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iamthenightcolormeblack · 3 years ago

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My Thoughts on Pride & Prejudice 2005: Style over Substance

Kicking off my Pride and Prejudice adaptation review series with the most popular of all the adaptations: the 2005 movie. This film stars Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet and Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Darcy.

1. GENERAL THINGS I LIKED

The cinematography and the soundtrack. Every shot is a painting, especially with the gorgeous landscape scenery. The music is beautiful and dreamy; I have listened to the soundtrack more times than I've watched the film. Both the cinematography and the soundtrack effectively transport the viewer back to the film's romanticized version of "the past," when life was simpler and people lived slower lives, waiting for their Mr. Darcy to sweep them off their feet.

Originality. The film takes a unique approach to the story by focusing mainly on the romance between Darcy and Elizabeth and emphasizing how the natural surroundings reflect the characters' mental state/emotions (pouring rain during the first proposal and stormy skies when Elizabeth hurries home after Lydia runs away). Though one can disagree with the creative changes made, I like how this film isn't just a remake of what came before it.

Elizabeth's walks through the countryside. The film expresses her desire for freedom through her countryside walks. For instance, the Netherfield walk is shocking to Caroline Bingley because it demonstrates Elizabeth's independence.

The comedic parts are great thanks to the creative additions made. For example, the "excellent boiled potatoes" joke isn't in the book, but it perfectly exemplifies Mr. Collins' poor social skills and pretentiousness, as he tries to make an overly formal comment about an otherwise mundane dish.

2. THE CASTING

The acting is good, although I don't always agree with how the characters are portrayed.

Keira Knightley. I like how she's the right age for Elizabeth, who is around 20-21 years old; Knightley was around 19-20 when she played Elizabeth, plus she has gorgeous eyes. She perfectly conveys the pride, confidence, and biting wit of Elizabeth, as she holds her head high in an imperious manner and has a direct, piercing gaze. However, I don't like how this version chooses to simplify Elizabeth's character into that of "free-spirited nonconformist tomboy," who is a nature-lover and runs to the countryside to console herself when things get tough (ex. running to the lake after rejecting Mr. Collins). This is a contrast to the Elizabeth Bennet as presented to us in the book, who acts like a typical "lady" for the sake of her social reputation; she mostly keeps her thoughts to herself except when talking to Jane or Darcy. Elizabeth is powerful not because she rejects society outright; it is because she does not submit to societal pressure to marry and makes her own choices (ex. rejecting Mr. Collins).

Matthew Macfadyen. His Darcy is cold, aloof, and remote, yet shows signs of a rich inner life and unrequited yearning for Elizabeth as a soulmate. I like how this version shows Elizabeth peeling away his cold exterior like the layers of an onion, until his heart of gold is revealed. While I think Macfadyen is a good actor, I disagree with the interpretation of Darcy solely being a lonely introvert, as it neglects his primary character flaw of pride.

Tom Hollander's Mr. Collins. Probably the best casting, as he perfectly portrays the bumbling awkwardness of the character and is more sympathetic than the gross Mr. Collins in the 1995 BBC miniseries. He is short, has a nasally voice and officious manner that makes him annoying yet fun to watch.

Simon Woods as Mr. Bingley. He's so friendly and eager to please, like the character is in the book.

Rosamund Pike's Jane Bennet. Utterly angelic and motherly, need I say more? The perfect antidote to Elizabeth's savagery.

Rupert Friend's Mr. Wickham. Handsome and dashing in a red soldier's uniform. It's easy to see how a girl would fall for him and ignore his debauchery, but also obvious that he is deceptive. For instance, he keeps claiming that he is insignificant and unnoticed, when he basks in the attention of Elizabeth, Kitty and Lydia.

3. OVERALL CHARACTER AND PLOT DEVELOPMENT

Since this is a movie, character development is a challenge, and the film relies on changes of outward appearance/dialogue to show character growth. For instance, we get to see Darcy's change from cold and remote into warm and loving, while Elizabeth admits that "she was wrong" about Darcy and slowly comes to respect him.

The first half (beginning to Darcy's proposal) is great because it effectively introduces the audience to the cast of characters (the family, Darcy, Bingley, Caroline, Wickham, and Mr. Collins). It also contains all the comedic parts and sets up the conflicts that drive the story. Overall, this half is more faithful to the novel because it has the social satire aspects of the story and sticks to the key plot points while developing the characters.

The second half is rather lackluster compared to the first because it focuses solely on resolving the plot points introduced in the first half. This part of the book contains important events for Elizabeth's character development (getting the letter, visiting Pemberley, dealing with the fallout from Lydia's elopement), but the film rushes through them to get Elizabeth and Darcy married. Instead of focusing on how Elizabeth overcomes her prejudice of Darcy and starts to love him, the film relies on aesthetic shots of flickering candles/landscapes to serve as quick transitions between the scenes. Though we have plenty of evidence that Darcy loves Elizabeth, we don't see much evidence that the love is mutual until the second proposal, only that Elizabeth starts to see him as a friend.

Another reason I don't like the second half of the film as much as the first half is the reduced dialogue. This second half has a lot of quiet moments devoted to nature scenery/Elizabeth staring in the mirror. Reducing the dialogue, with the exception of the letter scene, doesn't make sense because the plot/action of Pride and Prejudice is furthered through the conversations the characters have (after all, wealthy Regency women likely spent much time indoors/making social calls). While one can argue that the reduced dialogue is meant to show that Elizabeth is reflecting on her mistaken prejudice, without access to Elizabeth's interior thoughts, the audience doesn't get to see Elizabeth actively confronting her false assumptions about Darcy, unlike in the book, where she says out loud to herself: "Until this moment, I never knew myself."

Notable Scenes From the First Half of the Film:

The opening scene. It sets the tone for the whole movie with the beginning shot of a field at dawn, which ties in nicely with the second proposal scene near the end. By presenting Elizabeth by herself reading a book, it communicates to the audience that Elizabeth is "not like other girls," and it shows the imperfect, yet loving family dynamics of the Bennet household.

Elizabeth roasting Darcy after he dismisses her as "tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me." During a conversation the Bennet family has with Darcy and Bingley, Mrs. Bennet commits a social gaffe when talking about Jane's many admirers and how one sent her poetry. Elizabeth saves the situation by commenting that bad poetry can kill love, and Darcy comments that he regards poetry as "the food of love" and asks how to "encourage affection." I like that the film included this little exchange from the book (although it takes place while Elizabeth is visiting a sick Jane at Netherfield, and not during the first ball), since it was skipped over in the 1995 miniseries. The best part is Elizabeth's sick burn: "Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable," which is made even better when she walks away from him with a triumphant smile on her face.

The famous Hand Flex. After Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage (by holding her hand) so she and Jane can head back home, he glances longingly at her before wringing the hand with which he touched hers. It's an important hint of his growing love for her, as well as his struggle to repress those feelings. This is a wonderful bit of character development as it reveals that Darcy has a heart.

Mr. Collins having a meal with the Bennet family. The awkwardness is palpable as Mr. Collins tries to show off his social skills and give pro tips on charming ladies. This is all topped off with this amazing comedic joke: "These are excellent boiled potatoes. Many years since I've had such an exemplary vegetable." Another brilliant bit: after Lydia cannot contain her laughter, Lizzy, after giving her father a mischievous side-eye, slaps Lydia on the back to hide her laughter. Best line besides the excellent boiled potatoes: "Believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed."

The Netherfield Ball dance between Darcy and Elizabeth. It is staged like a clash of personalities in the beginning, while the creative filming technique of separating the couple apart from the crowd of dancers foreshadows the budding relationship between them. I also like how sarcastic the dialogue is--Elizabeth is trying to win a battle of wits with Darcy but he successfully avoids her traps while reminding her that she doesn't truly know him and cannot make judgements about his personality.

Mr. Collins trying to introduce himself to Darcy. It's so comical because of the significant height difference between Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy (Collins is dwarfed by Darcy). The height difference effectively represents the significant difference in social status between the two men and makes Collins, with his pomposity, look ridiculous as he fancies himself part of the nobility but cannot properly introduce himself.

Mr. Collins' proposal--one of the funniest scenes in the movie. Mr. Collins clumsily tries to flatter Elizabeth with a tiny flower, and it gets even funnier when he so obviously misreads Elizabeth's disinterest and outright exasperation (he doesn't understand that no means no!). After Mr. Collins bends down on one knee to propose to Elizabeth, the film emphasizes Elizabeth's towering presence over Collins to show that the two are a mismatch. The fact that the proposal takes place in the messy dining room reflects Collins' view of marriage as a business matter that he wants to get done with quickly, since the location of the proposal is not very romantic.

Elizabeth roasting Darcy yet again at Rosings Park. Elizabeth eagerly recounts to Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy's impolite manners at the first ball; Darcy confesses that "I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before." I like how the nervous and quiet delivery of that line shows to the audience that Darcy is an introvert, and it shows that he's an honest person, since he abhors "disguise of every sort." The scene effectively highlights Elizabeth's prejudice towards Darcy as the audience feels pity for him when Elizabeth tells him to practice.

"This is a charming house." During this scene, Darcy visits Elizabeth while she is alone and awkwardly attempts to make conversation with her. Macfadyen is a master of body language; Darcy says little but expresses a lot (ex. the nervous fiddling with his gloves). He tries to express his feelings for Elizabeth but gives up and abruptly walks out of the room.

The first proposal. What a climactic scene (but not very faithful to the book)! The music, thunder, and rain perfectly complement the volcano of emotions that erupts when Darcy cannot repress his feelings any longer. This scene has some of the best sexual tension ever; the two get closer to each other until they almost kiss. While this scene is great to an objective viewer, I don't like that the modified dialogue changes the original meaning of this scene (more about this later).

The letter. Elizabeth has a moment of introspection when she is forced to question her judgment, and Darcy delivers his letter. I like the shot of Darcy riding farther and farther away from Elizabeth, signaling that he is becoming increasingly out of her reach.

Notable Scenes from the Second Half of the Film:

Aunt and Uncle Gardiner arrive right after Elizabeth comes back from Rosings and they take her away to a vacation. I didn't like how they were introduced too quickly; I was thinking to myself "how did they get there and where did they come from?" Luckily we are treated to more glorious shots of the English countryside (the one with them under a large oak tree is my favorite).

Visiting Pemberley. I was puzzled by why Elizabeth laughs as soon as she sees Pemberley for the first time because in the book she was in complete awe of it. Also it doesn't make sense why she would touch his expensive stuff it's not her house...or is it? The good thing is that the embarrassment the two have upon meeting each other again is definitely palpable. Georgiana is sweet, but a little less shy than she was in the book.

Darcy smiles! After introducing Georgiana to Elizabeth, he smiles for a brief time at Elizabeth, and she smiles back. It's a great moment showing how Elizabeth has drawn out his goodness, and indicates that Darcy has transformed for Elizabeth. She also starts seeing him as a friend and her prejudice against him seems to have reversed in this moment of mutual recognition.

Lydia's elopement. Keira Knightley's fake cry was off-putting. Then Darcy only talks to her for a little bit and doesn't help her much (unlike in the book, where he asked her to sit down and got her some wine to make her feel better). I don't know why the aunt and uncle are in this scene because it's very important in developing Darcy and Elizabeth's relationship. In the book, the two are alone, and Elizabeth choosing to tell Darcy about Lydia's elopement is a sign that she trusts him, while Darcy's concern for Elizabeth further confirms that he still loves her. This extremely brief scene flickers quickly, and it takes only a few seconds before Elizabeth is crying in her carriage, while the sky is dark and ominous.

Bingley rehearsing his proposal with Darcy. This added scene, which is not in the book, is so funny because of how Darcy roleplays Jane, while Bingley has so much anxiety about her not accepting him. It's a nice glimpse into their friendship and it's also funny because Bingley is getting proposal advice from someone who failed very miserably at proposing.

Sunrise on the Moors. Another objectively beautiful and romantic scene that is definitely not faithful to the book. The two meet each other in a field in their nightgowns and profess their love to each other while blessed by the rising sun.

4. MAJOR FLAWS; OR, HOW THE FILM DIVERGES FROM THE BOOK

In earlier book adaptation reviews, I stated that I welcomed creative changes as long as they reflected what was already in the book (ex. literary elements and character development) or the author's intent, since film and books are different mediums and some storytelling techniques that work in books may not work on film. This movie is undoubtedly well-known for its creative changes, especially in terms of historical setting and dialogue. While these creative changes entertain the audience, I feel that they change the meaning of the story as presented by the book.

Here's the biggest issue I have with the movie: Darcy has no pride. The film interprets his "pride" as a misconception strangers get from Darcy's cold manner and inconsiderate remarks, but in the book he is an arrogant person who views his social inferiors as beneath him and treats them poorly. In the movie, his whole character is fashioned in the modern image of the "sensitive man," who is kind and considerate if only the outside world would appreciate his uniqueness. Thus, Elizabeth's prejudice against him is entirely without merit. While making Darcy a more sympathetic person highlights how wrong Elizabeth's prejudice is, the fact is that both of them have "pride and prejudice." Some fans have commented that Darcy is like a sad puppy at times. It's hard to see how he's a good match for this Elizabeth's fiery spirit, only that he wouldn't infringe upon her freedom to roam. A lot of YouTube comments I read were people expressing their desire to "hug Darcy" or console him after Elizabeth rejects him; this doesn't make sense because Darcy is an unsympathetic character until he is forced to change in order to earn Elizabeth's love. Apart from becoming kinder to Elizabeth and the Gardiners, Darcy never really changes in the movie; he still remains a socially awkward introvert.

The re-interpretation of Pride and Prejudice as purely a romantic novel: The emphasis on romance means that the other elements of the book--the social criticism, secondary characters and the dialogue--are de-emphasized for the sake of the romance between Elizabeth and Darcy.

The film's approach to the story echoes Charlotte Bronte's criticism of the novel: "And what did I find [in Pride and Prejudice]? ... a carefully fenced, highly cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers; but no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined homes." This version of Pride and Prejudice utilizes Romantic elements not in the book (ex. the storms, the landscapes) to increase the passion that the characters feel but cannot express.

Pride and Prejudice is perceived as a "boring" book because much of the drama takes place indoors (ex. Darcy's first proposal is in Mr. Collin's home), whereas in the film, there is greater emphasis on the natural scenery in keeping with its Romantic interpretation (lots of the "open country" that Charlotte Bronte desired). While the landscape scenes are beautiful, locating the action indoors, in the grand houses of the nobility, emphasizes the repressive, tradition-based nature of Regency Era society that Austen criticized (in a subtle way). These houses reinforce social hierarchy, for instance; the interior of Rosings Park is showy and stifling because it it represents Lady Catherine De Bourgh's wealth and power over those around her. Locating most of the scenes indoors visually represents the "confined and unvarying" lives of Regency era women and makes Elizabeth Bennet's independent streak much more significant.

Some of the social constraints that Elizabeth and Darcy face are removed. For example, Elizabeth is much more direct in her criticisms of others (ex. the "barely tolerable" insult), whereas in the book she largely confines these criticisms to her intimate friends such as Jane and Charlotte Lucas. While this effectively shows how badass she is, Elizabeth likely would not have taunted Darcy in such a direct way, as it would have been considered impolite and likely harmed her social reputation in a society governed by rigid adherence to social etiquette. And of course, Darcy likely would not have been walking around the English countryside in an open-chested shirt although we may have Colin Firth's wet shirt to blame for that. The importance of following etiquette rules is shown when Darcy offends the whole village by refusing to dance with anyone during the first ball. As a woman in a patriarchal society, it would have been even more important for Elizabeth to follow the rules, as her social reputation was important to her chances of making a good marriage. By de-emphasizing the rigid social norms that govern the characters, the obstacles to Elizabeth and Darcy's marriage are less significant, and it seems that the only thing standing in the way of their being together is Elizabeth's unreasonable hatred of Darcy.

Also, in many of Austen's novels, the hometowns of her heroines and its inhabitants are their own characters; the power of gossip in determining one's social reputation for the "marriage market" is de-emphasized in the film. In Pride and Prejudice, a major reason Elizabeth doesn't discover Wickham's bad character at first is because of the "general approbation of the neighborhood" and social popularity he has in Hertfordshire. After Lydia elopes, the family is in a bad situation with regards to marriage prospects because the village had "generally proved [the Bennets] to be marked out for misfortune." In the film, the role of the village is relegated to that of a place for entertainment and nothing more.

Others have noted that the film also exaggerates the social divide between Elizabeth and Darcy by turning the Bennet family into peasant farm-owners who have messy hair and wear plain, homespun clothing. This justifies Darcy's social prejudice against the Bennets, which undercuts Austen's message of morals, actions, and treatment of others being a better indicator of character than class rank (the rich people in this book, with the exception of Darcy, Georgiana and Bingley, are shown to be lazy or plain ridiculous). While Darcy may be richer than Elizabeth, and have better connections, they are both members of the gentry--after all, they do not have to work to maintain their lifestyles. Instead, we are presented with a conventional rags-to-riches story, where our poor but virtuous heroine is rewarded with a rich Prince Charming who takes her away from the squalor of her home to his great big palace.

Ultimately, the story is changed into an argument for love, specifically the passionate kind, triumphing over all; Elizabeth overcomes her hatred of men as "humorless poppycocks" to be with Darcy. Near the end, Mary reads out of a book claiming that a lady should give in to her passions and surrender to love, which doesn't make sense as the marriage based entirely on passion (Lydia and Wickham) is shown to be less than ideal.

While Austen does believe in following one's heart (ex. Persuasion, where Anne Elliot regrets rejecting Captain Wentworth because of his lower social status), others have commented that she presents the ideal relationship as a balance between mind and heart. Charlotte's practical marriage to Mr. Collins represents the traditional view of marriage as an "economic proposition," it is entirely logical and calculated, whereas Lydia and Wickham's marriage is the other emotional extreme, motivated entirely by sexual infatuation. Before Elizabeth acknowledges her love for Darcy, she must respect him as her intellectual equal. Here's the passage from the book where Elizabeth realizes she loves Darcy: "She now began to comprehend that he was exactly the man, who in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance." Elizabeth's decision to marry Darcy is not only a result of her heart's desire, but it comes after she does some thinking and concludes they are compatible and would be able to live with each other on a day-to-day basis.

Something else I find ironic is the director's (Joe Wright's) claim that he aimed for realism in the film, given that Austen already depicted Regency era life realistically by focusing on social norms, class, and wealth:

The director, in his quest for "realism," features the messy environment of the Bennet household, which doesn't make sense given that they are still relatively wealthy (when defending herself, Elizabeth tells Lady Catherine that she is "a gentleman's daughter"). Also, they have servants to clean things up, so why would the house be in a constant state of disarray?

Lastly, how is the second proposal scene is "realistic?" It is a moment of "psychic communication" between Darcy and Elizabeth which is out of character for the book. They both "can't sleep" and walked, in the words of Wikipedia, "across the moors" to see each other ok this seriously reminds me of Wuthering Heights. The scene is powerful because every woman wants to be told that "you have bewitched me body and soul" but "realistically," this doesn't happen (and this line isn't in the book either).

"REALISM" IS THE REASON WHY WE FUSS OVER HISTORICAL ACCURACY!!! HISTORICAL ACCURACY ALLOWS PERIOD DRAMAS TO BE REALISTIC!!!!

If the characters wore historically accurate clothing (different from the loosely inspired, modernized dresses/hair in the film), it would have emphasized the lack of freedom women had in Regency Era society and reinforced the importance of following social norms to succeed in a patriarchal society.

Bad Script Changes:

This film is known for its modernized script, which makes it easier for a mainstream audience to watch the movie. However, it also changes depictions of the characters in ways that undercut the meaning of the book.

Elizabeth Bennet, man-hater:

"Oh, they [men] are far too easy to judge. Humorless poppycocks, in my limited experience."

"And which of the painted peacocks is Mr. Bingley?"

"Men are either eaten up with arrogance or stupidity. And if they're amiable they're so easily led that they have no minds of their own whatsoever...No, they bring nothing but heartache."

I know these snarky comments are fun and reinforce the modern perception of Elizabeth Bennet as a feminist heroine. However, book Elizabeth doesn't rail against men as a whole; she just wants to find love rather than be forced into an advantageous marriage. Her idea that marriage should be based on love and respect, along with her unwillingness to compromise on that ideal, is what makes her revolutionary, not her complete apathy towards the opposite sex.

"Don't you dare judge me!" While it foreshadows Elizabeth's flawed judgment, this outburst is out of character for Charlotte Lucas, who in the book is level-headed and makes practical decisions. As with the majority of the bad script changes, it is too modern and doesn't fit with the 19th century style language used elsewhere in the script.

Darcy's lack of pride is shown in the modified lines of the first proposal (which were hard to catch because they were spoken super fast):

"I can bear it no longer. The past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you. I've fought against my better judgment, my family's expectation, the inferiority of your birth, my rank and circumstance, all those things, but I'm willing to put them aside and ask you to end my agony. I love you. Most ardently."

These lines completely change the meaning of the first proposal. Apart from the famous opening lines ("In vain I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you"), Austen makes clear that Darcy still regards his higher social position and Elizabeth's inferior connections as obstacles to their marriage. His first proposal to Elizabeth is a means of getting rid of the suffering that his unrequited love has forced upon him; he still does not accept Elizabeth as his equal, which is why she rejects him in the first place. Clearly he is not "willing to put [social norms] aside" when it comes to "his sense of her inferiority." The modified lines also make Darcy much more romantic by having him state that he came to Rosings to see Elizabeth; the book does not specify that this is the case; he just came on a routine visit to see his aunt and Elizabeth happened to be there. As I said earlier, Elizabeth in the book rejects Darcy because of his lack of respect for her, but in the film, he seems to show nothing but respect for her. They even have an almost-kiss, which doesn't make sense given that she hates him so intensely at this point in the novel.

