#rubycaspar

[holmesapothecary]

Here’s my David Rose-colour-schemed kitten to cheer you up!

LOOK AT THIS KITTEN!!!!!!! 🥺

[hawthornewhisperer]

How about Bellarke + taking part in a social experiment where strangers have to kiss each other? (If you google 'twenty strangers kiss' you'll see what I mean - sorry I can't include a link because Tumblr :/ )

Clarke checked her hair in the mirror one last time.  “How on earth did you get this project approved?” she asked Lincoln, who was fiddling with the video camera.

“I almost didn’t.  Getting this through the IRB was a nightmare,” he replied.  “Did you sign your consent form?”

“It’s on top of your bag.  Lipstick, or no?”

“Your call.  The whole installation is about the choices individuals make,” he said, now climbing a ladder to readjust a light.

“I’ll skip it.  Wouldn’t want my partner to feel like I was trying to mark them, or anything,” she decided.

Lincoln consulted a spreadsheet on his laptop.  “Okay, you’re group A, so out that door to your left. I’ll call you in, one at a time.”

The rest of Lincoln’s subjects were standing awkwardly in the waiting room when Clarke joined them.  She was sort of surprised at the turn out for an all-volunteer art project, but then again, “come make out with a stranger on camera” was probably a fairly easy sell on a college campus.

Everyone shuffled their feet and exchanged grimacing, nervous smiles.  After filming they were supposed to leave out the main door of the studio, which meant people disappeared one by one and didn’t reappear, giving the whole thing a rather unsettling air.

Finally, Lincoln opened the door and waved her in.  He had set up a corner of the studio like a cozy sitting room, with a small sofa and a pile of cushions on the floor.  Her partner wasn’t in yet— Lincoln was at the opposite door— so she settled down on the cushions to wait.

Her partner emerged and Clarke’s mouth went dry.  She knew Lincoln had some hot friends, but he’d really outdone himself with this one.  Broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and forearms that made her want to watch him split wood like Captain Fucking America.

And then he smiled and she was a goddamn goner.

“Hey,” he said easily, settling into the cushions next to her.  “I’m Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” she said, doing her best to forget that Lincoln was taping all of this, and that there was a clock somewhere, counting down their time.  Each couple got five minutes to use as they chose, so long as the interaction ended in some form of an embrace.

Bellamy reclined, his body parallel to her.  “How do you know Lincoln?”

“Art major.  He was my TA last year.  You?”

Bellamy threw Lincoln a mock-dirty look.  “He’s dating my sister.”

Now that he said it, Clarke could see the similarities— Bellamy and Octavia had the same jaw, and the same sharp cheekbones. Also, both were too-hot-to-be-allowed, quite frankly.  She asked him about his major and he asked what drew her to art, and for the next minute they exchanged remarkably not-awkward small talk.  But the whole time the air between them felt charged, like the tiniest spark could ignite an inferno. Clarke propped herself up on her elbow.  “So...should we do this?”

She caught Bellamy’s gaze dropping to her lips.  He nodded, reaching out to brush her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.  “This okay?”

Now it was her turn to nod.  His hand slipped into her hair and he leaned forward, closing the distance.  Their lips met, hesitant and first and then quickly deepening, with Clarke rolling to her back and bringing Bellamy over her.  His weight was comforting, his touch sure.  Their tongues met and retreated, moving together like this was something they did every day.

Clarke idly wished she had worn her bright red lipstick, because for some reason she wanted to leave a mark on him, some sort of impression that would linger.  Bellamy made a low noise in the back of his throat and eased his knee between her legs.  She arched against him, marveling at the softness of his hair.  She nipped at his lower lip, forgetting that this was a set up, that Lincoln was filming them as part of his MFA thesis.  It felt like they were in her bed on a lazy Sunday morning, light filtering through her soft pink curtains while coffee burbled in the kitchen.  Her hands roamed his back, their lips chasing and retreating and pressing together again, and time seemed irrelevant.

But then Lincoln cleared his throat.  Clarke whined, not ready for it to end.  Bellamy kept kissing her, either blissfully unaware of Lincoln’s signal or deliberately ignoring it, like her.  But then Lincoln coughed again, and Bellamy came to his senses first.

He lifted his head, eyes hazy, and she pushed a curl back from his forehead.  “I guess we’re done,” he said, voice raspier than she remembered.

“Yeah, I— I guess,” she said, and Bellamy sat back on his heels, offering her a hand to pull her up.  They straightened their clothing and Clarke smoothed back her hair, both of them suddenly shy.

