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evans23 · 26 days ago

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RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 1 - DECEMBER MOON [A1]

Pairing : Colonel Brandon x OC

Summary : During a night on December, Colonel Brandon meets a young woman who captivates him instantly. He then realises that what he had mistaken for love when he met Marianne had never truly been love.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Sadness, mention of depression and loneliness.

A/N : Hello dear 😁 I'm so excited to write for my first Rickmas hosted by the amazing @deepperplexity ! I stumbled upon Rickmas last year... after Christmas, but I was in a very bad phase at the time and all those amazing stories helped me so much and I also discoverd the incredible trilogy "Judge and Sentenced" from @deepperplexity that I advise you to read because it's probably the best Turpin's fiction I've ever read ! Anyway, I'm doing my Sinclair by rambling here, therefore, let's begin Rickmas !

QUIET WISHING : Part II

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Poor Colonel Brandon was returning from London, exhausted. He, who usually preferred to be perched on his stallion was comfortably installed in the shelter of his carriage. At 38, he had never felt so old and yet, he was still so young.

But a small voice, which strangely had the same intonations as a lady he knew, told him that he was just an old man full of rheumatism. It was not entirely false. He had an old soul since birth, fuelled by the mistreatment of a violent and unloving father and by a protective mother who died too early. As for the rheumatism, it was more a vestige of his life in the army, but also of an accident in India involving an elephant, which had almost cost him an arm and had left him with a painful shoulder, especially in rainy weather.

But beyond his 38 years that he carried like a burden, there was the memory of his sweet Eliza and te one of the mischievous Marianne. Two women who had broken his heart. The first without wanting to, the second on a whim.

Eliza, tender, intrepid and in love with him, this beauty with whom he had fallen in love while still very young and whom his father had taken away from him without scruples before sending him, at only sixteen, to join the ranks of his majesty's army.

Fortunately, in India he had met John Middleton who had been more than a friend, almost a surrogate father. Indeed, 20 years older than Brandon, he had immediately taken a liking to the young man and his situation, helping him to climb the ranks of the army thanks to his influence.

Later, when he returned to England, he met his mentor's mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings, an intrusive woman who had an unfortunate tendency to meddle in things that didn't concern her, but for whom he nevertheless had infinite tenderness. Her intrusive nature came from the pain of having lost his eldest daughter, John's wife, while she was expecting a child. A haemorrhage in the middle of the night, an incompetent doctor, and in the morning, the mother and child had gone to join the heavens. Mrs. Jennings reminded him of his own mother with the gentleness she showed him and if she was not known for her subtlety, she had always had the delicacy to never mention Eliza in front of him.

As for Marianne... This pretty devil who had reminded him of her deceased Eliza had hurt him much more than any whipping given by his father for an unimportant misdeed.

He had loved her at first sight, finding in her his first love and it had taken him time and a little too much of a difficult lesson to realize that she wasn't even the shadow of his Eliza. Eliza would never have shown the wickedness that Marianne had shown by letting him hope just after his infectious fever, graciously accepting his gifts and demanding his presence. No, Marianne, full of malice, had felt no remorse in making him suffer as she did with all those around her when she could no longer get anything from them.

She had let him believe that she was his just after this fever that had almost taken her, but when he had asked her to marry him, she had hesitated, giving him an ambiguous answer, a "maybe" more than a "yes". It was during a social event organised at Barton Park that he had understood that the young woman had set her sights on another man of barely 23 years old. A young and dashing high judge of London with a cold and severe look, but rich and powerful, much more than him, much more than anyone in Devonshire.

The next day, he had asked Marianne for an answer to his question and when she had still hesitated, he had told her that he knew and that he was freeing her. He didn't yet know that it was him that he was freeing.

Marianne was now married to this man that all of London nicknamed The Death's Judge, and if she was happily married or not, Brandon didn't know, all he knew was that she was expecting her first child while he was still alone, with no one to love. No loved one and no descendants.

Alone with his heavy thoughts and this feeling that he would end up alone, he who had so much affection to offer, so much love to give, if only a woman with enough spirit but also a certain reserve could make his heart beat again that he now thought would be cold forever, he would cherish her as no man could.

Two years had passed since the injury inflicted by Marianne and with time, his heart had calmed down, and his old governess, full of wisdom, had gently made him understand that what he had taken for love towards Marianne had in fact been only an illusion nourished by this vague resemblance of character that the young woman shared with Eliza.

It was then that the carriage stopped abruptly and Christopher had just enough time to put his hand in front of him so as not to crush his hooked nose against the empty seat in front of him.

"What's going on ?" he asked in his baritone voice as he got out of the carriage.

The icy wind immediately bit his cheeks as night fell gently, promising new frosts.

"A dog, Colonel Brandon, I wanted to avoid a dog," the coachman apologized.

Christopher saw it. A little further away. A dog with a red coat was curled up.

"Is it hurt ?" Christopher asked, genuinely worried.

"No, I avoided him," the coachman replied, "I think he got scared."

Christopher approached the animal cautiously. Medium-sized, the dog looked fierce, ready to bite, but Christopher was reassured to see no injuries.

"Are you lost, little boy ?" he asked the dog, hoping to calm him down.

As if to answer his question, a young woman's voice was heard behind the trees that lined the road.

"Henry ! Henry !" she shouted urgently.

That's when you appeared from behind the trees at the very moment the moon was hitting the night with its first rays. Christopher couldn't take his eyes off that angelic face, fine features that gave off great gentleness and eyes... eyes as deep green as the woods you had just left, green like when summer brought the trees back to life.

You stopped dead when you saw the carriage and your face went from surprise to terror.

"HENRY !" you shouted as you ran towards the dog.

Without even a glance at Christopher or his coachman who had just dismounted, you ran towards the dog who immediately stood up to run towards you.

"Henry, are you okay ?" you asked as if the dog could have answered you.

You examined him carefully, looking for an injury or a trace of blood.

"My coachman avoided it just in time," Christopher reassured you.

You stood up, turning towards Christopher who was slightly disconcerted by your gaze, deep, vibrant, eyes that reflected a thousand emotions at the same time... and who seemed to judge him.

"I promise you it was an accident, the dog rushed in front of the carriage," he felt obliged to justify himself.

You still said nothing, watching Christopher carefully. He did the same, although a little uncomfortable by the sudden silence of this young woman who had been so vocal when she had thought her dog was injured. He too looked at you. He had never seen you before, not that he knew everyone living in Dorsetshire, but he could at least boast of knowing everyone living around Delaford, most of them working for him.

"I am Colonel Christopher Brandon," he finally introduced himself with a bow.

"[Y/N], [Y/N] [Y/S]," you answered in a soft voice, bowing back.

You seemed a little shy, perhaps due to your youth. But the more Christopher looked at you, the more he doubted that you were as young as you looked. A certain seriousness in your gaze, like a deep-seated pain that only someone who has lived long enough to know the true pangs of life could have.

"I have never seen you here before," he said in spite of himself.

"My father was hired as a gardener by the Hawthorns, we arrived a month ago," you answered without trying to appear for what you was not.

Christopher knew this influential family from Devonshire well, John's neighbours. You were far from their home, more than four hours on foot, maybe five if the rain started to fall on the ground that was freezing at full speed.

"You are far from home," he pointed out.

The moonlight prevented him from hiding a slight blush on your cheeks.

"It's Henry, he ran away this morning and I wanted to find him before nightfall. I was afraid he would die of cold tonight," you explained, glancing at the said Henry.

The dog, totally unaware of the fright he had given his mistress, amused himself by teasing Christopher's coachman who was not at ease in front of the animal, much to the amusement of the Colonel.

"You came all this way for a dog?" he asked, surprised.

"Henry isn't just a dog ! He's a full-fledged member of the family," you replied briskly.

Christopher apologized quickly. He hadn't meant to offend you, he had been sincerely surprised. In his world, full of nobility, a woman wouldn't have ventured so far, so lightly covered, to find a runaway dog.

"Aren't you cold, miss ?" Christopher asked, seeing you suppress a shiver.

"I'm used to it," you replied, looking away.

That was all it took for him to understand. He had already understood your modest condition, but he assumed, probably rightly, that your family had probably couldn't afford a proper coat.

Without hesitation, he took his off and before you could protest, he placed it on your shoulders.

"I insist," he said gently but firmly when you wanted to give it back.

A new silence settled between you. Christopher couldn't help but notice your similarities. You didn't speak much, looked serious but you had a certain dignity and you seemed deeply kind even if he guessed a volcanic temperament if you attacked those you loved, as you had shown when he dared to say that your dog was just a dog.

"Henry, that's a funny name for a dog," he finally dared to say.

"I called him that because when I found him, I was reading a book about Henry VIII."

"Found ?"

"Yes, an old farmer had abandoned his dog's entire litter in the middle of the woods. It was in the village where I used to live. Henry was the only puppy still alive. I brought him back and my father didn't have the heart to abandon him when he found him hiding in my room," you said before stopping suddenly, feeling like you had said too much.

But Christopher didn't judge you, not for your modest condition. He found you endearing, refreshing even in your own way.

"Can I drive you and Henry home ?" he offered kindly.

"That's nice, but we're going for a walk," you replied.

Christopher's smile immediately faded.

"Miss [Y/S], I insist, it's already pitch black."

"I don't think it's right for me to sit alone with you in your carriage," you said softly.

Christopher's eyes lit up with a flash of understanding. You had no chaperone to accompany you in the carriage and propriety shouldn't have made him insist, but it was cold, you were far from home, and he would not have been able to sleep properly tonight without being sure that you had returned home safely.

