#[Duty and Honor: Prompts and Memes]

[zhongrin]

“oh, hi.” (alternatively, “oh. ugh.”)

◇ characters ◇ (no romantic pairing) kaveh, al haitham, xiao, zhongli, diluc, kaeya, tighnari, cyno, itto, shinobu, ayato, ayaka, collei, amber

◇ tags ◇ no pairing, crack mostly

◇ a/n ◇ lmao this prompt hit me so i just had to write something about it okay?

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

you know how when a character gets added to a team, a voiceline triggers? wouldn't it be fun to have a game mechanic where, depending on who’s in your current party, whoever gets added gets special voice lines about that person?

all prompts will be in this format: “x → y” which essentially means “when x joins and y is in the party”. e.g. when kaveh joins and al haitham is in the party.

kaveh → al haitham

“ugh, not this guy! our aesthetics are ruined now! ruined, i tell you!”

“really? him?? not to be rude, but… you have bad taste.”

al haitham -> kaveh

“tsk. it's useless to say this, but... don’t pull the team down now.”

“an unwise decision. given our fighting styles, there is no need for him to be in the team.”

xiao -> zhongli

“it is my honor.”

“wh- mora- ahem. well... this is… unexpected.”

zhongli -> xiao

“at ease.”

“ah, now this is quite nostalgic.” *chuckles*

diluc -> kaeya

“try not to get in my way.”

“aren’t the knights quite busy these days? why don’t you run along and do your knightly duties now?”

kaeya -> diluc

“to think this day would come once again, huh, big brother?”

“what’s with that look, 'luc? it’s not like i’m skipping out on work~”

tighnari -> cyno

“a wise decision.”

“forewarning, if he makes one more joke, i am leaving the team. or burying him alive.”

cyno -> tighnari

“why did the fox cross the road? to catch up with the chicken… get it?”

“ah, a rare fox sighting outside gandharva village. today’s going to be a good day.”

itto -> shinobu

“yo shinobu!! whooo-hoo!!! things are gonna get crazy in here!!”

“owowowowow- hey why’re you pulling my ears already- i wasn’t getting the traveler in trouble, i swear!”

shinobu -> itto

“ah… is this why you called me in? very well.”

“boss, try not to cause too much trouble, alright?”

ayato -> ayaka

“oh? well hello, dear sister.”

“a family outing? how delightful. now this is definitely worth taking a break for.”

ayaka -> ayato

“huh?! b-brother, what are you doing here? i thought you were busy!”

“ahem. good day, big brother. i am just hanging out with a friend, is all.”

collei -> amber

“a-amber?! it’s been so long! uhm- uh- i-i have so many things i wanted to talk about with you!!”

amber -> collei

“oh my gosh, collei! hi!! you grew up so much!! i’m so glad to see that you’re doing well!”

itto -> cyno

“oh. my. god. cyno? the legendary cyno?? the master of tcg, cyno??? yooooo!!! my bro, my man, my dude, duel me!!”

cyno -> itto

“arataki…. itto…….? my apologies. am i supposed to know who you are? you don’t look like a criminal at all.”

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea

[brassandblue]

MAJOR BENJAMIN TALLMADGE // INTEREST TRACKER

MUSE STATUS: SECONDARY

(By liking this post, you are indicating interest in plotting with this character, and are OK with me sending memes/prompts to your inbox!)

NAME: Benjamin Tallmadge

ALT NAMES: Major (Benjamin) Tallmadge, Major, Tallboy, Bennyboy, John Bolton

SEX/GENDER/PRONOUNS: Male, he/him

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

FACECLAIM: Seth Numrich

AGE: Late 20′s

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: American / caucasian, white

HEIGHT: 6′0″

BUILD/BODY TYPE: He’s a fit, fuzzy twink with a cavalryman booty.

HAIR: Dark honey blonde

EYES: Blue

PINTEREST BOARD

ALL ABOUT BEN:

Per the Turn Wiki here,

Major Benjamin Tallmadge (born February 25, 1754) is an officer for the Continental Army and the 2nd Continental Light Dragoons that went on to become a spy for them during the American Revolutionary War. Joining together with childhood friends Caleb Brewster and Abraham Woodhull, the three formed what would later become the Culper Ring.

The organization received the aid and assistance of various others, including Abe's former lover, Anna Strong. The organization would report to Commander-in-Chief, George Washington. Tallmadge was a Captain until the official founding of the Culper Ring in 1777 and was promoted to Major soon after.

It's clear through his actions that Benjamin Tallmadge is a strong, loyal soldier and a leader with honorable intentions... most of the time. He isn't afraid to bend rules when absolutely necessary, but can sometimes be led too far by his emotions and his own personal sense of justice. Duty and honor are extremely important to him, as are loyalty and trust and the value of his friends; those things he places above all else. He takes his duties very seriously, and there are times he might come off as just an innocent preacher’s son from a backwater fishing village... but he is so much more.

Underneath the pomp and attempts at restraint is a young man who can be hot-headed and stubborn, mischievous, even playful. There are a lot of emotions pent up behind his officer's restraint--a boy trying to become a man, to live up to the image of a gentleman and an officer who carries the burden of command and of the guilt of fallen friends, comrades, and family. All of those ideals and baggage and the burden of caring about so many things and so many people can really weigh on him, can cause him to be short-sighted, restless, irrational. He’s trying--he’s trying to keep himself together, trying to keep the Culper Ring together, trying to run a spy network, trying not to get his friends killed, his dragoons killed, himself killed. As he goes through the war, he grows and becomes disillusioned in some things--namely, Washington himself--but despite everything, he continues to push ever onward for the cause and most importantly, for his loved ones.

WARNINGS: RPing with this character will involve sensitive topics such as mental illness/depression/PTSD, violence/gore/injuries, crude/early surgical and medical topics, amputation, racism/colonialism/imperialism/nationalism, slavery, socio-economic issues past & present, homophobia past & present, possible discussions of cannibalism & definite discussions of war & murder.

By liking this post and indicating your interest to engage in RP with this character, you are accepting the above warnings and have read the rules posted here on this blog.

[defendrelor]

Tag dump!

[maroucia]

Sansan Russian Roulette, summer 2021: the fills!

Here’s all the fills with links for the SanSan Russian Roulette 2021. Thanks everyone for your participation! 😄

Links under the cut!

1. Meet Me In The Moonlight Author: Fleurdeplume: “Dusk. Secret meetings. Stolen kiss. Sansa looks like a little bird but deep down, she's a wolf.” (Prompt from Lysae).

2. Broken Like Me Author: TheImmaculateBastard: “Inspired by a tweet, "I don't know what just happened, but I was at an animal shelter before work and a toddler walked in, pointed to me, and said “I want that one”. His mother looked at me and said “you can’t have that, that’s a grown man”” (Prompt from Lorel).

3. The Eyes Have It Author: Jadedelcinismo: “Sansa is in love with Sandor and is jealous of someone in his life. Canon/AU, your choice.” (Prompt from Missy-1978).

4. A Long Time Coming Author: Vermilion_Sunrise: “Sandor tucks Sansa in bed after her first day as Queen in the North.” (Prompt from Prettybadmagic).

5. Russian Roulette Author: Meganfence: “Fight, argument or other disagreement. Open to interpretation, minor or major.” (Prompt from Redbirdblackdog).

6. One Picture Author: Sharkaria: “Sandor discovers he's got a good eye for photography. He fills his time taking pictures of his urban landscape, until he spies a Little Bird Muse...” (Prompt from Glamgrowl).

7. The Season Author: Missy-1978: “Kinda stole this from the Discord, but I love a forced marriage trope! Maybe Sansa got left at the altar and Sandor steps in last minute. Or a role reversal where she has to marry him to save his honor. Something fun and unexpected, can be modern or set in GOT world.” (Prompt from Atomic-bomb-shell).

8. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓘𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭... Author: TailBobSquid: “Jumanji AU - either a game that they are playing comes to life or they get sucked into a game that they are playing.” (Prompt from ReadyReaderOne).

9. Magic Act! Author: Prettybadmagic: “Sandor is going to do it. He's going to do the kiss your best friend challenge. The friend he just happens to have been in love with since day one.” (Prompt from Islandida).

10. You should meet my Sister Author: Glamgrowl: “Feel good and funny modern au where all Starks are alive and well. Sansa makes the first move on Sandor even though she's not sure she's his type as he is much older and works a blue collar job. (Please no Joffrey bashing) Cameos from other Starks would be awesome but not necessary.” (Prompt from Rayne).

11. better days (just around the corner) Author: Glitterswitch: “Bakery/coffee shop AU Stranger is Sandor’s service animal.” (Prompt from OrangeTabby).

12. A Thin Line Author: LittleWolfBird: “Sandor joins the Stark family traveling circus when he sees a casting call for "freaks." Bonus points for Sansa on trapeze or tightrope.” (Prompt from GlitterGoth114).

13. Feels Like Spring Author: Diverse.lorde: “Sansa playing her high harp (or other instrument) and singing a song that she wrote about/for Sandor.” (Prompt from Neleam).

14. Going Viral Author: Lysae: “Sandor finds out Sansa made him TikTok famous after a video of him goes viral: Sansa: hey can I have x/can we go to y? Sandor: no. Sansa, in a sweet voice: pretty please? Sandor, huffing: fine (Daddy on the end of pretty please would be lovely, but if Daddy Sandor isn’t your thing, no problem).” (Prompt from TailBobSquid).

15. The Package Author: OrangeTabby: “Mafia AU, fancy party. Dominant Sandor, thirsty Sansa Sandor in a suit, hand tattoos, creeping neck tattoo, whiskey - Sansa thirsting.” (Prompt from Meganfence).

16. I Wonder That Too, Ser Chirrup Author: Neleam: “Sanson Stark has always been the dutiful yet idealist second son of House Stark. Sandra Clegane is a Silent sister who has been disappointed by the very songs she once admired. A knight of the Seven and a handmaiden of the Stranger unexpectedly find comfort in each other.” (Prompt from Jadedelcinismo).

17. Good Girl Author: Redbirdblackdog: “Sansa gets her first tattoo by none other than the famous tattoo artist "The Hound". When she's in pain, she exhales slowly and Sandor says, "Good girl". Sexual tension ensues. (This prompt was inspired by a meme.)” (Prompt from Thequeen--in--thenorth).

18. Ever the Same Author: Thequeen--in--thenorth: “Following a tumultuous few years, Sansa has spent every penny she's ever earned on a quiet cottage, surrounded by forest and wildlife. Not long after moving, a strange man appears in the pond near her home, half-alive and unable to remember anything about himself except his name: Sandor.” (Prompt from Suzi).