Lincoln seemed to be fighting a smile.  “Door’s that way,” he said, unnecessarily smug.

Bellamy was avoiding her eyes as they walked, but when they left the studio he turned to face her.  “Do you— can I have your number?” he asked, and after all that— after kissing her so thoroughly she forgot her own damn name— the tips of his ears turned red.

Clarke grinned.  “How about I buy you a drink instead?”

[chasholidays]

Hi! Whenever I hear the song 'Christmas Wrapping' by The Waitresses I think of a Bellarke modern AU based on it, with the two of them meeting and almost getting together all through a busy year, and it never working out, and then all sorting itself out at Christmas, and would love to read your take on it. Here's the link to a youtube vid with the lyrics in case you don't know the song: youtube. com/ watch?v=ARq6uYSsUq0 Good luck with all the writing, you're awesome!

hey y’all, due to the realities of “having shit to do over the hoildays,” I’ll be taking a few days off of posting after this! we’ll be back for the last seven fills starting Saturday, 12/29. however you are spending the rest of the week, I hope you enjoy it!

December

“You look miserable.”

Bellamy was zoning out, plotting out the rest of his (fairly grim) evening in his head and ignoring the sounds of the lodge party around him, but the unfamiliar voice startles him out of it and looks down to see a cute blonde wearing a truly hideous sweater and smiling up at him from under a reindeer-ear headband.

“You look shockingly upbeat,” he says without thinking, and she laughs.

“Haven’t you ever heard of Christmas cheer?”

He glances between her mug and her face. “So just a bunch of alcohol?”

“95% Bailey’s, 5% hot chocolate,” she agrees. “With whipped cream on the top.”

He has to smile. “So you’re saying I should be drunker.”

“I don’t know you or your life, but you are at a Christmas party. So, yes, you should be drunker and less sad. Unless you’re a mopey drunk, in which case you should be drunker and more sad.”

He laughs. “One, I’m not really at this party.”

The woman pointedly looks around, then back at him. “Are you astral projecting?”

“My sister works here, so she got me a deal on the room, but I’m not really doing any of the guest stuff. I just wanted coffee. Non-Irish.”

“Why aren’t you doing guest stuff? Just because you got a deal doesn’t make you not a guest. And feel free to tell me to leave you alone any time, I won’t be offended.”

“I’ll just leave once I’ve got my coffee,” he says, with a smile he hopes comes across as friendly and teasing, not smug. The woman is cute and also right: in theory, he really should be taking advantage of all the facilities at the lodge. Not that he’s ever much for parties, especially ugly-sweater parties, but he could at least be learning to ski or something. “I’m in grad school,” he explains. “I’m done for the semester, but I’m trying to get ahead for next semester. And I teach too, so–free time doesn’t really exist right now.”

“What are you studying?”

“Education. It’s a licensing thing, I can teach, but I need a masters’ for–” He waves his hand. “You don’t care.”

“Professional license?” she asks, to his surprise. “Or something like that. It’s a professional license in Massachusetts.”

“That’s where I’m getting mine, yeah.”

“What do you teach?”

“History.”

The woman nods, takes another sip of her drink. “I’m in Boston. I’m not a teacher, but I’m a social worker, so I talk to a lot of teachers about how the kids are doing. Are you done with grading?”

“Mostly,” he says, absent. The crowd clears enough he can get to the drinks table, and he’s glad when she follows him as he finds a mug and fills it up. “You’re in Boston?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs. “Wow, me too. What are the odds?”

“Probably not that bad. I think it’s mostly people from New England here. It’s a pain to get to Vermont.”

“I guess you’re right. What area of the city are you in?”

She’s not that close to him, but it’s not like it’s a huge city. He knows some of the schools she works with, and they have some acquaintances in common. He’s also competent enough to learn that her name is Clarke Griffin, she’s twenty-five, single, and bisexual, and she just keeps getting cuter and drunker. Which is actually kind of a problem, because in order to not feel scuzzy flirting with her, he’d have to get a lot drunker himself, and he still has stuff he really has to get done tonight.

“Are you here through the holiday?” he asks, once he’s stayed for as long as he possibly can without breaking out in anxiety hives.

“No, this is actually my last day. Our office doesn’t close except for Christmas day, so we always need coverage. My friend Raven said time is a construct, so we always go on vacation the week before Christmas to celebrate.”

He nods. “That sucks.”