He was about to insist when, without warning, the rain began to fall, hammering the ground severely. He almost pushed you into the carriage before grabbing Henry and making him climb in at the same time as himself.

"You can't go back alone, by foot, in this weather, you will catch your death," he said in a tone that left no room for contradiction.

He told the coachman your destination and the carriage set off again. He wouldn't return home tonight finally, to his estate that he had so longed to return to, he wouldn't find his firm and comfortable bed and his governess's lemon cakes. He already knew that you would arrive home late, but he had no doubt that John and his mother-in-law would welcome him with open arms, even if he was not expected. It bothered him a little to impose himself like this, but he knew that the horse, and also the coachman, would not have the strength to make it all the way to Devonshire, then to Delaford.

The journey took place in comfortable silence. You were shivering slightly from the cold, snuggling in spite of yourself in the Colonel's oversized coat that smelled of cologne and another perfume whose name you did not know but that you had already smelled on your father's employer.

"May I ask you if you live alone with your father ?" Christopher dared to ask.

His intention wasn't entirely innocent. He wanted to know if you had a fiancé.

"Yes," you simply replied.

He wondered how old you were and what you did with your days, but he felt you were reserved and he himself was not a man who spoke easily about himself, he preferred not to bother you any further.

It was almost 10 pm when the carriage finally arrived near the modest cottage that the Hawthorns rented at a ridiculous price to your father. The place was small, modest. There were only four rooms: two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen as well as a small cold and poorly lit room that you used to take your baths.

Although you didn't know who Christopher really was, you guessed that he was important... and rich, and you couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by the smallness of your means, but at no time did Christopher seem to be bothered by it. He helped you down before handing you Henry.

"Come inside and get warm, [Y/S]," he said, bowing before adding, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you Colonel Brandon, really," you replied before disappearing inside, not without one last look at the man who still had his hazel eyes fixed on you.

Christopher then headed to his old friend John's, his thoughts filled with your face, your soft voice, that strange feeling you had awakened in him but that he tried to stifle at all costs. He didn't want to suffer, not again. He had finally learned his lesson. Love wasn't for him, you wouldn't make him suffer, not you too.

"Brandon ! My old friend, I didn't know we were expecting you !" John exclaimed when the butler announced Christopher.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this..." he began before being interrupted by Mrs. Jennings who told him with her usual joviality that he was always welcome at their home.

John invited him to drink a glass of his best whisky, a Scottish vintage that he particularly cherished, in his office. Christopher hesitated to confide in him about the intriguing encounter he had had, and wisdom made him hold his tongue. Until the next day, when at breakfast, when he ventured a few questions to Mrs. Jennings.

"Last night, as I was heading to your place, I met a young woman. A certain [Y/S]. Do you know her, Mrs. Jennings ?" he asked casually without telling the whole truth about your encounter.

"Oh, Miss [Y/S] ! I don't know her very well, she's a very private young lady, but..."

She knew a lot for someone who didn't know you and she was able to tell Christopher that you were a 28 year old spinster with no known fiancé. You were rather private although often seen with your faithful Henry.

"She sometimes walks on my land," John informed Christopher as he took a bite of bread, "I've never had the heart to tell her she walks on private land, she's so reserved that I don't want to make her uncomfortable," he added.

"Oh, and she seems so respectful and she's not doing anything wrong walking here with her dog. Poor child, she's always so alone." Mrs. Jennings said theatrically. "She sometimes helps out at the Hawthorne manor with the children. I did try to invite her to have tea with me once, but she told me she didn't think a girl like her belonged at my table."

"Nonsense !" John exclaimed, "Any pleasant and well-mannered person is worthy of being part of our acquaintances."

His mother-in-law nodded vigorously before continuing with the latest gossip, but Christopher was already no longer listening, his thoughts lost in a December night where the moon lit up your eyes a deep green.

Finally returning home, Christopher settled into his old worn fabric armchair, a book in his hand, but he wasn't reading. You were still there haunting his thoughts. He had felt this feeling before. Not like with Marianne, no. But like with Eliza.

He shook his head vigorously as if to get your image out of his head. He couldn't afford to have heartbroken, he wouldn't survive it, not when he had finally come to terms with the idea of being alone for the rest of his life, in the comfort of the Delaford, with his dogs. And yet, he didn't see his day go by. Not because he had been busy with his fishing trip and his horseback ride, but because his mind had been busy. Busy with you.

And for no real reason, he found himself visiting his friend John two days later, under the pretext of proposing a hunting trip. John accepted enthusiastically, unaware that his friend's real intention was to see you again. And it didn't take more than two days for him to come across you near the small river that crossed John's land. Recognising him, Henry ran towards him, barking happily.

"Miss [Y/S], what a nice surprise to see you again," Brandon said politely, bowing.

"Colonel Brandon, this is a surprise indeed," you replied, giving him a slight bow.

"You don't have any gloves," he remarked, a little concerned.

However, what he didn't mention, although he noticed it right away, was that you were wearing his coat, the one he had forced over your shoulders a few nights earlier and that you had forgotten to give him back. The fabric still smelled like him, in addition to being of undeniable quality, giving you a welcome warmth. Christopher was kind enough not to say anything, happy that you had something decent to cover yourself with.

"I never wear them," you replied, shrugging, "I can't turn the pages of my book with gloves," you added, showing him the book with the worn cover that you were holding in your hands.

"Can I accompany you on your walk, Miss [Y/S] ?"

You nodded shyly and you walked along the small river together, Henry at your side. The Colonel didn't seem bothered by your four-legged companion who regularly jumped on him, leaving his footprints on his black pants. When you apologised, a little embarrassed by Henry's behaviour, Christopher replied with a smile that he loved dogs and that it didn't matter to him that Henry decided to repaint his pants.

When the sky began to darken in the late afternoon, you politely excused yourself, stating that you should go home before nightfall.

"Can I walk you home ?" Brandon suggested, genuinely worried about letting you walk home alone.

You bit your lip, hesitant. On one hand, you didn't want to risk being seen with a man and having rumors spread about you, but on the other hand, you didn't want to risk hurting the kind Colonel Brandon. You finally agreed, praying inwardly that no viper's tongue in the village would see you two. Your wish seemed to have been granted and it was with the manners of a gentleman that Colonel Brandon wished you a good evening before waiting until you had closed the door behind you to turn on your heels.

In love. He was in love, for sure. And it wasn't an illusion this time. You were nothing like Eliza. You were neither lively nor spontaneous. In fact, you were more like him: thoughtful, calm and sparing with words. But you also had a certain depth, a certain culture and a natural curiosity to feed your mind. He knew that with you, he would always have a subject of conversation, whether it was books, poetry, art, theatre or music. He had understood it when, despite your lack of education on the subject, you had taken an interest in his life in the army and when you had started to drown him in questions not about him but about India, the different cultures and people he had met there, he had found it refreshing.

At no time had you asked a question about his field or made any allusion to his status. But that was where the problem lay in Christopher's mind. His status. He had never really given importance to social class differences. Not with Eliza. Not with Marianne. His father had taught him a first lesson, Marianne a second, more bitter than the first one. What would he do if you were also a dowry hunter?

Christopher wanted to be loved. Loved for himself, not for his wealth, not for the Delaford. Of course, if you were his he would spoil you like never before. You would have the most beautiful dresses, your own coats, gloves, clothes for every season and jewellery to match each dress.

You would have access to all the books you wanted and he would teach you to draw and play the piano so that you could occupy your time in his big house. But it was not for all that he had to offer that he wanted you to love him in return. It was for himself and a small, vicious voice told him that a girl like you, a girl of little condition, penniless, a gardener's daughter, an old maid at that, could never truly love him for himself. But another small voice, weaker but still there, told him that he must not let himself be swayed by a bad experience.

After all, Marianne was just a child, a capricious and changeable little girl and he wasn't even sure that her real interest in his love stories was money. With her impulsiveness, Marianne fell in love as easily as one falls off a chair and he wondered if she would keep her promise made before God to be faithful to her high judge. Although he knew the latter well enough not to doubt that he would hold this little demon with an iron fist.

Several miles from the Delaford, your thoughts were haunted too. Haunted by a tall man with dark blond hair and hazel eyes. His eagle-beaked nose that made him even more distinguished and his shy smile haunted you. You knew exactly what you felt for him. You had known it the moment he had wrapped you authoritatively in his coat before forcing you into his carriage to take you home on that December night lit only by the moon.

You loved him. You loved him as you had thought you loved twelve years earlier. But you realized today that what you had taken for love at only sixteen had nothing to do with what you felt for the dark Colonel Brandon. This time, you were experiencing true love, the kind that burns you from the inside, consumes you, haunts your nights and fills your days.

But you had no right to love him. By discreetly asking around at the old bakery, you had learned who Colonel Christopher Brandon really was. A man who wasn't for you. A man too good, too important, too rich. How could a man like him ever be interested in a woman like you ?

But that wasn't all. Even if, by some totally improbable chance, Colonel Brandon could have the slightest interest in you, you were hiding something. A secret that would repel any man, even a man of your status. A secret that only your grandmother knew and that she had taken with her to her grave. A secret that would die with you but that condemned you to remain alone forever.