19. Closure's Overrated Author: Atomic-bomb-shell: “Crust punk modern AU. Sandor is a crustie squatting in the backyard of an abandoned house. Sansa is a friendly neighbor who offers him a warm meal and access to her laundry room.” (Prompt from Diverse.lorde).

20. All Because of a Little Bird Author: Lorel: “Sansa manages a gallery in King’s Landing. After storming out of a fight with her boyfriend, she drives off into the countryside. That’s when she sees the most amazing art behind some dusty glass in a car repair shop. Now all she has to do is convince the artist, Sandor, to do a show at her gallery.” (Prompt from Vermilion_Sunrise).

21. Caught Author: GlitterGoth114: “Walked in on. Caught in the act. "Can opened, worms everywhere." (Prompt from TheImmaculateBastard).

22. Unanswered Author: Islandida: “Robb comes home from war with a big loyal man behind him. Sansa never thought she'd see her brother again let alone *him*. Modern au or canon.’’ (Prompt from LittleWolfBird).

23. Hajime (To Begin) Author: Rayne: “Modern AU: After finally getting out of an unhappy/controlling relationship with Joffrey that desecrated her self-worth, Sansa enrolls for self-defence classes with martial arts Master Clegane, who proceeds to build up her self esteem and fighting skills while the two fight their mutual attraction.” (Prompt from Fleurdeplume).

24. Thig crìoch air an t-saoghal, ach mairidh gaol Author: Suzi: “Prompt submission -- passionate time travel.” (Prompt from Sharkaria).

25. His flame Author: ReadyReaderOne: “Sansa leaves with the Hound that night. Their journey thru Westeros is loosely similar - Arya, Twins, etc. They find Elder Brother to help Sandor. After healing, all 3 head for Braavos, and the Dragon Queen. Lots of friendship/bonding b/t all 3; both defend Sandor from Dany. Devoted sansan, HEA!’’ (Prompt from Glitterswitch).

[burden-and-truth]

This one always goes well, considering my boy's sheer UNIT power. You'll even get some snark from Garen himself :)c

Send your character's height and I'll compare it to mine.

Using this site

[salmonthestoryteller]

20 questions, writer's edition

I was tagged by @lambourngb - This was harder to fill out then it first appeared, btw.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

118

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

516,223.  I never looked that much at my statistics page before so that’s exciting to look at.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Oh my gosh, so many.  25 different ones on ao3, 9 more that were never cross posted from the pit of voles, and at least 5-10 fandoms from prior to either of those sites.  LJ, Yahoo Groups, BBS boards, etc.    A partial list includes: Roswell New Mexico (2019) (My most prolific with 40 fics on ao3 and more here on tumblr I never cross posted there.), Hetalia, Yuri on Ice, Supernatural, Samurai Warriors, Uta no Prince-sama, Voltron, Shadowhunters, My Hero Academia, Pirates of the Caribbean, Animal Kingdom, The Old Guard, The Walking Dead, Dynasty Warriors, The Witcher, Xyber 9, Shadow Raiders, Mummies Alive, Babylon 5, and Star Trek.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes (The Old Guard) (Yeah, I had this one on anonymous for awhile.) 

Until the TIme is Through (Roswell New Mexico) (Part of my Canon Divergent To the Moon and Back Series) 

I Want You (Roswell New Mexico) (NSFW Malex) 

Crash and Burn (Roswell New Mexico) (Part of my Canon Divergent To the Moon and Back Series) 

Snow (Hetalia) (NSWF IvanxAlfred) 

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I’m torn between three actually:

Dormant (Hetalia)  I always say I love two endings, happy endings and greek tragedies, but I rarely write the greek tragedies.  Dormant is one of my exceptions.  Hetalia has one character who is hinted at being immortal, and I took that and wrote a fic about an Extinction Level Event and him watching the other characters die around him while he can’t.  I’ve always been really proud of this fic, despite it being one of the saddest things I’ve ever written.

Unclean (Roswell New Mexico)  Which is almost the darkest fic I’ve ever written.  It’s about Michael’s time in the home of the “Fundamentalist Religious Freaks” and the exorcism he mentioned.  It ends after the drifter and is very much hurt, no comfort.

Hell is… (Roswell New Mexico)  This is a ficlet I wrote for a prompt.  And it’s a dark take about what could have happened to the pod squad if they’d been caught after the murders.

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Almost all my fics have happy endings.  So, what is the happiest?  Probably either:

Deck the Halls (Roswell New Mexico)  An Echo & Malex Christmas fic that is as fluffy as a fic that involves the Pod Squad, Christmas, and being attacked by anti-alien paramilitary groups can be.  (Also, Echo has a cat called Grisabella the Glamour Cat because Max should not be allowed to name anything and nobody can convince me that wouldn’t be absolute canon in a committed Echo relationship.)

Or

In Over Their Heads (Yuri on Ice)  A Seungchuchu with a fake engagement and unrequited feelings that aren’t actually unrequited. (And where Sara is Seung’s best friend because apparently I always write them that way and have no regrets.)

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I don’t write crossovers.  Because I rarely find myself sold on the idea that the two stories exist in the same verse or can think of a way the characters would interact that would inspire me to write a fic.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, and pretty much anything.  M/M, F/F, M/F, and Poly.  Plus a large variety of kinks.  (Yes, I was often on kink memes back in my LJ days.)

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to?  I used to never respond because I didn’t know what to say, and then I tried to respond to every one, but there would be long gaps between when I checked and then I felt bad for responding so late, and sometimes I still don’t know what to say so I just end up not replying.  XD

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Surprisingly very little.  Some harsh criticism - one in particular actually hit young me hard enough to stop writing for a while back in the day.  But I tend to get more hate for my meta than my fics.  Which is odd since my fics are usually very much representative of my meta.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Only one - a Dynasty Warrior fic of mine about the bond between CaoCao and Xiahou Dun was translated into Chinese.  I mean, Dynasty Warriors is a video game literally based on The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which is based on chinese history, so for someone to want to translate one of my fics about it was incredible to me. Links below.

Honor 

Translation: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589910

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.  I would probably drive a co-author nuts, tbh.  I’m so inconsistent.  And at the same time, I have a thousand thoughts.

14. What's your all time favourite ship? to write for?

I don’t actually have one?  RNM has become my top fandom to write for, there’s no doubt.  And while I think Malex is in the most fics among them, I’m not sure if that number surpasses other ships in other fandoms I’ve written for altogether.  In fact, according to ao3, only 15 fics of my 40 RNM even have Malex in them at all, and not all of those are Malex-centric.  In fact in at least 3, they’re a side ship.

I’d say that I probably write almost as many fics that are gen, friendship, family/found family feels, and character introspection as I do shipping fics.  Which doesn’t really leave room for any one ship to be at the forefront.

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

None, I hope.  LOL.  There’s definitely a few that I have left uncompleted for a long time and feel guilty about but I’m not ready to say I’ve abandoned them yet.  There’s a ton of ideas I have written down that I may never actually write.  But none I have started that I don’t want to finish.

16. What are your writing strengths?

The three consistent compliments I’ve gotten are:  I capture the characters’ voices in my dialogue.  My writing tone is unique.  My smut is super hot.  XD  (I have no explanation for the last one, because to be honest ¾ of my smut is always foreplay.)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes.  I have been told before that my action scenes are very confusing.  Also, I rarely give physical descriptions of people’s appearances because I honestly rarely stop to consider what they’re wearing or how their hair is done.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It’s common in a couple of fandoms of mine, and I actually don’t mind it. Depending on the fic, it can be more realistic to me than otherwise.  (I just appreciate it when the translation is also provided.)

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  But I never posted that one.  Um… I think Ranma ½ was the first one I ever posted for others to read?

20. What's your favourite fic you've written?

Oh, gosh. Um… I know at one point I listed Dormant.  But I think right now if I had to choose I’d say either

School of Hard Knocks (Roswell New Mexico)  Which is my Michael-centric fic set in the lost decade.

Or

Duty First (Shadowhunters)  My Magnus and Raphael “missing scene” from 02x20.

Tagging @manesalex @lovecolibri @islndgurl777 @ninswhimsy 

[koyacyi-vode]

For the prompt meme, maybe #4 with Wolffe and Plo? Or #49 with Fox and Rex?

[On Ao3]

I bet you thought I forgot about this. || Prompt from this post from forever ago

Prompt 4 - “We’re designed to be disposable.”

Characters: Wolffe and Plo

The rest under a readmore!

>CT-4113. KIA. 13:10:17. Abregado System. Enter.

>CT-6719. KIA. 13:10:17. Abregado System. Enter. 

CT Number. Date of death. Enter.

Wolffe typed designations and numbers into his datapad, trying not to visualize the faces that accompanied them. The task was as monotonous as it was painful. But Wolffe tried not to think about that. He had to keep going, keep serving, keep on task.

The words on the holoscreen were starting to blur. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting at his desk typing number after number. It was a task that had to be done, logging the dead. He'd just never had to do it for so many at once. He'd started to feel completely numb from it.

>CT-0159. KIA. 13:10:17. Abregado System. Enter.

CT Number. Date of death. Enter. 

Wolffe heard the distant hiss of the door to his quarters, but he didn't look up, his gaze transfixed on the seemingly endless stream of numbers in front of him. From the nearly silent entrance he knew it was General Koon. He really should stand at attention to greet him. It was disrespectful to ignore him. He didn't look up. 

"Commander?" the familiar soft and muffled cadence of his General's voice made Wolffe's fingers stutter on the holokeys. He picked back up a moment later. 

CT Number. Date of death. Enter. 

"Commander, you're working in the dark," Plo pointed out gently, and Wolffe heard the soft swish of the General's robes as they swept across the floor. Wolffe chose not to respond. He didn't know what to say. "Would you like me to turn on your light?" the General asked. Wolffe swallowed roughly, glancing quickly up to Plo before back to the holoscreen, continuing his typing where he left off.

"No. Thank you, General," he said, his voice hoarse and scratchy from disuse. He'd meant it as a subtle dismissal, but he wasn't surprised when Plo made no move to leave. 

"You'll hurt your eyes staring at a holoscreen in the dark, Wolffe," and there was a thin thread of admonishment in Plo's tone. 

"I'm fine, Sir," Wolffe assured, even though he was undermined by the raspy edge to his voice. "I need to-" Wolffe swallowed with difficulty, his throat dry, "uh, I need to finish this report in order to send our troop replacement requisitions," he explained.

CT Number. Date of death. Enter.

The General was quiet for several seconds, but Wolffe heard a barely-there shuffling as he walked across the room. When the General remained silent for longer than Wolffe expected, he finally ripped his gaze from his holoscreen and froze. 