"He's so, he's so...rich." Elizabeth utters these when trying and failing to find a reason not to visit Pemberley. This declaration does not make sense because Elizabeth has formed in the very least a grudging respect for Mr. Darcy; without access to her internal thoughts, one might take this line as evidence that she still hates Mr. Darcy.

“Just leave me alone!!!” After confronting Lady Catherine, Elizabeth flees to her room to find some alone time. This doesn’t suit Elizabeth’s character because 1) she acts like a temperamental teenager and 2) she is estranged from her family. In the book she gets closer to her family after Darcy’s first proposal, not the other way round. In some JASNA (Jane Austen Society of North America) articles I read about Pride and Prejudice, the authors observed that Elizabeth isn’t concerned about her family early in the novel; her motivations are largely self-centered, she keeps her head above their foolishness and doesn’t have intimate relationships with anyone in her family with the exception of her father and Jane. Only after she receives the criticisms of her family’s behavior from Mr. Darcy does she look out for her family; for example, by advising her father not to let Lydia go to Brighton (and she becomes right about it harming her family’s reputation). The film also makes Elizabeth even more isolated from her family by omitting the fact that she tells Jane about what happened between her and Darcy. Elizabeth learning to care for her family is an important part of her growth which the film omits.

5. CONCLUSION

I still think this film is worth watching, even though as a purist I disagree with the creative changes made, namely the emphasis on the romance over the social comedy. It is obvious that the screenwriter/director didn't strive to replicate the book exactly and aimed for a romantic re-interpretation.

The film has had a positive impact since it introduced a lot of people to Jane Austen, including me.

Here’s my story: when the movie aired on TV, my mother, who is a 1995 die-hard, started ranting about her hate for this version, so I picked up the book so that I could watch and compare.

As a romance movie it is excellent, because it has plenty of sexual tension and quotable romantic lines, along with a couple we can root for. The set design, music, and set design also make watching the movie an experience. It's very easy to love this movie just for the cottage core aesthetics (although aesthetics cannot cover up the flaws of this film).

On a side note, I find it funny that the Wikipedia article for this film states that it "failed to have the cultural influence" of the 1995 BBC miniseries. In fact, many people my age (17 or 18 years old) who have read the book consider this movie the definitive version of Pride and Prejudice and some don't even know that the 1995 miniseries exists!

Whether you love or hate this film, all I ask is that you don't call it Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

@colonelfitzwilliams @appleinducedsleep @obscurelittlebird @austengivesmeserotonin @princesssarisa @dahlia-coccinea @firawren @cobaltzosia

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ofna · 4 years ago

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Idk if this is spoilery or not, but I was wondering... How do the ROs see themselves and how do they think other people see them? How would they like others to see them? I hope it makes sense lol! I just tought it would de really interesting to know, even if it's just like a brief idea! Also I'm really in love with this game, the plot is so intriguing and I need me some birb LORE!!! Anyway, take care of yourself, you're awesome, tysm for making this IF! 🤗

Thanks for the ask and the kind words <3 This is such an interesting question, I had to think about it for awhile!

Simon/Simone: Would like to be seen as witty, tough, and hard to predict. Sees themselves a bit differently, more serious, more thoughtful. But recognizes that they’re a bit of a mess inside and make bad, impulsive decisions.

Bea/Beau: Would like to be seen as calm, smart, and a bit mysterious in an interesting way. Actually sees themselves as awkward and estranged from other people. Feels like they don’t really fit in anywhere.

Jeremy: Would like people to see him as interesting, worldly, charismatic. He mostly sees himself that way, or he would like to think he does, but sometimes other things slip through.

Natasha: Thinks she’s seen as aloof, materialistic, cold, and a bit conceited. Sees herself as clever, loyal, and someone who does what they need to in order to survive. She knows she is consistently underestimated and written off, and it’s something she uses to her advantage but has also come to resent.

Elliot: Claims he doesn’t care how others see him and that he thinks most of them are idiots anyway. Sees himself as smart, independent, and as someone who works harder than others. Has a tiny bit of superiority complex.

#OFNA #asks #anon asks #ROs #simon(e)#bea(u)#jeremy #natasha #elliot

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kittyplushy · 2 months ago

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Oh oh my, part 2(!). No one keeps photos of me.

Lest they're hidden in the crevices of one's mind.

"Do you think Cinderella left her shoe on purpose?"

We were on the floor one night, listening to movie soundtracks on the turn table. Julianne came home from the city splurging on a few records- The Muppet Movie, Simon & Garfunkle, and Cinderella. She bragged about finding them in a charity shop near the bus stop. After placing on our music for the night, she spread out her collection of storybooks, looking at the illuminated illustrations in awe. Her eyes fixated on the scene if the princess dropping her glass slipper. I wasn't particularly paying full attention, half-asleep reading through a page of another bedtime story. I looked up and quietly asked to repeat what she said.

"I dunno. Did Cinderella leave her glass slipper behind on purpose?"

"Why do you think she'd do that?" I tried indulging in her curiosity.

"Well, glass slipper may be a mistranslation since it might have been just another shoe standard for women in nobility at balls..but that's her only defining feature, right? If the shoe fits..and..why else would the fairy godmother make it glass?"

"Was she hoping that what the prince did next, he'll follow through on?" My body was shutting down from the fatigue. I pushed aside the books to at least lay half my head on her lap. She pulled me closer to allow more space.

"Yeah, I guess. An SOS Call." She concludes, finally satisfied, "Please. Do something."

Do something.

We've only been together for four months. The interlude of sweet nothings, cuddles, affectionate glances and stares carried past the expected lifetime of what most would call the Honeymoon stage. It's been smooth sailing so far although we've both agreed somewhere we'd cross uncharted waters. These days though, neither of us want to take the rose colored glasses off first. I have brought my fingers to the frames, but never pulled away.

Julianne has only started to openly communicate her wants. She was aloof and submissive to requests at the beginning out of fear of going out of line, but after some reassurance that she could also boss me around, she started to have the voice to annoy me, play with me, or tell me all the thoughts she could entertain in a minute.

I might have put her into a corner though. A few weeks ago, she asled me if I had any photos of myself I could spare. A discomfort from years ago crept back into my consciousness, almost screaming down a firm No. No, I still don't want any other images of me circulating around. But it was like I lost some form of trust in Julianne. She fidgets with the empty locket, saying she'll place a flower or a magician inside.

Part of me still hopes that she hopes I'll say Yes.

Then something happens. Cinderella leaves her glass slipper at the ball.

I found the locket under the couch yesterday before heading out for my scheduled city trip. I contemplated just driving past the apartment to drop it off, but like the prince, I couldn't help but feel almost obligated to return it the way she would have wanted me to.

So for an afternoon, the locket stays in my pocket, burning at the side of my chest like a constant reminder of what I should be doing. What else I could be doing..

The photographer comments again on how red I'm getting.

"Summer is right around the corner, isn't it? Sorry my air conditioning broke." The bunny boy adjusts the lenses on the camera again.

"It's all good. So sorry this is taking us a bit longer."

"This for work?" He figures out a way to make me look at least decent with a few more blinding lights.

"Paperwork. I need to renew a few things."

He instructs me for the 3rd time to look at the camera and after those awkward 20 minutes, I gave up and settled to use the image fron this take. The boy took the necklace, fitting the image into the heart frame neatly in a swift moment. He chuckles to himself knowing where it's going. I just stared at myself in the little trinket wondering why she'd choose to look at me like that.

I think my job here is done though. The jealous cloud hovering over me suddenly dissipated. It was already feeling good reassuring myself I'm what was in this metal box. The next morning, I spotted her on the way to the elememtary. She was tracing her neck and chest, outling where the locket used to be.

"Julianne?"

She snaps out of the repeated motion. She realizes it might've looked like a repeating Sign of The Cross. She tilts her head.

"Good morning. Just goin' to work."

"Before you do that, I have something here you forgot the last time you slept over..."

The prince presents the peasant a familiar present.

"Oh! You found it! Thank you..hm.." Her fingers feel inside the shell and she realizes sonething is inside the little frame already.

"Don't get so loud about it, I did say I don't do photos of myself anymore.." I attempted to contain whatever excited reaction could burst. Still, her grin widened as she squealed. I put a finger between her lips.

"It's 8 am, Cake. Don't you have a class to attend to now?"

She immediately got back on her feet, nodding and rushing off the street to get to work on time. She waves me goodbye and scurries away, already looking into the heart frames.

I had never felt obligated to do something so burdensome and vulnerable. I don't want that photo contaminating into other frames or other albums.

But for a second I might've understood why Cinderella purposefully left her shoe at the ball.

Why do you look at me like that?

Total disappearance from this world. Another minific.

Despite having so much of everything, Julianne consistently wears one peculiar accessory. On her chest is a heart shaped shell. It opens to reveal the bear's blurred reflection, framed by a heart ouline one is supposed to slip a photo into. Sam carefully clicks the locket close and lets it slip off her hand to not wake the sleeping feline.

Should she be mad that she wasn't in it? Was Julianne going to put a photo of someone, something else? Well of course Julianne is still going to find a way to put her likeliness in it. But of course you just had to outright reject the offer to be immortalized in a meaningful way.

When Samantha dies, so will her family and their legacy. The grip of fear the Strong family held ob the town slowly thawed out in each passing generation. People began to forget what it was they did or if they could ever be trusted. Some people held on to their prejudices and for this reason, a muzzle was put on every family member to contain them- behave them to prevent any more scrutiny. But it wasn't just muzzles. There were whips. Chains. Collars. Cages. That obsession to transition into prey held power in her already lost mind. She broke the unspoken pact of being good and now that she did: there was no other option left than to die herself. To avoid getting caught or remembered, she employed a no photos rule. Minimal photographs. No press images. Not even more than the necessary IDs. One day these will crinkle and degrade and her existence might just be a footnote in the town's expansive history.

Other than that, the thought of being looked at sickened her. Number two reason for having a no photos rule? Nigel fucking Albright. He had everything. Every moment she had alone. Every sight of skin and fur, every moment of peace all in the palm of his hand. She imagines what he might have done looking at them then wishes she could shoot him in the face again. Again abd again.

No one should be able to look at her that way. With adoration and obsession.

Though it'd be unfair to call what Julianne has in her heart obsession. Julianne barely makes eye contact. She has difficulty looking at people in the eyes. She wanders and only focuses on a person when they aren't looking her way. Sam had caught her staring at her longingly before and after they had gotten together. At first she swore she was going to firmly tell her to not do that. But she forgets the first few times, and then she just accepts it. It was a different flavor of staring, perhaps. It was laced with adoration and longing.

What could you be longing for?

Her head is tilted when she stares. Sometimes she slowly blinks and looks away momentarily. Suddenly it feels as if it were fine if someone was to look at her that way. Closing your eyes to forget for a second her existence, closing her eyes to forget what she looked like only to open and remember.

Whatever it was, Julianne looked at her and asked if she could have a small photo of her. An ID photo, maybe.

"No. I don't really feel comfortable having my photos taken. I don't want anything about me circulated around."

Julianne frowned.

The next day, Julianne wore a silver heart locket reminiscent of the one from Annie. There was nothing inside it. Sam figured that she might ask again for a photo but this time, she just said she'll be looking for photos of Roy G. Biv the magician to go along with it.

Something about that made her weirdly jealous.

Thinking of how the photo would lay in Julianne's hands, it's a lot more sincere...the photo is kept in a locket. It is closed for majority of the time its worn. But secretly when no one is looking, she'll open the locket and stare. Stare with the same adoration and longing.

Pure. It sounded so pure. Maybe she was mythifying her, but Julianne had proven to just be so..careful. She wouldn't do the same sins, right?

But it's too late to take back the offer.

#house guest 🐈🐻#self shipping #self ship #yumejoshi #oc x canon #safe shipping #safe ship #self insert

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immortalled · 4 years ago

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Live reactions to S3E5 of Misfits below because... I dunno, slapping it all under a cut is probably less annoying lol. :’>

- Is it bad that the opening scene made me think of Jamie? Jamie and Seth look like that could’ve been buds. Like a biker gang or something.

- I find it really interesting that Kelly, even with a guy like Seth, is still putting up walls and giving him the aloof act. I appreciate the consistency (rare in Misfits lol) but aw man, it is kinda sad, isn’t it? I get it, though. Poor thing. I think Seth/Kelly is a little left field but I do hope she has a happy ending with this one. Kelly deserves happiness and so does Seth.

- I keep telling myself not to compare Rudy and Nathan but omg... the little awkward lean against the support beam... Nathan does that when Simon catches him and Alisha spying on him. And then the two condom thing... I know I’m being ridiculous here and they aren’t the same character at all, but I’m gonna have to make a parallels gif set. I just know it. I can feel it. It has to happen. It was awkward at first because I missed Nathan, but the more I see of Rudy, the more I like him. He’s grown on me.

- I feel like production value went way up during this season.

- EXCUSE ME??? WHO??? TELLS THEIR GIRLFRIEND, WHO IS IN A COMA, THAT YOU’RE LEAVING THEM? YO, DUDE, I KNOW IT’S HARD TO SEE HER LIKE THAT BUT C’MON. You!! Don’t know!!!!!!! That she can’t hear you!!!!!! Maybe she can!! YOU CAN’T! oml

- I like how Kelly’s first response to seeing a patient in trouble is to calmly and slowly walk into the room to ask them if they’re okay (when they clearly can’t speak because even if they weren’t in a coma, they do have a tube down their throat) instead of immediately finding a nurse or pressing the alert button.

- Wait this hurts.

- LOL I... really love how Simon just deals with Rudy’s weird stories. That’s cute.

- O h? Is that grafitti some Bad Wolf-esque foreshadowing? 👀

- Wow. Lauren Socha is such a good actress??? What the heck. I’m gonna have to watch her in something else. I need to know if she has range.

- ...This isn’t mean, I love Kelly’s shape, but there’s no way Kelly can fit in Jen’s clothes.

- Not a fan of this weird tension that happens occasionally between Curtis and Simon. I think it’s IC for Simon to be a little jealous, I like that he still has his insecurities, but it’s a little annoying when it’s directed toward Curtis. I dunno. I guess it’s fair given that he’s the ex, but I don’t like it.

- Kelly looks great in a leather jacket.

- OOOH gosh. Sometimes, man... sometimes Simon gives this look and does this thing with his body language that’s just SO scary.

- ...As much as I dislike Curtis’ power, I think Alisha’s has to be my least favorite of the new powers. I wish Simon would use his foresight more, too.

- Something about Simon watching Freaky Friday is really funny to me.

- How many times are these idiots gonna have to sneak out bodies. They’re professionals at this point.

- Bahahaha Shaun is so nonchalant. Random coma patient in the communtiy centre? Just another day. I love him.

- WAIT NO SHAUN NO WAIT NO!!!

- NO?????????????????????????????????? NO?? NO!

- I’m not gonna think about the legal issues with what’s-his-face pulling the plug instead of a nurse. Or like... how they’re gonna explain that Jen’s body is there at the community centre. Or how the gang is gonna get away with security footage of them stealing a body from the hospital (which there would have to be, there’s no way they didn’t get caught on camera). I can’t go full clown. This is Misfits. 🤡

- Also I totally thought they were going to grab an animal or something off the street and then give it to the boyfriend or parents or something to take care of so Jen could live on at least for a while longer as something else than die. I don’t know why I thought that. It just felt like it’d be on brand. Don’t @ me LOL. (I’m glad I was wrong; I think it’s a much nobler end for Jen to own up to what she did and have her goodbye.)

- That is totally some Bad Wolf-esque forshadowing. And clearly slapped on in post!

Final thoughts:

Not a bad episode. I liked it well enough. It was entertaining and this one got a few laughs (for some reason Seth saying “Hi” and Rudy going feral at him got me). I don’t have too much to say about it, really, it’s a pretty standard episode. So far I think Peter’s episode is still my favorite just for the more superhero-y hijinks, but this ep had some really nice protective Simon moments and I really enjoyed Seth. The music was pretty good, but the Misfits soundtrack is always killer.

I hate that my only big note is a complaint, but... I’m finding it really hard to connect with the characters this season, even the OGs. I get bursts of it, primarily with Simon and Rudy, but overall something just feels wrong. No one except maybe Curtis feels OOC and yet? Something about the characters is off. It feels like I’m looking at an alternate universe where everything is the same except for some itty bitty detail and I can’t place what it is. And before anyone says it, no it’s not because Nathan isn’t there lol. He was the heart of the series for me, but I don’t think his absence is what feels wrong. It’s definitely something about the writing or within the remaining characters themselves.

I? Almost want to say that it’s an issue of the gang not feeling like a family anymore? They don’t feel as close. I know Misfits has always primarily been about hijinks and outrageous plots, but I almost wanna say that S1 and S2 had more focus on character relationships than S3 so far? We get a little more into the nitty gritty of Alisha’s relationships with Simon, Rudy, and Curtis (even though her “problem” with Curtis in E2 made no sense) but besides that... it just doesn’t feel like we’re getting the meat that we did in S1 and 2. Granted, that is two seasons versus one.

Oh yeah. And RIP Shaun. I knew he was gonna die but I didn’t expect it so soon. That sucks. I think that his death would have been sadder if the show hadn’t exposed his grosser aspects, like how he creeps on girls and... he’s just kind of a skeevy perv. Which, I know most of the male characters in this show are perverts to some degree, but it works better for everyone else because they have some redeeming qualities that make them more endearing and their faults more palatable. Shaun doesn’t quite have the endearment factor to pad out how uncomfortable he was in E2 and E4 (making him into a villain for E4 was a bad move too). I think if he had shown just a hint of really caring about the gang, even privately, then maybe I’d be sadder. Oh well. He’s still the best probation worker. I’ll miss him.

Anyway, anyway. Enough complaining. One last good thing: Rudy continues to grow on me. I am so intrigued by how he handles his split (how his splits handle each other?). I feel like I need to come up with a better term. But that’ll do for now. I really, really hope that Overman doesn’t just sweep all those issues under the rug. It seems like he did that with Rudy and Alisha’s relationship (which is a bummer!) and I think it’d be so cool for Rudy to either find peace with that inner conflict or at least be able to better cope with Rudy One and Rudy Too so they’re not always squabbling. Love Rudy, though. Him and Nathan would’ve butted heads to be the funny one, I think, but good friends after a while. Oh, the terror those two could have caused...

#out of immortality [ooc];#spark watches misfits [liveblogging];

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aesthetic-uwus · 5 years ago

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Movies/tvshow recommendations

1. Scott pilgrim (2010)

As bass guitarist for a garage‑rock band, Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) has never had trouble getting a girlfriend; usually, the problem is getting rid of them. As Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) skates into his heart

2. Growing op (2008)

A teenager tries to live a normal life while his parents run an operation growing weed out of their home

3. 10 things I hate about you (1999)

Kat Stratford (Julia Stiles) is beautiful, smart and quite abrasive to most of her fellow teens, meaning that she doesn't attract many boys. Unfortunately for her younger sister, Bianca (Larisa Oleynik), house rules say that she can't date until Kat has a boyfriend

4. Juno (2007)

When precocious teen Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) becomes pregnant, she chooses a failed rock star and his wife (Jennifer Garner) to adopt her unborn child. Complications occur

5. Easy A (2010)

Prompted by her popular best friend to spill details of her boring weekend, Olive (Emma Stone), a clean‑cut teen, decides to spice things up by telling a little lie about losing her virginity. When the high‑school busybody (Amanda Bynes) overhears the conversation...

6. Warehouse 13 (2009-2014)

Plot. The series follows U.S. Secret Service Agents Myka Bering (Joanne Kelly) and Pete Lattimer (Eddie McClintock) when they are assigned to the secretive Warehouse 13 for supernatural artifacts. It is located in a barren landscape in South Dakota, and they initially regard the assignment as punishment.

7. ferris buellers day off (1986)

Ferris Bueller (Matthew Broderick) has an uncanny skill at cutting classes and getting away with it. Intending to make one last duck‑out before graduation, Ferris calls in sick, "borrows" a Ferrari, and embarks on a one‑day journey through the streets of Chicago.

8. Perks of being a wallflower (2012)

Socially awkward teen Charlie (Logan Lerman) is a wallflower, always watching life from the sidelines, until two charismatic students become his mentors. Free‑spirited Sam (Emma Watson) and her stepbrother Patrick (Ezra Miller) while overcoming the problem from his past

9. Sex education (2019-?)

Socially awkward high school student Otis may not have much experience in the lovemaking department, but he gets good guidance on the topic in his personal sex ed course -- living with mom Jean, who is a sex therapist. Being surrounded by manuals, videos and tediously open conversations about sex

10. Anne with an E (2017-?)

In the late 19th century, brother and sister Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, both past their prime, decide to take on an orphan boy to help out around their ancestral farm of Green Gables, on the outskirts of the town of Avonlea, on Prince Edward Island.

11. Santa Clarita diet (2017-2019)

Joel and Sheila Hammond are everyday suburban real estate agents in Santa Clarita, California. The couple face a series of obstacles when Sheila undergoes a metamorphosis, becomes undead and starts craving human flesh.