A few days later, you were alone outside in the middle of the night, frozen to the bone as a pure white snow fell on Dorsetshire. Henry was sheltered in your coat, or at least the Colonel's coat. The little rascal had burrowed away again and now you were both going to catch bluetongue. If it hadn't been for the full moon, you would never have been able to find your way through all that white. Just then, in front of you came a man on horseback, a magnificent black stallion with a fine appearance.

Inwardly, you felt anxiety take hold of you. It was late and you could tell that the rider was a man, and you hoped that he was a man with good intentions.

The closer the horse got, the more familiar the figure on it seemed to you. But it was only when he was a few steps away from you that you recognized Colonel Brandon, dashing in his long wool coat.

"Miss [Y/S] !" he exclaimed in an almost angry tone, "what are you doing out in this weather ? You're going to catch your death !"

"It's Henry, he disappeared again himself again," you replied in a very small voice.

Hearing his name, the dog stuck his head between the flaps of the coat, his tongue hanging out trying to catch the snowflakes that were falling on you.

"Maybe we should build a proper barrier to stop your companion from scaring you to death... and freezing."

Brandon had said this with a firmness that left no room for any kind of humour. You nodded timidly, shivering despite the warmth of his coat.

"Give him to me," Brandon ordered.

You hesitated for a moment but when he held out his gloved hands towards you, you handed him Henry without fear. Deep down, you knew he wouldn't hurt your best friend. Christopher placed your dog inside his own coat, then he held out your hand.

"Ride with me, I'll take you home !"

You placed your hand in his hesitantly and he hoisted you up without any harm behind him before setting his horse into a gallop.

Your hands hooked on his hips, you gently rested your head against his back. You could feel the warmth emanating from his body pierce you and for a moment, you imagined what it must be like to be loved by a man like him.

When the horse stopped in front of the cottage you shared with your father, the snow had stopped falling and it shone like millions of diamonds under the benevolent gaze of the moon.

"Your father isn't here ?" Brandon asked worriedly, seeing no candles lit in your candle, nor the smoke of a warm fire burning in the fireplace.

"No. The Hawthornes are having a small party for the staff and he was invited," you replied as he helped you dismount.

Christopher dismounted as well, Henry still sheltered against his chest.

"Do you need help lighting the fire ?" Brandon asked, genuinely concerned.

"No, thank you Colonel, but I'll be fine."

The truth was that you couldn't start the fire eight times out of ten, but if anyone found out that a man had come into your house while your father wasn't there to chaperone you, it didn't matter that you were already 28, the rumour that you were a girl of easy virtue would spread like wildfire in the village and your father would risk losing his job with the Hawthornes, people of great kindness but who couldn't stand to be the object of mockery, especially at the fault of their employees.

"Good evening, Miss [Y/S]," Brandon murmured, his gaze tender.

"Colonel, I can't go home," you murmured.

"Why ?" Christopher asked in a whisper.

"Because you're still holding my dog in hostage," you replied with a slight smile.

Christopher chuckled before handing Henry back to you, but as he placed him in your arms, his fingers lingered longer than necessary on your icy hand.

Gently, he untied the silk scarf that brought a little more warmth to his throat and chest to place it around you, adding a touch of modesty to your fragile form in the face of his imposing stature. The scarf, light and delicate, immediately offered you an additional touch of warmth, a touch of warmth that manifested itself in a delicate blush on your cheeks, a touch of warmth caused by the violent feelings you felt for Christopher Brandon.

"I offer it to you. As well as the coat. They will keep you warm this winter," Brandon said softly, almost as if he were reciting poetry.

"Colonel..." you murmured, too moved to add a thank you.

"Miss [Y/S]..."

He hesitated for a moment. What he was about to say would change the destiny of both of you forever. He wasn't going to offer to be your friend. No, he was going to take a risk, a new one.bet against the reason that pushed him to make you a mere memory, against his heart that screamed at him that he would suffer again, against the love that seemed to refuse him with force, leaving him a little more broken each time.

"Miss [Y/S], do you allow me to court you ?"

A million emotions crossed your gaze and he could not name any of them. Inside, you screamed with joy while your heart beat so hard that you wondered if it would not explode with love. But there was this secret. This secret that could destroy the slightest illusion that you could nourish towards the slightest spark of love between Colonel Brandon and yourself. Yet, if your head told you to say no to him immediately so as not to hurt him later, so as not to hurt this man who seemed sincerely good and kind and who deserved so much better than you, it was your heart that answered.

"Yes."

You said it in a breath, your eyes diving into his. With tenderness, he caressed your face, a slight smile softening his features so often severe while you allowed yourself a sincere smile that hid your fear that he could learn what had haunted you for more than twelve years.

"I promise to always respect you miss [Y/S]," Christopher murmured, confusing your apprehension for what you were hiding with the fear that he was playing you.

"Colonel, please, call me by my first name," you asked him candidly.

"Only if, in private, you call me Christopher."

You nodded with emotion. He squeezed your small hands in his, smiling slightly at Henry's antics who was impatient at the idea of going back to get warm.

"Come back, [Y/N], get warm. I'll come back to see you tomorrow and talk to your father. I'll ask for his blessing to court you properly."

And without waiting to answer, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, while on this December evening, only the moon was witness to this hope that you both nourished. The hope of a new chance, of redemption, of finally knowing true love.

#rickmas2024 #deepperplexity #Colonel Brandon #alan rickman x reader #Colonel Brandon x Reader #Colonel Brandon x OC #sense and sensibility #evans23

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greattigerssimp · 1 month ago

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Punch Out x Pokemon crossover headcannons!

Gift for my bestie @vampirtulpe , lover of both Punch Out and Pokemon. In this crossover AU, all the boxers are actually trainers who all go to the same stadium to battle, train, and raise pokemon. Each trainer fights with 4 pokemon, unless your Mr. Sandman (aka the champion in this AU)

Little Mac 🇺🇲🥊🟢

- Traveling trainer (ash ketchum wannabe) from Unova

- Strict, but not as strict as Mr. Sandman when training his pokemon

- Team consists of Hitmonchan, Raichu, Cinderace, and a Riolu he hatched thnx to Doc. The ultimate main character team

- Doc travels with him and basically acts like Brock

Glass Joe 🇫🇷 🥐

- Kalos (aka best region!!! No I don't take criticism :33) inhabitant

- Very soft when it comes to training pokemon... dude will spoil his pokemon rotten and wonder why they aren't powerhouses

- Team consists of Dachsbun, Slurpuff, Glaceon, Magikarp, and a baby Goomy he never let's fight.

- Very close to the Dachsbun... his uncle, Gabby Jay owned it as a Fidough, and Joe adopted it when Gabby died (he didn't die to Nick in this AU, but rather of a heart attack-)

- Squimish about seeing cute pokemon fight; would much rather be a pokemon performer

Von Kaiser 🇩🇪🔩

- Owns his own pokemon gym that specializes in steel types. It's only accessible to younger trainers

- Used to be a good trainer in his youth, but slowly got outclassed

- Originated in uhhhh Sinnoh (game freak German region when???)

- Team consists of Klinklang, Ambipom, Chingling, and Probopass.

- Caught Chingling very recently, mistakenly thinking it was a steel type. He keeps it for emotional support

Disco Kid 🇺🇲 🕺

- Travelling trainer from Unova, but he lacks the main character energy

- Invented "pokecise," a trainer-pokemon type of exercise that's supposed to strengthen a bond... or whatever lol.

- Sometimes does double battles with Heike Kagero, and overall prefers double battles.

- Speed specialist

- Team consists of all four Oricorio forms... and a Mime Jr. he doesn't battle with

- He uses the Mime Jr. to use Teeter Dance on random people for shits and giggles.

King Hippo 🏝 🦛

- Rumored to be from Alola

- May or may not he a mutated pokemon... if you throw a poke ball at him, he'll go inside of it.

- Team consists of Alolan Exeguttor, Ludicolo, Slowking, and of course, Hippowdon.

- Doesn't grunt or growl in this AU. Rather, he says the word "Hippo" over and over again.

Piston Hondo 🇯🇵🥊

- Classic Kanto boy

- He IS that guy from the Saffron dojo who gifts you either a Hitmonchan or a Hitmonlee

- Is constantly pushing the other trainers (boxers), especially Joe, to train harder every single day.

- His team consists of Ninetails, Farfetch'd, Curly Tatsugiri, and Scizor

- Traded Joe the eevee that would evolve into his Glaceon for an unhappy scyther Joe couldn't train

Bear Hugger 🇨🇦 🐻

- Uhhh Johto native (NO CANADA REGION GRRR)

- Adores pokemon, especially baby pokemon. He's got a knack for breeding

- Spends all day training in the woods and on routes

- Scares unsuspecting travelling trainers at night

- Team consists of Greedant, Stantler, Obamba snow :], and Ursaring

- Had a pachirisu at some point, but it got poached and died by an evil pokemon team

- Bonus: if Lomasi (me OC) was in this AU, her team would consist of Staraptor, Sunflora, Beautifly, and Xatu.

Great Tiger 🇮🇳 🐅

- No India region sooooo idk maybe Alola trainer

- Wants to be a psychic trainer very badly

- Has yet to be indoctrinated into the psychic trainer mental circle

- Hates medicham with a burning passion (I'm projecting ehehe-)

- Team consists of Espeon, Persian, Delcatty, and Incineroar

- Rivalry with Hondo

- Yeah he loves cat pokemon... sadly that takes priority over catching psychic pokemon

Don Flamenco 🇪🇸 🥀

- Wants to be a dancing, agile-type trainer like Disco Kid, and ended up being better than him

- Adores pokemon contests

- From Paldea, and has basically traveled all over the region

- Team consists of Roserade, Bellosom, Luvdisc, and Quaquaval.