Plo was standing in front of Wolffe's armor storage, turned slightly away from him with one hand pressed gently to the side of Wolffe's empty helmet. Wolffe had received his replacement armor in the last shipment to the Resolute, which was where the remainder of the 104th was stationed until their replacement cruiser arrived. It had felt a bit like a hard punch to the face to see his mended armor, shiny and new and perfect. He hadn't been able to put it on yet. Each time he'd tried, his chest had constricted to the point where he couldn't breathe. The last time he attempted it, he'd ended up stripping his kit off in such a rush that he'd hurled his vambrace across the room. He'd left it in storage ever since. Plo ran a careful finger down the deep maroon markings that Wolffe had once worn with pride and then lowered his head. 

"I'm sorry," Plo said, an audible strain in his quiet voice. "I have failed all of you as a General. You put your trust in my leadership, but I led us directly into a trap I could not forsee. I brought forth this destruction, and you and your brothers paid the price. It is an irreplaceable loss. It is not a mistake I will make again," he said with a surprisingly hard edge to his voice that Wolffe hadn't heard before. Plo's hand dropped from Wolffe's helmet and joined his other under the sleeves of his robe, his head bowing forward slowly in a gesture Wolffe recognized from their few months working together as the Kel Dor's acknowledgment of grief.

Wolffe had been surprised the first time the General had mourned for one of his fallen brothers. It was something his training had not prepared him for. He placed the lives of clones over the completion of a mission, something Wolffe had learned after failing to capture the Nexus during the siege of Hisseen. It was a quality that perhaps didn't make Plo Koon the most effective General from a tactical standpoint, but was what had earned him Wolffe's deepest respect nonetheless. Wolffe was also well-aware that his General's compassion was a considerable weakness in the tragedy of war. Because loss wasn't something they could avoid. 

"We are designed to be disposable, General. We are cogs in a machine, and like parts, we can be replaced," he said, even though he knew that Plo had heard this sentiment before. It was a saying they were taught from their youngest days of training. As clones, they were part of a much larger whole. The individual was not worth more than their collective duty.

"You are people," Plo insisted, just like Wolffe expected he would. It made a rueful smile twitch at the corner of Wolffe's mouth. Plo turned to him a bit more fully and it was hard to tell his expression in the dark, the blue glow from Wolffe's holoscreen casting a ghostly silhouette on the General. "You are not broken machinery to be cast aside and forgotten. We can replace the numbers of our troops, but we cannot replace the individuals we have lost. Do you really believe what you just said, Commander?" 

The question being turned on him made Wolffe stiffen in surprise. He'd never been asked that before and so openly. Plo must have known from how he had said the phrase that it was something Wolffe just repeated, but didn't truly believe. He's not sure he ever really believed it. It was one of the few teachings the kaminiise attempted to instill that they never could get to stick. The bonds between vode made it impossible to treat each other with the same coldness their creators regarded them with. They would parrot the phrase when needed, but few clones truly felt that their vode were disposable. Fox, in a private conversation far away from prying ears, had even called it 'a manipulation tactic to make the nat-borns feel better about us dying in droves'.

But it was one thing to harbor such feelings in private or among brothers, it was another to deliberately renounce one of the core factors of their designed purpose to others, particularly a superior officer. So Wolffe stayed quiet. Plo waited patiently for him to respond, and when it was clear he wasn't going to the Kel Dor sighed. 

"I understand your hesitation in voicing such an opinion. And I apologize for asking that of you," he said with a small bow of his head. "If you could Commander, I would like for you to get some rest. Please forward me the report you are working on and I will finish it for you," he gestured vaguely to Wolffe's forgotten holoscreen. General Koon made it to the doorway before Wolffe finally broke his silence.

"I can't put on my armor," he burst, voice cracking. "I can't even look at it without seeing them. I've input over two-hundred numbers into this casualty report. Two-hundred brothers who had names. I can't- I've never-" Wolffe pulled in a ragged breath, clutching at the sides of his head. He flinched when he sensed the General's presence at his side. Plo telegraphed his movements so Wolffe was aware of precisely where he was, and laid a single clawed hand on Wolffe's shoulder, squeezing lightly. Wolffe choked back a quiet sob, biting heavily into his lip until he tasted blood, his eyes screwed shut. Plo knelt so he was closer to Wolffe's eye-level.

"Your burden is heavy, Commander. Heavier than most and weighed by your strong sense of duty," Plo said gently. 

"I've never felt so useless, Sir," Wolffe whispered, voice brittle and broken. "I keep thinking, if I had been better prepared, or if I’d had my armor and could have helped I-" he cut himself off with a wet sob.

"You did the best you could, Commander, and the men you saved are alive thanks to your efforts in that pod with keeping our signal alive," Plo reasoned, his brow furrowed together with honest sincerity. Wolffe struggled to steady his breathing, taking several shallow breaths before finally managing a full inhale. His chest burned and his cheeks were wet and Plo was looking at him without an ounce of judgement. Wolffe looked up at the ceiling, tilting his head back.

"I don't want them to be forgotten, Sir. They're the 104th. They can't just... disappear. They can't be erased like that," he pleaded weakly. 

"As they live on in our hearts and the Force, they deserve to be honored; I agree Commander," Plo stood in a slow, fluid motion and made his way back to Wolffe's armor storage. Wolffe watched as he quietly took a vambrace from its resting place and brought it back to Wolffe's desk and offered it to him. "What do you see here, Commander?" Plo asked in that vaguely leading way that Jedi do when they're teaching some important philosophical lesson. Wolffe hesitated before taking the vambrace carefully from Plo's hands, turning it around in his own as he examined the painted markings. 

"My vambrace, Sir?" Wolffe asked, not entirely sure where the Jedi was heading with this. 

"You told me your armor reminds you of our battalion, tell me why," Plo encouraged, unhurried. Wolffe swallowed painfully, his fingers brushing over the fresh, unscuffed paint. Just looking at it made something painful spasm in his chest.  

"It's our colors, Sir," he answered, voice far away. 

"Your colors are as much a part of your battalion as the men are. Perhaps then, this shade can honor their memory. They were the 104th who wore red, it is theirs," Plo suggested, because he was compassionate and cared. He knew how much their armor and their colors meant to clones. Their colors represented their aliit, their family, their closest brothers. They wore their colors with pride and honor. Painting their armor meant being woven into a clan and protecting one another. His clan, his brothers, his 104th was gone. Their colors would remain with them. Wolffe's fingers tightened around his vambrace as his voice caught in his throat. He spent several seconds just trying to get words past the lump in his throat, his hands trembling.

"Tha-thank you, Sir," he stammered out, his voice shaky and uncontrolled. But Plo had always encouraged the expression of emotion, and to not feel shame for the feelings that flowed through them. Wolffe had still always kept a tight lock on his own emotion around the men, because he had to stay strong as their Commander. But he was the lowest-ranking officer in the room at the moment. So he didn't hold back the grateful tears that fell from his eyes or the sobs that cracked from his throat. And Plo kept a steady, gentle hand on Wolffe's back as he cried through his grief. 

---

Wolffe woke the next morning feeling like his eyes were glued together. He groaned and sat up rubbing at the uncomfortably tight feeling on his face. He didn't remember going to sleep the night before, or finishing his report. Belatedly he realized he must have passed out from exhaustion and the General must have carried him to his cot. 

Fox must never know.

He scrubbed once more at his face before getting up. It was a bit later than he normally woke up, but he still had some time before the refectory started serving breakfast.

He stepped into the 'fresher, glancing in the mirror and scowling at how red his eyes were. He supposed that was expected, but he wouldn't be caught dead looking like this to his men or the men of the 501st. He pivoted in the small refresher and turned the water to his shower to just-under scalding. He washed the remaining tear tracks off of his face and let the water try and loosen some of the overly-tight muscles in his shoulders and back. He let his mind go blank and empty, deciding not to examine anything that happened the night before just yet. He stayed only a minute longer than his regular routine, then got dressed in fresh officer's greys. He opted out of shaving the now more prominent stubble on his face, but he was technically on leave, so it didn't really matter. 

He checked his chronometer and decided he had about two hours until he would be considered 'late' for breakfast, and sat down to finish the Abregado casualty report, or at least get further with it. He tapped in his passcode and the report popped immediately on screen. Except, it was finished. Wolffe double and triple checked and scrolled through the hundreds of designations multiple times before coming to the bottom of the report again to see his name along with the General's scrawled signature. A warm rush of gratefulness spread through his limbs and Wolffe had to fight to keep his composure.

Wolffe sprung up from his chair, grabbing his holster (habit) and practically ran from his quarters to search for the General. It was still early in the rotation, so there were just a few lone troopers and the stray group or two, each giving him a rushed salute as he barreled past. 

He finally tracked the Jedi down in the barracks, sitting on one of the cots with Boost and Sinker squished together across from him. Whatever he was saying, they were completely focused on him and didn't look up until Plo himself turned to acknowledge Wolffe's arrival. 

"Good morning Commander," be greeted serenely. 

"You finished my report, Sir," Wolffe said, wincing when it sounded a bit like an accusation. "You didn't have to do that," he added to soften it. Plo nodded his head solemnly. 

"I wanted you to get some rest, Commander. You needed it," he said, his hands curled in on each other, relaxed. 

"Yeah you look terrible, Commander," Boost grinned, but Wolffe let him have it since that was how the kid coped. 

"I think we should do it, Sir," Sinker said, looking at Wolffe with steely, sad eyes. "If there's any way we can honor them, it's that," he smiled tightly and couldn't hold eye contact. Wolffe looked at Plo, realizing that he had gone to ask them their permission to change their colors, because he respected their opinions. 

"I agree, Sir," Boost added, the humor gone from his voice. "It doesn't feel right, wearing their colors," he looked to Sinker and grimaced and Sinker nodded, gripping his vod firmly on the shoulder. 

"You got a color in mind, Wolffe?" Sinker asked, looking back at him. He was giving Wolffe the choice. Wolffe thought for a moment and then cleared his throat, not trusting his voice not to crack again.

"I think grey," he said carefully. Because every clone knew what grey armor meant. They'd gleaned their roots from Mandalorian culture, and color could speak for itself. Grey was for mourning. Because by acknowledging their loss and their grief, Wolffe and the little remainder of the 104th was saying 'we are not disposable and we will not forget'. Grey was their mourning, but also their defiance. 

Plo nodded approvingly at him. Wolffe didn't know if the Jedi knew about the color meanings they were utilizing, but he must have felt the gnawing, determined conviction rise in Wolffe's chest at the declaration. The General scooted over to the side of the cot, gesturing for Wolffe to sit down. Wolffe nodded gratefully and sat next to him. 

Sinker grinned fiercely, tears in the corners of his eyes as he grasped Wolffe's hand in a tight grip. Wolffe reached out and held Boost's hand as the trooper tried to keep his composure. They sat in their isolated circle, holding each other together. 

"Grey it is, then" Sinker said, eyes bright. 

"Grey it is," Wolffe agreed.

