talented people there.”
“Because… you’re a talented babe! Everyone who’s scrapping the bottom in Hollywood and the sunset strip, ain’t got shit on you girl. You’re an actual artist, and you’re classy. Plus you’re smoking hot. And I’d say that’s a winning combo right there.” She said as she looked at me with a grin, coming off the wall. She stuck her cigarette into her lips as she grabbed her comb and start fixing my hair. “Plus, anybody would kill for your hair. You effortlessly have hair that every flat, spaghetti-stranded girls dream of!”
I smiled at her, beginning to giggle before I heard the bang of the door as it opened, and begrudgingly, our boss with his thick neck and wobbly feet, stumble towards the open air. He sniffed the air as if he was a pesty rodent, before turning his head and fixing his beady eyes at us.
“GIRLS! I’ve got a crowd coming in! Get off your ass! I don’t pay you lowly bitches for nothing!” He said as he muttered shrinking his eyes onto Holly who was still smoking.
Holly narrowed her eyes dropping her cigarette down to the floor as she began to speak, but I grabbed her hand to stop her. “We’ll be right in, come on Holly.”
He nodded his head before he waddled back inside, slamming the door shut.
I gave her a look and told her not to say a word as we both made our way back inside.
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“Are you sure you’ve got it Hol’?” I asked as we finally finished our shift at the diner, we had begun climbing down the steps toward the street when Holly remembered we had to lock up.
“I’ve got it, I have to put this into muscle memory anyways, after all my friends going to be a Hollywood sensation and I’ll be working till I’m 80.” She said as she snorted in amusement as she fumbled slightly with the keys before locking the door with a resounding click.
I rolled my eyes as she made her way to my side, shouldering her to stop her sarcastic comments. “That’s not true, after all, doesn’t the best friend always get the share of fame in the movies?”
Holly laughed as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, “Not nearly enough as the protagonist, I think it’s better off if we sign a contract that I get 30%”
I gawked playfully. “30%! No way in hell!”
“Hey, it’s the best friend discount! I’ll split even with a solid 40% if you want.” She looked at me with a toothy grin, as I punched her arm. She pouted petting her shoulder in mock hurt. “Hey, you can’t do that remember? I bruise like a peach, my landlord will think I’m abused and alert the authorities.”
I laughed as we walked over to her car. I grabbed the door before stepping inside to the familiar smell of tobacco and lavender, “We’ll tell them your famous best friend will cover the costs.”
She buckled her seatbelt looking up to give me an approving look before laughing. “Now you’re starting to act like it. I’m proud.”
I rolled my eyes. “Holly, I was kidding. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for that kind of thing.”
Holly put the car in gear as we started heading down the road to my apartment, “Honestly Rose, do you want to spend the rest of your life here busing tables, bending over backward for people who don’t deserve it and wasting hard-earned time not doing what you love?”
I grew silent at what she had said. Honestly, I had no words, because I knew she was right. I wanted to make art through fashion, yet I lived in Arizona where statements of fashion have not been recommended since the turn of the century. Plus I had no other willingness for anything else, and I knew she was right; I had the tendency to be a bit of a pushover.
But I was working on it.
“Holly, it’s not that I don’t want to take that leap. I’m just-“
“Scared?” She replied as she turned the car onto the street where I lived, finally looking me in the eye with a face of concern. “The only thing we regret is the chances we didn’t take.”
She pulled into my apartment plaza, as she stopped near the entrance of the stairs, putting the car into park. She tapped her chipped fingernails on the steering wheel before she looked at me with a sigh. “Rose, I love you.. you know that right?”
I smiled as I nodded. I unbuckled my seatbelt, as I turned to face her, grabbing her hand in an attempt at comforting her.
She gave me a small smile as she played with my hands gently, smoothing each finger over one by one. “I was meaning to tell you this, but I just didn’t have the time..”
I gave her a confused look, and she sighed before releasing my hands and directing her eyes back to the front.
“Remember that time we helped that catering guy with the food at my cousin Vinny’s?”
I tilted my head in confusion before recognition grazed my face as I laughed in amusement. I distinctly remembered the summer we graduated we carried trays of wonderful, hot Italian food to tables, during a 100-degree dry spell. “Yeah, why?”
“Well, the catering guy happens to know a guy who lives in California. They’re close and well… Vinny is close to everybody so he’s gotten to know the guy and all.. well apparently he’s this designer in Pasadena or some shit. Anyways.. he’s looking for somebody to help him..”
It suddenly dawned on me what she was trying to say. “You mean..?”
She whipped her head toward mine as she looked at me with a bright smile, “Remember what I said about getting your ass out of this dry place?”
I laughed as I put a hand to my mouth, I was speechless. “I- Holly.. this is… How can I do this? What will I do? Where will I stay-“
“Rosie, the guys’ got it all covered. I’ll just tell him you’re interested and you can talk to him.. I’ll give you his number. But this is it, Rosie. This is the higher heavens calling out to you. It’s time you win.”
I gave her an anxious look, my mouth frozen in place, before spacing out the window. I had only one question left. “What does the guy design?”
“Outfits.”
I gave her a confused look, “For who?”
I watched as a wide smile appeared on Holly’s face before she bit her lip slightly.
“Rockstars.”
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The Rose & Crown: Chapter Twenty-Three (Part Four)
Rating: M
Chapters: 23/24
Summary: With Missy defeated and the paradox on the verge of collapse, the Doctor and Clara must face their final moments together before the timeline is wiped out forever.
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The Doctor observed from afar as Missy sat slumped in her chair. Her catatonic condition was brought to life by the wide-eyed terrified expression on her face. He could only imagine what sort of horrors she was being forced to face. The sight of her helpless crumpled form before him was nearly unbearable. If only it hadn’t needed to come to this. As many times as they had tried to kill each other in the past, this was the best option he had to ensure he could win without either of them being harmed.
After a moment, the doors to the TARDIS opened and Clara exited the box. She rested her hand upon the frame as her eyes met with the familiar presence of her Time Lord. “Doctor,” she called to him softly.
He quickly spun around at the sound of her voice. “Clara,” he whispered back, feeling relieved by the sight of her presence. They cautiously approached each other and met in the middle of the room, their focus drawn to one another as if nothing beyond them mattered. There were so many things he wanted to say yet didn’t know where to start or how to begin. Being forced to openly deny his love for her had destroyed him on the inside. And now that they were standing in front of each other again, all he could think about was wanting to hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was. But he feared that it was too late. That he had already ruined everything between them. “Are you okay?” he managed to ask.
“I’m alright. She didn’t hurt me,” she assured him. His eyes softened with apology and remorse as the events of the evening continued to tear him apart. She knew all too well the pain he was suffering at the cost of risking their friendship to save her. All she had left to offer was her compassion and understanding. “That was a nice touch back there, your tragic confession. Not your best performance, but she seemed to have bought it pretty well,” she teased, attempting to lighten the mood between them.
Though surprised by her words, he was greatly pleased to hear that she had seen passed his deception and through to his hearts. “How did you know I was lying?”
A compassionate smile passed over her as she gazed at him. “The way you look at me. The way you’ve always looked at me. That was never a lie.”
Matching her smile as best he could, he delicately took her by the waist to pull her closer and lowered his glance to the space between them. His hand passed along the front of her and gently pressed against her middle. “Is it true?” he asked, his eyes lifting to read her expression carefully.
Her smile quickly faded as her guilt of having kept him in the dark about her condition devoured her. She fought her shameful tears and found the courage to tell him the truth. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes and sighed disheartenedly. “How far?”
“A few weeks, maybe more,” she answered, realizing how long she had been hiding her secret from him. “I knew the moment I felt the warmth.”
The moment between them became still as his senses were lured towards a pair of tiny hearts beating deep within her. His fingers protectively spread over their source as he met with the new life form growing inside of her. The feel of his child’s pulse beneath his palm was both sentimental yet incredibly tragic as if he were welcoming them into existence and bidding them farewell at the same time. “Oh, Clara,” he whispered, meeting her eyes with his tearful gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would we have ever gotten this far if I had?” she wondered, though she already knew the answer. Coming to terms with the reality they were facing, he nodded softly in understanding. He pulled her towards his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a loving embrace. She laid her head against him and allowed her tears to fall openly as the wound of her betrayal set in. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I know how much this baby means to you.”
He sighed and kissed the top of her head. Though the chances of meeting his child were highly improbable, he couldn’t imagine what the alternative would have been if he had lost his companion instead. “Don’t be sorry. As long as I still have you, that’s all that truly matters,” he replied. He held her quietly for a few moments before turning his attention towards his daughter who approached the couple holding the Comasphere out to him. He nodded his appreciation and placed the sphere into his pocket. Releasing his companion, he turned to face his oldest friend who remained seated in her comatose state staring off into oblivion. He made his way to her desk and peered down at a series of neatly stacked letters upon its surface. Retrieving them, a small smile passed over his face as he thought about all the hardships he had overcome just to reach this point. How far he had come to finally win.