- Caught a Greavard during his emo phase

- Bonus, since vamp ✨️ adores ✨️ my version of Carmen... her team consists of Sylveon, Lopunny, Bruxish, and Arbok... if yall know, yall know.

Aran Ryan 🇮🇪 😈

- Rumored to have been a Team Yell member

- Has fought pokemon with his bare hands before, and he'll do it again

- From Northern Galar

- No real ambition, just likes terrorizing people with his pokemon

- Team consists of Zoroark, Obstagoon, Scrafty, Skuntank, and a family Wooloo he inherited and doesn't let fight

- That Wooloo is just as fearsome as the rest of his team

Soda Popinski 🇷🇺 🍾

- (NO RUSSIA REGION REEE) He's from Sinnoh, specifically snowpoint

- Has beaten the snowpoint gym leader multiple times, but he was gatekept from becoming an ice gym leader because of his intimidating height drinking issues

- Stupidly tall, but baby pokemon are naturally attracted to him

- Was almost bribed into d0ping his pokemon... thankfully in this AU, he doesn't do that.

- Team consists of Polteageist, Walrein, Spinda, and Beartic

- He captured the Spinda and the Sinistea when he was drunk one time

Bald Bull 🇹🇷 🐂

- From Paldea, specifically Alfornada city

- Definitely likes pokemon more than people

- Doesn't necessarily like battling super hard because it triggers his anger

- Once killed an evil team member

- Team consists of Blaze Breed Paldean Tauros, Boufalant, Darmanitan, and Primeape

- That primeape doesn't take well after Bull...

Super Macho Man 🇺🇸 🌊

- Native Alolan resident (he's not white in this AU)

- Ex-water gym leader of Alola; got fired after a certain tantrum he had as an actor

- Well known poke-actor

- ALWAYS trains his pokemon by the beach

- Team consists of Palafin, Poliwrath, Alolan Raichu, and Mantine

- He owns a LOT more water pokemon than what I listed lol

Mr. Sandman 💤 🟢

- Champion of the WVBA league

- Undeafeated

- Is also the manager of said league... he bosses over the other trainers and what they do

- Is the paul-trainer (Pokemon are objects to make me win) type

- As a champion, he's allowed to have 6 pokemon

- Only WVBA trainer that does hyper training

- Team consists of Machamp, Musharna, Sandaconda, Dusknoir, Pyroar, and Annihilape.

- First pokemon he got was Machop... that's the pokemon he's closest too.

Bonus! Here's Dragon Chan (bc I said so) 🇨🇳🐉

- Traveling dragon master

- Not a permanent member of the WVBA trainers, but he visits often

- Very hyper active, tall dude... his pokemon share his hyper active-ness

- Adores challenging random people to battles

- His goal is to become a professional dragon pokemon tamer

- Team consists of Hydrapple, Hitmonlee, Blaziken, and a timid Dragonair

- Also carries around an egg containing a Bagon

Yw vampir, Ily bestie !!!! Thnx for being an awesome rp partner <3

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gregorovitch-adler · 6 months ago

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Title: Clandestine Meetings.

Fandom: ACD canon (and related).

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character (unrequited love from OC's side).

Rating: T.

Words: 19,539.

Chapters: 8/8

Summary:

Devi Dey has moved from India to London, England with her husband Debashish Dey. Mr Dey has to face injustice at workplace, and that is how Mrs Dey ends up at 221 B Baker Street, asking Holmes and Watson for help.

Mr and Mrs Dey's marriage does not seem to work quite well, and Mrs Dey ends up falling for Mr Sherlock Holmes during the process of his crime solving with Dr Watson's assistance.

Mrs Dey has to deal with two things: the uncertainty of her husband's job, and the feelings that she has developed for the great detective.

Hello everyone! @nowiamcoveredinyou and I wrote a fanfic based on the original stories. It's a case fic, exploring a case adventure and the sentiments that Devi Dey develops for Holmes.

Check out the link! We hope you like it. 😊

Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @jamielovesjam @peanitbear @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl , etc.

#sherlock holmes #john watson #original female character #acd canon #case fic #unrequited love #fic collab #my new fic #fanfic #sherlock x oc #(unrequited)#angst #hopeful ending #period typical racism #historically accurate #(sort of)#corruption #false allegations #Holmes and Watson are best friends

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bonerot19 · 5 months ago

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u mentioned about mr singh being representation for the indian population in ur fic! could u tell me more about him? i’d love to know, as an indian person myself :3

hi! thanks for asking!

as a white person, I like to look up the demographics of the area I'm writing about and making OC's for (in the case of fictional gotham I looked up new jersey) bc I think we (white people) have a bad habit, a laziness, of just defaulting to making everyone white

so, partially, that's where Mr. Singh came about, because, as that post said, new jersey is often called 'little India'. he was also inspired a bit by my high school best friend's dad, an Indian man who moved to the US with his young family and who was always very kind to me. Mrs. Singh is very very very vaguely based on that same friend's mom who insisted on sending me home with food whenever I visited, because she knew we didn't have a lot of it at home and she was going to fix that in any way she could

the Singh's own a convenience store because I love the concept of the local bodega, specifically the kind you hear about in NYC, where the bodega/corner store guys are pillars of their community. where I live, a lot of the convenience stores are owned by Indian immigrants and so Mr. Singh was also inspired by the guy who owns the store next door to a place I used to live. he was the best, always chatted with you, remembered you, knew your favorite stuff and really cared about his community. I'd go in for a coffee and end up staying and talking for fifteen minutes about us both being immigrants to Canada.

all of this to say, I wanted a character that was a happily involved in his community, someone that would take on a familial role with Jason. I looked up demographics so I didn't just slap a white guy into a role, and when I saw that new jersey is called little India I thought of my friend's dad, and then I thought of my beloved convenience door guy and our mutual sadness, when I moved away. so Mr. Singh and his family are a bit of an homage to those guys, who had a positive impact on my life bc they gave a shit

#oops thanks for coming to my tedtalk #I just really like mr singh #I am emotionally attached to him now #my fic!!#ask #lesbianbootheng

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cursedwithwords · 11 months ago

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HP Next Gen OCs: Band Edition

In my version of the next gen, Fred Weasley grows up and opens a nightclub that caters mostly to the wizarding community (this includes squibs and muggles who have some connection to the community), called Colours.

Within the club, he has live music performed by an in-house band called "No One of Consequence" — a group of five with varying backgrounds that he met by pure chance in Diagon Alley. He hired them almost immediately after hearing them play, and they live together in a flat above the club to make it easier to come to work.

Fred only knows a little about each of their backgrounds but trusts them implicitly and loves their company. They become a huge draw to the club, which is even more exciting. Considers them to be his partners, even though he's technically their boss; he sees them as equals.

Name: Malika Shaan

Origin: India

Wand: none

Patronus: none

Profession: Drummer

Sexuality: bisexual

Details: born in India to a long line of illustrious potioneers. For generations, her family has produced incredibly skilled wizards and witches; until she was born. A squib with absolutely no magical inclination, rather than being accepted, she was shunned by her family and considered a dark omen, a sign of their families downfall. The only member of her family who cared for her was her great, great grandfather Malik Shaan, whom she was named for. The patriarch of the family, he was the only one who loved her and took care of her. The rest of her family — parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings — abused and neglected her, locking her in the family estate and refusing to admit her existence to the rest of the wizarding world. She was an embarrassment, after all.

Malik despised the way the rest of the family treated her, seeing her as good fortune rather than bad, but his age and perceived mental decline made it so the rest of the family refused to acknowledge his will despite being the head of the family. So, out of spite, Malik gifts Malika an ancient book of potions that had been passed down for generations in their family. An heirloom meant to be passed to the next head of house, Malik decides they don't deserve it. So when he feels his health fading he gives the book to Malika and tells her to leave the country, because the family no longer deserves the prestige of their name if they're willing to abuse someone not of magical prowess. He passes away not long after Malika leaves.

She can't open the book as it's locked with a magical seal, but she never lets it out of her sight. She promised her grandfather she'd take care of their families legacy, and she intends to do so even at the cost of her own wellbeing. She wears a gold locket around her neck decorated with a crescent moon and a star. Gifted to her by Malik, it holds a photograph of the two of them and is her most prized possession.

Wears loose clothes, generally autumnal colors, and has a gold septum + gold labret piercing. Carries her drumsticks everywhere she goes. In a way, it makes her feel like she's holding a magic wand, which makes her feel closer to her grandfather. A part of her does feel disappointed and angry that she doesn't have magic but has learned to live with it.

Name: Adrien "Ren" Taylor

Origin: Australia

Wand: acacia and re'em horn (an heirloom wand passed down from her mother)

Patronus: bat

Profession: Bassist + Vocalist

Sexuality: aroace

Details: born in the Australian outback, five minutes older than her younger twin brother. Her mother was a Magizoologist while her father secretly worked in black market creature sales and transport. Mr. Taylor lied to his wife about what he did for work in order to access the rare magical beasts that she worked with as a Magizoologist. She was furious when she found out, but instead of letting her leave to call the authorities, he threw her into a room with a chained and injured beast and let her be torn to shreds. He was happy to be rid of her, but was left with two very young children to raise, and he did not want to deal with them.

