bakerstreet | The "Should Never Be Together" Meme

The "Should Never Be Together" Meme

the "should never be together" meme.
	When two people come together in a relationship, it's a beautiful thing. What can be wrong with love, right? Right? Except when the union is completely and totally wrong, for whatever reason. Then things can get a little messy. How To Play 1. Comment with your character, listing their name, canon, etc, along with any preferences. 2. Comment around to others, using the RNG to determine the scenario. It doesn't have to be a lovey-dovey relationship, obviously. There can be hate, sorrow, lust, whatever. 3. Thread! Have fun! Do things! Scenarios 1. Warring Factions: You belong to rival organizations, armies, clubs, etc. Whatever it is, you're not on the same team. 2. Soldiers on the Battlefield: Or maybe you are on the same side, but this is the wrong time and the wrong place. Plus, attachments cause distractions. 3. Bodyguard and the Guarded: Just like the movie with Kevin Costner! One of you has been hired to protect the other for some reason, and feelings are starting to grow. Are you a professional and cut things off, or do you give in? 4. Prince/ss and Knight: Similar to the above, but with a whole 'nother level of wrong...one of you is royal. Courtly love is okay; still, don't forget your place. 5. Enemies: This vendetta is personal, and you totally hate this person! Don't you? Perhaps you're maybe just rivals, or something as serious as superhero and villain. 6. Family: The ultimate taboo. This person is related to you, so there's no way you should indulge this desire, even if it's the most pure love there ever was. 7. Age Difference: The years between you should keep you both at bay, but it's easier said than done. 10. Teacher/Student: Teachers and students have a unique bond, and to corrupt it is a dangerous thing. Will you dare to act on emotions that could put you both in a destructive place? 11. Already Spoken For: One or both of you are already involved with someone else, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Just know that you can't have your cake and eat it, too. 12. Not Compatible: Your personalities or jobs make it so it's hard for you to be together. 13. Not Compatible...in Another Way: You're both different species, which means you're either afraid to take your relationship to a physical level or you can't because of differences in biologies. 14. Not Ready for Love: You took a vow (or celbacy, of chastity, of dedication), you're married to your work, or you just don't want to be involved with anyone. Too bad! 15. Rich and Poor: One of you has the money while the other is from more modest means. Can the 1% and the 99% ever be bedfellows, literally? 16. Hurt Before: Your heart has been broken, and maybe there's been no time to heal. But here you are. 17. WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

((OOC: Alright, I'll admit: I really despise the nu!52 (I know, a DC-fan who hates the nu!52 these days is such a rarity) and I'm just posting here with the hope of writing either a parody-shipping thread of any of the above scenarios or just a #12 with a Harley Quinn. I'd totally still be up to thread with anyone else--but I would still prefer to do a parody-shipping-thread.))

((probably no Family is for the best.

Canonmates happily welcomed. Non-canonmates also happily welcomed.))

Edited 2013-08-26 03:48 (UTC)

(It had been a long time since she'd seen Sam. A hell of a long time. She wasn't exactly the type of person to pine after someone but she has to admit that she does miss him. She knew all about his job, he was hunter of the supernatural and she was a detective who had come face to face with a family of cannibals. Not exactly supernatural but still scary as fuck.

His job takes him everywhere and her job takes her everywhere. But their paths do overlap every now and again just like today. She's arranged to meet him in the small town and she's smoking a spliff while waiting. She smiles when she spots him making his way towards her.)

Well, hello there stranger.

[Het preference, and no Family scenarios.]

[why

why am i here]

Maglor waits in the antechamber to which he has been led. There are chairs and a table, and on the table is a pitcher filled with water, two cups and a plate laid with simple bread and honey and a piece or two of fruit - refreshment for a messenger who has traveled far and now waits for Oropher and his council to discuss the more public messages he has brought. But Maglor ignores them, spurning the chair in favor of pacing back and forth. His arms are crossed, and he hunches a little, drawing his thin shoulders closer together beneath his thick cloak. However, in sharp contrast to his tense, restless demeanor, the aimless tune that issues from his humming lips is lively and hopeful.

Despite the humming, his ears are trained on the door as he awaits the return of one of Oropher's messengers - or perhaps Oropher himself - to deliver replies and let him know if he will be permitted to deliver his other proposals in person. Maglor has not yet directly revealed his identity, only calling himself Gwaeldor, Brother of Seagulls, and stating that he is a messenger who has come on behalf of Gil-galad and Galadriel and Cirdan, among others.