12. Atypical (2017-?)

This heartfelt comedy follows Sam, a teenager on the autism spectrum, who has decided he is ready for romance. In order to start dating -- and hopefully find love -- Sam will need to be more independent, which also sends his mother (Jennifer Jason Leigh) on her own life-changing path.

13. That 70s show (1998-2006)

A comedy revolving around a group of teenage friends, their mishaps, and their coming of age, set in 1970s Wisconsin. Eric Forman is a typical high school student growing up in Wisconsin in 1976 with his family and his friends. ... The head of the group is Eric Forman who lives under the authority of parents Red and Kitty.

14. Tuca and Bertie (2019)

Premise. Tuca & Bertie follows "the friendship between two 30-year-old bird-women who live in the same apartment building, Tuca, a cocky, care-free toucan, and Bertie, an anxious, daydreaming songbird."

15. The end of the fucking world (2017-2019?)

James (Alex Lawther), a 17-year-old who believes himself to be a psychopath, and Alyssa (Jessica Barden), a rebellious classmate who sees in James a chance to escape from her tumultuous home life. ...

16 Derry girls (2018-?)

Derry Girls is a Northern Irish sitcom created by Lisa McGee. Set in 1990s Derry, Northern Ireland the show follows five teens as they live through political conflict while going through the challenges of being teenagers.

17. Grease (1978)

Plot. In the summer of 1958, local boy Danny Zuko and vacationing Sandy Olsson meet at the beach and fall in love. When the summer comes to an end, Sandy—who is going back to Australia—frets that they may never meet again, but Danny tells her that their love is "only the beginning"

18. Love simon (2018)

Everyone deserves a great love story, but for 17‑year‑old Simon Spier, it's a little more complicated. He hasn't told his family or friends that he's gay, and he doesn't know the identity of the anonymous classmate that he's fallen for online. Resolving both issues proves hilarious, terrifying

19. Legally blond (2001)

Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) has it all. She wants nothing more than to be Mrs. Warner Huntington III. But there is one thing stopping him (Matthew Davis) from proposing: She is too blond. Elle rallies all of her resources and gets into Harvard, determined to win

20. Legally blonde 2 (2003)

Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) journeys to Washington, D.C., to have her say about animal rights, but is ignored by every politician she encounters and quickly learns that the White House can be even tougher to navigate than the Ivy League

21. shameless us (2011-?)

Shameless is the story of a family of six kids and their drunk and selfish father. The eldest daughter Fiona has to raise the rest of the family on her own. They need to steal food and steal money to live while their father takes everything and offers nothing. Meet the fabulously dysfunctional Gallagher family.

22. Dead like me (2003)

Georgia Lass is aloof and emotionally distant from her family and shies away from her life. After dropping out of college, she takes a temp job through Happy Time Temporary Services. During her lunch break on her first day, she is hit and killed by a toilet seat falling from the deorbiting Mir space station.

23. Daria (1997-2002)

A smart and cynical girl goes through teenage life as a proud outsider in a world of mainly idiotic adolescents and condescending adults. Daria Morgendorffer is an intelligent, unpopular, and quite sarcastic teenager tolerating life among the idiots at Lawndale High.

24. IT (2017)

Seven young outcasts in Derry, Maine, are about to face their worst nightmare ‑‑ an ancient, shape‑shifting evil that emerges from the sewer every 27 years to prey on the town's children. Banding together over the course of one horrifying summer

25. IT chapter 2 (2019)

Defeated by members of the Losers' Club, the evil clown Pennywise returns 27 years later to terrorize the town of Derry, Maine, once again. Now adults, the childhood friends have long since gone their separate ways. But then people start disappearing....

26. Stranger things (2016-?)

A young boy, Will Byers, goes missing near a top-secret government laboratory. On the same night, a strange young girl appears at a diner in the town. ... A love letter to the '80s classics that captivated a generation, 'Stranger things' is set in 1983 Indiana, where a young boy vanishes into thin air.

27. Ginger snaps (2000)

The story of two outcast sisters, Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) and Brigitte (Emily Perkins), in the mindless suburban town of Bailey Downs. On the night of Ginger's first period, she is savagely attacked by a wild creature. Ginger's wounds miraculously heal

28. Arrietty (2010)

Arrietty, a tiny teenager, lives with her parents in the recesses of a suburban home, unbeknown to the homeowner and housekeeper. Like others of her kind, Arrietty remains hidden from her human hosts, but occasionally ventures forth

29. F is for family (2015-?)

Set in the 1970s, this animated raunchy comedy is inspired by the life of stand-up comic Bill Burr, who is a co-creator and executive producer of the series. Burr also voices the character of Frank Murphy, a short-tempered veteran who lives in the suburbs with his wife, Sue (Laura Dern) and their three children

#movies #television #recommend #ferris bueller's day off #derry girls #10 things i hate about you #daria #scott pilgrim #easy a #legally blonde #ginger snaps

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spin-birdie · 4 years ago

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corpse party...ace attorney.....oh no

this is what i mean when i say i do not control the special interest. my dumb little brain refuses to let me stop thinking about “ace attorney, but make it a high school au and then put everyone in heavenly host”

more info under the cut because i made character bios and its. A Lot

everyone has their japanese names because it made more sense for the setting and i wanted an excuse to memorise everyones japanese names, anyway heres wonderwall

Ryuuichi Naruhodou [A 17-year-old student in Hoshikage Senior High class 2-4. Fairly average, but lucky. His relaxed and personable attitude lets him connect with people easily. Known for his exceptional loyalty, he rarely backs down from anything once he’s committed to it. This is easily his greatest strength, but also his biggest weakness. He has a sardonic streak, though he mostly keeps it to himself, rarely showing it to even his closest friends.]

Masashi Yahari [A 17-year-old student in Hoshikage High class 2-4. Most see him as a naive, relatively useless young man, including himself. He’s infamous for running his mouth and acting without thinking in most situations, no matter the consequences. The amount of trouble this has landed him in over the years has resulted in a common saying at Hoshikage High - “when something happens, of course it’s Yahari.” For all his quirks, however, he’s still a caring friend, especially to Ryuuichi and Reiji.]

Reiji Mitsurugi [A 17-year-old student in Hoshikage Senior High class 2-4, and a friend of Ryuuichi and Masashi since elementary school. He has a sibling-like bond with Mei, and more than a few of her mannerisms have rubbed off on him. He often comes across as snobbish and aloof to strangers when, in fact, he’s just insecure and awkward. He does care immensely for his friends, even if he’s reluctant to admit it. A traumatic event in his childhood left him with a fear of earthquakes. He goes to great lengths to hide this, however, viewing it as a shameful weakness.]

Mayoi Ayasato [The 16-year-old appointed class president of Hoshikage Senior High class 2-4. She frequently jokes that she’s practically Ryuuichi’s annoying big sister, despite being younger than him. An excitable girl, she’s infamous for her ‘act first, think later’ attitude. This impulsive curiosity has given her a troublemaker’s reputation, winding up in detention a bit more often than she truly deserves. She has a strong passion for the occult, and revels in telling ghost stories to her peers, which she insists are true. She appears simple and naive, but in times of strife she can be tenacious, selfless, and deceptively wise.]

Harumi Ayasato [Mayoi’s 14-year-old cousin and a student in Hoshikage Junior High class 2-2. Somehow looks much tinier than she actually is and quiet around strangers, she doesn’t really stand out from the crowd. Nonetheless, her friends know her as cheerful, kind and polite, brightening up a room whenever she comes out of her shell. She looks up to Mayoi a great deal, hoping to be like her one day and occasionally mimicking her, which sometimes gets her in trouble. She can usually be found with her nose in a book, and she hopes to write novels of her own one day.]

Mei Karuma [A 16-year-old student in Hoshikage Senior High class 2-4. A strict upbringing has made her viciously competitive, constantly striving to be better than perfect at everything. She’s widely regarded as arrogant and headstrong, speaking to everyone but teachers and her closest relatives as if they’re somehow beneath her. Her own short temper is easily her biggest obstacle - she’s been known to physically attack people when upset, disguising any signs of weakness as rage. Her aggressive tendencies paint her as something of a delinquent in the eyes of the faculty, in spite of her perfect grades. She’s very protective of Mayoi, though how they came to be friends is anyone’s guess.]

Housuke Odoroki [A 16-year-old student in Hoshikage Senior High class 2-4. Goes to great lengths to be taken seriously, but the results are often mixed. He wants to be the rational, level-headed one when facing his problems, but he’s constantly fighting his own short temper and sarcastic nature to do so. He practices shouting for hours at night, both to strengthen his voice and psyche himself up, to the chagrin of his sister, Minuki. Unfortunately due to familial circumstances, this was Housuke’s last day at Hoshikage High. Him and his family will be moving away shortly, and he’ll be transferring to another school.]

Minuki Nanafushi [A 13-year-old student in Hoshikage Junior High class 2-2. Housuke’s half-sister, and Harumi’s best friend. She’s bright, energetic, and very naive. Underneath all this, she’s very perceptive and intelligent, often the first in her class to finish projects and puzzles. She holds up well under pressure - a skill that comes in handy given her penchant for stage magic, which she learned from her birth father. Like Housuke, this was her last day at Hoshikage High. She intended to sleep over at Harumi’s house one last time tonight.]

Daichi Aoi [A 16-year-old student in Hoshikage High class 2-4. Accepts anyone and everyone with open arms, offering motivation and a shoulder to cry on to anyone who needs it. His optimism and positive attitude have made him immensely popular among his fellow students. He considers this a way of paying it forward - when his mother passed away in middle school, Housuke was the one who supported him through his grief. They’ve been best friends ever since, the two of them frequently discussing their dreams for the future.]

the main idea was just “maya finds the sachiko ever after charm and then things go terribly terribly wrong” but aside from a couple of character parallels i dont have much for this as an au

well aside from these

Themis Academy Kokone Kizuki (Athena) Shinobu Morizumi (Juniper) Chishio Atsui (Robin) Rei Shizuya (Hugh) Jin Yuugami (Simon)

Kagesho High School Shingo Outorou (Matt) [kizami parallel goes brrrrr] Isao Fujimino (Juan) Yurie Amano (Celeste) Kirio Kamiya (Adrian) Saburou Niboshi (Will) Takeshi Ibukuro (Jack)

if i elaborate on this itll either be in another post or ill just make a google doc with all my dumb little thoughts and post it somewhere

#corpse party #ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #phoenix wright #larry butz #miles edgeworth #maya fey #pearl fey #franziska von karma #apollo justice #trucy wright #clay terran #aa corpse party au #original

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maiaisbia · 5 years ago

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if you love me (don't let go)

Raphael knew flowers were important to seelies. But could there be a deeper meaning in the bouquet he received from Meliorn?

A little flower language Raphael/Meliorn fic

All Audiences | Words: 1625 | ao3

Raphael was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm as he left the New York Institute after the meeting of the Downworld Council had ended. He turned to find it was Meliorn, their usual wide smile seeming almost shy. Maia nodded to them both as she walked by, before returning to her conversation with Luke, who had given a report to the council.

“I was wondering,” Meliorn began, before pausing. They seemed to gather their thoughts. “I was wondering if I might escort you home.”

Raphael felt his brows raise in surprise. He quickly schooled his expression, not wanting Meliorn to be offended. The two of them had been working more closely as of late, Meliorn volunteering to help on assignments that Raphael was also on. And Raphael appreciated their friendship greatly. “Certainly,” he said with a nod. “It would be nice to have the company.”

Meliorn smiled brightly and offered Raphael their arm. Managing to keep his expression neutral this time at the unexpected gesture, Raphael took the offered arm after only a moment’s pause. He couldn’t help but wonder because it was a rather long walk to the Dumort and didn’t really take Meliorn where they needed to go to get home, why they wanted to join him. But the warmth of their presence, the lack of pressure to perform a certain aspect of himself (leader, no-nonsense, aloof) let Raphael relax as they walked together.

“What are you thinking about?” Meliorn asked, their voice soft, just for the two of them.

“The city has changed so much, and sometimes it feels like I haven’t,” Raphael said because it was something he had been thinking about a lot lately. “I am nearing my 100th year, and it all moves so slowly and so quickly at the same time.”

Meliorn hummed. “I guess I don’t think of immortality the way you would. I am surrounded by those who are immortal, have known that was the life I would have since I was born.” Raphael looked over to see Meliorn’s profile. They were lovely, long hair falling over their shoulder and shining in the streetlights.

“I lost my sister,” Raphael admitted. It wasn’t something he talked about with many people, nor that many knew, beyond Raphael’s family (Magnus and Catarina), and Simon. “It was two years ago now, but I miss her every day. I have been missing her since I was turned.”

“I don’t have any siblings, so I won’t be able to understand your pain, fully,” Meliorn said after they walked half a block in thoughtful silence. “But if you need help holding such a loss, I am here.”

Raphael nodded, taking a few deep breaths that he didn’t truly need, but were grounding. “Thank you,” he finally managed.

“Of course,” Meliorn said, and then silence settled back around them. It was comfortable, companionable, as if words were not needed for the understanding they had found with each other. Raphael didn’t feel like this in the presence of many, beyond Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor.

Lost in such thoughts and the surprisingly pleasant evening, Raphael was surprised when they turned onto the street and he saw the Dumort in the distance. He tried to think of what he would say to Meliorn, what he should say but didn’t come up with anything more than, “Thank you for accompanying me,” by the time they reached the front door.

Meliorn smiled and gave a slight bow after Raphael let go of their arm. “Thank you for allowing me to.”

Raphael couldn’t help a matching smile from forming on his face. He could admit to himself that he was charmed and knew he would blush if he could.

“Before I go,” Meliorn said, hands going behind their back, and then they were offering a bouquet that they must have materialized. They handed it to Raphael as they said, “Goodnight. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Goodnight,” Raphael said after a long moment, taking his eyes from the bouquet in his hands. Meliorn was already far down the street, walking towards Central Park.

Raphael looked back at the plants that made up the bouquet and frowned. They were not standard flowers…

He hurried back to his rooms, nodding to the members of the clan he ran into. Thankfully no one needed him, so he could shut the door of his apartment to focus on figuring this out. Filling a jar with water, Raphael placed the bouquet into it before he grabbed his laptop to look up what flowers these were… and any meanings they may have.

The lovely greens of the plants felt like a beginning, a possible start of spring. The first, encircling the flowers at the center, Raphael found were leaves of the arborvitae cedar tree. This meant unchanging friendship, and Raphael puzzled at that. In the center of the leaves were light green rosebuds, still closed, and made Raphael stare at in wonder. Roses almost always meant something about love, to his knowledge. He was proven right when he found that green buds were confessions of love.

Raphael pulled out his phone and was calling Magnus before he could think better of it. Thankfully it wasn’t too late, which Raphael found as he glanced at the time after he already started the call. Though it would be close to midnight in Idris...

But he didn’t have to worry. As always, it was only a few rings before Magnus picked up. “Raphael, how are you?”

“Good,” Raphael said, and then remembered he shouldn’t just jump into his question. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Magnus said, sounding amused. “Now, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Raphael said far too quickly for Magnus to believe it.

“Oh, really now,” and Magnus was laughing. Raphael smiled at the sound. It was so much more carefree than it had been only three years ago.

“I need your opinion on something,” Raphael settled on. “Or at least your thoughts.”

“I’m all ears,” Magnus promised.

“Wait, this isn’t on speaker? Lightwood can’t hear?”

“Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus corrected. “And no, Alec can’t hear you, he’s already fallen asleep. Now, what has you so excited.”

“It’s Meliorn,” Raphael blurted.

It sounded like Magnus was sitting up. “What about them?”

“I don’t know… They walked me home after the council meeting tonight,” Raphael decided to start, but that wasn’t the true start. “Well, we’ve always gotten along and have been spending so more time together, mostly in a professional capacity mind you.”

“Mmhmm,” Magnus sounded far too pleased and excited. Raphael was tempted to hang up, but he also needed to know what Magnus thought.

“They gave me a bouquet when we reached the Dumort.”

“Flowers and plants are very important to seelies,” Magnus said, and Raphael rolled his eyes, because everyone knew that. But it was actually helpful to hear, to have even the obvious confirmed. “What flowers were they?”

“I looked up their meanings already,” Raphael said and realized his body was breathing fast.

He paused there, long enough that Magnus prompted, “And?”

“They mean…” Raphael started then swore. “They mean confessions of love and unchanging friendship.”

Magnus whistled, but then didn’t comment on that.

“What do you think this means!?” Raphael said, more frantic then he meant to be. At least Magnus wouldn’t hold it against him. He might tease a bit, but not right now.

And Magnus didn’t laugh this time, though Raphael was sure it was funny. Maybe he would laugh at some later point as well. “I think you just said what it means,” Magnus prompted, gently now.

“But…” Raphael sighed, pacing around his apartment now, unable to keep still. “What does it really mean?”

Magnus was silent for a moment, but Raphael could hear him breathing and knew he was still on the line. When he spoke again, it was very thoughtful. “I think it means they have feelings for you. Romantic feelings and they want to approach you about them. However, they want you to know that if you do not return them that it won’t change your friendship.”

Raphael nodded, though Magnus couldn’t see. His pacing slowed. “That would make sense.”

“You’re smiling, I can hear it,” Magnus said, his tone warm.

Raphael realized he was right. “Yeah, yeah I guess so.”

“So, how are you going to answer?” Magnus asked.

Raphael went back to his laptop, still on the counter next to the bouquet. “I think I should answer in the same fashion.”

“And that answer will be?”

Raphael took a breath and thought about it. Thought about what he was feeling, thought about how long it had been since he last had a relationship. Thought about how comfortable he was with Meliorn.

“I will let them know that I feel the same.”

“I’m so happy for you, my boy.” And Raphael knew he meant it.

.-.-.

It ended up being sometime before Raphael could speak to Meliorn again, and he wanted to do this in person. Before the next council meeting, Raphael took them aside very briefly. Meliorn’s eyes were beautifully made up, and they looked impressive in their armor. But it was the way they smiled at Raphael, with kindness and hope, that made Raphael know that this really could be something.

Raphael held up the single jonquil flower (affection returned) he had purchased. Meliorn smiled even brighter, gently taking the flower. “I’m glad,” they murmured, holding the flower as if it were something precious.

Raphael thought he would feel awkward now. But he could only smile back. He didn’t know what the next steps might be, the feeling of hope mixed headily with affection. “Would you like to spend some time together after the meeting?”

Meliorn gave a little bow. “Nothing would make me happier.”

#raphael santiago #meliorn #magnus bane #raphaeliorn #(i think is their ship name owhirhwor)#my fic #flower language #love confessions

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owenlars1 · 5 years ago

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STAR TREK ADVENTURER - 001 - INITIATIONS

IF YOU HAVE CHANCE, PLEASE WATCH STAR TREK TNG SEASON 4 - EPISODE 21 - THE DRUMHEAD. THIS INTRODUCES US TO SIMON TARSES AND PROVIDES US WITH A PARTIAL BACKGROUND. I FOUND HIS CHARACTER INTERESTING AND HAVE MADE HIM A MAIN CHARACTER IN ANOTHER STAR TREK SERIES - ADVENTURER ALL COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED AND WELCOME

Adventurer - 001 - Initiations

The large vacuum doors hissed open and crewman Simon Tarses, newly appointed medical technician of the Galaxy-class starship Adventurer, stepped into Main sickbay, his hand tightly gripping the strap of his medkit shoulder bag. He was both excited and nervous as he walked through the oval room which buzzed with the noise of the medical staff, who were dispersed into small groups throughout it. He looked about him at the impressively sophisticated instrumentation. Adventurer boasted, along with other superiorities, the largest and most advanced sickbay of any starship ever built. This was one of the reasons why Simon had applied for the position. Yet he hadn't dreamed of actually attaining it, not after the incident on board the Enterprise which he feared would end his starfleet career. He approached a small group of staff who were engaged in an animated discussion. "Excuse me, please" he said politely. A young woman turned to face him. She had short light blonde hair and a very round pretty face. She said nothing but gave him a warm smile. Simon felt his cheeks burn as he blushed crimson red. "Um...I..I'm looking for Doctor Richards," he stammered. The young woman continued to smile at him, studying his neat symmetrical features, his little pointed ears and his perfectly groomed dark hair. "Yes, we're all waiting for his arrival" she said suddenly. "He wanted to address us altogether. Shouldn't be long now, " she reassured him. "Thank you" Simon replied and gave an awkward smile. "No problem" she said, returning his smile. She turned to face her friends and continued her conversation. Simon walked over to the sickbay's office where about half a dozen or so medical staff were patiently queued. At the desk sat a female medical officer who appeared to be part-human, part-ktarian. She was uploading duty rosters from the medical database into each of their PADDs. Simon decided to join the queue, and as he did so, the vacuum doors hissed open once more. All heads turned as Dr. Richards entered the room. "Sorry I'm late folks!" he apologized quite cheerfully, and made his way to the top end of the bay, where a work station was positioned just outside his office. The noise in the room died down as he turned to face his audience. Simon noticed that the middled aged doctor had a very friendly, yet careworn face, as if he had been hiding some great secret. "Thank you all for coming" he began, "and welcome to Adventurer's Main Medical bay. I'm Doctor Richards and this is Medical Officer Luvena Kryllus, " he said pointing to the woman who had been uploading the data, and now stood at the office entrance. She nodded in response but her expression remained guarded. "Please don't hesitate to come and see either of us at any time if you need help or advice" he said reassuringly. "Now," he continued "as you know, Adventurer is one of the finest Galaxy-class starships of our time. I assure you that you are a small percentage of the starfleet applicants, so well done to all of you for attaining your positions here." He gave a noticeably nervous gulp. "Now, the doctors who will serve as heads of the auxiliary medical bays are Doctor Dakus Tolan of bay two, Doctor Oben Brax of bay three and Doctor Ursula Hunter of bay four." The Betazoid, Bolian and Terran born doctors all nodded as they were announced. "Now as you know" he continued, " Main Medical Bay is on deck two, whereas bays two, three and four are situated on decks eight, fourteen and twenty-one respectively. Only Main Medical bay will be operational twenty four hours. The auxiliary bays will normally be operational for around six hours a day, but they will all be manned in the event of a crisis. Now does anyone have any questions?" A young man from a boisterous group of crewmen put his hand up. "If we're just a small percentage of the applicants" he said, "how did Maxwell Prince get his position?" The room broke out into vivacious laughter. "Thanks very much!" retorted crewman Prince as he folded his arms. Maxwell Prince had been a notorious joker back at Starfleet Academy, and not many took him seriously. No one guessed that he would pass the training, let alone obtain a position on a starship. "I'm sure he must have done something right" Doctor Richards replied light-heartedly. "Now, does anyone have any sensible questions?" A murmur of laughter circled the room once more. The young woman who had spoken to Simon put up her hand. "Dr Richards" she asked, "is it true Adventurer is going to be exploring the Enigma Zone?" The room quietened to a complete hush. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to dicuss that.." he said hesitantly "...but I believe you will be informed when the Captain briefs you this afternoon at 14.00hrs." An atmosphere of apprehension subdued the room. No one had any more questions. "Ok, well thank you for coming" Dr Richards continued. "If you have not yet obtained your duty roster from Miss Kryllus then please do so...and if you can, please be at your posts at least fifteen minutes before your first shift. I look forward to getting to know all of you soon." With that he moved from the workstation, mopping his brow and sought to catch up with the three head doctors. The queue for data uploading resumed and a moment later, Simon stood in front of Miss Kryllus. He handed her his PADD and she began to upload it. Monitoring the upload she caught sight of the name on the screen. Impulsively she glanced up at Simon, clearly disturbed. "Tarses" she said, almost under her breath but loud enough for Simon to hear. Aware of his attention she raced her eyes back to the screen, and quickly pulled herself together. A few seconds later the upload was complete and she handed over the portable device. "Here you are Mr Tarses", she said as aloof as possible, but keeping her eyes cast down. "Your duties begin at 09.00 hours tomorrow morning." Simon moved from the queue and looked at his PADD.