“I don’t mind. The office is dead and I’m the only one around, it’s kind of nice. I catch up on paperwork and play my music really loud.”

He smiles. “I meant that you’re leaving here and I really can’t stick around tonight. Grading to finish up and papers to submit.”

“So you’re going to start having fun after I leave.”

“Probably not, but I’ll at least have maybe two hours of free time.”

“And I’m guessing it’s not any better once you get home.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, but I want to ask for your number. But if you never have free time–”

“If I get your number, I can get in touch when I do have free time.”

“Works for me.” They trade phones for the number exchange. “Good luck with the grading.”

“Good luck with not being too hungover tomorrow.”

“I’m good at not getting hungover.” She bites the corner of her mouth. “Do you think there’s any mistletoe around?”

“No idea.”

She leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth, light. “Well,just pretend. Merry Christmas, Bellamy Blake.”

He smiles. “Merry Christmas.”

February

Bellamy has three spring breaks, which is both better and worse than it sounds.

New England has this regional quirk where the K-12 schools have two spring breaks, one in February and one in April, which Bellamy would be fine with, except that colleges don’t do that, so he has a total of three weeks off over the course of the spring, but it’s never actually being totally off. When he’s not teaching, he’s still got grad school, and when grad school is off, he still has to teach.

Still, with teaching off his plate, he has a little more flex time, enough that he thinks he could, potentially, actually get a drink with Clarke.

There’s a part of him that thinks even asking is stupid. He liked Clarke, enjoyed talking to her and would like to do it more, but this year feels like the wrong time to attempt a new friendship, let alone a new romance. But pending getting in touch with her until after the summer semester seems risky, at best. He doesn’t want to miss out on something good just because he regularly realizes weeks have passed without his noticing.

And it’s not as if they’ve been completely out of touch. He was competent enough to text her the day after their first meeting, to make sure she’d made it home okay, and she in turn asked if he’d finished his grading. It hadn’t been a long conversation, but she’d texted him a few weeks later with a history question, and he’d checked in for advice about a student who was acting up. They’re both doing their best to keep the connection alive, tending to that small spark, and that means Bellamy can put in the effort to actually see her, now that he has some time.

Me: I sort of have a break coming up

Clarke: Sort of good for youWhat break?

Me: February break for high schoolI still have grad school stuff, but no teachingSo I probably have some amount of free time

Clarke: Shit

Me: Yeah, I hate some amount of free time too

Clarke: Not thatI’m chaperoning a trip for some of the kids at a group home over spring breakIt’s a great programReally coolI love doing itBut I’m going to be in California all week

Me: That does sound like a great programWhere in California?

Clarke explains the itinerary, where she’s most excited to go, what challenges she’s anticipating, and it’s sort of the whole Clarke problem in a nutshell. Part of him feels like he should take this as a sign it’s not meant to be, that he and Clarke will only ever be ships passing in the night and it’s pointless to fight it. But every time he talks to her, it reminds him of why he does like her, why he wants to figure out how this could work.

And, a week later, she’s texting him pictures of herself on a California vacation, so she wants to figure it out too.

It’s just a matter of time.

April

Me: Do you want to come to my birthday party?

Clarke: Yes, obviouslyBut I’m not going to get carried away and say I’m actually comingI think we might be cursed

Me: That would be a weird curse

Clarke: It would, but I’m not taking any chancesWhen’s your birthday?

Me: April 25

Clarke: Happy early birthdayTurning 30, right?

Me: Somehow, yeah

Clarke: I assume the party isn’t on the 25th

Me: No, on Friday

Clarke: This Friday?

Me: Yeah, I know it’s short noticeI wasn’t planning to do anything but then my friend talked me into it

Clarke: I think I can actually make it!Where and when?

Obviously, Bellamy doesn’t actually think they’re cursed, but he does have some trouble believing that Clarke will actually make it, or ]that it will actually be good if she does. Maybe she’ll show up and he’ll realize he doesn’t like her as much as he thought he did, that he’s too invested in a person he barely knows.

“Maybe you’re just scared because you haven’t had a crush in like five years,” Miller says, dry.

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“You sure?”

Bellamy frowns, trying to remember. “Gina and I dated three years ago, so–”

“Yeah, but she picked you up at a bar. It’s not like you had time to get in your head about it.”

“Clarke picked me up at a ski lodge.”

“And then left and you haven’t seen her for four months. And you’ve been in your head about it the whole time.”