The door opens, a slight creak that only seems to make the silence in the antechamber feel more palpable. The guard who opened it allows in a golden-haired Elf flanked by two dark-haired guards. He wears no circlet, no particularly spectacular clothing beyond a fine calf-length tunic of dark scarlet wool, the color itself the only potential mark of status. The trim contains gold threads, but that is not so different from how the guards are adorned. The silver rings on his fingers are the real mark of taste, elaborate and bright and set with white gems. His hair is drawn away from his face by a silver clasp, and a sword is girded to his side.

He chose the ensemble to give a sense of officiality, but none of it was actually made for that purpose, not any more than the new mountain palace that has only been built since Amon Lanc was abandoned. It is simply the best he has. Thranduil is not the king, but the son of the king, and has never acted in a diplomatic capacity till now, for it has never been necessary. But Oropher will not speak to a messenger of Gil-galad or Galadriel, least of all one who is a Golodh himself, and was prepared to feed him, supply him, and send him on his way. It was Thranduil who asked for the chance to see what he wanted and speak with him. Oropher saw the wisdom in it, at least, but insisted on the guards. It is not the sort of entourage that would accompany the true king, but it is enough to make a potentially hostile Noldo change his mind.

The door swings shut and Thranduil approaches the messenger. He does not bow and he does not incline his head, immediately taking the position of higher authority.

"I am Thranduil, son of Oropher who is King of the Woodland Realm. I have come to accept your message and to hear news from Lindon."

It...works, maybe. He has never had to have training for this sort of thing, but he's interested in trying it out. Perhaps one day he will serve better in this function than as a captain of his father's forces.

Hearing the door, Maglor ceases to hum and instead turns to face the incomers, uncrossing his arms and shifting into a more relaxed, respectful position. He assesses the diplomat as he enters, taking in the rings, the hair, the sword, the way the man bears himself, the guards. He discerns something of Thranduil's rank even before he speaks, but the introduction serves to confirm it and indeed surprises Maglor who had not expected Oropher's son. In light of this revelation, he assesses Thranduil anew even as he stands before him and gives a polite bow.

"May the stars shine upon the hour of our meeting, Thranduil, son of Oropher."

His own clothing does little to betray his rank, being but simple traveling clothes, and he wears thin gloves to cover the scars on his hand. It is only the familial resemblance to others of the House of Finwe and the brightness of his eyes, which yet hold the Light of the Trees, that offer clues to his true identity. That and - perhaps - the two swords he retains, strapped out of the way across his back. A keen eye that has seen them before might remember but it has been a great many years since last he drew them against his own kin, and now he takes pains to use open, friendly, humble body language. He is no longer a prince, and it does him little good as a messenger to be anything less than gracious and humble.

"I am grateful that you have chosen to at least hear me out, my lord. Our scouts have recently reported rumors that Sauron will soon be launching a large-scale assault upon Gondor. If he does, then my people intend to ally with King Elendil of the Dunedain to repel the forces of Mordor and to take this opportunity to launch a full counterattack to destroy the Enemy while his forces are spread out and his guard weakened. I have been sent on behalf of High King Gil-galad to propose an alliance for this purpose. We are prepared to supply you with additional armaments if necessary. Moreover, if you wish to ally, I have one additional proposal of a more... delicate nature."

There's a dip of his head. A polite and respectful acknowledgement of what has been said.

"Long has my elven-lord foreseen such an alliance will be necessary. He believed your arrival to be the herald of such an event, else it is unlikely he would have permitted you to enter our realm. The terms I am told to deliver to you are this: I am to accept your alliance on my lord's behalf. However, if we are to fight, we will remain as we have ever been--our own people, under one king, who we have chosen to be our king. We will not mingle with those people of Lindon, only fight alongside them. We will not follow the orders of Ereinion Gil-Galad, but the King of the Woodland Realm will be treated as a king in the company of kings, a peer and not a lieutenant. Cooperation will be in the best interest of all, but my lord is not compelled to follow the advice of other kings and will make his own choices when the time comes to make them.

"He trusts you will find these terms agreeable."

All is said in a pleasantly neutral tone.

Edited 2013-09-23 01:24 (UTC)

Maglor bows his head in acknowledgement in return. "I do. These are the terms we had hoped for. We have no desire for anything other than successful coordination to ensure victory against the Enemy. Which is why, in light of an allegiance, I have - as mentioned - an additional offer to improve the efficiency of tactical communications, if you would hear it."