He and his gang of black market thugs raised Adrien and her brother, teaching them magic through homeschooling and trying to instill a deep fear and hatred of magical beasts in the twins to make them "useful" to the gang. At a young age, her father locks her in an arena with a dangerous beast and is badly wounded. Instead of bringing her to a healer, her father allows her to develop blood poisoning and sepsis, claiming if she can't pull through on her own, then she simply isn't strong enough.

Out of desperation, her brother uses a rare and forbidden blood magic to brew a potion that remarkably enough manages to heal Adrien, but with the unforseen side effect of turning her into what the magical world considers to be a vampire; she develops a strange blood anemia that alters her genes to the point where she needs to consume blood to maintain healthy iron levels; though she hates taking blood from animals or people.

After discovering her vampirism, she and her brother are forced to acknowledge the fact that if their father discovered it, he would likely take advantage of it and extort her condition. Vampire blood and vampire fangs are rare commodities, after all, and their father wouldn't be against selling his own daughter for money. Even if he'd be selling her for parts. So they take what they can carry and run away.

Adrien manages her condition with iron supplements and isn't against stealing bags of blood from hospitals if she absolutely needs to. She's extremely pale, and the pigment faded from her hair as a side effect of her vampirism, leaving it white. Adrien is physically stronger than most people, amplified when she drinks actual blood. She burns easily in the sun, so sunblock and aloe vera are her best friends. Her eyes are naturally blue, but they grew paler after her change, the pigment fading just like it did in her hair.

She normally dresses in all black and has nose bridge and snakebite piercings, both silver.

Name: Mason Taylor

Origin: Australia

Wand: spruce and billywig stinger

Patronus: salamander

Profession: Guitarist | DJ

Sexuality: gay

Details: five minutes younger than his sister, they used to be near identical before Adrien's change, but Mason was born with heterochromatic eyes, which always made him unique. His left eye is the same blue as Adrien's, and just like his sister, he's subjected to alarming abuse by their father. A bit before his sister is injured, their father throws him into a cage with a frightened dragon that reacts by biting his left leg clean off just above the knee. Fit with a prosthetic and walks with a limp.

Transmasc, which adds to the harassment from his father and the gang, but his mother and sister have always been outrageously supportive. It isn't until they run away that he's able to work towards a life — and a body — that Mason can feel comfortable in.

This is reason number 7000 that he loves working for Fred at the club. They're both transmasc and actually have a ton in common, so they get along outrageously well. They have similar senses of humor, enjoy the same sort of media, and have a lot of respect for each other.

GayTransmascJokes™. They are insufferable together (Adrien is very happy for him).

Has a more extroverted personality than his sister, though they both still love animals and feel no hatred or vengeance towards them for the injuries they both sustained. He wears an old bomber jacket with a fur neckline, as well as a brown corded cattleman hat with an occamy feather stuck in the hat band. The feather was a gift from their mother. Not much for tattoos, but his ears are pierced. He and Adrien share a set of earrings that used to belong to their mother. They each wear one of the earrings.

Name: Imamu Abara

Origin: Uganda

Wand: cherry and augurey tail feather

Patronus: blackbird

Profession: Pianist

Sexuality: straight

Details: a graduate of Uagadou and a powerful seer, extremely talented in Divination and reading runes; though his personality is not what one would expect of a seer (basically the opposite of Trelawney). He gets his abilities from his mother's side of the family, where there have been powerful prophets in every single generation without fail. They can be identified by the alarming eye color that they all share — piercing gold, almost yellow, and practically glowing. Imamu hides his eyes behind extremely dark sunglasses in an attempt to protect himself from people who may want to take advantage of his ability.

He has prophetic dreams and can see snippets of people's pasts and futures when he looks them in the eye, which is why he does not like looking people in the eye. He's extremely talented at scrying through mirrors, which is how he prefers to "see". His mother is also a Uagadou graduate, born in Uganda like him, and his father is from London. They move to the UK after Imamu graduates.

In addition to his seeing abilities, he is also an animagus and can transform into a blackbird. He does not need a wand to perform spells, but his father insisted on getting him one when they moved to London, as additional padding of protection. The more "normal" he appears, the less people will badger him, and wandless magic is very rare in England, which makes him stand out too much.

A jokester with a sharp sense of humor and extremely charismatic. He plays into his appearance because he knows he's attractive and is very proud of it (he is his mother's son). He can play both the drums and the piano, just prefers the piano. It was his idea to start the band as a cover to protect his identity as well as his friends' identities because all of them are being hunted in some way.

Is absolutely enamored with Roxanne because he can not see into her head, and he likes that. She's a mystery to him, not realizing that the reason he can't see her future is because her future is with him (and no seer alive is able to see their own future).

Name: Julian "Jule" Reinhardt

Origin: Germany

Wand: willow and veela hair/dragon heartstring

Patronus: occamy

Profession: Bassist + Vocalist

Sexuality: demisexual

Details: born at the edges of the Black Forest to a fairly normal wizarding family, if allowed to grow up properly, he would have attended Durmstrang. Tragically, he was never given the opportunity, as he was kidnapped when he was extremely young by a pack of werewolves who lived in the deep mountains of the Black Forest.

A "family" consisting of just lycanthropes, though very few of them are related by blood. Their way of expanding on their "family" is by choosing young children and stealing them from their families, biting them for the purpose of creating a legacy of lycanthropy to be passed down. It's thought that the first werewolf was made from the Black Forest, which makes the "family" blind with the desire to maintain the purity of their history. Instead, they turn into murderers, kidnappers, and abusers. Jule is just one of the victims.

Julian has no memory of his original family and is not taught much magic by the pack, nor does he have a wand. He does know how the pack works, though, so he knows he had a family and that they are no longer alive. Unlike the rest of the pack, Julian has always felt like an outcast. In an act of desperation to escape the abuse, he decides to run away, though he is in constant fear of hurting people along the way.

He's absolutely terrible around people because of his isolation and has a lot of trouble trying to figure out how to act around them. Extremely quiet and cautious, he hates being touched. He's nervous and anxious but very protective of his people.

He's physically stronger than he realizes because of his lycanthropy (he doesn't know his own strength; in fact, he thinks he's extremely weak). Abysmal confidence (think albus pre-delphini). He doesn't have much faith in his magic and doesn't get a wand until he moves to England. Imamu takes him to Diagon Alley and Olivanders, where he ends up being chosen by an unusual willow wand with a core of braided dragon heartstring and veela hair.

Keeps his black hair long enough that he can use his bangs to cover his right eye, which he damaged badly during one of his first transformations, leaving him half blind and badly scarred. No one can see the scars if his bangs are in place and if they don't look too close. Most of his scars are on the rest of his body rather than his face, which he hides under thick layers of dark clothes: high neck shirts with long sleeves, leather gloves, jackets, etc.

Keeps his nails cut and filed as short as he can to the point where they sometimes bleed because he doesn't want to accidentally scratch someone. Wears gloves as an extra precaution. Also wears a black face mask over his nose and mouth when he's in public (that's how terrified of himself he is).

Being on the stage playing bass with his friends, who love him and understand him in spite of everything, is the only time he feels like he can be anything other than a victim. He's on the stage playing the first time he sees Louis, who he falls in love with at first sight. He doesn't realize it at first and thinks the racing of his heart is a sign of fear as that's the only thing he's ever felt in the past.

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nowiamcoveredinyou · 6 months ago

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Clandestine meetings (part 5)

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7, part 8

Sherlock x (married) oc!

After two days, Watson was again sat in his chair in the morning, with the newspaper in his hand. Wondering when will the door of Mr detective will open. He's been in his bedroom this whole morning. He went out once just to say he won't be having any breakfast today. He doesn't eat when he's got a case. After saying so he went inside and locked the bedroom door.

After a few minutes some faint footsteps were heard as Watson looked up. To his surprise, it was almost unrecognisable. Holmes was dressed as Mr Scott. The same moustache, same wig, and similar type of coat. And as luck favoured him, they both had similar eye colour.

“My God, Holmes! You look just like the man in the photograph.”

Holmes smirked and stole a glance at himself in the mirror, satisfied with his disguise, “Just stay here and wait. When you receive an empty wire with my name on it, I expect you to make a call to Scotland Yard.”

“Your wish is my command,” said Watson and nodded, staring at his tall figure as he went out of the flat with full enthusiasm.

As Holmes hired a cab and got into it he recalled every little detail Devi told him as she smartly, without any doubt made her husband speak of him. Mr Scott, his reputation in the office is of a quite yet joyous man, he talks to everyone with a big smile which Holmes had to work to get Mr Scott right. As he reached Mr Dey's office I sighed and got down from the cab. He stood for a second or two before getting inside. He smiled at everyone who noticed him with a bit confusion in their facial expression. Yet as everyone bid him good morning he also nodded and with a huge grin did the same. As he registered his name in the register a man came to him and asked,

“You were on leave, were you not?”

Holmes stared at him. Trying to deduce if there's any identity he can find of him, and there was, a paper he hold which he was working on as he held the fountain still in his hand, and under that paper was his signature, Mr Crawley. ��I never said that I would be gone forever Mr Crawley,” Holmes replied giving him a grin, a forced one yet such, that could convince anyone of him being Mr Scott, “I came early from my vacation so I thought of joining, I'll inform our manager don't worry”.

With a nod, Holmes quickly moved pass Mr Crawley and swiftly went to James Scott's cabin without making any further eye contact with anyone.