This is probably both true and a large part of his problem. Bellamy’s pretty good at relationships, if he does say so himself, but actually getting intoa relationship is always rocky. Especially when he has a crush. Clarke is the worst of all worlds because it should be a slam dunk, but the universe is conspiring against them.

Right on cue, his phone buzzes with a text from her: So we might actually be cursed.

He groans. “Fuck, I think she’s canceling.”

Miller’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

Clarke: I think I’m still going to make itBut one of my clients has a problem with her foster homeAnd I need to get her out and find somewhere else for her to goSo I’m going to be late to very lateI’ll text when I’m done to make sure you’re still thereSorry

Me: You really don’t have to apologizeGo help the kid I hope everything’s okay

Miller’s watching him. “So?”

“Work emergency. She’s delayed.” He sighs. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she just didn’t want to hang out, but she started it, and she keeps saying she wants to make this work.”

“Does she ever invite you to do stuff?”

“Yeah, every couple weeks, but she’s busy too. She works Tuesday to Saturday, so Fridays are usually out, and a lot of weird overtime. Or emergencies, like this.” He smiles with half his mouth, caught between amusement and weariness. “Last time she asked if I wanted to hang out, I was chaperoning a dance. The time before that, I was out of town.”

“So you two really do have the world’s shittiest luck.”

“From what I can tell, yeah. Even if she comes tonight, I have no idea when our schedules are going to work out again.”

“But you’re going to keep trying?”

He takes a drink of his beer, shoots Miller a sidelong glance. “What, you think I shouldn’t?”

“Nah, just surprised. I sort of figured you’d just give up on the whole thing. Decide this was the universe’s way of telling you that it wasn’t meant to be. I probably couldn’t even make fun of you for giving up at this point.”

“I want it to work,” he says. “Or at least give it a fair shot.”

“Huh.” Miller raises his glass. “Then I hope she shows.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She texts at 10:30 to ask if he’ll still be there in fifteen minutes, and he probably wouldn’t be staying much longer left to his own devices, but she’s worth waiting for.

It doesn’t occur to him until she sits down next to him that this is his first time seeing her in person since December. It’s a little disorienting, how rarely they’ve actually been together, relative to how much he likes her.

“Hey, happy birthday,” she says.

“Thanks. Everything okay? With the kid.”

“It’s not great. Her foster dad was making her really uncomfortable. We got her out for the night, but she’ll need a new placement, and we probably have to do an investigation into the family.”

“That sucks.”

“It does, but I’m done with it for the night, so–I’m all yours. Is anyone else still around?”

“I made them leave so they wouldn’t make fun of me.”

“For waiting around for me?”

“For being shitty at flirting.”

She grins, the brightness of it lighting up her whole face. “You don’t really need to do a lot of flirting. I’m pre-picked up.”

“I like flirting.”

“But you’re shitty at it.”

“I’m practicing.”

She laughs. “Well, at least you know it’s going to work.”

“That helps.” He leans in, his own smile huge. “So, do you come here often?”

“First time. But I’m hoping to come back.”

They stay for another two hours and make out in their Lyft, but when Clarke asks if he wants to come up to her place, he shakes his head.

“I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t–” He smiles, a little sheepish. “I don’t know when I’m going to see you again, and I don’t want it to be, like–”

“We sleep together and don’t see each other for another four months?”

“Pretty much.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” She leans over for one more kiss. “Happy birthday, Bellamy.”

“Thanks.”

June

Clarke: So, is summer less busy for you?

Me: Usually yes

Clarke: But we’re cursed?

Me: Twelve-month masters. I have one more summer term to goPlus I’m going on vacation with my sisterBut in theory next fall is going to be better

Clarke: In theory?

Me: I’ll be done with school but we might still be cursedI don’t want to jinx it

Clarke: TrueFingers crossedKeep me posted

August

Me: Good news/bad news

Clarke: Your vacation got canceled so you can hang out with me next week?

Me: Close The AP history teacher just quitAnd they want me to replace herWhich is awesome, I really want to be teaching that classBut she took all her materials and left with no noticeSo I’m going to be scrambling to come up with an entire APUSH curriculum

Clarke: So you’re going to be really busy next semester

Me: I’m going to be really busy next semester

Clarke: I got a promotion so Kind of similar boat thereI was going to tell you whenever or I saw youOr whenever it kept me from seeing youWhichever came first

Me: Definitely the second oneWith our luck

Clarke: Yeah, sounds rightCongrats though, that’s awesome

Me: You tooGlad everything else in our lives is going well

Clarke: It could be worseNothing could be going well

Me: YeahStill, we should at least get drinks to celebrate

Clarke: Probably sometime in October

Me: That sounds rightSee you then

Clarke: It’s a tentative date

October

Clarke: Am I allowed to booty call you?