Lifting his eyes, Maglor seeks to meet Thranduil's gaze and hold it steadily as he continues with utmost seriousness: "It is not an offer made lightly nor is it one that should be taken lightly. It will be made once and then not again."

"I am listening." Thranduil has some idea of the offer to come, but would rather hear it before making an answer.

"There are few - if any - methods of communication that are so swift and clear as a union of minds - of thoughts and intentions. Although it is possible to achieve this with the right artifacts, using objects to facilitate is dangerous and can all too easily be exploited if they fall into enemy hands. However, there is a way that while risky in its own way, ensures no such vulnerability if those involved are chosen well." He pauses just for a moment, watching Thranduil carefully. "The linking of souls that we usually call the marriage bond can be quite effective this way when created between two familiar with their own soldiers' strategies and tactics both in planning and in battle itself. It is certainly more reliable than runners or other means of delivering messages and signals across a wide battlefield, and it allows for smooth cooperation and understanding without forcing any particular structure of command.

"Ideally I and someone of your choosing who you believe to be best suited to the role would form such a bond and make use of it for the duration of the coming war. And when we have need of it no more, the simple passage of time and distance without any active renewal will cause the bond to naturally fade until it is barely noticeable."

"You speak of the joining of bodies."

Just call it what it is, dammit. Thranduil resists the urge to fidget, or clasp his hands behind his back, or do anything else with his hands. He will stand here, still as stone, and be a powerful diplomat.

"My elven-lord suspected you would request this."

Specifically, he'd urged Thranduil not to be strong-armed into becoming some Golodh's bitch. Which is a paraphrase. But while Oropher would not say yes in his place, he has placed the power of this conversation in Thranduil's hands, and Thranduil sees the advantage. There is something to this that is more important than prejudices or personal worries and fears.

"I have been prepared to accept this offer, and do so now. With your consent, a servant will lead you to private chambers where you will be joined by the one chosen to join with you."

Not that that's a favor Thranduil can actually ask of anyone. It will be himself or no one.

"Refreshment will be brought and a bath will be drawn. Is two hours sufficient?"

Edited 2014-01-01 00:00 (UTC)

Maglor nods and suppresses the urge to sigh. Part of him had hoped that the offer would be rejected. It isn't a vulnerability he is particularly happy to open himself up to, but he had agreed to it, and what does his own discomfort matter in light of his transgressions and still more in light of what they are facing?

Bowing respectfully, he says, "It is. I thank you for your cooperation."

"And I thank you for your willingness." Thranduil bows his head to his guest. Without further lingering to show his nervousness, he turns and gestures for a servant to begin the task he described. The servant looks distinctly uncomfortable, and a guard will follow them to the appointed room.

The hot bath is already drawn, and another servant quickly arrives with a tray of food and wine only a minute after the other one leaves. Fruits, goat cheese, and cold cuts of venison are supplied, but only one glass of wine and another of water. Someone doesn't want to risk it with the wine. After that, Maglor is left to himself.

Wordlessly, Maglor follows the servant, speaking again only to thank the servants, and then he is left in peace. Only then does he drop the mask of being at ease and rubs his face with his hands, sighing heavily. He smiles wryly to himself and picks up the glass of wine, taking a long sip before setting it down again. No, alcohol is not really what he needs right now, even if he wouldn't mind drinking oh, say a whole bottle right now. Slowly he takes off his clothing, folding it neatly before entering the bath. After the traveling he has done, it's wonderful to just relax for a little while, but he can't entirely enjoy it, thinking of what is to come.

He's been married before, and he has not forgotten his wife, but she dwells in Mandos' halls now, and he knows she has not yet left. And unless he is slain, he doubts he will see her again until the world ends. He has no intention of returning home, after all. Even so, he hopes she understands and is not too hurt by this if ever she learns of it. He has never stopped missing her, though the bond severed by death hurts a good deal less than it once did. He hopes not to inflict that same pain - or any other such pain - on whomever is chosen.

Eventually he leaves the warmth of the bath, dries off and pulls on the dressing gown he was left. He eats lightly and drinks the water but does not have any more of the wine. And he waits, occupying his time with soft singing to himself.

Thranduil's own bath is hurried, meant strictly to clean himself. A drop of oil brings his hair to a bright shine and he goes through several choices in clothing before casting them all aside, sitting hard on his bed, and letting himself panic for three breaths.