Holmes went straight to the desk and took some random papers which looked like important articles. He picked a few that he thought would be important to people, which went like “Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee” he rolled his eyes as he read it, such unimportant news yet people seem to love reading this news for hundredth time. “Match girl's strick” he seemed to find it more interesting than the previous, yet he gathered it without reading as he gathered another, “British colonised India” he stopped as he found it. He read the article, how blind has he been all this days he thought. Everything that glorified British newspaper was eventually traumatizing to, especially, the working class one, the farmers. He stood thinking how Mr Dey have been wronged. How much the biased eyes of police inspectors have to not see the obvious. But then he also recalled how wronged Devi has been by her husband. Shaking his head he gathered those three articles and made his way to Mr Dey's cabin straight. Unfortunately it was empty. And fortunately Mr Reynolds went out to a meeting with the monarchist and won't be coming until two hours. However this always happens, he goes out of the office each and every day for three to four hours. As Holmes was about get his work done someone called from behind,

“What are you doing here, Scott? Do you need something from Dey’s cabin?”

He turned to see a rather healthy man staring at him with suspicious eyes. Although Holmes wasn't moved a bit he kept his composer and said,

“He had asked me to tally some documents. I was just going inside for that thing. Why? Is he not here?” Holmes feigned innocence.

“Oh, my. Do you really not know what happened here? I shall tell you everything after work when we smoke a pipe together, do not worry.” he left with a smirk.

Holmes smiled politely and the man took his leave. He locked the door behind him, and began to search for the one specific file.

It did not take Holmes long to find the file: the one where Debashish Dey had supposedly written a wrong amount for the cost of newspapers in the town. The Daily Telegraph had not yet deemed it necessary to confiscate that document from Dey’s office.

Holmes looked through the document closely. He immediately noticed the overwriting that the file displayed where the actual amount was written. The overwritten part was certainly not done by Mr Dey. The handwriting was different. He was surprised of no one ever noticing this mistake, or perhaps it was hidden so no one notices anything , no one doubts anything, no one catches the real deal.

Holmes had a feeling that he knew whose handwriting it was.

He began to search for some more important papers to look for a document that might be handwritten by someone else.

He looked some more papers where others signatured and He then found Mr Reynolds’ Signature on a file, and his suspicion was correct.

It was Mr Reynolds who had manipulated Mr Dey’s file, and he was also the one who was actually corrupt. Mr Reynolds had framed Debashish Dey for being Indian, using the ongoing sour relation between these two country.

Holmes took both the documents with him as he went out of Mr Debashish Dey’s office to ask for a telegram paper at the reception, so that he could send a wire to Watson.

Watson had phoned the police and instructed them about where they had to go, exactly. Just as Holmes had asked him to.

The police had shown up on time, and they had arrested Reynolds on the charges of corruption, forgery, misleading the officers, and whatnot.

Holmes went back to Baker Street, and paced in his living room, gathering all the clues as he waited for Watson, who had begun to jot down the whole case at the study table in his bedroom.

It was done, this case was solved. It was a mere case of secrecy. A mere case of putting blame on an innocent.

He stopped and looked at his violin. Devi was fascinated with the instrument. Devi, she must be very happy seeing her husband being proved innocent. But what about her, her passion for sitaar?

Holmes went closer to the instrument and could only think of Devi and her helpless situation. What if Mr Dey still doesn't respect her? She was a young girl of twenty, she couldm’t let her life get wasted. However what Devi wanted was impossible for him.

It haunted him.

Though he wanted to help her, he couldn't quite do anything, could he? While he thought all of that, Watson entered the sitting room with a pen in his hand.

“Finally, you solved another case, Holmes. Congratulations.” Watson came in with all excitement. Finally to hear a conclusion of this absurd case.

Holmes nodded, smiling vacantly.

“Is something bothering you?” Watson walked over to have a seat on the armchair across from Holmes’ in the sitting room. His dear friend is always the most elated one after solving even the most mundane case is leaping in joy, why not today?

“Yes, dear fellow.” he answered looking away with a single nod.

A moment passed in silence, when doctor Watson started to wonder what could be the reason, until he recalled his friend with Devi, laughing, talking, sparkling in both of their eyes, especially of Devi's. “Does this have something to do with Mrs Dey?”

“You're in excellent form today, Watson. As it happens, yes. It has to do with the young lady.” He replied with a soft chuckle. Proud, seeing his friend's deduction being correct.

Watson hesitated to ask the question that came in his mind, however he smirked a little, wondering if his friend finally in love. “Are you in love? Is the cause of your current black mood and angst stemming from the fact that she is not an unattached woman?”

“I fail to see how you'd come to such a conclusion! You must know quite well that a man like me is not made for a sentiment like that. You are on the wrong track.” Holmes replied with evident irritation.

“Pardon me, Holmes. I took the liberty of arriving at that conclusion because I saw how close the two of you were when I came back from the park the other time.” he came closer wanting an answer.

“Well, then, you arrived at the wrong answer. In fact, the reverse is true. She is in love with me.”

“Did she say that to you?” Holmes' answer made his jaw drop. A married woman is in love with another man? And was she so unabashed that she uttered it to him?

“Not exactly, but I shall be deemed a sloppy detective if I couldn't even deduce that much at this point in my career.” Saying so Holmes finally sat in his chair, taking out his pipe.

“What can you possibly do about it? She is married. If you do not even feel the same way.” Watson sat accross him too as his friend blew a round of smoke into the air.

“That is the question. That is the very thing which is bothering me at present.” Replied Holmes.

“Perhaps you could promise her that you would write to her and she to you, every now and then. As good friends. This way you would not hurt her feelings.” Suggested Watson taking out his smoking pipe, but stopped before lighting it up. Disturbed by the whole situation.

“You truly are the conductor of light in my life.” Holmes smiled, considering his suggestion for a moment. Yet wanting if there's any other way to make that woman truly content, not with a man, but with herself.

Watson smiled fondly at Holmes, this time lighting his pipe and smoking. “Do it as soon as you can. Tomorrow, if possible.”

Holmes smiled back. “I will.”

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock tv #sherlockbbc #sherlock x oc

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 11 months ago

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Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 27

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2074

Warnings: Talk of death, angst

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Also sorry for the delay in posting this (again). I just got settled into my new place, so trying to get back into the swing of updated. Also happy belated birthday to Juliette and Ghost, who both share my bday :)

Chapter Songs: Stay Blindedsided

****

Ghost and Hangman left Texas the day after the funeral. It turned out to be a rough day for both of them because, after the ceremony, Jake had left the Blackwoods to grieve at their patriarch's headstone in private- despite knowing they would've been perfectly fine with his presence- and strolled through the cemetery until he came to a stop in front of a familiar marble stone inlaid into the soft grass. His body had reacted on its own accord as it slowly collapsed to the ground onto his knees. Hangman's eyes had stared at the engraving on the stone: Natalie Seresin.

He had talked to her, apologized for getting her killed, for cutting her beautiful life short. He told her of the fiasco he'd made of his life: how he'd pushed everyone he ever loved away, how he'd fucked things up with Ghost, how terrified he was to screw it up again, if the fallout would destroy him like it tried to last time. It'd come so close to succeeding before…

Hangman had told her of Michael Seresin's health issues and how Nick was on the lam; how he and Matt were rekindling their brotherhood and trying to be a family for once in their lives; how adorable her granddaughter Sophie was and what an asshole Jake had been to hold off meeting her for so long because of his anger at his father and brothers.

Ghost had found Hangman. She had silently knelt beside him, taken his hand in hers, and waited for him to speak the first word. He didn't remember what he said, but they ended up in his truck mindlessly driving on back roads for hours, sometimes chatting, sometimes not, but those silences never felt awkward, and only when they returned to North Island did Hangman's fear of losing her rear its ugly head again, telling him he didn't deserve her, let alone a second chance.

It was those thoughts that consumed him while he and Ghost sat on his couch with alcohol in hand. She had dreaded spending the night alone tonight, and Hangman was more than happy to oblige her request to stay with him for a bit. They were in the middle of watching the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, which she and Juliette adored. It'd even surpassed Ghost's love of The Notebook, and honestly, Hangman could kind of see why. It certainly had a happier ending!

"Okay, Mr. Darcy-" he began, pointing at the TV with his whiskey glass and nearly sloshing the liquid out- "or Noah Calhoun?"

Ghost groaned in despair. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Because I love you." The truth slipped out so casually, but Ghost would never suspect he meant it as anything more than platonic. She had never figured it out after all these years, and Hangman was content with the situation because it let him get his feelings off his chest without any risk of getting his heart well and truly broken by her inevitable rejection.

"That kind of question makes me think you hate me. If I had to choose…" Ghost bit her lip and then took a sip of her Bailey's and whiskey. "Darcy. I'm such a sucker for the brooding type."

"Is that why you fell for Rooster?" Hangman teased, bumping her knee playfully with his.

She glowered at him, but the hint of a smile tugging on her lips took the venom out of it. "We were both in shit emotional states, and he looked a lot better brooding than I did."

Hangman's face fell into one of disagreement. "I hold an informed opinion when I say you look better brooding. This may have to do with me having to watch Bradshaw pine for Juliette from the moment he saw her when we arrived for the training. Don't get me wrong; I get it with their history, but still, annoying to deal with on a daily basis. Especially because those lovesick puppy eyes were involved."

Ghost raised an eyebrow at him. "You staring at Rooster's face a lot?"

"I had to gauge my competition, both for the training detachment and romantically. Bradshaw wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can see whatever he's feeling. From the first night we arrived, he had his eyes set on her. I had history to contend with, and I figured out pretty quickly winning her heart was a lost clause."

"You really liked Juliette, didn't you?" The question came out more of a statement, and Hangman winced at the sound of it. "I knew you had a flirtationship, but I never realized you had genuine feelings for her."

Hangman shrugged to give an air of indifference. "It is what it is. My family isn't exactly lucky in love, except for Matt."

"I've seen the way girls look at you. You could have any girl you want. What gives?"

None of them are you. "Haven't found one I clicked with in a long time," he replied, eyes trained on the amber liquid in his glass before knocking the rest back. "You want more to drink?"

Ghost nodded and followed him to the bar, where he poured their glasses fuller than he should've. He probably didn't need more, considering the strong buzz he currently felt, so Ghost had to be buzzing as well, although if she was, she didn't show it outside of talking more animatedly. She'd always been able to hide her drunkenness well. Sometimes too well.

"Who was the girl you clicked with?" Ghost prodded. "Was it back at the Academy?"

"Yeah, but she didn't feel the same. We shared one drunken kiss, and that was it. I was actually doing it to save her from some creep." Jake bit his tongue, realizing he might've said too much. Ghost would figure out he spoke of her if he said anymore. He had to move past it. "It is what it is. Besides, I'm happily married to my job."

Ghost leaned against the bar on her forearms. "Did I know her?"

"Yeah, you knew her." Hangman hoped his short response would end that topic of conversation.

Ghost had other ideas. "Who was she?"

"I don't see the point in saying it since it's in the past, and telling you now won't change anything about it."

"Well-" Ghost began matter-of-factly- "she missed out, but I think you got it wrong about her not returning the feelings. All the girls at the Academy had a crush on you at some point. Hell, I'm pretty sure a few of the instructors did."

Hangman searched her eyes, and a certain amount of anxiety crept into his heart. She knows. She knows I'm talking about her. But why isn't she saying that aloud? Is Ghost trying to save me from the embarrassment? Or maybe... is she trying to save herself from it?

Hangman decided to play the game. "All the girls," he echoed, straightening and stepping closer to her. "Does that include yourself?"

Ghost stood but still leaned against the counter. He saw her breathing hitch a little, giving him his answer. "Like I said. All girls had a crush on you at some point."

He took another step toward her, so close now that one deep breath from either of them would cause their chests to touch. "And now?"

Do not start anything! This is a bad idea. Abort mission. Abort! Abort! Abort! The warning bells clanged loudly in his head, but seeing Ghost's eyes drop to his mouth wiped those thoughts from his head in one fell swoop.

"Jake-"

His name rolling off her tongue broke him. Hangman leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, soft, restrained, and questioning, giving her the opportunity to pull away in case he'd horribly misread the signs. In case he'd overstepped any boundaries.

Ghost hands found their way to his face, gentle but firm. Hangman's willpower caved at the green light she'd granted him, his arms wrapping around her torso to pull her close to him, her soft curves flush against his solid abdomen. He couldn't get enough. Couldn't get enough of the taste of his whiskey on her lips, the smell of her Jo Malone perfume enveloping him, the softness of her hair as one of his hands tangled up in it.

"Stop." Ghost's quiet voice dragged Hangman out of his euphoria. He leaned back to look at her, wondering what happened, what he had done wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, carefully brushing a stray piece of hair from her face.

Ghost disentangled herself from his arms, leaving him feeling cold and empty. She backed away while shaking her head. "I can't- I can't do this."

"I'm sorry. I- what did I do? Did I misread-" Hangman started reaching out for her but immediately stopped when she stepped back.

"It's not y- I can't do this. We just..."

"What is it?" Hangman inquired, dreading where this was going.

The pained expression on her face only deepened. She opened her mouth but closed it just as fast, searching for the words she wanted. "Why? Why did you leave me?"

He blinked, processing her question, fearing the route he knew they were heading. "What are you talking about?"

"After the accident, when I was clinging to life in sick bay, when I had just lost my best friend, where were you?" Ghost demanded, taking a challenging step toward him, fury temporarily wiping away her sadness. "I died and came back, I waited for you, I asked Coyote where you were, begged God for you to come see me, and you were nowhere to be found. For fuck's sake, even Cyclone and Warlock visited me despite the shit they were dealing with in the aftermath of the accident to see how I was holding up. Phoenix, who I barely knew at the time, came to check on me. Coyote was at my bedside every day and tried to cheer me up even though he was reeling from the loss of his girlfriend, and you-" Ghost's breath hitched- "you were nowhere to be seen. Why?"

Hangman gulped, desperately trying to gain control of his mind and block out the horrific memories and thoughts that plagued him from that time. In a strained voice, he replied, "I thought you didn't want to see me. I thought- I thought you blamed me for the accident."

"Blamed you? Jake, I know Javy told you I wanted to see you. I even asked fucking Cyclone and Warlock to send you, but nothing! Why would I ask for you if I hated you? Why would I defend you in the trial for the accident if I blamed you for it? And I know you avoided me before the trial, how you always managed to disappear before I could reach you from across the room. So, I'm not buying it. There's something else that stopped you. What was it?"

"I- I can't-" Hangman found himself at a loss for words; the images of what he'd seen, of what it reminded him of, rendered him speechless, incapable of defending himself against the barrage of valid fury and hurt Ghost hurled at him. God, he wanted to tell her, to tell her everything, but he couldn't. Hangman couldn't bring himself even to the edge of that long, dark hole of endless despair he'd spiraled into after Ghoul's death. If Hangman did, he was terrified he wouldn't be able to pull himself out again.

"I have never needed anyone in my life," Ghost said, her voice cracking. Tears brimmed her eyes, threatening to cascade down her flushed cheeks. Barely able to get the words out, she whispered hoarsely, "But I needed you then, Jake. When I needed you most, you left me alone. Why?"

I loved you. That's why I couldn't be there. The words lodged in his throat, paralyzing fear taking control of his body.

Ghost scoffed in disgust. "Even after all this time, you still can't tell me. I should've known. Goodbye, Jake."

She turned on her heel, grabbed her purse, and exited his apartment, leaving Hangman rooted to the spot and realizing that goodbye had been final. She'd given him a second chance, and he'd blown it. She handed him the perfect opportunity to explain himself, and like the coward he was, he clammed up.

The black hole of despair he'd escaped for years finally won as he tumbled back into it.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @kmc1989

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zyuu-fusil · 1 year ago

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Hellsing OC: Eshika Cheema

(Commission by @.爱嘟生活馆 on Bilibili)

A brief introduction of my OC's early life, including her relationship with Walter, though I haven't decided the ending for her.

The format referred to the Hellsing fandom wiki. Thanks to the contributors!

I'm not a native English speaker, so feel free to point out my mistakes here ; )

Early Life

Eshika was born in India in 1944, her parents both serving Mrs. Hellsing's family for long. When Mrs. Hellsing got married with Arthur, young Eshika moved to England with her, and settled in the Hellsing's maison.

When they just arrived, servants in the house often gossiped about the two outsiders behind their backs. The girl, loyal to her hostess, confronted them every time she heard it. Once an argument intensified, and Eshika had to stand against several maids alone. Walter, having just finished his job, returned and called off the farce.

"Why do they respect you, but don't respect us?" said the girl, as she sat on the stairs and watched the young man light a cigarette. "In this house, you have to win respect for yourself," answered Walter. "Then... may I become someone like you?" Walter paused; for the very first time, he looked into the foreign girl's eyes, moist and stubborn. She was outnumbered by enemies but never flinched, for something she wanted to protect... With his heartstring pulled a little, the young butler exhaled smoke and smiled. "Yes, you may."

Later on, Eshika took the training of the Hellsing Organization to become a vampire hunter.

Before the Events of HELLSING

As the Millennium's first recession, Arthur decided to seal Alucard. Walter and Eshika focused more on the internal affairs of Hellsing family, rather than hunting down vampires.

Shortly after giving birth to Integra, Mrs. Hellsing passed away. On her deathbed did she ask Eshika to take care of her daughter. The housekeeper promised to protect Integra with her own life. Then she became Integra's nanny, took care of her in her everyday life, and taught her specific knowledge, like alchemy.

In 1989, Arthur passed away, and entrusted 12-year-old Integra with the Hellsing Organization. Sir Irons suspected his brother Richard would harm Integra and warned Walter in advance, but Walter had already become a secret spy for the Millennium. Instead of stopping Richard, he brought Eshika away from the maison in the excuse of a "date". As a result, Integra released Alucard to save herself. Eshika was guilty to expose the young lady to danger, against her promise to the late hostess. Although she didn't get suspicious of Walter, the incident made their relation unable to go beyond fellowship.

Later on, Walter and Eshika, as the maison's butler and housekeeper, helped Integra run the Hellsing Organization, until the Millennium made its comeback...

TBC.

