roma★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
will byers stan first human second
Mike Driver
No title available
$LAYYYTER
Keni
h
trying on a metaphor
★
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
EXPECTATIONS
The Stonewall Inn
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
tannertan36
wallacepolsom
One Nice Bug Per Day
ojovivo
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@anuxyoung-blog
revelries // open
Nick drifted among the masquerade guests, a full glass of wine cupped between two fingers. His own mask didn’t conceal much as he eyed the humans. A few whispered suggestions, backed with a push, and by the time he’d stepped off to the side, there was a group of... dancers well and truly entangled together. "Not quite the same.” He cocked his head, studying his work. “Although that the one’s surprisingly flexible.”
Chris Evans.
Portrait by Mario Testino for GQ, July 2011.
Ivan sat there completely confused as to how the man liked music, but didn’t exactly think it should be played. His brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend that, lips closed and pulled into a thin line as Ivan concentrated hard on this. “Correct me if I’m wrong, sir, but how is one supposed to hear music when most of the audience can’t read the pages? Not everyone is musically inclined.” That’s when it hit him. Snapping his left fingers and pointing gently at him, he smiled brightly. “I’ve got it! Why don’t you help me find people who can actually interpret the music I’m writing correctly?”
“I plan to make some changes, but that’s only to the lighting fixtures and pulleys. They were old and needed replacing soon, anyway. That and the seats need better cushioning. It’ll still be just as magnificent, but I’ll perfect the Abbey. I’ll even consider putting in a full security system around the entire building.” Ivan said, pulling out another notebook with plans and ideas for the Abbey. He held it out to Nick, his smile bright as he nodded to the Original to tell him to take a look.
Nick raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Nice try, but you wouldn’t want me at auditions.” It would make a fun break in his day, though. He smiled, wistful and faraway for a moment. He’d left theater behind in the sixteenth century--too frivolous and too much of a distraction when he’d had so many other things to juggle. He shook his head and chuckled again. “No, if you’re set on music that people can hear without knowing how to read a score,” he said in a voice that dripped resignation, “then you don’t want me around while picking musicians.” This time, his smile was conspiratorial--inviting Ivan to share the joke whether or not he was in on it.
Nick looked at the offered notebook for a moment before accepting it with a raised eyebrow. He’d grown used to everyone using their tablet--a miscalculation. Leafing through the pages, he lingered over each design and notation; committed it all to memory. “Security is a good idea. Something like passive surveillance hooked to active defense measures?” It’d be a balancing act to keep the Abbey from turning into a fortress, or a high value target for the Resistance to raid for spare weapons and tech. But a few measures to make it less easy to be destroyed in a raid... “So, this is what perfect will look like when it’s finished?”
late night, early morning | open
“You do look pretty sturdy. Heavier than a plate. Which was kinda why I was hesitating to try it out. I know I look very muscular, but I promise it’s just the lighting in here,” she said, knowing she didn’t look very tough at all. “A lot of sentimental value. It’s my mother’s.”
Pressing his lips together, Nick looked her over and made a considering noise. “Very favorable lighting, then; I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.” He let a small smile creep onto the corner of his lips. “And now you’ve got strange men sleeping on it. Sort of rude of me.” He pursed his lips, apparently thinking the matter over. “I could have it cleaned. I probably had hyena hair all over my back when I lay down.”
“But, that means no music. Wait, you don’t like music?” He asked, rather confused. In Ivan’s eyes, everyone loved music…no matter where someone came from. That was just his belief, of course. Though, as the Original asked about his working life, Ivan smiled brightly and nodded. “Yes, it is. I missed working, especially when it comes to the Abbey. You already know that it’s my my home. Always has been and always will be. It’ll be grand, too! Magnificent in size and world-class luxury.”
“Actually, I like music very much.” Nick’s tone hovered somewhere between airy and matter of fact; his smile matched it. Sighing, he stared at a point somewhere just above Ivan’s head for a moment and then shrugged. “You’re getting hung up on what the audience hears or not. Sensible of you in context.” Nick smiled again, bringing his attention squarely back to Ivan. “But music doesn’t require musicians; it’s the other way around. Music can exist just fine on the page and never be tortured by interpretation or mistakes.” A hint of amusement--or challenge--colored Nick’s voice.
“A Globe itself.” He nodded, chuckling.”You don’t have to sell me on it. Will you be making any changes in this renovation? I understand you’ve got the reins.”
late night, early morning | open
Holy fuck, the jacket was floating and all Ethan could do was stare in wonderment. “Man, that’s so fucking cool. You’re like Professor Xavier from X-Men.” The young Lacoste slipped on his jacket and zipped it up so he could keep himself warm. “Wh-what’re you doin’ on the couch, sir?”
Nick didn’t roll his eyes at the comparison, but it was a near miss. Why was it always comic books? “It’s been a long day.” He glanced toward the windows, all beautiful morning light and definitely didn’t roll his eyes when he looked back at Ethan. “Anyway. How is your work treating you? Interesting?”
Uncanny || Open
Glancing back at him suspiciously, she carried the ingredients around him and set them out before her. “So, I heard a rumor that you guys - Originals - have gone through the years, sometimes with a celebrity status. Did you ever, I don’t know…Go by Plato or Aristotle? Socrates maybe?” She teased, though idly wondered at the possibility.
“That’s a shame, though I am admittedly a muffin fan myself. But if it’s something subtle you want…” She snatched up the sugar and waltzed back into the pantry, returning a moment later with brown sugar and cinnamon. “Are you opposed to slicing apples? I only ask because I assume you’d like your dessert in a timely manner.”
Nick blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Really? Philosophers are your first thought about the good old days?” Amused, a smile curved up a corner of his mouth. It followed, in a way, from the conversation they’d been having but Plato seemed a little tame for the question. “I’ve gone by a lot of names, but none of those.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, smirking as he shook his head. “Want to guess again?”
Watching her make the substitution, he found himself surprised again by the request. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep as he studied the apples. “Why not? I’m handy with a knife.” He shrugged, grinning at her as he plucked an apple from the table. “Skinned or no?”
alex & nick (para shuffle)
The bite in the air was instant as Nick stepped out of the Garden. He exhaled slowly, smiling as his breath plumed in front of him. At least New York could be counted on for proper seasons. Stepping away from the door, he slouched against the building’s facade. It kept him out of most of the wind and he cleared the snow from around his feet with a small burst of telekinesis. He smirked a bit as it scattered in front of him.
“I swear this is less sludge-like the last year. What do you think?” Cocking his head, he grinned at Alex. Nick straightened and waved a hand toward the door, which opened. “Thanks for making the trip to meet with me. Good to see you weren’t murdered by rabid snowflakes.”
late night, early morning | open
“Oh, uh, sorry, sir.” Crap! He bugged an Original. Well, it was nice existing. “I just, ya know, wanted my jacket for work. You’re kinda on it.”
Exhaling heavily through his nose, Nick sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So I was.” He used telekinesis to float the jacket toward Ethan, while Nick rolled smoothly to his feet. “There we go. Can’t have you freezing to death on the way to work.”
late night, early morning | open
She froze for a second since she hadn’t expected the Original to be awake. “Oh, um, sorry. I was just trying to get my jacket. I was going to try that one magician stunt, you know with the table cloth? But that probably wouldn’t have ended well.”
Nick chuckled, kept his eyes closed for another moment as he stretched. Then he swung his legs around and raised his eyebrows at her, glanced at the jacket, then back at her. “Depends how attached you are to that jacket; I weigh a lot more than a place setting.” He lifted the jacket and cocked his head. “So? Sentimental value?”
At the unexpected sound of the Original’s voice, Ivan jumped and dropped his items to the ground with wide eyes. “Jesus fucking…” He breathed out, turning to look at the man with a nervous smile. “Because without musicians, the music can’t be played for the productions?” He answered but it held a questioning tone to it.
"Currently no one in particular,” Nick murmured as he used telekinesis to lift Ivan’s belongings from the ground to chest high for him. Walking around the bench, Nick leaned his hip against the arm. “Without musicians, music is also exactly as it should be.” He smiled slightly, enjoying Ivan’s confusion a little too much to abandon the Cheshire Cat routine. “So, back to work. Seems to be suiting you just fine?”
“Thanks to Leona, I have many of the old instruments back that belonged to the Abbey before it’s destruction. Now, all I require are people who can play them.” Ivan contemplated aloud as he sat on a bench in Central Park while flipping through a notebook he had used to write down notes for the reconstruction of the Abbey as well as ideas for scripts.
Nick smiled to himself when he heard Ivan’s voice. Mina’s request had taken more time than Nick’s anticipated, but it was the details that really sold a lie. And now, he was overdue for a bit of fun. He dropped down silently behind Ivan and leaned over the back of the bench. “Now why would you want to go and ruin perfectly good music with musicians?”
late night, early morning | open
“I can hear you, you know. So, please, stop hovering and just tell me what you’d like.”
work, work, work | vincent & nick
“Oh shut up.” Vincent began to laugh. “One of these days I hope you get tired of using ridiculous titles.” He knew better though, even if he told him to stop it would make no difference. “Or at least start using them for Anshar as well, since he’s snagged a queen for a mate.”
“That’s very good, my king; you should keep hoping.” Nick reached out to pat Vincent’s shoulder. “It’ll keep you young.” A glimmer of mischief softened Nick’s eyes before he shook his head. “Have you lost your mind? Anshar’s ego doesn’t need the boost. But, now that you mention it,” he cocked his head. “If he does swan off to be king of his own clan, I expect bribes from both of you to keep me.”
All I Ask || Mina & Nick
Mina nodded. “Very good.” She had doubts about Nick and Damon, but never doubted their work or the results that came from it. Clearly, Nick was good at what he did, even seeming to take pride in his work. After all the time he spent studying the humans in the years before the Originals took control of the planet he was the best resource in understanding their enemy.
“I think it does.” She was pleased to see things go so smoothly. “Thank you for meeting with me so soon. I’m sure you have a packed schedule.” Mina was relieved that he didn’t try to play any games when she went to schedule their talk.
“I’m always pleased to make time for royalty.” Nick kept his expression neutral, only allowing his eyes to laugh. Part of him appreciated her skills in manipulation--it made it easier not to be overly flattered that she’d brought this plot to him. Well, that and a healthy sense of his own abilities. He smiled and waved a tea tray over, small sandwiches and mini-cakes. “I hate to be a bad host. Is there anything else I could get for you?”
They’d never be friends, obviously; Nick’s loyalty to Damon was a bedrock that couldn’t be shifted. But he’d never allowed there friendship to interfere with business. At the moment, getting a better read on Mina was simply good business. “The battenburg’s not bad. I prefer the lemon tarts.”
Childhood dotted with bodies. Let them go, let them be ghosts. No, I said, make them stay, make them stone.
“Origin of the Marble Forest” by Gregory Orr (via ghoststudiesstuff)