REPORT TO DOCTOR RICHARDS: MAIN MEDICAL BAY - 09.00 HRS it read.

Simon was a medical technician. At least that was what his position on board the Enterprise had been. He was not sure exactly what his position was to be on Adventurer. His letter of acceptance had been non too specific. Still, he had been glad to have been accepted at all. He turned to leave but a hand on his shoulder halted him and he sensed someone peering over at his PADD. "Hey, what time does your duty start?" a voice asked. It was Maxwell Prince. Simon did not know him - Max was fresh from the academy. "Um, 0900hrs" Simon replied. "0900!" Max exclaimed. "How did you manage that? I start at 0500! I hate early mornings!" Simon went red and felt a little awkward. "I..." he began. "Hey, it's not your fault" Max interupted. "Anyway, I suppose it doesn't matter. It's dark in space, whatever time you get up!" Max smiled warmly, amused by his own joke and held out his hand. "I'm Max" he said, "but I guess you know that already" he added, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. "Simon" Simon responded nervously, shaking Max's hand. "Simon Tarses." "Nice to meet you Simon Tarses" Max said cheerily. "Say, do you fancy meeting up later in the mess hall for a drink? Say..18.00hrs?" Simon gulped. "Um...well, I..." he began. "Don't worry if you can't..." Max shrugged. "I..I'll catch up with you again." His broad smile diminished a little - he was used to being refused - and he walked off, backing into Miss Kryllus' work station as he did so. Simon watched him leave through the vacuum doors and gave a sigh. He had always found it difficult meeting new people - he feared he would be rejected before the other person really got to know him. His fear stemmed from his Romulan heritage, given away by his little pointed ears. They had been the source of much ridicule throughout his young life back on Mars colony, and since the incident on board the Enterprise, fear of his reputation preceding him had only compounded his anxiety. Before he arrived on Adventurer he had decided that it would be best to keep to himself as much as possible. The less people he knew the less he would have to confess. He felt a little guilty now though because Max had been friendly and despite his smile he had sensed Max's disappointment. There was something about Max that was very open and sincere, and he now wished he had been brave enough to accept his offer. As he thought, his eyes fell upon Doctor Hunter, the female Head Doctor of medical bay four. She appeared to have been crying and Doctor Richards was handing her a handkerchief. Doctor Richards put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her and said something, but Simon couldn't make out what it was. She wiped her eyes, smiled bravely and after a few more words from him, she headed to the doors and exited. Dr. Richards turned around in Simons direction, worry written all over his face. Their eyes met and Simon quickly looked down with embarrassment, feeling as if he had been spying on the two of them. He decided he had better go, and turned to exit. He was halted in his tracks though by Dr. Richards. "Mr Tarses?" Dr Richards inquired. "Yes, Sir" Simon replied. "Good to finally meet you Simon." They shook hands. "Me, Sir?" Simon asked quizzically. "I should explain" Dr Richards continued, "I wanted to meet with you as soon as I could." He looked around him. "Perhaps we should go into my office." He pointed to Simon to lead the way. Simon was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming feeling of apprehension. He imagined he was going to get a dressing down. They entered the office. It was quiet inside, the noise of the medical bay kept out by the plexi-glass walls. Dr. Richards noted the look on Simon's face. "I don't mean to alarm you, Simon" Dr Richards said. "I just wanted to say that I have been informed of your past history on the Enterprise and as far as I'm concerned, that's where it belongs. I've spoken to Captain Picard and Dr Crusher and both of them couldn't recommend you highly enough. But I also wanted to add that I know how people can be and to let you know that if you have any problem in regard to this, any at all, that I will unswervingly support you. I will not tolerate injustice or prejudice. I view all of my staff with the highest regard, some of them I even consider as family. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, so that you felt you could always approach me, at anytime for any reason." It was a heartwarming speech and Simon felt a lump in his throat. Only his parents had ever given him support like this and it was a great relief to know that someone was on his side. "Thank you" he replied. "I appreciate that, most sincerely. And I assure you, Sir, that I will never give less than my best. I won't let you down." Dr. Richards smiled warmly. "I know you won't Simon" he said softly. "So, when is your first shift?" "0900 hrs tomorrow morning, Sir" "I look forward to working with you, Mr Tarses." "Likewise Sir." "Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I have so many people to see." They exited the office, Dr Richards striding off towards more medical personel. Simon exited medical bay with a smile on his face. He hadn't felt so good in a long time, not since he had first heard of his acceptance. Having picked up his belongings from the cargo bay holds, he headed for his quarters on deck twelve. As the door opened he had to pause with surprise. Were these his quarters? He checked his PADD. Yes, the PADD confirmed it. He entered the room, looking about him, still in disbelief. Surely these were the quarters of an officer or even the Captain? They were certainly much larger than his quarters on board the Enterprise had been. He put his bags down and walked over to the large plexi-glass window which afforded a captivating view of the planet Jupiter below. The immense orange globe hung majestically in the pitch black of space; its huge red spot glowing with activity. Simon pulled a chair up to face the window and reclined. "Computer." It beeped in readiness. "Dim lights...and play Albinoni's adagio." It was Simon's favourite piece of music. The lights dimmed and the noble melody began to play, adding to the ethereal beauty of Jupiter's backdrop. I can hardly believe its fourteen and a half thousand miles away he mused to himself. It just doesn't seem real. In his own little world he soon lost track of the time, and as Shostakovich's second movement of Piano concerto No.2 ended, he peacefully nodded his head and fell fast asleep. He was awoken by a familiar voice and it took him a few seconds to realize that the voice wasn't coming from someone in his room. It was coming over the loudspeakers and it was Captain Isaacs voice! "Oh no!" Simon said to himself, realizing he should have met in cargo bay three with all of the other staff. As he hurried out of his room and towards the turbo lift he managed to catch bits of Captain Isaac's speech over the tanoid - congratulations on selection, the names of the senior staff, something about turbo lift 4 being out of operation? He now stood outside cargo bay three, and as the doors hissed open, over 400 crewmen turned their heads to see who had arrived late. Simon felt like he had been stabbed by hundreds of pairs of eyes and his cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. He instantly wanted to walk back out again but quickly decided to slip in at the back of the assembly. Slowly, all eyes began to face forward again - except one pair to his immediate right. He turned his head slightly- it was the girl whom he had spoken to in medical bay, and she was grinning at him again. As they both looked forward, Captain Isaac's rambling suddenly became more interesting. "Now, I can confirm the rumours of a mission to Sector 28404, more commonly known as the Enigma Zone as being true. Some of you may have heard of the peculiar cases of the crew onboard the Strider, when it traversed the zone, almost forty years ago. No starfleet vessel has been near that sector ever since. Adventurer's first mission will be to explore this sector and to locate any sources of these effects. Of course, we are much better protected than the Strider, and to be forewarned is to be forearmed. Nevertheless extreme caution will need to be demonstrated at all times. Adventurer will leave space dock shortly at 1500hrs and E.T.A. at Sector 28404 will be in four days and 6 hours time. In that time, our main priority will be for all sections to prepare as much as possible; all sections will be given further instruction by their heads before duty shifts. Adventurer is scheduled to stay in Sector 28404 continuously for three months, unless circumstances dictate otherwise. In two weeks, we are to be joined by Adventurer's sister ship, Explorer. I have full confidence in this crew, and that Adventurer will return with every success. Thank you." As crewmen began to file out of the cargo bay, Simon could feel eyes on him again. "So, did you fall asleep?" the girl to his right asked, half joking, half concerned. Simon blushed and felt foolish. "Yes" he grinned with embarrassment. She smiled at Simon, a little curious and already fond of this shy crewman. "I'm Lori" she said, holding out her hand. "Simon" Simon replied, a little awkward with his handshake. "So, which bay will you be working in?" she asked. "Bay 1" "Ah, with Doctor Richards. I'm jealous" she added with a smile, observing his reaction. A friend of hers approached. "Are you coming Lori?" she asked. "Well, bye Simon. See you around" Lori said, as they walked off together.

After a delicious meal of roast chicken and vegetables, courtesy of the replicator, Simon sat in his chair by the window in his quarters and reflected on his day. Adventurer had overwhelmed him. He couldn't wait for the adventure to begin and to start travelling the stars. He wondered what it was going to be like to work for Dr Richards. He had seemed friendly, and caring too - almost a father figure, Simon decided. Look how he had helped Dr Hunter when she had been crying. Why though had Dr Hunter been crying? What could have possibly upset her? Perhaps he would never know. And then there was the enigmatic Miss Kryllus who never seemed to smile. Why had she seemed so flustered when she read his name? Did she know about him, about his past, his mistake? But how could she? Then there was Lori. She seemed nice but he couldn't quite work out if she was being friendly or just enjoyed teasing him. She smiled a lot though. He was certainly glad she had been there in the cargo bay after his highly embarrassing entrance. Lastly, there was Max. Simon remembered how everyone had laughed at him, and yet, he didn't seem to be that bad a person. Max had been quick to jump to the conclusion that Simon hadn't wanted to join him. Perhaps Max needed a friend? He looked at the time, it was 18.30 hrs. "Computer" he prompted, "State the whereabouts of Ensign Max..um...Maxwell Prince." "Ensign Maxwell Prince is in the mess hall" it replied, in its monotone voice. Simon wasn't quite sure what to do. Maybe Max had gone with some other friends, and Simon was a little apprehensive of meeting lots of people. Perhaps he could go and sit somewhere quiet in the mess hall first, just to assess the situation? What if Max though called him over to meet everyone?..... He almost decided not to go, but somehow he felt it was right to make the effort. He didn't have to stay long...it had been a long day after all. The mess hall doors hissed open and Simon entered the large crescent-shaped room. It was quiet and the main lights were subdued. The blue light of the bar bathed most of the room and cast its ambient glow onto the few who sat at the tables. They were mostly in twos and threes, but at the front of the room, near one of the large windows sat a lonely figure.....it was Max. Simon walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. He sat on the edge of a bar stool and looked over to the slumped figure, wondering what he was going to say. Max's figure didn't move much. Maybe he shouldn't disturb him? But then again Max had asked him to come. The barman served Simon his drink. He took a sip of it, and then suddenly decided to take the bull by the horns. He walked over to the lonely figure a little nervous. "May I join you?" he enquired, approaching Max from the side. Max looked up quickly and almost knocked his own drink over. He hadn't heard Simon approach. "Simon Tarses!" he declared, startled. Simon stood politely, waiting to be invited. "Please, join me" Max said earnestly. Simon sat down to Max's right, he felt a little awkward. Although Max smiled, sadness was evident in his eyes. "Are...are you ok?" Simon asked him worriedly. Max looked down, contemplative, then back up at Simon. "I'm ok" he said, not very concincingly. Then he added "I'm really glad you came." Simon gave an awkward smile. "I wanted to come, when you asked me" he explained. "It's just that...I'm not very good at..well, making friends and socializing." Max pointed at the empty chairs around him. "Apparently, me neither" he said. "I asked about twenty people, you know. So I really am grateful you came." "I guess everyone was tired" Simon tried. "You know, they wanted to be ready for their first shift maybe?" Max nodded. "Yeh, that must be it!" he said with a wry smile, knowing it wasn't. "So, Simon Tarses" he continued, "I don't remember you from the academy. Have you already served in the federation?" Simon gulped and his stomach churned. He knew he would eventually have to explain his past, but he wasn't ready for it so soon. He gave a nod and winced, unable to hide his feelings. He took a deep breath. "It's a long story..." he said. "I..I made a bad mistake." Max's eyebrows shot up."What did you do?" he asked, intrigued as to what this perfectly quiet crewman could have done to look so worried. Simon didn't want to tell, and yet he felt he could trust Max somehow. "I...lied on my application to Starfleet" he confessed. "I said I was a quarter Vulcan...when I'm a quarter Romulan." He paused, reliving the dreadful moment on board the Enterprise when he had been exposed. "I can understand why you said that" Max replied thoughtfully. "People can be very quick to judge....I can vouch for that." "You...you don't mind...that I carry Romulan blood I mean?" Simon asked, his face contorted with concern. Max put his hand onto Simon's shoulder. "Why should I?...all I know, is that you were the only one who came tonight. That puts you pretty high up in my estimation." Simon's apprehension melted. It impressed him how Max didn't seem to have any prejudice at all, which was quite rare, even in this enlightened generation. "When I first joined you...you looked unhappy" Simon tried cautiously. He wouldn't normally ask something like this of anyone, but he felt Max had already proved himself a friend. If Max had a problem, then he wanted to help him. Max looked down. "It's my father" Max answered presently. "Nothing I do seems to please him. I... received a message from him, not long ago. You'd think he'd be proud but..." he couldn't finish the sentence, disappointment written all over his face. "I'm sorry" Simon offered. "He should be proud, that you were assigned here I mean." Max looked down. It was just too painful at the moment to even think about. He wanted to change the subject. "Look at us, Simon!" Max declared out of the blue . "Our first day on board the finest starship in the business, adventure just around the corner, and here we are feeling sorry for ourselves! We should be celebrating!" Simon was surprised by Max's sudden change. "I am excited about being on board" he smiled. "It's an amazing ship!" "Yeh, we're really lucky to be here!...I was surprised though, to be chosen I mean." "Me too" Simon agreed. "After what I did, I'm really grateful." Max smirked. "Well, like Doctor Richards said, I suppose we must have done something right!"

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caelestisnox · 5 years ago

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crashing into you (snowbaz)

ao3 link

Baz remembers being thankful that he was taller than Simon Snow. He thinks back to the early days, when he would hold Simon’s things (his books, his wand, his tie, that infernal red ball he used to have) up above his head, smirking at Simon as he jumps up and down trying to reach it. That fight usually ends with Snow getting frustrated and kicking his knees to make him drop whatever it was he was holding, but the pain was worth looking down at Snow and watching his pale, freckly face flush red as his eyebrows work their way into a scowl.

He tries to remember that pain and bring it to the front of his mind when Snow, once again, collides into him. Snow’s face smashes into his chest while his nose gets buried in those bronze curls. The smell of cinnamon surrounds him and he fucking hates fifth year and the horrible dawning realization that there is indeed a fine line between love and hate and that he has fucking crossed it.

He takes a step back, struggles to keep his facial expression aloof and flicks a cool look at Penelope Bunce.

“Control your pet, Bunce. Or at least get him a leash.”

Bunce does nothing but roll her eyes at him--long past tired at their antagonism--just tugs at Snow’s arm and tries to get him to move. Not that it’s gonna work, Snow is glaring at him and thinking hard enough that he can practically see gears spinning inside his head as he tries to come up with a retort.

“You know I have a name Baz. And it’s not my fault you like skulking around hallways like an overgrown bat.”

“I do not skulk. I do, however, watch where I’m going so I don’t bash other people’s chest.”

“I didn’t ‘bash’ your chest! I bumped against it. Mildly.”

“Nothing is mild when it concerns your thick skull.”

He’s got this wrinkle between his eyebrows that means he’s working his way into a bluster when Bunce once again tugs at his arm.

“Simon, come on! Agatha’s waiting in the library.”

At the mention of his girlfriend’s name (Or is it ex-girlfriend? Gossip around Watford says they’ve broken up but Merlin knows they’re getting back together. That’s how the stories always go. The chosen one fights, saves the world and gets the girl.), the fight leaves his face. Snow shoots one last glare at him and leaves, practically tripping over himself to get to Agatha. Baz just watches him go and tries very hard not to think about Wellbelove and Snow and their fairytale love story. Whatever. It’s not like he cares.

***

Baz can feel Simon Snow staring at him. Again. Usually he’d turn around to catch him looking, ready to shoot him a mocking grin but the last time he did it, Snow gave him a small smile in return. Which is… unusual.

Also, he’s pretty sure that Simon’s been following him around. He tried to ask Niall and Dev this morning if they noticed that they’ve been running into Snow more often lately but Dev just shrugged and Niall just said, “Not gonna touch you and Simon Snow’s weird thing with a ten-foot pole.” He kinda wanted to ask Niall what he meant by ‘weird thing’ but he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

It’s rather annoying that the same year Simon starts following him around—trying to catch him “plotting” or whatever idiotic thing it is that Snow thinks he does—is the same year that Baz begs off doing The Family’s bidding. The only complaint came from his Aunt Fiona insisting that his time is running out and they can’t afford to lose the chance his position offers. Surprisingly enough, his father came to his defense and it was kinda easy to ignore her rage-against-the-machine tendencies after that.

Baz has a feeling that maybe he should care about The Family’s fight against The Mage, but he doesn’t. He can’t. It’s his sixth year. It’s the last year he gets to live in the place his mother loved. The last year he spends in the place he lost her. And besides, between soccer, his horrifyingly real feelings for Simon Snow and the work necessary to beat out Bunce for valedictorian, he’s got enough on his plate.

He’s thinking about all these while he sits at the crypt, feeding on the rats crawling around the place (and Crowley this school’s gonna be overrun by rats when he leaves). He looks at the flowers on his mother’s grave—lilies, her favourite—and tries to imagine what his mother would say if she saw him right now.

She definitely wouldn’t be thrilled that her son has turned into a monster, but would she hate him? Would she think her son was dead and try to kill what he has become instead? Or would she be proud of him? For managing to live through this problem? For being one of the best students in Watford? What would she think of her son being in love with another boy? What would she think if that boy was Simon Snow?

He tips his head against the wall and tries to remember the feeling of her mother’s lips pressing against his forehead the way she usually did when she notices something off about his mood. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine the way she smelled, like smoke and cloves and warmth and comfort. He imagines her callused hand, the way all fire wielder hands are, brushing his hair back or holding his hand and making him feel safe.

A glance at his watch tells him it’s getting late so he stands up, reaches out and traces his mother’s name engraved in marble. He’s barely made it four steps away when he bumps into something. Or someone, as evidenced by the grunt of pain he just heard. The smell of cinnamon hits his nose again and…

“What are you doing here, Snow?”

Snow touches a hand to his forehead, rubbing at where it hit Baz and just looks at him in challenge.

“I should be asking you that question.”

“Crowley’s sake, can we not do this now? I’m not in the mood for your attempts at witticism.”

“You’re always disappearing into this place.”

“I’m right in front of you so clearly no one’s been disappearing.”

“Okay. What do you do in here anyway? Is this where you do your plotting? Do you have chimera hidden somewhere you can throw me at?”

“No! Plotting?! I don’t even know what you mean by that. And besides, I’ve told you before the chimera was an accident. It was only supposed to scare you, I didn’t think you’d start attacking it.”

“It breathed fire at me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Back away from it? Look, I’m tired, just go away.”

“Look, I was just asking. You’ve been going here five of the past seven nights, what even is in this place?”

The crypt is dark and kinda small. It’s late, he’s tired, his head’s a mess and he really doesn’t need Simon to keep reminding him of all the ways he has fucked up in the past. He misses his mother with an intensity that leaves his chest aching. The sound of Simon’s beating heart is so loud in the stillness of the room, a sharp reminder that Snow is so alive while he isn’t. The words are out before he can stop himself.

“My mother,” he says. “My mother’s grave is in here.”

Snow clearly didn’t expect that answer because the challenge in his expression falls. He starts stammering out some sort of apology, words tripping out his tongue. It looks so awkward it's kind of painful to watch. But it doesn't compare to the pity that's slowly making its way to Simon's eyes. He feels his stomach drop and his cheeks flush with anger. He knows it's irrational but it doesn't matter. He doesn't need pity from anyone, let alone Simon Snow. He pushes on through, shoves him out of the way and stalks out.

***

Living with the person you might be in love with is a dangerous minefield. Baz can remember all the nights he spent, hyperaware of the short but uncrossable distance between him and Simon. Mornings where the first thing he sees is Simon bleary eyed, hair tousled, looking so incredibly soft that he gets the urge to call out and ask him to curl up against him. Evenings where Simon comes home tired and bruised after fighting yet another one of the Humdrum’s creatures and all he wants to do is smooth his hair off his forehead and take care of him.

He’s a bit thankful that their mutual antagonism and paranoia caused them to never get dressed in front of each other. The most that they’ve seen of each other is a handful of shirtless moments where Baz allows his eyes to take in the shifting muscles on Simon’s back, lets his eyes linger and lets himself imagine kissing his way down Snow’s chest.

Thank Crowley they’ve already figured out a silent agreement that Snow showers at night, and that he showers in the morning.

Which is why he feels incredibly confused when Simon Snow crashes on his back while he’s brushing his teeth this morning. They have rules, unspoken rules but still rules, and he’s pretty sure that despite his normal obliviousness, Snow is aware of it. Besides, Snow didn’t even knock. He just opened the door, barged in and crashed into Baz. Who is only wearing a towel, a—considering the circumstances—very short towel.

Worst of all, he’s still got his toothbrush jammed into his mouth so he’s pretty sure trying to talk will make him look like a fool. Not that he can come up with anything clever to say. Not with Snow still pressed against his back, golden skin on his. Snow takes a step back, blinking in shock and then just… stares, eyes fixed disturbingly low on his back. There’s barely a couple of inches between the two of them and he can practically feel the warmth of Snow’s breathing against his skin. He briefly wonders if that heat could be enough to set him on fire.

He taps his toothbrush against the mirror to make Simon look at him and when their eyes meet, he just raises an eyebrow.

“Right. Wow, okay. Sorry,” says Simon, shaking his head as if to clear it. Then he turns around to leave, mumbling to himself and closes the door, but not before Baz could hear something that suspiciously sounds like smells like caramel.

He stares at himself in the mirror, trying to get his thoughts in order. He spits into the sink and thinks, “What the fuck just happened?”

***

It’s kind of disturbing how used they’ve all become to the various annoyances the Insidious Humdrum to Watford. During the fall dinner, some goblins sneaked through and wrecked a girl’s bathroom. A swarm of wrackspurts took over their elocution class last week which would have been amusing if not for the seven students sent to the infirmary because they were tripping high on wrackspurt bites (okay, it was pretty amusing). Tonight’s annoyance of the week however is not something he thinks he could get used to, because apparently the Humdrum just sent a manticore loose on the Wandering Wood.

Something that Baz finds out when something knocks him over as he’s passing by on the way back to the dorms. He’s flat on his back and blinking against the sky, when he recognizes what (or who) knocked him over. Simon Snow who has small, bleeding gash on his forehead is straddling him, thighs on either side of his hips. He can feel Snow’s hand cupping his cheek, thumb rubbing softly under his eyes.

“Baz, are you hurt?”

“Apart from you knocking me out? I’m great.”

Snow just makes an annoyed sound at that before heading back to the fight, waving and slashing his sword around. He can see Bunce on the other side shouting out spells to help Simon and like hell is he just going to lie there and wait for Simon to save him like some sort of damsel in distress. Pitches can fight for themselves.

He stands up quickly, dusts off his slacks, rushes next to Bunce and draws his own wand out. He and Bunce casts spell after spell but they barely affect the creature. Nothing happens until by chance, they both cast “And we all fall down!” at the same time. It doesn’t knock it out, but the combined force of the spell manages to tip the manticore over and that’s enough to give Snow a chance. He goes in strong and stabs him with the sword, killing the creature.

Simon rushes to where he and Penelope are standing. He hugs Bunce and waves away her questions with a simple I’m okay I’m okay. After Bunce has finished checking him over, Simon makes his way and stands right in front of him.

“Thanks for the help, Baz.”

Baz wants to fuss over him, too. Wants to check the still bleeding gash on his forehead and take Simon into his arms so he can feel him breathe and know that he’s okay, he’s alive. Watching him fight the manticore, while a little hot, was fucking terrifying. He wants to tell Simon that he’ll be there if needs help, just say the word. Wants to tell him, it may not be much but he’ll try and protect him. But that isn’t how it goes with them so what comes out of his mouth is, “I can’t very well let that creature kill you. That’s my job.”

He expects a retort. Something clever wrapped in annoyance. But what he gets instead is an assessing look from Simon and a firm, “Or not.”

“What?”

“Or not. I don’t like fighting you.”

“How unlucky for you, it’s my favourite thing to do.”

“Or not,” he insists, “I like you.”

Baz feels his world stutter for a second. He likes me He likes me He like me plays in his head over and over. There’s something rising in his chest that feels like it could be fear or relief or hope or all of them all at once. He hears a slight tremble in his voice when he speaks.

“What do you mean you like me?”

“I like you. Like, your face and just… you.”

“Have you forgotten that we’re mortal enemies?”

“Not really. But I don’t think that matters much.”

“It matters! How are we going to be boyfriends if you hate me?”

Simon, the brat, just scoffs at that. “I don’t hate you,” he seems to think about what Baz just said, “Wait, so you DO wanna be boyfriends?”

“No!” Simon raises his eyebrows. “Maybe,” Simon smiles, “Okay, yes. Yes! But how will this even work? It can’t be this easy. We’re supposed to—“

Baz doesn’t get to finish saying with they’re supposed to be because Simon’s mouth is on his. It’s better and worse than he ever dared to imagine. Simon’s lips are soft and hot and a little chapped but it doesn’t fucking matter because this is fantastic. Simon surges up and Baz’ hands fly at his waist, holding him steady, holding him close. A line of fire dancing where ever Simon’s skin touches his. Simon bites down on his lower lip and he hears himself moan, low and a little desperate. He kisses back harder, opens his mouth and uses his tongue, encouraged by the sounds Simon is making.

“Right. So I’ll just head back alone then. See you tomorrow, Simon. Baz.”

They pull apart, at the sound of Bunce's voice, both of them breathing hard. He watches as Penelope walks back to the castle alone--he’d forgotten she was even there. He looks over Simon, takes in his flushed face, glazed over eyes and slightly swollen lips. He feels a little flattered that Simon seemed to forget about her, too.

Simon runs his thumb against his ear, “Hey, Baz,” he kisses him again, “We’ll make it work.”

He observes Simon’s face trying to look for doubt or any sign of hesitation and all he sees is determination. He lets the pleasure and happiness thrumming through his body show on his face. “I guess we will.”

***

Baz had always been a light sleeper. His vampire senses are annoyingly sensitive and the smallest sounds, the softest touches can wake him up. So when Simon Snow, back from the library where Penelope dragged him to study, just falls into his bed, his hand hitting Baz in the chest, he wakes the fuck up.

“Crowley’s sake, Snow. I expected better wake up calls when I started dating you.”

Simon just hums at him, shifting so he can lie more comfortably on Baz.

“Are you even listening? You’re kinda heavy, you know.”

“You have super strength, you can take it.” He sighs, “I’m so tired.”

“I did tell you I could teach you instead. I'd make it fun. I’d be a better teacher than Bunce was to you.”

Snow raises his head to look at him, “You'd be distracting. Also, don’t let her hear you say that. The two of you will end up using me in some sort of teaching competition.”

“But I’d win, right?”

Simon just hums at that, “Sure.” He gives Baz a kiss and goes back to using his chest as a pillow.

“Time to sleep now. Good night, Baz.”

“Good night, Simon.”

#carry on #snowbaz #simon x baz #simon snow #baz pitch #i have a handful of fics #which are about books #and i thought i should put them up here #*mine: words #fanfic

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 5 years ago

Text

The Many Deaths of Fabian Cortez

Once again, @thecorteztwins inspired me to write something stupid about Fabian, featuring his many deaths and resurrections on Krakoa as he annoys every woman on the island.

Warnings for the usual level of Fabian-style sexual harassment and groping. A couple of the deaths are gruesome, but nothing described in much detail. One of the deaths got a little more angsty than funny, sorry about that. Also sorry for any continuity mishaps, I’m not familiar with a few of the characters in here. I characterized Chrome and Delgado based on thecorteztwin’s headcanons for the personalities. Under a read-more, because this sucker wound up long.

The first time it happened was when Fabian made the monumental mistake of flirting with Selene. He’d already been trying his luck (meaning “pestering and in some cases straight- up assaulting”) with some of the gentler, less violent mutants. Dr. Cecilia Reyes simply covered her body with a forcefield when he attempted to grope her, then pushed him aside when he persisted. Wallflower used her pheromones to induce a jolt of fear that sent him scurrying away. Sooraya shifted into a cloud of dust and reformed on the other side of the island after Fabian commented that it was a waste for a beautiful woman like her to cover herself completely (Icarus promptly punched Fabian in the nose to “discourage” him from trying again). Meggan played dumb blonde and asked Fabian to explain, several times, what exactly he meant by “Does the carpet match the drapes?” She finally flew off when he failed to recognize the obvious brush-off.

So Fabian was brimming with unearned confidence – because the women’s non-homicidal attempts to rebuff him had been, in his mind, “playing hard to get” – when he decided to approach the former Black Queen.

“Well, it’s your funeral, man,” Dominic said, lifting a beer as if to toast him.

“Because she’ll literally fuck me to death, you mean? Not to worry! I’ve got incredible stamina and a very healthy heart.”

“Don’t listen to him, mate, go for it. Tell her about how you’re the ‘true pinnacle of homo-superior,’ she’ll be real impressed.” St. John couldn’t finish the sentence without snickering.

“It…seems like a bad idea,” said Simon nervously. He hadn’t really intended to fall in with the bad guys, especially since he’d been trying to prove himself as an X-Man, but the original Pyro had immediately glommed onto him with a pushy, aggressive friendliness. And he supposed they weren’t really doing anything wrong just sitting around drinking and swapping stories. It was better than awkward run-ins with Iceman, who was trying to pretend that the two of them hadn’t banged.

“Shush, Baby Pyro. Let the man do his thing,” St. John said, tossing back another Jack and Coke.

“Please don’t call me that,” Simon muttered.

“Yes, I shall now ‘do my thing,’ as you so eloquently put it. Try not to eat your own hearts out with jealousy when she falls into my arms,” Fabian said as he swaggered off.

“She’s gonna eat his heart. Literally,” Dominic grunted. “Why are you even encouraging this, Johnny?”

“Because it’ll be hilarious, and there’s fuck all to do on this island. I’m about ready to start writing again, I’m so bored.”

“Ugh, don’t expect me to help edit if you’re gonna start in with more of that Harlequin romance crap –“

“You are literally the last person I’d ask to help edit, you illiterate wanker – “

“Hey guys, I think he’s making his move.” Simon pointed across the way, interrupting the quarrel. (Simon had already recognized that original Pyro and Avalanche bickered like an old married couple, and drawn his own conclusions about that.) Fabian was trying to casually lean against a tree while chatting up Selene, but had misjudged the distance, and was now stuck in a weird diagonal slant. He made a vain attempt to compensate by pushing off the tree in a series of awkward, one-handed push-ups, while flexing his other arm. Selene stood with her arms crossed like a very sexy, very terrifying statue.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dominic snorted.

“This is bloody brilliant, it is. I’m absolutely putting this in my next book.”

“It’s gonna be a comedy, then?”

Fabian had stopped the push-ups, and was now gesturing at Selene, then back at himself. He ran a hand down his chest and abdomen in what he probably assumed was an alluring manner. Selene hadn’t moved, but something in her posture seemed tenser than before. Simon thought he could see a vein standing out in her forehead.

“Wish we could actually hear him,” St. John remarked.

“I like him better when he’s out of earshot,” Dominic responded.

“You almost gotta admire him, in a way, haven’t ya? I mean, the sheer bollocks on the man to walk up to the Black Queen and try to put the moves on her. Most men’s dicks would just shrivel up in fear.”

“Is it really brave if he’s too stupid to be scared?” Dominic crushed his empty beer can and pulled out two more, tossing one across to Simon.

“Yeah,” Simon put in. “It’s kinda like jumping the fence at the zoo and trying to pet a lion.” The sense of camaraderie was making him feel more at ease. The alcohol helped, too.

“See, Other Pryo agrees with me.”

“Please don’t call me that, either.”

Across the way, Fabian gestured again at Selene, then cupped his hands and twisted them around in an obviously lewd gesture. Selene finally broke her stance, grabbing Fabian by the front of his shirt and pulling him forward into a passionate kiss.

There was a collective gasp from the three mutants watching.

Then, a dark energy crackled over the two embracing. Fabian’s eyes widened in fear, and he attempted to pull away, but Selene put her hands on the back of his head and forced his mouth down onto hers. The blackness rippled across Fabian, then drained into Selene, who seemed to stand taller and stronger while Fabian’s muscular body withered in her arms. Soon there was nothing left but a desiccated corpse, which Selene contemptuously tossed aside, wiping her mouth and looking like she’d just enjoyed a full meal.

“Alright, Dom and Baby Pryo. You’re both right. The tosser is just too dumb to live,” St. John conceded.

The second incident showed that Fabian had not learned any kind of lesson at all from his experience with Selene, as he decided to proposition Mystique. The exotic blue skin, contrasting with her fiery red hair and revealing white costume – how could any man resist? And why would she dress in such a way if she didn’t long for male attention? Her cold, aloof temperament added to the appeal, with an exciting hint of danger. (Of course, for most would-be suitors, it was significantly more than a “hint” of danger. But Fabian was never one to notice things that didn’t fit into his world view. As far as he was concerned, she only needed the right man – himself – and she would melt into his arms like a delicate snowflake.)

She presented a particularly dangerous picture as Fabian approached, cleaning and oiling the guns that she had spread along the table. Sitting across from her, Toad was absorbed in his Nintendo Switch, waiting for her to finish so that they could start planning the next mission. He’d earned some downtime, and was determined to get in a little practice so that Doug Ramsey wouldn’t destroy him at the next Smash Brothers game. Again.

“Mystique. Why is a beautiful woman like yourself doing such base manual labor?” Fabian slid into the seat next to her. “Why not leave it to him?” He gestured across the table at Toad, who briefly looked up from his game to scowl back.

“No one touches my guns except me.” Mystique did not look up from her work. “What do you want, Cortez?”

“Just to spend a little time with you, so that we could get to know each other better.”

“If you don’t have anything interesting to say then stop wasting my time.”

“I have many, many interesting things to say to you. But perhaps it would be easier if we had some privacy. If the third wheel sitting across from us would possibly take a hint?”

“Stay, Toad,” Mystique insisted.

Toad nodded. He wasn’t really paying attention to the game anymore, as he couldn’t resist sneaking up glances to watch Cortez be inevitably put in his place. He felt a little bad about it – indulging in that kind of schadenfreude was an unhealthy habit of his from back in the early days of the Brotherhood. He had so desperately wanted Magneto to love him, and he’d spent so much of his life as the unwanted, outcast butt of every joke. It gave him a thrill of glee to see someone else get in trouble for once.

“If that is your wish, Mystique, I will allow it. But you may prefer that we move this someplace more private once the conversation becomes more….intimate.” He reached out to brush a hand against Mystique’s cheek, and she jerked away, looking up at him for the first time.

“What is this actually about, Cortez? Do you have information or some kind of plan in mind? I know you’re a devious little shit and I can respect that, but cut to the chase.”

“Very direct! I like it. I love it when a woman takes charge.” At least as long as her “taking charge” happened to coincide directly with Fabian’s own desires and fantasies. “My ‘plan,’ as you so delightfully put it, is simple. You. Me. Enjoying each other’s bodies and experiencing pleasure that you couldn’t possibly imagine. We could find a bedroom, or a secluded spot on the beach –“

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mystique snapped. “I thought you had something I could use, but you’re just hitting on me?”

“And why not?” Fabian stood up, spreading his arms wide to better show off his muscular chest. “Am I not incredibly attractive?”

“You’re making a huge mistake,” Toad warned, now openly watching the scene with his chin resting on one hand. “I’d back off while you still can.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Fabian said coldly. “And pull your tongue back into your mouth, you repulsive creature. She’s probably too disgusted by the sight of you to respond to my advances.”

Toad slurped his tongue back up out of sight, tucking the excess into his cheek, which now burned with embarrassment. The long tongue had been a later mutation, and he’d never quite gotten used to it. Keeping it all inside made his mouth feel uncomfortably full, and it often lolled out without his noticing. But he was all too aware that others found it disgusting.

“You’re far more repulsive than Toad could ever be,” Mystique said, standing up to face Fabian with her arms crossed. Toad felt a small spot of warmth blossom in his chest. He certainly didn’t feel bad anymore about watching Fabian get what was coming to him.

“Understand, because I’ll only say this once,” Mystique continued. “I am not, and will never be attracted to you. I do not desire you or your company in any way – sexually, romantically, platonically. Do not speak to me again unless you have something relevant to say.”

Fabian seemed taken aback for a moment, then he grinned.

“So, you’re saying that you’re only going to refuse me once? I get it, you like a man who persists, who makes you feel that you are worth fighting for. I won’t make you say it again.” He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. His lips never touched hers – instead, Mystique’s hands moved rapidly, and there was a sharp cracking sound as Fabian’s head wound up facing the wrong way on his body. He dropped to the floor. The whole thing happened too quickly for him to even register surprise, so his now slack face, with eyes glazed over, still held some hint of hopeful anticipation.

“Wow, that was…sudden,” Toad muttered, his tongue slipping out again. Mystique just looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

Toad shrugged back at her. “I mean, you did warn him.”

“If anyone asks, he tried to take one of the guns.” Mystique was absolutely not in the mood for an Xavier lecture, it was even worse than a Magneto lecture.

“Agreed.” Toad nodded.

The third time, Fabian made what he believed was an entirely innocent gesture. He saw a lovely ass, barely covered in tight black booty shorts, and he gave it the playful slap that such an ass invited.

Obviously, his first mistake was in assuming that clothing was an invitation for touching, and that he had a right to put his hands on anyone’s body.

His second, and ultimately more important mistake, was that the ass in question belonged to Illyana Rasputin.

Illyana whirled around at the touch, and her eyes narrowed. Whatever pick-up lines Fabian had planned shriveled and died on his tongue as her piercing blue eyes seemed to stare directly into his soul. A chill ran through his entire body, and he shuddered involuntarily. For once, Fabian was immediately aware that he had gotten in over his head. This was no woman, it was a demon wrapped in a beautiful body, meant to lure in innocent men like him.

The she-demon reached out a hand, and said a single word.

“Limbo.”

The word seemed to echo in Fabian’s ears as the ground melted away below his feet, and he dropped into a glowing circle.

Later, Illyana would claim that she had only intended to teleport him across the island, far away from her. It was a complete mistake that Fabian had somehow wound up stranded in Limbo, and torn apart by demons. And hey, that wasn’t her fault, right?

The fourth time, Fabian had retreated back to familiar ground – his own beloved Acolytes. He’d led the group for so long, and served under Exodus (despite the man being painfully unfit and incompetent), so surely they’d all welcome him with open arms. And there was his own dear sister, resurrected at last.

Unfortunately, Anne Marie was a bit miffed at him for the events that had led up to her death, which Fabian thought was rather unreasonable. It was so long ago, Fabian could barely even remember it. Who could really say anymore who betrayed who, or who caused Asteroid M to crash? The important thing was that it all ultimately came down to Magneto’s poor leadership. Anne Marie didn’t quite see it that way. She directed an icy glare at him whenever he ventured into the compound that most of the resurrected Acolytes had chosen to share.

“Anne Marie, have I mentioned recently how happy I am to see you returned to us?”

“Chrome, please tell my brother that I am not speaking with him.”

“Fabian, Anne Marie says – “ Chrome began in a deadpan.

“Yes, yes, I heard her,” Fabian hissed. His sister’s stubborn hostility hurt him more than he expected, although he was used to her being childish and willful, having grown up together. He hadn’t actually intended for her to die all those years ago; he hadn’t imagined she’d be so stubborn as to stay by Magneto’s side until the end.

“Look, Anne Marie, things were complicated back then. I had a plan –“

“Chrome, please tell my brother to stop making excuses for his despicable betrayal of Lord Magneto.”

“Fabian, Anne Marie says –“

“Chrome, why are you participating in this immature nonsense?” Fabian snapped.

“Because it amuses me, and I like her better than you.” Chrome was blunt as always.

“Fine,” Fabian sighed. “But let me remind everyone that we’ve all been reborn on this island to start fresh, all sins forgiven. Why don’t we let the past stay in the past? I mean, I’ve died several times now, I don’t know why you’re all making such a big deal out of it. And Magneto is alive, anyway. He’s alive and thriving, so no harm done.”

“Disagree,” Delgado muttered, from the corner by the window. He was staring longingly out at the trees and sunshine, but unwilling to leave his team-mates alone with this snake.

“Why are you even here, Cortez? Are you recruiting for your stupid harem again, or are you going to try to replace Exodus. Because you must know neither of those things are ever going to happen,” Frenzy spoke up from the table, where she and Unuscione were splitting a bottle of wine.

“You say ‘start fresh,’ but you’re the same as ever,” Unuscione added. “You never change, Cortez.”

“Why should I change when I am so magnificent? Perfection itself!” Fabian exclaimed, although his enthusiasm withered a little under his sister’s glare.

“I have rarely met anyone so completely and utterly wrong,” Chrome snorted. Fabian paid him the generous favor of ignoring him.

“Rest assured, I am not here to reclaim my rightful place of leadership. Although I’m not sure why you all wouldn’t want that. Someone has to take charge. Magneto is running the island with Xavier, and Exodus has abandoned you all to go tell stories to children.”

“So, it’s the harem, thing, then?” demanded Frenzy. “It’s always one or the other.”

“My friends, can’t I just visit you all out of the goodness of my heart?”

‘That has never happened,” Chrome pointed out.

“Ever,” Delgado added, quite unnecessarily, Fabian thought.

“Loooook,’ he adopted a soothing tone. “I just think that we should all start thinking about the future. After all, we’re going to be living out our lives here. And eventually, we’ll no doubt start forming family units. It’s only natural. And one of the rules of Krakoa is to make more mutants, after all.”

“Wow, there it is,” put in Unuscione. “I knew you’d get there eventually.”

“I think we need to sort this out early, so that it doesn’t get…messy later on,” Fabian continued. “After all, I’m only one man, and there are only so many hours in the day. We don’t want fights breaking out.”

“Oh my god, will you just leave?” Frenzy exclaimed. “We don’t want you around.”

“Now, now, don’t get excited. I know you deny your feelings because you don’t think you’re worthy, but I assure you, I find you extremely worthy. You and Unuscione both.”

Unuscione jumped up from the table at this point, forcefield spreading across her body, but Frenzy put an arm in front of her.

“The other mutants already think we’re violent trouble makers,” she said. “Let’s not prove them right.”

“Yeah, but….it’s Fabian.” Unuscione gestured at Cortez as if his very existence explained everything.

“I know. Let’s finish this wine and then go burn him in effigy.”

“I like the way you think.”

“So……” Fabian folded his arms, giving a long-suffering sigh. “No one is willing to help propogate the mutant race with me, despite my obvious superiority in all respects? And all because you’re all holding a grudge over a few tiny little mistakes in the past, that weren’t even really mistakes, just part of a long-term plan – “

Fabian was interrupted by a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He heard Delgado call out his sister’s name, and whirled around. He didn’t quite complete the turn, as the wine bottle was snatched up off the table and shattered against his temple.

Fabian collapsed amid a spray of red wine and broken glass. His vision rapidly fading, he looked up to see his sister standing over him, holding the end of the broken bottle, her face contorted with rage.

“You are not forgiven,’ she whispered, and then both sight and sound faded as he slipped away.

“Hey, we were drinking that,” said Frenzy, although her annoyance faded as she looked up to see Anne Marie starting to shake, tears spilling out of her eyes as she dropped the bottle. “Um, hey….you okay, hon?”

“It’s okay, Anne. He had it coming. And they’ll just bring him back next ceremony anyway,” Unuscione said.

“We’ll take it from here,” said Chrome, as he and Delgado came to stand on either side of Anne Marie, gently taking her arms. She looked at both of them with a dazed expression, and then down again at her brother, the tears continuing to drip down her cheeks.

“Come with us, Anne Marie. Outside. You’ll feel better,” said Delgado. The two former Acolytes led Anne Marie outside, and they sat together for a long time under the trees, quietly watching the birds

The fifth time it happened, Fabian had learned a few lessons, and decided to approach some meek, sweet-natured mutants again. Which is why he was sitting next to Marie-Ange Colbert, the former Hellion known as Tarot, with his arm draped presumptuously around her shoulders. The way she seemed to quietly shrink away did not bother him. Obviously she was just shy. The sense of innocence and vulnerability was very attractive. Someone sweet and kind was exactly what he needed after the pain of his sister’s betrayal. He couldn’t get Anne Marie’s face out of his mind, so twisted with hatred. He shoved the image aside, and focused on the beautiful girl in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Monsieur Cortez, but our destinies are not in any way entwined. The cards are not favorable,” Tarot said. She attempted to shrug off his arm, but he pulled her in closer.

“Your superstitions are adorable, my dear girl,” he purred. She seemed so lovely and pliant. He’d tried approaching the exotic one with the tail and lavender hair, but she’d hissed at him in a way that was really unbecoming, then run off into the woods. “But we mustn’t let them stand in the way of true love. Imagine the possibilities of the two of us together!”

Tarot turned slightly green as she unintentionally imagined it.

“Hey, that’s enough. She’s not interested, and you need to take your hands off her. Now.” James Proudstar stood in front of the pair, scowling down at Fabian. Although he no longer considered himself a proper “Hellion,” he still felt some responsibility to watch over his resurrected team-mates on Krakoa. His fierce expression and massive bulk would make anyone with common sense hesitate – but Fabian was not known for his common sense.

“We are having a private conversation,” he said smugly. “If the lady is not interested, she can tell me that herself.”

“I’m not.” Marie said firmly.

“My dear, you play hard to get. Why don’t you say it like you really mean it?”

“She’s not interested. Now back off.” Jetstream joined his team-mate towering over the pair. Two other Hellions – the muscular Beef and electro-powered Bevatron came up behind them in a show of support.

Sitting off to one side, Empath watched the proceedings with a quiet smirk, enjoying simply being able to watch things again. On Krakoa he’d fallen in with his formerly deceased team-mates largely out of familiarity. Given that people like Selene, Mr. Sinister and Apocalypse had been invited to the island, his own comparatively minor crimes were largely forgotten. He hadn’t really changed at his core – he was still a cruel, narcissistic bastard who enjoyed the suffering of others. But his time spent blind had humbled him and taught him an important lesson – to shut up and stay under the radar. It was nice to see the group united in hating someone that wasn’t him.

“And what will you do if I don’t, as you so crudely put it, ‘back off’? There is a proscription against violence on this island, as you all well know.”

“No, the rule is we’re not allowed to kill humans,” James corrected. “Mutants can always be brought back.” Manuel nodded in agreement. Amara had burned him to ash a couple of times before declaring a kind of “truce” in which he agreed to never speak to her again and she agreed to stop killing him.

“Yes, yes, but we are discouraged from starting meaningless fights,” Fabian pressed. “We don’t want to disrespect the island by wasting precious resources.” Mutants killing mutants wasn’t technically against the rules, but the killer had to explain their reasons. A mutant who killed too frequently and easily would be put in a brief “time-out”: imprisoned within the island itself like the mutants who killed humans, but for a much shorter time. They had to have some deterrent, or else old grudges, plus the villains living among them, plus the cathartic ability to murder without consequences would quickly turn the island into a bloodbath.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from getting killed. Over and over again,” Haroun pointed out. “Even more than de la Rocha, somehow.”

“Yes, we are getting really tired of watching you come back in the resurrection ceremony,” Bevatron agreed. “It is supposed to be a sacred ritual. It kind of – how you say? – ruins the magic.”

“We’re all gonna have to watch it again if he doesn’t take his arm off Tarot right now,” Beef said, cracking his knuckles ominously.

“Are you all really threatening me?” Fabian sputtered self-righteously. “Just because I dare to love?”

“There is no love!” Tarot finally snapped, flinging his arm aside and standing up, putting some distance between them. “I want you to leave me alone. Right now.”

“My poor, dear girl. You are confused by your team-mates’ lack of respect and understanding.”

“She’s not confused, she’s rejecting you. Take a hint, jerk.” Roulette walked up to join the group glowering down at Fabian. She had waves of blond hair and fuller curves than the slim Tarot, and Fabian felt his desire stir for this one as well. So many worthy mutant women on the island. The fact that he didn’t have a harem assembled already was proof that the universe was a cold, indifferent place with no sense of justice. And certainly not because he was doing anything wrong. Anne Marie’s face flashed up again, and he shook his head to clear it, gazing again at the blond.

“Such harsh words from such a lovely vision of a woman. Don’t be jealous, there is room in Fabian’s heart for both of you.”

“That’s it –“ Beef started to step forward, but Roulette put a hand against his chest.

“No need to start a fight,” she said, summoning a glowing black disc into her hand. “We’ll just give this ass a healthy dose of bad luck to encourage him to back off.” She tossed the disc at Fabian, who attempted to catch it, only to have it disappear within his hand.

“Sorry, was that supposed to harm me in some way?” Fabian scoffed. He stood up, arms extended. “As you can see, I’m fi-“

He was cut off as he stepped on the end of his cape, and staggered backward, falling over the bench that he and Tarot had been sitting on. As his feet kicked up, one of his boots flew up into the air, hitting a tree branch that had been weakened by rot. The branch came crashing down. Fabian gasped and rolled away at the last second. Unfortunately, his trajectory took him right across a nest of fire ants, and he had only a moment’s respite before they came boiling out of the ground, stinging enthusiastically. He leaped to his feet, shrieking and batting at his clothing, running in a blind panic. His cape snagged on a tree branch, and yanked him back off his feet, his head slamming down on a rock. Then everything was quiet for a moment, Fabian limp and still on the ground.

Jenny burst out laughing, while Tarot had her hands clasped over her mouth in shock. James walked over and gingerly nudged Fabian with his foot.

“Wow, Jenny, you killed him.”

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean….” Jenny gasped between bouts of laughter. “I mean, that was amazing, but I really didn’t mean to kill him. But that was amazing, wasn’t it?”

“Oh dear,” Tarot sighed. “We will have to explain this.”

“Ugh, I don’t want another Xavier lecture. He’s such a self-righteous prick,” Jenny scowled. Then her eyes fell on Fabian’s discarded boot, and she began laughing again.

“I’m sorry guys, it’s just…it was like a cartoon. Totally worth it.”

“It was an accident,” Haroun asserted. “We all saw it. You were just trying to drive him away and protect Marie. We’ll back you up.”

“Don’t worry, Roulette, I caught it all on video,” Empath announced, pressing a few buttons on his phone. “Aaaaaaaand it’s up on Youtube now.”

“Manuel, no!” James scolded.

“Manuel, yes!” Haroun countered. “Let the whole internet see that bastard’s humiliation!”

“Hey, look at all the hits already! This is going viral, Jenny,” Manuel said, turning the phone towards her.

“Oh wow! I’m gonna be a Youtube star! We’ve gotta find a way to monetize this!” Jenny gushed.

Meanwhile, deep in the forest, oblivious to the recent events, a lavender cat and a russet wolf slept curled up against each other in a contented pile of fur.

The sixth time, Fabian didn’t even manage to stay alive for ten minutes. He noticed, as he came out of the pod naked and dripping, that many of his fellow Upstarts seemed to be getting brought back at the same time.

“What happened to you?” he demanded of Shinobi Shaw, who was facing the crowd with no shame about his nudity. Probably enjoyed giving them a show (and flashing his own father), as did Fabian himself. One silver lining of his frequent deaths was that the mutants gathered for the ceremony got to see his glorious physical perfection.

“Orgy went wrong,” Shinobi said with a smirk. “Never try to have an orgy in a cave that floods at high tide.”

“You couldn’t just leave? Also, why did no one invite me?”

“We were way too involved to just get up and leave when the tides started coming in. Some people were in very elaborate restraints. Including me. Also, we were all pretty wasted. We’re the whole reason Storm is giving a speech right now about being responsible and how our lives are precious resources not to be wasted. Blah, blah blah.” Most people would be embarrassed about drowning in a drunken orgy, but Shinobi seemed to hold it as a badge of honor.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Fabian demanded again. “I mean, look at me!”

“It was just kind of a small-scale thing, really,” Shinobi began, as more mutants emerged from the pods. “Just a few of us.”

“Wait, are those the Marauders?” Fabian asked, looking at the newly resurrected mutants. “Did you invite the Marauders and not me?”

“Oh, no,” Shinobi assured him glibly. “I’m sure they all died at the same time for unrelated reasons. Sinister’s always cloning them, anyway, he probably just wanted an upgrade.”

“Hey, Shinobi! Great orgy!” Riptide waved from across the way. “You are absolutely the blow job king, my friend, I concede the title.”

“Okay, maybe a few Marauders got invited. C’mon, some of them are pretty hot.”

“Shinobi, loved the orgy,” called Arclight. “Let’s do it somewhere less lethal next time.”

“Nah, it’s not a good orgy unless a few people die,” put in Scalphunter. “Makes it more exciting.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fabian exclaimed. “All of the Marauders and not me? Have you not seen this?” He gestured down at his crotch.

“Oh, I’ve seen it.” Shinobi smirked again, not even having the decency to look sheepish for all his lies. “It’s very impressive, but women don’t seem to like the way you use it. And you don’t seem willing to let me touch it.”

“I don’t swing that way,” Fabian said, although an image of Quicksilver popped up in his head for some bizarre reason. “And what do you mean women don’t like the way I use it?”

“Let’s just say I’ve…heard some complaints,” Shinobi said.

“Okay, you know what? Let’s do this whole orgy thing over again,” Fabian declared. Seeing the nude women around him was already sending blood down to a certain area, and lust was amplified by a frustrated anger. “We’re already naked, let’s start now. And then we’ll see who has complaints!”

“Much as I love the idea of giving the crowd a show, I think you’re jumping the gun a little here, Cortez,” Shinobi said as Fabian marched over to the nearest pod where a woman was emerging. He pulled her up against his body, and found himself staring into the eyes of Siena Blaze.

“Heard I missed the orgy. I’m sure you were incredibly disappointed. Let me make it up to you, right now.”

“Let go of me, Cortez,” Blaze ordered, trying to pull out of his grip. He held her closer.

“Don’t be shy. We’ll give the crowd a show they’ll never forget.”

“-look well, mutants. Once again, your own have been brought back to you. See them and rejoice, for – oh, by the Goddess!” Storm exclaimed, as her speech was interrupted by a piercing scream and a muffled explosion. She looked over to see Siena Blaze, her hands smoking, standing over a bloody splatter that had formerly been Fabian Cortez.

“Um, sorry….” She shrugged. “He grabbed my ass.”

“Fine,” Storm groaned. “Stand with your fellow mutants and let the ceremony continue.”

“Okay. Oh, hey, Shinobi! Great orgy!”

“We have to do something about this. It isn’t just the waste of resources, it’s the message we’re sending. People can’t just kill each other with impunity.” Magneto had come to consult with Xavier about the “Cortez” problem. All of his killers had been subject to investigation and some minor punishment, but the pattern seemed to suggest that Cortez himself was the problem. “Maybe we just shouldn’t bother bringing him back. The man is a snake. I should know.”

“Unacceptable,” Xavier responded calmly. “All mutant life is precious. We will waste none of it.”

“The man is a disruption.”

“He’s followed the rules so far. There are far worse people living on Krakoa than Fabian Cortez. We must treat him fairly. And I must admit, his eagerness to breed is very in line with our goals here, if he could just find a willing partner.”

“But we can’t let this ridiculous cycle of death and rebirth continue, can we? Maybe a time-out in the earth for awhile.”

Xavier leaned forward with a cryptic smile. “I believe I have a solution. And it will require only a minor psychic tweak at his next resurrection.”

At the resurrection ceremony, Fabian Cortez emerged from the pod for the seventh time in a month.

“What is your name,” Storm asked him, quietly praying he would last longer than ten minutes this time. It was all getting very repetitive.

“Fabian Cortez.”

“And how do I know that it’s you, Fabian?”

“Who else could possibly measure up to my greatness?”

“It’s you,” Storm sighed. She presented him to the crowd, which responded with muted applause, mostly from younger mutants who hadn’t met him yet.

As Fabian stood to one side while the other, much less important mutants returned from the dead, boredom began to wear on him. He’d been through this so many times, and there was only so much enjoyment he could get out of displaying his body to the crowd. He glanced around, spotting a beautiful young woman next to him with dark skin and flowing black hair. He believed Storm had introduced her to the crowd as Threnody, but he hadn’t really been paying attention. He let his eyes wander appreciatively up and down her body, then sauntered over. No harm in a friendly proposition, especially since they were both already naked. Maybe he’d finally get to participate in an island orgy.

“Hello, beautiful lady. Today is your lucky day, because you get to experience the glory that is Fabian Cortez.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. Then his mouth dropped open in shock, because the face starring back at him was his own sister, with her lighter skin and short blue hair.

“Anne Marie, I….how? Why did you look like….I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to….please forgive me…” The idea of hitting on his own sister filled Fabian with revulsion, and even the faintest hint of guilt. He hadn’t forgotten her face after she struck him down. On some level, he was perhaps apologizing for many things at once.

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about? I don’t know any Anne Marie.” His sister pulled away and stepped back, suddenly transforming back into the dark-skinned woman. “My name is Melody. I don’t know you at all.”

“I’m…sorry. I was confused for a moment.” All sorts of odd feelings were twisting around in Fabian’s stomach.

“Fabian!” A voice called from the crowd, and Anne Marie emerged, walking up towards the platform where he stood. “I’m right here.”

“Does this mean we’re on speaking terms again?” Fabian asked hopefully. Anne Marie’s mouth was still set in a hard line, but her eyes had softened a bit since he saw her last.

“Killing you was rather cathartic. I worked some things out of my system. But don’t press your luck, I’m still angry with you. There’s a reason for what you saw. Come with me and Xavier will explain everything.” Storm ignored the entire exchange as Anne Marie pulled Fabian off the stage and walked off with him. He’d come back so many times, it didn’t really matter if he stayed for the entire ceremony.

“Psychic trigger?!” Fabian exclaimed.

“Yes,” Xavier continued. Fabian and Anne Marie were meeting with him in a private room, after Fabian had thankfully been given clothing to wear. “You have been killed multiple times because you are incapable of showing the women on this island the slightest hint of respect. You let your reproductive urges lead you around.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Fabian protested. “We are meant to make more mutants. I want to do exactly that. In fact, I’ll work extremely hard at that task. Can’t you just assign me a few partners?”

“That’s not how we are going to do things here,” Xavier said firmly. “We will not go down the road of forced breeding.”

“It’s worked out okay for the Inhumans,” Fabian tried.

“No, it hasn’t. There’s a streak of instability running through the royal family, people are still born with useless or debilitating powers, and the lack of freedom has the entire society boiling over with repressed emotion. It’s no wonder Black Bolt’s brother manages to organize a coup every other month.”

Fabian shrugged. He couldn’t really argue with that. His encounters with the Inhumans had all been thoroughly unpleasant – especially that obnoxious, back-stabbing lunatic Maximus the Mad. He couldn’t believe he’d ever considered the man a convenient ally. Never again. And he definitely meant it this time.

“So, what….I’m going to see Anne Marie in every woman until I find a willing partner? That seems unfair.”

“It’s entirely fair,” said Anne Marie.

“The illusion will only kick in when you approach a woman with lust and disrespect, as you so often do. When you think of her only as a sex object, and not a separate person with her own needs and desires. Then, the psychic trigger will make her appear as the only woman you care about more than sex – your sister, Anne Marie.”

“B-b-but….how long is this meant to last? What am I to do in the meantime? A man has needs, you know.”

“There are ways to take care of your needs without bothering anyone,” Anne Marie said all too knowingly for Fabian’s tastes.

“It will last until you manage to show respect for a woman that you desire. Until you can put her needs above your own lust, and love her as a person, not a sex toy.”

“Ugh, but that could take yeeeeaaars!” Fabian whined. “So few of them are truly worthy of me.”

“It’s our solution to the disruption you’ve caused on this island. Consider yourself lucky that you are not spending time in the ground, that is much more unpleasant. But we wanted a merciful solution. I will admit, there is some value in your presence, Cortez,” Xavier continued. “Every group that has encountered you seems to have come away with stronger ties of friendship and camaraderie between them. In a way, it seems, you managed to bring people together.”

“Yes, because I have excellent leadership skills,” Fabian agreed. “And people are drawn to my strong charisma.”

“That’s….not exactly the reason why. But nonetheless, your presence has produced some positive affect. With this psychic trigger, hopefully the positive will outweigh the negative.”

Xavier dismissed them rather abruptly. Fabian sulked as he walked beside Anne Marie, heading back towards the Acolytes’ set of rooms.

“Honestly. A psychic trigger. As if I’m a child. Or an animal that must be contained.”

“Well, one part of you certainly is,” Anne Marie muttered. Fabian scoffed.

“Look, try to think of it like a fairy tale. You’re under a curse –“

“Until I find my one true love!” Fabian finished. He rather liked the idea. He was, of course, a handsome prince under a curse from a wicked sorcerer, who was just jealous of his good looks and flowing head of hair.

“Until you learn a lesson. Look, Fabian.” Anne Marie turned to face him. Her face was still stern and set with anger, but he could also see pain – carved into every line on her face. It made him feel….not so good.

“I’m not over what you did. I won’t be for a long time. It hurt. But our Lord Magneto is alive again, and so are we all. And Krakoa really is a place for new beginnings. So maybe you can be better, too. Please try. For me.”

She kissed him softly on the cheek, and walked away.

Notes:

This got slightly more serious than I intended, I just wanted a silly story where people got to kill Fabian in hilarious ways. Oh well. This also turned into an excuse to write a bunch of neglected characters that I like hanging out and occasionally sleeping together. Shinobi is definitely going to try to bang both Pyros at once. He may or may not succeed.

I don’t know all the Marvel women’s ages, but just assume that everyone Fabian hit on was at least 18. He’s a sleaze, but he’s not that much of a sleaze. Also, Meggan was probably just visiting her old Excalibur team-mates, she lives elsewhere with Brian.