[kiwilart]

E for the fandom meme!

Thank you for asking! ;u;

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what

Hmm... I guess this one depends of the person, as everyone sense of humor is different, but I just answered another ask with a slightly crack idea, also wrote a KaiShin fic that for my questionable sense of humor is hilarious (do not trust my sense of humor, I watch animes with weird plots because I find them hilarious as well).

I also have a list with 50+ incorrect quotes that I made for me to draw... That I’m not drawing. But as of the moment I answered this ask, I did two (2)! So that’s a thing. You can find them on my incorrect quotes tag!

I don’t know if it counts, as I never shared them outside of the KaiShin discord, but I have a few crack/slightly crack ideas (because I either go angst or humor, no in-between), Kaito The Game Character is one of my favorites. I even have a silly drabble about it. More about the idea under read more! :D

Ask me things? :D (I’m still bored and can’t draw. Hope my new PC arrive soon ;w;)

Being a self-aware player character in a video game has its perks. Kaito doesn't need to think too hard about the consequences of his actions because ultimately everything would work out and if he is almost dying, he knows he will respawn later.

Kaito only wishes his player was less of an idiot.

Shinichi is a romanceable Knight NPC, but originally only for female characters. The player used a mod to make him romanceable, but the voice lines can’t change, so he keeps calling Kaito a princess and overall acting like Kaito was a girl.

The game has a really generic romance route.

The player spends a lot of time modding the game to add romantic events for Kaito/Shinichi

Kaito is well aware of what the player does and facepalm all the time. He just wants to save the kingdom and finish the game for good, but the player keeps doing sidequests and adding events.

He is programmed to fall in love with whoever the player chooses to romance and he can’t help it, but couldn't he at least be treated like the warrior he is instead of a delicate princess? Who are the creators of the game to write female playable character romances like that? He wants to have a conversation.

Kaito hates how much he loves NPC Shinichi anyway

Lots of shenanigans with classics like pressing A too many times to talk and repeating NPC dialogue, saving over and over again, jumping for nor reason or running and circles and walking straight to the walls (and not a single NPC acknowledging it)

And for the silly drabble... I just wanna say that I wrote this in one go just before sleeping and I never polished it up (and probably never will, unless brain decides for me to flash this scene more, which for now seems unlikely).

It was based on a memorable Dragon Age 2 fight of mine.

Kaito is the chosen hero, destined to save the world from calamity. He's invincible, unstoppable and incredibly handsome, able to woo anyone he desires. A true force of nature. 

When the king's court was being attacked by the demon pirates and their leader, Kaito and his party showed up on time to save the day, as it's their duty as saviors of the realm. 

To avoid needless bloodshed, the leader of the demon pirates proposed an one-on-one duel with a chosen champion. If the king's champion wins, they would leave without causing anymore destruction, if the pirates win, their leader would be the new king. 

With Kaito on their side, they didn't hesitate to accept the proposal. How could they not, with the chosen hero at their side? 

That's why Kaito now is about to fight the leader. They get ready to fight and… Kaito starts running desperately through the arena, running away from the leader while casting fireballs from the distance? 

Kaito would facepalm if he was physically capable to. How could he forget his player's tendency to panic in fights and just run away from everything? Especially from such a heavy hitter like this demon going against Kaito's poor defenses as a mage. If the player tries to fight with the minimum shade of honor, Kaito would be destroyed and they would have to start the fight all over again, his player is that bad at dodging. 

Thinking more about it, isn't he basically a blood mage, a practice frowned upon and chased down by the church? How is he the glorified hero again…? 

Humiliating twenty in real life minutes of Kaito running away like a scared chicken passed when the leader's HP finally drops to zero. The crowd goes wild cheering, congratulating him for winning the fight and saving the kingdom. 

"You won a fair fight." the leader says. "It was an honour to duel with someone as admirable as you. As promised, me and my crew will retire and never bother this land again. You have my word."

That's nice and all that, but please don't tell Kaito that this was any sort of honorable duel, he's already dying inside as it is. 

"As expected of the champion!" 

"Long live the hero!" 

"Hurraaaay!" 

A familiar figure approaches Kaito and takes his hand to press a kiss on it. 

"I knew that my princess would be capable of taking care of the pirate leader alone." Shinichi says. 

Oh? Not treating Kaito like a breakable figure for once? Now that's an improvement. Maybe the romance route isn't that bad, after all? 

Without any kind of prompt, Shinichi holds Kaito and carries him bridal style."You must be tired after all this fighting, let me carry you to the room the king is giving is for tonight, you should rest."

Kaito tries to fight the blush appearing on his face. First that pathetic excuse of a fight, now he is being carried out of the arena, this is just getting more and more humiliating. 

Then again, from here he has an excellent vision of Shinichi's face, the way he looks at Kaito like he's the most precious person in the world… 

Oh well, Kaito supposes he can live with that.

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Bring Home to Family”

Summary: Being parents bleeds new colors into a typical wedding anniversary for Erendor and Samara when confessions start pouring in the newly established change in their relationship. Having a fuller family to look after elicits promises neither of them would have thought they'd have the occasion or the desire to make.

A/N: When am I gonna learn that looking at prompts/writing memes/anything that can spawn writing is not a good idea? Until then have this.

Erendor emerged from the walk-in closet to his bedchamber still swallowed in darkness that allowed almost no shadow to form behind Samara whose silhouette was just barely outlined in his private space by the meek moonlight finding its way into the room through the thick clouds suffocating the night sky. She hadn't gotten the lights upon entering only to give the spotlight to the reaction of his pulse towards the opening door, announcing her arrival.

She'd fallen behind after dinner to stop by the nursery and check up on Sky who was settling in his new home–after only a couple of months–better than she was in yet another year of marriage. He hadn't fallen for her attempts to hide it despite her kept promise to come find him after soothing her own worries. The warmth of the late spring evening made the air of distance around her tangible like it wasn't even as she was occupied with the vast uncertainty of the future to slip away from the now.

She hadn't reacted to his presence yet in spite of her habit of waking up at the slightest shift in the mattress that was rarely him leaving bed and just seeking the comfort to fall back asleep. He could have thought she was looking back on their wedding night or the more relaxed and enjoyed anniversaries that had followed if she weren't facing the window, her mind not with him. It was somewhere out there chasing something he couldn't see while she twisted and twirled the ring around her finger.

That was her usual state – observing the details that slipped his notice and considering what he wouldn't have caught on to even if his life depended on it. The ring fiddling was new though. She never drew anyone's attention to all the gold adorning her fingers when it spoke of itself. She never drew her own attention to the lack of a wedding band that separated her from all her ladies-in-waiting. She was the queen and that was what they all had to remember – as stated by the shining crown on her head.

The crown was given a rest now, though, his own keeping it company in the safe in his closet to leave him with just Samara. His wife.

"What's wrong with you?" He approached slowly, his voice already startling enough to trigger her defense mechanisms as it dragged her out of her own thoughts to where he demanded her attention. Sometimes there was no other way than brute force to draw her out on common ground, though. She'd just stay behind her own eyes where his gaze didn't dare poke, unreadable stillness falling over her as if merging with the trap her mind had become made it bearable to remain caught inside.

A tilt of her head in the direction of his words threatened to be the only acknowledgement he received before she stepped aside to free the space she'd just occupied for him. "I thought I'd get used to this by now," she let her voice keep his company even if it was just above a whisper – as if to prove to them both that she wasn't forcing it out against her will. "Our marriage." Her hands dropped at her sides slowly to attract no interest in the action when the rest of her was a more alluring sight. "It's still so... new," she still grasped at all the time he gave her just for the little word.

She always found the right thing to say, only, it was usually right there on the tip of her tongue. This speech–confession–was coming from the deep, from the pit of her stomach or from her heart maybe. Dread was not something he'd seen on her to be able to tell if that was what had wrapped her up like she was an anniversary surprise herself or if they could both relax in the wake of the words.

"It's hard to believe it's been so long... or that it has all been... real." Her voice had that who-would-have-thought lilt to it that could have shaken his ego to the core if it hadn't been her own mind bleeding on her the reality of their union. The reality she'd met all their other anniversaries in.

"You're thinking about the wedding you wanted?" Any other girl her age would have gotten hearts and flowers, piles of presents and a loving marriage. Instead she'd carried Eraklyon's Spine down a path of almost thousand steps–something they had in common, except she'd had to get through the mosaic his own reign had added to the splendid display of the kingdom's history–and hadn't bowed under the burden of the metal contraption on her back even while accepting the weight of the crown on her head. She'd passed the test of her will and decorum only to get none of the following ceremonies in her honor.

Her coronation had been compressed to just the essentials leaving her with all the duty and not even a touch of the glamor of the title of queen. Despite the royal bearings of the event, the two of them could have found a better balance between the appearances the ruling couple had to keep and the experiences any newlywed had the right to if it hadn't been for her mother's meddling. Though, meddling would imply that she had only inserted herself in their process when, in reality, she'd been the one who had orchestrated the whole thing.

Samara looked back to the darkness outside as if to decipher its secret of hiding the stars. Some of the light they would have shed on the palace had the sky been clear could have headed towards them years ago on a night during which he hadn't been a part of her life and she had had the opportunity to design her own life she hadn't devoted to the monarchy. It would have stung him to ward him off regardless of the weakness of being worn out by all that space it had traveled through by virtue of not coming from Eraklyon's sun. But the sky was covered by a curtain blocking it out from interfering to leave them alone in the quiet room where he could hear every one of her breaths and follow all the movements of her lips and her chest.

"There was never a wedding I wanted," Samara admitted, her rigid tone too familiar to be the voice of her wariness after she'd been nothing but a warrior queen, skilled beyond belief on the field of political intrigues. And in private she had shed the armor in which she'd secured every single one of her thoughts to protect them from even the strongest of blood magic.

His time for dreams had been crushed by the burden of fortifying the monarchy his parents had pushed on his head with little regard to his young age that could have collapsed under the weight of such monstrous responsibility as carrying the tradition of the dragon-taming kingdom. Samara, on the other hand, hadn't had permission to imagine her own future in a way that served her and no one else with her mother's ambitions strapped to her back to force on her the resilience to uphold Eraklyon's Spine. Even without him in her life, she would have never clawed out of her mother's iron fist the freedom to choose her own husband just like he hadn't had the power to choose his wife even though he'd carried the title of king from the ripe age of eighteen.

He'd looked for an ally, not for a woman to be happy with. He'd been looking for her family’s influence to keep his face from smashing in the ground under the neck-breaking value of the ancient piece on his head, not for the soothing support of her touch on his arm after a night of restless sleep.