He is unwed, and has never lain with another. How will he explain this to any future bride of his? If she does not understand, perhaps she will be unfit to be wed to a political family anyway. That is what he tells himself, and the tightness in his chest eases.

Eventually he chooses a dark red robe of sheer silk, layered for modesty and an illusion of floating folds of fabric. The red brings out the gold of his hair and the little color in his lips and cheeks. He fusses and frets to fill the time until his guard arrives to escort him to Maglor's chambers.

Having guards standing outside hearing him be deflowered is not going to help him concentrate on this.

At last the door to Maglor's guest suite opens, and Thranduil steps through. The door closes behind him as his eyes search Maglor's face. Silent. Searching for a reaction.

The first reaction he gets is surprise. Maglor stops mid-note to stare in shock for a moment or two before he remembers himself and stands, bowing uncertainly.

"Are you ... certain you wish to be the one, my lord?" he asks softly; there can be no other reason why Thranduil is here, dressed like this.

"I could not ask it of another." Thranduil doesn't want Maglor to question it or he'll start questioning it himself. "I am the right choice, regardless. I am the king's son."

He has to remember his legs. Has to step away from the door, toward his guest. He halts an arm's length away, unsure where to begin. Tense. Nervous.

Maglor inhales and exhales slowly, nodding. "You have never been wed, have you." It isn't a question. He can tell but feels the need to state it all the same. "And you are still willing?"

Whether Thranduil wants him to question or not, Maglor feels the need to. He needs to know that Thranduil is actually willing - he has no desire to force him into something Thranduil is not absolutely willing to be a part of. He wonders if Thranduil will still be willing if he knows the truth of Maglor's identity.

"I am not happy, but I am willing." May as well be honest here. It will be evident later, in any case, when they are one. "Are you?"

Since no one has thought to ask Maglor himself.

"I am willing to do what I must." And if that includes this, then so be it. Maglor has never been sure if his willingness to do 'what it takes' is a virtue or a deep flaw, but it is what it is, and he's here now.

"Then we are the same in this."

Thranduil stops talking suddenly, only because he has no idea what to say next. Really, there's nothing to say, is there? Only things to do. And somehow he can't bring himself to start. He doesn't know where to start.

"So it would seem."

And that, too, is that last that Maglor speaks. He watches Thranduil a second or two more before extending his hand to take Thranduil's, if he'll give it, and lead the king's son to a place where they can recline more comfortably. His fingertips are rough and calloused from weapons and harping, and old burn scars have left his palms and fingers slightly twisted.

Thranduil's bears the calluses of of an archer, and shakes slightly when his fingertips brush against Maglor's palm. He can still back out, but he knows somehow that that would be a bad idea. Toward the bed, then, large and soft and pillowed luxuriously.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The "Should Never Be Together" Meme

Arthur Kirkland (England) | Hetalia | MM

Floyd Lawton, aka "Deadshot" | Pre-nu!52 DCU, after Secret Six #36

Vincent Valentine | Final Fantasy VII

Jack Frost | Rise of the Guardians | m/m

Makoto Kino | Sailor Moon | F/M

Rapunzel | Tangled | F/M

Usagi Tsukino | Sailor Moon | F/M (F/F for canonmates)

Yukina | Yu Yu Hakusho | F/M

Botan | Yu Yu Hakusho | F/M

Sam Winchester | Supernatural | M/F

12ish

Molly Hooper (BBC Sherlock)

mordred | bbc merlin

2014!Castiel | Supernatural | OTA

Twiska || Brandish

Captain Jack Harkness | Doctor Who/Torchwood | OTA

Christa Renz ◄ Attack on Titan/Shingeki No Kyojin◄ OTA

Hermione Granger | Harry Potter | OPEN

hermione granger | harry potter (ota)

marian hawke ▶ dragon age ii ▶ ota

Yukina | Yu Yu Hakusho | OTA

Yosuga Mitsuzaki | Deadman Wonderland | OTA

Luke fon Fabre | Tales of the Abyss | OTA

Squall Leonhart | Final Fantasy VIII | OTA

Ganta Igarashi | Deadman Wonderland | OTA

Lord Suzaku | Yu Yu Hakusho | OTA

no subject

Lily Evans | Harry Potter | OTA

Tsunade | Naruto | F/M

Maglor | The Silmarillion | closed

no subject

\o/ look I am making good use of my lunch break

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

IT IS STILL WEIRD TO SEE LEE PACE AS YOUR ICONS NOW

I'm still getting used to it myself

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject