#always been fond of nightclub colors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malachite-isms · 5 years ago

Text

Team RWBY's Kissmas Challenge pt1

(The idea for this came to me after rereading a prompted post by @miss-pyrrha-nikos-isms that was very well written. I wanted to write this before I forgot, and before Christmas was too far gone. In any case, enjoy!)

--------------------

A pair of silver eyes stared confidently at the brick building before them. To the owner of those eyes, tonight would be a night of triumph, development, and camaraderie. The same could not be said of her three compatriots.

"Ruby, I know you mean well," said Blake, genuine concern on her face ",but don't you think this is... I don't know..." The blush that crept its way onto her face said what she couldn't.

"I have to agree," said Weiss, continuing the train of thought ", while I do think this is a unique way to practice an invaluable skill, I can't say I'm entirely comfortable walking into a metaphorical shark tank."

Ruby turned to face her team. "Oh come on guys, this perfect! Those two have snuck up on us and basically smacked big 'property of the Twins' stickers on us!" Her team flushed at the memories conjured by their leader's words. "Not only will we be having fun at a real nightclub," Ruby continued, woefully unaware ", we'll be practicing our awesome huntress skills, and getting those monkeys off our backs!"

"While I do enjoy nightclubs," Yang piped up, still wearing a blush that first appeared when her sister announced her plan ", I feel like those monkeys won't be getting off our backs so much as getting... on... elsewhere." The implication caused the group's blushing to intensify.

"Only if we let them!" Ruby countered, her enthusiasm refusing to be contained. "We know their game, so if we stay on our toes, I'm sure we can walk out of there without so much as a smudge of lipstick on us!"

"Actually," Yang interjected ",this is a pretty busy time of year for the club, so they might not even have time for their usual antics."

"I feel like they'd notice if their 'favorite playmate' walked in," Blake responded with a playful smirk aimed Yang's way.

"Yang's right!" Ruby continued as her sister face lit up beet red. "This is one of the best chances we'll get to win back team RWBY's pride!"

"Oh for the..." Weiss sighed ",whatever, I'd rather go in there now than go all the way back to Beacon in this cold."

The team walked towards the entrance to the club, unaware of the hunters waiting for them within.

--------------------

A feeling of dread permeated through each of the four warriors as they entered. Immediately, they all noticed the alarming decorations hanging above most of the expansive room.

There, suspended from the rafters were dozens, if not hundreds of small bunches of mistletoe. The strings were so thin, one might assume the plants were suspended by an unseen magic.

Our heroes however, were less awed by the whimsical decoration and more anxious at the implied threat that awaited them on the club's main floor.

"W-Well," Ruby stammered, a blush beginning to appear on her cheeks ",we can still assume they won't be focused on us, right?"

Four scrolls buzzed, each alerting their owner to a message that read:

"Always nice to see such pretty faces~ Even better to kiss em 💋💋💋"

The team's faces lit up as they read the ominous message from their assailants.

"W-W-Well," Ruby said, failing to sound remotely confident ",let's do this, team!" She shook her head in an attempt to regain her composure "We'll show them they can't defeat us so easily!"

The four huntresses took cautious footsteps into the sea of revelers.

--------------------

That dolt! Weiss thought as she made her way towards the bar, keeping to the edges of the dance floor. Of all the holidays to drop us into this lions' den, why did it have to be one of the two where kissing was a popular tradition?!

Her eyes darted between countless club goers she passed, making sure each and every one was not one of the formidable twins.

Finally, blessedly, she arrived at the bar. She was no expert on this sort of establishment, but she felt confident enough that she would not be assailed in such an area. The heiress ordered a Cold in the Shadows. Safe though she felt, her color had yet to go down, a fact not helped by the fact get mind waa wandering back to the fateful day she was targeted by the Malachite Twins.

She had heard tales from the likes of Yang about the Twins' beauty and amorous brand of mischief, but she has assumed that it was something the fiery brawler brought upon herself. When the Twins actually made their way into the dorm room of team RWBY and gave her a demonstration of their antics, Weiss was well and truly enamored.

No. No no no.

She was not enamored by the inappropriate Twins and their inappropriate prank. She most certainly did not enjoy being assaulted in unwanted kisses that stained her skin from an unruly pair such as them. She laid on the floor, unable to speak because she was immobilized by anger, certainly not by any kind of uncouth emotions.

No. Most definitely not.

"Your drink, miss." Came the voice that shook her from her definitely-not-fond recollection.

"Thank y-" Weiss's blood froze in her veins when her eyes found the holder of her desired beverage.

"I suggest you come here and get it before the ice melts~" teased Melanie Malachite "or..."

A sudden flash of red darted up from beneath the bar and threw its arms around Weiss's neck. "We could bring you to us~"

Weiss could not respond before Miltiades's lips found hers and pulled her over and beneath the bar. A cacophony of kisses went unheard beneath the bar as Melanie knocked back Weiss's beverage with practiced speed before joining her sister in marking their first prize.

--------------------------

Yang layed on the bed in the private room of the club, face papered with lipstick and most of her clothes strewn on the floor.

"Damnit," she said to the ceiling.

Their second target was no challenge.

--------------------------

Blake sat alone in a booth away from the main dance floor. She counted herself lucky to find such a secluded spot in such a populated public place.

She was not entirely sure if she was lucky in this particular situation however. While she was isolated and had a wall at her back, she had spent the better part of the last half hour scanning the best routes of escape should the Twins find her. This would not end like last time if she had anything to say about it.

She'd been assailed by the Twins once before in her preferred bookstore. She was always glad to find peace in that particular shop; not too big, not too busy, and plenty quiet. They were quick in their work, painting Blake's face in kisses before leaving her to collect herself. However, she would lay there, lipstick-riddled face staring into the void until the shopkeep had to come rouse her to close the store.

She could not say she did not like kisses, but she would prefer to have them on her terms.

Blake was awoken from her trance by the most wonderful feeling behind her left faunus ear. She closed her eyes and leaned into the feeling, stopping only when her cheek met a pair of lips.

She jolted upright and saw Melanie, lips still puckered, sitting right next to her.

She made to scramble backward, but was stopped short by a scratching below her chin. She followed the culprit finger to its owner, Miltiades who was sitting on her right.

The red twin gently coaxed Blake to pull her face closer. Blake, putty in her hands, obliged and was rewarded with a peck on the lips.

To her horror, Blake could hear a purr emanating from within her. She flushed a deep red, eliciting a giggle from the Twins.

"Having fun there, kitty cat?" the Twins asked in unison. Before she could form a coherent response, Blake's chin was gently scratched back toward Melanie, who planted a soft kiss on her lips as well.

All of a sudden, there were no plans of escape. Just gentle scratches that Blake could not resist and kisses she couldn't not avoid.

Blake purred through it all. Their third prize had submitted herself to them.

------------------

Ruby stood ten paces from the bar. Seated there were the Twins who had harmed her team's pride. They were looking right at her, waiting. Not for the right moment to strike, but for the inevitable to occur. Ruby would sooner die than give them the satisfaction.

... Those cookies did look fresh though.

Their fourth and final target was a success of preparation.

------------------

The next day, all four members of team RWBY sat on their beds in their dorm. A look of sullen defeat painted their now lipstick-free faces as they gazed at their scrolls.

On the screens were dozens and dozens of photos their assailants had taken during their mischief making.

All four of them agreed they had a horrible time. All four of them fully intended to try again some day.

------------------

(I know this is silly and probably dumb, but I couldn't do anything else until I put this idea into words. Anybut, Happy Holidays everyone!

#rwby #Malachite Twins #team rwby #ruby rose #Weiss Schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #Christmas

6 notes · View notes

ionchef · 6 years ago

Text

King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 3

In which Celena curtsies and Allen drinks Martini.

It was quite rare that Fanelia's royals received visitors from the ruling family of other countries, what with the dragon infestation and all. It was also quite rare that the king was anything but thrilled about the attention public treatments of foreign relations would get in his precious free time. Except, maybe when the one visiting was a dear friend he'd known since childhood.

Only a few years his senior, princess Millerna Aston was the youngest of the ruling Asturian king's daughters. A tragic illness had taken the middle sister, Marlene, so the loss of a sibling was something which created an even stronger friendship between them.

Relations between Asturia and Fanelia were to be deepened a few years ago after Folken claimed the throne but then the whole fiasco with the rite of dragon slaying happened, so needless to say that whole plan went poof. It would have been easy enough. Millerna's older sister, Eries, was supposed to be wed to Folken. They would have made such a great pair and no wonder Eries was so completely down in the dumps about his death. Not only had they known each other since they were little, but they actually harbored real feelings for each other. A rare thing with such unions.

The strategy changed after that and Marlene's death. Eries was instead to take the Asturian throne since the laws were progressive enough to let a woman rule alone there, but she was too shook about Folken's death, even now still mourning after all these years. It was unlikely that Eries, although always appearing reserved and seemingly strong on the outside, would ever recover from her broken heart.

What a mood killer to think about it again right as the gates in the wall opened to admit the armored vehicle convoy. They were bringing in the visitors who had landed at the airstrip not far from the city perimeters. Luckily, no dragons had been sighted in the area around that time but just in case, a good number of the melef drones had been sent on patrol. The airstrip was really just a paved area in the woods with a few bunker-like hangars which housed equipment and the royal jet. Staff communicated with, and coordinated flights remotely.

Just like everything else, levi ships had also evolved over time to become aerodynamic, metal pieces of engineered ingenuity. They were still powered by levi stones at their core, but the energy was now being more thoroughly harnessed. Thanks to mechanical designers and progress in technology, they looked less like ships which sailed the oceans and were much, much faster.

If civilians wanted to travel to other countries, there were enough commercial services which overlayed in Fanelia for a short time but none had their home base here- no surprise there. On occasion, dragons could be spotted from high up in the air. Seeing one was kind of cool but only if one didn't consider the havoc they could wreak upon that small, pressurized, metal tube if given the chance.

When Van and Merle stood on the mosaic in the palace square, waiting to officially greet the royal envoy, the king couldn't help but grin a bit when noticing that Merle took special care to chew her gum as discreetly as possible to avoid it being taken from her. She was looking forward to seeing Millerna because they both were party girls at heart. He already dreaded this evening when they would drag him along to the Mystic Moon, Millerna's favorite place to visit when in Fanelia.

Van wasn't fond of the nightclub. Oodles of odd high-society folk liked to dance the night away there, usually several notches too imbibed. In the occasion that he did show his face there, women vied for his attention and men in positions of leadership or high office tried to pander to him without shame, hoping to reach new heights in their careers. As if a whiff of vodka from their mouths would sway Van in their favor.

More than once, he'd wished he could have just given them a firm nudge and watched them fall over to be collected by security but he couldn't be seen doing that. Even though, no doubt, many of them woke up crapulous the next day, memories slowly dawning on them about how they had embarrassed themselves in front of the king. Sadly though, he was the head of his country and required to treat people with respect. Even when they were drunk off their asses, especially if they were related to diplomatic offices from other countries.

But anyway, this was a problem for future Van. Present Van actually cracked a smile when he saw princess Millerna exit the elevators first and confidently make her way towards him as the forefront of the entourage. She hadn't changed much from the last time they'd seen her except that she probably was even more radiant. No wonder her father had her protected so well.

A whole group of guys in navy blue suits along with a younger woman in a white sundress tagged along not too far behind. The princess herself wore light pink, her favorite color, and the dress itself, although proper enough, still hugged her body snugly. With her long, wavy, blonde hair and periwinkle eyes, she was nothing short of stunning. Hey, nobody could blame a guy for noticing those things. She was standing right in front of them by now, after all.

As soon as elaborate greetings between the king, the princesses, and the officials concluded, some pictures were taken from the few press representatives who had been admitted. Then, the group was off towards the palace where everybody finally was able to relax again after the double doors shut tightly behind them. Millerna's high heels click-clacked even through the crimson carpet covering the marble floor before the three royals came to a stop.

Not able to contain her excitement anymore, Merle squealed and both women hugged tightly in a proper greeting which prompted another, rare smile from the usually reserved king. "I'm so excited you're here Millerna!" Merle exclaimed as the other princess hugged her back tightly.

"Me too!" Millerna replied and then held Merle at arm's length. "Wow, your hair is so different I barely recognized you at first glance. You look more mature."

"Oh but wait," Merle laughed and reached into the pockets of her blue etui dress, only to retrieve two rubber bands. While chewing on her gum more shamelessly, she made quick work of the pink tresses and in no time had them back up in a pair of trademark buns on top of her head. "Better?" She asked Millerna.

"Much better. Now you look more like the cute kitten I used to know," Millerna nodded, pearly whites showing through a satisfied smile.

Van snorted a bit with a slightly raised eyebrow at the comment. Sweet kitten? More like a sly fox at times. Oh well. Much love, though.

With so many unfamiliar faces behind Millerna, a few more introductions were in order. On cue, a guy with long, blonde hair and the only other woman in the group approached.

Millerna motioned for them to come closer. "Van, this is Allen. He is my new head of security."

The blonde guy bowed lightly at the waist. "King Van." He greeted politely. "Behind me are our pilot and my second, Gaddess, as well as Reeden, Kio, Ort, Pyle, Katz, and Teo," he introduced the rest of the crew who bowed in greeting.

"…and this lovely lady is his sister Celena," Millerna continued. "She may look innocent but don't let that fool you. She hopes to become a member of Asturian security too. Until then, she's permitted to trail along and shadow Allen and the rest of the guys."

Celena, the young woman in question, offered both Fanelian royals a perfect curtsy. "Your highnesses."

Merle immediately liked her, Van could tell. She nodded eagerly, sensing an ally and fellow party girl only waiting for a chance to show it. "You can call me Merle when we're alone. It's totally fine. I can already tell we're going to get along well. Just wait until tonight when you get your first taste of Fanelia out and about. We're all going to the Mystic Moon! It's the best nightclub in town!" Noticing Van's scowl, she elbowed him gently in the ribs. "It's going to be awesome. I'm there with my friends a lot but it's going to be even better with you all."

Van was fully aware of how well she was plowing through his lack of enthusiasm- with the unyielding strength of a pack mule. Really though, it was good to have Millerna and her together. One, because he was hoping that Merle would take on some of Millerna's more mature qualities and two, because having a friend like her around made the palace instantly feel warmer.

The Mystic Moon's location was easily visible from anywhere in the capital because of its sky beam. A solid, blue column of light shone straight up into the inky night sky like a guiding beacon and young Fanelians flocked to it on weekend evenings like moths to a lamp. Likewise, Hitomi, Yukari, and Amano were on the way there.

Being that it was a Saturday night, the streets were livelier still than during the week. Some restaurants had extended seating outside in the pedestrian zone and on sidewalks. Groups of people enjoyed a late dinner and friends sat together for a glass of wine and to talk story. Hitomi would have much preferred to do so too, but Yukari was too excited to see the club for the first time and Hitomi didn't want to be a downer. Even though the prospect of mingling with a crowd of strangers didn't appeal to Hitomi, she at least owed her best friend an attempt at fun.

So there they were, ready to party. While Amano was dressed not much different than usual, in a pair of slacks and polo shirt, the girls had taken the opportunity to wear things bought on a whim during shopping sprees which likely would never fit another occasion. Yukari sported a purple, strapless dress and was proud to have matched it with her favorite heels to ensure maximum dance capability.

Hitomi had, after some persuasion from Yukari, finally given in and cut the tag off a pair of hunter green shorts made from some velvet-like fabric she'd had in the back of her closet for longer than she could remember. They were tighter than she would have liked but now, with the tag off, she'd sort of committed to at least wearing them once. A pair of strappy, black heels in addition had even made her bestie whistle at the sight of her legs. Too bad her usual sneakers really weren't an option. Thankfully, combined with a long-sleeved, ivory, high-collar blouse, the outfit looked more classy than trashy.

The Mystic Moon was located in one of the old, historic mansions in old-town, not far from where they lived. It had been renovated on the inside and some on the outside, thereby keeping the original structure and charm of the building intact.

The line to get in already wrapped around the corner and by the looks of some of those in that line, they'd been waiting for a good while. Some left eventually when it wasn't moving for a long time or were turned away by the hostess for random reasons after finally making it to the front. Few attempted to hide the looks of disappointment as they walked off, apparently too casually dressed or not important-looking enough to be admitted.

All this waiting in line to be let into a club they were barely good enough for. This was starting pretty great already, Hitomi thought while wondering what the night was to bring. There was a separate line for those who were on the guest list. It made Hitomi feel weird to bypass all the other people but Yukari marched up to the hostess with such confidence she had to admire her.

The woman eyed them suspiciously when Yukari announced that they were on the guest list. She scanned their attire, taking her sweet time, then finally clicked her tongue. They probably reeked like peasant but Yukari was calmly smiling at her, imperturbable as always. When the hostess scanned the guest list, her red lips curled in a somewhat dissatisfied manner because she couldn't turn them away.

"Go on," was all she said and motioned for the giant mountain of a bouncer behind her to let them pass. He grunted in acknowledgment and used one of his meaty arms to pull open the nearest one of the brushed steel double doors next to him.

Yukari beamed at him in passing and Hitomi wasn't far behind, followed by Amano. Sound waves of a pumping bass hit them before their eyes adjusted to the visual overload that was the inside of the club.

In front of them, a buzzing mass of people was dancing and drinking, moving through a kaleidoscope of colors. Although the club was mostly dark, light emitted from the inside of glass tables, the structure of the bar areas in different locations throughout the club, and pillars that went all the way up to the tall ceiling made for an otherworldly kind of mood. It looked as if the place had been built with cosmic mortar and pestle. A big disco ball was mounted right in the center of the tall, vaulted ceiling and reflected the colorful lights around the club, casting stars across any surface it could reach.

"Wow," Hitomi allowed herself to say.

Yukari elbowed her, giggling. "This is awesome!"

Hitomi laughed. "Okay, this is pretty cool."

Amano couldn't help but admire the ambient too. While there were small tables to sit or stand by around the sides, the middle was reserved mainly for dancing and busy waitresses dressed in black expertly weaved through the crowd to deliver drinks to thirsty guests.

"Come on! Let's find Allen!" Yukari yelled in Hitomi and Amano's direction while taking her boyfriend's hand and already dragging him along. Hitomi followed them as they made their way around the side of the dancing crowd, dodging a few people who were so immersed in their moves they had strayed from the rest.

Allen had sent a message a few days ago, letting them know that they were on the guest list for this evening and that he'd be near the VIP area, mainly off duty with his second, Gaddess, in charge but still close to the princess just in case. Fanelia was known as extremely safe due to good diplomatic relations but being overly cautious never hurt.

"I see him," Amano announced, pointing to a set of three, wide steps straight towards the back. A long, red carpet was spread across the floor there and leading up the stairs with another hostess desk occupied by a duo much like that at the front door.

Not far behind the thick, velvet rope which separated the VIP area from that of the common people, a man in a dark blue suit with a martini glass stood half facing the crowd back there and half lazily scanning the area down where the three friends were. Although Hitomi knew that Amano and Allen were twins, seeing a nearly identical copy of Amano smile warmly at them was strange. His features were so strikingly similar.

The only difference was the hair. While Amano's was chestnut brown, Allen's was platinum blonde. It was the wildest thing. Hitomi tried to remember if the few times she'd seen Allen in younger years, his hair had already been this shade or if, perhaps, some hydrogen peroxide had been used to help with that.

As they neared the stairs, Allen lifted a hand in greeting. He moved to meet them halfway after the hostess stepped over to unhook the rope for him so he could exit the VIP area. His long hair trailed behind him when descending the stairs; and not without an obvious look of admiration from the hostess, Hitomi noticed. No wonder, Allen was quite the looker in many regards, tall and handsome like his brother but with a different style.

Allen deposited his Martini glass on a tall side table in passing, this one illuminated pink from the inside. The guys wasted no time in greeting each other with a manly hug and slapped each other on the back.

"Hey little brother," Allen greeted Amano.

Amano rolled his eyes. "Don't start that again. By two minutes…," he trailed off, shaking his head lightly, knowing that their never-ending argument already had a longer beard than Emperor Dornkirk of Zaibach.

Yukari looked back and forth between them, obviously a bit overwhelmed by seeing the two next to each other after four years. She snapped out of it when Amano placed his arm around her shoulders, thereby popping any developing phantasy bubbles involving the handsome duo and herself.

Allen took Yukari's hand, bowing over it in a formal gesture that was probably making her blush a bit, but who could be sure in that lighting. "It's been a while, Yukari. I see Amano finally had the guts to follow his heart."

That made Amano pull Yukari a bit closer against himself. "Better late than never."

The three laughed and by now Hitomi felt fairly awkward off on the side, pretending to be busy scanning the crowd during the reunion. She glanced towards the VIP area where Allen had just come from. There was a small but packed dancefloor with a bar on the right but on the left, even further back, bead curtains hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor. They looked like somebody had strung up diamonds but they certainly weren't real, or were they? Hitomi wondered what could be behind them. Probably a seating area to give the high society some privacy when chatting with each other or otherwise…occupied.

Yukari's voice reached Hitomi from the side. "Allen, do you remember…"

"Hitomi," Allen's voice rang clearly over the sound of the music.

She turned her head around and up to lock her eyes with Allen's. They were ocean blue and regarded her with curiosity. Just like with Yukari, he took one of Hitomi's hands but instead of just bowing, he kissed the back of it like he would no doubt for some highborn lady. Despite the absurdity, Hitomi couldn't deny herself some enjoyment out of the formality.

"How could I forget Hitomi. You were one of Amano's best friends, after all. It was my bad for not making enough time to hang out with all of you back when we were younger." Allen held on to Hitomi's hand for just a bit longer than necessary. "I'll be sure to make up for some of that tonight," he finished with a slight wink to emphasize his promise.

"It's good to see you again, Allen," Hitomi responded. It really was, although the sudden interest from his side was unexpected.

More conversation ensued after the four of them ordered drinks at the nearest bar. Yukari immediately wanted to know more about princess Millerna's schedule in Fanelia, of course, to which Allen simply smiled knowingly.

"Well, actually she is here tonight although you can't see her because she's somewhere in the crowd on the dancefloor up there. My crew is strategically placed around the area to ensure her safety. He said all this with aplomb, thereby earning him looks of awe from the girls and a proud nod from his brother.

"Didn't think she'd be here! I thought this was something like your night off," Amano said.

"A bodyguard is never really off duty, but she's cool with it. Underneath it all, she's really just a person like you and I and she has siblings too don't forget that. She insisted that I take the time to see you after I mentioned that my little brother lives in Fanelia." Allen twirled the stem of a new Martini glass between his fingers as he talked.

Amano combed several fingers through his hair. "Here we go again."

Yukari gripped his upper arm in a gesture that left no room for arguments. "You know what? It's way to amazing here to stand around and talk. Plus, I love this song so why don't we give that dancefloor a try?" She didn't wait for an answer and instead pulled Hitomi in front of herself, then pushed her towards Allen. "We even got the right amount of dance partners." Winking, she already had Amano's hand in hers and was on the way to join the crowd.

Hitomi smiled a bit nervously while smoothing her short hair behind her ears. She did like to dance but that was normally done at low-key parties with Yukari and not with a guy like Allen at the hippest nightclub in town.

"Shall we?" Allen asked her, extending his hand expectantly.

Well, she couldn't think of a tangible reason to say no. Not that she wanted to think of one.

While Merle, Millerna, and Celena danced their collective hearts out, Van was content to sulk moodily in their reserved seating area, nursing a glass of neat whiskey. The bass was pumping in his ears and even made the silly bead curtain separating their table and couches from the dancefloor and bar shake. At least he'd be left in peace here unless somebody choose to come looking, of course.

He ran a hand through his hair which was neatly combed and briefly wondered what it'd be like to come here incognito. Would he enjoy it more if nobody knew who he was? If he were to be able to hang out with a group of normal people? Like his…ahem…acquaintance from the coffee shop?

Damn.

He'd done such a good job up to this point to not think about her again. However, the tricky part when trying to not think about something was that he had to think about it to remind himself what not to think about. Considering that, he'd actually done a lousy job because it required him to think about her at least once a day.

Ha. Once a day? If only…

It also didn't help that just at that moment, he spotted a way too familiar face near the bottom of the steps. He could see her between the cracks in the curtain.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

If he hadn't been sure before, he definitely was now because she was staring right at where he was sitting, just she obviously couldn't see him behind the sparkly diamond fringe. Seeing her here was like spotting an island in a vast, wild ocean. She seemed a bit out of place but it wasn't due to her looks because she was by far more tastefully dressed than most of the women he'd fended off earlier this evening. She seemed out of place because this obviously wasn't her natural environment.

He saw Allen greet a guy who looked a whole lot like him, no doubt the brother Millerna had mentioned he was going to meet. And there was the other woman from the coffee shop. The one who'd been in line in front of him the other day, so excited about the upcoming visit to the Mystic Moon.

After some elaborate show of courtesies from Allen's side, the four went further away so Van couldn't see them anymore but now he certainly couldn't stop his thoughts from spinning. And spinning they were, around the image of a certain short-haired, green-eyed woman. Why couldn't he just stop thinking about her? Pondering this for a while, he then waved over a waitress who was only too eager to assist her king.

They were all out of breath when they ordered a new round of drinks at the bar. Despite everything, Hitomi had to admit that she was having a great time. Allen was a good enough dancer to make up for her level of ineptitude with his confident moves. A few gulps of water and more potent drinks later they were nothing short of stunned when the VIP hostess appeared beside them and told them that they had been invited to enter that area.

"Wait but who…," Yukari began to ask but the hostess interrupted her.

"Look, do you want to come back there or not? I don't have time for this," the woman said over her shoulder while already on the way back to her post.

Amano chuckled, "now that's a pure-bred Rottweiler. She hardly even needs the bouncer's help."

Shrugging, the quartet made their way towards the VIP area, albeit a bit weary still. The hostess stood and looked them up and down, much like her colleague outside while unhooking the thick, red piece of rope to allow them passage. She was clearly not in favor of having any of them except Allen in this area but couldn't do anything about it despite her position as a gatekeeper. Some higher power had overwritten her authority.

To Hitomi, the grass wasn't much greener on the other side. Except that people here were perhaps dressed even fancier, looked more self-important, and the drinks they held looked more expensive too. Half-full bottles of Champaign and liquor had been carelessly left on tables littered with overturned glasses and crumpled bills, including traces of white powder which looked a lot like cocaine. It instantly gave the term high-society a whole new meaning.

They stood there for a few minutes, looking around to take it all in again, minus Allen who was already used to it. Nobody paid attention to them and even Yukari was still a bit taken aback. She probably couldn't believe her luck about having the chance to come all the way to the heart of the club on her first visit.

They were still standing at the edge of the dancefloor when Hitomi looked behind herself and saw somebody she didn't expect to see again in real life. All the tumult receded and everything around her grew hazy like standing in a dark tunnel with him at the end. Aw crap.

Dressed in a black suit with the royal crest embroidered on the breast pocket, sans sunglasses and with his hair combed back, the king of Fanelia could hardly be mistaken for anybody else. A few people who'd been busy dancing in that area took a moment to stare and exchange some hushed words which were easily lost in the sound around them. Yukari, Amano, and Allen were still looking the other way, pointing at the bar, when he came to a stop in front of Hitomi.

Neither of them said anything until Van offered a "hello."

"Hi…," Hitomi answered in an equally awkward way.

Cue for the others to finally notice the person who'd joined them. That seeing the king of this very country suddenly stand a mere few feet away shocked them would have been an understatement. Well, everyone except Allen again, of course, who was merely surprised to see Van approach them.

"King Van," Allen acknowledged him. "Was there anything you needed from me?"

Van looked at Hitomi for another moment before shaking his head. "No." He then proceeded to kick himself mentally. He'd thought about what exactly to say but now it was all gone. Smooth. Real smooth. Distraction! Now! "Is this your brother?" He asked although it was quite obvious that the guy next to Allen couldn't be anybody but an identical twin.

Allen was taken aback that the king had decided to not only venture out into the open but now also showed interest in his family life. "Indeed, your majesty. This is Amano, his girlfriend Yukari, and their friend Hitomi." Allen introduced them all. "We all grew up together in Asturia."

Van didn't crack so much as smile, one hand clutching his glass of whiskey like a lifeline. Meanwhile, Yukari's eyes were still as big as saucers, words having failed her. Was this a dream? The awkwardness of the situation was completely lost on her. Hitomi, on the other hand, was close to bursting out in hysterical laughter. How was it that she kept stumbling into him?

Van nodded at the group as a collective greeting. "I saw you with them and thought it would be better to keep everybody together."

Amano was the first of the others to say something, shaking his girlfriend out of her stupor. "Thank you for the invitation, your majesty. Would you excuse us for a moment though? I think my girlfriend is thirsty." That said, he took her hand and coaxed her out of the semi-circle.

Hitomi could hear her protest a bit.

"Amano, why are you pulling me away? It's the king for Pete's sake…," Yukari huffed when they were out of earshot.

"Because you've been staring at him since the very first second," Amano laughed. "Calm down and we'll go back over there eventually, okay?" A mere warm, loving gaze from him usually did wonders in cooling her down.

Yukari rolled her eyes and nodded. "Fine. You're right. Thanks for making sure I don't say anything weird."

"Not a bad idea that with the drink," Allen said. "Hitomi, can I get you anything too?"

"Uh…sure," she answered.

"Your majesty? Anything?" Allen asked Van too.

"No. I'm alright," he answered and lifted his whiskey glass.

After Allen made his way towards the bar, it was just Van and Hitomi continuing their stare-off.

Hitomi finally laughed, but it was more because she was at a loss for what to say and do than actual amusement. It wasn't like this could get any more awkward. Enough shilly shallies.

The few drinks she'd had and the extravagant, overpowering atmosphere made her bold. "What now? Are we going to pass the time dancing? We know each other well enough after all." The absurdity of it all.

"No…I hadn't planned on it," he responded ruefully while taking in the sight of her in the party outfit. Although she looked glammy with the velvet shorts and high heels, the blouse gave her an aristocratic look and only underlined her natural beauty.

Even if he wanted to dance with her in a place like this, he couldn't. Not in a club where more than half the people were drunk, on drugs, or both. The possibility of somebody snapping a picture of him doing anything that would shame the royal house was too big. If was different when his little sister was spotted on the dancefloor. She was known as a party girl, a bit younger, and the darling of the media but he needed to be taken seriously at all times.

"Then…what am I supposed to be doing while we wait? Pretend to converse with you?" Hitomi asked him. "Like we just met for the first time?"

She was becoming impatient. Not many people would usually get away with talking to Van in such a way- it was quite sobering.

This was going absolutely not excellent. If only he could remember what he'd planned on saying earlier to smooth out the wrinkles.

Van scowled at her. She was testier than he remembered and his cheek tingled in remembrance.

Finally, another person saved them from their own stubbornness.

"Van! Look at you coming out of your hiding place!" A melodic voice proclaimed from the side.

"Millerna," Van said a bit gratefully.

"Who is this? Hi, I'm Millerna," she introduced herself, not even waiting for Van to do it.

The blonde was almost as tall as Van in her heels and shook Hitomi's hand eagerly. "Are you a friend of Allen's? I saw him here just a moment ago."

Allen was still not back and a quick look around confirmed what he had told them earlier. That Millerna's security detail was positioned at various places in the club. A guy in a navy blue suit was close by but still far enough away to give them privacy.

"Y-yes, your majesty," Hitomi said, the title feeling strange in her mouth.

"You don't have to call me that. At least not when it's just us. Call me Millerna," she offered.

"Uhm…alright…Millerna," Hitomi said.

By the gods. She was standing in the middle of the Mystic Moon's VIP area, talking to not just one but two royals, which doubled the number of royals she had ever talked to in her life.

"How do you know Allen? We haven't been to Fanelia in years, and even then it was before he became head of my security detail." Millerna asked curiously.

Hitomi felt a bit more at ease. The princess was clearly more laid back than she would have expected. "I'm actually from Asturia too. So is my friend Yukari. She is Amano's girlfriend. The three of us share an apartment here in town."

"What a crazy coincidence!" Millerna exclaimed. "Why'd you leave Asturia? Too boring because no dragons?" She joked.

Van stood next to them as the two women fell into an easy conversation. He was really quite relieved that Millerna had shown up. It gave him an excuse to look at Hitomi without the need to say anything at all. So far, he had only gotten himself in trouble or been a nuisance when alone with her. Not a great track record. Maybe it was better if there were other people and no disguises.

When Hitomi and Millerna arrived at another topic which they could bond over, both their eyes lit up. While Hitomi was nearing the end of her nursing education, Millerna was on her way to become a physician. She'd taken up medical studies despite her father's vehement protests and continued them even after Eries had threatened to abdicate after Folken's death, thereby making Millerna the only eligible heir in the event that she'd make her threat a reality.

Allen eventually came and delivered a drink to Hitomi but Millerna insisted that he re-join his brother and Yukari at the bar, which he did, albeit reluctantly. Hitomi had a feeling that Amano was keeping Yukari away on purpose still, to make sure the alcohol wouldn't prompt her to say things in front of the king and princess she'd later on regret. Millerna assured Allen that Hitomi and she were now best friends and that they had important things to talk about. The only reason Van was allowed to stick around was, well, who would tell a king to butt off? It of course also helped that he didn't say a word while the women were talking.

On the other end of the long bar, a guy with silver hair was playing absentmindedly with the ice in his empty glass. His eyes scanned the crowd without aim, watching people dance, laugh, and yell at each other over the loud music. Those fools.

Dilandau Albatou came solely for the people-watching and drink. Definitely not for the dancing and horrible music. Clad in a merlot shirt and black jeans, he was one of the more casually dressed people here. However, as a member of the Zaibach attaché corps, he never had trouble getting into the Mystic Moon no matter how he was dressed.

Reaching into a pocket, he retrieved a small plastic bag containing a single, white pill. Drugs weren't anything too uncommon here and the effects some of the stuff had on others was too entertaining to not sit back and watch. Sometimes, people did downright cringe-worthy stuff when high.

After ordering another round, he slipped the pill into one of two drinks in front of him before taking a sip from his own gin and tonic. He waited until one of the waitresses he knew well came by to load her tray with new orders.

Dilandau stopped the woman with the wavy, teal hair as she picked up drinks from the bartender. "Sylphy. I'm feeling generous tonight. Would you bring this to someone for me?"

"Sure. Who do you want me to bring it to?" Sylphy asked with a facial expression that suggested mild indifference.

Dilandau was regarded as a weirdo in certain circles. As an albino, his outward appearance was unusual. Pale skin, eyes the color of rosé, and nearly white hair weren't exactly what women would list as top desirable features. Although money had, more often than not, helped make them forget about that. It wasn't like he ever felt like wasting time with pleasantries in a woman's company anyway.

In his position, he enjoyed all the honors of a noble but was content to remain mostly antisocial. When he came to the Mystic Moon, he rarely left his favorite seat at the bar. The reason he was still a favorite among the staff was that at least he tipped well.

"Dealer's choice," Dilandau answered with a lazy grin. "Bring it to whoever looks like they could use it."

Shrugging, the waitress tossed her long hair over one shoulder before placing the glass on the tray, grabbing it and walking off into the crowd, weaving through it carefully.

Taking a big swig of his drink, he nearly choked on it when, very unexpectedly, a single finger poked his shoulder. Who the hell was dumb enough to approach him?

"Hey," a female voice demanded his attention.

"What?" Dilandau asked, obviously annoyed and not even turning around because he was trying to not lose track of Sylphy in the crowd. She was moving fast, doing her job well so he didn't want to miss who she'd deliver the drink to. Then, when he saw her finally zoom in on someone and hand the glass over, he was finally ready to deal with whoever had intruded his personal space.

"Did you just spike someone's drink?" The female voice prodded.

Even though many people in the crowd were on some sort of drug, they took them with intent. Dilandau whirled around and immediately backed away a bit because the young woman's face was closer to his than expected. Two pale blue orbs stared at him so accusingly that it made him feel naked on the spot. It was as if she was trying to read his thoughts.

When focusing on her more closely, he realized that she was around his age. He should be able to deal with that easily, or not? "No," he still answered calmly. "I spiked a drink. Not someone's. There's a difference." Dilandau regarded the young woman lazily, challenging her.

Her hair was cut the same way as his, although with natural waves. She wore a pair of thin, black palazzo pants and a lavender, silk, crop top. Where a lot of women liked to take the opportunity here to dress up to the nines, she looked like she was on her way to Sunday brunch. It gave her an air of sophistication and that made him a little curious.

Contrastingly, the girl was holding a fresh bottle of beer by the neck, apparently having stood not far away to order a fresh round for herself. Beer wasn't really the choice beverage of high-society girls. She was pretty and interesting so far, he had to give her that.

What he said made her frown. "Well," she said innocently. " Why would you spike a random drink?"

Dilandau chuckled. "Just sharing some Intensified Luck in hopes it will make someone's evening."

Brow slightly furrowed, the girl slowly said, "right. Because let me guess, you're a generous guy?"

Celena looked at him with an expression that was completely unfamiliar to him. Not outright disapproval about doing something fucked up like drugging a random person but instead bypassing the outrage and going straight about finding his motivation for it. That, in combination with her confidence about approaching a guy who was a stranger to her in a bar, made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Shit. You won't believe how many snappy one-liners I just forgot and because of that, I need to go." Dilandau said while getting to his feet and downing his drink in one large gulp while simultaneously grabbing a black sports coat from the back of his barstool.

In any other situation, he'd never be the one to back down. Who was he, to be scared of some naïve girl getting under his skin by merely looking at him? Even as he pushed past her, moving her out of the way with his elbow carefully but deliberately, she didn't make any attempts to follow him. At least, she knew what was good for her. The dancing crowd swallowed him in the blink of an eye.

Fuming, Dilandau ducked into the men's room. His evening entertainment was ruined for the time being. The audacity of this blonde bitch. He was so mad he kicked the silver trashcan sitting in the corner which earned him an annoyed glance from the guy at the urinal.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Dilandau challenged him.

The guy shook his head, finished his business, and left the bathroom without washing his hands. Pig.

Dilandau walked up to the sink and braced his hands onto the marble washbasin. His own reflection stared back at him. Of course, he'd taken some of the Intensified Luck himself too but he already knew what it'd make him feel like. Like he was actually in control for once. Weird, because normally people took drugs for the exact opposite reason, to be able to let go.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the marble surface harder and focused on his mirror image. The more he looked at himself, the more the resurfacing images of his surreal nightmares threatened to swallow him again. Hissing at his own image, he tore himself away and strode into the far-off stall, banging the door closed before locking it.

The smoke detector in the closed-off room was still damaged from the last time he'd broken it. He leaned his back against the side wall and reached for the pack of cigarettes in one of his pockets. After lighting one up, he inhaled greedily and then rolled up the sleeves of his jacket to be more comfortable. At least here he'd be safe from the curious, little inquisitor for a while.

Hitomi had lost track of time. At some point, a waitress stopped by and handed her a drink.

"But I didn't order anything," Hitomi protested while the waitress thrust the gin and tonic into her hand.

"It's from this guy at the bar," she explained and gesticulated vaguely towards it.

Over the woman's shoulder, Hitomi could make out Allen, Yukari, and Amano. Allen smiled at her from across the distance and she raised the glass in a toast before tasting it. It had obviously been sent by him- how nice. She was actually having a good time now even though the dark king was still next to Millerna and her, hanging out there like a soggy raincloud. After two more sips, she was glad about the refreshment even though she'd already had a few drinks up to this point.

Van was pretending to look as much interested as a guy could reasonably be expected to be when two women were conversing animatedly, not including him. But that was just fine with him. It gave him all the time in the world to glance at Hitomi whenever appropriate, drinking in the sight of her cheerful face more eagerly than the whiskey. Her genuine nature made him feel more at ease in the usually dreaded environment.

More time passed as the women talked about similar classes they'd had and shared stories of training rotations with obnoxious patients and shocking diagnoses. It was Millerna's turn to tell a story about a guy she'd treated in the ER who had thought it a splendid idea to mend a wound on his leg with superglue, which then necessitated them to soak the affected area in acetone.

Hitomi wobbled a bit and smothered a laugh with her free hand when Millerna talked. It wasn't actually that funny but an unfamiliar feeling in her head stole away her ability to keep it together. "'Scuse me for a moment please," Hitomi said and stepped away as gracefully as possible. What in the hell was wrong with her. She hadn't had that much to drink, or did she?

She stumbled into the VIP restroom where the sound of music was more muffled and the light was brighter, aiming for the sinks. Two other women were in there, fixing their flawless warpaint and giggling amongst themselves. "…sooo hot in that black suit and I can't believe he's here tonight."

Hitomi stifled a groan as she put down her drink and turned on the faucet to splash cold water onto her face, not caring if it would smudge her own, much less elaborate makeup. The cool water helped her focus again better. As far as she could tell from her reflection staring back at her, she looked fairly normal. Phew. At least she wouldn't embarrass herself completely if she went back out there to let her friends know that she would be leaving.

The two high-society girls brushed past her with envious looks on their faces, one whispering something into the other's ear without Hitomi even taking note. Right. Good. So that was the way out. Kind of hard to tell with all the light and glitz in there. All she had to do was follow them. Back out into the cosmic darkness of the Mystic Moon. The difference in lighting and intensity in sound after the brief stop in the restroom hit her like a brick wall against the head. She was feeling worse and worse by the minute and the refreshing effect of the cold water had worn off fast.

She wobbled again, looking around but everything appeared strange. It was as if she had fallen through a rabbit hole and been spit out in another dimension. Faces were blurry and bodies moved too fast for her to follow. Walking felt like having to wade through molasses. She stumbled to the other side and reached the area across from the bathroom doors where a polished shelf along the whole length of the wall was meant to hold drinks for those whose hands were otherwise occupied. Only a few steps away, a couple made use of just that and had abandoned their champagne glasses while thoroughly exploring each other with hands and mouths.

Hitomi reached out to place her half-empty glass onto the shelf but, in her delirium, misjudged the distance. Only halfway on the secure surface before she let go, the glass fell and shattered, sending shards of expensive crystal, ice, and booze flying. Some splashed on her toes, some on the couple's legs and ice went sliding across the floor. They only spared a moment to shoot her an annoyed glance before stepping away further and resuming their previous activities.

In the meantime, Hitomi could do nothing but stare at the floor, dumbfounded and utterly at a loss for what had just happened. As if hypnotized, she stood in the same spot for what felt like an eternity before she, even despite the blaring music, heard glass crunch under the soles of, no doubt, expensive shoes and felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

Tbc...soonish.

A/N: Really, I had nearly 19 pages written already but decided to cut it off sooner for my own sanity. That said, ch 4 (or rather chapter 3, part 2) shouldn't be as long as this update. Alas, real life often gets in the way.

Thank you to everybody who's taken the time to review. It's motivating, as you can imagine. Keep it up!

Until next time!

#KOAescaFF #escaflownefanfic #the vision of escaflowne #escaflowne

7 notes · View notes

noenvyy · 2 years ago

Text

@tirpse @vegastheerapanyakul I got you! Here is one I wrote up based on your prompts. It’s....not very good! But it’s something!

The beginning of it is below but you can find the full thing on my A03 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40387650

Hope you enjoy it even if its just a bit <3

Chapter One: The Monster Upon Waking

Vegas pulled Pete’s blue and white speckled mug, the one with the stylized painting of the little elephant on it, from their cabinet and turned once more towards their now beeping coffee maker. He had purchased the cup on a whim after finding out Pete’d had a fondness for elephants as a kid.

He considered the gesture itself lazy as far as it came to romantic declarations. It was, after all, nothing but a cheap cup he’d happened to see at the stall in the market, the kind of almost tacky gift a tourist would buy.

Still, something about the color and the posture of the elephant with all its little painted details had made Vegas think of Pete upon seeing it and though he had passed the trinket with barely a thought on his way into the market, he’d made it a point to stop and purchase the cup on his way out.

The way Pete seemed to love the small thing, always insisting on using it in the mornings and taking special care to hand wash and dry it never failed to make Vegas suck at his teeth with chagrin. The gestures on Pete’s part distressed him because really the mug was nothing special—-what kind of boyfriend was he anyway buying something so cheap and easy to come by when he had the means to do more?-----and they embarrassed him because, well…he was secretly very pleased with how much Pete adored it.

Even now he smiled to himself as he held the cup in front of him, being careful to fill it to the brim with dark coffee and a dollop of milk before setting it down and sliding it across the counter to a groggy and half asleep Pete, head face down and cradled in his arms.

“There now,” Vegas insisted, tapping him on the bicep, “This’ll perk you right up. I made it strong. Drink it while I make breakfast.”

Pete groaned before rolling his head to the side, peeking out from under his arms, the creases from his shirt sleeves printed clearly across his face. Lifting his head from the table with what seemed a near Herculean effort he pulled the cup toward him before taking a tentative sip, “Thanks Vegas,” he mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness.

Watching him, Vegas shook his head in disapproval, “See this is what happens when you stay up late for me. I’ve told you it’s not necessary,” he reprimanded turning to fill a pan with oil and then reaching into the fridge for a pair of eggs.

Vegas had been arriving home far past midnight for the past week now. He’d had to, given the most recent missions Porsche had set him on. Night after night he drove around the city and sometimes as far as the next, making the rounds of some of the minor family’s strongholds: bars--- both seedy and elegant, high rolling casinos, jostling nightclubs.

The attempted coup a few months back had proved devastating in the end for both the main and minor families. Such a grand gesture of infighting, especially among two major powers, could never be ignored in the underground world of the mafia. And despite the new united front of both families’ leaders, Kinn and Porsche still found themselves in over their heads, struggling like divers fending off sharks scenting blood to keep rival families from pushing boundaries and making grabs for territories they perceived as easy steals in a time of weakness.

It course didn’t help that the coup itself had caused drastic losses across the board. The gunfight at the main family’s stronghold had seen the deaths of some members who’d pledged loyalty and service to the family for generations. Everyone was suffering the resulting effects of the carnage: understaffing, lower morale, everyone being stretched thin. Both Vegas and Pete along with the others suffered longer working hours than usual, but when it came to the shifts that took almost half the night, Porsche always sent Pete home and gave the assignments to Vegas.

It was drudge work and it was exhausting, but it was also part of his punishment.

After heading the coup with his father, Vegas understood that either Porsche or Kinn would have been well within their rights to exile him from the protection of the family and, if Kinn had gotten his way, Vegas was sure he would have been dealt much worse. Perhaps due to his long-standing friendship with Pete, or perhaps out of some misplaced sympathy over his father’s death, Vegas knew, in the end, that Porsche was going easy on him. It was something that he might have resented deeply before---Vegas didn’t do well with feeling in debt to anyone, but for now, thinking of Pete as he did so, he was content to merely grin and bear it.

Or he would have, had it not been for what the result of his overtime was doing to Pete.

The new minor family's bodyguard had stubbornly stayed up every single night Vegas was on duty. Vegas would drive home through the murky, abandoned streets only to park within sight of their still illuminated apartment, their living room window the only rectangle of yellow in a grid of reflected black. He’d climb the stairs, watch on his wrist pointing to a time so late, some considered it early to find Pete holding a vigil of one for his return, glassy-eyed, and lilting in the light of their living room lamp with a book on his lap.

As sweet as Vegas had found the gesture at first, now, he thought, watching Pete half nodding into his coffee, the tips of his hair dipping into the surface of the dark liquid, it was beginning to be a problem.

It wasn’t, after all, like they had a job where they could afford to be unalert while on duty.

Clucking his tongue as he slid eggs from pan to plate, he set the dish and a fork in front of Pete and firmly stated, “You are not staying up tonight.”

“Ah, Vegas,” protested Pete, the 'ah' half turning into a yawn as he uttered it, “I’m fine. Mr. Tankhun used to make me stay up all night watching series with him, I’m used to it.” he insisted, picking up the fork and trying with half-closed eyes to unsuccessfully spear a bit of egg, “Besides I told you I’ve tried. I can’t properly sleep if you’re not at home.”

Vegas watched Pete’s pathetic attempt at feeding himself for a few seconds more before sighing. He walked around the counter pausing only to grab a paper bag from the nearby table he’d purchased the night before. He hopped onto the seat next to Pete and set the bag on the counter pushing it slightly towards him before firmly plucking the fork from his hand.

“Come here,” he instructed.

Picking up a bit of egg on the end of the utensil and cupping one hand under it to keep the bits from falling to the floor he encouraged Pete to, “open up,” before spooning the bite of breakfast into his mouth. Pete chewed contentedly and Vegas tried to hide a smile, before spearing a bit more egg and repeating the process.

“You’re incorrigible,” He scolded, pausing to take one then two bites off of Pete’s plate for himself and then scooping more for him, “Stubborn like a freaking ox. Come on, say ‘ahh’”

Pete opened his mouth expectantly, looking for the world so much like a baby bird that Vegas felt his ears grow warm.

Some mobster. Vegas could practically see the mocking arc of his father’s eyebrow along with the voice in his head. People in his line of work weren’t supposed to feel this sort of way about this type of thing. He looked back at Pete and immediately made to push the thought away. Fuck his dead father.

“There, last one,” he spoke gruffly, setting the fork down and roughly pulling the top of Pete’s head towards him, “Be a good boy and finish the rest yourself,” he said, planting a swift peck at Pete’s hairline. “And if you can’t fall asleep tonight take what's in the bag. They’re sleeping drops I got from the pharmacy. They should help.”

“Aww Vegas—-” Pete started, voice pitched at the beginning of a protest.

“Hey,” reminded Vegas, reaching forward and tightly gripping the tip of Pete’s chin with one hand, “What’d I say? Are you really going to fight me on this one?” He tilted Pete’s face towards him, the angle of it straightening Pete’s neck and without meaning to Vegas found himself noticing how light from the nearby window perfectly cast itself along its length, its luminance almost making the skin running from jaw to collarbone seem to glow.

Vegas stared for a moment, eyes snared and marvelled at how quickly little sights like this still managed to release a flood of heat in his lower midsection. It was moments like these, he thought to himself, even as he found his body shifting, leaning forward of its own accord, these moments are always the ones that seem to land you in trouble.

And oh, how he did in enjoy being in the thick of trouble.

He brushed the edges of his nose and lips along the bare side of Pete’s neck, allowing them to nestle in that subtle curve, that delicious warm spot where his chin met his ear. Vegas inhaled deeply drinking in the smell of Pete’s cologne, something mild and spiced that mixed with the body guard's own scent. He felt Pete shiver slightly under his hand and pulled back to find Pete’s eyes on him, flickering with the pulse of some inner fire, the pupils dark and expanding, irises somehow suddenly wide and shining and awake.

As before, when being fed, Pete allowed his lips to part, their centers wet with moisture. Vegas felt the corner of his mouth tug itself into a responding smirk.

“Behave now,” he cautioned, and for a moment he was unsure if he truly ment the words for Pete or himself, “You’re going to make us late.”

Pete’s eyes flickered once more, something sly and feral creeping into them.

Trouble—, was all Vegas had time to think as one of Pete’s hands, quick and sure from days of physical training with the main family shot forward before Vegas had a chance to guard himself. The hand gripped the stiff member already forming a distinct tent underneath Vegas’ clothing, for an instant almost to the point of discomfort.

Vegas jerked, hands immediately lifting and wrapping themselves around each of Pete’s wrists, tight and unyielding as manacles. He squeezed the wrists feeling the slide of the small bones underneath. Still, Pete didn’t let go, a grin, pointed and taunting already spelling a challenge on his mouth.

“Maybe you should be the one to behave,” he whispered, voice low and magnetic, “What’s the matter Vegas? Finding it hard to restrain yourself?”

Vegas kept himself from releasing a groan. Pete's hand felt so warm and firm through the fabric of Vegas’ trousers. “You…” he growled, lip curling, voice husky as he tugged Pete towards him by the wrists, “are so lucky, we need to go .”

Pete coked his head, eyes half closed, the angle once more exposing his neck, “We could blame the alarms…” he mentioned, voice rising in innocent suggestion.

For a split second Vegas’ mind ran through a swift calculation of how late they would be if he were to merely pull Pete’s pants down and bend him over the dining table here and now before shoving the idea aside with an internal, frustrated shriek.

“We’ve already blamed the alarms twice this week,” he reminded, doing his best to ignore the barking devil on one shoulder, “We really need to go.” Then as if to merely stave off a bit of the craving, he allowed himself to bend forward, roughly, hungrily taking Pete’s mouth in his own. The kiss lingered for a beat or two longer than usual before Vegas finally pulled away, “You’re going to get me in more trouble,” he only whispered, punctuating this last with a shallower, swifter kiss, before releasing Pete’s wrists.

The bodyguard smiled at him, seeming somewhat pleased with himself, but Vegas noticed the hint of disgruntled pout he tried to hide nonetheless.

“Spoiled,” he admonished Pete, gesturing once more towards the paper bag before turning to get the rest of his things, “I meant what I said. I better not see you up tonight.”

“Fine Vegas,” Pete grumbled, slumping back in his chair and quickly finishing the last of the food on his plate, “Just be careful.”

“Always,” called Vegas, from the hallway near the front door, checking his watch and waiting for Pete to finish.

They left the apartment that morning hand in hand.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Vegas returned that night gratified to find their apartment quiet and dark.

Or well, mostly dark anyway.

Pete had left the light in the hall on for him even though he’d insisted he hadn’t needed it.

When it came to sleeping habits Pete was unusual. It took him ages to fall asleep. Most of the time everything needed to be just so. The right amount of blankets, a cup of water on the nightstand, the room shrouded in darkness. Once he was asleep however, it often took more than one attempt to wake him up. Vegas knew he could easily stomp about when coming home and probably bang a few pots and pans before even causing Pete to stir but he worried that even a single standing light would make it so that the bodyguard couldn’t get comfortable enough to drift off in the first place.

He half wondered if Pete’s insistence in keeping the hall light on was perhaps another roundabout way of having an excuse to be up for when he got home.

Even so, in spite of the light’s glaring attempt to dispell slumber, Vegas still found Pete huddled, small and puppy-like, deep within their covers and seemingly asleep when he poked his head into their bedroom. He called his name just to be sure.

“Pete…” he whispered, “ Hey Pete, you awake?” He paused and listened only receiving the soft sussurations of Pete’s breathing as a response. He nodded to himself, satisfied. He supposed the sleeping medicine had done its work then. He entered the room on bare feet making to head to their closet for a change of clothes before a sound from the bed stopped him in his tracks.

“Vegas….”

Pete’s voice was groggy and muffled. Vegas sighed internally.

So much for what the pharmacist had assured him.

He looked over his shoulder to tell Pete to rest only to find him with his eyes still closed. He blinked in surprise. Had Pete called to him in his sleep?

“Vegas…” came Pete’s voice again, and in the yellow hall light, Vegas could see his forehead crease as if with troubled thoughts. He stirred slightly and moaned, his eyes shifting rapidly back and forth beneath closed lids.

Vegas frowned, concerned. Pete must be dreaming. And whatever the dream was it didn’t seem to be a particularly pleasant one. Vegas walked over to Pete’s side of the bed and kneeled, “Hey Pete,” he called, quietly at first, “Pete wake up.”

Pete only whimpered. Vegas shook his head. Even in the middle of a nightmare, the man slept thick as a log. He reached out to give him a shake.

“Don’t!” Pete cried, voice louder, the edges of it lined with fear as if he had somehow sensed the arm reaching for him, “Vegas don’t! Please…”

Vegas froze, hand hovering just above Pete’s shoulder

“No…” Pete quavered, voice small, supplicating, helpless as a child’s, “Vegas don’t…please Vegas…no!….”

Seconds ran past and all Vegas could do was kneel, hand still extended towards Pete, feeling for the life of him, his limbs growing cold, the hairs along them prickling as if something had walked across his grave, as if his body was filling from the inside with ice.

The sound of Pete’s pleas went on and on for at least a minute more before finally, mercifully, a change seemed came over Pete’s face and the crease on his forehead softened. Something steadied his breathing—-the end of the dream perhaps? For after a while he called out no more and appered, if anything, to only fall into a deeper slumber.

Vegas remained in his position for a few heartbeats more, still as if carved from a pillar of stone before swiftly withdrawing his hand over Pete’s form and rising in one quick and fluid motion.

He stood staring down at Pete, body as tense as a sprinter on a starting line, the posture of someone accustomed to running from danger and forced himself to let the pounding of his heart begin to lessen. He observed the now even rise and fall of Pete’s chest under the blankets, it’s rhythmic motion serving as the antidote to the shock of adrenaline coursing through him. After a while he felt himself finally calm. He continued to look down at Pete, noticing as if on its own, his hand beginning to stretch towards his peaceful body once more. Vegas found himself pulling it back harshly, the gesture as if he’d been scalded by something hot before merely turning and robotically walking towards the darkness of their closet.

He changed out of his work clothes trying his best not to think. When he was done he walked over to his side of the bed and hesitated, seeming to struggle with something. After a moment he finally laid down over the top of their covers facing his body away from Pete. He listened to the steady march of seconds ticking one after the other by the hand of their hanging clock.

Quietly he laid awake counting their progress one by one in the darkness. After reaching a thousand and still unable to close his eyes, he shifted finally, surrendering to that invisible tether and turning his body towards Pete. He perched his head on an arm and took in Pete’s sleeping form.

In the dim light, he measured Pete’s inhales and exhales, the push and pull of the tide of his breathing. He did this throughout the rest of the night, eyes dry, and red, unable to make himself lose consciousness until the first mists of light started drifting steadily through the windows of their curtained room.

**Read the rest on A03!**

I still need a fic where Pete has nightmares about Vegas getting shot by the pool.

Wouldn't mind fics where

Vegas wakes him up from his dream and reassures Pete he is fine

or Pete eventually wakes up but Vegas is staying elsewhere due to business so Pete has the urgent need to call Vegas, check in on him, get reassured Vegas is okay

or a fic where Vegas wakes up and hears Pete talk in his sleep, reliving the moment Vegas got shot, maybe Pete desperately cries for Vegas in his sleep like he did at the pool and that triggers a memory for Vegas...

The angst potential is so delicious. I wish I could actually write.

Should you have seen a fic where Pete has nightmares about this feel free to link me. I must have missed it then.

#kinnporche the series #vegas pete #vegas pete fic #vegas pete angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #vegas death #pete/vegas #fanfic #ao3 #fic prompt

118 notes · View notes

papermoonloveslucy · 7 years ago

Text

LUCY AND PHIL HARRIS STRIKE UP THE BAND

S6;E21 ~ February 25, 1974

Directed by Jack Donohue ~ Written by Robert O'Brien

Synopsis

To drum up business for the Unique Employment Agency, Lucy replies to an ad in the newspaper to supply musicians for Phil Harris' orchestra. The candidates she brings Harris are all of different ethnicity, creating a multi-cultural musical act.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter)

Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter) does not appear in this episode, although the final credits do state “Lucie Arnaz Wardrobe by Alroe”. The character is mentioned by Lucy in the dialogue.

Guest Cast

Phil Harris (Himself) previously played soused songwriter Phil Stanley in a 1968 episode of “The Lucy Show.” Harris was known as a bandleader who became a comic radio star as a Jack Benny sidekick in the 1930s. Although his fondness for booze was largely a creation of the Benny’s writers, Harris played the part to the hilt. Harris was mentioned in “Lucy Gets Jack Benny’s Account” (TLS S6;E6) when Benny made a reference to Harris’ persona as a lush. In “Lucy and Joan” (TLS S4;E4) Joan (Joan Blondell) says she’s been in pictures so long she saw Phil Harris take his first drink! Harris was married to movie star Alice Faye from 1941 until his death in 1995 at age 91.

Tommy Farrell (Fred, Phil Harris' Arranger) was on Broadway in three plays between 1942 and 1947. He was seen on “The Lucy Show” twice. This is the last of his six episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”

In the final credits Farrell is billed as “Freddie” although Harris never calls him anything but “Fred.” The name is probably a tribute to Lucille Ball's brother and grandfather, both of whom were named Fred.

Marl Young (Marl Young, Pianist) was the “Here’s Lucy” musical director and often appeared on camera when episodes included music.

Young (as the character) says he's been working as an accountant. His last gig was with the Boston Philharmonic.

Michaelani (Mr. Yamoto) makes the third of his four screen appearances here.

Mr. Yamoto plays the clarinet and says he speaks several languages.

Anthony Ortega (Ooka Lanooka) was a professional saxophonist (although he does not play the instrument here) and is making his screen acting debut.

Ooka Lanooka plays the whale bones and is number one in his field. Back in Alaska, he worked a couple of one-night stands, which Lucy calls “working steady” because the nights in Alaska are six months long!

Henry L. Miranda (Pancho Rodriguez)

Pancho is a trumpet player formerly of Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass.

Jack Kelso (Saxophonist in Harris' Band, uncredited) worked as a studio musician between 1964 and 1984, in addition to recording with Mercer Ellington and Mink DeVille, touring worldwide and appearing in "The Concert for Bangladesh" as part of Jim Horn and the Hollywood Horns.

Ted Nash (Saxophonist / Clarinetist in Harris' Band, uncredited) was a saxophonist with Les Brown and His Band of Renown. In addition to being a studio musician for many films, he worked on the series “Peter Gunn” (1958-59).

The other members of Harris' orchestra, including ‘Hawaiian’ guitarist Malikalua, are played by uncredited musicians.

Two days after this episode first aired, February 27, 1974, The New York Times broke the news that Lucille Ball had decided not to continue with “Here’s Lucy” and that the show would finish production at the end of its current season. This came as no surprise to anyone, including viewers.

The the book “Lucy A to Z: The Lucille Ball Encyclopedia” by Michael Karol, it is noted that Anthony Ortega was a professional saxophonist who was cast by “Here's Lucy” Musical Director Marl Young. Ortega remembers nearly stepping on Lucille Ball's foot while crammed into the booth to pre-record the music for this episode. Afterwards, Ball complimented him by kissing him on the cheek and saying “You did a good job. I hear that you are a very fine saxophone player.” High praise, considering that all Ball's TV characters were amateur saxophonists. Ortega shared the booth with fellow sax players Jack Kelso and Ted Nash who also appear in the episode.

The script was dated January 9, 1974, meaning there was very little time between filming and broadcast – a mere seven weeks.

In her DVD introduction to the episode, Lucie Arnaz reminds us of her mother's early advocacy for hiring minorities, including Lucie's own father, Desi Arnaz, whom CBS was skeptical about portraying Ricky Ricardo. She also states that Marl Young was the first African American Musical Director of a major television show. Lucie calls this episode “Music for Everyone's Ears.”

Lucy says she was at the Wilshire Bowl the night Alice met Phil. This is a reference to Phil Harris' second wife, movie star Alice Faye. Faye herself was mentioned on “The Hollywood Unemployment Follies” (S3;E22) when Lucy and Carol Burnett discover a rack of costumes worn by Faye and Betty Grable. Harris and his orchestra had a regular engagement at the Wilshire Bowl, a restaurant in Hollywood located on Wilshire Boulevard which operated from 1933 to 1943. The building was demolished in 1982. Harris married actress / singer Alice Faye in 1941. Lucy says if she'd gotten to the Wilshire Bowl five minutes sooner she might be Mrs. Phil Harris!

“Phil Harris, popular star of stage screen and television, is taking a sentimental journey back into the music business. Between Las Vegas engagements, Phil is organizing a big band to encourage the increasing popularity of this kind of music. The former maestro has been engaged by the Club Internationale to inaugurate a big band policy for this popular night spot. He is looking for musicians with big band know-how to augment his orchestra now in rehearsal.”

Lucy's morning paper of choice is the Globe-Record. “Here's Lucy” propmaster Kenneth Westcott probably got this newspaper from from a small prop company called The Earl Hays Press, one of the oldest newspaper prop manufacturers in Hollywood.

As the series draws to a close, it might be a good time to mention the ubiquitous blue report covers used at the Unique Employment Agency. The use of this color cover dates back to the Westland bank offices on “The Lucy Show.” These are probably bound scripts recycled as props – but always with the blue cover. Blue was a good color for Lucy!

To drum up business, Harry arranges a lunch meeting with the Northshore Insurance Company. In many episodes like this one, Gale Gordon's character is in the set-up (generally the first scene) and then disappears from the narrative.

When Lucy arrives at the nightclub, Phil Harris is finishing a rehearsal of “Is It True What They Say About Dixie?" a 1936 song written by Irving Caesar, Sammy Lerner and Gerald Marks.

Lucy tells Harris that they have met before. She had Harris autograph her program during his performances at the Frontier in Las Vegas the previous summer. Lucy says she took the bus to Vegas. Frontier was the second resort that opened on the Las Vegas Strip and operated continuously from October 1942 until it closed on July 16, 2007 and was demolished. The Frontier's sign was glimpsed in the opening montage of “Lucy and Wayne Newton” (S2;E22).

When Mr. Yamoto (who is of Japanese descent) continually bows instead of speaks, Lucy reassures Harris that he's very good. Harris replies “Must be. He ain't hit a note and he's already taking bows.”

When Harris questions Lucy about the number of minorities she's brought to audition, he admits that he is Native American himself, but he doesn't let it get around because “they might cut off my whiskey.” He adds if it wasn't for [Equal] Opportunity, he might be “stringing beads at Wounded Knee.” I reality, the idea that Harris was Native American is as exaggerated as his penchant for spirits. Harris' birth name was Wonga, which is Cherokee for “speedy messenger” but the name is in honor of a friend of his parents' who worked in their circus; nothing to do with his heritage.

The only candidate that doesn't get to perform solo is named Malikalua. He is a Hawaiian guitar player who Lucy claims works as a plumber during the day but sometimes subs with the Les Brown Band at night. In the final performance the guitarist on the bandstand wears a Hawaiian shirt and many colorful leis around his neck. This is Malikalua.

Phil Harris: Look, honey. Are you from the employment agency or the United Nations?

To appease a women’s lib group picketing the nightclub, Lucy is quickly recruited into Harris' act. She provides the obligatory clapping for “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” In “Lucy and the Used Car Dealer” (S2;E9) Lucy Carter disguises herself as ‘Laredo Lucy’ and sings a bit of “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” a 1941 song by June Hershey and Don Swander.

Harris sings his hit song “That’s What I Like About the South” by Andy Razlaf and is joined by Lucy and his recently hired musicians. Specially written lyrics are sung by the diverse musicians and by Lucy. Her's seem particularly applicable to her character in Mame, although it is not overtly stated:

“Men have names like Beauregard

Tip their hat when they pass your yard

They act so cool but they fall so hard

That's what I like about the South”

In the about-to-be-released film, Southern gentleman Beauregard Jackson Pickett Burnside (Robert Preston) “falls so hard” for Mame Dennis (Lucille Ball) that the two get married.

During Harris' performance at the Club Internationale, the orchestra members stand up and take solos:

His trombonist plays in the style of Tommy Dorsey. Dorsey appeared with Lucille Ball in the 1943 film DuBarry Was a Lady. The uncredited musician riffs on “Marie” by Irving Berlin.

His trumpeter plays in the style of Harry James. James appeared on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” with his wife, Betty Grable, in 1958. The uncredited musician riffs on "Ciribiribin" written by Alberto Pestalozza in 1898.

His clarinetist Ted Nash plays in the style of Benny Goodman. In “The Publicity Agent” (ILL S1;E31) Lucy reads that the Shah of Persia has a standing order for all Benny Goodman's records, which inspires her disguise as the Maharincess of Franistan. Nash riffs on “Let's Dance” by Fanny Mae Baldridge, Gregory Stone, and Joseph Bonime.

His drummer plays in the manner of Gene Krupa. In a 1960 episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” Ernie Kovacs called Desi Arnaz “the Cuban Krupa.” The uncredited musician riffs on “Sing, Sing, Sing” by Louis Prima.

Pianist Marl Young plays in the style of Duke Ellington, riffing on"Take the 'A' Train" by Billy Strayhorn. It was the signature tune of the Duke Ellington orchestra.

As the finale, the entire Phil Harris orchestra plays in the style of Count Basie performing Basie's signature tune “One O'Clock Jump” while Lucy does the jitterbug.

In “Lucy and Sid Caesar” (TLS S6;E23), a starving Frankie the Forger (Sid Caesar) orders pork chops, a squab stuffed with oyster dressing, a turkey, lasagna, black-eyed peas, candied yams, corn pone, Virginia hams, hot bread, turnip beans, fat back, and lima beans! He is paraphrasing the lyrics to the song “That’s What I Like About the South.” Interestingly, the song was not performed by Phil Harris when he was a guest star on “The Lucy Show” just a month earlier.

Bob O'Brien also wrote “Lucy and Phil Harris” (TLS S6;E20), Harris' first appearance with Lucille Ball on “The Lucy Show” in 1968. It was O'Brien's idea to highlight ethnic diversity in the “Here’s Lucy” script.

The costumes Lucy provides for the new band members are reminiscent of “The Black Wig” (ILL S3;E26) where Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz disguise themselves in a random assortment of theatrical costumes to fool their husbands. Lucy replies that Ethel looks like “An ad for a trip around the world.”

In “Little Ricky Gets a Dog” (ILL S6;E14) on January 21, 1957) his parakeets are named Alice and Phil, named after Alice Faye and her husband Phil Harris.

You Break Me Up, Pastel! Harris' punchline “they might cut off my whiskey” makes Lucille Ball laugh in a way that suggests it was an ad lib by Harris. He mutters something under his breath to Ball along the lines of “Cut off his whiskey. You like that?” They try to return to the script, but Harris adds “You like that, eh Pastel?” before Lucy regains her composure and continues the scene.

“Lucy and Phil Harris Strike Up the Band” rates 4 Paper Hearts out of 5

Lucy and Harris have a very relaxed rapport on screen. The ‘big band’ medley is one of the best musical segments of the series. And that’s what I liked about this episode!

3 notes · View notes

deepfriedtwinkie · 7 years ago

Text

Kingsman: A Trainee’s Mission (Pt. VII)

PREQUEL FIC, this section ~2,700w

“For God’s sake, will you shut that dreck off?”

It’s that awful Blondie song on the radio again, the one he’s hated since it first came out months ago. Something about the tide over and over. Looking somewhat chastised—he hadn’t meant to snap, but good God—Kenneth reaches for the shared stereo and switches to another station. Hall & Oates drift through the barracks instead. Far more tolerable.

“Thank you,” Harry says, making an effort to sound more kindly this time.

Mr. Pickle pirouettes for attention at his feet. Returning to a smile, Harry leans forward in his seat, stroking the ruff of fur above his collar. I haven’t forgotten you, don’t worry. For a moment, they’re joined by a nosey Ainsley, but then she ambles off, posting herself at the door, wuffing at something or other.

