Jun 23, 2014
mortalcreator said: HOW DO I GET THE SAME LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP AS YOU TWO
Uhm... Common interests and about five or six years of knowing each other helps. <3
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mortalcreator said: HOW DO I GET THE SAME LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP AS YOU TWO
Uhm... Common interests and about five or six years of knowing each other helps. <3
feministxibalba hasn't heard this, and this is unacceptable in my eyes.
I'm listening to Stutter by Marianas Trench and I have (of all ships) Archie x Neil on the brain and they're dancing in my headspace and it's adorable and playful and actually kinda sexy and I didn't mean to ship this.
c France x Flossie again because reasons
Song of Choice: Fall in Love, Mademoiselle - Masaya OnosakaWhy yes, I did use one of France’s own character songs for this fill. Sue me, this song is beautiful and perfect for whatever your France ship happens to be. One of mine happens to be a crippled British librarian who’s not even in his source material, lol— yours too, apparently, since you asked for this ship twice ;) Humanized again, maybe a sequel to the last France x Flossie fill, and I refuse to apologize for its length. Also, guess who has excellent, expensive as hell taste?
———
Flossie wanted to stretch her legs and get a little walking in. She was, at heart, a practical Englishwoman and laughed when Francis expressed… concerns about her taking the 704-stair journey. “I’m adventurous, not stupid, Francis,” she reassured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I know my limits.”
"Then how is my dove to fly to the top?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Crowds of tourists and native Parisians walked around them as a river flowed around a stone.
"The lifts are right behind you, Francis," she pointed out. "If we want up there before the night’s out, we should queue up now."
"Too long. Come—" He dropped to kneel on the pavement, glancing over his shoulder to indicate that he gave her implicit permission to clamber on.
"Why do you insist on carrying me places?" she asked, leaning against his back and loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. "Not that I’m complaining, mind."
"Because if I didn’t—" Francis braced his feet against the pavement and stood, slowly, so as to maintain a center of gravity that wouldn’t send them toppling to the ground— "I couldn’t call myself a gentleman, non?”
"You’re starting to sound like Arthur," she teased, her breath warm against his ear.
"Perish the thought," he announced, reaching back to bring her legs up around his sides (though he did neglect to mention the extensive conversations he’d had with his English compatriot about the proper way to go about this evening). "Now, shall we fly, Colombe?"
"As high as you dare," she confirmed.
Seven hundred stairs later, Flossie drew a sharp breath, and that alone confirmed to Francis that she’d spotted the view. “Let me down,” she ordered, patting his arm.
Francis released her legs, and when he heard her shoes touch the ground, leaned back slightly to allow her to get better footing. She released him and steadied herself quickly before striding with purpose to the observation deck rail, him following mere steps behind. “What do you think?” he asked.
"It’s beautiful," she announced, her eyes never straying from the skyline or the city below. "My God, Francis, it’s…" She brought her hand to her mouth, words seeming to fail her. "I’m sorry, I’m— I’m a little overwhelmed."
"Don’t apologize," he soothed, reaching over and brushing a few wisps of her hair behind her ear.
Flossie smiled and took a few shuffling steps to the side, pressing herself against his side, laying her head on his shoulder. “I feel so lucky…” she murmured.
Francis wrapped his arm around her shoulder again. She felt lucky? Then what was he—he who stood in a city he proudly claimed as his hometown, with a woman who seemed to outshine the Arc d’Triomphe and even the Tower herself simply by being so simply her? After a moment, he swallowed hard— the nerves were finally setting in, some one hundred eighty meters above Paris— before speaking. “Colombe— Florence?”
She tipped her gaze up to look at him. “What’s on your mind, Francis?” Something had to be, after all— he only ever called her by her first name in the most serious of moments. Her brow furrowed slightly. “Is everything okay?”
“Bien sûr,” he replied, tossing his hair lightly to play off the nerves. As he spoke, his free hand slipped into his jacket pocket. The blue box was still there, and he fingered its white ribbon like a worry stone. “I, euh… I have a question.”
Go the Distance + Reprise from Hercules, because locoexclaimer doesn't remember the song ( D8 ).
c Kristanna
Song of Choice: Edeweiss - The Sound of Music, performed by André Rieu
———
As it happened, Kristoff returned from the mountains as Anna was preparing to receive dignitaries, and thus in a rush. “But they can wait,” she’d reassured him when he suggested coming by later. “What’s up?”
"Well, uh…" This had gone so much smoother when he practiced it with Sven on the way back. "I brought you these." He held out a carefully wrapped package, small enough to sit in the palm of his hand, out to her. "I thought you’d like them."
Curiosity overcoming any desire to perform even slightly princess-like duties, Anna carefully unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a small braided wreath of white, star-shaped flowers. “Edelweiss,” she announced, looking up at him with a warm smile. “Giitu.”
His language rolled off her tongue, and his heart fluttered a bit. “I thought you’d look pretty wearing them,” he admitted.
At that, Anna’s eyes and smile widened considerably. “A flower crown?” She didn’t wait for him to answer but thrust the item into his hands. “Help me put it on—”
"Right now?" he asked.
"Yes, right now," she confirmed, gathering her ginger curls and the ribbons holding them atop her head.
Nodding his understanding, Kristoff carefully worked her hair and existing adornments through the wreath and secured it on the crown of her head. “There.” He reached up and fussed with her hair a little, making sure it fell in the same lovely tresses with which she’d started.
"Thank you, Kristoff," she said sincerely, taking his hands in hers and standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheeks. "How do I look?"
As he considered her— possibly the prettiest girl he’d ever had the fortune of knowing, let alone courting— his expression softened even more. “Hui čáppat— very pretty.”
c Herry x Neil
Song of Choice: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me - Mel CarterBonus Video: Clip of the same from To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (Apologies for the Hungarian dubbing, it was all I could find)
———
Herry Olsson had faced, in no specific order, giants, demons, monsters, various nasties from Greek myth and a god with a serious axe (rather, scythe) to grind with him and his friends. No big deal— but this? “Sorry, Neil,” he apologized, shaking his head. “I don’t dance— at least not well.”
"Please?" Neil pleaded, looking up at Herry with hopeful eyes. "Just once?"
Make an ass of himself, or put up with Neil shooting him kicked puppy looks all night— “Fine,” he consented. “We’ll do the next slow one.”
Neil immediately perked up, and when the next song picked up, he practically giggled and clapped like a young child, while Herry groaned— of course the next song was the promised “slow one.” “You promised,” he reminded, taking Herry’s hand.
"I promised," Herry agreed, following Neil onto the floor.
At least Neil had the good sense to lead as the lyrics started to pick up. “You look good tonight,” he complimented after a moment.
Coming from Neil, it was praise of the highest caliber, and Herry couldn’t help but feel flattered by it. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “You look…” A myriad of adjectives sprang to mind, but in the end he settled on— “You look really handsome.”
Normally, Neil’s response to compliments was to preen; now, he dipped his head slightly, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Herry teased.
"No," Neil replied. "It’s just…" He shook his head, words seeming to fail him, before standing on his toes to press a kiss to Herry’s cheek. It was difficult to express that one sincere compliment from this sweet, straight-forward boy meant more than a dozen compliments from anyone else in the world.
c BA x girl Murdock
Song of Choice: Rocket Man - Elton John
———
One’s line of work changes people— and in this case, it wasn’t just the stint in the army. It was the stint in the army and running like hell was on your heels, stopping to help those who couldn’t help themselves along the way.
Crazy as she was, and ironic as it seemed over all, the only consistency was Murdock. Her flights of fancy, her weird personas, that stupid invisible dog, the way she found every irritating chink in his armor and got into it like sand— Somehow, when she wasn’t around, he missed her.