His whole attention was on her to leave for him the tangible awareness that she could sense the insistent presence of his gaze on the outside of her dress. "But now there is?" He'd taken her hand to lead her into the palace and slip a crown on her head regardless of the circumstances and their feelings on the matter and it had changed the heart of Eraklyon to have a woman like her sitting on the throne beside him.

She caught his eye, her irises illuminated like the sun was within reach by the surprise of him having gathered her words in his palm to sift through them in search of the real shine amidst the fool's gold. He could never raise a hand to shield his eyes from the shining wonder in hers that was both praise and gratitude. She held him upright as long as he held her. And she let herself go as he pulled her into his arms despite the rarity of the gesture. Everything did feel new anyway, not just in her mind, but in the space between them, too.

Samara bowed, pressing her forehead against his chest to leave only the crown of her head visible to him. It would have been a genius strategy of keeping him in the dark about the audience in her mind if not for the quiet words framing her honesty as a picture he would devote the whole palace to storing if it could offer the privacy of both their liking.

"We never really..." she ran a hand through her hair as if looking for a thread to tie her thought together. Or a ribbon to hold her in one complete package like a neatly wrapped gift in a box but she was no gift. That would imply she was an inanimate object and the idea was a slap in the face no physical entity would have allowed itself after all the gifts she'd given him and the whole kingdom.

He might have called her a blessing if he had belief in a higher force but the crown was the tallest institution he had seen. It would prickle anything looming over his head to repel the threat and leave his hand free to place on her shoulder instead of clutching at the hilt of a sword even with the blood covering it.

"We never truly committed to each other," Samara raised her head to hold his gaze, her voice just loud enough for him not to strain to hear it as all the strength had retreated into her straight spine. "We just signed our separate existence away." And had sworn their efforts in service of the stagnant land of their home.

"We had our own agreement." He hadn't laid with the serpent's offspring on their wedding night like he'd feared. She'd been so soft in his hands, every movement delicate like glass, including her breathing. Had she trusted him, it would've been an invitation to lay his head on her chest and listen to the honest cipher of her heart which he would've taken and let her snap his neck with an unnatural motion he'd caused in the rhythm of her existence had he trusted her.

It had been a mutually beneficial alliance that had kept her vulnerability in his eyes. Now she was covered in edges and tearing herself away from his embrace he had to loosen if he didn't want his pain poked in under his skin.

"We made a deal that was in its essence each of us hoping the trust we agreed to wouldn't blow up in our faces," she'd already put half a room between them to give the impact space to dissipate.

She was right. He'd only truly believed she was on his side and not ambushing him from the shadows to stab him in the back once her family had been out of the reach of their own influence as they'd fled from the relentless hunt for her inheritance Samara had set out on. And she hadn't had the comfort of the same reassurance on his territory with his will bearing down on her neck. She had only settled in the pull between them after he hadn't let her drown in the realization of her infertility. And she'd paid the price of needing the security of his arms around her in the first place.

He couldn't reach for her with the reminder of that so he had to broach the topic from the angle she'd chosen. "Since then every day has been a promise of sorts." Conviction escaped him through the haze of worry wrapped around him in a barrier to keep away from her anything that could assault her with the disbelief it caused.

Samara stopped in front of the mirror on the wall to give voice to the truth in her reflection. There was barely a movement in her, her head lowered as she waited for him to lift her chin – either with a gentle touch or with the indignation he'd trigger if he stepped over a line.

"We promised each other trust and we've kept our word all this time," he tried staying put, away from her. It had never been physical distance he'd had to overcome to reach her and that hadn't changed amidst the evolution of their marriage. "Year after year to make it to yet another celebration," she had a great touch for those making them all unforgettable in his mind unlike the events marking his reign. Before her, that was. "Another anniversary." He could never forget what their marriage carried to maintain the monarchy, the secret only she could understand weighing his conscience but holding his heart tied to hers by an invisible string, red like blood.

Samara ran a finger over the necklace he'd given her that now lay undisturbed by her touch on the table. She'd let him fasten it around her neck despite their marriage having started out as a noose over her life pulling her in a bigger gilded cage. She'd worn it through dinner in the garden where their privacy hadn't been breached with all the preparations in place before asking him to take it off to save it for a grand reveal during an official event.

She'd coined a little tradition for herself soon after the wedding–though, it had taken him a lot longer to notice–of wearing her favorite jewelry for her least favorite public appearances to strike a balance that wouldn't shake her in front of prying eyes. Only him she'd initiated to her secret by not finding the need to conceal the relief the jewelry locked around her. As if the different pieces were all protective charms that warded off intrusions upon her thoughts.

If she was reaching for his presence coating the necklace, then he hadn't grounded her in the trust between them she needed to bare her mind. "Do you know what my first impression of you was?" he asked because she didn't want pretty words–that was what all the jewelry was for–only real ones. And because it was one of the few things he hadn't trusted himself to confess yet.

He'd told her how tongue-tied his fear of her reading him like an open book had rendered him or how his mindfulness of her charm had filtered out the beauty from the appearance of any other woman. He'd told her about the distraction his admiration for her political knowledge and strategizing had brought him. He'd even told her about the attentiveness–almost frantically intense–she'd lured out to crush his arrogance with on their wedding night.

He'd never told her about that night, though. Their first meeting over dinner at her family's estate. That could stand to change after the recent development of their relationship.

"I thought that you would make me stop drinking."

Her eyebrows furrowed–far from subtly–as if to hold the confusion from collapsing on her. "How come?" She trusted him enough now not only to let it show, but to let him lift it off her shoulders too.

"I thought that if you poisoned me through the wine, no one would be the wiser." The crumbling of his facade sent her freezing like a statue waiting for the smallest of movements to doom her to the same. "Your mother would have found a way to keep the throne even in the event of my death." The monarchy had needed just so much to topple over but someone with her mother's cunning would have used the impact to push his lineage off the seat of power and cement herself there, and her family.

Samara's hand fell heavily on top of the nacre drop plated in massive gold he'd picked for her as if trying to crush it. All she accomplished was having it digging in the soft flesh of her palm which may as well have been the intention. Her planned movements were estimated to precision and the ones that didn't fit that criteria were shaped by his presence in reflection of his own actions.

"I thought you'd be the end of me," the words spilled with ease luring from her tears or blood to join them but the trust she'd placed in him held them back for the price of being given away. "I couldn't have been more wrong." It echoed back at her through the empty chamber to fill it.

She turned to him to allow him to approach her now that he wouldn't be sneaking up on her. She didn't say anything but her eyes followed him as he poured a glass of wine from the open bottle–he hadn't drank it but had prepared for the inevitability of giving into the temptation–on the table. She had gifted it to him – made from a rare sort of grapes cultivated with the warmth of dragon fire in the colder climate of the north for a perfect balance of the acidity and freshness of the flavor – his favorite. She'd gotten every detail right even if she hardly ever joined him for a drink.

"To beginnings," he raised the glass just above the level of her lips. He could climb on the roof of the palace to take it higher than anything else in the kingdom but her eyes were locked with his and he couldn't risk pulling them out with a symbolic act he couldn't follow through. "To the start of our life together, another year of marriage and being parents."

It was all beginnings with her and building their own fate. They'd given each other the chance to raise a son together and bring new life to their world. All thanks to her freeing them both from the distrust that would've been planted between them like a hedge of thorns to separate them if she hadn't taken his proposition of unity. She had been right – they'd signed away their separate existence. He could do so much as commit to her outside the reach of the crown.

"To you." He lifted the glass to his lips to drink, his eyes never closing as they maintained the contact with her to render all else null and void. It wasn't about the wine or the celebration. He hadn't even caught the flavor of the liquid washing down his throat and the crown–both of them–could have started banging on the inside of the safe in a desperate attempt at drawing his loyalty that he wouldn't have cared for.

It was all about her. About them. About the trust he gave her willingly and not through necessity.

Samara slipped the glass from his fingers before he'd even drawn in a breath to take a sip from it. A long gulp of wine that almost drained the whole glass to have her eyelids closing. A risk she never took to avoid the look of glazed over eyes and the lack of control over slurred speech. Alcohol dulled all her weapons against the world but she took part in the toast he made for them.

"To you," she looked at him to distinguish the anniversary from their wedding night that had been a shaky start to a foundation they built upon each year to find themselves on new territory. Territory he could guide them through if he listened to her directions.

"To us."

Her mouth found his to leave no need for a shift between them to accommodate their new stance. They'd drunk the same wine and eaten the same food, even had the red of heat burning in their cheeks and creeping up their necks as witnessed by the mirror. They were one whole even though their union hadn't been forged by blood.

It was forged in trust redder than the ruby on her finger, redder than the wine on their breaths, redder than all the hurt he'd lived through. It almost resembled the color of her lipstick she smeared over his lips as she kissed him, except it was redder than that too. It was deeper and not necessarily darker even as it came from the very bottom of their hearts where it had been pushed by the weight on their heads.

[scoundrels-in-love]

For the softer world meme, Jaime/Brienne, #23

When I received this, I was very giddy because it’s the first prompt you’ve sent me, but also very amused because it’s one of my favorite prompts on the list AND it’d have been perfect tile for something else I started writing recently.

So, I guess May is the month I write late campfire conversations from Jaime’s POV and yearning?

Also, tied in with Tomorrow (with you) I’d like to lose myself in the fleeting moment aka the one where Jaime is Brienne’s swornsword and they travel to Tarth. This is the trip itself. Also on AO3.

We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

The journey to Tarth was long.

The longest Jaime had had with (or for) her and his favorite, too.

They rode at even pace, though for the first week Brienne was uneasy and more jittery than he could recall ever seeing her, visibly pondering if she should just turn around and return to Sansa's side. He had distracted her, with jokes and stories of his past that danced just so around things he didn't wish to speak of.

A few times Jaime had slipped, but she had neither pushed him deeper with questions nor pitied him and again he marvelled at the way she permitted him to draw borders. There was little privacy and secret pain among Lannisters, only weaknesses to be discovered. And discovered they always were.

He enjoyed these conversations, how she'd share parts of her own childhood, the softness that'd paint her face much like the light filtering through the trees when she spoke of Evenfall Hall and it filled him with longing to see it, almost greed to touch stones that were in likeness of ones that had built the sturdy fortress of honor and goodness within Brienne.

Jaime loved the silence, too, the sort that dripped in-between crackles of fire as Jaime settled in for the first watch of night and Brienne lingered still. They'd talk at first, their gazes set to the stars above and he'd learn her favorite constellations and myths, the way her voice dipped when she grew sleepy, before their words and thoughts wandered away, welcoming the quiet like horizon would a gentle sunset.

They were the only two people in the world, he would think then and mock himself for stumbling in familiar sentences, as if neither he nor the woman beside him were not different. But whereas with Cersei it had dripped with rage and hurt, Jaime could almost taste peace within the syllables now.

They were not outcast by their own hand as much as their duties, and there was warmth following them all the way from Winterfell, stitched in the cloaks Sansa had gifted them before departure, there was warmth here, between them as her head rested against his shoulder, and warmth that awaited them (her, surely) at end of their journey.

In this space untethered to time or even land, he dreamed. Dreamed of pressing a reverent kiss to her brow, of smoothing his thumb over her knuckles and not letting go.

Of basking in Brienne's smiles and knowing he had the rest of his lifetime to have his darkness bleached away by them, just enough to not mar her by his presence.

Of a journey where she didn't flush almost scarlet, her gaze swaying away from his clumsy and unhappy, when the innkeeper mistook them for married.

But in reality, he could only touch her for a shorter moment than a breeze, watch her stumble over requesting separate rooms and hope Lord Selwyn Tarth will be as all-encompassing blind to his sins as his daughter, though that was disservice to Brienne - she saw his faults perhaps more clearly than most. Was familiar with them in ways he wished she wasn't.

And yet, she had seen something that outweighed it all and as she tried to twist the mirror so he'd see it, too, he had watched her reflection and realized that even if it was mere fiction created by her generosity and faith in goodness, he would like to make himself a few shades more to its likeness.

It hadn't been her request, not really. Brienne had never asked anything of him for a long time now, not since the Dragonpit, not even when he wished she would.

("I am yours to command - am I to stay or to go with them?" he had asked, the night before armies departed for King's Landing. Tell me you want me here. Tell me that...

"I will do no such thing," she had said, firm and almost offended, almost sad.

"You could. Should. I am your swornsword now, my liege." He was desperate for an answer, any single one. Like a lifeline in the murkiness that was overtaking his limbs, driving him onward without even remembering what a road looked like.

"You always have the right to choices, Ser Jaime," Brienne had reminded him before ducking her head and looking away to where Sansa and Arya were. Later, he'd wonder if there were words in her mouth she had cast away with this move, but in that moment he could only think of her angry snarl a lifetime ago melting away, an odd understanding in her eyes. We don't choose who we love.

He understood then, too.

He hadn't chosen to love her and had been born love-bound to Cersei that had spun out of control, but he had made choices for these loves again and again, long before either had names, and if his blood was to nurture one, he would pick the field of blue rather than the dried tree that would impale him upon its bare branches. He had tried to nurture it, but the roots were long since rotten.

The next morning, when she had smiled a trembling, relieved smile, Jaime loved her more for not asking and yet, he wondered if he'd ever stop thinking that demands meant he was wanted.)

He would think of all this and more and though his body would ache for a soft bed come morning, he preferred these nights on the road where he could dream in rhythm with her breathing, full of trust.

Sometimes, he rested his cheek against the crown of her head before he'd remember the way the ease would collapse in on itself from mere change in wind and she'd shrink back away from him like his touch or smile held the sound of a drawn sword, and he straightened up feeling as if he was stealing. It was not as if he was starved for her attention or even affection and yet, he craved and took more without her permissions. A man with honor, she had called him and yet he could not truly be one even for the one person who deserved it most.

The movement sometimes startled her awake , making Brienne murmur an apology and return to her tent, leaving him bereft and cold in a way that was entirely his doing. (All that self-acclaimed change and yet, it is the same.)

But none of that could tarnish the brightness in him that gathered drop by drop, day by day as they traveled on. Sometimes, Jaime thought it was visible somehow, a glow beneath his skin that caught Brienne's eyes the closer they came to Tarth. He would catch her looking, attentive and inquiring almost, as if she couldn't quite figure something out and he wished she would tell him the question because there was no answer he'd deny her, if only he had it.

Maybe when she was home, she'd find the words.

[darkwingsnark]

FIC WRITER MEME

Tagged by @prince-luffy

AO3 name: DarkwingSnark

Fandoms: ...SEE, I’m in lots of fandoms. Or at least, I’ve written for them during hyper-fixation periods. Let’s see what AO3 says...

Batman: The Animated Series (20)

Batman - All Media Types (7)

Wander Over Yonder (Cartoon) (6)

DuckTales (Cartoon 1987) (5)

Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero (5)

Penguins of Madagascar (3)

James and the Giant Peach - Roald Dahl (3)

Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991) (3)

Disney - All Media Types (3)

Dan Vs. (2)

Milo Murphy's Law (2)

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja (1)

The Batman (Cartoon) (1)

Lady and the Tramp (1955) (1)

Looney Tunes | Merrie Melodies (1)

Winnie-the-Pooh - All Media Types (1)

Alice in Wonderland (1951) (1)

Gummi Bears (TV) (1)

Winnie-the-Pooh (Disney) (1)

.... Honestly, I feel like there’s more that this list isn’t covering. Like Phineas and Ferb isn’t here and I wrote for that show too. And many of these can be simplified and condensed because they belong to similar fics.

Tropes: Depends on the fic. But as a whole, tend to write Romantic Comedies with a lot of slow burn. Mostly because... struggle is funny. People being dumdums and oblivious to the obvious is funny. Aaaaand also because it allows the episodic quality of shenanigans to occur.

Number of fics: Up and posted on AO3? 53. Does not include stuff on FF.net or that’s sitting in google docs begging to be finished.

Fic I spent the most time on: Not sure how to read this. Does it mean active man hours? Or does stuff like having a hiatus in-between count? Because TECHNICALLY ‘Real Value’ was started in high school, and I didn’t rewrite it and carry on the series (with Moonie) until many years later. There are also fics like ‘Growing Love’ or ‘Priorities’ that took a lot of time to do research. Like learning how to build a lawn mower so I could have a character believably break it apart for repairs.

....God I do a lot of research that doesn’t go into the actual fics. Because all I need, really, in the confidence of what I’m doing to be the character and describe an action here or there. 

Fic I spent the least time on: Probably something drabble related? Or maybe the fic I did that was just me venting out emotions because I was feeling guilty? ‘A Mother’s Intuition’ was written and posted within a couple of hours.

Longest fic: Complicated. The longest thing written is technically an RP, NOT a story. (Different, trust me.) ‘What Happens in Gotham’ has a word count of  207,413. But fic wise at 89,022 word would be ‘The Constant Gardener’ . 

Runner up being ‘Priorities’ at little over 87k.

Shortest fic: Drabbles? Uh, let’s see.. Probably from ‘Beauty and Your Worth’, as i think one was literally a paragraph long. ... Speaking of Gummi Bears, I wonder if I still have my notes on the GruffiGusto fic I wanted to write. Something to look into.

Most hits: Apparently ‘Fallen Hard’ at  5354

Most kudos: Also ‘Fallen Hard’ at 518. There... were more fans of Milo Murphy’s Law than I realised. 

Most comment threads: ‘Fallen Hard’, 193 comments. ‘What Happens in Gotham’ following at 185.

Most bookmarks: .... that’s something people care about? I hardly ever bookmark things, since I read it in one go. But... I can look?

Ah.... ‘Fallen Hard’. 63

Total word count: 971,833 Oh hey! Almost a million. That’s something to celebrate.

Favorite fic I wrote: 'Knights of Dobenshire’. Hands down. (With ‘Heart of the Cards’ being very close.) I like writing road trip styled stories. It allows many things to happen within the narrative. BUT, ‘Knights of Dobenshire’ wins because it was such a satisfying conclusion of this build up, you know? Scrooge is finally no longer just putting up with the relationship with Fenton, but fully embracing it. That surprise feeling that hits him when he realizes, dear lord, he IS attracted to Fenton beyond affection. 

It hits me more than a mutual pining because there I KNOW they will get together. But here? While writing with Moonie? I DIDN’T KNOW! I was worried in the end we’d have to write another fic to finally reach that step. Scrooge is stubborn and does what he wants, let me tell ya.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: 'Fallen Hard’, ‘Season of Miracles’, ‘Going with the Flow’, pretty much anything that isn’t complete. BUT, not posted, I really want to get back to more of the stories planned in the McCrack series. It was a ship I kinda made from the ground up, with nobody caring about it in the beginning. So it feels very important to see that series through.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

... Actually, I can share something from 'Donald’s Party (Working Title)’. @swampy-tiefling and I started. Just the first scene to get you guys hooked.

Donald took a deep breath of air from the doorway of the house and sighed, once again pleased to find himself at his home away from home. Traveling the seas and exploring the world with the navy were its own rewards, he supposed, but there would never be anything quite like the countryside-- the middle aged mallard having practically been raised on Grandma Duck’s farm. Donald Duck was happy to be on shore-- his naval carrier being docked for the week in Duckburg as they replenished supplies and took care of whatever repairs that were needed. Whatever excuse his bosses wanted to use were fine by him, he was just happy to not be scrubbing decks for a change!

That didn’t, however, mean he was able to rest and relax-- as the duck was startled out of his thoughts as somebody bumped into him. That somebody was his grandmother as she came to, just having caught her plate of cookies before they fell.

“My land, Donald! What in the world are you doing hiding here when you should be meetin’ and greetin’ the guests?”

Donald ignored the woman’s soft glare as he waved her off, using his other hand to steal a cookie in the process. Stuffing it in his mouth, he murmured out a response.

“Phooey, they’re just relatives.”

“Even more of a reason to go out and talk to them.” Before the sailor could argue, Grandma Duck placed the plate of treats into his hands. “And put these out on the snack table while you’re at it. Poor Fethry is looking peckish.”

Donald rolled his eyes, but otherwise did as he was told. Wasn’t it just like life to make him work at his own welcome home party? Walking towards the open yard where the party was taking place, it didn’t take long to reach the table, where his cousins were already gathered around as they chat.

This instantly caught the attention of the lankier duck, his gaze zoning in as he smiled widely towards Donald in greeting.

“Well if it ain’t the guest of honor, with snacks to boot!” Fethry leaned closer, his red hat wobbling with him as he continued to inquire. “Say, cuz, ya wouldn’t happen to know if these are gluten free, would ya?”

Donald gave him an unimpressed look. 

“You’re not going on another crazy diet, are ya?” Though, in all honesty, he was more worried his looney cousin might try to drag him along-- and after months of eating nothing but mush, he would NOT miss out on his first chance to pig out on actual home cooked meals.

"Not crazy at all, actually!" Fethry grinned that goofy grin. "See, it's all right here; Gluten Free; It's the Way to Be' !" he shoved a rather lengthy-looking hard cover book in Donald's face. Donald had no choice but to stare at it, the words all blurring together from its close proximity to his eyes. The offending object remained there for only a second, however, before it was yanked back, the nutty mallard already busy flipping through it.

"Let's see, here, there's a fascinating chapter I think you should-- Don?"

Phew, that had been close. Donald was still in sneaking away mode, and jumped and yelped when he was tapped on the shoulder. Oh no. He'd been caught, after all. He slowly turned, with a forced, toothy grin, to face his fate.

A wave of relief washed over him when he saw his girlfriend, Daisy, smiling sweetly at him, instead.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to, Mister? You’ve been gone for so long, and here we are, with you haven’t even given me a kiss ‘hello’ yet.” 

Now there was something Donald didn’t mind doing, as his girlfriend leaned in her face for her reward. Wrapping his arms around her, he planted the biggest of smooches to her temple. 

“Gaww, I’m sorry Daisy. I really did miss you.”

This earned him a soft smile, as it was Daisy’s turn to kiss him on the forehead.

“And I missed you, hun. Now, tell me… why WERE you sneaking around?”

“Grandma put me on entertainment duty.”

“Well, “ his girlfriend began, “it IS your party, after all. They came to see you, seems fair to me.” This made the sailor groan as she looked at him unsympathetically. Rolling her eyes, the reporter sarcastically patted her boyfriend in comfort. “There there. Now don’t go sneaking off for real, the boys will be arriving soon. And Grandma tells me Uncle Scrooge will be bringing along a special guest.”

“Special guest?” Donald asked incredulously. “Like who?” This caused Daisy’s eyes to glimmer all the more in mischief, a look that told him that she knew something he didn’t know. And that something was big news, if he was reading her right.

“Oh, nobody TOO special, I suppose,” Daisy was stalling, and it was driving Donald up the wall. The duck woman continued her teasing. “Nobody except your uncle’s new date friend.”

"Date friend?" Donald practically exclaimed, prompting Daisy's grin to grow all the more smug.

"Yep! You've missed quite a bit since you've been away, you know."

"No kidding...well I'll be..." Donald was shaking his head, but he was smiling. Uncle Scrooge, dating, at his age... it was nothing short of a miracle. It was about time, too!

"Meanwhile, why don't you go say hi to the rest of the guests? I know it's hard..." she rolled her eyes. "but at least make an effort, okay? Thanks, hun!"

Donald's heart fluttered as she smooched his cheek, and left. He glanced out over the yard, and saw quite a few familiar faces; Gus, Ludwig, Gladstone... heck, even Gyro Gearloose had shown up!

He sighed, but this one wasn't a sigh of pure despair. It did feel nice to be home, surrounded by people who most likely cared, and his nephews were even going to show up soon. Not to mention, he'd get to tease his uncle for finally taking his advice on the whole dating thing. 

That alone gave Donald the pep in his step he needed as he threw himself back into the party-- where he knew his crazed family would be waiting for him. 

[viciousgracearc]

JAIME  ( @ourfuryroars​ )  TOLD LYANNA :  ❝you can’t outrun destiny just because you’re terrified of it.❞

PROMPTS & MEMES

         “DESTINY?” LYANNA ECHOED, WHEELING AROUND TO FACE JAIME. “That’s what you’re calling it? Destiny?” She scoffed and looked away, nursing an indignant anger that burned slowly. The she-wolf didn’t know who she was more vexed with — him, or herself. Both of them made a mess of things, complicated what should have been a simple arrangement, piled up on the sins already attributed to their names. Things need not have been more convoluted than it already was, and yet this — this attraction that they both obviously felt towards each other... it threatened whatever fragile peace they both had been able to achieve after the shame and the horrors of their respective pasts.

         And yet how could she escape it? How could they both? Perhaps in the capital, it would be easier, but here in Winterfell, they were thrust together. He shadowed her and her son, which was the duty delegated to him by his King. Lyanna would not dishonor Jaime by asking him to abandon his responsibility, nor would she cast him aside in a place that distrusted him so, where only her certitude in his honor inspired the meager confidence her brother and his family bestowed upon him. No. For as long as they remained in the North, Jaime Lannister was as much as her responsibility as she and Jon was his, but there was a line they were in danger of crossing. If they went beyond it, there was no turning back.

         “I believed in destiny once and it didn’t end well for me, or the people I loved,” the she-wolf went on, turning her Stark-grey eyes back on him. Rhaegar told her they would be saving the world from a great and ancient evil, the Ghost of High Heart promised her the same, and yet it ended in tragedy, and no one was saved. “I don’t want to run away from my destiny, ser Jaime.” The smile she graced him with was bitter. Using his title felt like a necessary thing now, like a proper boundary that needed to be set. And yet her hands ached to reach out to him, to cup his face and smooth away the locks of golden hair that fell on his brow and shadowed his eyes. Lyanna did no such thing, however. Her hands laid primly beside her, stubborn and unmoving. “Can you truly blame me,” she whispered, “if I was terrified?”

[ambidextrousarcher]

Since you asked for prompts here are some more: For the Symbols meme; ★Aemon ☮Elia ✖Jodhaa ☹Jalal, and for the Four Cardinal Virtues Meme; Jaime in the category Justice. Thanks in advance!

Thanks for the asks, @thetrailofyourbloodinthesnow! I hope you enjoy them.

Symbols meme

1. Aemon for who inspires himWithout a doubt, it is Naerys who inspires Aemon from the dawn of their lives. Naerys and her quiet persistence, Naerys who had to fight from the beginning for life itself. Naerys gives Aemon strength when everything seems to be falling apart after Lady Larra Rogare left. (He will not think of her as “Mother”, never.) The desire to protect Naerys, her honor and her sense of self, runs strong in Aemon throughout his life, even making him, paradoxically, protect Aegon of all people (Men were already slandering Naerys’s honor, and Aemon let the King die, the tongues would wag. Aemon would normally care naught for that, but it would hurt Ryssie. Ryssie and Daeron, the boy who is the hope of the future.) For both their sakes, Aemon would do anything, no matter how distasteful.And so he finds himself struggling for breath having protected their letch of a King. His last thought is of his sister and her son.

2. Elia for how she keeps calm.Whenever Aerys Targaryen drones on about Elia’s inferiority, trying to get a raise out of her, Elia thinks of Dorne. Of the breezes scented with blood oranges, of the sun shining on the dome of the Old Palace.In Dorne, Elia was a Princess in truth, to her eternal pride. She would not forget that. She remains a Martell, and to respond to vile words is to break. Elia will not do that. She will remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken.When innocent men burn, Elia remembers her ladies, who can pay for any mistake she does. She is responsible for them, and she will carry out her duties unflinchingly, for their sakes, she thinks.Unbowed, unbent, unbroken, chants Elia, as she forces herself to remain calm.

3. Jodhaa for a trait she despises in people.Jodhaa hates shifty behavior. A person whose opinions change, sometimes with the wind, sometimes swifter than the wind itself is no person at all. And yet, as Rajkumari, and then Malika-e-Hindustan, Jodhaa has to deal with more turncloaks than most. Jodhaa keeps her disdain tightly veiled. But it is there nonetheless.

4. Jalal for a thought that makes him sad.Badi Ammi and Adham, without fail. Thoughts of Badi Ammi’s protection when Jalal was a child, of Adham being the brother he never had, thoughts of innocent child’s play, long before everything soured with the advent of adulthood and authority. Banu, too. Quiet, silent Banu, who used to hold Jalal close when he cried for parents that were not there. Banu who was sold off to Shariffuddin by Bairam Khan Baba, long before Jalal could counter him. And how can Khan Baba himself not make Jalal sad? His solid presence by Jalal’s side, his resolute wafaadari.Yes, Jalal always felt sad when he thinks of those he lost, but he holds them close to his heart regardless.

5. Jaime for Four Cardinal Virtues memeSince you asked for Justice, buddy, and since I love Jaime to bits, I’m doing all the virtues. Enjoy!

Prudencefools rush in | a stitch in time | hard times for dreamers | tact ( or lack thereof) | silence is the most powerful scream | foresight/telepathy/psychic AU“He is mine now, not Tywin’s” hisses the King, and Jaime Lannister, the youngest of the Kingsguard, looks up at His Grace in mute obedience, the stars in his eyes dying already. He steps into the Queen’s chambers with a bow. Looking at that familiar face, Rhaella almost blurts out an old friend’s name. She looks at the boy, a smile on his face as he plays with an excited Rhaenys, and sees Joanna. Joanna who’d dreamt that her love for her husband kept her safe. Joanna who had smiled, and smiled, and hid behind her smiles as her dreams shattered.When King Aerys burns an innocent man, Jaime steps forward, for what he does not know. Ser Barristan stops him. Jaime knows then that the vows of knighthood, the dreams of chivalry were all false.Jaime realizes that truth even more as he listens to the Queen pleading, unable to go away inside, and he rues that he had ever believed in the lie, the dream.

Temperancea secret indulgence | in vino veritas | hold the reins | the mark of a child | a virtue in those who can afford it | crossover*“Burn them all!” The Mad King repeats the same words over and over, and Jaime stands, stock still. He can hear Ser Darry’s voice in his head, saying “We have to obey the King. For it is honor that binds us to do so.” But, Jaime thinks, what of the people of King’s Landing? Half a million people? He cannot doom them for the sake of his own honor, that would be against the vows of knighthood he swore.Jaime took a deep breath as he unsheathed his sword. He could not afford honor now. He had to do what he must.

Courageno sin greater than inaction | mastery of fear, not absence of fear | dulce et decorum est | faint heart never won fair lady | the last laugh laughs best | fairy tale/myth AUJaime’s heart thudded in his chest. He held his sword in sweaty hands, shaky yet firm. As the Smiling Knight swayed, nearly taking Ser Arthur’s head off, Jaime threw himself across.Ser Arthur smiled gratefully at him, as he rolled away. Jaime’s heart thudded still, making a mockery of his actions. Yet still he preserved, for he was to be a knight one day.Ser Arthur’s sword slit Jaime’s tunic, and fear rose anew in him. Fear that he may not be able to fulfill the vows. Jaime dismissed these fears.He was Jaime Lannister, firstborn son of the Lady Joanna and Lord Tywin.Jaime’s voice rings clear as he says “I do so swear!”. 

He rises a knight.

Justicewhat’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander | laws are spider webs | judge jury and executioner | each man makes his own prison | two sides to every story | noir/detective AULord Eddard Stark had no right to look at him so, Jaime thought. Had Lord Stark himself not broken his oaths of fealty to Aerys? Had Ser Barristan not done the same?Why was Jaime the one who was judged and found guilty? Why?He never found the answer to that question.

[lafiametta]

9, 10, 14, and 15 for fanfic ask meme

Thanks for the asks! And Happy New Year!

9. longest wip of the year

So technically, I think that honor belongs to “Read Me Like An Open Book”, which currently stands at 12K+, but with the (incomplete) next chapter I’m still (sigh) working on, it’s probably at 14K. Poor Henry and John! I will get back to you two and your adorable domesticity at some point, I promise!