Clara regained herself and approached his side to better observe what had taken his interest. “What are they?”
Turning towards her, his brow playfully raised at the question. “Beethoven’s Fifth,” he answered with a child-like grin and tucked the letters neatly into his pocket.
“What will happen to her now?” she asked, glancing at Missy’s unresponsive form. For a moment, it was almost as if there was a part of her that couldn’t help but feel sorry for the deranged woman. Almost.
“She can’t hurt anyone. As long as she remains here, she will be trapped in fear by what she has done.”
“You’re just going to leave her here like this?” she questioned him, knowing how unlike him that sounded.
“No,” he assured her. “If we have indeed altered the future, then she will be released. It will be as if none of it ever happened. And if not, then I will come back for her. That is until I’ve felt she has endured enough.” He sighed and took one last look at his most notable foe. “Perhaps one day we will set aside our differences. Until then, I might be in the market for something large enough to keep her contained for a while,” he laughed and glanced over his shoulder towards Quynn, only to discover her sombre expression staring off into the void of her thoughts. His smile quickly faded at the sight of it. He cleared his throat and peered down at his companion. “Clara, will you give us a minute?” he asked, observing her curious expression at the request. “I’ll see you in the TARDIS, okay?”
Her eyes diverted towards Quynn for a brief moment then returned to his in understanding. “Of course,” she complied before removing herself from his presence. Approaching their daughter, she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Surprised by her mother’s sudden affection, Quynn hesitantly embraced her caring gesture. “Thank you,” Clara whispered, hiding her face behind Quynn’s shoulder. Feeling her tears returning, she released her and leaned away to see her face. She placed her hand on her cheek and smiled tearfully as she gazed upon her one last time. Doing her best to maintain her composure, she returned to the desk and took up the carrier in her arm before heading through the open doors of the TARDIS.
Now alone, the Doctor tucked his hands in his pockets and hesitantly stepped towards his daughter. “Where will you go?” he asked solemnly.
Quynn smirked to herself as she thought about how his determination to remain hopeful in even the bleakest of times was worthy of her admiration. Deep down, they both understood the cost of what they had done and what it would mean for both of them. And yet, just this once, maybe there was room in her hearts to view things in a different light as he did, even if only very briefly. “Perhaps I’ll create my own path throughout the stars.”
He smiled as best he could as the pain of their inevitable reality settled inside of him. “Don’t run. Stay with us,” he pleaded softly.
Quynn drew her attention towards the time-machine where the sight of her mother could be seen rocking the baby in her arms. “She needs you,” she replied, looking to him once more. “If this doesn’t work, the child will need a father in her life to show her the ways of the universe.”
A regretful sigh escaped him as the memory of everything that had been taken from him began to surface. No matter where they were to go from there or what was to happen, he’d never be able to fix what had so wrongfully been done to her. “I wish things had turned out differently for us,” he confessed, doing what little he could to hold back his heartbreak.
“Everything is as it should be,” she comforted him, taking a moment to find the words to say that would earn his understanding in exchange for the gratitude she had gained from his wisdom. “A brave man once told me that life is very fleeting when you’re not immortal. I only wish I had understood what he meant sooner. I’ve come to realize that our existence in this universe is never guaranteed. That the paths we forge can only be carved by the choices we make. If we’ve accomplished anything here today, I can only hope I have given back what I’ve taken from so many. You and I both know that for balance to be restored to the universe, I must never exist. I have accepted that,” she explained as genuinely as she knew how to be.
Turning his head, he glanced towards his companion. He watched from a distance as she carefully placed their baby in her bassinet and admired her from above. He smiled warm-heartedly as she rested her hand over her middle and allowed her fingers to brush over the surface with great affection for the life she carried inside of her. The elation she displayed towards their growing family was enough to bring even the smallest glimpse of hope for what the future had in store for them. “Never say never,” he replied, returning his attention to his daughter. “Perhaps our paths will cross again one day.”
“Yes, perhaps they will,” she smiled in return and extended her hand to offer a final farewell. “Goodbye, father.”
Peering down at the gesture, he took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips to kiss it softly. He returned his tearful eyes to hers and took in every last detail of her before releasing her from his grasp. Glancing towards the blue box, he headed in the direction of his companion. He crossed the threshold and turned towards his daughter, nodding his farewell before closing the doors to this reality for what would be the last time.
His grasp upon the handle, he inhaled a deep breath and called to arms all the courage he had remaining to help prepare himself for what he knew was to come. After everything they had been through together, after all the challenges they had faced, the hardest part was finally upon them; their final moment together. There would be no turning back now, it was only a matter of time. Releasing the handle, he slowly turned to face his companion. The sight of her presence before him relieved him of his held breath, being drawn to her beauty as if she were the very last flame still fighting to bring an essence of life into the surrounding darkness. Taking his place beside her at the console, his eyes gazed into hers as if he would never leave them.
“So, I suppose this is it then,” she spoke solemnly, fighting the flood of emotions attempting to gain control over her heart.
“I suppose so,” he answered sorrowfully.
Her eyes fell shyly to the floor as she tucked her hair behind her ear and allowed a small smile to spread across her lips. “We made a pretty good team back there.”
He matched her smile with his own and brought his hand to her chin, carefully lifting her gaze to meet with his once more. “You were brilliant.”
Her expression brightened for only a moment at his affection. “I had a good teacher.” Her eyes passed back and forth to each of his as the reality of what they had done forced its way into her soul. “We won’t remember any of this, will we?”
He sighed and held back the tears that yearned to form. “No,” he whispered, trying his hardest to stay strong for her as his hearts tore themselves apart. “The moment we leave here, every event that had led up to this point would never have happened. All that had been accomplished would cease to be. The paradox will be shattered.”
She swallowed the pain rising from within her, feeling every bit of it burning her throat as she fought her tears in his presence. Attempting to shield herself from the look of heartbreak in his eyes, she glanced at their child resting peacefully in her bassinet. She hesitantly approached her side and peered down at their sleeping baby girl. “Will it hurt her?”
“No, she won’t feel a thing. She’ll have no idea that anything has happened,” he assured her.
“Will I ever see her again?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that. All I can tell you is that I know how deeply her parents love each other, even when they don’t say it. Even though they should. People like us, we should say what is really in our hearts. Our truth was never meant to be kept hidden away. Never a moment wasted. No matter where we are to go from here, as long as we remain bound by the love we share between us, there will always be hope for her and perhaps more in the future.”
Clara smiled towards their baby as the sincerity of his words warmed her heart. Even at the most difficult of times, he always knew exactly what to say. Lowering herself to her, she closed her eyes and softly kissed their daughter’s cheek, knowing this was goodbye. But maybe not forever. Perhaps there was still a chance they would see each other again one day. Returning to her natural stance, she took a deep breath and nodded as confidently as she could. “I’m ready, Doctor.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, raising his brow.
“No,” she answered, turning to face him once more. “And I don’t expect that I ever will be. But I’ll have you, and that’s as good a place as any to start.” She smiled and returned to his side, to the place she knew in her heart she would always belong.
He returned her smile and carefully took her hands in his, feeling comforted by the trace amount of electricity flowing through her fingers. Bringing them to his lips, he gently kissed their surface and gazed tenderly into her eyes, knowing everything he wanted to say to her she already knew. Once ready, his smile brightened to the newfound enthusiasm taking place inside of him. “So, Clara Oswald. What would you say to another adventure?”
She couldn’t help the grin that formed on her face at the offer. “What did you have in mind?”
He excitedly released his grasp on her at the question and hurried along the outside of the console, swinging the view-screen around to the other side as he circled it. As he animatedly began to fire up the engines, he looked to her with a new sense of exhilaration in his eyes. “How about the fiery rings of Collabria?! Or a holiday on Halergan Three?! Your choice! Wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space!”
“Back in time for tea?” she asked playfully, peering around the glass pillars of the time rotor to observe his elated expression.
“I’ll do my best,” he replied, smirking at the unmistakable look of wonder in her eyes he missed so dearly as it finally made its return to her face.
“Just like old times then,” she laughed and rushed around the console to his side.
“All of time and the universe, right at our fingertips! Anything could happen!” he exclaimed. His fingers danced energetically over the buttons and keys in front of him as he awakened all of the ship’s systems.
“We best get on with it then. The planets aren’t going to save themselves,” she teased.
“Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. What would you say to lunch on a distant asteroid, followed by breakfast in ancient Rome?! Then cocktails on the moon! Why? Because we’re time travellers and that’s how we roll!”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replied, gripping the edge of the console in anticipation.
“It could be dangerous,” he grinned excitedly.
“I’m counting on it,” she grinned back.
His gaze never leaving his companion’s, he placed his hand on the lever and held it steady as the emotion observed within her eyes captivated his soul. He took a deep breath and allowed every part of himself to be immersed by the vast amount of electricity between them striking the air. “This is it, Clara. Our moment of truth. The end of the line. There’s no going back. No guarantees. From this point forward, our futures will be uncertain. Our fates left unsealed. One last pull of this lever, there’s no telling what might be waiting for us out there.”
Closing the small distance between them, she peered up at his beaming expression and hesitated for only a moment before nodding confidently in his presence. “Then we’ll do it together,” she smiled brightly and placed a gentle hand atop his own with care. “Just as we always have.”
He returned her smile and brought his remaining hand to carefully rest upon her cheek, taking in every detail of her for all it was worth. She was every bit as beautiful to him as the very first time he laid eyes upon her in his previous form, and she always would be. “My impossible girl,” he spoke softly, allowing his fingers to brush over the surface of her soft skin and through her hair. He delicately cupped her head in his palm and gazed into her vibrant brown eyes as they stared back at him. He slowly leaned his head towards hers and stopped, their lips nearly touching. “See you on the other side.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers as a wave of passion came over him, savouring every moment of her divine taste for what could be the very last time.
Gripping the lever securely, they pulled it down together and held onto each other tightly. The time rotor suddenly began to spring into action. Its mechanisms ascended and descended back into itself as the TARDIS signature melody of time travel clattered all around them. The feel of its engines purred underneath their feet as the living machine dematerialized towards their next unknown destination.
And then there was a flash of light…
#dr who#dr who fan fiction#dr who fanfiction#12th doctor#doctor who#doctor who fanfiction#twelfth doctor#the doctor#twelve/clara#clara oswald#whouffaldi
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could you please expand on your kacchako matching theory?? it's too good and it'd be great to see all your thoughts ;;
Thank you for sending this! Let me elaborate, this is just a theory on kacchako’s basis within the manga, and I am in no way saying that it’s canonical evidence for kacchako but it’s just a weird and fun theory I have based on what I’ve seen! Also, this is no way to bash on other ships, I’m just a kacchako shipper trying to make sense of a pattern I’ve seen! You do not have to agree with it and that’s okay!
First of all, these come from mostly splash pages and promotional artwork, but keep in mind that most of these are digitally drawn and can be color-picked. So let’s start with what made me double take in the first place. This picture:
So in this picture, you notice that everyone is dressed up in colors matching their hero outfits/themes/both from the manga. Some of these make sense like All Might wearing yellow (we see this a lot with suits), Kaminari’s hero outfit is black and white with his blonde hair accenting this, Koda is wearing green to represent nature and trees, Aizawa is an abosolute madman as usual, etc.
One of the weird things about this is only five sets of characters potentially match in this picture. Todoroki and Momo, Kirishima and Mina, and Ochako and Izuku are the obvious ones. TodoMomo, KiriMina, and Iz*ch*, are all potential ships or at least character sets with significant connections between each other, as we know now where we are in the manga (189 as I’m typing this.) Todo and Momo are a little iffy cause it could just be them matching the other’s hair colors, so I’m not sure if it counts. Kirishima and Mina are definitely wearing the matching outfit to the other, as it’s blue and orange in the same colors and shades, and these are not colors present in their hero outfits. So it’s obvious they’re matching each other. Ochako is wearing a green armband that matching Izuku’s suit. This makes sense because she is the projected love interest with Izuku. Perfectly fine, because they’re probably going to be the canonical ship at the end!
Deku and Tokoyami also match, which is pretty funny in itself. But they are friends so idk what’s really going on there. But hey, it’s a cute ship so if you need something to push you, here it is! It could also be used a red herring for the last of the five matches.
But here’s the thing: the fifth set is hidden but it’s Ochako and Katsuki. They’re both wearing maroon. And not just any maroon, but:
These are almost the same shade of maroon. Almost exactly the same shade of maroon. Bakugou is wearing orange to represent his hero outfit, and Ochako is wearing pink to represent hers. But why are they both wearing maroon as their base color, when that color is not present in their own outfits? Because they’re matching too. Kirishima and Mina are matching in the same way, but Bakugou’s blue and Ochako’s pink divert from the mainpiece maroon on their outfits. And Kirishima breaks it up. But this is a digital piece and the colors are almost identical. Horikoshi could’ve picked a different shade of maroon for them, but he purposely did this for them. Or this could be the red herring for Tokoyami/Deku! Who knows!!
So that’s a little weird right? Well here’s my next picture:
I love this picture, it’s so dynamic and fun. Anyway! Here we have the characters in alternate outfits again. Izuku is in a similar outfit as the first picture, as is All Might, which is to keep the focus on them of course and keep them in consistency with character design. Everyone else looks like they’re in non-matching outfits though. Except Kacchako.
Now this is more of a stretch, but it won’t feel like it after my next example. Anyway, both are wearing buttons down the front in two sets, and both are wearing orange, though the orange does not match as much as the maroon in the picture beforehand. Katsuki is wearing orange loaders and Ochako’s entire outfit is orange, and black, with pink accents. Where have we seen orange and black before?
Katsuki’s hero outfit is black, orange, and green. The green would match with Izuku, and if Horikoshi wanted them to match, then he would put Ochako in anything but army green right? But no, he put her in orange. And furthermore, Katsuki’s boots have the “double button” design going down, and mimics it throughout his hero costume, which both of their outfits in the current example picture are presenting. And if you look at the first example as well, Ochako is wearing the double button down design on her dress there as well.
Some strange coincidences here. But I can’t say they’re not intentional, as we’ve seen Horikoshi’s character designs and they’re all very well-researched for the character. He is intentionally designing the outfits this way. There is no way that he got just lazy enough to design Ochako and Katsuki similarly.
My third example is from the recent movie promo:
We’ve all seen this one recently, which is really the nail in the coffin for me here. This is harder to see so I did crop it out, but I want you to look at Ochako and Katsuki here:
We noticed recently that Ochako is wearing the same flower in her hair as is embroidered on Katsuki’s vest. After seeing the last two examples, it isn’t weird that they are matching. But here’s the second kicker that I didn’t notice since people were cropping out their feet: Ochako’s shoes match Katsuki’s red shirt.
UPDATE: It was brought to my attention that the flowers symbolize “waiting”. Which may indicate more about the future of the ship that I put in the closing paragraph of this post. Source: https://vanillafriedlover.tumblr.com/post/175412600634/mystery-of-white-flowers
Now the lighting is iffy here, and Deku is wearing a burgundy/reddish suit, which could indicate that she is matching with him. But looking at this:
It looks pretty damn close with Bakugou and Ochako but also Ochako and Deku! Now, a disclaimer to this is that this is a very pixilated picture with some color issues (look at Deku’s hair) so we’ll need the movie to come out to really fathom what’s going on with the colors here. But Deku’s does lean towards brown whilst Kacchako looks… matching with reds….
Now I just came across this while looking for something else, and I did make the argument earlier about if Ochako were to match Izuku, they would use green, except for the army green. And here is this picture:
Ochako is wearing army green in this page. I know that one character doesn’t own any colors, but Horikoshi knows what colors represent and again he’s deliberate on the colors and outfits he chooses, but these two seem to match with lots of reds and maroons as a sort of “color” that represents them, and Ochako is wearing army green (Katsuki’s outfit) with a red inscription on her shirt, and Katsuki is wearing a maroon belt. Not the strongest thing, but it’s there.
Like any good thesis statement, I must put the antithesis. So here is a picture that could offset this theory a lot:
If you recognize this splash page, that’s great! It’s from chapter 23, and that’s the chapter after when the Sports Festival Arc starts! It’s my personal favorite that’s been done so far. But Ochako is wearing a green bandana around her neck that does match Izuku’s hero outfit. This did come out when the sports festival arc was being drawn, and the Iz*ch* hints were very heavy at the time, so that may be what it’s referring too. Though Izuku is not wearing his hero outfit in this picture, but Katsuki is wearing his green as well. So it could be referring to either/or, but I think it’s probably for Iz*ch*.
But I’d also like to point out, in an off-topic manner, Ochako does look like she’s enjoying the explosion from Katsuki, which probably hints at their fight in upcoming chapters. But this is a digression paragraph.
Next up on some weird and iffy choice is this picture:
Ochako is wearing a bandana, which is orange and green. Funnily enough, this matches Deku’s outfit in the splash picture, but also matches Katsuki’s regular hero outfit. Also, her clip going across her chest matches Katsuki’s clips on his pants, and no one else has a clip that matches similarly like this.
Another strange matching example:
Ochako is clearly wearing a black tank top here, which is canonical and part of her style, and Katsuki is wearing some random black armband? Sure, Momo is wearing black too but Katsuki and this random black armband? A little suspicious
Finally, here are some common examples that people reminded me of, in case you weren’t aware of these already:
We all know that the Two Black Dots are the symbol of Katsuki and Ochako’s designer.You can argue that the dots on Ochako and Katsuki’s outfits in the previous examples are a callback to their designer, but… to stan a designer that much… both of them? Strange.
Also, they are the only two characters who match in the Volume 13 introduction page, which has them both wearing black tank tops. Sure, it’s a common fashion choice, but no one else shares any other outfit design so clearly.
Finally, in a personality swap AU, Katsuki is in Ochako’s body. A weird choice when it could have been anyone out of anyone in this series. But he chose to put Katsuki in Ochako.
They also tend to stand next to each other frequently, even if they’re not matching:
I’m sure I might be missing something here, or the colors are a little off or something, but that’s pretty much my post! If more stuff comes out, I’ll add it in here, but that’s my kacchako matching theory! Horikoshi is very delierate about what he is doing and why when it comes to this series, and it seems a little suspicious that they’re almost ALWAYS matching each other in some way in the pages, even when no one else is matching, and with little potential for anyone to be matching with anyone else. It’s honestly got my brain-gears turning. Even if it doesn’t indicate towards canon shipping, I definitely believe that Ochako and Katsuki may get a deeper friendship eventually in the series! If not, well, hey this was still fun. (:
If you want to see the original thread that started this, look here: https://twitter.com/hideandseaking/status/1012943972329762816
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[fic] The Power of Three 2/?(Garak/Bashir Parmak)
Thank Britney for this update haha though apologies because it ran long before any real porn starts so next chapter it's on like Donkey Kong...
Trash AU porn still dedicated to @borg-apologist and @eilupt
Part 1 is HERE
Summary: 23 year old virgin Julian Bashir, desperate to get laid, decides to use his mother’s old book of magic to make himself an elixir for virility. What he gets instead are two summoned Cardassians he’s convinced are sex demons. Julian is clueless, Garak is horny, and Parmak is in awe of that “monster cock”. Let the games begin :)
Modern AU but as explained in the fic, aliens are still aliens. Also note the pronouns used for Parmak were sort of made up for the story. The “j” has a hard “h” sound. (Like Jarritos which I have decided Cardassians are weirdly fond of)
Warnings: language, kind of crack, and Parmak is intersex (both prUt and fully penetrable ajan and nipples where Garak has none) barely sexy stuff happening, and made up magic with no relation to real magick
Onward!
One of the things that Garak loves the most about Parmak is how easy it is for jem to switch direction in jes thinking. Je’s always been fantastically adaptable and it isn’t more than a beat after Garak whispers that tempting little tease to jem that a discreet scenting of the air reveals that arousal starting to come to the forefront. It’s clear the human doesn’t see it, looking at the both of them unsure of how it should be proceeding although Garak is pleased to see that it appears quite eager, its hands hovering around the waistband of its undergarments.
“So... should I... um...?” Garak almost tells it to go ahead, the way that Parmak’s hands have shifted to his arm excited, those neatly trimmed claws started to dig into his scales. Not that it particularly matters but Garak supposes a name is in order and will make things easier in the long run.
“I don’t think there’s any need to get ahead of ourselves. I imagine that we’ll be spending some time together and it would only be polite to exchange names-” Garak sucks in a hiss between his teeth, Parmak’s claws digging harder with impatience, a soft whining chirrup reaching Garak’s ear. That eager for it are you, my dear? It’s a purely rhetorical little speculation. Garak already knows the answer quite clearly. Parmak commits to lovely acts of debauchery such as these with a frightening intensity that sometimes makes Garak worry for jes wellbeing. Today though, it seems infectious, Garak allowing for a moment the flash of an imagined waking dream behind his own eyes. He blanks out visually as the human says that its name is “Julian”, picturing that Julian creature on its knees behind Parmak riding him hard. Garak feels a flutter in his chest and a slight throb from his slit as he does.
“Are you thinking it too, Elim?” Parmak asks him starting to press jes face against the ridges of Garak’s neck.
Absolutely, he is. But Garak also has plans and ideas far beyond that delectable end game. He smiles at the human.
“Julian,” Garak repeats, Parmak repeating it as well committing the name to memory. “My name is Elim Garak, though you may call me Garak- just Garak. This is my dear friend Kelas Parmak.”
“Kelas is fine,” je says though jes accent is heavier. Garak debates briefly whether he should stroke that fire hotter or allow Parmak a moment to collect jemself. “You’re very attractive, Julian. Ah... I think we should get on well...” Garak is amused at how obviously Parmak’s attention is drawn to Julian’s groin. “You are male?” je asks. Julian looks bemused for a moment as if he’s never been asked before.
“Yes, sorry and you and Garak are?...”
“Male,” Garak answers thinking that he might have done well to commit some of the more sordid human encounters to memory that occasionally hit the late night feeds buried amidst other lurid tales because this part is just a bit out of his depth.
“X210 split sterile live breeder,” Parmak answers in Kardasi at first, obviously trying to think of how to even begin translating such a thing in human terms. “Mmm... you would say... Ah... hematite?” Je pauses at Julian’s expression. “No... like... both but more towards male? I’m not quite sure how such a thing translates. Linguistics aren’t my specialty but if I were to attempt a rough translation you’d say “je” or “jem”... like Jarritos if you’ve ever had the pineapple…. Well really it would probably be best just to show you. I hardly trust that I’ve conveyed it properly.”
“Oh yes please,” Julian says without giving it another thought. Guls, are all humans this eager for sexual relations? Though, Garak notices that Parmak is equally ready to go. He only hopes that the human can keep up with his dear doctor’s appetites…
Garak puts his hands over Parmak’s as je lets go of Garak’s arm, jes hands already on the hem of jes shift. It occurs to Garak momentarily that Julian’s dwelling is far more comfortable of a temperature than the other human habitats they’ve had chance to be summoned to. That’s certainly an auspicious sign that this human has similar preferences of warmth.
“Perhaps it would be best,” Garak says taking another assessing look to Julian’s thin frame, “that our host provides us with an idea of what it is that we... demons are going to be servicing. We are your loyal servants in your sexual endeavors, after all,” Garak says laying it on especially thick. Julian’s eyes are bright as they dart between Garak and Parmak.
“Of course! I do usually wear more than this,” Julian explains as he hooks fingers in his waistband and slowly tugs his undergarments down. “Heater’s been on the blink,” Garak half hears him say as he ducks his head self-consciously stepping out of the garment, turning his head and clearing his throat. That leaves the two Cardassians a nice moment to muse about small little hole in his abdomen that doesn’t appear to be a wound. Garak wonders what purpose it serves as he lets his eyes fall down the trail of dark hair leading to a thick patch of it around the human’s prominent piece. He can’t help but marvel at the impracticality of such a long low hanging ch’och. Not that Garak is complaining, after all, he’s perfectly free to enjoy it without having to deal with the encumbrance of having it attached to his own frame.
“Guls,” he hears Parmak breathe next to him, seeing jes hands steal up to adjust jes glasses. “Do you think all of it will even fit?” Garak feels a wide grin spread over his face as he lets his hand slip back to Parmak’s thigh, letting his pinkie slide just a little between that juncture, not quite brushing jes covered slit.
“Are you excited to find out?” He feels a subtle push, Parmak as always, so nice and warm. There’s a soft hiss in the affirmative that reaches his ears almost tempting him to give in to heedless instant gratification as well. Ah, but Garak has better control than that.
“Is this alright then?” Julian asks sounding a touch uncertain. If Parmak’s heightened scent of arousal - and certainly his own - is anything to go by then it’s a silly question to even have to ask but Garak is well aware that humans aren’t able to scent the air in the same manner that they are. A pity but even a human’s poor senses cannot possibly be that oblivious.
“I assure you, Julian it is...” Garak searches for the proper praise. “...a splendid tribute to the human form.” Which actually begs the question, “so perhaps you’ll forgive my inquiry as to why you felt it necessary to divine some elixir to aid you in your sexual conquests.”
“Oh well ah…” Julian appears embarrassed by the question. “I don’t seem to have much luck in that department. Not for lack of trying I just never well…” Garak watches him scratching the back of his neck with a nervous little grin. Do humans have an odd sense of aesthetic? He doesn’t appear diseased, he’s got a long thin fragile looking neck, his entire frame appears rather delicate, slim like the water reeds along the coast of the Morfan Sea. Julian appears to be all long, lanky limbs and Garak would almost fear for being too rough with him, but he recalls hearing that unlike Elaysians, humans tend to be much sturdier than they appear. It would seem in poor manners to inquire further although Garak is already burning with curiosity.
“Mmm, that’s a shame,” Garak hears Parmak saying, stepping out from beside him. “You’re quite attractive, I’d say. Where we’re from ah… in the other place,” je covers a bit poorly. Julian doesn’t notice the odd choice of words, instead stiff like a frightened vole caught out in the light. “Your skin is fascinating too,” Parmak observes softly. “Might I?...”
“Oh yes! Yes, anything you’d like, anywhere I don’t mind!” Julian exclaims, holding his hands up high in the air his elongated body definitely looking like one of those reeds now. Garak notes that he also has those dark patches of hair under his arms wondering what purpose such a pointless covering of fur might serve. Could it be a sensitive area that requires prot-
“Hah!” Julian jumps back, hands over his chest when Parmak strokes that very spot, making Parmak jump as well looking concerned. “Sorry,” Julian rushes out, “it’s just ticklish er… sensitive,” he clarifies at the confused expressions. Ticklish? It’s a word that Garak has never heard before and he makes a mental note to investigate further at some point. Still, he doesn’t allow his focus to divert for long as he watches Parmak’s hands moving over Julian’s chest, finger poking at one of his nipples – curious to see them on a male, though they’re definitely smaller. He can’t imagine what purpose they serve. Do human males also nurse their young? Parmak has them though je’s sterile so it’s a bit of a wasted purpose and as for Garak, well he’s a hatcher, not a live breeder like Parmak.
Garak’s eyes are a greedy study watching as Parmak’s hands rub over Julian’s arms, ghost over his neck, and Garak almost wanted to ask jem to move a bit so he could see Julian’s body better. Still, that leaves Garak free to study Julian’s face – especially when Parmak lightly lets jes fingers brush Julian’s… cock, he thinks is the proper vernacular. The completely unabashed look of pleasure when je does that is quite a sight. Clearly Julian wasn’t lying when he said he’d never done this before. That gives Garak an idea; an absolutely wicked idea. Parmak might not exactly thank him at first considering that je’s practically vibrating as je goes to pull off the top layer of jes outfit saying that “fair is fair” after all. Garak imagines the impish little grin on jes face with Julian staring so blatantly.
“Perhaps, my dear,” Garak suggests as Parmak has it pulled halfway, “you might allow Julian the experience of undressing you seeing as how this is his first time.” The impatient glare that Parmak shoots back as je half turns mouthing “what are you doing Elim?” is amusing.
“I thought that we might endeavor to provide the dear boy with a little instruction, Kelas. You do enjoy teaching, don’t you?” Garak keeps his tone light but surely Parmak must realize how much of a torture he’ll be subjecting himself to. Je hesitates only a moment before returning that grin, a flash of eagerness in jes eyes as je pushes jes glasses up. The things are forever slipping down no matter how many adjustments they make at the shop.
“True… but I should leave that to you for the moment, shouldn’t I, Elim? You do enjoy the sound of yourself orating…”
“I love the sounds you make when you come undone, Kelas.”
“Oh then… by all means… tell him what to do, Elim.”
—
Julian is sure that he’s looking at the two demons confused while they hiss back and forth at each other. Are they having an argument? It hardly looks like it. If Julian had to guess he’d sooner put his money on some sort of strange mating song the way the air crackles between the two of them. He’s about to ask when Parmak turns back to him with a gesture that looks like it may resemble something of a shrug.
“Elim is right, Julian,” Parmak says holding jes arms out at jes sides. “We would be remiss in not seeing to your proper instruction. You did summon us after all and it may not have been the result you were seeking but perhaps we can still be of help.” Julian spends far more time staring at the soft looking gray scales of Parmak’s skin, fixated on the ridges around jes collarbone and the faint blue dip in the center. But seriously? This is well beyond a consolation prize and well, he may not be able to actually tell anyone that he made it with a demon but…
“May I touch you?” Julian asks, hands hovering.
“Please.” Julian really wants to touch that little spot and see how it feels but he was given an order but… but surely one little touch… He reaches out and just lets his fingers run along the ridges trailing down to it, seeing Parmak tense when he does. “Oh that’s fine… light… it feels a little… strange like…”
“Tickling?” Julian asks nervously, still not quite believing that he’s standing in his living room in front of some mess of a summoning circle. Maybe he should have cleaned all that up? Well bit of a moot issue now.
“Ah, that’s the word… tickling… ticklish,” It sounds like je’s saying “chiclets” and Julian cracks a smile. “Yes you can do it harder. We… ah demons are quite resilient,” Parmak assures him and Julian supposes that makes sense what with traveling astral planes or however it was that the demons came to Earth from the other world. It must take an awful lot of effort.
Julian obeys, running his thumb over those collar ridges with his thumb more firmly, feeling the ripple, like a soft pliable resin. He runs it around seeing Parmak shiver and he asks if he might put his mouth to it.
“Your mouth, your teeth you can, hnn…tsss…” Julian hears a hiss as he presses soft kisses to those little mountains along Parmak’s collar, tasting skin that isn’t salty like human skin but like fine leather or like a soft snake skin – not that Julian’s ever put a snake in his mouth! – and maybe it’s all the movies that he’s watched which started this same way but his hands are already slowly easing the straps of the shift over Parmak’s shoulders as he does. He thinks it might be a tickle again so he lets his teeth graze that center point as the fabric slips easily off as loose as it was. Julian’s only slightly dismayed to realize there was another layer underneath, a violet camisole. It’s like unwrapping a present really.
“Yes, that’s a good boy, you certainly don’t need to be so delicate with jem,” Julian hears Garak say and he gives an experimental bite, nearly jumping when he feels Parmak’s hands on his shoulders digging in.
“Hah…” reaches his ears and he’s afraid that he did it too hard but that’s when Julian notices that those defined ridges are flushing darker gray. So maybe that’s their equivalent of a blush of some other form of arousal? Julian hears more of that Parseltongue between the two of them and he’s surprised to hear something half angry sounding as Parmak pushes him back.
“Ah… you’re fine but I’m… taking this off,” je says and Julian watches eagerly as the thin strapped petal of violet is peeled off and there’s an incredible moment of anticipation in watching the abdomen revealed, more gray skin, so smooth looking with just the faintest ripples differentiating it from human skin, until it meets a fine line of those scaly ridges and Julian watches, watches, waits, wants to know just what’s undeneath the rest as Parmak pulls the top off wearing just a pair of what appear to be white silk bloomers tied loosely low around slim but still feminine hips. Je doesn’t have a navel, Julian notices.
Parmak’s chest isn’t quite flat, and Julian stares longingly seeing there are two dark gray nipples hard, atop just the faintest of soft peaks, something that’s neither entirely male or female but just a small raise of flesh that he wants to-
“Alright, between you and Elim we’ll be here all day and some of us have shifts and regular hours and ah... right right,” Parmak stops suddenly, leaving Julian to wonder what any of that means or what sort of shift or work a demon might have and... And he stops wondering when Parmak grabs his hand and puts it to jes chest with a grumble of “there now can we continue please”. Oh Julian can continue. He can do that! The skin is so soft, his thumb flicking what has to be one of the most perfect nipples in existence seeing the motions of ridges around Parmak’s eyes, darker, swollen, jes neck ridges doing the same and Julian’s mouth is to it like some desperate virgin in a Milky hentai do not judge!
He hears some sort of raucous around him, more hissing between the both of them as he swirls his tongue around it, hearing soft hitches, hands back on his shoulders but this time not digging in just... clutching. Oh lord that’s so sensitive, not even a little handful as Julian’s left hand steals over squeezing, groping, a bit of an awkward bend as tall as he is. He hears something that sounds like ”ysysysys” as that tongue flits back and retracts to his mouth on it sucking hard, hearing a soft keen above him and he thinks he hears Garak murmur something about strange human proclivities with Parmak telling him to stuff it, begging Julian to keep doing that. Julian doesn’t need to be told twice, sucking harder, rolling its twin between his fingers tugging hard, rough, seeing that Parmak is nearly sobbing and Julian is so hard he already thinks he’s going to come or collapse to his knees as much as Parmak’s hands are pushing on his shoulders and he can...
Oh... Oh that’s a scent he hadn’t noticed before. Arousal, that has to be arousal - and it’s not like he goes around ordering used panties online or anything that he’s some sort of expert - because there’s some visceral part of him that can smell that heavy musk in the air and he groans deeply sort of wishing he’d rubbed one out before all this because that would take the edge off that he desperately needs right now. The high little hitches from Parmak are turning him to fourth gear something fierce as he switches sides, hands, stopping in the middle to let his mouth worship that vibrant blue dip. Julian can feel the give of those swollen ridges beneath his mouth and he hears some swear or his name but it’s so slurred that he can hardly tell. He looks up to Parmak’s mouth because of course enough blood’s gone to his cock he actually thinks for a second he can lip read when he stops, seeing lips parted so pretty and tempting and-
“Can I... kiss you please?” Julian asks though what he really means is “May I please pull you close and grind against you with my tongue in your mouth because whatever is between your legs I’d very much like to rub against it right now thank you.”
“K-kiss?” he hears Parmak ask confused, glasses slipping down on jes nose. “The ah... human mouth thing? I’m ah... afraid I don’t know it very well.”
“Then you could consider it a learning experience for you both, couldn’t you, Kelas?” Julian hears Garak say and when he looks behind Parmak he sees the other demon watching them both intently, the ridges of his face and neck also flushed darker. Parmak says something else to Garak, another exchange before Garak with a wicked smirk on his face answers back. Parmak’s tongue darts out a moment and je gives a breathless answer of “alright. But you may be disappointed so I ah... just... okay, go on then...” Julian tries, he honest to god tries not to just rush in like that fish man from The Slayers about to make out with Lina Inverse but well perhaps he’s just a bit too enthusiastic and it’s not like he hasn’t kissed plenty of people before. It’s the after kissing part that’s stalling him after all. Oh god, maybe that’s it, maybe he’s a horrible kisser!
Parmak doesn’t seem to notice Julian’s moment of existential kissing crisis, rather instead trying to figure out where to put jes hands. Julian doesn’t have that problem, letting his hands slink over those slim hips, pulling their bodies together, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head at the feel of silk satin something sliding against his naked prick. He may let his hands just slip the rest of the way around feeling the swell of Parmak’s ass through that nothing bit of fabric using that opportunity to pull them closer together. He’s a bit surprised not to also feel a penis since Parmak said je was both or something along those lines but what he does feel is warm and wet and so hot against him he doesn’t care if its a bloody Octopussoir right now his mouth is going on it next you read it here first.
So Julian’s a bit like a dog with its tongue hanging out giving a ridiculous swiping lick to Parmak’s mouth catching half jes nose in the process. He’s about to apologize seeing a double blink at him from behind those spectacles in response. It’s not his fault, it’s really not! Julian was caught off guard when Parmak decided to just copy his motions; he felt sharp little claws digging into his ass like they were testing a mattress. Alright, so maybe his fat ass father has had more than his fair share of comments about Julian’s “poor lack of posterior are you sure he’s mine Am? Haha, are you sure he’s even yours?” His mother teases him that maybe one day he’ll wake up and it’ll have grown in and he almost thinks that Parmak is saying the same sort of shitty joke to Garak in that stupid Parseltongue and if he had a wand right now he might be tempted to hex them both because he’s positive he’s caught a snicker between the two of them.
Except Parmak smiles at him before tilting jes head, diving back in with an enthusiasm that’s stunning, giving Julian one of the most heated, heavy fucking kisses he’s ever gotten in his life making his toes curl into the carpet.
It may also sort of make him come, his seed surely staining Parmak’s silky bloomers between them.
Yeah, he may also kind of sort of wants to die right about now too…
(Part 3 is now up HERE)
#star trek ds9#star trek deep space nine#ds9 fanfic#au#humor#sort of crack#Garak/Bashir/Parmak#Julian Bashir#Elim Garak#Kelas Parmak#shitty magic#too many pop culture and anime references#fanfic#update#cyrelia-j
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Chapter 1: Wedding Day
It’s a 7 a.m. in a Spring Sunday morning. The weather, fresh, after a mild rainy night in London.
Two men in their late 20s are in bed together. Both in their pyjamas. The one on the left side of the bed, both eyes wide open, thoughtful in a mixture of feelings between excitement and anxiety (of course, it was his wedding day and not being with his partner made everything feel strange since it’d been a while since the last time they didn’t sleep together). He was decently tall and fit, his eyes had a subtle combination of green and brown, dark brown hair with pronounced receding lines. His features were that of a southern Italian but he always said: “I’m Venezuelan born with Italian roots, and English soul”.
The man on the right side of the bed was deep in sleep. This one, as English as tea: he was tall, mildly shabby, light brown eyes, light brown hair and white skin. He offered to stay the night as to fulfil his”best man” duties and distract Niccolo (the man on his left) in the case of an “overthinking” crisis that he would be bailed on.
Niccolo would take a glimpse to his left and see how David would be in deep sleep, making him smile in amusement. It was funny because David was a caring mate, although his laid-back personality would sometimes get in the way, giving the opposite impression; but Niccolo had learnt how to go along with it as his soft spot for England, and the English people themselves, would be stronger that his obsessive personality that had caused damaged in previous friendships. David, in return, would be patient for a man who was moody, as Niccolo was a man full of emotions, making him a rather intense human being.
The long staring would wake David up, which was not Niccolo’s intention since it was a sense of love instead of anger.
“Good morning”, Niccolo said with a cheeky smile. His accent, pretty English or as some would describe “boarding school accent”. He was surprised even the English would think his accent was posh. His family usually made fun of the way he spoke for sounding “too classy”.
“I overslept, didn’t I?” said David in a sleepy voice.
“Not quite. It’s just 7am”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m dead excited because I...am getting married”, Niccolo ended in a squeaky voice. One that would come every time there was a massive sense of excitement taking over him.
“I’m just going to start getting ready”, Niccolo continued in the squeaky voice as he got up swiftly.
“How are you doing, by the way?”, Niccolo continued casually as he remembered he forgot to ask
“I’m good.”, David said in a more awake voice.
“How do you think he is doing?”, Niccolo said with a sudden change of mood. One that was of concern.
“Yep. Time to start my best man duties”, David said as he got up.
“I’m pretty sure that he is fine. Jeremy is with him and I haven’t heard from him. So I’m pretty sure everything is cool”.
“You are saying pretty sure”, Niccolo added with a dramatic sense a lot.
“Nick, Stop thinking and start getting ready”, David said in a mockingly threatening voice as he said it slowly.
David and Niccolo would have a fun relationship. It was a balance between jokes, overdramatic impressions, being funny and every now and then getting lost in deep conversations. David was a straight man but Niccolo’s straight-acting personality was what would give him confidence to be mates when he first found out Niccolo was gay and since David hand’t had any gay friends, he would be sceptical at first, but the more he got to know Niccolo, the more he realised there was no way Niccolo would fall in love with him, which resulted in a bromance neither of them could live without. David would later realise,since Niccolo was gay, he was the perfect wing-man. This would usually backfire with his straight mates as they ended with the girl he wanted in the first place.
Niccolo would start making breakfast and start getting everything ready, he was like a machine, mostly when anxiety took over him. David would only make small talk to get him distracted as it made him feel he was helping.
Going three years back, Niccolo was a pretty lonely man. Making friends was not easy as the company he worked for was packed with people whose lives were sorted (married and with kids), not to mention being 26 at the time, made it harder to connect with those whom he could tell were at least 15 years older. Most of his friends lived abroad as England was the country he chose to move to with no previous history and attending social events would not make it easy to make friends past the day. Niccolo recurred to the dating apps as he hated the gay scene. Not that he had not tried it but it was an environment that made him feel “regular” world.
A dating match on the day Niccolo was attending a table game event would keep him distracted, paying more attention to his phone than to the games, which was funny since he criticised the people who did that but having a match that would keep the conversation going was something he hand’t experienced for months, and as the last one resulted in a terrible heartbreak, Niccolo was more than willing to keep his focus on having a boyfriend rather than making new friends. Niccolo was “the boyfriend” kind: the one who would like to dedicate himself to one person instead to a group of people.
The man he chat with was younger, 23 years old to be more precise, and cute looking. He seemed to be charismatic by the way he sounded on text but Niccolo knew that he may not be like that in real life.
“Have you had many boyfriends?”, Niccolo wrote this man called Daniel.
“I have had some but my relationships haven’t worked out because I am usually more delivered than they are. They are too selfish”, Daniel replied.
A massive sense of satisfaction took over Niccolo. Someone who would make a comment like that would have to be kind, he thought.
The conversation would keep going all day until the night when Daniel said: “Would you like to go out for coffee?”
Niccolo was extremely excited. Going out as soon as possible was something he desired to avoid creating a different man in his head, but he didn’t want to make the first move to avoid coming off too strongly and scare Daniel away.
“What about having lunch?”, Niccolo said.
“Perfect”, Daniel responded.
“I’m really looking forward to it”, Daniel said.
Niccolo was excited, to the point that he didn’t sleep that night. He woke up early to clean the flat in the case things worked out and they ended there. Niccolo was not into hookups but a sense of sexual anxiety would make him feel that he would take a chance if it was given to him to see what all the fuss was about.
Getting ready was fun as Niccolo would wear a shirt with different tones of red, brown trousers, a red V jumper and a black jacket along with a poor boy hat that he thought made him look cool.
Niccolo and Daniel were set to meet at London Bridge station as it was closer to both of them. Niccolo was on his way when he received a text from Daniel saying he was already there which was perfect since Niccolo was early as well.
Niccolo arrives the exit of the London Bridge station looking for the Daniel. Passes a man who seems to be him but writes him from a different side to avoid the awkwardness of asking a stranger if it’s his date. After texting him, Niccolo realises it was the man he first thought. The photos on his profile were quite overselling as the man standing in front of him was geeky-looking: big glasses, a grey jumper, short light brown hair, jeans and boots.
“It seems closeted men have a better sense of fashion”, Niccolo thought since his sense of style was better than Daniel’s.
Daniel was openly gay and it was no surprise since the way he talked was that of a camp but not only that, he spoke fast and in a posh manner, as if everything was amusing and obvious. The way he walked, was funny as he jumped up and down (Niccolo was always made fun of for walking exactly the same way and that’s when he realised what people talked about as he didn’t notice) and his shoulders were set back as if he was tense.
“One of my coworkers is in software and he earns very well”, Daniel said as they were both walking to the restaurant nearby the Thames river.
“Well. I feel I’m earning decently well for a junior”, Niccolo said.
“I have a massive sense of respect for people who do what you do. You have to be really smart for that”, Daniel said.
“I don’t consider myself that smart”, Niccolo said.
The restaurant was a casual one with a family sense. It looked like a cave with a massive window for the entrance wall to let the light enter, and high-raised ceilings. Niccolo and Daniel would sit opposite one another at a table for two and talk about random things such as Daniel’s undergrad which was in literature and the fact he studied in Scotland because he wanted to be away from home (Nottingham).
Niccolo spoke about his masters to which Daniel replied: “I might do a masters one day but in Germany. Not here.”, he said.
Daniel was a massive fan of travelling whereas Niccolo wasn’t. One of the diverting points of the chat the day before as Daniel was eagerly looking for a travel buddy and Niccolo would express his comfort with staying home.
The conversation led to the point where they talked about zodiac signs since Daniel’s birthday had been the week before and Niccolo had no idea what his sign was.
“Well. I’m a Taurus. We are known for having a temper”, Niccolo said.
“A man who studied science believes in such things”, Daniel said in an arrogant voice as if trying to be funny and with a sense of superiority.
“I believe it helps define the personality of a human being” Niccolo said casually as if not irritated by Daniel’s arrogance.
The conversation would last for an hour until they left the restaurant, setting off on the Queen’s Walk towards the London Eye in a chilly cloudy day of February.
Niccolo would try to make conversation about Pop music but Daniel avoided it, leading to moments of silence. He gave the impression he did not want to be judged.
When walking near the London Eye, the crowd would increase, Daniel would walk faster than Niccolo, leading him Daniel to turn sideways in a way that gave the impression he was afraid of being bailed on.
“I’m here”, Niccolo said in a cute way as he appeared next to Daniel. Daniel would go on and gently grab Niccolo’s hand to avoid losing him again. Niccolo as Daniel did this, was feeling happily overwhelmed, for a man like Niccolo would not feel attractive for a man like Daniel.
They kept walking past the London eye and under the bridge to a less crowded zone. A place Niccolo hand’t been before. One that would look more industrial as the buildings were taller and less people were waking around the area. They walked to one of the bridges to set their return towards the Big Ben. As they were crossing the bridge Daniel goes: “You are very attractive” as they come to a halt. Niccolo blushes. Daniel was the third man he’d gone out with and none had flirted with him.
“You are blushing”, Daniel says delicately.
“Thanks. You are really attractive as well”, Niccolo says shyly as he keeps blushing.
They walk towards the Big Ben until Niccolo sees benches close to the river.
“Do you want to sit for a while?”, Niccolo says.
“Sure”, Daniel replies.
As they sit, Daniel makes a move and lies on Niccolo and in return, Niccolo holds him gently.
“Do you live alone?”, Daniel says in a more relaxed manner.
“I do. You?”
“I have flatmates”, Daniel said.
“I know what that’s like, I had flatmates last year and it was a nightmare”, Niccolo says.
Daniel sighs with a sound as if he had heard a joke. A sounds that went along with the way he spoke, somehow camp and posh altogether.
Daniel sits straight and looks at Niccolo. Niccolo realises the beauty of Daniel’s blue eyes and after few seconds of staring into another’s eyes, Daniel makes the move and kisses Niccolo.
As they were kissing, Niccolo felt uncomfortable. Public displays of affection were not something he was massively fond of but he kept going as he felt he was an utterly rubbish kisser whilst kissing Daniel, to which he thought was true as Daniel would stop after mere seconds of starting.
“I want to watch a film”, Daniel said as he want back to lying on Niccolo.
Niccolo knew what it meant but he needed to make sure.
“As in the cinema or as in Netflix?”, Niccolo said intrigued.
“Netflix”, Daniel said.
“Bingo”, Niccolo thought.
“Do you want to go to my flat?”, Niccolo said.
“Yes”, Daniel said.
Daniel got up swiftly. He seemed eager about it and they both set off walking towards the Westminster underground station. Daniel was shaking as he didn’t take a coat with him and the weather was freezing and they both started walking fast to the station, always holding hands.
Once on the train, they set off to Canada Water, where Niccolo lived. When they were on the train, they were sitting side by side in the area where the trolleys or disabled people went. They would casually look at one another and Daniel would rest his head upon Niccolo’s shoulders.
Niccolo didn’t know what was going on. He felt it was not meant to last as Daniel seemed to be affectionate too quickly but Niccolo thought he’d enjoy it for as long as it’d last.
Once in Canada Water and out in the cold, cloudy weather. Daniel would start shaking again. Niccolo offered his coat to Daniel until he gave in by saying: “I’m done being polite. Yes, I’ll take it”.
Niccolo would take off his coat, put it on Daniel and they both set off to Niccolo’s flat as they held hands. Niccolo felt chilly but not enough to feel cold.
“Were you afraid I’d leave you?”, Niccolo asked.
“Well, I have your coat now so I know you won’t”, Daniel said.
They were walking past a shopping centre and to a road with different shops on the opposite side of the street such as laundry facilities and Chinese and Portuguese restaurants that would later lead to houses that looked similar on the right hand side of the road and what looked like state houses on the left in a rather busy street.
They turn to a places with different flats and up the stair’s to Niccolo’s. Once inside, they get to the living room after passing small hallway. The flat was small but cosy. A small table for four and furniture where on top there were several music CDs and the wall that would lead to the street, covered in windows leading to a building of flats in front. The kitchen, connected to the living room, was half the size. The sunlight would enter the flat but delicately as the only way to look at the sky was by getting close to the windows.
Niccolo got in first and when he turns around, he sees Daniel faces moving towards him. Yet, another kiss that didn’t feel less awkward even though they were no spectators this time.
“Shall we move to the couch?”, Niccolo said.
“Sure”, Daniel answered.
Niccolo was lying on Daniel as they kissed. Daniel interrupted suddenly by saying: “You look like Daniel Radcliffe” as he saw a photo of Niccolo in his graduation robes.
“Nothing better than being proved right I’m a terrible kisser”, Niccolo said sarcastically as he felt Daniel’s comment killed the mood for this reason.
“We should move to the bedroom”, Daniel said in a sexual tone as he takes off his shoes.
“I am just noticing how skinny you are”, Daniel said.
As they stand, Daniel kissed Niccolo and says: “You are getting better”, to which Niccolo did not believe.
Daniel turns around and takes the lead by holding his hands backwards to Niccolo's as he follows him to the bedroom.
The room had a king sized bed, it was set to a height lower than usual beds and there was barely any space between the bed and the furniture opposite. As the living room, the wall leading to the street would have a massive window and the curtains were not dark enough to cover the sunlight.
They get on the bed and start snogging, something that takes a while. It was Niccolo’s first time.
Daniel takes off his shirt and Niccolo realises what Daniel meant before: his belly was well pronounced but that didn’t bother Niccolo. Niccolo does the same and Niccolo realises what it’s like to feel skin to skin as his previous kiss-encounters didn’t get as far as Niccolo was a overly cautious man.
Niccolo was taking the lead by being overly affectionate. He was gently kissing Daniel’s body from neck to waist to which Daniel made sounds that made Niccolo felt he was making up for being such a rubbish snogger.
One thing leads to another and they are both in their pants and when the right moment comes, Niccolo says: “This is it” as he realises he has to take the lead if he wants to have sex.
By the time they were finished, it was dark. Niccolo felt awkward as he didn’t do what he referred to as “releasing himself”. Daniel had no problem doing so, he even fell asleep on Niccolo’s arm.
Niccolo felt awkward and wanted to check his phone but Daniel was well asleep and he was trying to set his arm free without waking him up. It took him around ten minutes as he embraced Daniel as “a romantic move” to try to set himself free. Once he did, he went back to the living room to check his phone to avoid the feeling he was slut (although the kind of sex they had was the “safest”) but after a minute he went back to find Daniel awake in a sleepy mode. The kissing restarted and Daniel asks: “Have you done this before with a man?”
Niccolo, close to Daniel’s face shakes his head in a rather cute manner as he the expression that takes over his face is that of a puppy.
“A girl?”, Daniel continues.
Niccolo repeats the same gesture.
“Oh, I’m your first?”, Daniel says surprised as he rolls Niccolo over.
Niccolo found it funny the man waits until after sex to ask. He assumed he knew by saying he’d never had a boyfriend before and not gone on many dates.
“I hope you don’t think I am the love of your life for being your first”, Daniel says in a tone with an essence of remorse.
“Oh. I don’t want to break your heart”, Daniel says with guilt as if he’d screwed up.
“Don’t worry”, Niccolo says casually. He felt Daniel was a hookup lad so he felt it wouldn’t last but would enjoy the relationship until he was pushed away.
Niccolo and Daniel were lying next to each other when Daniel seems to want to be deep in conversation as he asks about Niccolo’s view of religion as Niccolo says he believes in a God but not as the way portrayed by religion and Daniel says he’s an atheist that believes in some years it will proven there is no god.
Niccolo trying to keep the conversation going, says: “Question: Girls Aloud or Sugabes?”
Girls Aloud and Sugababes were two different Pop girl bands that ruled the 2000s music charts in the UK. Niccolo was a massive Girls Aloud fan to the point that after announcing their split in 2013, he was almost moved to tears.
“I’d say Sugababes”, Daniel replies followed by a singing whisper of the chorus of “Too Lost In You”.
“Lovely”, Niccolo says as he feels awkward by the singing.
“Mine is Girls Aloud”, Niccolo says once Daniel finishes singing.
“Girls Aloud?”, Daniel says in his usual arrogant tone
“What is it? ‘Sound of the Underground’. Really?”, Daniel continues.
“The production behind the songs are amazing”, Niccolo says mildly irritated.
“Give me a Girls Aloud song”, Daniel says.
“Untouchable”, Niccolo replied.
As the conversation kept going, Daniel would trash Niccolo as he hugged him. Niccolo felt Daniel suffered from mood swings as this overly excited man hadn’t shown up all day until then. Once again, awkwardness taking over Niccolo but he really liked Daniel’s company. He found him huggable and lovely despite his arrogance.
“We should meet next week. What are you doing next week”, Daniel says.
Niccolo was surprised since he felt Daniel would start ignoring him by the next day.
“Nothing”, Niccolo said casually.
“Please, don’t give away you are such a loser. Let me guess. You are one of those who had a first”, Daniel says.
“As a matter of fact I did”, Niccolo says.
“Let’s meet on Tuesday”, Daniel says.
“Sure. Remind me, please”, Niccolo says.
After a minute’s silence, Niccolo says: “Well, I don’t want you to leave but somebody has to be the big man. It’s Sunday”, as the clock turned 9pm.
As they get dressed, Niccolo says: “I’ll go with you to Canada Water”.
“You don’t have to do that”, Daniel says.
“I want to”, Niccolo says.
As they head off, Daniel starts shaking again and Niccolo offers his coat, to which Daniel denies this time by saying: “I believe people pay the price for their actions”.
They walk holding hands until they get to the station. Daniel farewells Niccolo with a swift kiss and Niccolo sets back home to his flat after he sees Daniel disappear from sight.
Niccolo writes Daniel to tell him when he arrives home and they keep the conversation going until Niccolo says: “Good night, mate”
Daniel replies: “I’m not your mate”
Niccolo replied back, intrigued: “What are you then?”
“To be determined”, Daniel writes.
Niccolo, feeling over the moon, says: “So I have to introduce you as ‘this is my TBD’?”
Daniel says: “Yes”.
Niccolo can’t help but smile. Could this be it? Daniel was a sexually active man so if he said those things, maybe he wants to be more involved, Niccolo thought as he went to sleep feeling amazingly well. He felt there was a lot of uncertainty and that it was not meant to last but at least, he would try to enjoy it as much as he could.
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The Quiet Storms of Sofia Coppola
Filmmaker Sofia Coppola is known for the dreamy quality of her visuals, awash in emotion and atmosphere. At a special talk at the Provincetown International Film Festival last week, where she was honored for her body of work, director John Waters asked the 46-year-old Coppola if she could imagine directing a movie she didn’t write. “I can’t,” she replied. “When people send me scripts occasionally, I just can’t even imagine it. The whole [moviemaking process] starts with daydreaming about something.”
Coppola’s new movie, The Beguiled, is the second film adapted from Thomas Cullinan’s 1966 novel set during the Civil War. The intrigue begins when Corporal John McBurney (Colin Farrell), a handsome, injured Union soldier enters the grounds of an all-girls school in the South, turning the lives of the students and teachers upside down. Coppola hadn’t seen the tawdry and overheated (but frankly enjoyable) 1971 movie The Beguiled starring Clint Eastwood until a couple years ago when her production designer Anne Ross told she had to see it and she needed to remake the movie.
“I wanted to show desire as something human, instead of something strange,” Coppola tells us earlier that same day when we sit down on the porch of The Lands End Inn to discuss the film. It’s certainly a different approach than that of Don Siegel. “The Beguiled is … not a picture for women, but about them,” Siegel once said of his lurid adaptation. “Women are capable of deceit, larceny, murder, anything … Any young girl who looks perfectly harmless is capable of murder.”
Coppola explains that she never wanted to remake Siegel’s film. Instead, she was drawn to exploring the premise of a group of cloistered Southern women who hadn’t been around a man in a long time from a feminine perspective. “The Don Siegel movie is really from this man’s point of view,” she says. “I was interested in connecting to the female characters and to how [the events] affect them. The whole picture is really from their point of view.”
Cullinan’s book is also told from the women’s perspective—each chapter features a different woman telling the story—but Coppola’s adaptation is loose. “It’s very pulpy, it’s not great literature,” she notes. “But I would go back to it and get more information. There was this slave character in the book who was really this corny, stereotypical voice and I just took that character out. There was an incest storyline. I took out all the things that I felt weren’t connected with what I wanted to talk about.”
Coppola’s goal, throughout, seems to be to make her characters believable and true to life from a psychological standpoint—for us to understand how this operatic story could have unfolded. We mention the scene in her film where the women and girls gather around a piano and sing for McBurney because it typifies her portrayal of desire in The Beguiled. It features a striking sequence of images, in which the viewer sees the long-sequestered female characters from the corporal’s perspective. An array of women and girls in pastel-colored dresses stand across the room from him, giving him coy, seductive looks, and sidelong glances. “Oh yeah. I love that moment!” she exclaims. “It’s so funny and weird when you see them all together [looking at him].”
In Coppola’s version, the schoolteacher Edwina (Kirsten Dunst) is demure and dutiful, with a slightly wilted quality and a dim light in her eyes. “I thought this was sort of her last chance to have a mature woman’s life,” Coppola says. “She’s stuck at this girls’ school, and she puts all her hope on this guy. To me, she has a lot of hope, but it is, in the end, hopeless for her.” In Siegel’s movie, Edwina appears only slightly older than the girls at the school, and seems to function almost like a student teacher at the seminary, whereas the age difference between Coppola’s Edwina and her pupils is noticeable. (Dunst is 35; Elle Fanning, who plays a flirtatious older student, is 19.) “I think it makes it sadder, because it’s her last chance—that moment,” Coppola answers. “She was coming of age when there was no possibility of any men around.”
Coppola has arresting, almond-shaped eyes and she maintains eye contact throughout our conversation, never once diverting her attention. Her demeanor is relaxed and she has a sense of humor, but her serious eyes convey her intelligence and depth. Sometimes she speaks so quietly that we can’t discern what she is saying.
When we ask why she chose to have Colin Farrell use his real-life accent, unaware that his character was an Irish immigrant in the novel, she goes out of her way to avoid pointing out our ignorance. “When I met him, I thought, ‘He’s so charming with his accent,’” she explains. “And then in the book, he’s an Irish immigrant, so I thought, ‘Oh, it’d be cool to have him play it like the fictional character.’ And also, I thought it would make him more exotic to the women.”
When Coppola won her Oscar for best original screenplay for Lost in Translation, she mentioned some of the filmmakers who inspired her, like Antonioni and Wong Kar-wai. We ask which female filmmakers inspired her when she was growing up. “Jane Campion has always been a big hero of mine,” Coppola says. “You know, she made The Piano (1993) and was part of international cinema, and it made a big impression on me to see her as a strong female voice in film when I was around a lot of macho guys.”
And what about female filmmakers from the ‘60s or '70s?
“Chantal Akerman made a big impression on me. When I was working on Somewhere, I was really influenced by her work.”
Coppola has long been recognized as a master of mood, and some fans may be disappointed that The Beguiled doesn’t linger a little longer in its shots, that its editing seems clipped and deeply in service to the story. But Coppola still thinks in terms of images. Though she conceives and writes all of her movies herself, she is, above all, a visual storyteller. When we tell her that we love the shots of the female characters seen from outside the grounds of the school, she thanks us, before adding a remark that harkens back to her first feature film, The Virgin Suicides (1999): “I had that image of them stuck behind the gate when I was writing it.”
“And I loved the idea of all this sexual repression brimming under the surface in the heat of the south,” she muses, “and getting into that whole mood.”
“But I felt that in your movie the characters seemed, more than anything, lonely,” we reply. “In the Don Siegel movie, they were—”
“Nuts,” Coppola says.
“Yeah, it was much more primal. In yours, it was—”
“More emotional,” Coppola murmurs. “I was trying to think about what it was like for them. I don’t think Don Siegel was thinking about that.”
THE BEGUILED COMES OUT IN SELECT THEATERS IN NEW YORK AND LOS ANGELES TODAY, JUNE 23 2017, AND WILL EXPAND NEXT WEEK.
—Julia Yepes
Editor: Emma Brown
June 23, 2017
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