“Hey,” Hamish warns. He snaps his fingers at his side. “Come on now, there’s nothing there for you. Here, girl.”

Ainsley returns, but she wasn’t off the mark. There’s a sharp one-two rapped on the door, and then it opens, bearing Arthur. The six remaining candidates burst to their feet.

“At ease,” Arthur tells them. He consults his clipboard while they sink back down, exchanging nervous glances. “I come bearing good news. Tonight, you will all be attending a party.”

Harry’s peripheral picks up Graham easing into a grin, then Derrington flicking him upside the head. “S’not gonna be for fun, idiot,” he catches.

Arthur is holding out a stack of laminated sheets of paper, the contents indecipherable from here. “Hand those around,” he says to William, who dutifully complies.

Getting his hands on one doesn’t answer any questions. It’s a photograph of a woman, unidentified, presumably in her early twenties. Peeking over shoulders, Harry notices that two of the others have the same one. The rest, including Hamish, share a second lady. Same age, similar anonymity. Different haircut.

“Sir?”

“The women in these photographs will be the targets for your next task.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “I…don’t suppose you mean interrogating them, or something like that?”

There’s an abrasive cackle from Derrington’s direction. “He means fucking them. Bit of slam and scram.”

It’s more than slightly surprising to see Arthur whip the photo away and whack him over the head with it.

“Rubbish,” he admonishes, jutting the page back into the flinching man’s hands. “And don’t ever let me catch a thing so crass out of your mouth again. A Kingsman agent must be prepared to use any means necessary to an end; that does not mean he uses the opportunity to misconduct himself. We are gentlemen above everything, and covert or not, you will be representing Kingsman to the world. I’ll not have anyone behaving like cavemen under our umbrella.”

And we’ve all seen what those can do, Harry considers adding, but he really wouldn’t rather interrupt at the moment.

“Yes. Your assignment is to win the favor of these young women. The objective is to inspire her to offer up her company for the night. But so help me, you will be charming, you will be civil, and you will remember you are speaking to another human being. Attempts to complete the task with any less than one hundred percent voluntary consent will not be tolerated, punishable by immediate dismissal, if not worse. Am I quite perfectly understood?”

Their six ‘yes sirs’ are simultaneous, which is a relief, frankly.

“All right then.”

A hand goes up, despite the fact that this isn’t primary school. “How come only two, when there’s six of us?” Kenneth asks.

This is the part where Arthur starts to smile. Rather wickedly, in fact.

“Well. What fun would it be without a bit of competition?”

Harry looks to Hamish, who’s looking back with the same trepidation. Oh, good. At least it isn’t only me.

It doesn’t take them very long to dress when Arthur leaves. Mainly because a garment bag has appeared on each of their bunks by the time they arrive at them. He’s stopped asking where these things come from. He puts everything on with a detached efficiency, saving his first proper look for the finished product, curiosity compelling him toward the mirror when he’s through. It’s a melon-pink blazer and slacks he’s got on, both in a fashionably-oversized ill fit, topping off a clinging beige turtleneck. Lucky thing Arthur’s got people for this. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t wear a stitch of this without cash up front.

Not that he doesn’t pull it off, of course.

A crane of the neck buys him a look at Hamish’s getup, and then he caws out the most graceless laugh imaginable by man.

Hamish is scowling. “Fuck off.”

It’s the most nauseatingly-patterned disgrace of a button-down, black and white with loops all over, and an oversize black bowler hat, clearly custom-made for someone whose skull was an animated watermelon. With a fondness for rosaries, no less, because he’s wearing three. Green slacks come out at the bottom somewhere, but it’s hardly their fault. They shouldn’t be burned without a fair trial. “I saved your life; I get to enjoy this from here to the transport.” There’s a brooch on the brim of the hat. With a feather in it. A turquoise one. My God, if a pawn shop could vomit up a human being.

“Remember when we didn’t talk?” Hamish starts his march toward the exit. “I miss that. Let’s go back to that.”

Harry scurries up to stay on his heels. “Sorry, not on your life.”

“I fucking hate this mission.”

“I’ll give it this: wherever we’re going certainly must be somewhere interesting.”

It isn’t, because of course it isn’t.

It’s a nightclub. Only once in his life has Harry ever been to one of these. His roommate at Oxford once dragged him along for a stag, where he came to the conclusion that intriguing company is wasted on rooms where you can’t bloody hear yourself think. They’ve gotten worse in the past year, clearly. The floors in this one are stickier, and the lights flash at a more obnoxious speed than he remembers. Oh good, I love scouring for targets in the Blitz.

The six of them split off almost immediately. They’ve got women to find and very little time to find them, which adds up to quite a few backs-of-heads to shout at. At least the music vibrating in Harry’s skull is a fair distraction from what was doing it before.

Truthfully, he’s never done this. He’s never seduced a woman. Or a man, for that matter. Sure, of course there’d been opportunities, at Oxford particularly, that had presented themselves, and yet… Nothing, to this day. And the strangest thing: he isn’t even sorry. There were always other goals in his sights, other prizes to keep his eye on. There was Kingsman.

Much like there is now. Watching him remotely, waiting for him to miraculously become Roger Moore and inspire a young woman to take her clothes off.

This is going to be a very long night.

A server passes, then rounds on him, wordlessly offering a flute of champagne specifically to him. At this rate, it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. Nerves will bugger him up for sure. Nodding in lieu of shouting thanks above the noise, Harry accepts, downing a generous pull before the man is even gone.

“Looking for someone?” the server yells helpfully.

So much for avoiding that. “Yes, actually.” He drinks again, hoping to stall a bit. His dread is honest-to-God making the room spin now, but like hell that’s getting included in his answer. “I…”

Now the lights. They’re… They’re obscuring everyone. Everyone is…changing colors…

“I…seem to have…misplaced her… I’m… I’m looking…”

“That’s a shame, Harry,” the server says. The last thing that floats into his sight is the most leering smile. “Because I’ve been looking for you.”

He wakes to the cold shock of a tidal wave.

Thrashing his head, coughing, choking, Harry grabs. At nothing. A zip tie digs into his wrist. It’s behind his back, tethered to the other one. Around a chair. He’s in a chair. And his feet are bound. Tugging doesn’t free them.

His chest heaves erratically, partly in fear, partly for lack of breath. It’s not the time for either. Get ahold of yourself. Open your eyes.

He does. He scans desperately. In every direction, darkness. And concrete. Concrete walls, concrete pillars. He can tell there’s concrete under his feet. It’s a parking structure. There’s not enough light to tell him anything else. Nothing about where exactly this is. Or why he’s here. And there’s…

There’s something strapped to his chest. A box. A box, with…

With a readout on the front. Numbers. Red numbers.

Counting down.

A flashlight clicks on in the hand of a man ahead of him. Banishing shadow from the corner he was hiding in. Illuminating a face. It’s the server’s, from the nightclub.

“How wonderful you could join us, Harry,” the man says.

Harry thrashes forward in his seat. “Untie me. Untie me this instant.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He stops straining as the man comes closer, horrifyingly aware of the metronome both inside and outside of his chest. “You see, Harry Hart, there are ways that you and I can help each other.”

This is to do with that Russian man. Or one of Mother’s enemies. What else do they know? What else have they gone after? He pulls at his wrists until the zip tie chafes away a layer of skin. “Kill me and you’ll regret it.” He swallows hard. “Kill me and there won’t be a safe place for you to hide. I promise you that.”

The man tsks, and his voice becomes a lull. Nauseating. “You think I’d prefer to kill you? What an awfully rude assumption… I’d very much prefer for you to live. And that can certainly be arranged.” He nods toward the device, ticking away. “I, and I alone, have the code to disarm that bomb you’re wearing.”

A bomb. So it’s a bomb for certain, then. He’d been hoping against hope he was wrong. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, get me out of here.

“I’d like nothing more than to do that for you, Harry. There’s just one thing you have to give me first. The truth. About Martin Turner, and the fucking Kingsman ‘Tailors.’”

The beeps of the device drown out the cretin’s voice, and they’re in turn drowned out by memories. It’s not his whole life that flashes before his eyes. It’s the relevant parts, and he hears one now in particular, even as a bead of sweat rolls down his spine. His mother’s voice, a little sad. “Always remember, Harry. In this business, it’s the good of the world that must come first. Even when we don’t like it. Even when we wish we could do more.”

He looks up from under a darkened brow, personally damning this man to burn.

“We’re open Monday to Saturday, seven to five, you spineless piece of shit.”

His captor laughs loudly, completely devoid of both humour and joy. Bordering on rage. “You don’t want to die like all the others, do you, Harry?”

The others. No. Hamish. He hasn’t. He can’t have.

“I’ve blown seven of you little pricks to shit tonight; what the fuck do you think one more’s going to be?”

He’s starting to back up. One large, slow step at a time. Harry forces his chin as far down as it goes and barely makes out the upside-down readout.

There are ten seconds left. Ten fucking seconds.

“Your last chance is slipping away, Harry.” His backward walk quickens. “The price is Kingsman. I hate to see you die as stupid as the others.”

Five seconds, if that. Five seconds left to live. Harry shuts his eyes as tight as they go, rushing a silent prayer to whatever’s listening. Let my mothers know. Let them be proud of me. Don’t let them grieve too long.

The man disappears behind the concrete wall just as the roar rips from Harry’s throat.

“Then we’ll all see you in hell!”

The beeps go spastic. He braces.

Then they stop altogether.

For ten, fifteen seconds, Harry doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t so much as open his eyes. Not until he hears the sound of footsteps, too solid, near and real to be the afterlife. His eyes bolt open, and this time, the man with the flashlight isn’t the server. It’s Agent Lamorak.

He looks down. The timer, stopped at zero, blinks itself off.

Only then, finally, does he exhale, slumping as far as he’ll go.

“Absolutely fucking extraordinary,” pronounces Martin. “Not that that’s any great surprise to anyone.” From his coat pocket, he produces a small knife, swiftly cutting loose his ankles, then his hands. “Congratulations. You’ve passed beautifully.”

Passed… Harry rubs his wrists while his mentor slashes the bindings in back of the chair. “It was a trial all along. There was no woman.”

“No, there was a woman. Cynthia and Maeve, from our call centre. About four of you actually made it that far. No results of course, but fun to watch all the same.”

I should have fucking known. He wishes somebody would tell his heartrate.

“All right, that should do. Go on and take that dud off.”

He stands, slightly dizzy from the aftereffects of the drugs, peeling electricians’ tape from his soaked, awful jacket. “What of the others? How have they done?”

“Kenneth and Graham both failed like Hitler at Stalingrad. Sang like canaries, the poor bastards. You’re the first one to pass.”

“And Hamish?” Harry refills with hope for his friend, grateful for the second time he isn’t dead.

“He’s next. Takes a bit to set up.” Martin eyes Harry. “Want to watch?”

“...Yes, actually.”

They reach the control room in time to see Hamish, newly hatless and pissed, struggling against his chair on the infrared monitor. He’s facing off against the same assailant. Harry feels mildly bad for calling the man a piece of shit now. He’s very convincing. Probably works in their hangar or something like that.

“I’ll make this simple. Tell me everything you know about Duncan Billingsley and the Kingsman operation, and I’ll keep you from blowing sky high like all your friends.”

“Please. Like fuck you could kill Harry Hart.”

He’s oddly touched by that. It’s awfully sweet of Hamish to say in the midst of supposing he might die. He’ll have to remember to tell his mother he’s made that impression on someone.

“You can do what you like to me. I dunno what you’re talking about. I’m a fucking tailor’s apprentice, and you can go fuck yourself.”

“Have it your way.”

The man retreats out of frame. Hamish tenses. The decoy bomb’s rapid beeping fills the feed with static. It’s far calmer to watch than to experience. Harry wishes momentarily that the camera better captured Hamish’s expression, knowing he’s petrified, the poor thing. Give it a moment, you’re all right.

They watch Lancelot emerge.

“At ease, son, you’re not dead. Congratulations. I’m proud to say you’ve passed the test.”

It doesn’t take any delay for Hamish to lunge as if to punch him.

“Oh, the fucking test!? The fucking test, is that it!? Fuck you too. Fuck you. Fucking hell. I’ve got a mind to strap you down to one of these, see how long it takes you to shit yourself. That’s the last time I drink the fucking champagne.”

Harry can’t help but laugh as Martin knowingly holds down the two-way button for him. “Not a bad idea,” he says, and the Hamish on the screen visibly flinches, looking up toward the parking level above for the source of the broadcast.

“Harry? Where the fuck are you?”

“The control room,” he grins. “Come and join us. There’s still a good chance to see at least one of the others cry like a baby.”

Hamish is still for a moment while Agent Lancelot cuts him loose. There’s an appeased resignation when he stands, following his mentor.

“Yeah, all right.”

pt. VIII | pt. IX

#Kingsman #Harry Hart #Agent Merlin #Kingsman: The Secret Service #Kingsman: The Golden Circle #fanfic #oh look Aud did a thing

2 notes · View notes

eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago

Text

333.

Are you the clubbing type? >> I’ve never been to a nightclub, so I have no idea. Probably not, though. Bar goer? >> I go to bars, yes. How old are you? >> 32. Song you can’t stand? >> I rarely remember songs I don’t like off the top of my head. Menthol or non-menthol, when it comes to it? >> When I did smoke, I preferred menthol. I like the sharp feeling.

Are you the candle lighting type? >> I don’t use candles much anymore; the fragrances they use for them are usually kind of awful to me. There are some candle types I like, though -- the ones with the wick that simulates a crackling fire, for example. Love those in winter (especially if they smell like pine or something else Christmas-y). Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? >> Most of my fondness for Phoenix was sexual in the first place, and I imagine I’d still find him attractive if I ran into him (not as much as I did, though). He’s really the only one that qualifies for this question, because I’m not sexually attracted to any of my other exes. Most of those people I was with because... they wanted me, basically, and I wasn’t completely opposed to them. Even the people I was emotionally attracted to, I wasn’t necessarily sexually attracted to. That’s not because there was something wrong with them -- they were all good-looking people -- so it’s not like that. I just... am not at all easily attracted to people in that way. Even I’m not sure how sexual attraction works for me (inworld and fantasy shit notwithstanding). What is unattractive about them? >> There were a lot of unattractive things about people I "dated”, and I’m not going to go listing it all. Your hottest exe’s name starts with the letter what? >> --- Fast food junkie are you? >> No, I rarely eat fast food anymore. Are you around a lot of people all the time? >> No. Do you have a crap load of friends to hang out with? >> No. I don’t. Not such a bad thing though. Do you know what sixlets are? >> No. Pick two highliter colors: Yellow, Pink, Blue, Purple, Orange >> I don’t even use highlighters. Coffee in the morning, yay or nay? >> I don’t drink coffee because 1) I don’t much care for it and 2) I’m pretty caffeine-sensitive so if I’m going to drink anything caffeinated it’ll probably be black tea. Do you ever drink your coffee black? >> I did when I did drink it. Finish the lyrics: I like my coffee black just like my ( blank ) >> Metal.

Body waxing, yay or nay? >> I have no opinion. I’m sure it’s very convenient. Do you have a uni-brow? >> No. Do you sometimes wish it was ok for girls to grow their pit hair? >> But... it is okay. You can make all the “but Other People don’t like it~” excuses you want, but at the end of the day it really still is your choice and your prerogative. Amsterdam vacay or Canada? >> *shrug* Honeymoon, where? >> Our extended stay in New Orleans through Halloween is going to function as a “honeymoon”. Would you rather live in a house right now or an apartment? >> I’d rather live in, like, a condo or a duplex or something. Or a house, sure, I guess. Coffee gum, yay or nay? >> That... doesn’t sound appealing to me. Do you floss your teeth everynight? >> No. Every week? >> No. Do you know how to thread off hairs? Or even know what I’m talking about? >> I know what you’re talking about, but no, I don’t know how. Did you live in the age of cassette tapes? >> I did. Coolest toy of back in the day? >> *shrug* I liked my computer and that was really it. Best brand of tea? >> I don’t know. Are you a tea freak like me? >> I like tea very much, but I’m not very knowledgeable about it. I am a mild enthusiast at best. Organic food, awesome or you really don’t g.a.f >> I believe in the concept, but... meh. Do you own a rosary? >> Yeah, a decorative one. Have you ever destroyed a bible? >> I remember we used to use Bible pages as rolling paper in a pinch. So, yes. Or a religious figure? >> What, like an icon or something? No. I generally don’t disrespect or desecrate religious items (although I suppose my sexualisation of certain things could be seen as “disrespect” depending on who you ask), the Bible-paper thing was an anomaly because of the people I was around. Do you regret it? >> I don’t regret it, I just think it was kind of stupid and Edgy(tm) in retrospect. Anal sex, yay or nay? >> Nay. It’s one of my very hard limits. Ok, sorry, why not. Blue lipstick, yay or nay? >> Yay for whoever wants to wear it. I wouldn’t, because it doesn’t suit me. Random or basic surveys? >> What is the difference? Is this question lame: “Have you had sex?” >> It’s not a lame question. And the answer is yes. I think it is. Sharpies or visa-vis? >> I use Sharpies. Sharpies or highlighters? >> Those are made for two different purposes... Sharpies or paint markers? >> Meh. Did you ever watch that show with the gnomes? It’s old. >> What show...? Have you ever watched Flight of Dragons? >> No. Can you hoola-hoop real good? >> Not real good, no. Do you like to dive into the pool? >> I can’t swim, so no, that’s not a good idea for me. Do you like to jump in or get in a non-jumpy way? >> --- FUDGE. What kind of FUDGE would you like? >> I don’t like fudge. Visit Barbados or Australia? >> Either is fine. How would like to ride to work everyday on a bike? Not a motor bike. >> --- Do you like to surf? >> I’ve never been surfing. But like I said, I can’t swim, so I’ll never go surfing anyway. Have you ever cut your own hair? >> I usually do. How did that go for you? >> It goes fine. It’s very difficult to fuck up a buzzcut, lmao. Have you ever cut your hair with kitchen scissors or craft scissors? >> No. Also, Sparrow is a licensed cosmetologist and would probably have a seizure if I did that in front of her. Not a good idea. Something gross someone has done? >> Er... Has anyone ever written on you? >> Yeah. Has anyone ever annoyingly scribbled a smiley on your schoolwork as a kid? >> I mean, teachers used to put smileys on graded classwork...? I don’t know any other circumstance where smileys would appear on my classwork. Do you like the AC blasting all the time? >> Not at all. I prefer running the AC for a little while to cool off the air, and then using fans to keep it circulating after that. Too much AC makes my sinuses act up and also just... doesn’t feel good, for me. Do you get more cold easily or more hot easily? >> I get hot very easily. Do you walk through puddles or try to avoid them? >> I try to avoid them, I hate getting water in my shoes. Even when I’m wearing rain boots I reflexively avoid puddles, lol. Do you pet a stranger’s dog or avoid them? >> I love petting strangers’ dogs, if they’re okay with it. Do you ever cross your legs while sitting down? >> No, I find that posture very uncomfortable. Always have, for some reason. Can you name something bad about crossing your legs? >> I don’t know anything bad about crossing one’s legs. I just know I can’t sit like that. I can. Do you ever sit with your legs wide open? >> Occasionally. Have you ever had to complain about your internet not working well? >> Definitely. Our internet is kind of shitty, actually, in comparison to what’s available. Hopefully we’ll change providers soon. Lipstick over the actual natural lip-line, your thoughts? >> I have no thoughts. Is the Dark Knight movie overrated? >> I don’t know if it’s overrated. I thought it was pretty interesting. Have you ever dated someone with really crooked teeth? >> No. Have you ever dated a fat person? >> No. Have you ever dated someone with a fine ass body? >> I guess.

#surveys #survey #random survey

0 notes

minnacaudle78-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Alligator Jackson's Preference Best 10 Huntington, WV Bars From All.

The winter has brought interruption to flights, along with dozens cancelled at Heathrow, Birmingham, Luton and also Stansted. . The evening stands furnishings in your room will certainly accomplish the total appearance of your furnishings. After a fretful night's rest final night I hung around along with panic for Wally the auto mechanic to return with his load-tester for the batteries. Pune's evening lifestyle may not be actually as taking place as other Metros yet this performs provide some of the most popular clubs and also discs to sizzle your night lifestyle. It is recognized that 8% to 22% of folks that take in antidepressants experience evening sweats. Traveling - specifically night flying - are going to continue to rise the requirements put on airmen; nevertheless, thorough preparation, instruction and efficiency are the tricks to increasing the competency from our fight captains. The one-time acquisition from a single collection of these pieces are going to make it possible for the specific to turn down her a/c during the night. You merely left the nightclub, you and also your buddies have been dancing all night and also every person is actually famished. In addition to the time as well as date, you can easily likewise check out the battery, Bluetooth, hours rested, step more resources counter, calories, span, as well as center cost. Newspaper Plane evening: Generate the most ideal newspaper plane you may bring in along with your personal design and colors. In the course of the summertime the times could be remarkably scorching very hot and after that in the evening the temperature levels could quickly go down. Besides, in today's traditionally low rate of interest atmosphere, no low danger SWAN (sleep properly at night) supply yields 15%. The cause they take place at night is given that our hormones go slowly within the day, at that point quit at night. This's a nationality to exist and also quit an underground fighter team from executing the person who prefers all of them dead - even when that's legal to murder him on Purge Evening.. Fond memories is actually regularly aided through bunches of pictures and senior prom evening must be no exception. Although one of the most fun could be had by simply going from bar to bar, you can easily enliven your evening with a little tour dancing or stripper action. Credit report: -Clean_Skin_Woman_p129508. htmlWhen using night lotion, that should be dealt with as a nighttime routine. The Manhattan citizen has actually been named one of Rolling Stone's 50 Craziest People, BuzzFeed's FIFTY Hottest Guys in Comedy, and also Wide array's Best 10 Comics to Check out, according to his SNL" biography. If you're stressed along with an existing job, you can easily consistently have your work for a well-deserved evening out. So yes, all men soil their sheets with evening discharge eventually in their lifestyle. Do always keep the play-time habit, as that are going to ensure that your feline really does not devote all evening being unhappy and also meowing at the door. If at any kind of point in the course of the night you catch her staring at you, you can easily recognize that she is still longing for you along with heart and soul. I would certainly believe that Rio will be a good time ... plus this is actually cozy and the summer months in South america.

0 notes

drowning-in-original-babies · 7 years ago

Text

Jayden Größel Gender: Male Age: 20 Birthday: 15th August Starsign: Leo Father: Henrik Größel Mother: Maria Größel Eye color: His eyes are a midnight/electric blue, dark of course. but beautiful. Hair color/style: his hair is a honey/bright blonde, the fringe is often dyed wicked colours at the tips though. He wears a bandana around his head, his hair spiked up over it messily at the fringe, the rest of it is cut shorter Overall appearance: his overall appearance is very 'metal', never leaving the house without his doc martens on- or his many piercings in. He loves all of them, he has a stretcher in his right ear, and on the opposite ear he has an industrial bar, he also has a septum piercing, snake bites and an eyebrow piercing,Along with a frenum ladder. He has a relatively sharp jawline and sculpted face, with piercing electric blue eyes to match- though, they're very sad looking sometimes. He's about 5"7- 5"8, his hair adds a little to his height and makes him look taller. He wears band shirts and a lot of black, he often will wear ripped jeans with pocket chains. He wears other stuff too, just not as often as the main get-up. He has self harm scars, very deep ones on his wrists. Though, they're hidden by multiple leather bracelets, he has thousands. Interests: he's interested in guitars, and music in general, he always has been, he even plays the drums and a bit of piano. Motorbikes are another interest of his- and he has a license to ride one. He doesn't ride his own much, since he walks everywhere. Loves: He has a variation of different bands that he loves- probably an inspiration for his own bands. He loves mystic and guitars in general, very punk- which ties in with his next thing he loves: leather bracelets. He has hundreds up each arm, and is still adding to them. He loves fizzy drinks, especially vita malz; it's his favourite, next to a few others like Fanta or Diet Coke. He loves motorbikes and scooters, he has his own motorbike and license- though I wouldn't mix riding a bike with his other love of alcohol. Or smoking for that matter, he smokes like it's oxygen. He loves junk food too, he's disgusting and probably full of heart disease. He loves the night, he always has, he finds comfort within the moonlight and somehow within a nightclub setting. Being in a nightclub fits when he loves being the centre of attention around people, his tattoos and piercings (which he also loves), arouse attention. He fucking loves watermelon too, and creamy pasta. When it comes to the outdoors he loves the woods, and bonfires and fireworks. And to finish it off- he's got a thing for ripped jeans and bandanas, also loves dogs. Likes: he likes games, whether that's online, video or playing. He likes to read believe it or not, though he's not so good in reading English. He secretly really likes stuffy toys, he has a stuffed seal that he hides in his room. Speaking of rooms, he likes his room best when it's messy- he does clean it, once in a blue moon. Linking to messy rooms he likes the smell of sex, alcohol, old bedsheets and the smell of dogs. Disgusting. He likes to cuddle though, he's very cuddly when he wants to be- especially on lazy Sunday mornings. He likes those. He likes juice boxes and just juice, including lemons. Pure lemons. He likes lots of juices, lime juice, grape juice, cranberry juice, the usual. Animal wise, his favourites are snakes and rats and dogs, he's also fond of lizards. Dislikes: Jayden dislikes any form of classical music, it's boring and plain to him. He dislikes Normal Cola, though he'll drink diet. He doesn't like wearing suits often, but he'll still wear them if he has to. One task he really dislikes doing is taking out his piercings and he also dislikes bacon. Ew. And eggs. He's so healthy too- he doesn't like drinking water at all, I'm sure he's forced to by his friends though. He dislikes most fruit, tomatoes (especially tomatoes) and ice pops. Hates: He hates cats due to being allergic to them, children when they're younger than 12 and oddly enough he fucking hates brussel sprouts. Watery sauces are something else he hates, he also hates people who clean obsessively. This is probably because he hates the sound of vacuums. He hates dripping sounds, school settings (too tiring for him), this is also because he hates teachers. His at least. He hates wearing shorts, the colour magenta and croissants. People he likes: Sebastian, simon, Gabriel, Jordan, Christie, Ticks, Lewis and most people he meets- especially fans of his band. People he trusts: Sebastian, Jordan and Gabriel. Person he loves more than anything: Simon People he hates: He hates his parents. Well, he doesn't, he just acts like it. He dislikes his mum though. Habits: He has a lot of bad compulsive habits, self destructive ones such as cutting- he cuts deep. He drinks and smokes like they're his second most important living resources, he uses people to deal with his own issues- mostly uses them sexually. He sleeps too much and sometimes overtakes his medication. Erogenous Zones: His neck, ears and chest- and then especially sensitive areas are: sides, neck, lower lip, ass. Instant boner button: his thighs. Kinks: He's very into dirty talk, bondage and anything bdsm. He is very good at being dominant. Spots that will make him happy: when you stroke the bridge of his nose he finds it relaxing. Health issues: he has chronic depression and insomnia, self harm issues and he's probably on suicide watch. He's severely allergic to rats and has slight anxiety. Overall personality: Jayden will fuck with you. He's that asshole you meet that will take your heart and break it, and fuck you in the process. He uses people. Because he's a massive piece of shit due to his own issues. He's extremely outgoing and extroverted, he loves to be the centre of attention and he's very entertaining- he'll have you won in a heartbeat. Even though he seems so happy and great on his exterior, he's actually a deeply sad person. And he hates himself and everything he is- proving it by destroying himself as much as he can; drinking, cutting, smoking, reckless behaviour, and such. He can be a real sweetheart, though. He lives by himself with his dog Brüno, so he hasn't got anyone to tell him not to do the things he does. It will take a lot to show that you're worthy of his trust, he has a very very hard wall to break.

#Jayden #OC #Mine

0 notes

the-jade-goblin · 8 years ago

Text

Commander Shepard Question Meme

Since this is a long post, most of it is under the cut.

I’m tagging @vorchagirl, @kadarakings, @gharrus, @masseffectish and @femsheparding

1. Introduce your Shepard. How do they look? What do they think about themselves? What kind of person is your Shepard, what are their ambitions and goals? Are they Renegade or Paragon?

My Shepard is Danica Shepard. She has shoulder-length bright orange hair and dark green eyes. She wears black lipstick and black eyeshadow, and has a scar from her left temple down her face to her right cheek.

Dani thinks of herself mostly, as a protector. She’s always determined to take care of her crew and look after her friends. Dani has never lost a single soldier under her command until Virmire, and since then she’s felt like a failure, vowing to get better and stronger so she wouldn’t lose anyone again.

Dani has never been very ambitious. She’s never cared about getting medals or promotions or whatever. Her only goals are to get stronger and do her job as well as she can. In the beginning, she’s the picture of a perfect Paragon, when she is rebuilt by Cerberus a lot of her care cup becomes empty and she has a shorter temper; she’s more of a Paragade. And in 3 she literally has zero fucks to give anymore to the people who get in her way, but she’s still a Paragon to those in need and will try to make peace where she can.

2. Tell us about your Shepard’s family background - parents, siblings? How was their relationship with them? Are any of them alive? Are they still in contact with them? Were they a Spacer, a Colonist or Earthborn?

Dani was Earthborn, which has made her tough and unlikely to show weakness. She never knew her family, but after ME3 a woman claiming to be her mother gets in contact with her, and there she meets a half-sister and step-father she never knew she had. At first she had trouble getting along with her mother, the woman who had abandoned her, but over time Dani forgave her and she gets along very well with her family members, especially her little sister Ellie.

3. What is your Shepard’s psychological profile? War Hero? Sole Survivor? Ruthless? How do they feel about this past?

Dani is a War Hero, but she feels burdened from that past. She is so compelled to save people that she earned her reputation, and whenever she loses a team mate in battle it’s a significant blow to the role she feels she’s supposed to play.

4. Is there an event from your Shepard’s past (before they joined the Alliance) that they regret? What is it?

Dani’s entire childhood could classify as that I suppose, but specifically there is one memory that Dani has never looked on with anything but deep guilt and regret. Dani joined a merc band when she was young, around 12, as a drug mule, and when she was older the leader of the gang had her dance at his nightclub when she wasn’t running smuggling missions for him. Dani met another young girl down on her luck that had joined the band as a dancer at that nightclub, but Dani discovered the young girl was being horribly abused by the gang leader, one night she saw her getting dragged into his room kicking and screaming. She walked away, afraid, and never spoke of it. The girl was dead the next day, and Dani forever regrets not trying to save her.

5. Is there an event from your Shepard’s past (before they joined the Alliance) that they look fondly on? What is it?

The moment in Dani’s life that triggered her desire to help people has always been a fond memory for her. It was no big deal really; a little boy was getting bullied by these bigger kids and they were throwing around this stuffed bear the kid was trying to get back and taunting him for sleeping with a toy at his age. Dani sucker-punched the biggest boy and told him to pick on someone his own size, and of course he went home crying. The little kid looked so happy when Dani gave him his bear back, he hugged her and started crying as he thanked her. And Dani decided that she wanted to keep helping people and see those smiles on other’s faces.

6. How is your Shepard with weapons and technology? Can they handle the new challenges or are they dependent on help? Do they fight primarily with guns or do they have biotics? Tech skills?

Dani has always prided herself on being top in her field of literally any field she attempts. Every challenge is a new obstacle for her to jump, every new weapon and piece of tech is hers to conquer to be that much better than before. Dani’s a lone wolf and has always been that way, but she can work surprisingly well with a group in combat too (especially if it’s Garrus watching her six). She’s a soldier and only ever used heavy guns and pistols until Cerberus gave her biotic implants. She never developed her biotics until the end of ME2 with the help of Jack, Samara and Miranda, and uses them fully with her weapons in ME3. She’s hopeless at tech skills though, that’s all up to Tali when it needs to be done.

7. What is their usual setup? What armor and weapons do they usually carry into a fight?

Dani favours the M-76 Revenant as her usual gun, the M-98 Widow for her sniper, and the M-9 Tempest for her backup gun. Dani wears purple and blue N7 armour manufactured from Hahne-Kedar.

8. Does your Shepard have any tattoos or piercings? If so, what are they and why did they get them?

Growing up Dani had a lip and nose piercing, but she took them out when joined the Alliance. On a trip Omega she and Joker get a Normandy tattoo, Dani on her hip, Joker on his chest. During the Reaper war, she puts back on her nose piercing, gets an N7 tattoo on her back to match James’, and she and Kaidan get the Alliance symbol tattooed on their shoulders.

9. Time for Favorites: Song? Color? Food? Ice Cream? Scent? Movie? Book? Is there a specific drink they like to have? Is there a type of comfort food they like?

Song? Hold Me Down by Halsey. It’s an old Earth song but Dani loves Halsey’s voice and the melody of the song, it’s a very calming song for her and she always plays it when she’s upset.

Colour? Purple. Her N7 armour is purple and most of her civilian clothes are too. But she’s quite partial to Vakarian blue as well.

Food? Mashed potatoes. Simple, tastes good, and easy to make.

Ice-cream? Sweet potato ice-cream. Kasumi introduced it to her when they went on a trip to Japan together and she’s loved it ever since.

Scent? Whatever it is that Garrus smells like all the time. Maybe it’s the metallic smell of the ship. Movie? Zootopia. Dani adores the old vid, she says she feels like Judy is her and Garrus is Nick. They both love watching it together.

Book? Dani has never gotten her hands on a real book, but Kasumi has a beautiful collection and one of her favourites from that collection is The Catcher in the Rye. It’s such an old book but it’s so good.

Drink? Dani loves to drink hot water and honey, sometimes with a bit of lemon. It was one of the only drinks she could get when she was growing up on the streets of New York.

10. How do they feel about being in command of the Normandy? About their SPECTRE status?

Dani was slightly nervous about her command of the Normandy; she hadn’t been in a position of command since the Skyllian Blitz, she’d always served under Anderson after that so having her own command again was a bit nerve wracking at first. Dani was honoured upon being appointed a Spectre, and as the months rolled by she began to almost take it for granted. She’d roll her eyes and mutter ‘I’m a Spectre I can do what I like’ under her breath when someone was being difficult and wouldn’t help her, but she never abused her power.

11. Any skills outside of fighting that your Shepard has: Do they know how to cook? Do they have any hobbies that they like to do? Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

Shepard has the unique ability to pole dance, from her gang days as a teenager. She can play and win any gambling game you’ll find in a casino. She loves to sketch and to paint, and sing when no one’s around. She collects crystals as well as her model ships, her favourite crystals are the ones collected from Tali’s homeworld, they glow vibrant colours in the dark.

12. What are your Shepard’s fears? Are they afraid of anything in particular?

Dani has a profound fear of spiders. And bees, since she’s allergic, but working in space you don’t run into bees very often.

13. Does your Shepard have a home away from the Normandy? If so, where is it and how do they keep it? If not, then what does your Shepard do to make their cabin feel more homely?

Dani has no home, only the Normandy. After the war she makes herself a home; or rather two. She and Garrus buy a beautiful cottage by a lake in southern Canada, and a penthouse in Palavan’s capital city.

Before that however, she makes her cabin her own by displaying her model ships everywhere, and putting up many photos of her crew throughout the years, as well decorating her fish tank with exciting fish and plants.

14. Squad: Who is your Shepard’s best friend? Do they like to do anything specific together?

Apart from Garrus, Shepard has always been closest to Liara and Tali. The three of them were part of the original team on the Normandy SR-1 so she holds them very dear to her heart. Liara and Dani on the SR-1 would spend hours talking about the Protheans, she and Tali would go shopping for cheap salvage and create new things out of the pieces, and she and Garrus always love to have shooting competitions in their spare time.

15. Squad: Who does your Shepard like the least? Why?

Dani doesn’t particularly dislike any of her crew; if she disliked them they wouldn’t be part of her crew. Having said that, there are squad members Dani isn’t as close to as others. On the SR-1, though she was fond of Ash, Dani disagreed with her anti-alien views and couldn’t relate to her Alliance family history. On the SR-2 Dani never warmed up to Jacob very much, which is surprising since Miranda’s the more untrustworthy one of the two Cerberus agents. There’s no particular reason, Dani was just much closer to others in her team.

16. Squad: Who is your Shepard’s go to squad for missions? Why do they choose that particular squad?

On the SR-1 it was always about who was best suited for each mission, aboard the SR-2 Dani stuck with the crew she knew and trusted. Garrus and Tali are her go-to team, and Garrus and Liara in ME3. She trusts these three with her life and wouldn’t want any other having her back in battle. For certain missions she’ll bring along other team members if they ask or if she thinks they’re better suited for it.

17. Romance: Are they romantically involved with anyone? If yes, what is their relationship like?

Dani and Kaidan used to be an item; their relationship was on the outside one of those ‘perfect’ ones you see in vids, on the inside Dani was always trying hard to be the woman Kaidan thought she was; perfect, military, uncomplicated. After Horizon Dani couldn’t think of Kaidan like that anymore, and eventually found her happiness in Garrus.

With Garrus, Dani can be herself; a sarcastic and sassy rogue that is sometimes ruthless and breaks the rules if need be. She’s more emotional with Garrus and she smiles a lot more. She and Garrus have a strong relationship, best friends as well as lovers who would do anything for each other.

18. Romance: If Shepard and their partner could spend a romantic moment together, what would it be like?

Shooting competition on the Presidium. One of Dani’s favourite ways to spend time with Garrus. Dani also loves watching old Earth vids with Garrus on the Normandy. After they’re married, Garrus loves to paint the Vakarian markings on Dani’s face, and Dani loves to return the gesture. The two also love cooking together, Dani loves to try out new turian foods to cook for her turian, and Garrus likes to make cupcakes for Dani when she’s feeling upset.

19. What is your Shepard’s favorite place to go in the galaxy? Why?

Dani loves many places in the galaxy. She loves visiting Tuchunka to see Wrex, and spending time with Liara on Illium. Dani loves going to Palaven and partying on Omega. She adores the Citadel the most though, it’s one of the only places in the galaxy that she feels at home, it’s a familiar save haven to go to for her.

20. What is your Shepard’s least favorite place to go in the galaxy? Why?

Ugh, Noveria. Dani can’t stand the cold and that planet is frozen to the core. She also hates Haestrom and Earth, believe it or not, she feels more at home in space.

21. What is your Shepard’s relationship to the Council? To Udina? To Anderson? Do they deal with authority well or do they struggle against them?

Dani at first respects the Council, but quickly gets fed up with their bullshit. She stays on their good side and does as she’s told by them, but after they’re done talking she usually just rolls her eyes and ignores their orders. Or she just hangs up on them.

She can’t stand Udina. At all. That goes for most politicians, but Udina is just insufferable.

Anderson is like a father to Dani; when she joined the Alliance he became her mentor and she went to him with almost everything as she grew up.

Dani can play by the rules of authority, she respects those in power but she’s never afraid to speak up when she disagrees with their policies.

22. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

She admires honesty, integrity, kindness and determination. Alliance types, but not those that follow orders blindly. She picks her crew with care, as every member of her team exhibits at least one of these traits.

Dani wishes she had the talent that Garrus does with a sniper (but she’ll NEVER admit that to the turian himself)

23. What is your Shepard’s biggest pet peeve?

People reading over her shoulder. And people judging her alien crew on that fact that they’re non-human alone.

24. How does your Shepard deal with their enemies? Do they resort to violence or do they try to be diplomatic?

Dani always tries to resolve conflict peacefully. If an enemy can be talked down she will do it, but if they can’t be reasoned with than her priority is taking them down quickly. If an enemy threatens any of her teammates, without question she will shoot them down before they can finish their sentence. No one threatens her friends.

25. How does your Shepard deal with death? Not just the deaths of civilians, but of friends (such as Mordin or Thane).

Dani is used to death; she saw a lot of it in her childhood and she learned to not be affected by it. People die, and that’s just how it is. When she gets her own command however, her attitude changes. When she loses a teammate, she considers it a personal failure. A loss, but nothing to cry personally over, just another mistake. Loss of civilians is tragic, but it doesn’t keep her up at night, it’s just another failure of her position. Through her command of the Normandy, her outlook changes, and each death of innocents wrenches at her empathy, but she vows to get better to save more lives.

Death of her friends troubles her deeply. Living her whole life alone, fending for herself, she learnt young that the weak die and the strong survive, depend on only yourself, and trust no one. But after taking command of the Normandy, she makes life-long friends, she lets people in and finds a family, people she loves and who love her. Their deaths affect her greatly. She views them as a personal failure to protect those she cares about, and their loss puts a hole in her heart.

26. What was your Shepard’s first reaction to seeing a Reaper?

Dani was struck cold, not only by the sight of a Reaper, but of its voice. When she first heard Sovereign speak she’d never felt so afraid in her life. Dani’s not frightened by many things, but the cold, calculating Reapers chill her to the bone.

27. What does your Shepard think about Cerberus? What do they think about the mercenaries that they run into on a regular basis? Is there a specific one they dislike the most? Why?

In a way, she understands Cerberus’ goal, but she would never agree with the means. As for the mercenaries well, she doesn’t have any opinion other than they make good target practise. The Blue Suns are a particular annoyance because turians are tough sons of bitches, and the Blood Pack often employ krogan and vorcha mercenaries which is irritating as those guys heal very fast and are a nuisance to take down.

28. What ending did your Shepard choose? Destroy, Synthesis or Control? Why did they choose this?

Destroy. Synthesis may sound ideal, but Dani could never force the entire galaxy to merge with synthetics without permission. She chose Destroy because she knew the only way to keep the galaxy safe was to destroy the Reapers, if she controlled them she too could one day bring them back, and she wouldn’t risk that fate. She didn’t believe the Catalyst when it said the Geth and the Mass Relays would also be destroyed, because even though they were synthetics, they were all different life forms, and she was correct.

29. Is there a song that describes your Shepard? If yes, why did you choose that song? Does your Shepard have a playlist?

It’s My Life by Bon Jovi. I think it fits Dani pretty well since the beginning of her life she’s been forging her own path and choosing the way she lives her life, no matter what anyone tries to do to control her; Alliance, Council or family.

Dani’s playlist would consist of heavy rock or metal songs, preferably in languages she doesn’t understand, or from other species with her translator turned off, so she can focus on the beat. Heavy songs like that help her get through work and battle – yes, she listens to metal while she fights.

30. Share your favorite piece of art or your favorite screenshot of your Shepard. What about it makes it your favorite?

Sadly I don’t have either

#mass effect #femshep #oc ask meme #mass effect meme #shepard ask

0 notes