Bellamy’s buried under a pile of grading, but the sound of the phone pulls his attention back, and he finds it and stares at the message for a long second, trying to do the math in his head. Clarke is at a Halloween party that he was theoretically invited to, but he was just too slammed.

No is an acceptable answer pops up and he smiles.

Me: No, you should definitely come overBooty calls are very welcomeDo you have my address?

Clarke: I actually don’tAre you easily accessible via public transportation

Me: Yeah but on the green lineSo

Clarke: That’s fineI’m in Cambridge, I’ll take the train over and sober upSee you soon

Amazingly, the knowledge that Clarke is coming over doesn’t completely break his concentration. If anything, it actually motivates him more, because he wants to be done and have his full focus on his–whatever Clarke is. His pending girlfriend, maybe. The person he’s definitely going to date when they can just get their acts together.

The person he’s spending tonight with, for sure.

Things go wrong five minutes after she gets on the red line.

Clarke: We’re standing by between Central and Harvard

Me: Did they say why?

Clarke: I assume signal problemIt’s always signal problemAnyway, I might be a while

Me: That’s fineJust let me know when you get here

In theory, it’s about forty minutes on the red line to the green line, but Clarke stands by at every station between Harvard and Park Street, and then her next train goes out of service and Symphony, so it ends up being a full two hours before she arrives, exhausted and still dressed in Hogwarts robes.

“I don’t even want to get laid anymore, I just want to pass out.”

Bellamy smiles, pulling her into his arms. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Do you want to sleep here?”

“If you don’t mind.”

He kisses her hair. “I wanted to see you, or course I don’t want you to just leave. You want the tour?”

“I assume it’s short.”

“It is. And it ends at the bed.”

It’s nice, having Clarke in his space. He loans her a t-shirt to sleep in and she gets settled while he brushes his teeth and gets ready himself. He hasn’t had anyone sleep over since he and Gina broke up, and it’s nice, the way she curls around him and exhales like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

“This girl was hitting on me at the party,” she murmurs.

“Yeah? Was she cute?”

“She was. But it was like–I have someone. Or I want to have someone, I guess. I don’t know why I’d hook up with someone else when I just want to be with you.”

He pulls her closer, rubs his thumb against her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m glad you came here. I know it’s been–rough.”

“It’s not just you. I’ve been busy and held up and–” She presses her lips against his chest. “It feels like maybe this wasn’t supposed to happen, but I still want it to.”

“Me too. But I have somewhere to be early tomorrow so–”

“So we’ll catch up later.”

He smiles. “Yeah, we always do.”

December

The thing about Christmas is that it is, by mutual communal agreement, a big deal. It’s not one of those holidays where you just sort of celebrate it with whoever you’re with; spending Christmas with someone means something.

So Bellamy figures he’ll ask Clarke if she wants to hang out after the holiday. He knows she’s doing her usual trip with Raven and working the holiday, so he figures he can check in once the dust has settled, maybe make some plans with her for New Year’s.

He never lies about what he’s doing, but he feels weird telling her. It feels so dramatic and stupid, opting out of the holiday, and he doesn’t want her to feel like she has to hang out with him.

Which is also stupid. It’s stupid all the way down.

But somehow, it feels like next year is going to be better. After a year of playing phone tag and trying to make things work, they’re still trying. And he’s getting into the groove of teaching AP and Clarke isn’t going to work on weekends anymore and they might be able to make time to see each other more than once every few months.

It doesn’t feel like he needs to rush it now. They’re already taking their time, so they might as well do it right.

So New Year’s with Clarke. That seems doable. And he’ll relax until then.

She sends a bunch of pictures from her vacation in Florida, which means selfies in a bathing suit and sunglasses, pretty much the best Christmas present ever, and when she gets back and asks what he’s up to, he admits that he’s around and free.

His phone rings immediately. “You’re in Boston doing nothing right now?” she demands.

“I’m playing video games, it’s not nothing.”

There’s a pause. “You don’t want to see me?”

He scrambles up, even though she can’t see him. “Fuck, of course I do.”

“But you weren’t going to tell me you were here?”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“And?”

“I thought it might be weird. I’m not even doing anything, just sitting at home alone. It’s not like–” He sighs. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

“It’s not. Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Half of him expects the train to fuck her over again, or for something else to go wrong, but he tidies up a little anyway, just in case she really does show up. He wishes he had a tree, or at least a few lights, but it’s too late for that.

It’s not like Clarke’s coming to see his (lack of) decorations anyway. He’s the big draw.

“I can’t believe it’s only been two months since I saw you,” he teases, when she arrives, but Clarke isn’t fooling around. She yanks him down by the front of his shirt, mouth crashing into his, and Bellamy laughs into the kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” He tucks her hair behind her ear. “I figured we’d just hang out after the holiday.”

“Which is a total waste of two days we could be hanging out. I thought you were hanging out with your sister again.”

“I was going to, but then I realized I don’t have anything to do for vacation.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to ask you to come spend Christmas with me. It seemed weird. We’re not even–are we dating?”

“Not very often.”

“I think this is going to be our year. I’m finally going to have enough time to be a real person. Or at least to be your boyfriend.”

“New Year’s resolution?”

“If there’s one thing I learned this year it’s that you’re worth prioritizing.”

“Yeah?”

“I spent a whole year wishing I was seeing you. I don’t want to do that again.”

“But you wanted to wait until December 26th to see me,” she teases.

“Sorry. Do you want to spend Christmas watching Netflix on my couch and making out? I didn’t get you anything and I’m planning to have mac and cheese for dinner. It’s not going to be glamorous.”

“Am I going to see you again in the next week?”

“As much as you want, yeah. School’s out until after New Year’s, so I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Perfect. I want to get laid.”

He laughs. “I can’t believe you waited a whole year for this. Most people who have just given up by now.”

“It’s like you don’t even know how hot you are.” Her expression softens, and she leans in, giving him a soft kiss. “You’re worth waiting for, Bellamy.”

“And you’re worth making time for.” He tugs her toward the couch, and they settle in, close and warm.

Somehow, it feels like Christmas. No tree, no presents, not even any snow, but warm and happiness and–love, probably. The start of it, at least. Something growing.

“This is going to be our year,” he says, and she smiles.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

[phrynesforeheadkisses]

I've flown around the world in a plane I've settled revolutions in Spain The North Pole I have charted But can't get started with you 

Around the golf course I'm under par And all the movies want me to star I've got a house, a show place But I get no place with you

Merry Christmas @rubycaspar!

As your Secret Santa, I made you this phrack gifset, inspired by an old jazz song (listen here). I hope you like it!

[firesign23]

Phryne Ficathon 3 -- A Win All Around

A Win All Around

Title: A Win All Around Rating: G Chapters: [1/1] Summary: Phryne, Jack and Mac are off on a trip to the beach, how long before Phryne runs into trouble... Author: Scruggzi ( @scruggzi) Recipient: RubyCaspar ( @rubycaspar)

[seren-pen]

rubycaspar replied to your photo

and once again I've started watching a series because of your posts. This is the third, fyi.

Mwahahahahaaaaa!  Although, you really won’t ever regret watching Miss Fisher.  This show is amazing.  I want her clothes.  And this?  The dynamic between Phryne and Jack Robinson is how you do UST.  Good Lord.

[chasholidays]

I'd love to read Indra's POV on Just the Way You Are. Re-read it this week and she seems very knowing and smug about pairing them!

Original fic here!

Indra’s always found there’s something oddly soothing about assigning tutorial partners. She knows there are professors who don’t put much thought into the whole thing, who just check the times their students request and assign them at random, but that’s never been her preferred method. In a regular class, she doesn’t have much control over the dynamics; in the tutorials, she can try to create interesting interactions and experiences, and she enjoys thinking about which students would work well together, and it gives her a sense of control and order in the world, to find those matches.

Not that she knows everyone in every class very often, of course, but still. She can do her best.

During the first class, she had the students fill out some basic information. It’s nothing fancy, just their schedules and a little about why they decided to take the class, enough to go on for the ones she doesn’t already know, to get an idea of how they like to work and learn.

The first of the schedules for this class is Bellamy Blake’s, because he submitted it via email before the first class, and while Indra already knows Bellamy fairly well, she still reads over his answers, just to see what he says.

As usual, he’s realistic and honest, an intelligent boy who understands his own strengths and weaknesses. His schedule is less open than most of the students’, but he’s indicated where he would probably be able to adjust his shifts if it’s absolutely necessary. For anyone else, she might be suspicious, but she understands his circumstances, and she knows the restrictions are genuine. He wants to make this class work, and she wants to make sure it works for him

He is not, precisely, her favorite; she doesn’t have favorites. But he’s one of the favorites she doesn’t have.

She looks over the rest of the students’ papers, arrayed on the desk, and Clarke Griffin’s snags her eye. Like Bellamy, Indra’s had Clarke in classes before, and like Bellamy, she liked her. She hasn’t had as much experience with Clarke, but she’s only a sophomore, and she doesn’t have the notable background that Bellamy does. Still, she’s an intelligent, opinionated girl who won’t let Bellamy walk all over her, even if he’s right.

She checks their preferred meeting times, smiles when she sees there’s no conflict.

One pairing down, four to go.

*

Bellamy and Clarke being her first pair to actually meet is a coincidence of scheduling, but Indra will admit they’re the ones she’s most excited to see in action. Most of the other students are either unknown or unremarkable, and she’s sure they’ll do fine with the material, but she’s not expecting them to be particularly interesting.

When she opens the door she finds them already waiting outside the office, Bellamy slumped low with his legs stretched out and Clarke bolt upright, as if she’s trying to show Bellamy how he should be sitting. Her smile comes easily.

“Bellamy, Clarke,” she says, with a nod. “Come in.”

In the office, she gestures to the seats she has for them, and Bellamy offers Clarke the armchair, and she refuses for the wooden one, apparently out of some strange spite. Which is an unexpected dynamic, but, ultimately, none of Indra’s business. If there was a problem with the pairing that required her intervention, one of them would have told her.

Still, once they’re both settled, she asks, “Any issues with the assignment? Any questions?”

“Nope,” says Bellamy.

“No,” says Clarke.

“Good. We’ll start with Clarke reading her paper, and then Bellamy, you can read your response. Good?”

Again, neither has objections, and Indra nods for Clarke to start.

The paper is solid, if a little safe; Clarke’s not a classics major and took some time last semester getting confident with the material, and this class seems to be no exception. Indra’s neither surprised nor disappointed, but Bellamy’s like a shark smelling blood, pushing back against every error and issue.

Still, as she expected, Clarke doesn’t give an inch, and Indra gets to sit back and watch as the two of them fight their way through the translation. There are a few times where she wonders if she shouldn’t step in, but neither of them really seems to be dominating, and they don’t seem to be taking it personally. Clarke’s getting more assertive by the minute, and Bellamy seems as excited about it as he is annoyed.

In the end, her only contribution to the discussion is, “Times’s up in five minutes, so the two of you might want to come to some conclusions.”

Clarke looks as if she’s coming out of a daze, and Bellamy’s neck colors in embarrassment. But by the time Clarke glances over at him, the color has faded, and he’s his normal self again. “I’m pretty happy with this translation,” she offers.

“Yeah, I think it’s good. I still don’t think the piece is as optimistic as you do–” he adds, because he’s unable to help himself, apparently.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Death of the author. We can agree on the words without agreeing what they mean.”

“Yeah, but–”

Indra holds up her hand. “I think if you start going again, I’m going to be late for my next class. Good work, you two,” she adds. “I thought you’d work well together.”

The last thing she sees as they leave is their twin slack-jawed expressions, and she smiles to herself.

She does love tutorials.

*

She runs into Bellamy two weeks later, at the library, and he apologizes.

“For what?”

“I got kind of—loud,” he says, delicate. “Last class.”

“Every class,” she says, mild. “Do you apologize to Clarke about this?”

He shrugs one shoulder, with a kind of careful, deliberate casualness that makes Indra smile. “Clarke knows what she’s doing.”

“So, I’m not to blame and deserve an apology?”

“Not your fault we get along like oil and water,” he says, his voice a little wry.

“I might have seen it coming.”

He laughs. “In that case, I’m not sorry. You deserved this.”

“I think the two of you are doing very well.”

“I think if I get murdered, you’ll know who did it.”

“I assume I’ll be an eyewitness. Did the two of you know each other before this class?” she can’t help asking. “Or is this entirely based on Latin disagreements?”

Immediately, he turns a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck as if she’s caught him at something. “Uh, we met at a party a few days before our class. She definitely didn’t like me, but–honestly, I have no idea what I did to upset her.”

“You could be more tactful in your criticism.”

“She already hated me, so why bother? Besides, I think she likes tactless criticism.”

“So, you have nothing to apologize for.”

He flashes her a grin. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

She smiles back. “No. Maybe not quite that far.

*

The strangest thing is that she can see the changes in them, week to week. They still fight over every word and letter, still seem ready to strangle each other during every discussion, but it starts to be different, after the sessions end. Instead of storming out without looking at each other, they’ll wait and leave together, chatting about other things, Bellamy holding the door for Clarke, smiling down at her with warm eyes.

In some ways, it’s more unnerving than when they didn’t get along, but nice, too. She knows it’s hard for Bellamy to make friends, given his home situation, and she’s glad to see that they seem to be realizing that disagreeing this passionately about Latin translation is probably a sign they should be friends, not enemies.

And then their final papers roll around, and she realizes that it might have gone farther than she realized. It’s not as if she was really expecting them to fight about the concluding paper, not really. It didn’t feel like even they could turn that into an altercation.

But what she wasn’t expecting was a profound sense of gratitude, and even something like tenderness. Clarke focuses more on the works, on themes and connections between them that she came to appreciate, and Bellamy almost sounds as if he’s picking up where she left off, running with the same ideas, but talking about them through the act of translation, how interpreting the words brought new meaning, how they put their own meaning into it.

"Did the two of you work together on this one?” she asks. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that they might, but it wasn’t as if she said they couldn’t. She just wasn’t expecting it.

Bellamy ducks his head, looking at Clarke with a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Nah, I guess we’re just on the same page.”

“Yeah,” says Clarke, smiling back at him.

At least they’re not high school students. She probably would have caught them necking before class if they had been.

“Well, the two of you did an excellent job this semester,” she says. “And with no actual bloodshed, I believe?”

“Maybe one time,” Bellamy starts, and Clarke elbows him.

“All your scars are on the inside.”

“What about this one?” he asks, pointing to his lip.

“That one wasn’t my fault.”

Indra has to roll her eyes. “Much as I enjoy spending time with you both, I do have other things to do. If I tell you you’re getting As, will you leave?”

“We’d probably leave even if you didn’t,” Bellamy says. “But I am expecting an A now.”

As always, he holds the door for Clarke as they leave, and Indra smiles.

She might have really done some good there.

*

The next time she sees both of them together, it’s at the classics department holiday party the next year. Bellamy’s leaning in close, and Clarke is laughing, and even if she’d never met them before, it would be obvious they were together.

For all of ten seconds, she hesitates, but there’s no reason for her not to say hello. They’re her students, she likes them.

Clarke spots her first, straightens up like she’s been caught out at something. “Hi, Indra.”

“I almost didn’t recognize the two of you with no one throwing books,” she says.

“No one throwing books yet,” says Bellamy. “Give it time.”

Indra takes a sip of her drink, smiling into the glass. “So, Clarke, have you decided to major in classics, or are you here for another reason?”

“I’m in art,” she says. “I’m just here with Bellamy.”

It’s not a surprise, of course, but it’s still more than a little gratifying. “I’ve never fancied myself a matchmaker,” she says, mild, and Bellamy smiles.

“Maybe you should think about it. You’ve got great instincts.”

“Apparently so. Although, as far as I know, this is my only success story. I don’t believe any of my other tutorial partners have ever ended up dating.”

“Maybe if you really put your mind to it,” Clarke says. “Quit the professor business and go full time.” She glances back over her shoulder at Bellamy. “I probably wouldn’t have given him a second chance if you didn’t make me talk to him every week.”

“Yell at me every week,” he teases, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“You yelled back.”

“Were the two of you actually together during my class?” she asks. “I never was sure.”

“No, not until after,” Bellamy says. “But still–we really do owe you one.”

“Happy to be of service,” she says, smiling herself. “I wish all my classes were that exciting.”

*

As is her custom, she only accepts Clarke’s Facebook friend request after she’s graduated, and life updates pass by on her wall without leaving much of an impression. It’s nice to see her finding a new job and posting occasional pictures of herself and Bellamy, but Indra doesn’t pay much attention. Mostly, she considers Facebook a way to see pictures of her distant relatives, not to keep track of old students.

Still, when Clarke updates her relationship status to engaged and adds, “Yes, Bellamy proposed, and no, he’s still not on Facebook,” Indra, for the first time in her life, uses the heart reaction to a status.

After all that, they’ve probably earned it.

[firesign23]

Phryne Ficathon 3 -- A Lovely Trick

A Lovely Trick

Title: A Lovely Trick Rating: T Chapters: [1/1] Summary: Jack ponders his options two days after the airfield. Author: RubyCaspar ( @rubycaspar) Recipient: LarkAscending ( @larkascending82)