10. shortest wip of the year

I have about 200 words written of this Jopson/Little modern AU thing I’m planning to post tomorrow (it’s for Day 8 of the 12 Days of Carnivale), but as it’ll cease to be a WIP relatively soon, the next contender is an in-canon Goodsir-centered one-shot, which is an attempt to solve the mystery of Harry’s line from the end of Episode 5 when he mentions Jacko’s little painted bowl. Currently standing at 1K, it’s been in my drafts folder for ages, mostly because I find writing Harry’s internal monologue to be tricky (and – let’s be honest – I got distracted by other things). 

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

“Parhelion” was certainly unexpected. Here I was, thinking solely to entertain myself for an evening (and procrastinate on writing my Terror Exchange fic) and certainly not expecting many people to want to read silly five-sentence mini-fics, but the thing is at 34 entries at this point, and certainly could go higher if I keep getting prompts! 

15. something you learned this year

That a commander in the British navy is of a lower rank than a captain, which just sounded strange to me when I learned it (c’mon, you’re a commander… you command things, I mean, really). But, goodness, I did learn an awful lot about the Franklin Expedition, the layouts of British naval vessels, the uniforms, the officers’ duties, the indescribable process of preserving foodstuffs in tins…

[send me a fanfic end of year ask]

[sleepytenny]

TFW you get punished for choosing mercy. This is an entry for an RP Event for World of Babylon. It was a serious prompt. But my brain didn't want to cooperate and I spat out a meme instead. *Wheeze*

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Nyx Stern & Artwork ©@sleepytenny World of Babylon ©TRlSTAN Meme Template Source

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Want me to draw for you? My commissions are open!

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Prompt:

The man on the stage stood quietly for a moment as he waited for everyone to calm down, once there was silence he once again clapped his hands for a small magic circle to appear next to him.

Slowly the form of a man bound in glowing silver chains appeared, kneeling on the ground with a gag in his mouth and a blindfold covering his eyes.

"Dear chosen." the man in the suit grinned as he leaned closer towards the bound individual.

"We've gathered you all here today for a trial, as you may know, the chosen are not bound to the laws of Babylon due to their unique constitution towards death, or lack thereof. Hence you, as chosen are given the privilege of judging your fellow man."

With a flick of his finger, a small hologram of text appeared on stage

"His crimes, Murder of five civilians. Namely the family of a baker on the outskirts of Gaia. Their bodies were too mangled to heal, the priests came too late and all five died due to their injuries."

Another flick of a finger changed the text on the stage

"Under the laws of Gaia he has been found guilty, hence it is now your duty as fellow chosen to decide his fate. He will either be pardoned for his crimes and simply be banned from the nation of Gaia... or be executed multiple times until his memories are completely wiped- a sort of clean start if you will."

All the while, the man bound on stage tried but failed to flail around, the magical chains on his body keeping him still

"The voting begins now!"

With a clap, a small hologram appeared in front of every chosen in the building, a simple button saying Pardon or Execute on the screen.

The Representative's grin grew as the vote ended, his eyes glancing over the new arrivals

"We have quite a few honorable newcomers it seems" hed let out a practiced and robotic laugh as he clapped.

Suddenly a small bracelet of light appeared on the wrists of all the new Chosen, a small timer counting down on the bracelet.

"According to tradition, the criminal will be pardoned... and all those that voted for the pardon will share a punishment."

hed clap his hands as an image of the five family members showed up on stage, two small boys and one girl along with a father and a mother.

As the chosen stared at the images on the stage a vivid vision invaded their minds, it was as if they could see through five pairs of eyes at the same time. The immense tax it took on an unexpecting mind could cause headaches, in extreme cases knocking the chosen out from the nauseus effect it caused.

It didn't stop there, the visions continued as all five views slowly changed, it followed the lives of the five family members seconds before they were murdered by the criminal on stage, each stab and punch, every second of strangulation could be felt by the chosen. All five sensations stacking upon each other to cause immense pain.

[The chosen that voted for pardon are the only ones affected by the visions]

ART / WRITING PROMPT Show how your character reacts to the voting and the decision. If affected by the visions, show that as well through art and or writing!

All submissions under this prompt are considered Event submissions are are pointed accordingly!

The once bound prisoner stood up as the magical chains dissipated, the gag and blind fold also being removed as he was freed from his bondage. With a wide grin he cackled on stage

"I knew you kids wouldn't fail me HAHAHA Oh Gods that was scary!" hed stretch his hands to the side , taking a sharp inhale as if it was his first breath of fresh air in a long time

"Now get me out of here you NPC!" hed shout at the man in the suit who politely obliged as he teleported the criminal away, the mans slanted eyes never leaving the crowd of new Chosen to watch their reactions

[maroucia]

SanSan Russian Roulette | Summer 2021

Here they are! The results!😄 But first, here’s a reminder of the game’s rules: 

-Your prompt fill should be at least 500 words (one-shot or multi-chapter fic). You can post to the platform of your choice (AO3, FF.net, Tumblr, Twitter, etc.).

-Please tag "SanSan Russian Roulette 2021" on AO3, Tumblr, or Twitter so we can track all the wonderful fics!

-Post by 31 July—For multi-chapter fics, you’ll only need to have posted the first chapter by 31 July. You can post sooner than this. If real life crops up and your fill will be delayed, just post as soon as you can. If you’re unable to fill your prompt, please reach out to maroucia or sansanwritersguild on tumblr or @Mod or @...Maroucia… on Discord.

Now here are the prompts:

1.     To Fleurdeplume: “Dusk. Secret meetings. Stolen kiss. Sansa looks like a little bird but deep down, she's a wolf.” (From Lysae).

2.     To TheImmaculateBastard: “Inspired by a tweet, "I don't know what just happened, but I was at an animal shelter before work and a toddler walked in, pointed to me, and said “I want that one”. His mother looked at me and said “you can’t have that, that’s a grown man”” (From Lorel).

3.     To Jadedelcinismo: “Sansa is in love with Sandor and is jealous of someone in his life. Canon/AU, your choice.” (From Missy-1978).

4.     To Vermilion_Sunrise: “Sandor tucks Sansa in bed after her first day as Queen in the North.” (From Prettybadmagic).

5.     To Meganfence: “Fight, argument or other disagreement. Open to interpretation, minor or major.” (From Redbirdblackdog).

6.     To Sharkaria: “Sandor discovers he's got a good eye for photography. He fills his time taking pictures of his urban landscape, until he spies a Little Bird Muse...” (From Glamgrowl).

7.     To Missy-1978: “Kinda stole this from the Discord, but I love a forced marriage trope! Maybe Sansa got left at the altar and Sandor steps in last minute. Or a role reversal where she has to marry him to save his honor. Something fun and unexpected, can be modern or set in GOT world.” (From Atomic-bomb-shell).

8.     To TailBobSquid: “Jumanji AU - either a game that they are playing comes to life or they get sucked into a game that they are playing.” (From ReadyReaderOne).

9.     To Prettybadmagic: “Sandor is going to do it. He's going to do the kiss your best friend challenge. The friend he just happens to have been in love with since day one.” (From Islandida).

10.  To Glamgrowl: “Feel good and funny modern au where all Starks are alive and well. Sansa makes the first move on Sandor even though she's not sure she's his type as he is much older and works a blue collar job. (Please no Joffrey bashing) Cameos from other Starks would be awesome but not necessary.” (From Rayne).

11.  To Glitterswitch: “Bakery/coffee shop AU Stranger is Sandor’s service animal.” (From OrangeTabby).

12.  To LittleWolfBird: “Sandor joins the Stark family traveling circus when he sees a casting call for "freaks." Bonus points for Sansa on trapeze or tightrope.” (From GlitterGoth114).

13.  To Diverse.lorde: “Sansa playing her high harp (or other instrument) and singing a song that she wrote about/for Sandor.” (From Neleam).

14.  To Lysae : “Sandor finds out Sansa made him TikTok famous after a video of him goes viral: Sansa: hey can I have x/can we go to y? Sandor: no. Sansa, in a sweet voice: pretty please? Sandor, huffing: fine (Daddy on the end of pretty please would be lovely, but if Daddy Sandor isn’t your thing, no problem).” (From TailBobSquid).

15.  To OrangeTabby: “Mafia AU, fancy party. Dominant Sandor, thirsty Sansa Sandor in a suit, hand tattoos, creeping neck tattoo, whiskey - Sansa thirsting.” (From Meganfence).

16.  To Neleam: “Sanson Stark has always been the dutiful yet idealist second son of House Stark. Sandra Clegane is a Silent sister who has been disappointed by the very songs she once admired. A knight of the Seven and a handmaiden of the Stranger unexpectedly find comfort in each other.” (From Jadedelcinismo).

17.  To Redbirdblackdog: “Sansa gets her first tattoo by none other than the famous tattoo artist "The Hound". When she's in pain, she exhales slowly and Sandor says, "Good girl". Sexual tension ensues. (This prompt was inspired by a meme.)” (From Thequeen--in--thenorth).

18.  To Thequeen--in--thenorth: “Following a tumultuous few years, Sansa has spent every penny she's ever earned on a quiet cottage, surrounded by forest and wildlife. Not long after moving, a strange man appears in the pond near her home, half-alive and unable to remember anything about himself except his name: Sandor.” (From Suzi).

19.  To Atomic-bomb-shell: “Crust punk modern AU. Sandor is a crustie squatting in the backyard of an abandoned house. Sansa is a friendly neighbor who offers him a warm meal and access to her laundry room.” (From Diverse.lorde).

20.  To Lorel: “Sansa manages a gallery in King’s Landing. After storming out of a fight with her boyfriend, she drives off into the countryside. That’s when she sees the most amazing art behind some dusty glass in a car repair shop. Now all she has to do is convince the artist, Sandor, to do a show at her gallery.” (From Vermilion_Sunrise).

21.  To GlitterGoth114: “Walked in on. Caught in the act. "Can opened, worms everywhere." (From TheImmaculateBastard).

22.  To Islandida: “Robb comes home from war with a big loyal man behind him. Sansa never thought she'd see her brother again let alone *him*. Modern au or canon.’’  (From LittleWolfBird).

23.  To Rayne: “Modern AU: After finally getting out of an unhappy/controlling relationship with Joffrey that desecrated her self-worth, Sansa enrolls for self-defence classes with martial arts Master Clegane, who proceeds to build up her self esteem and fighting skills while the two fight their mutual attraction.” (From Fleurdeplume).

24.  To Suzi: “Prompt submission -- passionate time travel.” (From Sharkaria).

25.  To ReadyReaderOne: “Sansa leaves with the Hound that night. Their journey thru Westeros is loosely similar - Arya, Twins, etc. They find Elder Brother to help Sandor. After healing, all 3 head for Braavos, and the Dragon Queen. Lots of friendship/bonding b/t all 3; both defend Sandor from Dany. Devoted sansan, HEA!’’ (From Glitterswitch).