#OC: Eshika Cheema #Canon X OC #Hellsing #OC #Hellsing OC

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sukibenders · 6 months ago

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no Edwina is married to an Indian and lives in her hometown in India, free my girl from the inbred prince who’s best characteristic is being “nice”, you losers clinging onto that white man when it’s canon she’s happy living her best life with a desi is sus af, I know what you are

Well, unless it was stated differently in s3 pt 2 (which I haven't seen except for small clips, none of which involve Edwina) then I stick by my point. Mr. Bagwell hasn't even been added or mentioned in the show, if that's who you are referring too (again, haven't seen s3 pt 2). I've shipped Edwina with a variety of characters, whether it be from Eloise to Friedrich or the original guy she marries in the books (who I also headcanon as Desi even if I don't talk about him much on this app) to Marina to even other random ocs, but Friedrich was the just main guy. It was never about race in hindsight but more because I wanted her to be a princess, which she deserves. It's kind of sus that, from all I've posted which was merely just fun headcanons, you thought it was something it wasn't. 🤔

I don't even know why you even came here being rude about a headcanon that, on one spectrum, is purely for enjoyment and on the other, about giving Edwina the respect she deserves (most of the Fredwina fans I interact with give her more development following s2 outside of even mentioning Friedrich, so it's not as if her whole persona is now revolving around this yte man). If you don't ship them, that's fine and, to be honest, I would have even enjoyed to see who you paired her with (because other people I follow sometimes ship her with someone outside the prince as well, not everyone has to like him) until you decide to get hostile and refer to me, and others, as "losers". If you don't even ship them, then why not block the Fredwina tag altogether? I know what you are, apparently.

I get not liking or really caring for Friedrich, as most of his character showwise is very simple and what is added comes from the fandom headcanon itself. You're entitled to that. But don't come to my page and try to write off something that brings me joy and amusement occasionally as something it's not, just because it doesn't suit your fancy. Is there a trope in fandom that happens with placing black and brown women with a yte man, especially in historical pieces, and the many murky, gross things surrounding it? Yes, I can acknowledge that and, in a way, see your apprehension for it in that manner. However, which you would see if you've even looked through my blog especially in regards to Fredwina instead of immediately writing it off, the ship itself does not fall into that trope (most from what I've seen and interacted with, so if you found something else then please share) and many of the Fredwina fans that I know have actively taken the time to display the importance in Edwina's heritage rather than write it off (I also literally have post that call out the show itself for how poorly it handled certain topics like this, so why would I be backing a ship that holds the problems that you so claim? 🤨) Again, if you don't ship them that's fine, but don't try to paint it (and random people you don't know with little evidence) as something it's/they are not. Have a good day.

#anon #anonymous

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the-lupine-sojourner · 8 months ago

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Meet Alicia Grace Speedwagon (was Hughes before she married)!

Welcome to my Jojo's OCs!

First up is my Phantom Blood OC, Alicia!

Here's a picture I made on an avatar maker!

And I did write a bio for her, which I used to make the picture.

Name: Alicia Grace Speedwagon (Was Hughes before she married)

Species: Human

Age at the start of Phantom Blood: The same age as Dio, so I think 13.

Height when she’s done growing: 5’6.5

Hair: Dark brown, curly, down to her shoulders. She usually keeps it in a bun when working, but will have it in a half-up style when out on the town.

Eyes: Ocean blue with forest green flecks throughout.

Skin: Somewhat pale, but not terribly so. Freckles over the face and down to the shoulders.

Build: Slender, but fairly strong. Nimble and capable.

Outfits: Alicia wears a maid outfit when working. When not working, she wears a victorian blouse with a green and brown plaid vest over it as well as a brown skirt with buttons down the front. She has a few other vests and skirts, one set more formal and one more casual set for when she visits Ogre Alley on charity business. When it’s cold, she wears a dark blue cloak with brown fur trim. She also typically wears shin-high boots even while working, with a warmer, fur-lined pair for winter.

Abilities: Has some medical knowledge, but not much. No Hamon abilities whatsoever, though she is curious about it, asking Jonathan all about it. Speedwagon teaches her a little bit of self-defense when she starts going to Ogre Alley.

Personality: Friendly, kind, but not naive. Sharp wit when she wants it, and a good judge of character. Independent and capable. Would do about anything for her friends and loved ones.

Occupation: Maid for the Joestar family.

Misc: Her father is William Hughes, the Joestar’s cook. She was taught by Mrs. Pendleton, going to the Pendleton house every school-day from about 6 years old to 15 years old, then Dr. Pendleton took his family to India and Mr. Joestar offered her a job as a maid and she accepted. She also starts bringing extra food and blankets from the Joestar estate to Ogre Alley every two weeks. That’s where she meets Robert Speedwagon and he begins to act as her bodyguard, slowly falling for her in the process. She falls for him too along the way.

Hope you guys like her!

Last thing is that the Maid in the Manor tag is for the fanfiction I'm going to post and the Bizarre Adventures of the Secondary Characters is the collection of all these fics. I got one for each part, so stay tuned!

Lemme know what y'all think of her! I'll be making posts of my other OCs, btw.

#fanfiction #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #Original Female Character #OC Insertion #Original Character #Maid in the Manor #Bizarre Adventures of the Secondary Characters #Alicia Hughes Speedwagon #JJBA OC #Phantom Blood #Speedwagon/OC #cus I love him and he deserves a wife #so I'm giving him one!

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rose-of-oz · 11 months ago

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Pride and prejudice OCs you say....

Tell me everything 🤩

Your wish is my command, Layne my darling!! I hereby introduce you to the Kaur siblings, Ananya and Rohan!! (And I’m also gonna tag my beloved @oneirataxia-girl since I know she’s a fan of these babies. <3)

Now, Rohan is the older sibling and the next in like for his family’s title and small fortune. His and Ananya’s father is a baron of decent means, who met their mother on a trip to India shortly after he inherited the title from his own father and married her (and would have taken her last name if he could have, but settled for allowing his children to take it instead). Their family isn’t incredibly rich or important, somewhere between the Bennets and the Bingleys in terms of money, but they have a decent-sized estate and some good business contacts that Rohan has been trained to take over since he was only ten years old.

The thing is, though, that Rohan doesn’t want to take over the estate once he gets married - he’s never had a head for business or managing relationships. He’s a bookworm through and through, fascinated with history and the pursuit of knowledge itself, and he’d much rather be holed up in the estate’s library all day with his nose in any informational text he can get his hands on than dealing with a bunch of stodgy old nobleman. And as much as his father loves him and wishes he could let him fulfill his dream of being a historian, Rohan is his only son, and his sister has no more of a head for business than he does, so unless he manages to marry a woman capable of running the estate, it’s going to be up to Rohan to keep things going.

Rohan, understandably, is incredibly upset about the whole situation, especially because he doesn’t ever really intend to marry (due to the fact that he is not interested in women at all and is, unfortunately, not allowed to marry another man). But when his parents make the decision to move their estate to Hertfordshire, wanting a bit of a quieter life as they get older, Rohan finds the perfect solution in one Elizabeth Bennet. He and Lizzie become fast friends after meeting, bonded by their love of reading and knowledge in general, and it also doesn’t take Rohan long to notice that Lizzie and his little sister seem to be taking a particular interest in one another - the same kind of interest he and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy have been taking in each other at the same time. And as luck would have it, Ananya seems to get along splendidly with Mr. Darcy as well, despite their vastly different personalities.

This whole turn of events leads Rohan to think of a (in his opinion, anyway) genius plan: he will marry Elizabeth and Ananya will marry Mr. Darcy. That way, he can leave the running of his family’s estate up to Lizzie, who has much more of a talent for running things than he does, Lizzie’s family will get a better life since Lizzie has married into nobility, and to top it all off, their little group of four will all be able to spend time with their respective lovers with little fear of having to keep a secret and absolutely no jealousy. It’s a bit of a crazy plan, he knows (and Darcy makes it very clear that he thinks so), but still a good one, and so the four of them go along with it. And so Rohan winds up married to his best friend while having nightly rendezvous with the man he loves and that his wife used to hate, while his beloved little sister does the same thing, just in reverse.

And speaking of little sister, let’s talk about Ananya!! She is a genuine ray of sunshine, almost always smiling and letting out the sweetest little giggle every time someone says something she finds funny. She is also decidedly her and Rohan’s mother’s favorite child, a fact which the woman would never admit and that Ananya would never hold over Rohan’s head, but it’s true nonetheless; for the most part, she has always been a perfect little proper lady who needed little training on matters of etiquette and manners, and her mother adores her for that.

But there is still that for the most part, and it lies in the fact that Ananya loves to get dirty in the garden. Despite the fact that her family does have a gardener on staff, she’s basically in charge of the garden both at their estate in the city and in Hertfordshire, and if anyone ever can’t find her in the house it’s a pretty safe bet that she can be found in the garden, soiling the knees of one of her day dresses with her hands shoved into the soil. It drives her mother just a little bit crazy, but she also doesn’t really do too much about it considering the floral arrangements Ananya puts together for the house always get positive comments from visitors.

Still, the countess always tells her daughter, she won’t be able to garden forever once she gets married - which Ananya doesn’t want to do, really, for very similar reasons to her older brother. When the family moves to Hertfordshire and she meets Lizzie Bennet, of course, she very much reconsiders that, and it breaks her heart every time she has to remind herself that she can never marry the person she truly loves.

Of course, Ananya then strikes up a truly unexpected friendship with Fitzwilliam Darcy - they are very much a sunshine/sunshine protector friendship - whose estate has an amazing garden, and Rohan eventually proposes his plan for he and Ananya to marry their friends and meet up with their lovers in secret. Ananya is head over heels in love with Lizzie, with her witty remarks and bright smiles that she seems to reserve specifically for Ananya, so of course she agrees to Rohan’s scheme and accepts Darcy’s proposal of marriage - especially because it will make her parents happy, and especially because Darcy agrees to give her full control over the estate’s garden and she enjoys proving her mother wrong that little bit.

Anyways, those are my two Pride & Prejudice babies!! I will make a proper intro post for them at some point, but for now feel free to ask more questions about them if you want to!!

#asks about my ocs #oc: ananya kaur #oc: rohan kaur

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