#fabian cortez #shinobi shaw #pyro #avalanche #hellions #anne marie cortez #and a bunch of other characters

11 notes · View notes

early-sxnsets · 6 years ago

Text

Like A Rom-Com

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917009

Word Count: 9363

Summary: Baz Pitch doesn't think he'll ever get to love Simon Snow the way he wants to. A trope-filled weekend proves otherwise.

Carry On Countdown Day 14: Cliché

Of all places I thought I'd ever find myself, sitting on a train beside Simon Snow on a Thursday night is not exactly at the top of my list

There's plenty of more seemingly plausible situations I could be in. For example, a ditch, or in the middle of Mumbai without my mobile and only one shoe. Or, better yet, the goddamn moon. But, no, I’m in a seat beside him, our three-days worth of overnight bags tucked up into the slots above us as we sit in complete and utter silence.

I didn't even get the window seat. He took it first, and despite my protests, he told me to “Suck it”, then sat there.

I'm starting to wonder why I got myself into this. Why I asked Simon Snow of all people to do this. We aren't even fond of each other’s presence (well, on the surface; dare I admit further). Yet, with all our past squabbling aside, here we are. About to spend a whole convention under a façade of a relationship purely as a ploy for money. Theoretically, I should feel disgusted over my actions, but instead I’m a tad proud of how easy it was to get Snow to cave and help me. All it took was telling him the event would include a free banquet, then suddenly he was all there for it.

“I don't see why you wanted me to come, though,” he'd brought up on the platform, wearing his dark green bomber jacket. “I mean, of all other student leaders, you really thought of me?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and turning my head towards the wind. “Don't flatter your capabilities, Snow. You're simply a pretty face to look at, andyou're incredibly sociable.”

“Sociable, am I?” he grinned, nudging me with his elbow, making my head snap towards him and throwing him a somewhat convincing look of disgust.

“To those who don't find you undyingly insufferable, sadly, yes.”

I'm surprised at how hard it is to really insult him. Sure, we’re at each other's throats all the time during charity events and whatnot. Supposed to promote positivity and show up as the student leaders of the school, but I may have once tripped him and sent him flying into a plate of cocktail shrimp (give it to him to somehow make that charming, though). Once, he took the piss to ask me how I got to my positions of power by just buying everyone else off the council.

I'll give it to him, people like him. That's why I've got him sitting beside me on this rattling train instead of anyone else on campus, but he seems to dismiss any mere hint of hard work. It must sound foreign to him, to have to work towards a place of respect.

People fear me. They always have. But I don't get here out of fear, I get here out of work built from furthering that fear into respect. Goddamn full time job.

“So,” he pipes up, yanking his earbud out as his head swivels to face me. “What do I have to do exactly ?”

“Look pretty. Smile and nod, make people care about us. At least, during the banquet and the aftermath. Feel free to be as aloof as you usually are for the rest of the conference--sleep in the hotel room, for all I care.”

He twists the cords to the earbuds, eyes casting downwards before rising back up to me. “What conference is it, again?”

I can't help but roll my eyes at him. It isn't like I explained twice already. “Social Awareness and Activism.”

He nods, letting it process before his face contorts into a frown. “Hey, wait! Why wasn't I invited, then?”

“Because” I begin, not even giving him the satisfaction of my gaze as I stare ahead. “You're student council. I lead the Gender and Sexualities Association and lest you forget, I run the Diversities office.”

He lets that one slide, because he knows he definitely doesn't have me beat in this one. Student Council pricks usually have such an air of superiority over us. Arseholes.

“That's why you asked me to be your fake date…” he says, absolutely more to himself, but still making me scoff as loudly as I physically can.

“Dear god, please tell me you did not just now figure out I'm gay,” I mumble, my head falling into my hand as my fingers pinch my bridge. My head turns to a completely oblivious Snow shrugging at me. “What, a closet full of florals and the rainbow pin on my satchel never gave it away?”

“I… I don't like to assume…” he shrugs, looking back out the window before turning back to me quickly. “It's all fine, by the way!”

“Wow, I'm absolutely delighted that you give me your blessing to be queer,” I monotone, staring at him. It does matter, though. Just a bit, but it does.

That properly shuts him up.

The rest of the ride starts off awkward, but eventually he falls asleep, arms crossed over his chest as his mouth gapes open. He breathes with his mouth, like some dog.

In all honesty, I wish I wasn't in love with him. It's so ridiculously unfortunate that it came to this mess being the one I long after. Granted, he's ridiculously handsome in that nearly crossline between rugged and ‘Perfect Man’ way. He obviously forgets to shave regularly, but his stubble comes out a soft blonde (like right now). He's got knick scars over his hands, injury marks from years of use, and lasting muscles to prove it. His hair always seems a mess, but in the most innocent of ways. It always seems so soft, so thick.

He's one of those straight guys you hate to love. The kind that you had a class or two with, but never spoke to; the kind you see on campus with his girlfriend at his arm. Or, used to. Heard that's history.

I steal a long look at him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I hope it's history.

Maybe this will be like one of those cliché rom-coms where he warms up to me over a weekend of exposure and suddenly, he figures out he's loved me too this entire time, he just wasn't ready to come to terms with it.

With a groan, his head turns in his sleep and faces towards the window. With that, his neck shows on full display, revealing that little mole, right below his ear, that I've had on mind since I noticed it. I map it out with my eyes, cheeks flushing in the slightest as my mind runs over what I'd do if I just had the opportunity…

The train screeches to a stop, pulling into the last station from ours.

Brilliant.

My hand rests against Snow's forearm, resisting the urge to curl around his bicep as I give him a jostle. “Snow,” I start gently before clearing my throat and saying “Snow” clearly. He jerks aware, eyes flying open and glancing around before landing on my face. I feel him relax underneath me. I'm still holding his arm.

“Nearly there?” he groans groggily, eyes drooping closed again.

“Sort of,” I say without my usual bite, stretching my arms. “maybe 10 minutes more, 15.”

He just gives me a nod, eyes running over the cabin as he yawns. “Do we have anything to do tonight?”

I shake my head as I pack away my (untouched) book. “No.” I punctuate it with the snap of my satchel pocket. “We check into the hotel, and I have to check in with the coordinator. I have a half an hour introduction, then I'm free.”

“I could go to the introduction with you,” he offers, no hints of hesitation in his voice. Throws me off a bit.

“You don't need to.” I don't tell him no. I don't have to. I don't want to.

“I want to,” he says bluntly, throwing me for a fucking curveball. I gape at him shamelessly for a second before he finishes it (with a little delay), “I mean, it'll make our couple play a lot more believable, right?”

Sure. That. “You're not wrong,” I relent, standing as the wheels squeal against the harsh metal. I steady myself against a seat as the train pulls into the station, reaching for the bags and settling them down wordlessly. Simon takes his cue and grabs his own, following me as I wheel it off towards the exit.

“We'll need to get a cab,” I say, awkwardly patting for my phone as we follow the exit signs within the station. “Hotel's not far, it's just that I'm not too keen on a half an hour walk right now.”

Leave it to Snow to flag a cab in less than three minutes. All it takes is for him to flash his gorgeous smile and one comes to a halt right in front of us.

After tossing our bags in the boot, I glance up to see Snow, holding the door with gentlemanly grace and an unmistakably friendly grin. “Come on, then,” he urges, trying to wave me inside.

Leave it to Snow to make my heart skip a beat.

The ride there is awfully brief, but I tip the driver generously, sliding out and hurriedly drawing our belongings out before taking a silent second to myself. This is fine. Everything will be fine.

Everything would be fine if Snow stopped staring at me as if I were bonkers.

“What?” I snap, crinkling my nose in his direction.

“I… it’s just…” he stutters back, eyes shooting wide as he searches for an answer. “you look… like you're thinking about something. That's all.”

I tame my expression back, inhaling sharply before pushing past with my suitcase dragging behind me. “Piss off.” That's all I really manage, a halfhearted ‘piss off’.

For the first time today, I feel like this truly might’ve been a mistake.

The inside lobby’s quite nice; reminds me a little too much of my dining room at home, with the chandelier and all, but it's welcoming.

“Double room under Pitch,” I tell the concierge, fingers drumming rhythmically against the marble countertop. My eyes drift, looking up and around but never forward. Not until the typing stops and I’m greeted with a friendly grin as the room key cards slide across towards me.

“You're room 1124, continental breakfast runs from 6-10, and your checkout time is Sunday at noon. Any questions?”

“No,” I say quickly, pocketing the cards and nodding my head as I thank her before making a b-line towards the elevators. Luckily, Snow seems to know when to shut up.

Unluckily, maybe I should've spoken up earlier.

“A double bed,” I breathe, staring at the single queen sized bed against the wall. “Not… a double room…”

I feel Snow’s eyes turn towards me from over my shoulder as I flush a deep red, groaning and running a hand through my hair to push it back (despite the fact that I slick it).

“I… can sleep on the couch?”

“For three nights? Nonsense; you’ll kill your back, then I’ll have to listen to you complain the whole trip back.”

“Then what do you suppose we do?”

Shit. Maybe I am getting my terrible rom-com. “The beds large enough to share…”

I watch as he steps into the room, his bag dropping beside the dresser as his hand smooths against the sheet. “Suppose I'm fine with that, so long as you are too?”

Fine? With sharing the bed with most likely the most attractive man I’ve ever met? “It's bearable.”

With a nod, he stands back up and stretches. “I take the left side,” he calls out, strolling in front of me and into the bathroom, closing himself inside and leaving me motionless at the doorway. This cannot be happening. I refuse to believe that this, this very event is occurring. If it wasn’t strange enough to be going on a trip and acting in a fake relationship with Snow, it’s even worse that I’m sharing a bed with him.

I feel like it’s only a second between when he closes the door before stepping back out. As he comes back into view, he’s wiping his hands on a hand towel and looking at me like I grew a second head. “What’re you still doing there?” he asks, frowning a tad. I want to wipe the look clean off his face.

“I’m… nothing. Thinking.”

He grins at me with all his teeth, like a fucking sunbeam. “Well, stop that. Don’t you have an introductory session to get to?”

I snap out of my daze, blinking rapidly before settling my belongings inside. “Are you sure you want to come?” I ask, fixing my hair in the mirror as I send side-eyed glances at him. “You don’t have to…”

“I think it’d be best if I do.” He stretches in the middle of the room, cracking his back before jumping (why do straight men do that?)

I can’t help but roll my eyes and grab my key card, thumb running over the back as I send bored glances at him. “Can we leave yet?”

He nods, bounding out the door in front of me and bouncing down the hall.

As we exit the elevator, I feel something press against my lower back. At a glance, I realize that it’s Snow’s hand, settling against my shirt and giving off the clear implication that there is something definitely between us. Clever, but heartstopping.

He keeps it there as I sign in, following me to the conference room and settling in the seat beside me with his arm resting delicately around my shoulders. It’s nearly too overwhelming; the proximity, the publicness. I’d assumed, when I invited him, that it’d simply be a one-night show we’d put on. Go through dinner, act cordial enough to seem like we’re a plausible couple, then remain in a state of disdain and turbulence until we both graduate and proceed to never see each other again.

I had not considered, though, that he’d go above and beyond in this ‘fake relationship’ business. Especially not to the point where he is now with a hand settled against the back of my head, threading in between strands of my hair. I send him a look, eyebrows knit together as I try to read whatever’s on his face.

It’s like his handwriting; unreadable.

Another thing I had not considered, though, was the possibility that Penelope Bunce would be at this event too.

I don’t think Simon thought so either, because the moment we both spot her, his hand yanks out of my hair and he sits bolt upright. As if he was caught with his tongue down my throat (I’m allowed to have fantasies).

She’s rushing over, face riddled with confusion and a tad amount of amusement. Her mouth opens to say something as she stops, hands on her hips, but Simon’s already cutting her off.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” he calls innocently, eyes wide and puppy-like, almost like Bunce is his mother or something.

“Of course I’m here; I told you I was going to a conference this weekend, Simon.” Her eyes flick between us before she laughs. “Holy fuck, how did Inot see this? Si, you could’ve just told me you two--”

“What? N--” he stops himself, flinching in his spot before shooting up to stand. “Let’s, uh, find somewhere else to talk.”

The expressions coming from Bunce’s face are priceless, especially the way she gapes as she’s pulled away, head turned towards me as I wave goodbye.

Snow looks like he’s had the shit beaten out of him when he gets back.

Not physically, but he definitely looks shaken while Bunce just looks a bit pleased with herself. In all honesty, she could easily take over the world and destroy it in under a week, if she wanted to. Instead, she’s off getting her English degree with a minor in Women’s Studies. Fascinating.

She sits herself on the other side of me, leaving Simon to settle against my arm after she laid it out on him. “So, Basilton,” she hums, “clever idea, really.” She curls a hand around the cuff of my sleeve and yanks, pulling me down so only I’m in earshot as she glares daggers at me. “But if you so much as hurt Simon, I will make sure that you’ll never find your precious styling products anywhere in this town again.”

I truly hate to admit that I actually gasp at that. As in an audible, full on gasp. Like some pathetic fucking twink that I refuse to be labelled purely as. “I’ll buy it online then, Bunce.” She’s still downright terrifying, though.

She just grins and turns her head forward, mumbling something about it being an interesting weekend as the speaker comes on. Slowly, I feel Snow's arm snake back around my shoulders, simply resting on my neck this time. Over time, his thumb starts absentmindedly stroking the skin it's resting on, but it doesn't go further from there. Although undeniably comforting, the looks he’s getting from Bunce are, mildly put, unsettling.

Thank fuck it's over before I know it. There's a cheesy joke about travel exhaustion before the round of applause fills the crowd. My head slowly turns to face Snow’s, heart racing as his fingertips trail my hairline. “Let's head back to the room? I think there's room service…” And Bunce is nerving me out.

Retracting his hand, he stretches and nods. “Sounds good.” He practically leaps to his feet, throwing a smile at Bunce and cheerful giving a goodnight hug as I stand at my leisure.

As we make our get-away, I can feel her eyeing us up from behind. It feels like I’m a guilty party; like I've got some ulterior motives. Honestly, Iwish I was suave enough to have them. If I could just plan a weekend away with Snow in the expectation of him falling in love with me, then I'd just retire my education and turn to a life of magic, because I'd have to have him under a spell to make that work.

On the way to the elevator, though, Snow makes a tug at my sleeve, stopping me in my tracks. Raising my brows, my mouth starts to form a “What?”, but gets cut off before it even starts.

“I'm not too tired, if you want to go sit down…?”

I look sideways at him, blinking and letting myself process it. “Get dinner. You want to get dinner?”

“Well… yeah? We're here, and there's a place in the hotel.”

From a moment's glance, there’s nobody in sight (nor earshot, for that matter) here to witness it, so I’m not really sure why he's asking me to get dinner with him rather than stuffing away in the room where we can avoid each other on our phones. In fact, it'd be significantly easier for him to tell me to fuck off and go eat dinner by himself. But, no. He's asking me to sit down with him.

“Fine, but let's not take forever.”

A drink or two (or three) later, I don't care about time anymore. There's only two things I care about; Simon Snow's foot touching my leg, and Simon Snow himself.

He polishes off his drink (I can't remember, 2nd or 3rd), wetting his lips as he runs a hand through his curls. “What’d you think about soulmates?”

It's an innocent enough question. After all, what do I think about about soulmates? The question’s easy enough to answer, and the way his face has been pink and smile grows even looser makes me wonder which response I wanna give him. Reasonable-brained Baz would probably say something protective and flat enough to drive away any admissions of feelings..

I'm not quite Reasonable-Baz right now, though. “I think it's a thing,” I mumble into my glass, sipping slowly and meeting his eye as it settles back onto the table. It’s the cosmopolitan speaking through me. “Not like… something stupid, like everyone’s off to be destined to love someone because they're star-matched or whatever the fuck. No red string of fate. It’s just… people matching. And they always match. Not perfect, but complements to each other.”

He's staring at me like I've said something profound, but I’m not entirely sure what came out as coherent and what else came out as an intoxicated slur.

“So…” My elbows rest against the table in terrible etiquette, chin settling on my palms. “Your go.”

“I… I was… well… that string thing. I'd heard it, and I think it’s somethin’ like that, yeah?” His knee bumps back into mine, shooting tingling down my leg. “Like you've got a pull to your soulmate.”

“A pull?”

He nods as he waves for another drink, eating off the last of my chips. I think he’s bound to polish them off.

“Like it’s in your gut. It yanks you forward, more and more, until you get that meeting it wants.”

Is it a joke? Who knows if it's a joke, but shit, I laugh at it anyway. “W'don't live in a fantasy world, Snow. Wish we did, but it's not Harry Potter.”

Snow pouts in somewhat an endearing way, studying my face as he shoves another few chips into his mouth. The server drops off another drink, to which Simon draws his attention to as if it's the most lovely thing he's ever seen in his life. I wish he'd look at me like that.

His face lazily lifts, smile keeping as he stares across at me. “I… think you're a Hufflepuff.”

“Dear God, Snow, you're smashed. Stop talking.”

“Noooo!” he complains, hand reaching out and resting over mine. “You're friendly under all that mean boy bullshit!”

Someone at a nearby table throws a glare at us, and suddenly I remember we're not quite alone.

Without much thought, I turn my hand over and slowly drag my fingers down Snow's palm. He shivers against me. “I'm a Ravenclaw. The test said so,” I murmur, my voice dropping to the privacy of just him and I.

I choose to believe his blush is in my imagination.

He takes a long drink, fingers dragging back before threading forward and interlocking between mine. “‘M Gryffindor.”

“No shit,” I laugh, suddenly becoming aware of how we're sitting. Leaned forward, heads much closer than they were before. The scent of hard cider and fried chips waft off him. I hate to admit that it makes my heart race faster.

After minutes of what's most likely just an odd closeness, I find myself stopping whatever this is. With a wave to the waiter, they stop by and run our room key through.

Snow's hand keeps against mine, his eyes locked on me and starting to sag with drunken tiredness.

He stays like that, all the way up to our floor.

The chime of the elevator makes me bump his shoulder, urging him out into the hall. “Come on, Simon.”

He jerks himself upright, blinking back to somewhat coherence before following me to the room. I swipe us in, letting him dislodge from my side as he throws himself onto the bed fully dressed.

After a run to the bathroom, changing into my flannel bottoms and a tee, it hits me that Snow's probably planning to pass out like this.

“Hey,” I whisper, practically pushed up to his side. He lifts his head, squinting at me curiously. It takes a second to realize his eyes pinpointed to my lips. “Don't you need to change?”

Sleepily, he closes his eyes again and shrugs, head falling towards mine. His forehead brushes against me.

“M’ fine,” he whispers, “‘m sleepy…”

In this moment, it'd be so easy to just reach out and touch his hair. I can feel it now, tickling against my hairline as he curls up into himself.

“Can… you get my shoes?” he slurs, feet wiggling.

I think I really love him.

I love him so much that I'm unlacing his Converse, sat up at the end of the bed and settling them aside. My hand steals a brush against his calf, mind not completely working as I tug it a little.

He gasps somewhat under his breath. “Y'can take off my clothes, if you want…”

I more than fucking want to.

I'm respectful, of course, but fucking hell, I want this man to rip me to shreds.

I don't let on, though. Respectfully, my eyes advert as I take my time to help him undress, ignoring the frankly obnoxious amount that I’m blushing.

“Thanks,” Snow mumbles as he yanks up the sweats I'd handed to him. “M a bit trashed.”

“A bit?”

He giggles. He sounds like sunshine feels. “Maybe a bit more than a bit.” An arm lazily throws across the bed and pats. “Lay down. Sleep.”

Somewhere in him, he must be a fucking genie, because I'm following his commands.

One of my hands moves down and drags the blankets on top of us, the hand resting in the middle of our empty space.

It's so odd to hear him breathe. To witness him live so openly and so close.

I want all of it.

I want this forever.

My body, though, doesn't. I don't remember falling asleep, but waking up feels like a bitch.

The room's loud. Why is the room so loud?

Oh, fuck, that's my alarm.

I slide it off, tiredly rubbing my eyes and dragging myself upright. Beside me, Snow's groaning and covering his face with an elbow. “‘S too bright,” he complains, turning away from the light.

It's sort of endearing to watch him like this. Although, honestly, it'd be more endearing if my head wasn't thumping.

After rifling through my bag for far too long, I grab out some pain relievers and swallow them with a cupped handful of tap water. Not ideal, granted, but helpful.

After painfully getting through my morning routine, I stand at the end of the bed in a full day's outfit with crossed arms and a pointed glare. With a clearing of my throat, Snow jolts awake and lowers his arm to look at me. “The fuck you want?”

“I'd much like to actually get breakfast, and if you'd wish to join me for some seminars, I'd recommend getting up now.”

“Y'had me at breakfast.” Scrubbing his face, his legs swing over the side of the bed and kick a little. “Do I have to dress like a tit?”

“And wearing a hoodie with jeans every day of your life doesn't make you a tit?”

He just huffs in response.

It isn't hard to get him to breakfast, but it's a bit difficult to get him out of it. Eventually, though, he relents (while stuffing three napkin-wrapped muffins into his hoodie).

The seminars aren't exactly enthralling; everything discussed is relatively baseline. I have a tendency to educate myself without an outside source, but there is one major benefit to attending them. Snow's hand has not left my hair in the past hour and a half. Well, that’s when he’s not eating the food he’s snuck in. I want to call him a pig, but at the same time, he offers me half the muffin and I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.

I'm relatively sure that I've been purring when he rubs the back of my head. I don't know this for sure, but fucking hell, it feels like I most likely have been.

Even when we do move, he settles his hand on my lower back, sending my nerve ablaze. It's a tad self-indulgent, but I feel myself drift closer to him as we walk, subtly placing my hand onto his shoulder and rubbing back and forth slowly. Every movement makes my heart race a bit more than I think I’ll ever admit.

They provide lunch, and Snow ends up eating half of mine as we discuss what we just listened to.

“So people don’t just know not to be dicks to each other?” he says through a mouthful of sandwich, not bothering to swallow before he goes off.

“Some people don’t know, no.”

“Well that’s bullshit and I don’t like it.”

My cheeks tease a smile, warming to a mild blush. “Well, I feel like I’m obligated to agree on the premise.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, taking a few more bites before managing to chew thoughtfully and swallow before speaking again. “Was your mum as outspoken about this stuff?”

It throws me a bit off guard, making me nearly drop the apple in my hand. “How do you know about my mother?”

“I… well... um…”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

“I went to your speech last year.” The words tumble out of him, nearly jumbling in the process. “The one where you talked about inclusivity on campus and all that shit--not shit! Just, you know, stuff. And well, you’d mentioned your mum was the first non-white president of the uni and I was just wondering if she was as vocal as you are. That’s all.”

While he’s talking, my heart starts swelling. For starters, he actually went to my speech (which just saying he did doesn’t fully make sense as to why he went), but he was also listening to it. It just sounds unbelievable.

My weight shifts. “Yes, she was,” I begin, dropping in volume and sounding softer than the typical voice I use with him. “She was always honest and so, so bold. She’d give speeches fairly regularly, too. It’s a shame I never really got to see her in action, thought.”

As I speak, I nervously fiddle with the empty sugar packet from my coffee and wait for him to do something, anything to make this easier.

That something, apparently, is his hand reaching out to grab mine (which doesn’t really make it easier on me, since it makes my heart explode into a swarm to fluttering butterflies).

“I’m sorry you never got that chance,” he says ever-so-softly, sweeping my hand over and resting ours together, palm-to-palm. I’m afraid he can read my pulse. “If it makes you feel any better, I never met my mum. Or my da, for that matter.”

“Oh.” Orphaned. That... sort of makes sense.

He just nods to that, shrugging his neverendingly complicated I’m-Doing-This-Instead-Of-Talking shrug. It makes me want to sneer.

I don’t, though. I hold myself back, pulling my lips back into my mouth and biting to keep them shut.

I don’t suffer in silence too long, as everyone else around us starts wrapping up and heading off to the next seminar. We both catch a gaze at Bunce as she converses with a table of students, seeming enthralled with her discussion. It’s easy to tell that Snow’s a bit disappointed, but I squeeze his hand in subtle reassurance that he’s not a backup (I don’t mention that she saw us holding hands while coming in, therefore avoided us).

The rest of the day is just as much as a bore as the start, and we don’t bother with a big dinner like the night before, either. Instead, we both silently retire back to the room and I phone for some takeout while we put on the telly. Flipping through channels provide a true bore of a time, though, so ultimately we just end up talking again.

And talking. And talking.

And break for dinner, and talking, and talking.

A few days ago, I wouldn’t image we’d have so much to talk about, but now he’s laughing at a story I’ve got about a teacher we both happened to have, just for separate classes. He’s got such a brilliant laugh; it’s one of those kinds that tosses his head back and fills the room with a deep, mirthful wave. It amazes me how much he’s relaxed, sprawled back in a tee and his jeans, which are now without his belt. Makes my heart race just watching him be happy and makes my head spin even more with just knowing that it’s in my presence alone. I wish I could bottle it and it keep it in my pocket for harder days.

Before we know it, it’s half past one and we can barely keep our eyes open. But, nonetheless, we sleepily mumbling back and forths with heavily blinking eyes and soft smiles. Thank god he changed himself into pajamas tonight, and I did so while he was taking a brief shower a few hours ago. Now we’re simply laying here, albeit incredibly closer than we were the last night. I can nearly touch him; if only I extended a hand out, I could brush it against his ankle, since he’s got his legs pulled in.

We speak between yawns, not really having much in particular to talk about in depth without

In the pale moonlight shining through the drawn curtains, I can see the outline of Simon’s head slowly lifting from his pillow, propping up at his elbow. “You know,” he says, “I don’t know if I’m straight or not.” He’s stretching back out now, feet brushing mine as they extend downwards on the bed.

I smile mostly because I know he can’t really see me in the shadow of his own head. “Why do you say that, Snow?”

“Well, I’ve never snogged a bloke.”

“You think that’s the qualifying factor to make you queer?”

“Not make me queer, but I wonder if snogging a bloke would make me realize something in one way or another.”

I shouldn’t be answering. “Well, why don’t you try?” It comes out as a whisper, eyes searching his nearly unreadable shadowed face.

His shoulders shift, the fabric of his tee straining at his side. “I dunno,” he says hushedly back, sounding closer than before. Even through the weight of my tired eyes, I can tell he’s getting closer now. “Why don’t I?”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I freeze. My limbs go all tingly and numb as my mind races to various ends. Is he trying to say he wants to snog me? It’s probably some sick joke to make me flustered and maybe a little turned on (which thankfully he probably doesn’t know, since I’m on my side/stomach and my legs are laying a bit oddly to press my hips to the bed). Or, maybe, he’s just losing his mind.

As he draws closer, I can barely feel myself breathe. It’s his breath that’s clear as day. “Can I kiss you, Baz?” he utters, eyes lowering to my lips. I want to catch his with mine.

I want something that's been offered, and I’ll take it even if it’s a joke.

So, despite all reservations, I nod anyway.

He takes a full moment’s pause, head looming closer before brushing his lips against mine.

Heart pounding out of my chest and mind reeling, I kiss him back completely on impulse (or, rather, poor impulse). Every part of my body feels like it’s simultaneously in an ice bath and set on fire, but he’s snogging me back and doing this nice thing with his chin that I really want him to do again and fucking hell, is it hot in here? Or freezing? Perhaps both?

He draws back after a minute or so, face barely moving inches away from mine as his body shifts closer. The sheets between us gather, pinching like my gut as his knee raises up and brushed against my outer thigh. There’s seconds of silence within the movements between us, his hand slowly raising up and brushing some hair off my check before settling there. I reach out unsurely, hand resting on his chest as his head lies closer and lifts to look up at me. His heart’s racing out of control, a horse loose off it’s track.

This time, he doesn’t ask. His nose brushes against mine, causing my breath to hitch in a way it’s never gone before, and he takes that as the proper sign to kiss me again.

Thank fuck he does.

We kiss for what feels like hours, his hand eventually running back to my hair and holding the spot he’d had it in earlier today. Mine travels down a bit, pushing away his shirt and resting against his side.

We kiss our lips chapped and tire ourselves out, and even then some. Even as I struggle to stay awake and he’s let back to yawn a few times, we still keep chasing back for exhaustedly excited presses of lips and teases of tongue.

Eventually, though, he’s smiling so tiredly against me that his head falls back and eyes stay shut as he breathes out an “‘M passing out.”

I can’t manage a word right now. I don’t quite know anything about words anymore, except for the very real fact that they’re slipping my tongue.

So, instead, I nod my head and study his face. Just enough of it’s lit, showing the grin on his cheeks as he falls asleep without saying another word.

He keeps pressed to me, though. His hand’s still in my hair, and the leg that was previously thrown over mine is now where it was when we ended; between my thighs.

That’s how we wake up, too.

Except, this time, when my alarm goes off, he’s the one to answer it.

I watch as he swipes it off, looking down at me with a flushed, guilty face as I squint up to him.

It doesn’t last, though, because he seems to answer it with a shove of his lips against mine.

We snog for maybe ten minutes before he pulls himself back with a panicked face. At first, I think he’s about to go absolutely bonkers on me and say some ridiculous shit to break my heart, but instead says the most Simon Snow thing I think anyone could ever say. “Shit, when’s breakfast ending?”

I gawk at him, squinting before saying “10” with a gravely, sleep-filled voice. I don’t even bother to clear it away. “My alarm sets for eight, there’s time.”

He looks absolutely disgusted at that notion. “I can’t eat breakfast in an hour; that’s practically stuffing and running.”

Honest to god, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone get up as fast as he is now.

To cover my probably clear disappointment (and, well, semi I’ve got going), I scoff and roll my eyes as him as he shuffles his body into jeans. “You’re like a bloody Hobbit, Snow. Can’t stop eating.”

He grins at me, grabbing a pair of my trousers from my suitcase and throwing them at my head. “Come on, slowpoke.”

And just like that, it’s not spoken of.

Not through breakfast. Not through the time in between the morning seminars. Not through lunch, either.

He does the same things as the day before; his hand plays with my hair and we hold onto each other while shifting places, but it feels so different today. Every time he touches me, my mind goes completely blank as my heart beats out of control. As if it weren’t bad enough when he did it before, it’s even worse now that we’ve done that .

Whatever that was, anyway.

Fucking hell, what was that? We snogged until we get too tired to even keep awake, and then some.

If I had half a mind, I’d say we woke up in an alternate timeline where we actually are boyfriends, since he’s doing everything he would be doing if he truly was mine. Except, right now, I have no clue as to why this is all happening. He isn’t treating the situation as odd either, which is what throws me off entirely. He’s still chatting about anything and everything else; he’s laughing with my jokes and he’s frowning when I say something sharp, but there’s a new twinkle in his eye whenever I make a biting commentary. It’s the sort of look you give a cat when they’re being an arsehole.

When we finish the afternoon seminars and get dismissed to prepare for the banquet, I find myself jolting at the sudden wrap of his arm around my middle. He starts to draw back at first, but I quickly press my hand to his and keep it against my hip, not daring to look him in the eyes as I press the going up button for the elevator firmly.

The ride’s unnervingly silent, especially with the fiddling of Snow’s hand against my belt loops. He makes my heart pound without much, driving me absolutely mad at each of his subtle movements.

Back in the room, he lets the door slowly swing shut as I go to grab our suits from where they’re hanging in the dresser. The moment it’s clicked shut, though, I find the everliving chaotic energy of his presence right behind me and closing in.

Gently, a kiss falls to my shoulder blade. I shiver unintentionally.

“How long have we got?”

For once, I’m the one choked for words. “W-well, we should be down there by six, and it’s nearly three right now. I was planning on showering before it starts, and probably doing my hair properly, and--”

He’s turning me around as I ramble, hands settling on my hips before shutting me up with a kiss.

He’s good at that. Not just the kissing thing, but the making me stop thinking thing, too.

I give in completely, legs basically turning to jelly as I duck down. I feel him lower back to his feet (as he was originally on his tiptoes to plant the kiss to me), hands keeping tightly to my hips.

I let him untuck my shirt and press to the skin, rounding his hands around my back and tugging me closer towards him.

At this rate, I’d say fuck the dinner. Fuck anything else about everything. I don’t care that we haven’t talked about this, I don’t care about the veryreal possibility that Snow’s using me to experiment his sexuality on in full disregard to my feelings, I don’t care that this could all be a ploy to make me seem weak. I want this to never stop.

It has to, though. I know it has to.

I firmly plant my hands to his shoulders, keeping him still as I pull away. “I really do need to shower.”

For a split second, I’m half convinced he’s going to ask to join (to which I wouldn’t say no, obviously), but I’m fairly sure he decides that’s a poor idea, too.

So, instead, he relents with a nod of his head and a searing peck of his lips to my cheek. It makes me blush like mad.

I spend my entire shower rushing to get out, scrubbing my hair and losing myself in the thought of what’s to happen after this ends. I’m fairly certain that this isn’t going to leave this hotel, but it’s nice to even fantasize the thought of him in my bed, stripped down to his boxers and laughing like he did last night.

Not fucking me, although that’d be a nice follow-up, but just laughing. Sharing a good moment, just him and I, and not letting ourselves fall back into our old habits.

It’s such a weird wet dream to have; to want him to be happy. Most people think about getting plowed in the back of their car or snogging somone senseless against a wall, but with Simon, I just want to see him smile. (Disclaimer, I’ve gone through the motions of wanting him to take me in every situation and position possible, but I was a different man. That was pre-snog Baz).

I go through a routine of blow drying and styling my hair, brushing my teeth again and making myself as aesthetically proper as I can be before stepping out of the room and immediately getting the wind knocked from my lungs.

Snow’s standing in the middle of the room, looking himself up and down in the body mirror dressed up in the suit I’d bought for him.

It’s not perfectly tailored; it’s slightly too tight in the middle, and his shoulders are a bit too unexpectedly broad, but it looks really fucking good on him.

I’ve got to bite my lip from gasping.

“Looks proper,” I let myself say, heart skipping a beat as his head snaps up towards me and grows to a quick grin. As I pass by to grab my own suit, I’m floored by a quick peck on my cheek and a cheeky smile.

He’s going to be the death of me.

I grab my clothes and change in the bathroom, dropping the towel and carefully pulling on layer after layer.

I tie my shoes outside of the room, trying to forget that of course, Snow’s ‘fancy shoes’ are decades old Docs that look like they could very easily be Fi’s.

“Ready?” I ask, making sure I’ve got my cell and room key in my pockets.

He nods, arm looping around mine wordlessly before he drags us out.

Dinner’s… dinner. The food’s pretty good, and Snow and I make easy conversation with the people at the table (as in, Snow starts it with something friendly, then shuts up for most of it as I say intellectual shit and he just rubs my thigh under the table for some unknown, mind boggling reason). We drink a good amount of wine, we laugh, and talk some more.

Then continue to talk around once it ends, mingling within the crowd.

Snow works like a bloody charm. He strikes up cheerful conversations with them, then we all talk for a bit before they hand me a business card with a happy shake of my hand or a clasp on my shoulder.

Soon enough, there’s plenty of people wanting to sponsor events and fundraisers, ranging from donating to involvement. On top of that, there’s countless people coming up to us and ending our conversations with “You make such a cute couple.”

Each time, Snow ends it with an “I know”, arm tugging me closer.

I’m a bit tipsy, so I just lean into him and grin my face off (it feels weird to smile so openly).

After an hour or so, it starts to die down. The attendees are ignored by the workers cleaning the tables, so I slip away from Snow for a second as he chats with an enthusiastic woman, telling him I’m off to the loo. In reality, I’m just sneaking a couple bottles of wine and holding them as subtly as possible in my suit jacket (which is, for note, not subtle at all).

Snow’s alone when I’m done, so I just grab his hand, stuff a bottle into it, and whisper “Run”.

We both break it to make our getaway, nodding to people as we start to quickly head off to our room. Nobody notices us, or more realistically, cares to stop two sort-of drunk early 20s blokes running off with somewhat okay bottles of wine.

In the elevator, we exchange wide eyed grins before bursting into laughter that quickly draws tears from our eyes and makes our stomachs ache from strain. We’re laughing the whole way back to the room, too, and leaning on each other for support as I search for the door key.

It buzzes us through, letting us stumble inside and set the stolen bottles on the coffee table.

After resting mine after his, I feel his hand sweep under my suit jacket and yank me close that way. We’re still laughing, my face planting into his hair and savoring my sweet moment’s luxury.

“Pop them open,” I whisper into him, pressed up close. “I wanna make a toast.”

He giggles and nods compliantly, letting go of me and pouting at the corked tops before rooting around in his backpack for a minute.

As he’s doing whatever it is that he is, I’m untying my shoes and half-throwing them across the room towards my bag, untying my tie and letting it hang around my neck as my jacket finds itself on the floor, too.

I hear a pop as my eyes shut, and soon enough Snow’s looming over me with two opened bottles of white wine.

I take one, scooting to the side and turing my knees onto the bed as I grin at him. He tries to raise his brows in a mock and mimic of me, but it instead looks like he’s shocked (I want to kiss the look off his face).

“A toast,” I begin, giggling before fully raising it to him. “To successfully finessing a room full of rich arses to give the gays some money.”

He smile widely to that, cheeks creasing as he raises his bottle and gently knocks it into mine. “To taking money.”

We both down about half the bottle before I end up in his lap, having him play with my hair as I recite as much of Hamlet as I can remember (given I was in a production when I was 16). He’s silent, this big grin stretched across his face as I glaze over chunks of scenes with “And fuck Claudius” or “and Hamlet, who was fucking hot in the movie”. I break between scenes and take a gulp of my wine, as compares to Snow who sips his throughout.

Easy to say, by the end of the play, we’re both completely plastered.

Our mostly empty bottles end up on our nightstands as I dive my face into his stomach and nuzzle shamelessly. Any ounce of dignity that I’d once held is absolutely gone now, filled instead with unequivocal adoration.

He clearly doesn’t mind, though, because I can feel the chuckle as I grin into him, and the tug of his hand in my hair sends me to sit upright as the room spins around me. I laugh, because I can’t stop myself.

Even as I’m wrinkling my nose to snort, Snow’s leaning closer and quickly steal a kiss from my lips.

Everything stops. My heart’s soaring, and I’m opening my eyes. “We’re drunk,” I remind, mostly slurring as I lurch forward.

I know that doesn’t fully apply.

“Do you want me to stop?” he breath’s hot on my face, smelling entirely of alcohol and the chocolate cake he’d had for dessert.

I should say no, I should say no.

“Just don’t go below the belt,” I whisper, because I’m the weakest man on Earth, and I’m the one leading the kiss this time.

It’s a little strange, since every time we’ve kissed so far, it’s been with his initiative.

Frankly, I was worried that he’d think I was taking advantage of him as a gay guy. But, now with all the alcohol in my bloodstream and how soft he looks bathed in the glowing yellow lamp-light of the room, I push away all inhibitions for the sake of one last night of having him hold me like that.

I lead fully this time, feeling his hand take hold of the ends of my tie, yanking me closer as I kiss him with everything I’ve got in me.

With every bit I give him, he gives me double that.

His hands find themselves at my shirt buttons, slowly pushing each one out of the hole as I’m finding out what kind of sounds I can elicit from biting his lip.

Eventually, we find ourselves laying back on the bed, the light now off and shirts both pushed off of our shoulders. I’m still in my suit trousers, and he’s just in his boxers and dress socks, still snogging the life from me. I think we’re sobering up, but frankly, I’m too scared to figure that out. The truth would make it too real.

For the first time, I dare to take my lips away from his mouth and leaving him whining beside me before I test the waters of neck kisses, scattering them around.

A tug of my hair tells me it’s more than okay.

It’s so tempting to go further. With each pull of my hair and groan rumbling from his chest, I’m struggling to stop myself from peeking under that waistband.

I don’t, though.

I force myself back up, back to his lips, and stay there. Stay in this moment that makes me believe that it’ll last.

“Baz,” he mumbles into my mouth. It feels so distant that, at first, it feels like I’m imagining it.

Then he says it again.

“Baz.” It’s more firm this time, sending me back and staring at him with wide, nervous eyes. He laughs, though, and reaches out to rub his hand against my cheek. “I just gotta take a piss, fucking hell.”

I melt into it, closing my eyes and nodding slightly as I exhale.

He presses a last kiss to my face, this time, to my forehead, before stretching and heading off to pee.

And that’s the last thing I remember before waking up, wearing the trousers I was last night and basically the same position he’d left me in bed in, but now he’s back and laying right across from me. We’re not fully pressed together, like last night, but his hands are holding mine, and his face is close enough to lean my neck out and kiss.

I’d say, by the way the light’s shining, it’s about half an hour before my morning alarm is set to go off.

I’m not quite sure where this leaves us. By sometime later this afternoon, we don’t really have to interact again for a while. We can, realistically, avoid each other as we usually do. Therefore, I’m drinking him in as much as I can in this moment. The way his hair falls against the pillow, the way his lip hangs open, the way his chest rises and falls. I take in as much as I can, knowing that I could very well not get it again.

With the eventual clamor of my morning alarm, Snow’s eyes scrunch as he groans. I leave our space together, hitting it off before joining him again and meeting his eyes. I don’t care about my headache now, I just want to hold him one last time.

As I latch myself to him, though, he cuddles up to me properly and kisses my hair, whispering something I would’ve never thought in a million years that I’d actually hear. “Good morning, darling.”

I shoot back, frowning for once. I can’t live like this. We can’t leave like this.

“What are we doing?” I insist, setting my jaw and studying his seemingly innocent face.

“I… what do you…”

“You’ve been snogging me for days, and you wake up and call me darling as if it’s one of my obscure fucking fantasies, and it’s not fair. I can’t live on uncertainties, and I’m scared to fucking death that you’re just going to pull some sick joke when we get back to campus and say ‘Great afternoon, goodbye’, and you’ll be gone.” Snow reaches out to me, but I flinch instead. He pulls away. “Tell me what game you’re playing at.”

“There’s no game!” he snaps at first, then realizes the bite to his voice before lowering it and mumbling. “There’s… there’s no game, Baz. I like you.”

That wasn’t really an outcome I’d fully prepared for. “You what?”

“I… I fancy you, Baz. I have for some time now. Fuck all, I’ve been talking to you all weekend, and I hate talking. I thought you were smart. I thought you’d noticed beyond all the snogging.”

He’s got me stunned.

“Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he mumbles, pouting at me.

This time, I do kiss his expression away.

He leans into it, hand finding mine again and tracing my palm slowly. I love it when he does that.

As he lets back to catch a breath, I eye him up curiously. “What does this mean for us?” I whisper. “Are we something now?”

“We can be. I want us to be.”

“Will… you say what that ‘us’ would be? Say it properly, for me.”

“Why?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Even without looking at him, there’s a smile in his voice. “Baz Pitch, will you be my boyfriend?”

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